#He now lives in a world where fate and will are actually things and he’s just down to have fun now

[lividstar]

干満 — ♡ GOLDEN HOUR.

៚ wc: 31k (idk what happened)

៚ fluff, barista!seonghwa x florist!reader, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, woo is your bff, copl joong cameo

៚ You’ve always had a knack for finding beauty in the most ordinary of things, a trait that serves you well in your work as a florist at your grandmother’s flower shop. Every petal, every stem, holds a world of wonder in your eyes. It’s this appreciation for the exquisite that draws you to the quaint café just a stone’s throw away from your apartment. The cozy ambiance and friendly staff have made it a home away from home, but even so, it’s the long-haired boy who works behind the scenes in the kitchen who truly catches your eye. You long to unravel his being like a delicate bloom waiting to unfurl its petals, but you do so in silence, never being brave enough to make a move. Yet fate has decided it has had enough of you being a coward. As Valentine's Day approaches, your world is thrown into chaos when your grandmother’s flower shop is tasked with providing flowers for a special event at a café, which just happens to be the one where Mr. Pretty Boy™️ works at.

The intoxicating aroma engulfing the interior of the coffee shop gave you a warm welcome, the scent immediately finding itself brushing past your nose as the bells hung from above the door clink against each other, signaling a new arrival to the employees, making them look up from what they’re doing to briefly greet you before going back to work. Upon recognizing you immediately, the smiles on their faces when they greeted you were far different from the ones they gave to other customers—this is something that you never fail to notice, and you believe that perhaps it’s because you’re one of their most loyal customers, having been visiting the place since the first day they opened.

The coffee they brew and the pastries they bake are already good by themselves, so the fact that they’re located near where you live is just all but a bonus factor. You think that even if you were to live from a farther distance from the café, you’d still end up visiting the place just as often as you do now. Your eyes scanned all over the place, looking for an empty seat to occupy—ones that are near the window, preferably.

Finally spotting a vacant seat at the very back of the café, you hurried over, not wanting anyone to occupy it before you did. Only after you placed your bag on the sofa and sunk yourself on the cushion did you realize that this seat wasn’t exactly going to be able to provide you a… proper view for what, or who, rather, you actually came for.

He rarely ever comes out from where he works inside the back kitchen, and if he does, usually, it would be whenever one of his co-workers would request for his presence, most of the time the reason being them needing help with either cleaning, taking out the trash, so on and so forth. He’s never been tasked to take up the job of taking customers’ orders, let alone deliver it to their tables, and you’d know, since you’ve been visiting their café before he even started working here. All you knew about him was his name, thanks to the name tag attached to his uniform.

Park Seonghwa.

The first time you saw him was about five months ago, and his hair wasn’t as long as it is now. You were able to tell him apart from everyone else as a new employee with the way the older ones were guiding him with all the basics, and also because you know you’ve never seen such a face like his amongst the other workers before. It felt like you were in a western romance movie from the 90’s locking eyes with your love interest for the first time while he was shown in every angle as you sat there with comically widened eyes and a mouth left agape, the world around both of you coming down to a stop.

You didn’t see him often anymore after that, and you actually believed he already got fired at some point, but it wasn’t until you saw him closing the shop one evening when you passed by it on the other side of the road on your way home from your grandmother’s flower shop where you worked.

It’s safe to say that you’ve been captivated ever since then. It was just too bad he was given a position that doesn’t require him to head out and socialize with customers, but you figured things would be better the way they were meant to be. He doesn’t seem like someone who’s much of a talker, and neither were you.

He’s meant to stay in the back kitchen, and you’re meant to stay sitting by the tables. It wouldn’t be hard for one to tell that future interactions between both of you would be impossible, but perhaps you like things better that way. He gets to be paid by doing his job, and you get to make your days better by admiring him from afar silently.

Just then, one of the café’s workers approached your table with a familiar smile.

“The usual for Saturdays?” she asks, already aware of your preferences. You nod with a smile, appreciative of how well the staff knew your routine. They have gotten to know you so well over the months that they’ve even memorized your orders depending on the day of the week. “Yes, please.”

As she walks away to relay your order to the coworkers behind the counter, you watch her figure become descending with each step. Your mind wanders as you pull out your phone and begin typing a message to your best friend, Wooyoung, who always enjoys hearing about your experiences at the café.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤWooyoung: Going to assume you haven’t seen Mr. Pretty Boy yet?

