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“Disenshittify or Die”

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I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Last weekend, I traveled to Las Vegas for Defcon 32, where I had the immense privilege of giving a solo talk on Track 1, entitled "Disenshittify or die! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification":

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=54861

This was a followup to last year's talk, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification," a talk that kicked off a lot of international interest in my analysis of platform decay ("enshittification"):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rimtaSgGz_4

The Defcon organizers have earned a restful week or two, and that means that the video of my talk hasn't yet been posted to Defcon's Youtube channel, so in the meantime, I thought I'd post a lightly edited version of my speech crib. If you're headed to Burning Man, you can hear me reprise this talk at Palenque Norte (7&E); I'm kicking off their lecture series on Tuesday, Aug 27 at 1PM.

What the fuck happened to the old, good internet?

I mean, sure, our bosses were a little surveillance-happy, and they were usually up for sharing their data with the NSA, and whenever there was a tossup between user security and growth, it was always YOLO time.

But Google Search used to work. Facebook used to show you posts from people you followed. Uber used to be cheaper than a taxi and pay the driver more than a cabbie made. Amazon used to sell products, not Shein-grade self-destructing dropshipped garbage from all-consonant brands. Apple used to defend your privacy, rather than spying on you with your no-modifications-allowed Iphone.

There was a time when you searching for an album on Spotify would get you that album – not a playlist of insipid AI-generated covers with the same name and art.

Microsoft used to sell you software – sure, it was buggy – but now they just let you access apps in the cloud, so they can watch how you use those apps and strip the features you use the most out of the basic tier and turn them into an upcharge.

What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck happened?!

I’m talking about enshittification.

Here’s what enshittification looks like from the outside: First, you see a company that’s being good to its end users. Google puts the best search results at the top; Facebook shows you a feed of posts from people and groups you followl; Uber charges small dollars for a cab; Amazon subsidizes goods and returns and shipping and puts the best match for your product search at the top of the page.

That’s stage one, being good to end users. But there’s another part of this stage, call it stage 1a). That’s figuring out how to lock in those users.

There’s so many ways to lock in users.

If you’re Facebook, the users do it for you. You joined Facebook because there were people there you wanted to hang out with, and other people joined Facebook to hang out with you.

That’s the old “network effects” in action, and with network effects come “the collective action problem." Because you love your friends, but goddamn are they a pain in the ass! You all agree that FB sucks, sure, but can you all agree on when it’s time to leave?

No way.

Can you agree on where to go next?

Hell no.

You’re there because that’s where the support group for your rare disease hangs out, and your bestie is there because that’s where they talk with the people in the country they moved away from, then there’s that friend who coordinates their kid’s little league car pools on FB, and the best dungeon master you know isn’t gonna leave FB because that’s where her customers are.

So you’re stuck, because even though FB use comes at a high cost – your privacy, your dignity and your sanity – that’s still less than the switching cost you’d have to bear if you left: namely, all those friends who have taken you hostage, and whom you are holding hostage

Now, sometimes companies lock you in with money, like Amazon getting you to prepay for a year’s shipping with Prime, or to buy your Audible books on a monthly subscription, which virtually guarantees that every shopping search will start on Amazon, after all, you’ve already paid for it.

Sometimes, they lock you in with DRM, like HP selling you a printer with four ink cartridges filled with fluid that retails for more than $10,000/gallon, and using DRM to stop you from refilling any of those ink carts or using a third-party cartridge. So when one cart runs dry, you have to refill it or throw away your investment in the remaining three cartridges and the printer itself.

Sometimes, it’s a grab bag:

You can’t run your Ios apps without Apple hardware;

you can’t run your Apple music, books and movies on anything except an Ios app;

your iPhone uses parts pairing – DRM handshakes between replacement parts and the main system – so you can’t use third-party parts to fix it; and

every OEM iPhone part has a microscopic Apple logo engraved on it, so Apple can demand that the US Customs and Border Service seize any shipment of refurb Iphone parts as trademark violations.

Think Different, amirite?

Getting you locked in completes phase one of the enshittification cycle and signals the start of phase two: making things worse for you to make things better for business customers.

For example, a platform might poison its search results, like Google selling more and more of its results pages to ads that are identified with lighter and lighter tinier and tinier type.

Or Amazon selling off search results and calling it an “ad” business. They make $38b/year on this scam. The first result for your search is, on average, 29% more expensive than the best match for your search. The first row is 25% more expensive than the best match. On average, the best match for your search is likely to be found seventeen places down on the results page.

Other platforms sell off your feed, like Facebook, which started off showing you the things you asked to see, but now the quantum of content from the people you follow has dwindled to a homeopathic residue, leaving a void that Facebook fills with things that people pay to show you: boosted posts from publishers you haven’t subscribed to, and, of course, ads.

Now at this point you might be thinking ‘sure, if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.'

Bullshit!

Bull.

Shit.

The people who buy those Google ads? They pay more every year for worse ad-targeting and more ad-fraud

Those publishers paying to nonconsensually cram their content into your Facebook feed? They have to do that because FB suppresses their ability to reach the people who actually subscribed to them

The Amazon sellers with the best match for your query have to outbid everyone else just to show up on the first page of results. It costs so much to sell on Amazon that between 45-51% of every dollar an independent seller brings in has to be kicked up to Don Bezos and the Amazon crime family. Those sellers don’t have the kind of margins that let them pay 51% They have to raise prices in order to avoid losing money on every sale.

"But wait!" I hear you say!

[Come on, say it!]

"But wait! Things on Amazon aren’t more expensive that things at Target, or Walmart, or at a mom and pop store, or direct from the manufacturer.

"How can sellers be raising prices on Amazon if the price at Amazon is the same as at is everywhere else?"

[Any guesses?!]

That’s right, they charge more everywhere. They have to. Amazon binds its sellers to a policy called “most favored nation status,” which says they can’t charge more on Amazon than they charge elsewhere, including direct from their own factory store.

So every seller that wants to sell on Amazon has to raise their prices everywhere else.

Now, these sellers are Amazon’s best customers. They’re paying for the product, and they’re still getting screwed.

Paying for the product doesn’t fill your vapid boss’s shriveled heart with so much joy that he decides to stop trying to think of ways to fuck you over.

Look at Apple. Remember when Apple offered every Ios user a one-click opt out for app-based surveillance? And 96% of users clicked that box?

(The other four percent were either drunk or Facebook employees or drunk Facebook employees.)

That cost Facebook at least ten billion dollars per year in lost surveillance revenue?

I mean, you love to see it.

But did you know that at the same time Apple started spying on Ios users in the same way that Facebook had been, for surveillance data to use to target users for its competing advertising product?

Your Iphone isn’t an ad-supported gimme. You paid a thousand fucking dollars for that distraction rectangle in your pocket, and you’re still the product. What’s more, Apple has rigged Ios so that you can’t mod the OS to block its spying.

If you’re not not paying for the product, you’re the product, and if you are paying for the product, you’re still the product.

Just ask the farmers who are expected to swap parts into their own busted half-million dollar, mission-critical tractors, but can’t actually use those parts until a technician charges them $200 to drive out to the farm and type a parts pairing unlock code into their console.

John Deere’s not giving away tractors. Give John Deere a half mil for a tractor and you will be the product.

Please, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Please! Stop saying ‘if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.’

OK, OK, so that’s phase two of enshittification.

Phase one: be good to users while locking them in.

Phase two: screw the users a little to you can good to business customers while locking them in.

Phase three: screw everybody and take all the value for yourself. Leave behind the absolute bare minimum of utility so that everyone stays locked into your pile of shit.

Enshittification: a tragedy in three acts.

That’s what enshittification looks like from the outside, but what’s going on inside the company? What is the pathological mechanism? What sci-fi entropy ray converts the excellent and useful service into a pile of shit?

That mechanism is called twiddling. Twiddling is when someone alters the back end of a service to change how its business operates, changing prices, costs, search ranking, recommendation criteria and other foundational aspects of the system.

Digital platforms are a twiddler’s utopia. A grocer would need an army of teenagers with pricing guns on rollerblades to reprice everything in the building when someone arrives who’s extra hungry.

Whereas the McDonald’s Investments portfolio company Plexure advertises that it can use surveillance data to predict when an app user has just gotten paid so the seller can tack an extra couple bucks onto the price of their breakfast sandwich.

And of course, as the prophet William Gibson warned us, ‘cyberspace is everting.' With digital shelf tags, grocers can change prices whenever they feel like, like the grocers in Norway, whose e-ink shelf tags change the prices 2,000 times per day.

Every Uber driver is offered a different wage for every job. If a driver has been picky lately, the job pays more. But if the driver has been desperate enough to grab every ride the app offers, the pay goes down, and down, and down.

The law professor Veena Dubal calls this ‘algorithmic wage discrimination.' It’s a prime example of twiddling.

Every youtuber knows what it’s like to be twiddled. You work for weeks or months, spend thousands of dollars to make a video, then the algorithm decides that no one – not your own subscribers, not searchers who type in the exact name of your video – will see it.

Why? Who knows? The algorithm’s rules are not public.

Because content moderation is the last redoubt of security through obscurit: they can’t tell you what the como algorithm is downranking because then you’d cheat.

Youtube is the kind of shitty boss who docks every paycheck for all the rules you’ve broken, but won’t tell you what those rules were, lest you figure out how to break those rules next time without your boss catching you.

Twiddling can also work in some users’ favor, of course. Sometimes platforms twiddle to make things better for end users or business customers.

For example, Emily Baker-White from Forbes revealed the existence of a back-end feature that Tiktok’s management can access they call the “heating tool.”

When a manager applies the heating toll to a performer’s account, that performer’s videos are thrust into the feeds of millions of users, without regard to whether the recommendation algorithm predicts they will enjoy that video.

Why would they do this? Well, here’s an analogy from my boyhood I used to go to this traveling fair that would come to Toronto at the end of every summer, the Canadian National Exhibition. If you’ve been to a fair like the Ex, you know that you can always spot some guy lugging around a comedically huge teddy bear.

Nominally, you win that teddy bear by throwing five balls in a peach-basket, but to a first approximation, no one has ever gotten five balls to stay in that peach-basket.

That guy “won” the teddy bear when a carny on the midway singled him out and said, "fella, I like your face. Tell you what I’m gonna do: You get just one ball in the basket and I’ll give you this keychain, and if you amass two keychains, I’ll let you trade them in for one of these galactic-scale teddy-bears."

That’s how the guy got his teddy bear, which he now has to drag up and down the midway for the rest of the day.

Why the hell did that carny give away the teddy bear? Because it turns the guy into a walking billboard for the midway games. If that dopey-looking Judas Goat can get five balls into a peach basket, then so can you.

Except you can’t.

Tiktok’s heating tool is a way to give away tactical giant teddy bears. When someone in the TikTok brain trust decides they need more sports bros on the platform, they pick one bro out at random and make him king for the day, heating the shit out of his account.

That guy gets a bazillion views and he starts running around on all the sports bro forums trumpeting his success: *I am the Louis Pasteur of sports bro influencers!"

The other sports bros pile in and start retooling to make content that conforms to the idiosyncratic Tiktok format. When they fail to get giant teddy bears of their own, they assume that it’s because they’re doing Tiktok wrong, because they don’t know about the heating tool.

But then comes the day when the TikTok Star Chamber decides they need to lure in more astrologers, so they take the heat off that one lucky sports bro, and start heating up some lucky astrologer.

Giant teddy bears are all over the place: those Uber drivers who were boasting to the NYT ten years ago about earning $50/hour? The Substackers who were rolling in dough? Joe Rogan and his hundred million dollar Spotify payout? Those people are all the proud owners of giant teddy bears, and they’re a steal.

Because every dollar they get from the platform turns into five dollars worth of free labor from suckers who think they just internetting wrong.

Giant teddy bears are just one way of twiddling. Platforms can play games with every part of their business logic, in highly automated ways, that allows them to quickly and efficiently siphon value from end users to business customers and back again, hiding the pea in a shell game conducted at machine speeds, until they’ve got everyone so turned around that they take all the value for themselves.

That’s the how: How the platforms do the trick where they are good to users, then lock users in, then maltreat users to be good to business customers, then lock in those business customers, then take all the value for themselves.

So now we know what is happening, and how it is happening, all that’s left is why it’s happening.

Now, on the one hand, the why is pretty obvious. The less value that end-users and business customers capture, the more value there is left to divide up among the shareholders and the executives.

That’s why, but it doesn’t tell you why now. Companies could have done this shit at any time in the past 20 years, but they didn’t. Or at least, the successful ones didn’t. The ones that turned themselves into piles of shit got treated like piles of shit. We avoided them and they died.

Remember Myspace? Yahoo Search? Livejournal? Sure, they’re still serving some kind of AI slop or programmatic ad junk if you hit those domains, but they’re gone.

And there’s the clue: It used to be that if you enshittified your product, bad things happened to your company. Now, there are no consequences for enshittification, so everyone’s doing it.

Let’s break that down: What stops a company from enshittifying?

There are four forces that discipline tech companies. The first one is, obviously, competition.

If your customers find it easy to leave, then you have to worry about them leaving

Many factors can contribute to how hard or easy it is to depart a platform, like the network effects that Facebook has going for it. But the most important factor is whether there is anywhere to go.

Back in 2012, Facebook bought Insta for a billion dollars. That may seem like chump-change in these days of eleven-digit Big Tech acquisitions, but that was a big sum in those innocent days, and it was an especially big sum to pay for Insta. The company only had 13 employees, and a mere 25 million registered users.

But what mattered to Zuckerberg wasn’t how many users Insta had, it was where those users came from.

[Does anyone know where those Insta users came from?]

That’s right, they left Facebook and joined Insta. They were sick of FB, even though they liked the people there, they hated creepy Zuck, they hated the platform, so they left and they didn’t come back.

So Zuck spent a cool billion to recapture them, A fact he put in writing in a midnight email to CFO David Ebersman, explaining that he was paying over the odds for Insta because his users hated him, and loved Insta. So even if they quit Facebook (the platform), they would still be captured Facebook (the company).

Now, on paper, Zuck’s Instagram acquisition is illegal, but normally, that would be hard to stop, because you’d have to prove that he bought Insta with the intention of curtailing competition.

But in this case, Zuck tripped over his own dick: he put it in writing.

But Obama’s DoJ and FTC just let that one slide, following the pro-monopoly policies of Reagan, Bush I, Clinton and Bush II, and setting an example that Trump would follow, greenlighting gigamergers like the catastrophic, incestuous Warner-Discovery marriage.

Indeed, for 40 years, starting with Carter, and accelerating through Reagan, the US has encouraged monopoly formation, as an official policy, on the grounds that monopolies are “efficient.”

If everyone is using Google Search, that’s something we should celebrate. It means they’ve got the very best search and wouldn’t it be perverse to spend public funds to punish them for making the best product?

But as we all know, Google didn’t maintain search dominance by being best. They did it by paying bribes. More than 20 billion per year to Apple alone to be the default Ios search, plus billions more to Samsung, Mozilla, and anyone else making a product or service with a search-box on it, ensuring that you never stumble on a search engine that’s better than theirs.

Which, in turn, ensured that no one smart invested big in rival search engines, even if they were visibly, obviously superior. Why bother making something better if Google’s buying up all the market oxygen before it can kindle your product to life?

Facebook, Google, Microsoft, Amazon – they’re not “making things” companies, they’re “buying things” companies, taking advantage of official tolerance for anticompetitive acquisitions, predatory pricing, market distorting exclusivity deals and other acts specifically prohibited by existing antitrust law.

Their goal is to become too big to fail, because that makes them too big to jail, and that means they can be too big to care.

Which is why Google Search is a pile of shit and everything on Amazon is dropshipped garbage that instantly disintegrates in a cloud of offgassed volatile organic compounds when you open the box.

Once companies no longer fear losing your business to a competitor, it’s much easier for them to treat you badly, because what’re you gonna do?

Remember Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator in those old SNL sketches? “We don’t care. We don’t have to. We’re the phone company.”

Competition is the first force that serves to discipline companies and the enshittificatory impulses of their leadership, and we just stopped enforcing competition law.

It takes a special kind of smooth-brained asshole – that is, an establishment economist – to insist that the collapse of every industry from eyeglasses to vitamin C into a cartel of five or fewer companies has nothing to do with policies that officially encouraged monopolization.

It’s like we used to put down rat poison and we didn’t have a rat problem. Then these dickheads convinced us that rats were good for us and we stopped putting down rat poison, and now rats are gnawing our faces off and they’re all running around saying, "Who’s to say where all these rats came from? Maybe it was that we stopped putting down poison, but maybe it’s just the Time of the Rats. The Great Forces of History bearing down on this moment to multiply rats beyond all measure!"

Antitrust didn’t slip down that staircase and fall spine-first on that stiletto: they stabbed it in the back and then they pushed it.

And when they killed antitrust, they also killed regulation, the second force that disciplines companies. Regulation is possible, but only when the regulator is more powerful than the regulated entities. When a company is bigger than the government, it gets damned hard to credibly threaten to punish that company, no matter what its sins.

That’s what protected IBM for all those years when it had its boot on the throat of the American tech sector. Do you know, the DOJ fought to break up IBM in the courts from 1970-1982, and that every year, for 12 consecutive years, IBM spent more on lawyers to fight the USG than the DOJ Antitrust Division spent on all the lawyers fighting every antitrust case in the entire USA?

IBM outspent Uncle Sam for 12 years. People called it “Antitrust’s Vietnam.” All that money paid off, because by 1982, the president was Ronald Reagan, a man whose official policy was that monopolies were “efficient." So he dropped the case, and Big Blue wriggled off the hook.

It’s hard to regulate a monopolist, and it’s hard to regulate a cartel. When a sector is composed of hundreds of competing companies, they compete. They genuinely fight with one another, trying to poach each others’ customers and workers. They are at each others’ throats.

It’s hard enough for a couple hundred executives to agree on anything. But when they’re legitimately competing with one another, really obsessing about how to eat each others’ lunches, they can’t agree on anything.

The instant one of them goes to their regulator with some bullshit story, about how it’s impossible to have a decent search engine without fine-grained commercial surveillance; or how it’s impossible to have a secure and easy to use mobile device without a total veto over which software can run on it; or how it’s impossible to administer an ISP’s network unless you can slow down connections to servers whose owners aren’t paying bribes for “premium carriage"; there’s some *other company saying, “That’s bullshit”

“We’ve managed it! Here’s our server logs, our quarterly financials and our customer testimonials to prove it.”

100 companies are a rabble, they're a mob. They can’t agree on a lobbying position. They’re too busy eating each others’ lunch to agree on how to cater a meeting to discuss it.

But let those hundred companies merge to monopoly, absorb one another in an incestuous orgy, turn into five giant companies, so inbred they’ve got a corporate Habsburg jaw, and they become a cartel.

It’s easy for a cartel to agree on what bullshit they’re all going to feed their regulator, and to mobilize some of the excess billions they’ve reaped through consolidation, which freed them from “wasteful competition," sp they can capture their regulators completely.

You know, Congress used to pass federal consumer privacy laws? Not anymore.

The last time Congress managed to pass a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988: The Video Privacy Protection Act. That’s a law that bans video-store clerks from telling newspapers what VHS cassettes you take home. In other words, it regulates three things that have effectively ceased to exist.

The threat of having your video rental history out there in the public eye was not the last or most urgent threat the American public faced, and yet, Congress is deadlocked on passing a privacy law.

Tech companies’ regulatory capture involves a risible and transparent gambit, that is so stupid, it’s an insult to all the good hardworking risible transparent ruses out there.

Namely, they claim that when they violate your consumer, privacy or labor rights, It’s not a crime, because they do it with an app.

Algorithmic wage discrimination isn’t illegal wage theft: we do it with an app.

Spying on you from asshole to appetite isn’t a privacy violation: we do it with an app.

And Amazon’s scam search tool that tricks you into paying 29% more than the best match for your query? Not a ripoff. We do it with an app.

Once we killed competition – stopped putting down rat poison – we got cartels – the rats ate our faces. And the cartels captured their regulators – the rats bought out the poison factory and shut it down.

So companies aren’t constrained by competition or regulation.

But you know what? This is tech, and tech is different.IIt’s different because it’s flexible. Because our computers are Turing-complete universal von Neumann machines. That means that any enshittificatory alteration to a program can be disenshittified with another program.

Every time HP jacks up the price of ink , they invite a competitor to market a refill kit or a compatible cartridge.

When Tesla installs code that says you have to pay an extra monthly fee to use your whole battery, they invite a modder to start selling a kit to jailbreak that battery and charge it all the way up.

Lemme take you through a little example of how that works: Imagine this is a product design meeting for our company’s website, and the guy leading the meeting says “Dudes, you know how our KPI is topline ad-revenue? Well, I’ve calculated that if we make the ads just 20% more invasive and obnoxious, we’ll boost ad rev by 2%”

This is a good pitch. Hit that KPI and everyone gets a fat bonus. We can all take our families on a luxury ski vacation in Switzerland.

But here’s the thing: someone’s gonna stick their arm up – someone who doesn’t give a shit about user well-being, and that person is gonna say, “I love how you think, Elon. But has it occurred to you that if we make the ads 20% more obnoxious, then 40% of our users will go to a search engine and type 'How do I block ads?'"