You recall the day Wooyoung had dubbed Seonghwa with the nickname. It was the first time Wooyoung had seen him when you tagged him along to the café, and you both watched Seonghwa step out from the back kitchen to temporarily take over his co-worker’s duties at the counter. He nudged your shoulder, looking at you with a teasing smile, saying, “Didn’t know you had a thing for pretty boys.”

Wooyoung's playful comment had taken you by surprise, but as you thought about it, you realized how true it was—Seonghwa was undeniably a pretty boy with his soft features, elegant demeanor, and long, smooth hair. With the way he carries himself, it wouldn’t take much for one to notice he takes self-care seriously.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: How am I supposed to know when I can’t even see the counter from where my seat is?

After sending the message, you look up, scanning the café once more in case Seonghwa was around. Realizing he wasn’t after looking around the place for about three times straight, you sigh and plop your elbow down on the table, placing your hand on your chin as you look to your left, busying yourself with watching people walk by, going by their different routines and plans for the day.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤWooyoung: How tragic. Must suck to be you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Wooyoung’s playful remark, already picturing the mischievous grin on his face as he typed the message. Sometimes, you find yourself questioning how you ended up being friends with someone who seems to enjoy teasing you so much.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: At least I’m

Before you could finish typing your response, your gaze drifts up from your phone to see the boy you’ve been hoping to see ever since you first stepped inside the café, eyes widening in realization when you see the direction he is headed to. Getting your nerves tangled with each other, you weren’t sure what to do, accidentally sending the unfinished response to Wooyoung.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤWooyoung: You’re what?

His apron was tightly knit on his back, accentuating his lean figure while his hair was tied neatly in a half bun, a few stray strands of his hair hanging off the sides of his face. He was as beautiful as ever. Your breath catches in your throat, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, and you quickly look down, pretending to focus on your phone even though you were literally just scrolling back and forth on the weather app.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: OhmygODWOO

“Here’s your order,” he offers you a polite smile, and his voice sounded as soft as the calm waves of the morning sea. He looks even more breathtaking up-close, you thought. You were quick to put your phone face down on the table, ignoring the notification of Wooyoung’s message you saw before turning it off.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤWooyoung: WHAT?

You look, feigning surprise as if you hadn’t noticed him until that moment. “Oh, thank you,” you reply, your words coming out rushed.

He politely nods while smiling, his eyes holding a hint of curiosity as he observed you—but you failed to notice it, as your eyes were fighting to look anywhere but at the boy standing right in front of your table. “Enjoy your meal,” he says before turning to walk away.

“Thank you, you too-” Fortunately, he was already a distance away when you spoke, and you thanked the heavens for not letting him hear you express your stupidity through words.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: YOU’RE SO NOT GONNA BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤI’M SO STUPID OH MY GOD.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤI’m gonna need you to bury me 6ft under, please.

The contrast between the three messages you sent within five seconds surprised you, whereas it made Wooyoung laugh from the other side of the screen.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤWooyoung: Now why are you letting all of your personalities take over at once?

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤJudging by the way you’re talking, I think this is something that requires a face-to-face discussion.

A few minutes later, Wooyoung was now sitting across the table, eating the cinnamon roll in his hands while listening to you ramble about what just happened before he arrived.

“-He told me to enjoy my meal, and I said, ‘Thanks, you too’! Like, I’m not even kidding! The only saving grace I had was the fact that he was already walking away when I muttered that out… But I can’t help but overthink that maybe he did hear it and just ignored me to save me from embarrassment, you know? I mean, come on,” you talk endlessly without taking a breath, careful not to speak too loud in case one of the employees, or worse, Seonghwa himself, were to walk by and overhear your conversation.

Wooyoung chokes after taking another bite of his cinnamon roll, covering his mouth with his hands so his loud laugh wouldn’t disturb the other customers. He disappears from your line of sight momentarily, head underneath the table as he struggled with containing his laughter. “Now you’re just overreacting. It’s really not that funny,” you deadpan, arms crossed as you looked at him, your annoyed face a huge contrast to his close-eyed smile.

“It is that funny!” Wooyoung sputters out in the middle of his laughs, hands on his stomach as he laid his head down on the table. Clearly, telling him about it was a very regrettable decision. You were certain he wasn’t going to let go of this anytime sooner. “God, no! It’s embarrassing! I was so nervous earlier I ended up pressing buttons on the weather app pretending I was on my phone, you know?” You sigh, taking a sip of your coffee that has now slightly gone cold.