I mean, what a nightmare! Because once a user does that, the revenue from that user doesn’t rise to 102%. It doesn’t stay at 100% It falls to zero, forever.

[Any guesses why?]

Because no user ever went back to the search engine and typed, 'How do I start seeing ads again?'

Once the user jailbreaks their phone or discovers third party ink, or develops a relationship with an independent Tesla mechanic who’ll unlock all the DLC in their car, that user is gone, forever.

Interoperability – that latent property bequeathed to us courtesy of Herrs Turing and Von Neumann and their infinitely flexible, universal machines – that is a serious check on enshittification.

The fact that Congress hasn’t passed a privacy law since 1988 Is countered, at least in part, by the fact that the majority of web users are now running ad-blockers, which are also tracker-blockers.

But no one’s ever installed a tracker-blocker for an app. Because reverse engineering an app puts in you jeopardy of criminal and civil prosecution under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with penalties of a 5-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

And violating its terms of service puts you in jeopardy under the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act of 1986, which is the law that Ronald Reagan signed in a panic after watching Wargames (seriously!).

Helping other users violate the terms of service can get you hit with a lawsuit for tortious interference with contract. And then there’s trademark, copyright and patent.

All that nonsense we call “IP,” but which Jay Freeman of Cydia calls “Felony Contempt of Business Model."

So if we’re still at that product planning meeting and now it’s time to talk about our app, the guy leading the meeting says, “OK, so we’ll make the ads in the app 20% more obnoxious to pull a 2% increase in topline ad rev?”

And that person who objected to making the website 20% worse? Their hand goes back up. Only this time they say “Why don’t we make the ads 100% more invasive and get a 10% increase in ad rev?"

Because it doesn't matter if a user goes to a search engine and types, “How do I block ads in an app." The answer is: you can't. So YOLO, enshittify away.

“IP” is just a euphemism for “any law that lets me reach outside my company’s walls to exert coercive control over my critics, competitors and customers,” and “app” is just a euphemism for “A web page skinned with the right IP so that protecting your privacy while you use it is a felony.”

Interop used to keep companies from enshittifying. If a company made its client suck, someone would roll out an alternative client, if they ripped a feature out and wanted to sell it back to you as a monthly subscription, someone would make a compatible plugin that restored it for a one-time fee, or for free.

To help people flee Myspace, FB gave them bots that you’d load with your login credentials. It would scrape your waiting Myspace messages and put ‘em in your FB inbox, and login to Myspace and paste your replies into your Myspace outbox. So you didn’t have to choose between the people you loved on Myspace, and Facebook, which launched with a promise never to spy on you. Remember that?!

Thanks to the metastasis of IP, all that is off the table today. Apple owes its very existence to iWork Suite, whose Pages, Numbers and Keynote are file-compatible with Microsoft’s Word, Excel and Powerpoint. But make an IOS runtime that’ll play back the files you bought from Apple’s stores on other platforms, and they’ll nuke you til you glow.

FB wouldn’t have had a hope of breaking Myspace’s grip on social media without that scrape, but scrape FB today in support of an alternative client and their lawyers will bomb you til the rubble bounces.

Google scraped every website in the world to create its search index. Try and scrape Google and they’ll have your head on a pike.

When they did it, it was progress. When you do it to them, that’s piracy. Every pirate wants to be an admiral.

Because this handful of companies has so thoroughly captured their regulators, they can wield the power of the state against you when you try to break their grip on power, even as their own flagrant violations of our rights go unpunished. Because they do them with an app.

Tech lost its fear of competitin it neutralized the threat from regulators, and then put them in harness to attack new startups that might do unto them as they did unto the companies that came before them.

But even so, there was a force that kept our bosses in check That force was us. Tech workers.

Tech workers have historically been in short supply, which gave us power, and our bosses knew it.

To get us to work crazy hours, they came up with a trick. They appealed to our love of technology, and told us that we were heroes of a digital revolution, who would “organize the world’s information and make it useful,” who would “bring the world closer together.”

They brought in expert set-dressers to turn our workplaces into whimsical campuses with free laundry, gourmet cafeterias, massages, and kombucha, and a surgeon on hand to freeze our eggs so that we could work through our fertile years.

They convinced us that we were being pampered, rather than being worked like government mules.

This trick has a name. Fobazi Ettarh, the librarian-theorist, calls it “vocational awe, and Elon Musk calls it being “extremely hardcore.”

This worked very well. Boy did we put in some long-ass hours!

But for our bosses, this trick failed badly. Because if you miss your mother’s funeral and to hit a deadline, and then your boss orders you to enshittify that product, you are gonna experience a profound moral injury, which you are absolutely gonna make your boss share.

Because what are they gonna do? Fire you? They can’t hire someone else to do your job, and you can get a job that’s even better at the shop across the street.

So workers held the line when competition, regulation and interop failed.

But eventually, supply caught up with demand. Tech laid off 260,000 of us last year, and another 100,000 in the first half of this year.

You can’t tell your bosses to go fuck themselves, because they’ll fire your ass and give your job to someone who’ll be only too happy to enshittify that product you built.

That’s why this is all happening right now. Our bosses aren’t different. They didn’t catch a mind-virus that turned them into greedy assholes who don’t care about our users’ wellbeing or the quality of our products.

As far as our bosses have always been concerned, the point of the business was to charge the most, and deliver the least, while sharing as little as possible with suppliers, workers, users and customers. They’re not running charities.

Since day one, our bosses have shown up for work and yanked as hard as they can on the big ENSHITTIFICATION lever behind their desks, only that lever didn’t move much. It was all gummed up by competition, regulation, interop and workers.

As those sources of friction melted away, the enshittification lever started moving very freely.

Which sucks, I know. But think about this for a sec: our bosses, despite being wildly imperfect vessels capable of rationalizing endless greed and cheating, nevertheless oversaw a series of actually great products and services.

Not because they used to be better people, but because they used to be subjected to discipline.

So it follows that if we want to end the enshittocene, dismantle the enshitternet, and build a new, good internet that our bosses can’t wreck, we need to make sure that these constraints are durably installed on that internet, wound around its very roots and nerves. And we have to stand guard over it so that it can’t be dismantled again.

A new, good internet is one that has the positive aspects of the old, good internet: an ethic of technological self-determination, where users of technology (and hackers, tinkerers, startups and others serving as their proxies) can reconfigure and mod the technology they use, so that it does what they need it to do, and so that it can’t be used against them.

But the new, good internet will fix the defects of the old, good internet, the part that made it hard to use for anyone who wasn’t us. And hell yeah we can do that. Tech bosses swear that it’s impossible, that you can’t have a conversation friend without sharing it with Zuck; or search the web without letting Google scrape you down to the viscera; or have a phone that works reliably without giving Apple a veto over the software you install.

They claim that it’s a nonsense to even ponder this kind of thing. It’s like making water that’s not wet. But that’s bullshit. We can have nice things. We can build for the people we love, and give them a place that’s worth of their time and attention.

To do that, we have to install constraints.

The first constraint, remember, is competition. We’re living through a epochal shift in competition policy. After 40 years with antitrust enforcement in an induced coma, a wave of antitrust vigor has swept through governments all over the world. Regulators are stepping in to ban monopolistic practices, open up walled gardens, block anticompetitive mergers, and even unwind corrupt mergers that were undertaken on false pretenses.

Normally this is the place in the speech where I’d list out all the amazing things that have happened over the past four years. The enforcement actions that blocked companies from becoming too big to care, and that scared companies away from even trying.

Like Wiz, which just noped out of the largest acquisition offer in history, turning down Google’s $23b cashout, and deciding to, you know, just be a fucking business that makes money by producing a product that people want and selling it at a competitive price.

Normally, I’d be listing out FTC rulemakings that banned noncompetes nationwid. Or the new merger guidelines the FTC and DOJ cooked up, which – among other things – establish that the agencies should be considering whether a merger will negatively impact privacy.

I had a whole section of this stuff in my notes, a real victory lap, but I deleted it all this week.

[Can anyone guess why?]

That’s right! This week, Judge Amit Mehta, ruling for the DC Circuit of these United States of America, In the docket 20-3010 a case known as United States v. Google LLC, found that “Google is a monopolist, and it has acted as one to maintain its monopoly," and ordered Google and the DOJ to propose a schedule for a remedy, like breaking the company up.

So yeah, that was pretty fucking epic.

Now, this antitrust stuff is pretty esoteric, and I won’t gatekeep you or shame you if you wanna keep a little distance on this subject. Nearly everyone is an antitrust normie, and that's OK. But if you’re a normie, you’re probably only catching little bits and pieces of the narrative, and let me tell you, the monopolists know it and they are flooding the zone.

The Wall Street Journal has published over 100 editorials condemning FTC Chair Lina Khan, saying she’s an ineffectual do-nothing, wasting public funds chasing doomed, quixotic adventures against poor, innocent businesses accomplishing nothing

[Does anyone out there know who owns the Wall Street Journal?]

That’s right, it’s Rupert Murdoch. Do you really think Rupert Murdoch pays his editorial board to write one hundred editorials about someone who’s not getting anything done?

The reality is that in the USA, in the UK, in the EU, in Australia, in Canada, in Japan, in South Korea, even in China, we are seeing more antitrust action over the past four years than over the preceding forty years.

Remember, competition law is actually pretty robust. The problem isn’t the law, It’s the enforcement priorities. Reagan put antitrust in mothballs 40 years ago, but that elegant weapon from a more civilized age is now back in the hands of people who know how to use it, and they’re swinging for the fences.

Next up: regulation.

As the seemingly inescapable power of the tech giants is revealed for the sham it always was, governments and regulators are finally gonna kill the “one weird trick” of violating the law, and saying “It doesn’t count, we did it with an app.”

Like in the EU, they’re rolling out the Digital Markets Act this year. That’s a law requiring dominant platforms to stand up APIs so that third parties can offer interoperable services.

So a co-op, a nonprofit, a hobbyist, a startup, or a local government agency wil eventuallyl be able to offer, say, a social media server that can interconnect with one of the dominant social media silos, and users who switch to that new platform will be able to continue to exchange messages with the users they follow and groups they belong to, so the switching costs will fall to damned near zero.

That’s a very cool rule, but what’s even cooler is how it’s gonna be enforced. Previous EU tech rules were “regulations” as in the GDPR – the General Data Privacy Regulation. EU regs need to be “transposed” into laws in each of the 27 EU member states, so they become national laws that get enforced by national courts.

For Big Tech, that means all previous tech regulations are enforced in Ireland, because Ireland is a tax haven, and all the tech companies fly Irish flags of convenience.

Here’s the thing: every tax haven is also a crime haven. After all, if Google can pretend it’s Irish this week, it can pretend to be Cypriot, or Maltese, or Luxembougeious next week. So Ireland has to keep these footloose criminal enterprises happy, or they’ll up sticks and go somewhere else.

This is why the GDPR is such a goddamned joke in practice. Big tech wipes its ass with the GDPR, and the only way to punish them starts with Ireland’s privacy commissioner, who barely bothers to get out of bed. This is an agency that spends most of its time watching cartoons on TV in its pajamas and eating breakfast cereal. So all of the big GDPR cases go to Ireland and they die there.

This is hardly a secret. The European Commission knows it’s going on. So with the DMA, the Commission has changed things up: The DMA is an “Act,” not a “Regulation.” Meaning it gets enforced in the EU’s federal courts, bypassing the national courts in crime-havens like Ireland.

In other words, the “we violate privacy law, but we do it with an app” gambit that worked on Ireland’s toothless privacy watchdog is now a dead letter, because EU federal judges have no reason to swallow that obvious bullshit.

Here in the US, the dam is breaking on federal consumer privacy law – at last!

Remember, our last privacy law was passed in 1988 to protect the sanctity of VHS rental history. It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden? Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google? Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics? Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms? Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

A federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems

There's a pretty big coalition for that kind of privacy law! Which is why we have seen a procession of imperfect (but steadily improving) privacy laws working their way through Congress.

If you sign up for EFF’s mailing list at eff.org we’ll send you an email when these come up, so you can call your Congressjerk or Senator and talk to them about it. Or better yet, make an appointment to drop by their offices when they’re in their districts, and explain to them that you’re not just a registered voter from their district, you’re the kind of elite tech person who goes to Defcon, and then explain the bill to them. That stuff makes a difference.

What about self-help? How are we doing on making interoperability legal again, so hackers can just fix shit without waiting for Congress or a federal agency to act?

All the action here these day is in the state Right to Repair fight. We’re getting state R2R bills, like the one that passed this year in Oregon that bans parts pairing, where DRM is used to keep a device from using a new part until it gets an authorized technician’s unlock code.

These bills are pushed by a fantastic group of organizations called the Repair Coalition, at Repair.org, and they’ll email you when one of these laws is going through your statehouse, so you can meet with your state reps and explain to the JV squad the same thing you told your federal reps.

Repair.org’s prime mover is Ifixit, who are genuine heroes of the repair revolution, and Ifixit’s founder, Kyle Wiens, is here at the con. When you see him, you can shake his hand and tell him thanks, and that’ll be even better if you tell him that you’ve signed up to get alerts at repair.org!

Now, on to the final way that we reverse enhittification and build that new, good internet: you, the tech labor force.

For years, your bosses tricked you into thinking you were founders in waiting, temporarily embarrassed entrepreneurs who were only momentarily drawing a salary.

You certainly weren’t workers. Your power came from your intrinsic virtue, not like those lazy slobs in unions who have to get their power through that kumbaya solidarity nonsense.

It was a trick. You were scammed. The power you had came from scarcity, and so when the scarcity ended, when the industry started ringing up six-figure annual layoffs, your power went away with it.

The only durable source of power for tech workers is as workers, in a union.

Think about Amazon. Warehouse workers have to piss in bottles and have the highest rate of on-the-job maimings of any competing business. Whereas Amazon coders get to show up for work with facial piercings, green mohawks, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don’t understand. They can piss whenever they want!

That’s not because Jeff Bezos or Andy Jassy loves you guys. It’s because they’re scared you’ll quit and they don’t know how to replace you.

Time for the second obligatory William Gibson quote: “The future is here, it’s just not evenly distributed.” You know who’s living in the future?. Those Amazon blue-collar workers. They are the bleeding edge.

Drivers whose eyeballs are monitored by AI cameras that do digital phrenology on their faces to figure out whether to dock their pay, warehouse workers whose bodies are ruined in just months.

As tech bosses beef up that reserve army of unemployed, skilled tech workers, then those tech workers – you all – will arrive at the same future as them.

Look, I know that you’ve spent your careers explaining in words so small your boss could understand them that you refuse to enshittify the company’s products, and I thank you for your service.

But if you want to go on fighting for the user, you need power that’s more durable than scarcity. You need a union. Wanna learn how? Check out the Tech Workers Coalition and Tech Solidarity, and get organized.

Enshittification didn’t arise because our bosses changed. They were always that guy.

They were always yankin’ on that enshittification lever in the C-suite.

What changed was the environment, everything that kept that switch from moving.

And that’s good news, in a bankshot way, because it means we can make good services out of imperfect people. As a wildly imperfect person myself, I find this heartening.

The new good internet is in our grasp: an internet that has the technological self-determination of the old, good internet, and the greased-skids simplicity of Web 2.0 that let all our normie friends get in on the fun.

Tech bosses want you to think that good UX and enshittification can’t ever be separated. That’s such a self-serving proposition you can spot it from orbit. We know it, 'cause we built the old good internet, and we’ve been fighting a rear-guard action to preserve it for the past two decades.

It’s time to stop playing defense. It's time to go on the offensive. To restore competition, regulation, interop and tech worker power so that we can create the new, good internet we’ll need to fight fascism, the climate emergency, and genocide.

To build a digital nervous system for a 21st century in which our children can thrive and prosper.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

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/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

Image: https://twitter.com/igama/status/1822347578094043435/ (cropped)

@[email protected] (cropped)

https://mamot.fr/@[email protected]/112963252835869648

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.pt

#pluralistic #defcon #defcon 32 #hackers #enshittification #speeches #transcripts #disenshittify or die #Youtube

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itadores · 9 days

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note: actor!nanami plaguing me frfr

tags: fem!reader, actor!au (you and nanami both), nanami is the most perfectest gentleman ever <3

actor!nanami who is so beloved by his audience for how respectful and polite he is. he’s not uppity like some actors of his standing, nothing like those who have let the amount of fame they’ve accumulated over-inflate their ego and level of self-importance. he treats celebrities and normal everyday people alike with the respect they deserve. nanami believes the bar must be in hell for him to be praised for having some common decency, but alas he also knows how fickle people of fame and fortune can be.

but it’s not just nanami’s well-mannered nature that has people singing his praises. no, it’s the way he treats you — his co-star. fans were excited to learn of the two of you starring in a film together and became even more ecstatic when they learned you would be playing each other’s love interests. you and nanami are both incredible actors, well-known and well-loved, but have never starred in the same film before until now. it has people buzzing to know how you two will mesh with one another on screen and wondering how the chemistry between you guys will take shape.

since the film is soon to premiere in just a short while, you and nanami do a number of various interviews to promote it. fans promptly lose their minds when the interviews finally air. not only do you and nanami complement each other very well much to their utter delight, but nanami is such a gentleman in each and every interview with you. he’s always offering a hand to you and helping you in and out of your seat at the start and end of the interviews. wordlessly passing you the water bottle by your feet when it seems like you may be getting thirsty. redirecting any potentially rude questions posed to you while chastising the interviewer in the process. it makes fans swoon watching how nice he is with you.

but what really has fans going wild is the way nanami helps with any wardrobe malfunctions you may have. if the strap of your top happens to slip down, nanami gently pulls it back onto your shoulder to its original place. if you bend over or lean forward too much and your chest becomes overly exposed, nanami is reaching a hand across to help cover you up. or if your skirt rides up, threatening to reveal your undergarments to the camera, nanami is carefully tugging the edge of your skirt down. he does all of this without missing a beat when speaking, his movements practiced as if he’s more than accustomed to doing this.

it quite literally breaks the internet. edits and compilations of you and nanami flood social media immediately, and rumors abound about whether you two are together or not. i mean, they’ve never seen nanami act so comfortable with a co-star before! he seemed to be throughly enjoying himself throughout the interviews, even cracking a smile multiple times, which is so unlike him. fans are divided on whether your guys’ closeness is just to generate more interest in the film or whether the chemistry between you two is real. regardless, many are shipping the two of you together, a mash of your names trending across all social medias.

it makes you laugh.

if you had known you’d receive this kind of reaction, you would have starred in a film with your husband sooner.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #new.mail #from.jujutsu kaisen #love.nanami kento

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onlyswan · 3 months

Text

dreamboat | jjk (1)

summary: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.

non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive / chapter wc: 14.9k / total fic wc: 30.8k

warnings/content (for full fic): is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? ; smoking ; making out ; mention of nude art ; mention of flashing ; panic attack ; a ghost cameo lol ; s*x scandal ; abuse of authority ; harrassment ; jk throws a punch once ; oc drives a motorbike without a helmet once ; vminjin + yeontan cameos :3 ; tae and jk are the same age tho

-> part two (wc: 15.9k) | spotify playlist (open to song recs <3)

note: my not so little summer project <3 i thought i wouldn’t have the opportunity to dedicate this much time to writing again in the near future so here we are! finishing this story alone felt fulfilling but even more so that i get to share it with you. pls treat it with gentle care 🫂 reblogs and feedback r very much appreciated i love talking to you guys🥺 special thanks to my lovely rio for proofreading and being the sweetest friend :") ilyily

࿐ for those who yearn <3

—

“wait! wait for me! don’t close it yet!”

jungkook’s whole life has led up to this moment.

from running away from his neighbor’s large snobby dogs during childhood— to participating in run for charity marathons mostly, only mostly, to appease his ex-girlfriend by being interested in her interests.

he successfully escaped from his uneventful class today by faking dizziness. half an hour later, he is racing towards one of the few places in this city where he feels something.

his best friend’s face is still blurry given the distance, but jungkook doesn’t need to clearly see taehyung’s face to know that he is looking at him unimpressed.

“why are you here? do you even have a ticket?!” taehyung interrogates him once he reaches the gate.

“do i have a ticket? really?” jungkook smirks, tossing his backpack to the ground.

he crosses over to the other side, and with ease, sneaks his hand in between the bars to push the lock into place.

“what do you think i work here for?”

taehyung sighs and mumbles to himself. “fine, my bad. thought we worked to pay for our bills.”

he picks up the backpack and swings it over his shoulder, heading to the control booth. on the other hand, jungkook climbs on the ship the amusement park owner lovingly named the dreamboat. he places his grip on one of the many vines curiously large butterflies are attached to, fully ignoring the existence of the steps. he hoists himself up onto the wooden floor with ease.

unhappy faces with blank stares.

he smiles at them cheerfully.

“i apologize for the hold-up. i’m your captain!”

“jungkook! sit!”

“wouldn’t he be the captain?” a high school boy at the very front quips, eyes pointing downwards at taehyung.

“eh, more like the wind behind our sails.” he ruffles the boy’s head in passing as he trudges over to his desired seat.