Wooyoung finally stops laughing, sighing as he dramatically wipes a stray tear on the corner of his eye. “If I were him and I heard you say that, I would’ve been so weirded out I’d never think of leaving the back kitchen again,” he teases, earning a hard kick from your feet underneath the table.

“Ow!” Wooyoung grimaces, looking down to massage his leg that now had a sore spot, thanks to you. “Okay, now that was unnecessary,” he whines, glaring at you. “So is fueling up my embarrassment even further, but I can’t bring that up, can I?”

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry,” he grumbles under his breath, downing the last cinnamon roll on his plate. “I mean, I’m not, but I’ll let you hear what you want to hear since I’m such a good friend.”

“I wouldn’t call a boy who visits me during my working hours at the flower shop just to sweet-talk my grandmother into treating him to lunch while leaving her granddaughter all alone to handle the shop a good friend, but whatever you say,” you shrug, snickering after seeing the annoyed look on his face.

“Now you’re just twisting the story! Mind you, she’s the one who offers to treat me to lunch whenever I visit you, not the other way around…” Wooyoung whines once more, nearly making you laugh at his childish antics.

“You know, since she clearly cares for you more than she does for me, why not take over my shifts for the upcoming week? I could really use some rest,” you suggest, leaning forward as if forcing him to consider the idea. But Wooyoung only shoos you away, turning his head to the side while avoiding your gaze. “No can do, I’ve got dance lessons with Yeosang for the whole week. Schedule’s packed,” he deadpans, leaning his back against his seat.

“And you call yourself a good friend,” you jokingly sigh, shaking your head in disapproval. “You should totally join us sometime, though. I think you’ll like it there,” Wooyoung smiles at you, and the way it surprisingly looks genuine was what now had an eyebrow of yours arched. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that you’re really horrible at dancing and the heavens are begging for you to sneak dance lessons in your schedule.” Seeing the annoyed look on your face, Wooyoung huffs in triumph.

You stand up, slinging your bag on your shoulder while looking down at Wooyoung. “Don’t even dare to show up at the flower shop again starting from today,” you say, making a beeline to the doors without even looking back at Wooyoung, who was now scurrying over to catch up to you. “I was joking!”

Just as you opened the doors to step outside of the café, you nearly bump into a tall man who was heading inside. Looking back to apologize to the said person, you were met with the sight of Wooyoung briefly greeting the said man, making you wonder if they knew each other.

Wooyoung was struggling to find out whether he was supposed to push or pull, making you snicker as you yell from where you stood, “Catch up and I’ll forgive you!”

Two people from inside the cafe watch the scene unfold in amusement by the counter, one being an employee and the other being his friend who stopped by to visit. “Are your customers usually this chaotic?”

To which the man only laughs at, saying, “The girl is usually quiet when she comes here by herself, but whenever she tags her friend along with her, all hell always breaks loose.”

“You’ve got one hell of a job, Seonghwa.”

****

The flower shop is quiet in the evening, the only sounds to be heard being the faint sounds of your favorite song playing on your phone. Your grandmother had already headed home hours ago, and as Wooyoung said last weekend, his schedule for this week is entirely packed with dance lessons with Yeosang, which is why he can’t accompany you tonight, leaving you alone to tend to the shop for the rest of the night. It’s peaceful here, a sanctuary amid the day’s chaos, and you savor the tranquility as you wander through the aisles of blooming arrangements.

Closing time isn’t until 10 p.m., but it’s only 9 now, meaning you have some time to kill. The floral scents fill the air, each bouquet and arrangement contributing its own delicate fragrance. Half of them are your creations, while the others were lovingly crafted by your grandmother. You pause at the sight of a bouquet of gypsophila nestled at the very back of the shop, a recent addition, perhaps.

The sight of gypsophila brings back memories of your mother. Your grandmother once told you it had been her favorite flower, and her love for flowers was what pushed your grandmother into opening up this shop a year after her passing.

Your mother would always speak of how she wanted to build her own flower shop when she was young, a story that would never fail to bring tears to your eyes, despite the fact that you’ve been told of it multiple times already.

She had fallen ill when you were just seven years old, facing a battle with a disease that couldn’t be cured. Your financial situation had been tough, and your grandmother juggled multiple jobs to keep her daughter alive. Despite the hardships, your mother’s spirit remained bright, and she imparted her love of flowers to you. You remember her last words, spoken with tenderness.

“Continue my dream, my lily. Fill the world with the beauty of flowers, just like these. And remember, even when I’m not with you, my spirit will be there, like the soft touch of gypsophila in the air.”