“what?”

his spot, a more suitable better term. the farthest row which most first timers do not dare to sit at; the part of the ship closest to the sky when it swings back and forth, higher and higher, until it feels like he’s going to fall off— but he doesn’t. for short bursts of moments, he’s flying.

the passengers are erupting in ear-splitting screams, curses, and laughter. the wide smile plastered on his face could probably be described as sadistic as he observes their reactions. most would find this ride as a nauseating, life-threatening ordeal and its name ridiculously ironic. however, to jungkook, this is what it means to be alive.

he imagined he would be alone here again today.

but as he is brought higher into the air, he discovers one person strapped to the last row of the other side of the ship.

the earth begins to move in slow motion.

they have their face buried in their palms, body shaking with what he can only guess is intense sobbing.

gone is the smile on his face.

jungkook has witnessed a few criers, sure, but not to this degree. a wave of sadness washes over him. he feels guilty and he doesn’t know why. why the hell would he be? he doesn’t even know who you are.

are you that scared? if you’re scared, why would you volunteer to go here alone? if not, then why is your heart breaking?

for a few seconds, the noises cease and his focus on you becomes amplified.

and why is his breaking too?

your sobs and gasps for air are once more drowned out by the fear and adrenaline of the majority. nevertheless, the ache they caused in his chest stays.

what could it be? the reason you’re crying like this at an amusement park? wouldn’t it be because you got stood up by your date?

lost in thought, he’s been unblinking. the wind blows as the speed of the boat picks up and he groans when dirt gets into his eye. he harshly rubs and rubs and he stops to check if it’s gone… he knows it’s gone because now he can see clearly— one of the most beautiful people he has laid his eyes upon.

the wind blows into your hair and it finally grants him a good view of your face. red, swollen eyes and mascara running. you wipe your tears away, distant eyes falling on your lap, and you take a sharp inhale. you’re a tragedy and so gorgeous still that the aching of his heart doubles due to its intensified pounding.

there’s no way… he debunks his theory. there’s no way a man could ever waste the opportunity of going on a date with you. only a fool.

slow motion comes to a full stop.

shit, shit, shit.

why can’t he look away?

you’ve made eye-contact and you’re not breaking it.

he nervously swallows the lump in his throat.

“huh?”

the ringing of the bell snaps him out of… whatever that experience was. he looks around and it is revealed to him that the ship has returned to its neutral position. passengers are already hopping off, including you.

wait, including you…

when did you get a cap?!

“fuck!” he curses, kicking his feet in annoyance.

he then proceeds to break the promise he swore to himself: never run after a girl again.

“yah, jungkook! where are you going?! you need to clock in!”

taehyung releases yet another sigh as he loses his best friend among the crowd. nearly at the same time, he hears a thud that originates from the control booth. he blankly stares at the backpack that mysteriously fell off the chair.

“does he have snacks in here at least?”

—

blue tube top and black baseball cap worn backwards. blue top and black cap. blue top and black cap. jungkook chants in his head like a maniac as he navigates the grounds, trying his best not to lose sight of your back. sweat has started to form as beads on his forehead. he squeezes one eye shut, wary of the sting, before wiping them away with the back of his hand.

he ran with all his might, but now that you’re almost within reach, he’s suddenly nervous.

“miss- miss! you dropped this!”

you turn around abruptly so his fingers end up only grazing your arm. the first thing he notices is your knitted eyebrows. he doesn’t know whether it mostly indicates annoyance or confusion.

you merely glance at the handkerchief on his open palm. “it’s not mine.”

you walk away from him and you are a magnet he is curiously drawn to.

he stands in front of you, sweaty and stuttering like a student introducing himself to a class for the very first time.

“but are you okay? i-i couldn’t help but to notice that you were cry- uh, uhm… you-you seem to have troubles.”

he clears his throat, turning his cheek for a second as to avoid melting under your intense gaze. he marvels at your beauty but he can’t pull himself together to admire it from a close distance.

“sorry, i don’t mean to pry. i’m just concerned.”

seconds pass and he doesn’t receive any sort of answer. no affirmative nod; not even a roll of the eyes. you stare at his face blankly as your feet become rooted into the ground. strands of your hair dance with gusts of the wind. it could be a haunting sight. your glossy eyes are reminiscent of deep, turbulent waters. there was a twinge of doubt on the accuracy of his words before, however, it now seems to ring true.

could it really be because of a boy?

a bicycle enters his line of vision.

a little too close not to cause an accident.

“move!” he yells out the warning, but he still takes matters into his own hands by pushing you over to the side and using his own body as a shield.

the bicycle speeds past and the rider screams something unintelligible.

jungkook’s nostrils flare. “kid, that’s not allowed in here! where did you come from?!”

the security guard running after the rule-breaker moves past him, but not before hitting his back with the baton.

“jungkook! why didn’t you stop him?!”

“yah! what was that for?!”

he scoffs, glaring towards the direction of the intruder and his co-staff, who has an entirely different job from him. why didn’t he stop him?!

while he was distracted by the commotion, he was also unaware that you managed to swipe the handkerchief loosely hanging from his grip around your arm.

his angry expression softens.

you wipe away your tears that are freely flowing against your will. earlier, you were sobbing. right now, your face is devoid of any expression. he can’t decide which is more heartbreaking.

“are you okay?” he carries on to ask again despite the both of you knowing the answer, but he just doesn’t know what else to do.

“i’m okay,” you say. “thanks for finding my handkerchief… and for saving me from the- the, yeah…”

you’re about to walk out of his life until his mouth blurts out- “wait! take this!”

he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. you blink at the small packet of sour gummies on his open palm and he wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

even he thinks this is ridiculous. he had a handkerchief in the left pocket of his jacket and now it’s yours. he had gummy worms in the right and for some reason he also wants you to have it.

“why?”

he has the same question.

“just because…”

no, that won’t do it.

“maybe it could make you feel better.”

oh my god.

“if you decide to ride the spinning top… it helps when you’re nauseated.”

still with the unreadable expression, you probe no further and accept his edible remedy.

“thank you.” you politely bow before taking your leave.

he doesn’t run after you this time. after all, his pockets are empty.

meeting you— this is probably the first and last time.

he exhales through his mouth. disappointed. he turns around and tries to look for you again.

blue top and black cap…

there you are.

leaving-

wait.

the spark of hope quickly fizzles out. you pull your hand out of your pocket, tossing something into one of the trash bins. he’s too far away to identify the item, but it couldn’t be… right?

he huffs in sheer disbelief.

“huh, she’s pretty and rude.”

—

if he’s being honest, jungkook doesn’t like this job much. graphic design is there, and it’s been a pretty sweet gig especially when he’s desperate for extra cash. anyway, taehyung got this job first, which took away time from their regular hangouts, so he would often visit his best friend during his free periods at the university. long story short, one of the managers scolded them both for playing around throughout taehyung’s shift, and as a punishment, she employed jungkook.

she is the reason why he is spending his sunday morning putting on strangers’ seatbelts and lap bars so they won’t fall off the rollercoaster and die. he was trained to double-check everything, but he is a bit more paranoid about lawsuits than the management, so despite the extra waiting time some passengers aren’t happy about, he makes that triple.

as fast as he can, while maintaining meticulousness, he does his final round of checking. so far, everyone is safely strapped to their seats. until he reaches the last row and finds the only person there with their lap bar unlocked. how did he miss that?

“ma’am, your lap bar isn’t secured. do you mind if i-”

the woman shakes her head without a word. as he gets to work, his eyes can’t help but to stray. most of her face is hidden by a face mask and sunglasses. it’s kind of funny because it’s actually been a gloomy day.

“ah, there you go. safe and sound!”

“thanks,”

he flashes her a bright smile. the last and apparently most important employee rule.

“you’re welcome!”

—

“why aren’t you eating?” taehyung asks with a mouthful of corndog.

jungkook lifts his head up from the table, sends him a glare, then drops it again. he didn’t get much sleep last night studying for their upcoming tests. he’d much rather spend his whole lunch break with his eyes closed. he’d go as far as saying that moving his jaw to chew food sounds like exerting too much energy and he couldn’t be bothered.

“change shifts with me. i fucking hate sundays.”

“depends…” taehyung pretends to be in deep thought. “will you buy me a meal everyday until our shifts rotate again?”

“do you want to die?”

“no, but it looks like you will before me.”

jungkook yawns, sleepy tears flowing down his temple. “you might be right…”

“were you up all night thinking of that girl?”

“huh? no.”

“you’re lying.”

“shut up,” he groans, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

so a beautiful stranger has been plaguing his mind. big deal! happens to the best of us.

taehyung cackles at his demise, thoroughly amused. “why? didn’t she throw away your gift?”

“it wasn’t a gift.” he argues. “and i know, she’s exactly my type.”

“bro, you’re fucking hopeless.”

“i know that too,” he calmly replies. “i kind of miss her.”

“at least it’s not your ex anymore, i guess.” taehyung mutters before obnoxiously sipping on his strawberry lemonade. “want to sneak into the security camera room? i’m curious. i want to see her.”

“can’t you just let me sleep?!”

“wow, you’re so grumpy today.”

took him long enough to deduce.

“then should we go after your nap?”

“i need to work!” jungkook snaps. he straightens his back, rubbing his face in frustration. “go- go do whatever you want!”

taehyung’s chewing slows down, appearing almost scared at his best friend’s outburst, but everything is a game with the two of them. “but i don’t know what she looks like.”

jungkook sighs, squeezing his eyes shut.

“okay, fine!”

in a state of exaggerated panic, taehyung gathers his things in one clean sweep, cradling them in his arms.

“i’m leaving!” he dashes out of the break room as if he’s running for his life.

jungkook huffs out a laugh at the comedic scene. as soon as his smile drops, so does his head.

—

it’s past midnight, which means it’s already friday. jungkook has been glued to the computer for the past three hours, working on a brochure he was commissioned to make. this task would go along smoothly if only his client didn’t have such a long list of demands, but alas, he is desperate for a good review after his past client’s four paragraph-long criticism. a boomer’s opinions hardly matter to him, but he knows how a single bad review alone can negatively affect reputation.

one thing’s for sure, everyone’s making it hard for him to fucking quit energy drinks.

he tosses the empty can into the trash bin beside his desk. away with his anti-radiation glasses, too. it lands in an awkward position over his keyboard. he couldn’t care less. everything hurts.

he keeps his eyes closed as he stretches his fingers, neck, and back with strained moans and grunts. the sweet relief causes him to slump lazily on his chair. at that moment, an internal battle starts. should he do the responsible thing and continue working? or should he just say fuck it and go to bed?

“no but seriously! why would she throw them away?!”

completely unrelated.

a thousand miles away from the topic at hand.

“jungkook!” taehyung growls from the bed, furiously pressing at the buttons of the controller. “it’s been two weeks! when are you going to move on?”

jungkook spins the chair to face him with a deadpan expression. the ps5 hogger is too focused on the television screen to even notice.

“you wouldn’t expect it but those aren’t cheap.”

“then maybe you shouldn’t have given it away to a stranger.” taehyung shrugs. “but that’s just me.”

“that was out of my control.” jungkook defends. “you should’ve seen her.”

“well, you wouldn’t let me.” taehyung mumbles, but he obviously wanted him to hear. “no thanks. crying at the amusement park? she’s got to have some real issues.”

“so what? we all got issues.”

“not me,” he sends jungkook a smirk. “if i don’t acknowledge them, they’re not there.”

“and that, my friend…” jungkook has decided to retire from his work area tonight. he pats taehyung’s shoulder as a display of faux sympathy. “is your biggest issue.”

wearing a childish grin, he grabs the other controller from the floor.

“now, shall we rank up?”

—

it’s been a few days since summer vacation started. he normally comes home to busan during the school breaks for a temporary taste of childhood bliss. he spends the entire day watching television, eating home-cooked meals, and not thinking about requirements at all.

too bad his vacation is suspended due to his adult responsibilities.

at least that’s the excuse he used.

his family has been staying with relatives for the past month because their home is currently under renovation. and well, jungkook’s dorm is suffocating enough on his own. staying under one roof with nine other people? hard. pass.

he may or may not be regretting that decision now, however. all of a sudden, coming home from work with a bag full of ramyeon and beer feels too depressing. even more so that he has no one to share them with. all of his friends have gone home. taehyung, too. he found someone who could temporarily fill in his place and did not think twice about leaving jungkook behind. he can’t blame him.

jungkook enters the apartment building. as always, quiet and dim. he gets that the owner is trying to save money, but isn’t it a bit too early to start turning off the lights? he rolls his eyes despite the lack of a witness.

they are very lucky that he has grown somewhat fond of this place.

jungkook allows himself to be roped in by the only source of warm light in the lobby. he finds himself incredibly silly for being entertained by goldfishes swimming around in an aquarium, but after a hectic day, this is where his brain cools down.

“hello everyone,” he coos at them.

do fishes even react to baby talk? he wouldn’t know. the only pet that lasted him years and is still alive is their family dog, gureum.

“how was your day? i hope it was better than mine.”

—

on the other side of the aquarium stands you, watching a boy talk to the fishes while he is blissfully unaware of your presence. an endeared smile graces your face unbeknownst to you.

eventually, there arrives a moment when most of the fishes favor a certain side and they clear out before his eyes.

that is when he finally notices you.

your heart begins to race, but he appears to be more shocked than you are. you stand up straight nearly at the same time.

despite the dark, they’re impossible to miss. his breathtaking eyes— which were filled with pure wonder and adoration only seconds ago— growing in size as soon as they saw yours.

“i know you…”

a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over your head.

“the girl who cried at the dreamboat!”

and while you do not appreciate the rather ungentlemanly pointing of finger, you’re glad to be able to breathe out a sigh of relief.

well, and there’s also the crippling shame.

you didn’t want your first impression on anyone to be the most pitiful version of yourself.

it’s been over a month for fuck’s sake. how does he remember your face so well?

“wow,” he gapes. “you changed your hair.”

you touch your hair, feeling a little conscious.

is that a good thing or a bad thing?

it’s your first time changing your hair color; plus, the last time you had bangs was in middle school. it’s been weeks since you had the big transformation, but you’re not quite sure how you feel about it yet.

“yeah, light pink…”

“it suits you well.”

“thanks,” is all you manage to respond with.

a gust of awkward silence passes by. there’s the instinct to run away— knocking at your brain, pulling at your limbs. but you can’t think of an excuse. your feet won’t move… eventually you stop minding that. the goldfishes are too beautiful to look away from. they work as the perfect distraction from the other soul standing across.

“so, um- i’ve never seen you around here.”

“i moved in today.”

“oh, i see… that makes sense.”

you hum to fill the quietness that follows, thinking of what else you could say, but he beats you to it.

“i live at the 13th floor.“

what did he say? do you live on the same floor? that’s impossible.

“how about you?”

“hm, 10!”

you blurt out the first number that pops into your mind. you quickly pretend like you’re not freaking out inside by shifting the topic.

“do they-” you gesture to the aquarium. “do they have names?”

“names?”

the random question seems to catch him off guard.

“none that i’m aware of.” he shakes his head. “i don’t think so- no.”

“oh…” your shoulders sag in disappointment. “that’s sad.”

but then again, you should’ve lowered your expectations and reminded yourself where you are. they were not bought as pets. they were bought for display.

—

the last time jungkook saw you was over a month ago. maybe your face is a tad different because you’re not crying. the new color of your hair compliments you in a way unlike before’s yet just as beautiful. the bangs make much of the difference too. he doesn’t know how old you are, but you look younger somehow. from his point-of-view, he could say that much has changed. but not the melancholia.

he watches you gaze into the aquarium in fascination; the lights reflect on your eyes as little twinkling stars. you’re not crying, but why can he still feel your sadness?

he once told taehyung that if you meet again, he’d give you hell for throwing his sour gummies away.

funny enough, that plan went out the window the second he laid his eyes on you again.

“do you want to feed them?” he offers.

“i already did.”

“you did?”

“i did,” you look up at him innocently, nodding. “i asked the guard.”

“aish, he didn’t tell me.” he throws his arms up with a groan. “i almost overfed them.”

you perk up with interest. “do you always feed them?”

“when i come home from work.”

“that’s nice…”

the soft smile you give him makes his heart skip a beat, but he doesn’t know it yet.

“sorry, um-” you begin smoothing out your clothes, also tucking your hair behind your ears. “i need to get to work. it was nice meeting you.”

“work?” he exclaims. “at this time?”

“graveyard shift,” you simply answer.

pictures of the dark alleyways immediately flash in his mind.

“but it’s dangerous to be roaming around here at this time.”

his radar doesn’t detect crimes being reported around the neighborhood, but with the majority of the building’s occupants being young adults, the streets are often littered with drunkards who have many things to be angry about.

“oh, i don’t walk. i’ve got a bike.”

he hasn’t known you long, but this is the most enthusiastic he has seen you. your face lit up as soon as you mentioned your mode of transportation.

however, he is a tiny bit confused.

it shows on his face, apparently.

“the motor kind,” you clarify.

“ah, the motor kind-” he claps once as soon as the realization dawns on him. he chuckles to himself. “of course!”

it was important for you to clarify, jungkook concludes from your tone. the fact that you own a bike is sexy, but you look adorable right now and it is so amusing to him.

“anyway, i need to go. it was nice to meet you!”

your heels click against the floor as you head towards the same door he walked in from.

“see you around!” he yells, still wearing a wide grin.

he remains standing there even though you’re already gone from sight.

hit with a useless yet concerning epiphany, he blinks.

“she rides the motorbike wearing heels?”

—

jungkook’s misery has been pushed to the back of his mind, replaced by an overwhelming giddiness that causes him to drop everything on the floor and jump on his bed. he buries his head into the pillow, but it does nothing to erase the happy grin that’s threatening to make his cheeks sore.

what a small world, huh?

what is this if not fate?

he flips over and stares at the ceiling as if it’s the starry night sky.

this might just become the best summer of his life.

—

jungkook comes out fresh from the shower clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts. he hangs the towel he was drying his hair with over his nape, heading to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. he rips the lid of the cup ramyeon halfway, and as he pours hot water into it from the electric kettle, your face appears on his mind again.

wait, there’s something wrong…

he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to figure out what it is he forgot.

“ah, i’m so stupid!”

he totally forgot to ask your name!

“shit!” he shouts in higher volume when he realizes that the water has overflowed and is now dripping to the floor.

he puts the kettle down, taking a few steps back from the mess he made. praise heavens the water wasn’t hot enough for his toes to suffer anything more than a first-degree burn.

he starts to look around for anything he can wipe the floor with, his tongue poking his inner cheek.

“still having a bad day.”

—

but a bad day isn’t enough to break down jungkook’s spirit. he knows there will always come a tomorrow, so he seizes that tomorrow and comes home from work as fast as he can. there’s a big chance that you leave for work around the same time, right?

so he sits down on the sofa facing the aquarium, and he waits.

his head turns to the elevator each time it dings.

he taps his foot on the floor.

he checks tomorrow’s weather forecast on the app. clear skies. no chance of rain. high humidity levels.

he goes through the magazines laid out on the coffee table. he learns five ways to get over heartbreak. according to the quiz, he has a sweet and passionate personality based on the flavor of his lip balm. he thinks it’s pretty accurate. strawberry, he strokes his non-existent beard. could never go wrong with it.

next thing he knows, the clock strikes twelve.

he can no longer control his excessive yawning but his stomach is just screaming for the pack of jjajangmyeon in his cupboard.

he presses the elevator button with a tight-lipped smile. he’s disappointed that he didn’t see you at all today, but he was raised to have a positive outlook in life. you live in the same building. you have to run into each other again one of these days.

—

what does jungkook hate more than normal sundays? sundays when he didn’t get enough sleep.

for some reason, he’s still tragically stuck with working on the worst day of the week despite his repeated objections. the only upside to this particular sunday is that he is assigned to the ferris wheel. in exchange for thrice the amount of his daily wage in discreet tips, what happens in some of those cabins are none of his business.

if he ends up getting reassigned, he would be pretty fucking pissed off.

he’s restless as the elevator descends to the ground floor. he’s munching on a protein bar, jogging in place as to warm up his body for a race to the bus stop.

he can’t be the one manning the bump cars. bump cars are the worst. those kids hit you on purpose, he swears.

the elevator dings and he runs.

until an eye-catching color forces him to pull the brakes. his sneakers squeak against the tiled floor.

your back may be facing him, but he can recognize you from that cotton candy hair even from a mile away. you’re right where he was hoping you’d be last night, conversing with one of the janitors. this really isn’t the best time for your paths to cross again, given the reasons he was just grouching about, but his feet refuse to move.

you go on your tiptoes to sprinkle fish feed into the aquarium. you’re so adorable in your pajamas; you’re almost drowning in the black and white checkered cloth. are those yours in the first place?

“everything you need to know is written here… how much- how often you should feed them depending on the seasons, depending on how big they’ve gotten… jungkook worked really hard in researching. impressive, don’t you think?”

“i see…” he is finally granted his wish to hear your soft voice. “but why don’t they have names?”

the janitor scratches his head at your question. “they look too alike to have names.”

“hello! i heard my name!” jungkook pops in without a warning, causing mister park to flinch and slap a hand over his chest in shock.

“jungkook! i’m 71 years old! you could’ve killed me!”

“oh, that’s right-” he gasps. “grandpa, i’m sorry!”

jungkook attacks him with a bear hug, playfully rocking their bodies back and forth hoping that would calm down his vulnerable heart. for a brief moment, he feels like a child again.

“this is jungkook.”

the introduction was already made for him. that’s one less thing he has to overthink.