Those words resonate deeply with you even up to this date, guiding your life choices and strengthening your passion for floristry. Your mother often compared you to a lily, symbolic of purity and beauty, and you hold on to that connection to her as you nurture the shop.

Your phone's notification ring echoes around the empty flower shop, pulling you away from your thoughts. You walk over to the counter and glance at the notification on your lock screen. It was a message from Wooyoung.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎���‎ㅤWooyoung: Dance lessons finished earlier than usual. Are you still at the flower shop? I'll be on my way if you are.

You check the wall clock above the counter. It was 9:24 p.m., giving you enough time to hang out with your best friend before you had to close the shop for the night. Looking back down at your phone, you quickly type out a response.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: Still here :)

After sending the message, you turn off your phone and let out a soft yawn. You couldn’t wait to get the day over with. Whenever Wooyoung stopped by the shop, he always brought your favorite food with him. It was an unspoken gesture that you always appreciated. Knowing he would arrive soon with food in hand, you return to your spot behind the counter and began tapping your finger lightly on the surface, patiently waiting for your friend to show up.

On the other side of the city was a boy who is in the same situation as yours. He was mopping the floor of the café, humming along with the song playing through the speakers when he heard the familiar jingle of the bells hanging above the door. He looks up with a smile as he saw who had entered.

“I thought your dance lessons usually end at 11 p.m.?” he asks, setting the mop aside for a moment. The boy sighs as he plops himself down on one of the café's couches. “They decided to call it a day earlier than usual. I’m not sure why, though,” he shrugs.

“You know what, Seonghwa? You should definitely tag along with me there sometimes,” he speaks up again, resting his elbow on the table with his chin in his palm.

Seonghwa chuckles. “Enough with that, Yunho. You know it’s been years since I last danced,” he says, lightly groaning as he stretches his back, which had been sore from mopping the floor for quite some time. His coworkers had already left, leaving him to finish up.

“That’s the point! You’re there to re-learn the basics, not to impress everyone with amazing dancing skills right off the bat,” Yunho replies matter-of-factly.

Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. “Still not interested. Plus, our café will be holding an event soon. My schedule will be even busier than usual—you know I can’t sneak dance lessons into my routine.”

Yunho perks up at the mention of an occasion. “An event? What’s it for?”

“Valentine's Day,” Seonghwa explains. “We’ll all have to work overtime starting next week to prepare the decorations for the shop. We’re facing a bit of a challenge, though.”

"Why? What's the problem?" Yunho tilts his head, curious. Seonghwa sighs again. “We need to decorate the shop with flowers, but we don't know where to buy them in bulk.” Yunho remains silent for a few seconds, but the moment he finally spoke up, he did so with enthusiasm. “And if I tell you that I know where you can find them?”

Seonghwa eyes Yunho suspiciously. “Something tells me there’s a catch to this offer.” Yunho raises his hands in defense, a wide-eyed look on his face. “What? No! No catch at all.”

“You’re not going to make me attend your dance lessons in exchange for you telling me where I can buy flowers for our café’s upcoming event, are you?” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, but Yunho only shook his head in response. “I wasn’t even thinking of anything! But, now that you mentioned it-”

“Don’t even dare.” Yunho raises his hands yet again, lips pursed as he nodded. “Got it, got it. How does giving me a 99% discount for everything I’ll purchase from your café for a whole week sound?” Yunho smiles, tilting his head as he leans closer, as if trying to convince Seonghwa to agree to his proposal.

“Saying you want a 99% discount is basically demanding to be given your orders with no charges,” was all Seonghwa said in response. “If you think about it, that’s kinda like the point.” Yunho shrugs. “So… are you in for it?”

Truth be told, covering for Yunho’s purchases does sound better than attending dance lessons Seonghwa was certain he really does not need. So, being left with no choice, all he could do was nod. “I hate how you always know how to play your cards right.”

Yunho grins in triumph, standing up. “You’ll always let yourself fall victim to it no matter what, anyway. That’s on you,” he looks at the wall clock of the café, noticing that it was now past 10 in the evening and Seonghwa’s shift was finally over.

“No I don’t-”

“-think you can get away with this!”

You were nearly out of breath, chasing Wooyoung in circles at the park nearby the flower shop. You’ve been doing this for about five minutes now, nearly forgetting the reason behind it in the first place.

When he first showed up in front of the shop’s transparent window doors with a box of donuts in his hand and a can of your favorite soda in the other, you were more than excited to let him in, a smile gracing both yours and his lips. You hung out inside as he sat on the surface of the counter, feet hanging off as they swung back and forth while he told you all about how his day went. It was how you both preferred to hang out, him doing all the talking while you sat back and listened attentively.