“____ here wants to feed the fishes every morning from now on. i told her it’s perfectly alright with me.” the janitor laughs. “with my age, you know how forgetful i’ve become.”

“really?” he breaks away, surprised by what he just learned. “that’s so nice!”

“it’s nothing. i’m happy to do it.” you smile and make eye-contact with him, but you soon break it, opting to glance at the aquarium.

you must like fishes a lot. he only felt bad for them because the janitor on night shift doesn’t give a single fuck about them; that’s why he did all that research hoping it would help with committing to the responsibility, which jungkook ended up shouldering in the end anyway. but you… you’ve been here for what? two? three days?

“tell you what…” he brings out the pen he keeps in the side pocket of his backpack. “this- this is my phone number. if you need anything, or incase you need someone else to feed them, contact me!”

he scribbles down his phone number on the notepad grandpa was showing you before his rude interruption.

“by the way, my unit is 1311. you can also just-” he knocks on the thin air, clicking his tongue to mimic the sound. “knock on my door.”

jungkook’s watch beeps twice everyday, once at 8:50am and then at 11pm sharp. the sun is burning bright and his shift starts at 9am. yes, he is nervous infront of a girl who is drop-dead gorgeous, but he should also be very much nervous about the (unfair) deduction from his measly salary.

“okay, i need to run to work! goodbye!”

—

so, his name is jungkook…

you crane your head to watch him rush out of the building. the uncomfortable sound of his sneakers squeaking against the floor makes you grimace.

the page he wrote his number on is ripped off from the notepad and handed to you.

“he’s a good kid.”

you force yourself to smile, and it slowly fades as you tilt down your chin and stare at the string of numbers in blue ink.

long after the janitor has left to fulfill his long list of tasks, you remain standing by the aquarium.

“you do have someone taking good care of you.” you whisper to the clueless fishes, caressing the glass. a genuine smile appears when two of them swim towards you, beady eyes trying to make sense of the stranger loitering around their homey cage. “you can breathe well and you’re warm in the winter. that’s a relief.”

after feeding them, next on the agenda is to cook your own breakfast. you head for the elevator, tossing the crumpled up paper into the trash bin before pressing the arrow pointing towards north.

—

“hyung…”

“why?”

jungkook sighs. “can you text me?”

“text you what?” seokjin’s forehead creases in confusion.

“anything. i just need to make sure my phone still works.”

thursday has been a slow day at the amusement park despite the school vacation and no one has tried to win a teddy bear since the place opened. seokjin is more than happy to spend his free time playing games on his phone in his own little corner at the amusement park.

well, that was before jungkook got bored at the ping pong toss booth and decided to hang out at the other side of the wall.

he shrugs and texts his younger friend the word ‘anything’ just to get him off his back. he goes back to playing his game, not curious enough to interrogate him with additional questions.

jungkook’s text tone rings at max volume.

“it does work!” he yells in exasperation, flopping down at his seat. “why hasn’t she texted me?”

“you were whining about the same thing the other day.” seokjin muses as his car crosses the finish line. second place. “you fool, just text her first.”

“i don’t have her number.”

“what do you mean you don’t have her number?”

“i gave her mine.” jungkook says quietly. “we live in the same building and i told her to contact me if she needs anything.”

“then i guess it’s safe to say that she doesn’t need anything from you.”

“seriously, why can’t i have friends that are nice to me?!”

seokjin bursts out laughing, definitely not a stranger to jungkook and taehyung’s bickering at the break room.

“you did this one to yourself! jungkook, flirt better!”

“easier said than done,” jungkook pouts.

you make him nervous. his brain goes blank when you’re around. in addition to that, he doesn’t know what you’re going through and he’s scared that you’d end up pushing him away if he oversteps.

“i gave her candy when we first met and she threw them away.”

“oh, that’s right,” seokjin loads a new game, snorting. “taehyung told me about that.”

jungkook’s jaw drops. “is he backstabbing me?”

—

jungkook enters the break room with yet another item from the lost-and-found. it’s been over two weeks since he found this orange beanie on the ground. must’ve fallen from the rollercoaster, that’s his best guess.

since no one has claimed it— “finders keepers,” he grins as he stuffs it into his backpack.

“thief,” seokjin jokingly accuses him from the other side of the table. “that’s how you were raised?”

“says the one who took the sony headphones yesterday.”

“i won it fair and square!”

he’d argue with the older man again, but his phone vibrating has stolen his full attention. he is hit with disappointment at the same moment that he snatches it from the table. it’s his mom, again, asking him when he’s coming home.

“you need to stop doing that. it’s getting sad.”

he sighs, hugging his backpack to hide his pitiful face. “i am sad.”

—

his walks home from the bus stop have always been a period for reflection and pondering. the streets of seoul are scattered with his indecision, worries, and anger. since his mother has been asking him for months, should he just go home and endure their living situation? maybe it’s better to be annoyed with the presence of people instead of being blue with a lack thereof.

so much for being independent. he spent most of high school anticipating the day he gets to move out, now he wants nothing but to go home. he can’t help but to think that life is but a vicious cycle of wanting and losing.

too lost in thought, he fails to realize right away that he has entered his apartment building’s vicinity. it’s the smell of cigarette smoke that brings him back to reality. the alley is dark, but he can make out the silhouette of a figure crouched down on the ground. assuming that it’s one of the guards hiding to smoke, he soundlessly enters the confined space with mischief up his sleeve.

when he gets close enough, the first thing he sees is the tip of the cigarette still burning red as the smoker takes a puff.

a car with blinding headlights zooms past.

it becomes unmistakable then— the identity of the person ten feet away from him.

there’s no one around here with same hair color.

none that he knows of anyway.

he is motionless; clueless as to what he should do. he should probably turn his back and leave. pretend this never happened. he never saw anything.

he can’t even be hung up on the fact that you smoke. if he thinks back on his past experiences with dating, this would’ve been a turn-off, but he loses the ability to care. the smoke in his lungs is negligible when your wounded sobs are breaking his heart. it’s ridiculous that the urge to also cry is spreading fast in his system, but he had a long day and he feels really fucking shitty.

you were going to notice his presence eventually.

he doesn’t know what he was expecting.

you lift your head, and eye-contact is made. none of you chooses to speak a word.

you’re as beautiful as the day he first met you.

you stand on your feet and you step on the cigarette, on the emotional connection he swore you had, crushing it under the weight of your boot.

he blinks away the tears threatening to escape his eyes. he should say something; offer an apology for intruding on a vulnerable moment, but you walk past him before he could form the words, shoulder harshly bumping against him.

could have it been on purpose?

“____!” he says your name for the first time, for what sounds like a plea. he follows you home like a lost puppy. “i’m sorry, i-i wasn’t… i thought you were another person… are you okay?”

“what do you think?” you spit out. the delicate voice he knows isn’t there, gone harsh and hoarse.

“is there anything i can do?”

no response.

he tries again. “anything at all?”

“oh my god, can’t you take a hint? leave me alone!”

your sudden outburst sends him stumbling backwards, the sensation of your hands on his chest still lingering despite the distance that was forcefully created between the two of you.

“i don’t know you! stay away from me!”

your infuriated voice echoes throughout the lobby. he is shocked. dumbfounded. his eyes, out of focus, seek your face, and he finds you heaving with tearful eyes.

he makes an attempt to speak, something to defend himself with, but in the end, he still says, “i’m sorry.”

a woman walks out of the elevator, and you immediately enter without looking back. jungkook remains standing where he is, with strangers’ eyes on him as if he has committed a grave crime.

—

you slam the door shut, hand still covering your mouth shut despite no one being around to hear your cries. you don’t bother turning on the lights. your shoulder bag falls somewhere on the floor and you collapse on the bed, still in your jeans and your heels hanging off your feet.

nothing matters anymore.

you’re suffering the punishment of somebody else’s crime. you’ve been casted out, stripped away of your dreams and your dignity. your life is over and you’ve accepted that, but maybe you haven’t. all is unfair. you’re so fucking angry but you’re too tired to feel it. and you’re alone. so alone. no one is on your side and it’s not fair.

you try to scream out, anything to release your pent-up rage, but it doesn’t happen. apparently, that’s what happens when enough people tell you to bite your tongue raw.

they say we curl up into the fetal position as a natural response to stress and anxiety because it mimics the sense of security we had when we were in our mother’s womb. the way you see it, your body will always be yours and it is the only one that you need.

so you curl up and you put your arms around yourself. you pat your own back until your wrist falls limp from exhaustion, and you keep your eyes closed until you fall into a deep sleep.

you pray to god that you never wake up.

—

you fail to achieve peace even in your dreams. in what is supposedly an imaginary land, you were being chased by faceless agitators with torches and pitchforks. you were crying and screaming, running on bare and bloody feet, tripping on branches and the stones they were throwing.

you open your eyes to darkness.

just as you predicted; nobody listens.

you feel nothing anymore and you hope it stays that way. if you can’t escape it, then perhaps, you can be desensitized to its horrors.

you force yourself to sit up on the bed, spending an unknown length of time staring into the void.

the first coherent thought formed in your head… no, not a thought… a person.

your bare feet brave the cold floor. the switch of the desk lamp is flicked as you sit at your desk. you grab a pen to write something on the free space of your opened journal pages.

under those numbers, you note down the name of the owner in cursive.

—

after the shitshow that transpired earlier, sleep became impossible for jungkook.

he doesn’t quite understand how he feels about you. however, it’s currently clear that there’s a part of him that’s pissed off. you made yourself very clear. he should maintain distance from now on. that’s the sensible, respectable thing to do. at this point, attempts at initiating any form of relationship with you appear to be futile. you’re a stranger to him, as you emphasized. this shouldn’t be as complicated as it is in his head… but fuck, the memories of your tear-stained face is corrupting his ability to rationalize.

it’s 2:33am. he’s been playing the guitar infront of the camera for an hour and a half already. the comment section is flooded by sleep-deprived people like him, sending song requests and questions about his personal life.

yes, he’s about to be in third year college.

no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

no, he can’t mention where he lives… but sure, he can sing ‘beautiful’ by crush.

“what do you mean? i just finished playing it ten seconds ago!” he squints as he scrolls through the new wave of comments. “sorry, art commissions are still closed. i’m behind on my workload… no, i’m not sleepy! don’t send me to bed yet… knees by iu? i love that song. should i play that next?”

his phone vibrates with a new text message, nearly causing it to fall from the stack of books he set it up on.

“oh- what was tha- what do i do? wait, everyone. i need to check on something!”

the live is temporarily put on pause.

“who is this?”

his eyebrows knit in confusion when he is greeted by an unregistered phone number.

2:45am

hi, jungkook. this is ____. i wanted to apologize for my behavior at the lobby earlier. i understand you were only concerned. i’m so sorry. i’d love to buy you coffee some time to make it up to you, if that’s ok.

this is real, right? he’s awake. he’s not hallucinating. the text message indicates your name and it says that you’d love to buy him coffee some time.

a gasp leaves his mouth, his hand flying up to seal his lips.

you texted him. you finally texted him.

he was starting to get convinced that you also threw away his number, but you didn’t!

he weakly sets down the phone, brain still processing the message you sent. does this make sense?

“i shouldn’t reply right away… maybe in the morning…” he nods to affirm myself. “that’s right.”

he begins chuckling out of nowhere. soon enough, those chuckles become chortles. he must be going insane. he picks up the phone and reads the message again.

“she sounds pretty even in chat. how is that possible?” he spins on his chair, so carefree. “but honestly, is one coffee enough for what she did?”

he shakes his head with a click his tongue.

“i don’t think so…”

hold on…

it feels like he’s forgetting something…

“ah, the live!” he jumps on his seat in panic.

he swipes out of the text message to go back to the app where he abandoned his thousand viewers.

“sorry, i made money.” he mumbles to himself. “i should end it now.”

—

his mood has done a 180. his routine consists of feeding the fishes dinner, and then himself, but he decided to skip the second part earlier for reasons that he has forgotten by now.

his stomach growls at his selfish decision.

given the time, he considered food delivery, but the fee made him exit the app immediately. he hasn’t gone to the grocery store as of recent either. the fridge has been wasting electricity, but his pride won’t let him turn it off.

how did people live without convenience stores before? that is what jungkook marvels about as he crosses the long hallway to reach the elevator.

a door ahead opens, and he would ignore it if not for one of the two people who comes out from the other side of it.

there is a man in his late 20’s, and then there is… you.

you are the deer and jungkook is the blinding headlights.

—

the coffee you originally offered jungkook has turned into a full meal. when you arrived at the convenience store, he knew what he wanted right away. he grabbed the biggest cup of ramyeon and tteokbokki, an egg, sausage, and cheese. he refused to let you pay for them at first, but there was nothing left to do after you handed the cashier the money.

the action was done out of obligation rather than will, but seeing how much he’s enjoying the food, you’re a little less displeased with the circumstances.

“is that all you’re eating? we can share mine.”

“it’s okay. i’m not that hungry.”

with the money you had left, you were able to afford a roll of gimbap. maybe it’s not enough to make you full, but it’s enough to satiate your hunger. you slowly chew the food in your mouth, an effort to hide your smile as you discretely observe jungkook devour his rabokki.

“the man from earlier, is he your brother?”

your chewing is put on pause. “how did you know?”

“how? it’s easy!”

he cheekily points at his nose using his chopsticks.

“you have the exact same nose.”

“ugh,” you grimace. “i’m tired of hearing that.”

your list of similarities ends there. he’s the golden child and you’re the black sheep. if your parents find out that he comes to visit you and he sends you money, they’d only see you in worse light.

“i know,” jungkook scrunches his nose. “i have an older brother too.”

cute.

“so… why did you lie?”

he’s seriously asking you like this? so casually?

you awkwardly set down your food on the table and you take your time sipping at your coffee to buy yourself some time.

—

“i was embarrassed with what happened before… me crying at the boat and everything…”

you’re having a hard time looking at jungkook in the eye. sensing your discomfort, he wants to punch himself for being so careless with his tone. until moments before, he felt too offended to consider the fact that you never owed him an explanation.

“you don’t have to be. it’s okay.” he reassures you. “we all have bad days.”

it doesn’t work the way that he thought it would. when you start laughing, he is lost.

“did i say something funny?” he chuckles along nervously.

“that quote, ‘it’s just a bad day, not a bad life.’”

“yeah?”

“it’s the opposite for me. it’s not just a bad day; it’s a bad life.”

you speak with such endearing humor and it works like a charm in making the atmosphere lighter. he’d pass it off as a self-deprecating joke, but based on your few yet impactful encounters so far, he doesn’t think you’re stretching the truth far. if he’s being honest, if your first meeting happened differently, he’d assume that you’re living a perfectly comfortable life based on your appearance alone.

“even now, i’m too embarrassed to show my face to you. but we’re neighbors, so i’ll try to get over it.”

“tell you what, let’s start with a clean slate.” he eagerly makes a proposal. “you can erase all the embarrassing memories of you from my brain.”

“h-how do i do that?”

“flick my forehead!”

you blink, eyes darting around as you try to make sense of what he said. “i was expecting some sort of stupid hypnosis.”

“or that,” he switches up, slapping the table as if you just came up with something revolutionary.

why did he say flick his forehead anyway? he knows you gotta have an overwhelming amount of pent-up emotions. you could go deku on him and blow his head off.

“let’s do that!”

“no, i like it.” you almost interrupt him. “i’ll flick your forehead.”

but he did suggest it… and you act so gentle and sophisticated. he doubts that you would make it hurt.

“here i go!”

he gets his bangs out of the way. “okay!”

he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. “please have mercy.”

son of a bitch. that hurt.

“ow!” he rubs the affected area, face twisting in pain. his eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “you didn’t hold back, huh?!”

you smile at him sweetly. “did it work?”

—

“you fed them, right?”

“of course i did. you?”

“yes, this morning.”

“okay, that’s good.”

you and jungkook sit in silence after that, eyes twinkling with wonder as they follow the stunning movements of the goldfishes.

deep inside, he’s feeling restless. you make him nervous, and he’s also nervous about you noticing that he’s nervous. it’s been a tireless cycle.

he sneaks a glance at you.

perhaps he’s overthinking again. it seems like you don’t even care that he’s less than an arm’s length from you.

he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed.

he sighs without a sound, comfortably leaning all of his weight on the couch.

“it’s called the dreamboat.”

“what is?”

the boat you cried in— can’t say that. you might flick his forehead again.

“at the amusement park.”

“oh…”

it falls silent.

jungkook is thankful when you have a follow-up question because he hasn’t thought of a new topic yet.

“i wonder why they called it that.”

“oh, because the owner’s daughter loves boats!” he shares one of the few fun facts he learned over the past year. “that’s why it was designed like it came from a fairy tale too.”

a mirthful smile forms on your face “my guess was too far off.”

“what was it?”

“mhmm,” you hum, folding your arms over your chest. “dreamboat is a word used to describe a handsome man, right?”

jungkook nods his head like he knew that all along. no, he didn’t.

“so i imagined the owner met their handsome partner on a boat- no, or a ship,” the epiphany hits you in the middle of your sentence. “they have to be rich since they built an amusement park.”

a romantic. you imagined a love story based on a word alone. jungkook’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he tries to tame his wide grin.

“that does sound like a good theory.” he casually bends over, resting his elbows over his spread thighs. “i think i like it better than the truth.”

“how did you know that though? the truth?”

he shrugs. “i work there.”

“you work there?” your voice goes up a pitch. “i didn’t know…”

“you? do you study or work?”

“call center,” you answer to get it over with. to his surprise, your body language shifts and you’re now facing him. “what’s it like working there? is it fun?”

apparently, a job at the amusement park is now joining his very short list of your interests: after motorbikes, smoking, and fishes.

“it has good days and bad days…” he trails off. he hasn’t truly given this much thought, so he’s also learning about himself. “but i didn’t expect it to be as fun as it is. sometimes it’s boring, but when it’s fun, it’s really fun.”

you scoot closer. “do you get to ride for free?”

ah, yes, the deciding factor when he was offered the job.

“there’s an employee discount, actually! but i do it for free anyway…” he shyly scratches his head. “don’t tell anyone i said that.”

“i don’t have anyone to tell.”

his heart skips a beat when he hears your laugh genuinely for the first time. quiet and delicate and airy— you grace this blue summer night like a spring breeze that takes away with it everything that burdens your mind and heart.

once again, the aquarium becomes the most interesting collection of atoms in the building. as for him, he is still unable to keep his eyes off you.

“did you have a pet fish growing up? you really like them a lot.”

“no,” you reply. “i didn’t care about them until now.”

“really?” his eyes grow wide. “wow, i seriously thought you were a marine life enthusiast, or something like that.”

you give him a look. “i thought you were a marine life enthusiast.”

“we were both wrong.” he shrugs. “but what made you care about them so much now?”

“i don’t know. i just thought of something when i was looking at them.”

he feels your hesitance to continue. your eyes connect briefly and he communicates that he’s listening with an open mind.

“they’re different from other pets, you know, like cats and dogs. they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.”

in the dark room, he sees the melancholy seeping from the cracked edges of you. although you act relaxed, your spoken thoughts paint the picture of a person whose sensitivity and sympathy touch upon everything.

“there should at least be somebody who cares enough to check up on them and make sure that they’re alive and well.”

“…and you wanted to be that somebody for them.” he concludes with a hushed voice, more to himself than you.

“but it turns out they have you already.”

“it’s not just me now.”

he mirrors your soft smile. it’s nice to see your frown turned upside down for a change. what was weighing down on him has become lighter, and he hopes it’s the same for you.

“the sun is about to rise.” you announce after a peek at the grandfather clock. “we should go home.”

jungkook isn’t a big fan of comfortable silence, but he can get used to it. he maintains a respectable distance from you in the elevator, engaging himself with the ascending number of floors on the screen. when the door opens, you’re the first to step out and he follows suit.

your destination isn’t far. you pause in front of unit 1303.

“uhm, this is me.”

yup, the same door he saw you come out of.

“i’m not far, just at the end of the hall. 1311, if you ever need anything.”

your eyes trace the direction of where he’s pointing before you nod in understanding. with a hand gripping the door handle, you offer him one final smile.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

—

if others cheese over good morning texts first thing after opening their eyes, then jungkook’s case is one of a kind.

he rolls over to his side, puffy eyes from sleep forming thinner crescent moons as he zooms in on your reflection on the glass.

10:08am

[attached image]

they’re happy and fed :)

10:10am

[attached image]

babies are getting bigger

this is how his mornings have been going for the past two weeks. he wakes up and he checks his phone for fish breakfast updates from you. in return, he sends fish dinner updates to you at night. he was the first one to send you a picture following the night you awkwardly bumped into each other. he didn’t want to wait around anymore.

were his palms sweaty? did he throw his phone on the bed after?

no longer relevant.

he now knows that your favorite color is blue and you have wednesdays and fridays off for the next month. that’s pretty cool.

another thing he’s taken notice of is that you don’t use emojis or emoticons aside from the smiley face.

although, there was once a miracle.

he scrolls up until he reaches your conversation from four days ago.