He loved being able to ramble on for hours on end, and you loved not having to talk as much, only having to listen quietly while throwing in short reactions in the middle of him telling stories every once in a while. You were both content with each other’s presence, and the atmosphere in the shop was nothing short of peaceful. It wasn’t until he absentmindedly reached for the last piece of donut inside the box, only realizing it was the one you loved the most the moment you gasped out of shock and the pastry was already far down his throat.

“I didn’t mean to! Cut me some slack, I can barely even feel my legs anymore!” Wooyoung yells, looking behind every now and then to check if the distance between both of you was growing wider or if you were drawing closer.

“Not until you say sorry!” you say in response. Wooyoung looks back once again, supposedly about to stop in his tracks and just allow you to catch up to him because he swears his legs will literally detach themselves from his body if he were to continue running for the next few seconds.

But he was met with the sight of an annoyed look on your face, and things took a turn for worse—for you, and for better—for him, as he pushes himself enough to quicken his pace even more. “Catch up and I’ll apologize!” he echoes your words from the day he chased you out of the café. The sound of him mischievously giggling while you struggled to match his pace made you even more annoyed, and at this point, you didn’t even want to catch up to him anymore. You just wanted to throw him off a cliff.

Suddenly, Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, making you do so as well. He was now facing you, catching his breath as he held his arms up in defeat. “Okay, okay! I give up-”

Wooyoung cut himself off, earning a confused glance from you as he looked behind you. “Hey, isn’t that your Mr. Pretty Boy over there? And that’s—Yunho?” he squinted, leaning his head forward. “Cut it out, Wooyoung. I’m not falling for your tricks,” you said, crossing your arms. “But I’m not! Look behind you!” he whisper-shouted, stealing a few glances at the two men behind you who were now inching closer as they walked side by side. “No way in hell-”

“Oh, Wooyoung?”

Looking behind to see who the person who just greeted your best friend was, you found yourself at a loss for words with your eyes comically widened over the sight you were met with.

It was Seonghwa, along with the man you almost bumped into earlier—the one Wooyoung greeted in the middle of struggling with opening the café’s doors.

You immediately turned your head back to Wooyoung, who was now looking at you with an ‘I told you so’ gaze. Your best friend’s attention was now taken away by the two men drawing closer to where you both stood.

As Seonghwa and Yunho approached, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of nervous energy coursing through you. You shifted slightly, feeling nervous. The last thing you expected was to cross paths with your crush in the middle of chasing your bestfriend for eating the last piece of donut you saved for last on purpose because it was your favorite.

Wooyoung and Yunho seem to have been talking about something, and you heard the words ‘dance lessons’ being thrown around here and there. You eventually figured out that Yunho goes to the same dance workshop Wooyoung attends, their brief interaction at the café last weekend now making perfect sense.

But you couldn’t find it in you to pay attention, their conversation going in one ear and out the other—not when the boy you’ve been crushing on hard for five months now was standing in the same space you were. The only thing you could focus on was trying to keep your composure and not make a fool out of yourself.

Yet all attempts to do so immediately crumbled down when he smiled briefly in your direction, catching you off guard. And for a moment, time seemed to slow as you locked eyes with him. His smile was warm, genuine, and it sent a flutter through your chest. You managed to return the smile, although you did so a bit awkwardly, before quickly averting your gaze, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

As the conversation between Yunho and Wooyoung continued, you found yourself stealing glances at Seonghwa whenever you thought he wasn't looking. There was something captivating about him, something that drew you in despite your efforts to remain composed.

He wasn’t clad in the uniform he usually wore for work—this was something you noticed soon after taking note of how pretty he looked with his hair down. He wore a white dress shirt with its first two buttons undone, layered with a sleeveless dirty white knitted sweater on top. His pants were loose and in the same color as the apron that came along his uniform—chestnut brown. To top it all off, he wore white converse shoes, perfectly completing his look.

And here you were, thinking he couldn’t look even more beautiful than he already does.

When it was time for Yunho and Wooyoung to part ways, Seonghwa looked at you once more, giving you a small, polite wave. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a surge of warmth through you. You hesitated for a moment before raising your hand to return the wave, a shy smile creeping up on your lips. As Seonghwa turned to walk away with Yunho, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing wash over you. The brief interaction had left you wanting more, craving the chance to get to know him better. But for now, all you could do was watch him go, still trying to process what on Earth just happened.