11:59pm

LOL i’m actually allergic to seafood ㅜㅜ

😭😭😭

“ah, i’m annoyed!” he kicks his feet; half of the blanket falls to the floor. “she’s so cute!”

things are indeed going great, greater than he imagined, but if he has to complain, he wishes he could see you in person more. he’s at work when you’re home and vice versa, so you don’t cross paths despite living on the same apartment floor. that 3am encounter was a rare phenomenon, it turns out. he chanced upon you a few times while running to work and you were feeding the fishes breakfast, but those conversations were barely conversations.

‘i just thought of something when i was looking at them… they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.’

he hasn’t stopped thinking about that.

—

“when are you asking her out on a date?”

taehyung is on a mission to tease him for life even from daegu. he’s only thankful that his best friend isn’t video calling him from the toilet again because he’s currently having his lunch.

“i don’t know.” he grouches. “it doesn’t feel like the right time. i don’t want to scare her off.”

“when’s that ‘right time’?”

“i’ll figure it out…” he sighs, setting down the half-eaten sandwich on the table. “how do i say it…? i feel like- hm, she’s no- she’s not in the best emotional state right now.”

“so you admit it,” taehyung raises an eyebrow, smirking. “she has issues.”

that didn’t sit right with jungkook at all. he feels obligated to defend your honor.

“hey, stop being rude. you haven’t even met her yet.”

“come on, bro! i’m only looking out for you.”

the atmosphere shifts into a more serious tone.

“i don’t want you to get hurt trying to fix another person again. it was hard to watch.”

he moved on and learned his lesson— he wants to spit out as a rebuttal, but his best friend gave him much to think about. would it make sense to say that he’s moved on but he hasn’t healed?

“i know,” is what he ends up saying absentmindedly, distracted by thoughts that he isn’t keen on sharing.

and as if he’s been slapped back into reality, he fixes his posture and picks up his sandwich. “so, what’s up? have you even slept yet?”

“no,” taehyung responds nonchalantly. between the two of them, he absolutely has the more fucked up sleeping schedule. “i’ve been awake since 12am.”

“didn’t you say you’d spend the entire vacation sleeping?”

“this vacation was a trap.”

the camera darts to the abandoned mop on the floor.

“my mom makes me do all the chores everyday. this is worse than my actual job!”

a devilish grin is drawn on jungkook’s face. ah, the grass is always greener on the other side.

—

“mondays stay to be a pain in the ass.”

does it look like he’s exhausted and dirty from chasing around children all day? jungkook is stressed as he checks himself out on his front camera. he’s walking home from the bus stop after clocking out of work.

the street is mostly quiet, until a roaring engine approaches and he cringes at the raucous sound assaulting his eardrums. he’s already at the sidewalk for his safety and in accordance with the law, but he feels compelled to stay further back and wait for the vehicle to pass by.

seconds later, a black harley races past.

jungkook is dumbfounded as he tries to piece the puzzle together.

the lights are bright, and your pink hair blowing with the wind is even brighter.

“w-was that…?”

—

he was going to bring it up over text last night, but he decided to reserve it for physical conversation because he wants to see your face light up again.

you’re so fucking cool.

he’s both amazed and envious.

also, he’s pretty damn sure that you’re rich. he doesn’t understand why you’re living in this place and enduring the graveyard shift at the call center.

a foolish smile is permanently plastered on his face as he sketches a commissioned digital portrait. he really should focus, or else he might end up drawing you instead of his client.

he spins on his chair, pushing the wheels towards the bed, where he comfortably extends his feet over. almost missed it. the power has been out for an hour and he doesn’t expect it to come back until dawn. he was pissed about this being a normal occurrence during the first year of his stay here, but he’s gotten quite used to it. invested in a powerbank that almost looks like it can charge a car’s battery and he’s all set.

the aggressive pounding at the door drowns out the pop ballad he’s listening to.

“what? who could it be at this hour?”

he pauses the song, turning up the brightness of his ipad to use it as a makeshift flashlight.

the last person he expected to appear at his door says the last thing he expected them to say.

“jungkook, i think there’s a ghost in my apartment.”

—

jungkook sets down a hot cup of tea infront of you. in his mind, he thanks himself for keeping everything his mom sends him, even the things he do not like.

“thanks,” you mumble, picking it up by the handle.

he patiently sits on the other side of the table for two, giving you the time to calm yourself down from the horror that you witnessed. he has his emergency light propped up on the kitchen counter. he was saving it for when he finds himself in a grave situation, like a total blackout or an apocalypse. he didn’t imagine he’d end up using it for an unusual night like this.

“are you feeling better?” he asks worriedly.

you nod. “yeah, i just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“i’m here. you can stay until whenever you want.”

“thank you.”

you sigh with your eyes closed. you look like life has been drained out of you.

“i’m really scared, jungkook.”

“are you sure about what you saw? i mean, it’s dark. your mind could’ve been playing tricks on you.”

“i saw him. i really him saw him!” you frantically defend yourself. “i was washing my hands then i turned around and i saw him, sitting at the edge of my bed! he looked at me!”

his heart drops to his stomach when your chin begins to wobble and he sees your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“and his skin was burnt off, jungkook.” you enunciate the words to emphasize the severity of what you experienced. “it’s so horrifying, i had to run.”

“hey hey hey- it’s okay. i believe you.” he squeezes your cold, trembling hands. “you’re safe now. it’s only us here. no spirits- i promise.”

he’s losing his mind a little bit. he’s holding the hands of the girl he likes and her pinky is wrapped around his. you’ve been putting him through a rollercoaster that, for once, he is terrified of. he wants to bask in this moment… but the specific detail you revealed is bothering him.

“and you said… he was burnt?”

“yeah, why?”

he presses his lips in a thin line, shaking his head. “no, it’s nothing.”

“there’s something.” you stop crying. “i see it on your face.”

“i swear, it's nothing!”

“you’re lying!” you accuse him. “what is it?”

“forget it, ____.”

“jungkook,” you say his name sternly. “tell me.”

shit, he’s done for. you can’t do this to him when he’s trying to protect you.

he swallows nervously. “but i don’t want to scare you.”

“i saw a ghost. what else can scare me?”

“the truth is…” he pauses, still weighed down by hesitance. but he realizes he has reached the point of no return. also, you’re squeezing his hands a little too tight. “this building had to be restored. it burned down a decade ago. people suspect there was foul play, but the firemen said it was faulty wiring.”

he’s the one telling the story, but he also feels chills run down his spine.

“oh… so you’re saying…”

“i… believe so?” he winces with a mix of guilt and fear. “but it’s the first time i’m hearing of a ghost story here. i haven’t had any encounter either.”

“i need to move.” you declare, not an ounce of humor in your voice.

“don’t!” he protests.

perhaps a little too passionately. could he be any more obvious?

“what do you mean? you need to leave too!”

“i can’t,” he fakes a pained expression. “who’s going to take care of the fishes?”

that works like a charm.

you untangle your hands and lean against the chair, transforming into a pensive state.

if he wasn’t going to convince you to stay, the fishes would.

“fuck,” you curse in a low whisper, sipping on your tea.

—

“i’m not the spoiled brat you think i am.” you frown, dangling your feet from the bed. “i sleep on the floor too.”

“i’d be rude if i let you do that.” jungkook insists as he fluffs his pillow. “i’m comfortable right here. i’m used to it.”

he was relieved that you weren’t stubborn enough to go back to your place and force yourself to sleep there. after seeing how terrified you were, it would’ve been impossible for him to close his eyes and shut down his brain from worrying. he hasn’t seen a ghost, but they have to be real. he likes to believe that we do not cease to exist and we have some place to go when we die. however, that does co-exist with being alarmed by a ghost of a burnt body sitting on your bed. he isn’t going to let you go back in there tonight. no way.

“you should get some rest. just tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“thank you, jungkook.”

“it’s no problem!”

his name sounds so sweet when it comes from your lips. he can’t help but to feel giddy every time he hears it.

you lie down on the bed, facing the portable fan strategically set up on jungkook’s gaming chair. on the other hand, the emergency light is at the nightstand, acting as a night lamp.

he checks the time on his ipad: 1:48am. his battery percentage: 55%. he’s not yet sleepy, so he decides to continue working until he gets the low battery warning for 20%.

sitting down without back support becomes too uncomfortable after a while, especially when drawing. he doesn’t realize it when he changes positions, too focused on drawing the intricate floral patterns on the client’s blouse.

“is that your girlfriend?”

jungkook turns his head towards the voice and your face is only inches away from his. the word stops for a moment.

“is she okay with me sleeping here?”

he scoots a little further away to grant his racing heart some mercy. “u-uhmm, no.”

“no…?” you repeat slowly, sounding concerned.

“no, as in she’s not my girlfriend!” he further elaborates in distress. “i don’t have a girlfriend.”

“okay, cool. you scared me.” you huff out a chuckle. “i don’t like being the girl who causes problems.”

“no, you’re safe.” he manages to also laugh. “no one’s coming to pull your hair.”

“then who is she?” you point at the screen with your pouted lips, particularly the reference photo that’s been burnt to his memory.

“a client. people pay me to draw them.”

“oh, so she’s one of your french girls?” you crack a humorous remark.

the reference catches him off guard, even though he should’ve totally seen it coming.

he squints. “mhmmm, i guess? kind of like that… except they’re not, you know, naked.”

“i see,” you hum in interest. “you don’t like doing nude drawings?”

“honestly? i don’t know. i’ve never done it before.”

“no one’s asked you?”

he shakes his head. “no one,”

“would you do mine if i ask you to?”

he secretly pinches his thigh to prove that he’s not dreaming.

what the fuck?

did he hear you right?

it sounded like such a genuine and casual question in the name of art, but the worst thing he could do while his crush is sleeping over is to imagine her naked. he feels the warmth spread across his cheeks, possibly reaching his ears.

“hey, breathe!” you giggle with a push of his shoulder. “you don’t have to answer that. sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“sorry, i was just surprised.”

he forces himself to laugh and act like the question isn’t putting him through a crisis in so many levels.

“i’ll let you finish your work.” you smile at him, pulling up the blanket.

please do and stop shaking up my heart.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight, ____.”

—

jungkook is still flustered by the conversation. since you opened up the topic, he did give it some serious thought. he thinks he wouldn’t mind if someone asked him to do it. he makes all of his negotiations and transactions online so everyone so far have been a stranger. as for the people he personally know, unless it’s his significant other, wouldn’t it be awkward?

anyway, the chances of it happening are low. stressing over it is pointless.

he needs to finish this commission and move on to the next, or else he’d be encumbered by the pile of deadlines. he’s making the most out of this vacation so he can save more money and work won’t have to interfere so often with his studies.

sometimes he doesn’t understand why he works so hard either. his family isn’t struggling financially. in fact, he’s studying to take over their businesses. his parents have been nothing but kind and supportive, but he is never compelled to ask them for money. he feels this strong and all-consuming need to prove himself as capable and independent. nothing compares to the gratification of buying his wants and needs with the money he sacrificed his blood, sweat, and tears for. he can’t stop himself.

“i can’t sleep…” a quiet murmur reaches his ears. “may i watch you draw?”

oh, he thought you’ve fallen asleep twenty minutes ago.

“of course,”

he is more than happy to move closer to give you a good view of his progress.

if there’s one thing he isn’t ashamed to boast about— it’s this.

it’s silent except for your breathing and the taps of his pen on the screen. he’s a tad self-conscious with the presence of engrossed eyes, but he would describe the atmosphere as peaceful.

“you’re such a great artist.” you whisper in awe.

jungkook can’t recall the last time he felt this simple yet profound type of joy.

—

true to your words, you did move as morning came.

jungkook wakes up to an empty bed and a commotion outside.

“____?”

he knocks on the bathroom door, not expecting it to swing open from the action. he takes his chances and peeks inside with another call of your name, but you’re still nowhere to be seen.

did you really leave without saying goodbye?

he sighs in disappointment. he was planning on buying you breakfast, too. he knew it. he should’ve made the invitation last night.

a series of loud thumps prompts him to scratch his head in irritation. he’s tired and sleep-deprived and he didn’t see his crush’s face first thing in the morning. the day has barely started and it’s already a bad one.

he opens the door with a considerable force, mouth running before his eyes could perceive his surroundings.

“could you guys turn it down? people are still slee-”

“jungkook! you’re awake.”

you jog over to him with a more cheery expression than last night’s. there’s no windows but the sun is shining over his face.

“sorry about the noise. i’m moving to a new unit.”

he can see that, but his brain remains in a muddled state. how did you make the arrangements overnight? he gapes at the men hauling your things to your new apartment.

“1309?” he exclaims.

“yeah,” you shyly reply. “it’s the only vacant one left.”

almost but not quite. does he have the right to complain? you’d be one door away.

he’s fucking ecstatic.

if he just sets aside the fact that it took a ghastly ghost encounter for the stars to align.

the wrinkles on his forehead disappear and become crinkles by his eyes, accompanied by an excited beam.

“should we feed them together then grab breakfast after?”

—

time passes by too fast for jungkook’s liking. summer vacation ended a month ago and he’s back to busting his ass off at the university. he misses the days and nights when the only thing he was going insane about is you.

what’s taking you so long to reply? did he say something stupid? does he look nice? smell nice? are you crying again? that ghost isn’t bothering you again, is he?

now that he needs to focus on something less interesting, say studying taxation and business law for subsequent long quizzes tomorrow, he’s back to crushing cans of energy drinks.

fuck, he misses you.

your purple hair tie is still wrapped around the knob of his bathroom sink faucet and he keeps forgetting to give it back to you. you make him nervous but he forgets he ever felt that way after five minutes with you. he craves to be connected with you on a more intimate level. he wants to be more than just a neighbor you make small talk with, over text. he wants to be more than a friend you sometimes eat with, on your days off. but he likes you so much that he can be content with the way things are, so long as it means you won’t go further away.

he’s absolutely pumped to hear his friends berate him for being stupid enough to enjoy the bare minimum from a woman.

an email notification interrupts his intense cramming session with his ipad and his illegally downloaded ebooks.

No Name

Subject: IMPORTANT! READ ME!

snack break at the aquarium?

he already has a strong inkling on who the sender could be; he clicks the email address and unsurprisingly, it says that it’s you.

did you seriously go out of your way to email him because he told you that he was going to keep his phone turned off while studying?

ridiculous.

so cute and ridiculous.

—

“i brought your favorite.” you meekly present your gift to jungkook. “uh, actually i’m not sure if it’s your favorite. but it’s become mine since you gave it to me.”

jungkook gapes at the bag of his favorite gummies sitting on his lap. just for comparison, the packet he gave you that day you first met came from his pocket. this one is almost as wide as his thighs slightly spread apart.

but most importantly, what did you just say?

“y-you didn’t throw it away?”

“what are you saying?” you pout, a little hurt by the question. “why would i throw it away?”

“you should’ve. you can’t just accept food from strangers!”

he was being pretty before. he humbly admits that. he just wanted an excuse to bring you up so he whined about it for weeks, but he was never genuinely upset. not specifically about that, anyway.

“why are you so upset?” you match the rise of his voice. “i’m fine and we ended up being friends. now say ‘thank you’ and open it!”

“ah, sure-” he panics, fumbling with the zigzag edges of the packaging. you were kind of hot for that. “thank you! this was seriously so thoughtful of you.”

you nod in satisfaction, stealing a gummy worm the second that the plastic is torn open. “you’re welcome!”

—

“i should stop eating.” jungkook mumbles to himself, chewing the other half of his nth gummy worm of the night.

“yeah,” you agree, pulling your hand away from the bag with an impressive show of restraint. “we should.”

the two of you probably look bizarre in the eyes of strangers, particularly those who have seen you one too many nights admire the golden creatures like you’re being hypnotized and nothing else in the world matters. jungkook never knows what’s running in your head, but to him, these moments are all about being beside you. the loud beating of his heart could be attributed to the caffeine, or the bare skin of your knees touching and no one daring to move.

“the tank feels…” there is a delay as you search for the appropriate word. “dull. can’t there be more variety of plants?”

“i tried,” he laughs at the funny memory you evoked. “when i came back the next day, two of them already ate everything.”

you gasp. “everything? is that normal?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but you unknowingly interrupt him with a raise of your hand.

“okay, i’m searching on naver.”

jungkook behaves for the fifteen minutes that follow, sneaking a peek at your phone screen every now and then with squinted eyes. you read fast, and your knees shake when you have to think hard. they’re small things. they don’t matter that much. but they’re still parts of your entirety which he is to be well-aquainted with.

“according to this person, we can try giving them marimo moss balls to play with… and hmmm-” you hum, lips puckering into a pout. “then for plants, anubias and java ferns?”

“i still know the address of the place i bought the plants from before. we can go when you’re free.” he offers, jumping on the opportunity to spend time with you outside of this building.

“you free sunday?”

“is the afternoon alright? i have to go to uni in the morning.”

please say yes.

“sure, that works.”

he breaks into a triumphant smile.

yes!

—

jungkook has been looking forward to this day all week. he breezed through work and college, motivated to finish all his tasks so he could enjoy his time with you without any worries. he knows it’s not a date, but anyone can be excited to meet up with a friend.

“you look pretty.” he smiles, breaking the silence in the elevator.

“you can barely see my face.”

“i see it!”

your nonchalance slowly fades, seemingly replaced by unease, which confuses jungkook. you put on a white face mask from the pocket of your hoodie before facing him.

“now you don’t!” you banter with him playfully.

“too late,” he sticks his tongue out. “i can draw it from memory.”

this is your usual day outfit, a basic classic. a hoodie paired with shorts and sneakers. the face mask is part of it too. in a crowd, you could be anyone, even him, if only your hair doesn’t stand out among the neutrals. he likes it. he likes how you match outfits without trying to. you get more dressed up at night, which makes sense since you go to work.

“so you can draw me even if i flash you just once?”

scandalized, he almost chokes on his own spit. “____!”

“i’m joking!” you giggle.

“no, please do it.” he encourages you in jest.

that earns him a slap on the face. he touches the affected area. it didn’t hurt at all, you did it with a light hand, but he gapes at you dumbstruck.

“you can joke about it but i can’t?!”

you only laugh at his reaction. he also imagines that he looks funny. not long after, the elevator opens and you drag him out by his hand.

—

the cashier pushes back your extended hand. “sorry, we don’t accept card payments.”

while you pout sadly at the rejection, jungkook rushes to grab the wallet that you made him hide because this was your ‘idea.’

“here,” he puts down the paper bills on the counter.

“i’ll pay you back.”

“no, it’s fine. my treat for the fishes since they’d probably eat them anyway.” he jokes to comfort you.

“yeah, okay,” you respond listlessly. “then i’ll buy our dinner. samgyupsal?”

“call!”

jungkook guesses you have come to know him well too.

“okay, let’s go.”

he invites you to leave after the cashier gives him the paper bag. as you walk out together, your shoulders brush, and for a brief moment, he assumes that you would cling to him. he doesn’t know why he keeps doing that. you never do. he continues walking and he doesn’t even notice that he has left you behind.

the door is half-open and he’s stood in place, eyes scanning the store like he just lost a child at the mall.

of course, he finds you hunched over infront of an aquarium inhabited by a betta fish.

“do you want to get it?” he whispers, mindful of scaring away the little creature. “i don’t think i’ve seen a purple fish before.”

not even in art or television. it’s strange.

he feels your eyes glued to him. persuaded by curiosity, he turns his cheek.

his breathing stops when he sees your face so close.

he doesn’t know you removed your mask. you’re staring at him so intensely with those beautiful eyes, sparkling with the reflections of light. you’re dazzling, and intimidating, and it’s doing dangerous things to his heart.

a little nudge and he’d give you an eskimo kiss.

if there’s a perfect romantic moment to kiss your lips, he’d say it’s right now.

“it’s not the fish i want.”

he doesn’t hear you.

do you see how entranced he is by your lips?

“the shipwreck, it’s beautiful.”

his eyes chase the sight of them when you return your gaze to the aquarium.

“like you,” the words slip out without thought.

—

a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips. you blink away the tears and you stomach the heavy in your chest. you know jungkook is still staring at you with those bedroom eyes and there was no deep thought behind his compliment. will he still find you beautiful when he sees who you are beyond the surface?

“like me…”

—

after dinner, you and jungkook planted the plants and installed the shipwreck you wanted. it was not cheap, but it was worth it, if it meant seeing your priceless joy. he carries around more cash than necessary when he goes out with you. he’s praying that you didn’t see his sigh of relief when the waiter said the restaurant accepts card. he doesn’t know much about your circumstances, why you stopped going to school and why you opted to work instead, but he knows you lead a lifestyle different from his. he’s not ignorant. he estimates your bag is five times more expensive than his ipad. but with how you’re soundly sleeping on his shoulder, he can say that it’s justified.

he learns that you’ve been working straight for fifteen days, with 10-20 hours of overtime per week. you practically live there. he can feel the weight of your shoulders on him, which is why he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up despite his bladder’s need of the bathroom. this is probably the closest he will ever be to you. he can’t be the one to walk away in this memory.

the humming noise of the aquarium’s filter fills the silence.

it always feels like he’s dreaming when he’s with you.

“after all that money we spent, we should really name them now.”

you release the yawn you were holding back while speaking, head dropping on his shoulder. jungkook stiffens at the suddenness of the physical contact, but then relaxes thanks to the tranquilizing scent of your shampoo— it has to be coconut, with some sort of flowers that perfectly compliment it.

“have any ideas?”

“yes,” he hears the smile in your voice. “you know those two who have similar hues?”

he hums, body vibrating underneath your soft cheek.

“tangerine, and then clementine for the smaller one.”

“those are cute names.”

“you like them?”

“yes, they really sound like siblings!”

“okay, i won.” you shrug your shoulders as far as they can go, as if you’re so pleased you could burst. “that’s settled. your turn!”

“hmmm…”

he unconsciously bounces his knee as he racks his brain, which you swat with a disapproving noise, mumbling “making me dizzy!”

“sorry,” he winces.

your giggles are infectious, bringing tickles somewhere deep inside of him, butterflies in his stomach coming alive like spring only arrived.

“shouldn’t we at least have one named after a flower?” he suggests. “hold on, i’ll search for good ones.”

“let’s give the flower name to the yellow one. she stands out, like a flower.”

you blink wearily, a soft smile amidst the haze, sent to the yellow fish who swam closer as if it heard itself being called.

he reads the list of yellow flower names out loud.

“sunflower, daisy, azalea… for-forthysia? lily, cosmos, dahlia-”

“dahlia-” you quietly repeat the name in awe, clinging to his arm to steal his attention.

“dahlia it is!”

“i wish dahlia would live forever.” you sigh, haunted by the inevitable.

“dahlia will outlive us.” he chuckles.

“i’ll protect her from the afterlife.”

he squeezes your hand tenderly. “i’ll be right there with you.”

and with unspoken mutual understanding, your fingers intertwine. neither one of you wants to let go, he feels it strongly and he is sure of it. his cheeks may very well begin to ache with how elated he is.

“that’s three… you know, i saw someone on youtube who named their fish coral. i thought it was a very pretty name. how about that?”

“i like it,” you chirp. “i kind of wish it was my name.”

“should i just give it to you?”

you lift your head a little, sleepy eyes connecting with his. “do you know someone who has the same name as me?”

“no,” he slowly shakes his head. “you’re the only one.”

“let’s give it to the one with the longest tail.”

your head drops on his shoulder, as if it’s where it belongs.

“i like being the only one.”

you fell asleep seconds after that.

he found entertainment in watching as much as the goldfishes playing around with the shipwreck. it’s a wooden ship split in two, with cracks and holes big enough for them to swim in and out of. even the sails have holes. the drawings on them are unrecognizable beyond his imagination.

it’s quite charming, but he doesn’t understand what’s special about it the way you do.

a teardrop drips from the tip of your nose and crashes on his arm, but he doesn’t feel it.

eventually, it dries, and is erased from history.

#jungkook au #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts reaction

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moonbaby26 · 6 months

Text

Their Favorite Parts

*crossposted to AO3 here*

Prompt: One Piece men and the parts of your body that they fixate on most.

Reader Type: GN!Reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Kuzan/Aokiji, Crocodile, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, Law

Warnings: language, references to sex, penetration, oral, and foreplay

———————————

Doflamingo/Holes

He actually can be gentle with you. But you’ve found that level of care is always only a precursor to something else that he wants. And in the end, he can’t ever let you back to sleep until he’s been inside at least one of your holes and fully spent himself within it.

Whether this wretched man is pounding between your thighs, or probing you with those long fingers, or dampening you with that equally obscene tongue…he wants to be as deep inside of you as he can possibly be.

He loves you most when you’re trembling, thighs spread beneath him. Or on your knees looking up as your eyes water with your mouth full of his length. He’ll tell you what a good pet you are even as you plead or choke.

But it’s as if you were made perfectly for him. He’ll never feel this with another lover. You’re his favorite until he destroys it all. And even then, he may just pull you from the ash to start with you again. Because he would sincerely miss you in his next empire.

Kuzan/Aokiji/Chest

He loves to sleep with his head on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat then and know that you’re still really there. That this isn’t all some terrible illusion, as much as he still feels he doesn’t deserve you and can’t keep you.

His life has been too complicated. All the way from a respected, yet conflicted marine to whatever the hell people are calling him these days. But you never seem to judge him. You still believe in him, even now. He doesn’t understand your loyalty, but he loves you for it.

And when the two of you are awake and intimate, he’ll be behind you, hands holding your warm chest as his fingers massage it. The way you lean back into him as your chill bumps form is so trusting. You know that he could freeze your heart in an instant if he chose to. But of course he never would. He wants this to last forever. He needs you at his side.

Sir Crocodile/Hips

He is certain you do it on purpose by now. The way your ever tight clothing forms around your body. It feels like a specific challenge you’ve made against him. As if you are daring his eyes not to follow you across the room as your hips sway while you walk.

You’re his favorite assassin already. Though perhaps he can take some blame for letting this favoritism start to go to your head. And yet, even when he plans to punish you, he finds himself enjoying it too much. It’s hard to keep you humble when he’s still moaning your name as he fucks you over the top of his desk.

With his one hand he grabs into that fleshy hip, riding you to his release as his hook stays warningly against the side of your face. But while you smirk against that curved metal as he finally cums, he knows you haven’t learned your lesson at all. Yet he also realizes that there are still years of this game to come. You’re too efficient to get rid of you anytime soon.

Smoker/Lips

It was the first thing he ever noticed about you. Just how pouty your lips could look, even as you argued and bitched at him on the battlefield. You cursed him through those lips, always lamenting that he made your shared marine ship smell like an ashtray.

And by the time he’d found his way into your bunk one night, those same lips were about the only thing he would put his cigars down for. He’d wanted to kiss you for so long. By the time you finally let him, he never wanted to lose that high again.

It could be soft, it could be rough. Just like you and your ever changing moods. You acted like you hated him until your mouth was over his. Then you were thrusting against him soon enough and whimpering even as you both knew you couldn’t wake the rest of the ship.

He always started and ended sex with you with those damned lips. And every time he knew curses would be flying from them again tomorrow, even if his name would also be moaning out through them just as passionately each night.

Buggy/Butt

His life was a circus. And not just in the literal way he would have preferred. Somehow every move he made garnered new success, but equal terror. He never knew what tomorrow would bring. As Cross Guild’s infamy grew, so did his reputation along with it.

But his nerves were shot, and you could tell. When the others bullied him, you never added to it. He hadn’t a clue why you’d chosen him. But he wouldn’t take it for granted either as you’d come to sit in his lap, late at night in his room. You’d call him your captain, your emperor even, grinding that perfect ass into him as you tried to cheer him up.

And it always worked. As he’d a bit too desperately slide your pants from you, you always humored him. Letting his hands massage and hold that enticing rear. If he wanted to spank you, you let him do that too. It was just so soft and…comforting? He might not admit it, but you were his only remaining stability in this place. If he lost you, that would have been his breaking point. But he trusted you too when you promised that you were in it for the long haul. He was already your pirate king.

Mihawk/Eyes

It was the way you’d looked at him that first time the two of you had ever crossed paths. You weren’t afraid of his history, even as you’d seen him kill a lesser swordsman right in front of you.

By the time he got to know you better, he’d realized just how much he liked to gaze into those eyes. It was as if he could feel what you were thinking. And as your confidence grew, that ‘come hither’ look of yours became far more prominent as well.

Just with a glance, he knew exactly when you were craving to have those physical needs sated. And he certainly respected that need, finding it rather quickly a mutual one as he’d often carry you to his bed.

And even then as his hips would be pumping skillfully against your own, you’d be looking up at him in a haze of pleasure with those same beautiful eyes. A view for him alone, one he would cherish and protect forever more.

Shanks/Legs

It might have been a bit too crass on his part, that afternoon in the bar when he’d first noticed you from across the room. But his ship wouldn’t be in port for long. There wasn’t time to play this subtle. No, not at all as he’d whistled loudly, catcalling you while his crew had laughed.

He’d gotten the full view as well when those same lovely legs had carried you right back up to the bar to tell him to go fuck himself. And the way he’d smiled at you just pissed you off even further of course.

Your anger made you stay. And it was definitely a talent of his to inspire that, but he was persistent too. Soon enough you’d let him buy you a drink, and then a few more. By the time the two of you had been stumbling out of the bar, you were letting him know your room number at the nearby inn. You wanted to know if he was just all talk. He assured you that he was not.

And that night as he did get the privilege of those legs being wrapped around him as your bed creaked and shook in a marathon of lovemaking, he realized his crew probably could find more room on the ship. You had no ties to this town either.

By morning he was more than pleased when you agreed to board. Beck had protested a little, just at the sudden impracticality of yet another mouth to feed. But Shanks knew you would fit in fine, all of you and those legs laying in his bunk warm beside him for years to come on your way through the New World.

Law/Hands

With an epithet like the Surgeon of Death, he of course knew better than most on the importance of dexterity and skill with the hands. Without his own, he felt that he would have been useless.

But this appreciation for such talent had quickly extended to you once he’d finally given in. He’d ignored you for as long as he could, too logical in his understanding of how reckless it’d be to pursue a member of his own crew. But so many days and nights alone under the ocean’s surface had finally worn him down.

The night on the Polar Tang when those skillful fingers of yours had finally been in his hair, and finally unbuttoning his pants soon after was one that had been so long coming. You’d gotten to see that other side of him then as he unraveled almost shamefully beneath your stroking and assurances.

He’d taken care of everyone else for so long you told him, playing the part of their stoic leader. But you knew he was far from only that as your hands drew out all his pent up need.

You promised him that he was safe with you. That you were with him until the end. And it was all true. The captain of the Heart Pirates would remain within your capable hands for as long as he desired to. And that desire would prove to be unbreakable.

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beybuniki · 2 months

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hiiii first off i love ur art so much i always look forward to seeing it on my tl or on here!!!! secondly i think ur dabihawks is soo hot and they make a lot of sense from an aesthetic pov for me but they don't compel me much outside of that so if i can ask, what's your interpretation of why u ship them? or like narratively what compels you to like them as a ship?

this is so long i'm so embarrasssed, but i tried to gather my thoughts a bit :)

first things first: a lot of fans say that horikoshi wasted dabihawks' potential but tbh i've appreciated that horikoshi has kept most of it between the lines for us to figure out, i think that mode fits reflects their dynamic (and the endeavor - dabi - hawks triangle) well.

Also I know you asked what I find appealing about the ship, not all of these interpretations are about romance/shipping; some are just about their general dynamic. as I keep saying, the yaoi is only secondary to their overall weirdness, that’s more appealing to me tbh.

the obvious canon dynamic: Dabi and Hawks are (filial) foils: they represent 2 opposing outcomes of what happens when endeavor/enji (we have to differenciate) basically shapes your life. they're two sides of the same coin that symbolizes endeavor's 2 sides: enji, that father who fails vs. endeavor, the hero who succeeds. I don't think I need to elaborate on this, but yeah it's pretty overt in the manga that they’re filial foils, the fact that they’re the same ages makes it even more obvious like they’re equal opposites and I love that sm.

my ship interpretation of their overall dynamic: dabi and Hawks can get under each other’s skin in a way that no one can; there is so much irritation but also uncomfortable intimacy, because how come this guy who barely knows me knows where it hurts the most??

I think dabi is easily irritated by hawks because – as mentioned above – hawks is the complete opposite of dabi, I just know hawks’ charming (& sleazy) hero persona would piss him offff, but that’s only surface level annoyance, once dabi starts digging, connects the dots, and realizes that hawks is weirdly attached to his colleague aka dabi’s dad? And that his dad basically saved hawks from his abusive dad?? and that endeavor set off hawks’s career as the youngest hero to enter to top 3??? That hawks basically has everything that was promised to dabi??? CUTE THE CAMERAS!!!!! the irony is NOT lost on dabi!!!!!!!!!!!! One thing I love about dabi is his resentment towards those who make him painfully aware of his failures in life, I think resentment, jealousy, grief for what could have been are so interesting to explore, especially for a 23yo character like you rlly lose your mind at that age.

But as easily as hawks irritates dabi, dabi can get on hawks’ nerves and hit him where it hurts like no one else, precisely because they’re inextricably tied to each other through endeavor. So dabi is ver intimate with hawks’ flaws & issues and likes to probe and poke……. I made a whole post about this, but I think the todorokis’ closure would’ve been less disappointing if dabihawks got to face each other one last time; this time with everyone present. Dabi could have reminded hawks that -- while he’s the one withering away in an oxygen chamber & hawks climbed up the career ladder and gets to work with endeavor – hawks is caged in a far more constricting way; he didn’t learn shit from twice’s death and that’s gonna haunt him, dabi would also say out loud what hawks is ignoring, namely that endeavor hasn’t chosen hawks once over his son (much to be said here let’s not digress oaughh). So hawks can have fun running after his father forever and secretly yearning paternal attention & validation. Dabi might be on the verge of death, but he got to reflect, let go, and change at least; Hawks’ character is SO stuck & and I think dabi should remind him of that <3 hawks should have nightmares sometimes <3 this is yaoi to me <3

This one isn’t about romance, but dabihawks are also so interesting to me because I think their relationship is kind of similar to dabi’s relationship with shoto: imo, hawks parallels dabi in a way that is analogous to the parallelism between dabi and shoto. As I said before, hawks and shoto both represent a life that was supposed to be dabi’s, but another parallel I see is that hawks and dabi are so similar and had the potential to connect (both as normal kids but also as damaged adults), but life is unfair and they never and on the other.

There’s a real tragedy in dabi’s isolation (endeavor forcibly isolating his children from each other is repeatedly mentioned), and I think that this can be extended to hawks as well, which is why there’s a LOT of fan work of them befriending each other as children 😊 but I think that in a more radical approach to the story, dabihawks could’ve also connected as damaged adults but let’s not get into that.

Tl;dr: they’re parallel lines that cannot reach each other or cross paths but there are enough hints to make you feel like they could find each other in a kinder universe…………… KILL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok now my yaoi interpretation of that: I think the dynamic that I’ve described in the point above lends itself really well to a vast array of outcomes they’re such a dynamic duo. I love the cute aus that are just about dbhx falling in love, but I also LOVE the doomed yaoi, there’s something beautiful about dabihawks doing their thing despite all the odds and the pride and the repulsion (let’s not get into that,,,,,,,,,,,). I love when their intimacy is permeated by an anticipation of betrayal like the quirks stay ON during sex, the breakup text is DRAFTED in their notes app, the IP address is always READY to get leaked, they have each other’s moms on SPEED dial to snitch on the other………………………… they’re not meant to be but they WILL fuck nasty ( and have surprisingly intimate moments) yup

attachment styles /yaoiimplied: I think dabi is an avoidant and hawks an anxiously attached partner. Which means that dabi is hyper independent and scared of emotional intimacy to the point of self-sabotage (he WILL create problems out of thin air and lash out at hawks when their weird situationship starts getting too comfortable). Which means that hawks is terrified of rejection (his parents left him & his clings so much to endeavor & he forces himself into the Todoroki family) and fears that he could lose whatever he and dabi have so he clings, which is so so scary to dabi. I see a lot of headcanons about dabi being possessive but I don’t agree at all; I think the second dabi feels like hawks might fall for sb else (they do cheat on each other I thin), he’s just gonna give lmaooo, dabi is NOT a fighter!!!!!!!!!!! His obsession is exclusive to his beef with his father!! He will NOT beg and fight for hawks’ love!!! Idk I like how their trauma gave them very different attachment patterns <3

names as another layer of intimacy (cute): this is in the manga so I don’t feel the need to elaborate on this, but there’s sth SO intimate about dabi and hawks both letting go of their birth names and those being such a big mystery for such a long time, both to the readership & characters. The fact that dabi finds out hawks’ name and CALLS him by his name during a fight ugh I love the juxtaposition of intimacy and violence. They probably use their 1st names during nice moments also keigo and touya are really cute names but I digress…..

names as another layer of intimacy (bad): while the paragraph above present this as rather cute and intimate, I think there’s also violence and a hierarchy at play when you use somebody’s deadname (I think we can call it that idk). Not only is there the juxtaposition of violence and intimacy when dabi uses hawks’ name, I think there’s also sth. deeply disrespectful about hawks using dabi’s given name like WHO are you to call him toya!!!!!!!!!!!! And the answer to that is that hawks uses it because endeavor uses it, which is so insane but whatever let’s not go there………….

also hotwings is such a good ship name sorry i was sold on that alone..............

sorry this whole page is yaoi to me, this fight is sexual in general well whatever let's move ON!!!!

Abjection: the aforementioned mutual irritation with each other that results from their uncomfortable & unwanted proximity feels so abject to meeeeeeeee

idk they have perfect yaoi equilibrium to me

the color symbolism :)

#SORRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #beybunaski #and we didn't even get to endeavor.................................................#dabihawks

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months

Note

hi love, may i have some sourdough bread and coffee with max (in a sort of twisted, claiming my rival as mine way). thank you so much and more power to your bakery 💚

bakery menu

feel free to submit your own order! i am happily working away at the bakery! clockin' in those hours!! this prompt made me shove all other projects to the side. you literally picked at two of my faves, haha. like YEAH!! so i hope you love this, this was a pleasure to write (now back to my other projects)!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, driver!reader, filth (!!!), smoking, baby trapping, missionary

you sighed and looked over your shoulder, the cigarette still between your fingers, "are you going to keep staring, verstappen or are you going to come over here?"

he uncrossed his arms and went over. he plucked the cigarette out from your fingers and took a drag, "girls like you shouldn't smoke. not very feminine."

you took the cigarette back and looked at him, "oh maxie, if you wanted a girly girl, you watched the ship sail years ago. i used to punch your bullies."

he sighed. you were right. childhood friends to rivals on the track with a dash of friends with benefits or whatever label of the month you chose to define your relationship.

max knew one thing. he wanted to mark you inside and out. he wanted to make sure that you were his. to call what he felt for you love was to call an inferno a spark. as he watched you smoke, he thought about putting his lips on your neck. he wanted to dig his blunt teeth into your throat and watch it bloom purple.

he also wanted to fuck you over the balcony, letting whoever down below know exactly where you belonged. under him. he hated you ferrari as much as he hated you in alpine only two years earlier. he always thought you belonged with red bull, not as a driver, but as a wag.

lately something else had been curling inside of him like a snake about to strike. the rattle of its tail warning his brain that this was what got him going. you. pregnant. with his kid.

end your name's legacy on the track and replace it with his. make sure that your name doesn't end up on the track for a good while, while verstappen survives, if not thrives for a long time to come. if you can't beat a rival on the track, get 'em pregnant!

you stamped out your cigarette of the cement ledge of the balcony before you dropped the butt to the ground. you looked at max, "you're staring at me like i'm a four course meal. can't find someone to get your dick went tonight?"

he had been lying for some time about getting sex elsewhere. it was impossible to sleep with other women when he was thinking about you. he even tried to find women that looked like you but it never cut it.

he snaked an arm around you middle and press his nose into your hairline, "it's been a while since we.. got together. don't you think?"

you looked at him and smiled a little, "are you asking me for sex, mister verstappen?" you chuckled, "i think that breaks several rules." you made a face.

he looked around briefly before he pulled you in for a firm kiss. when he pulled away and said, "if no one knows, is it really rule breaking?" he knew you could never say no to him, so after qualifier when he found a key card to your hotel room in his driver's room, he knew that had scored.

the sex between you two was passionate. it was never a dull moment. when he let himself into your hotel room like he owned the place, you were naked drying off after a shower.

"you dog." you said as you dropped the towel and headed towards the bedroom portion of the hotel room. max followed behind like a happy little mutt with his cock straining in his jeans.

he began to undress when you got up onto the bed. he watched you sitting at the edge while he took his belt off and jeans. you admired his toned figure. he wasn't ugly.

you had seen every phase of max, you two have known each other for far too long. that added to the rush of it all. it would make sense to anyone on the outside that you two would end up together and have like five kids. but instead the games you played were wicked.

once he was naked, he got on top of you. his impressively sized cock rubbed against your sweet pussy. he could feel the wetness against his achy tip.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, his blue eyes bore into yours as he made sure to tighten your legs around him.

you chuckled, "yeah right, verstappen. i think your swimmers died like a million years ago from all the racing." you held onto the pillow under your head. your legs wrapped around him tightly.

he laughed, "fine, fine. i'm joking. i think you're right." he was playing it off cool as if he didn't feel like he was going to jump out his bones at the prospect of getting you stuffed fat with his cum.

you laughed, "you and your dirty talk, verstappen. you always talk about wifing me up and me having your children. like i'm going to retire from racing." you tensed up for a moment when he eventually sank his cock into your soaked pussy.

he fit like a glove, that was how he knew. it was like he molded your pussy for him. no other man could have you and he was going to make sure of that. when he was done with you, you'd be at least five percent dutch.

that'll give you enough to give your hefty sons nice, strong names. legacy names for the track. he rutted against you, heavy, strong strokes. his cock nudged inside of you as he planted his hands on either side of you.

"you look good like this." he said as he pressed himself against you. your soft, pretty tits pressed against his chest as he moved against you.

you were only going to get more beautiful with time. the thought excited him. knowing that he had marked you in such an intimate way, a way that no other driver could. you were his, it was as simple as that!

the idea of you having another rival (or partner) made his skin crawl. he knew you better than you knew yourself. he could predict your movements easily both on and off the track. as he bullied his cock into your sweet pussy, he knew that he was the right fit for you.

he pressed his nose into your neck and continued to thrust into you. your pussy was soft and wet for him. a warmth went through his body as he rocked against you.

"i want to breed you. make you my wife. keep you home with our family. you don't need to be on the track anymore. you've scored more points than any other woman. so, it's time to settle down. we'd make some strong racers." he panted and felt the sweat down his back as he thrust into you.

you held the back of his head and whispered in his ear, "you're a funny guy, verstappen. if you get me pregnant, that kid is getting my last name. and they'll be racing under my country's flag."

he smirked to himself against your neck. you say that now, but a lot can change with time. he dug his fists into the covers and picked up the pace. he loved being so close to you.

your heart close to his. it was almost intimate if it wasn't for the hateful filth that was coming out of your mouths.

"i want you always. i want to ruin you for other men. and i'll make sure that you're not sleeping with other guys." he knew a sure fire way to prevent that, hard to fuck other men when you're full of his child.

"max. you're fucking insane." you panted as you looked at him once more. he knew that you were feeling the height of pleasure, and that honestly made him harder.

that he made you this way.

"i'm fuckin' close."

"good, good. my good wife." he purred, which only made you more turned on. god, what a possessive little freak with the breeding kink!

you clutched onto him tightly and almost bit down on his neck as you came. it washed over you and you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed. then you continued to cling onto him like a lifeline.

he liked the feeling of that and soothed you with gentle words and kissed as he felt close to his own climax.

"max... c'mon. fuck." you moaned as you dug your pretty nails into his back.

he soon after cursed loudly as he slammed his cock into you, making sure you took every last inch. he wanted to make sure that he finished far enough into you that his cum didn't have anywhere else to go but into your womb.

that was his objective. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts. you moaned into the kiss and laid there under him, breathless.

he slowed down his thrusts to catch his breath. you were still clutching the covers under you. you looked amazing under him, he was right. it was where you belonged.

he placed both hands on your stomach and started to thrust once again. one orgasm wasn't going to cut it for him. if he was going to make you a verstappen, it meant making sure his dna stuck to your sweet pussy.

you'd eventually race on sunday with cum still staining your panties and a pray that no one would notice.

it was july now and the heat was getting unbearable. it didn't help that sitting on your hips was a six month pregnant belly. you had spent since may in the nice little sundresses that max had picked out for you.

he was painfully doting, making sure the mother of his child had anything she needed. after all, you retirement was sudden and early. such a strong driving career cut short.

"you look so good." he'd often say and his large hands spanned your swollen middle in the hopes to feel his son shifting around. you knew the asshole got off to this.

you were trying to teach your unborn child as much of your mother tongue as possible, while he'd curl up with our middle at night and speak dutch. when you tried to stop him, he simply pressed into you further.

even parenthood felt like a small rivalry.

max believed that he won the rivalry, he was about to championship that year after blood tests came back that you were pregnant. you could've killed him when you stomped out of the doctor's office and almost strangled him.

you'd hate to admit it, but there was a domesticity that you sort of liked. while you were still trying to find things to do post-driving, it was nice to be in one place at one time. what had felt like your entire life had been on planes going between tracks. the press didn't bother you as much once the news cycle of your pregnancy died down and you could just be you.

while you wanted to kill max still, even as he was snuggled up beside you on the couch, his arm draped over your bump, you honestly couldn't ask for a better baby daddy. you wouldn't let max have his victory in your little rivalry, even as the gold ring you wore gleamed in the afternoon light, you'd never admit to your husband that he had bested you. because the way you looked at it, since you shared the same last name, it was your trophy too. <3

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pin-k-ink · 2 months

Text

REMINDER ⋆✦⋆ hoshina soshiro

synopsis ➸ two days. he couldn’t last two days without you.

tags ➸ needy!hoshina, mutual masturbation, dry humping, phone sex, voice kink, dirty talking, squirting, nipple play, implied shower sex (in flashback)

wc ➸ 2.7k

Soshiro groaned as he flopped back on the bed, one arm slung over his eyes. It had only been two days since you shipped out for that mission, but he was already losing his mind without you around.

He breathed in deeply, instantly surrounded by the lingering traces of your familiar scent on the sheets. Instinctively, Soshiro reached over and grabbed your pillow, hugging it close and inhaling the intoxicating floral notes. Just the barest hint of lavender had tension unwinding in his shoulders as he pictured you tucked against his side once more.

With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his stomach - face buried in the soft fabric as he fought to keep inappropriate thoughts about you at bay. But the subtle fragrance clung to his senses, stirring up vivid memories of nuzzling against the sensitive spots behind your ear, nosing through your tousled hair while your body molded perfectly to his.

Already, Soshiro felt himself growing aroused, hardening against the mattress as he rutted his hips shamelessly. Your pillow clutched tightly, he imagined it was your plush curves instead - the soft give of your ass cradling his swollen cock as he ground himself along that warm crevice with quiet desperation.

"Fuck...babygirl," he groaned, torn between pushing those forbidden thoughts aside or surrendering fully to chasing release. "What you do to me even when you're gone..."

It didn't help that your shampoo and body wash perfumed the air around him, clouding his senses with fresh reminders. Soshiro could still picture rivulets of soapy water trailing over the valleys of your back and shoulders from the night before you shipped out. How you'd arched into his roaming hands and sighed contentedly while he lathered every inch of your supple skin.

Soshiro bit his lip, recalling the way his fingertips grazed over your puckered nipples as he helped rinse you off. The soft moans that spilled from your mouth when his fingers brushed your clit before his hand slipped lower to cup the wet heat between your thighs.

That had quickly morphed into heated kisses under the spray, his calloused palms gripping your plush rear to grind his leaking cock together with your dripping pussy. The sounds of your breathless moans still rang in Soshiro's ears, spurring him on as he humped the mattress with increasing fervor now.

One hand shoved down the front of his loose sweats, fisting the throbbing length that remained painfully unsatisfied without your velvety cunt enveloping it snugly. Soshiro swore under his breath, all thoughts of restraint vanishing as he rapidly stroked himself to the mental images of you writhing and whimpering beneath him that final time.

Screw waiting for your return - he needed some form of release now before he completely lost his mind. His hips surged mindlessly as his fist rapidly brought himself to the precipice, jaw clenched and panting harshly. Just a few more tugs and he could pretend it was your velvet walls instead, dragging every drop of ecstasy from him in shuddering waves while you cried out his name.

Soshiro tensed, gut clenching as he verged on the edge. But even as his body thrashed towards oblivion, he couldn't escape craving your actual presence around him in the throes of rapture. No fantasy or desperate rutting could ever fully replace the transcendent bliss of your limbs tangling together while he hilted himself completely over and over.

With a guttural groan, Soshiro reached for his phone as dissatisfaction sparked fresh frustration despite his impending peak. Thumbs flew across the screen as he typed out the unbridled truth in a rare moment of vulnerability.

I'm losing my goddamn mind over here, gorgeous.

He shifted restlessly as the message went through, trying and failing to stave off his urges while awaiting any reply from your end that could ease this aching chasm.

Because even as his own release crested in shuddery spasms, thick, white ropes painting his chest, Soshiro already yearned for the day's end - when you would return to soothe his maddening hunger at long last...

You stretched out on the narrow bed with a tired sigh, the day's mission finally behind you for now. As various teammates shuffled around outside your temporary barracks quarters, you allowed yourself a rare moment of peace by checking your phone.

Your breath hitched at the unread message notification with Soshiro's name blazing across the top. Already you could envision the needy rasp of his voice, imagining whatever salacious words might paint your screen before even opening it.

I'm losing my goddamn mind over here, gorgeous.

You smirked at the predictably dramatic confession, cheeks flushing at the implications behind such a declaration. Of course your boyfriend would be climbing the walls in desperation after a mere two nights apart. The man was utterly insatiable in his constant need for physicality and the intimacy you shared.

Chewing your lip, you quickly typed out a reply.

Miss me that much already, tough guy? We'll be shipping back in like twelve hours tops.

His response was nearly instantaneous, making you squirm against the firm mattress.

That's half a day too long, babygirl. Been going outta my mind thinking of you and still walking around with this raging hard-on because of it. No fucking relief in sight...

You stifled a whimper at the blatant confession, heat swirling low in your belly as you imagined Soshiro sprawled out and aching for you back home. No doubt he was picturing all the ways he'd devour you upon your return, still worked up and deliciously frustrated with every passing hour apart.

Before you could overthink it, you tugged up the hem of your sleep shirt and snapped a quick photo from beneath the covers - the soft swell of your breasts barely concealed by the rumpled fabric and nipples peeking through the thin cloth. Impulsively, you hit send before-guessing could halt you.

There was a brief pause before your phone buzzed with another reply.

"Fuck, [Y/N]..." Soshiro's growled rasp through the voice note made your thighs clench instinctively. "You're playing with fire, sweetheart. Though I suppose I did ask for you to put me out of my misery one way or another after that lil' tease..."

You bit back a whine, hand already drifting beneath the covers to where slick was rapidly pooling between your thighs. There was no doubt in your mind that Soshiro was already touching himself, stroking that deliciously thick cock you craved while imagining what he'd do to you once you were back in his arms.

"Then let me indulge in some more details for you, tough guy," you finally replied, voice thick with need. "I'm totally stripped down now, just picturing you towering over me and pinning my wrists while you work me open with those fingers first..."

You let the fantasy tumble out in explicit detail after that, describing every lick and thrust you wished Soshiro could bestow upon your body. Each passing sentence seemed to make the empty ache inside you grow until you were squirming restlessly, fingers circling your swollen clit in frantic little motions.

Through it all, Soshiro didn't interrupt - only the occasional grunt or shuddering inhale giving away that he was matching your blazing words thrust for desperate thrust as you painted the most lurid scenes.

Only once you were reduced to a breathless, whimpering mess did his grated response finally filter through: "That's it, gorgeous...make me feel every goddamn fantasy you got coiled up inside that sexy head of yours. Gonna ruin us both all over again when you finally get back here, I swear it..."

You trembled at the promise, pussy clenching around your fingers as yet another forbidden image of Soshiro's roped physique surging over you slammed into your mind's eye. Already you could feel the molten rapture searing your veins at the prospect of his long-awaited homecoming rapidly approaching.

So you poured every lewd fantasy and carnal temptation you could into stoking both your fraying desires higher as your release finally crested. All the while praying those final fevered hours would somehow slip past so the glorious reckoning awaiting your ravished bodies could begin anew.

You lay panting softly as the aftershocks gradually ebbed, chest heaving and sweat-dampened hair sticking to your brow. A fresh buzz from your phone made you fumble for it amidst the tangled sheets.

"[Y/N], baby...please," Soshiro's voice rasped out in another voice message. You could immediately picture him wrecked - powerful frame sprawled boneless after chasing release to the vivid fantasies you painted. But his desperation clearly lingered strong.

"Can't keep going like this," he gasped out roughly, the sound of sheets rustling indicating he was shifting restlessly. "Need to hear that pretty voice of yours properly...all breathy and needy while you touch yourself thinking about me being there doing it instead."

You whimpered at the blatant plea, clenching your thighs instinctively as slick arousal throbbed between them anew. Despite the delirious high you were only just floating down from, Soshiro's unmistakable yearning set your senses aflame all over again.

"Please, gorgeous...call me," he practically growled, sounding utterly wrecked. "Lemme hear all the filthy little noises I'm missing out on right now."

The recording clicked off abruptly and you wasted no time scrambling up to hit the video call request symbol before your racing thoughts could catch up. Moments later, Soshiro's disheveled figure filled the display in all his rugged glory.

His powerful torso was bare and glistening with a light sheen, muscles tensing deliciously as he propped himself up on one arm. The other hand was blatantly trailing below the frame, movements stuttering ever so slightly at the sight of you flushed and rumpled on the tiny screen.

"There's my girl," he rumbled in that gravelly timbre you loved so much, gaze roving hungrily. "Looking just as wrecked as I pictured while I jerked myself to your voice..."

You tried and failed to bite back a needy sound, eyes dropping to take in the bulge of his arm shifting rhythmically beneath the sheets. There was no mistaking what he was doing, completely shameless in his blatant desperation.

"Soshiro..." you whined, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt almost shyly despite the bold way his stare pinned you. "You can't just ask me to—to put on a show like that, God..."

He growled low in his chest at your squirming protest, quicksilver eyes burning into yours with unchecked intensity. "Need to hear that sweet voice and watch you cum for me properly, baby...the visuals and audio clips just ain't cuttin' it anymore. You're driving me outta my mind over here."

Any lingering hesitation bled away at the gravelly plea. With newfound boldness, you tugged your shirt over your head and tossed it aside - exposing your flushed skin for his devouring perusal. Soshiro's abdominal muscles clenched visibly, breath stuttering at the sight.

"Pretty girl..." he growled in quiet benediction. In an instant, the distinct sounds of frantic pumping filled the air again as he stroked himself to full attention. "My gorgeous queen treating me to the real thing at last after keeping me begging and starving for two days now...c'mon, take proper care of that ache for me."

Any restraint shattered in the face of his desperate need. Laying back, you allowed the hand not gripping your phone to roam your overheated form in teasing circuits - rolling a nipple between your fingertips with a breathless gasp. Soshiro swore vividly at the display, fist pumping rapidly as his hooded stare pinned you in place utterly.

"That's it...make a mess of yourself until all you can think about is me being there to fuck you properly," he rumbled with dark promise. "Gonna ruin every inch of you until your pretty eyes roll back when I finally get my mouth all over that sexy body again, I swear it..."

You cried out at the explicit promise, thighs parting shamelessly as the slick sounds of Soshiro stroking himself echoed between you. Your hips rocked up instinctively, one hand dipping lower to rub furiously at your clit. "S-Soshiro, wanna see you too...all of you."

The breathless request was enough to make him growl in approval, one massive arm flexing as he shifted to rip the sheets aside completely. Your hungry eyes drank in the sight of his frame looming on the tiny screen, muscles flexing and cock jutting thick and rigid against his rippling abs.

"This what you wanted, gorgeous?" he asked with a smirk, free hand gripping the base and stroking upward. His thumb swiped over the flared crown, spreading a glistening pearl of pre-cum across the sensitive slit and making him hiss through his teeth. "Wish it was your pretty little mouth wrapping around my cock instead, baby..."

A fresh flood of heat flooded your core, pussy clenching around your digits as you whimpered. "Want it, wanna suck you so bad," you whined, already craving the stretch of his thickness filling your mouth to the brim. "Need it, please..."

"I know, babygirl," he panted out, hips rocking up in a frenzied tempo as his grip tightened. "And I'm gonna give it to you properly once you're back home, I swear it...just need a lil' reminder to tide me over until then. So get those fingers inside yourself now, gorgeous. Give me a good show for waiting so patiently..."

The ragged rasp in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing over you. You didn't hesitate this time, sinking twofingers knuckle-deep with a loud cry as your hips jerked up. Soshiro's answering groan filled the air as his pace surged, muscles cording and glistening as he rutted into his fist.

"Just like that," he urged breathlessly, eyes raking over your writhing body. "Fuck, I can hear how wet you are even over the phone...bet you're gonna drench my cock the second I'm inside you."

You keened helplessly, head thrown back as you pumped your digits rapidly, grinding the heel of your palm against your swollen clit. The mental image he conjured up had your whole body seizing in rapturous agony.

"Goddamn, baby...you're a goddamn vision," Soshiro rasped. His eyes burned into you from the screen, quicksilver gaze smoldering with pure adoration and a darker hunger. "You close, gorgeous? Gonna cum for me like this, knowing I'm jerking off watching every inch of that sexy body fall apart?"

"Y-Yes!" you wailed, legs quaking as the coiling pressure in your gut threatened to snap. "So close, oh God, Soshiro...miss you so fucking much, just need to—"

Your babbling dissolved into a strangled scream as your orgasm crashed over you, hips jerking wildly as something wetsplattered your wrist and belly. Distantly, you could hear Soshiro cursing a litany as his pace quickened.

"Fucking hell, look at the mess you made," he growled, fist pumping furiously now. "That's it, just keep gushing and cumming for me, gorgeous...I'm almost—"

You watched his expression twist, a choked gasp escaping as he shuddered and erupted in thick ropes of white, splashing across his tensed abdomen. The sight left you whimpering anew, fingers still rubbing your pulsing walls and milking out the last of your orgasm.

When you both finally regained control, you were a trembling mess - Soshiro's panting breaths still filtering through the speaker. "Fuuuck," he groaned, lazily rubbing his cock through the mess he'd made and spreading it all over his skin.

"So goddamn hot," he added with a wolfish grin, staring back at your flushed form with renewed hunger. "But I think I'm even more turned on by how badly I miss having you around to actually clean this up for me, babe..."

You whined at the thought, biting your lip and feeling another gush of slick coating your fingers at the mere suggestion. Soshiro groaned at the display, licking his lips and stroking himself idly. "C'mon, sweetheart...I know you love the taste of me, but why don't you clean those fingers off properly and give me something nice to fantasize about instead."

The low command made your pussy clench in renewed need. Without a word, you quickly obeyed - bringing your soaked digits up and sucking them clean one by one. You made a point of swirling your tongue obscenely, humming in approval as the musky flavor flooded your mouth.

"God, woman..." Soshiro rasped, the sight clearly spurring him back to full hardness already. He smirked as you stared hungrily at his engorged cock, twitching in his grasp. "Don't worry, babygirl. You'll be choking on this soon enough. Just a few more hours and I'm gonna make good on all these promises, I swear it."

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elryuse · 2 months

Text

I'm sorry, Can I Be Yours

Winter X Male Reader

Tags : Childhood Friends, Friends To Lovers, Kiss, Teasing, Fluff, Virgin Sex, Creampie, Good Ending?

The School bell blared, jolting me out of my reverie. I scanned the emptying hallway, searching for Winter's familiar pearly blonde hair. My stomach clenched when I spotted her surrounded by her posse, their laughter echoing down the corridor. Winter, the girl who used to chase butterflies with me at recess, now seemed like a distant star, dazzling yet untouchable.

It wasn't always like this. Back in elementary school, Winter, or Minjeong as I called her then, was the new kid, a shy sparrow adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I, the self-proclaimed schoolyard ambassador, had swooped in, determined to be her friend. We were an unlikely pair – me, the rambunctious chatterbox, and her, the quiet observer with eyes that held galaxies within them. But somehow, it clicked. We built sandcastles that defied the tide, shared scraped knees and ice cream cones, our laughter echoing through the playground.

High school, however, had cast a long shadow over our friendship. Winter blossomed into an ethereal beauty, her smile lighting up every room she entered. Admirers swarmed around her like bees to a rose, and her schedule became a whirlwind of student council meetings, dance practices, and social gatherings. I, on the other hand, remained comfortably obscure, content with the company of my camera and a well-worn book.

The distance wasn't physical, not yet. We still sat together at lunch, a forced routine amidst the chaos. But the easy conversations, the comfortable silences, those had become a distant memory. Now, an awkward tension hung between us, a chasm filled with unspoken words and longing glances that pierced my heart.

One afternoon, at the usual lunch table, Winter was surrounded by her usual crowd, their voices a flurry of excitement about the upcoming school festival. I stole a glance at her, my heart sinking at the coldness in her eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth that used to reside there.

"Hey, Winter," I began hesitantly, my voice barely a whisper above the din. "They were talking about volunteers for the photography booth at the festival. You know I take a decent picture or two."

A flicker of something, maybe annoyance, crossed her features before she schooled her expression into a polite smile.

"Oh, right," she said, her voice devoid of its usual enthusiasm. "Yeah, maybe you can help out. Hana mentioned you were good with that camera of yours."

The casual dismissal stung. Hana? We hadn't discussed the festival, and the way Winter phrased it made it seem like it was Hana's idea, not mine. I forced a smile, the bitterness clinging to my tongue.

"Sure," I mumbled, pushing my untouched lunch tray away. "Just let me know what needs to be done."

The rest of the lunch break passed in a blur of forced conversation and stolen glances. As the final bell rang, I gathered my things, the weight of our strained friendship heavy on my chest. Winter barely acknowledged me as she swept out of the classroom, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Was this the end of our story? The question echoed in the empty classroom, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between us.

The following week, a new face appeared in our homeroom class. A girl with long, flowing black hair and a face that could launch a thousand ships, but her posture screamed timidity. She shuffled in, her eyes downcast, avoiding eye contact with the sea of curious faces. The usual welcoming chatter died down, replaced by a tense silence.

As the teacher droned on about expectations and school policies, I couldn't help but steal glances at the new girl. Her name was Lee Seo-Ah, according to the attendance sheet. Unlike Winter, who captivated the room with her mere presence, Seo-Ah seemed to shrink into herself, disappearing into the background.

A pang of sympathy stabbed at my heart. I remembered all too well the awkwardness of being the new kid, the crushing loneliness of trying to navigate unfamiliar territory. Winter, once the shy newcomer, had effortlessly blossomed into the center of attention. Seo-Ah, on the other hand, seemed trapped in a shell of her own making.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, the usual flurry of introductions and small talk began. But Seo-Ah remained isolated, a solitary island amidst a bustling sea. I couldn't just stand by and watch.

Taking a deep breath, I approached her desk, my heart pounding a nervous rhythm against my ribs. "Hi, I'm Y/n," I said, offering a friendly smile. "Welcome to our school."

Seo-Ah looked up, startled, her eyes wide and filled with a flicker of surprise. For a moment, she didn't speak, then a shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"H-hi," she finally mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm Seo-Ah. It's... nice to meet you."

Her shyness was endearing, a stark contrast to the usual boisterousness of the classroom. "Seems like you're new here," I continued, hoping to ease the tension. "Anything I can help you with?"

Seo-Ah hesitated, then bit her lip. "Well, I'm a bit lost. I don't know where my next class is."

Relief washed over me. "No problem at all. I have the same class next. Let me show you the way."

As we walked down the hallway, Seo-Ah spoke in hushed tones, her words punctuated by long pauses. She told me she was from Busan, a coastal city known for its seafood and beaches. She loved art, particularly painting, but was too shy to join any clubs.

I listened intently, offering words of encouragement and pointing out landmarks along the way. To my surprise, Seo-Ah slowly began to open up, her voice gaining a hint of confidence. By the time we reached her next class, a hesitant smile played on her lips.

"Thanks, Y/n," she said, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"No worries at all," I replied, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest. "Welcome to the group, Seo-Ah."

Perhaps, in helping Seo-Ah find her way, I had also found a way to bridge the growing distance between myself and Winter. After all, kindness, like a pebble tossed into a still pond, could create ripples that reached far and wide.

A couple of weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. During lunch breaks, I found myself gravitating towards Seo-Ah, her infectious laugh and bubbly personality a welcome change from the strained atmosphere I shared with Winter. We'd discuss everything under the sun – from her passion for painting to the latest K-pop group she was obsessed with. Slowly, her shyness melted away, replaced by a comfortable openness.

One afternoon, at the usual lunch table, Winter caught me engrossed in a conversation with Seo-Ah. Her expression was unreadable, but a flicker of something, maybe jealousy, crossed her features for a fleeting moment before she masked it with a polite smile.

"Looks like you've made a new friend, Y/n," she said, her voice cool and detached.

"Y-yeah," I replied, trying to keep the awkwardness at bay. "Seo-Ah just transferred from Busan. We get along pretty well."

Winter simply nodded, her gaze lingering on Seo-Ah for a beat too long before she turned away to continue her conversation with Hana. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the easy banter I shared with Seo-Ah.

During that week, I discovered another one of Seo-Ah's talents. While helping her unpack her art supplies after school, she pulled out a sketchbook filled with breathtaking landscapes and portraits. My jaw dropped in awe.

"Wow, Seo-Ah, these are amazing!" I exclaimed, flipping through the pages. "You're incredibly talented."

Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "Thanks, Y/n. I actually joined the art club this week. They seemed really nice."

A surge of excitement coursed through me. "That's fantastic! Maybe we can even work on some projects together sometime. I'm in the photography club, and we're always looking for new angles and perspectives."

Her eyes lit up. "R-really? That sounds awesome!"

Over the next few days, Seo-Ah and I spent our free time bouncing ideas off each other. We'd discuss light and shadow, composition, and the emotions a photograph or painting could evoke. With her, there was none of the awkward silences or unspoken expectations that had infiltrated my relationship with Winter. It felt… easy, comfortable.

Meanwhile, the distance between Winter and me continued to widen. Our conversations were short and superficial, filled with long pauses and forced smiles. I missed our late-afternoon talks, the way we could just sit in comfortable silence, knowing each other's thoughts without needing to speak them. But Winter was a whirlwind of student council meetings and social gatherings now, leaving me feeling like an outsider peering into a world I no longer belonged to.

One Friday afternoon, while Seo-Ah and I were discussing camera settings in the library, Winter approached our table, her face etched with a forced smile.

"Hey, Y/n," she said, her voice clipped. "Just wanted to let you know there's a student council meeting this evening. You're… welcome to join."

Her words felt like an afterthought, an obligation rather than an invitation. Seo-Ah, sensing the tension, chimed in.

"Oh, a student council meeting? That sounds important. You should definitely go, Y/n."

Winter's smile faltered for a second, then she straightened her shoulders. "Yeah, sure," she said, her gaze flickering to Seo-Ah before darting away. "See you guys later."

As she walked away, a knot of frustration tightened in my stomach. Was I missing something here? Did Winter feel threatened by Seo-Ah's presence? Or was it simply a case of her being too busy with her own things to acknowledge our dwindling friendship?

Stepping into the student council meeting room felt like entering a different world. The air crackled with nervous energy, students flitting around finalizing decorations and posters. Minjeong, usually radiating icy efficiency, seemed to have a vibrant life of her own here. Her voice, sharp and clear as she addressed the room, held an undeniable power.

I found myself an empty chair at the back, feeling strangely out of place amidst all the organized chaos. The topic of the meeting – the upcoming school fireworks festival – was a whirlwind of budgets, logistics, and safety regulations. Hana, Minjeong's ever-reliable vice president, rattled off numbers with laser focus, while Minjeong herself managed the discussion with a firm but encouraging demeanor.

As the meeting progressed, I stole glances at Minjeong. The fierce, focused leader I witnessed was so different from the quiet girl who had been my best friend. A pang of longing crossed my chest for those simpler times. Then, our eyes met.

Caught off guard, Minjeong's gaze flickered for a moment before she looked away, a hint of pink dusting her cheeks. A shy smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a fleeting glimpse of the girl I knew beneath the student council president facade. The warmth of that smile sent a jolt through me. Was there still hope for us?

Suddenly, Hana's voice cut through my contemplation. "So, who's up for grabbing some pizza after this? We've still got hours of work to do before the week's out."

A chorus of groans and cheers filled the room. Minjeong chuckled, a soft sound that seemed foreign on her focused face. "Sounds good, Hana. But make it quick, alright? We don't want to be here all night."

As the meeting wrapped up, the room buzzed with newfound energy. Students piled into a corner, chatting excitedly about pizza toppings and movie plans. I hesitated, unsure of my place in this world.

"Y/n?" Minjeong's voice caught my attention. She stood at the front of the room, her gaze hesitant but inviting. "You coming to pizza night?"

The question hung in the air, a test of the fragile thread that still connected us. My heart pounded in my chest. This could be a step forward, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between us. Or it could be a painful reminder of how far things had changed.

I looked at Minjeong, her eyes filled with a nervous anticipation that mirrored my own. Taking a deep breath, I offered a smile, the same shy smile we used to share in elementary school.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice a little rough around the edges. "I'd like that."

A genuine smile, bright and unreserved, broke across Minjeong's face. It was a small step, a single word in a long conversation, but for the first time in weeks, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Perhaps, amidst the chaos of student council meetings and new friendships, there was still a place for us, for the bond we once shared.

Stepping into the bustling pizza parlor, I was greeted by the aroma of melted cheese and bubbling tomato sauce. Minjeong's friends, a vibrant bunch I only recognized from school hallways, were already digging into their slices, their laughter a welcome counterpoint to the tense atmosphere of the meeting earlier.

Minjeong, perched at the end of a long table, her cheeks flushed with a hint of nervous excitement, spotted me. A radiant smile broke across her face, chasing away the serious leader persona from before. She patted the seat next to her, a silent invitation.

As I settled in, a chorus of curious glances and playful nudges fell upon me. A girl with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin leaned forward.

"So, Y/n," she began, her voice dripping with friendly interrogation, "how long have you known our Minjeong? Spill the secrets of your epic friendship!"

A wave of heat flooded Minjeong's cheeks, her cheeks turning the color of the pepperoni slices on the table. She mumbled something inaudible under her breath, burying her face in her pizza slice. I chuckled, the sound warming the air.

"Well Actually," I said, taking a bite of my own pizza, "we go way back. All the way back to elementary school."

A collective gasp escaped the group. Stories of elementary school crushes and childhood sweethearts circulated with wide-eyed wonder. Seeing Minjeong squirm under the spotlight only endeared her to me even more.

"She was this shy little thing," I continued, my voice filled with a smile, "always hiding behind her art folders. I just decided she needed a friend and dragged her into all sorts of adventures."

Minjeong peeked at me over her pizza slice, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of shyness and amusement. My heart stuttered in my chest. Even after all this time, her gaze still held the power to send butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

"And did those adventures include falling head over heels for each other?" one of the guys piped up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The question hung heavy in the air. A long silence stretched, broken only by the clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation. I met Minjeong's gaze, a silent conversation unfolding between us.

"I…," I hesitated, taking a deep breath. "The truth is, Minjeong has always been special to me. Ever since that first day in elementary school, there was something about her. Her quiet strength, her kindness, her way of seeing the world through those incredible eyes."

Minjeong's entire face turned crimson, her lips forming a silent "wow." The rest of the table, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, remained silent, their eyes shifting between us with anticipation.

"And you, Y/n?" Minjeong finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible. "Do you still feel the same way?"

"More than you know," I said, my voice sincere. "Seeing you all grown up, this amazing leader everyone admires… it just makes me realize how much I care about you."

The moment stretched, charged with unspoken emotions. Then, with a roar of approval, Minjeong's friends erupted in cheers.

"Oh my god, you guys are perfect for each other!"

"Finally! It was about time someone confessed!"

Minjeong, overwhelmed by the sudden outburst, hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a mixture of shyness and laughter. My own heart pounded with a mixture of hope and disbelief. Could this really be happening?

As the cheers subsided, a shy smile peeked out from behind Minjeong's hands. Looking at me, her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. Was it fear? Joy? Relief?

"Well, Y/n," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It seems like you spilled the biggest secret of all."

I grinned, leaning closer. "Only the one I felt was most important."

The rest of the night was a blur of happy chatter, shared stories, and stolen glances. The seeds of doubt I'd harbored for weeks began to fade, replaced by a warm flicker of hope. Perhaps, amidst the changing tides of high school, our childhood connection could blossom into something more. As we walked home under the soft glow of the streetlights, a comfortable silence settled between us, a silence that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Maybe, just maybe, our story wasn't over yet.

As we strolled away from the pizza parlor, the streetlights cast soft yellow pools on the sidewalk. The air was thick with the unspoken words that hung between us. Finally, Minjeong broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper.

"Y/n," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you… hate me?"

The question struck me like a physical blow. Hate her? The girl who had been my closest companion, my confidante? It was a ridiculous notion.

"Why would I hate you?" I asked gently, my voice laced with concern.

"For everything," she mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes. "For how I treated you these past three years. For being so cold and distant."

I stopped walking, turning to face her. Minjeong's face was illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Minjeong-Ah, listen to me," I said, cupping her face in my hands. "You were focused on school, student council, all those responsibilities. It's natural. You've become this amazing leader, kind and strong. I could never hate you for that."

She shook her head, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "But you must have felt so alone. Like I replaced you."

"It wasn't like that," I assured her, wiping away the stray tear with my thumb. "It just… it's a shame we drifted apart. I miss the talks we used to have, the silly jokes, the shared dreams."

A sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in my chest. Tears soaked through my shirt as she held onto me for dear life.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," she cried, her voice muffled against my chest. "I'm such an idiot. Seo-Ah is great, and I'm happy she has a friend, but… but you're different. You've always been different."

My heart ached for her, for the pain she had unknowingly inflicted. "Seo-Ah's a friend," I said, stroking her hair soothingly. "But you, Minjeong… you're so much more."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "More?"

"We grew up together," I continued, my voice soft. "We shared secrets, dreams, a lifetime of memories. Seo-Ah may be a new chapter, but you… you're the whole book."

Tears streamed down her face, each one a silent apology. "I-i messed up," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "The thought of losing you to someone else… it scared me to death. But I was too scared to admit it, too scared to even talk to you."

Understanding dawned on me. Her coldness, her distance, it was all a misguided attempt to protect herself from the possibility of losing our bond. The irony wasn't lost on me – her actions had almost achieved the very outcome she feared.

Enfolding her in a hug once more, I whispered into her hair, "It's okay, Minjeong. We can start over. Together."

Her body trembled against mine, a mixture of relief and hope washing over her. The night was filled with apologies, whispered confessions, and the bittersweet promise of a new beginning. We walked hand in hand, not as childhood friends, but as something more, something that transcended labels. We walked, not just towards her house, but towards a future we would write together, a future where communication replaced silence, and where the warmth of our friendship could finally blossom into something beautiful.

The walk to Minjeong's house felt different under the soft glow of the streetlights. The air, once thick with unspoken words, now crackled with a nervous energy, a budding promise. As we reached her doorstep, the weight of the emotional rollercoaster we'd just been on settled in.

Minjeong, sniffling and wiping away the last of her tears, looked at me with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "Would you… would you like to stay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Staying the night at her place felt like venturing into uncharted territory. Was it too soon? Yet, the thought of leaving her on such a vulnerable note felt unbearable.

"I… I don't know," I stammered, unsure of the protocol for such a situation.

Tears welled up in her eyes again, threatening to spill over. "Please, Y/n," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

My resolve crumbled. How could I say no to those tear-filled eyes, to the raw vulnerability she was displaying? "Okay," I sighed, offering her a weak smile. "I'll stay."

Relief washed over her face, a radiant smile replacing the tear tracks. She fumbled with her keys, finally unlocking the door and ushering me inside.

The familiar scent of her home, a mixture of lavender and something vaguely sweet, instantly transported me back to our childhood sleepovers. As I entered her bedroom, the floodgates of nostalgia opened.

The walls were adorned with a tapestry of our shared history – a photo of us grinning goofily at a carnival, a drawing we'd made together during a rainy afternoon, a faded ticket stub from that time we snuck into a movie. Every picture, every memento, whispered of a friendship that had weathered storms, unspoken yet understood.

A choked sob escaped Minjeong's lips as she noticed my gaze tracing the memories on the wall. "It's… it's like a museum in here," she sniffled, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

I walked over to her, my heart overflowing with a cocktail of emotions. "It's beautiful," I whispered, reaching out to touch a photo of us on our first day of elementary school. "A reminder of everything we've been through."

Minjeong's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. As if making a sudden decision, she began to slowly undress, her movements filled with a nervous anticipation.

Shock momentarily paralyzed me. "Minjeong-Ah?" I stammered, unsure of how to interpret her actions.

She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with a newfound courage. "Y/n," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "I know this might seem crazy, but… all this time, all I ever wanted was you."

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken desires. Before I could respond, she leaned in, hesitantly at first, then with a growing sense of urgency. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was both tentative and filled with a desperate longing.

It was a kiss that tasted of tearful apologies, unspoken confessions, and the bittersweet joy of a rekindled connection. In that kiss, we bridged the gap of lost years, the unspoken words replaced by a silent promise of a future we would write together.

Pulling away, breathless and a little dazed, we stared into each other's eyes. They held a newfound depth, a reflection of the emotions we had shared.

"Minjeong-Ah," I finally managed to breathe, my voice thick with emotion. "I… I thought I'd lost you."

"Me too," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy. "But we're here now, Y/n. And this time," she continued, a determined glint in her eyes, "I'm not letting go."

Hearing those words, I immediately kissed her again. This time with so much passion and hunger to love her even more. minjeong share to play with my tounge,Something that I didn't know she would ever learned.

"M-minjeong-Ah.. You're so pretty". I blurted out, My words of praise basically flies out on its own. Minjeong blushes, Before planting another kiss to my lips. Her soft and plump lips, a cushion to my own.

"I-i want to try it... I-i want to do it with you Y/n". Minjeong blushes, Her hands touching the entrance of her now wet pussy. I blushed deeply, Not expecting that we'll come this far.

But I now know, that we are meant for each other. We both loved each other. I promised, I would never let her down anymore. I would love her with all of my heart.

"I-i'm putting it in Minjeong-Ah. Tell me if it hurts okay"? I gently caresses her face. As I started to slowly thrust my dick into her pussy, Minjeong immediately moaned, Her body trembling, as her hole started to widen, and not long after that. I have successfully inserted my whole dick deep into her pussy. As her hymen broke, Blood soon come out. I panicked, Asking Minjeong if she's alright.

She seemed to be trembling, and crying. I tried to pull back. But minjeong yelled "Noo.. Don't pull it out... I-i can handle it".

I hesitated, I didn't want this experience to hurt her. I explained it to her, that she doesn't need to force herself, and we can take it slowly. But to my suprise, Minjeong push me back, before straddling me.

"No.. No.. I want this.. I need this... Please don't leave me Y/n... I can handle this.. So please... caressing my face let me pleasure you". I immediately blushed hearing those words coming from her mouth. In the end I nodded, Letting her know I'll do it.

Minjeong started to move her hips slowly, Adjusting to the pain and pleasure that her body is currently having. And after a while, She finally found her pace and started to move faster and faster. We both moaned at how good this feels, And I just can't help but to admire her fit body, and her beautiful pair of tits.

"I-i know it's not the biggest... B-but.. Please love them". Minjeong blushes, as she turns her head around. I giggled before planting a kiss to her tits. Admiring them for how perfect they were. Mineong immediately smiled, Before planting another kiss to my lips.

After a while, I felt like I was near to reach my orgasm. As I saw Minjeong Continue swaying her hips, Something took over me and I gently put Minjeong into a missionary position. Minjeong legs immediately craddled surrounding my body, as her legs tightened. Her hand gripped the back of my body, As I kept on kissing her heck.

"Y/n!!! Y/n.. I'm close.. Fuck.. I'm so close..". Minjeong cried, as The pleasure was too much for the both of us. I told her that I'm also close.

"Shoot it inside me... I-it's okay... I want it..".

"W-whatt! No we can't... It's too dangerous minjeong... I'll shoot it outside".

"Noooo.. Please... I want your cum... Please... ".

As minjeong kept begging, and as I closely reached my limit. I can't help but to shoot my seed deep within her womb. As I did this, Minjeong moaned and tightly held me. Our body trembled in pleasure, and we finally reached our euphoria together.

After panting a while, We both Chukled before kissing each other for the last time, as we finally fell asleep. We held each other close, our bodies radiating a warmth that chased away the chill of the night. The room filled with the sound of our gentle breaths and the soft thudding of our hearts, a symphony of rediscovered love and a promise of a future where childhood friendship could finally blossom into something beautiful and everlasting.

Sunlight streamed through the window, painting golden stripes across Minjeong's face. She stirred, a sleepy smile curving her lips. Glancing beside her, she found me still nestled in the sheets, the events of last night replaying vividly in her mind. A blush crept up her cheeks as she remembered the passionate confessions and rekindled love that had blossomed under her very roof.

"Y/n," she whispered, nudging me gently. "Time to wake up. We don't want to be late for school."

I groaned playfully, pulling the covers over my head for a moment longer. "Five more minutes?" I mumbled, the warmth of the sheets and the memory of Minjeong close beside me making it hard to leave.

She chuckled, a sound like wind chimes dancing in a summer breeze. "Not a chance, sleepyhead. We have a whole day of classes and stolen glances ahead of us."

Her words were a sweet melody to my ears. Sitting up, I stretched, my gaze lingering on her. "Thank you, Minjeong-Ah," I said, my voice husky with sleep and unspoken emotions.

"For what?" she asked, tilting her head.

"For everything," I replied, cupping her face in my hands and leaning in for a soft kiss. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes of the renewed connection we shared.

The morning unfolded in a whirlwind of hurried breakfasts, stolen kisses in between brushing teeth, and nervous excitement as we walked to school together, hand in hand. As we reached our classroom, I was met with a concerned Seo-Ah, her eyes wide with worry.

"Y/n!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "Where have you been? I texted and called you a million times; I was scared something happened!"

My heart twinged with a pang of guilt. Seo-Ah's genuine concern warmed me, and I realized how much I valued our friendship. With a sheepish grin, I turned to Minjeong, taking her hand in mine.

"Seo-Ah," I began, my voice laced with a newfound confidence, "there's something I need to tell you. Minjeong and I… we're a couple now."

Seo-Ah's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of sadness flitting across her face for a fleeting moment. But then, a genuine smile bloomed on her lips.

"Oh wow," she said, her voice filled with unexpected joy. "Congratulations, you two! I always thought you had a special connection."

Relief flooded me. I was worried how Seo-Ah would react, but her understanding and well-wishes warmed the air.

The rest of the day was a blur of excited whispers from classmates, stolen glances across the classroom, and the thrill of a newfound love. After school, Minjeong and I decided to celebrate. We walked hand-in-hand down a street lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate pink petals showering us like confetti.

"This feels like a dream," Minjeong whispered, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"A dream I never want to wake up from," I replied, squeezing her hand.

We stopped at a quaint ice cream shop, the aroma of sweet waffle cones wafting through the air. We ordered our favorite flavors, sharing bites and laughing like children. As we savored the cool treat, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected detours lead us to the sweetest destinations.

Looking into Minjeong's eyes, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within them, I knew that our story was far from over. It was a story of friendship, of rediscovery, and of a love that had weathered the storms of time and finally blossomed into something beautiful. And as we walked into the sunset, hand in hand, with the promise of forever etched in our hearts, I knew this was just the beginning of our happily ever after.

The End

A/n : Hey Guys, Elryuse here. just want to say, This is probably one of my favorite stories/fics that I've ever written so far. The characterization of Winter/Minjeong really fit in this story. But I have to say, Justice for the Seo-Ah man. Initially, In my first draft of the story, Seo-Ah would be a contender for Winter, However while I was writing, I think this is for the best. So I settled for her losing quicker in the story.

And I wanted to apologize to some of you guys, who have requested for a fics, But I'm currently focusing my priority for my ko-fi fans and for people who ordered fics personally. But don't be sad, I would still definitely do some of your requests y'all. Hope you enjoyed this story guys. 🤗

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