“You’re not slick,” Wooyoung snickering out of the blue dragged you out of your thoughts, and the first thing you see after snapping back to reality is your best friend wiggling his eyebrows while giving you a knowing look. “I saw that very, very clear, just so you know.”

“W-what?” Even though you knew what he was referring to, you couldn’t find it in you to come to terms with the fact that what happened was actually real and not just a fragment of your imagination—the living proof being Wooyoung and his teasing smile.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “You were looking at him like you were planning your wedding in your head! You were like,” he shifted, mimicking the way you were standing still with your hands intertwined in front of you, staring at him with stars in your eyes when he wasn’t looking, “and then when he waved at you, you were like,” he raised his hand, waving awkwardly with a shy smile on his face. “You couldn’t have been any more obvious!”

“I was not acting like that!” You placed your hand on your chest, a look of disbelief on your face. “Tell me you’re exaggerating right now. You’re lying, right? Like, I didn’t actually act like… that, right?”

“I’m not gonna tell you the false truth you wanna hear,” he said with a teasing grin, crossing his arms. “All you can do now is to hope he wasn’t being attentive earlier.”

“Oh God…” you sighed, dramatically crouching down on the ground with your hands covering your face. “This is the second time you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him, you know. Remember when he told you to enjoy your order and you said-”

“Just stop!”

****

As the clock struck past closing time, the atmosphere in the café shifted from lively to quiet as the last lingering customers bid their farewells and the staff began their post-closing routines. Chairs were stacked, floors were swept, and the air was filled with the anticipation of the impending meeting. An hour later, the café was transformed into a makeshift conference room, with the tables pushed together to form a large communal workspace. The employees, along with their manager, gathered around, ready to discuss their plans for the upcoming Valentine’s Day event.

"Alright, everyone," she began, her voice commanding attention as everyone fell silent. “Valentine’s Day is fast approaching—we only have a month left to prepare, and we need to ensure that our café is ready to enchant our customers with romance. I know some of you may be thinking preparations seem far too advanced, but I’d rather start working early on than to rush things and end up making us look like we aren’t capable of doing any better. Any ideas for what we can do in order to achieve our goal?”

“How about we switch things up and focus on creating a cozy atmosphere?” suggested one of the employees. “We could set up small seating areas with plush cushions and warm lighting, perfect for couples looking for a quiet spot to enjoy their coffee. Maybe even hang up fairy lights or something.”

“I like that idea! We could also offer special dessert pairings, like chocolate fondue or dessert platters,” another chimed in, their voice filled with excitement. “It’ll give our customers a chance to indulge in some sweet treats while they soak in the romantic ambiance.”

“We could also set up a photo booth corner with props and backdrops," one employee said, leaning forward as they began to explain their idea further. “It’ll give our customers a fun way to capture memories and share them on social media—which could also be a way to promote our café, if you catch my drift.”

“And to add a personal touch, why don’t we encourage customers to write notes to each other as the last part of the event?" another employee proposed. “We could provide stationery and pens, and then display the notes around the café. It’ll spread love and positivity throughout the space.”

“I’ll make sure to keep your ideas in mind. Now, as we discussed in our group chat last week,” the manager said, looking up from the notepad she wrote everyone’s ideas on, “we want to incorporate flowers into our décor to enhance the romantic atmosphere. Have any of you been able to find a supplier?”

With the sudden opening of the discussion regarding the manager’s idea to decorate the café with flowers, everyone fell silent—a clear indicator that the answer was clearly a no. Despite the manager’s earlier directive, no one had been successful in finding a supplier for the flowers they needed. Just as the manager was about to let out a disappointed sigh, their youngest employee, who hadn’t muttered out a single word so far, raised his hand, making everyone look towards where he sat.

“I, um, I have, but…” he wasn’t even finished talking yet, but a smile was already gracing the manager’s lips. “Is that so, Seonghwa? Tell us about it! We’re all ears,” she grinned, and the other employees glanced at him with a hopeful smile, as he was their only saving grace that could prevent their manager from firing them all.

“My friend told me about it a week ago, but he said I’d have to cover his expenses for everything he’ll be purchasing here for an entire week before he gives me the location. It’s only Wednesday today, so he won’t fulfill his end of the deal until Saturday…” he trailed off, giving his manager an apologetic smile. “Oh, why didn’t you say so sooner! Do you think it’s possible for him to give away the location now if you tell him his expenses will be covered by us—you as an exception, for the rest of the year?” she smiled, but Seonghwa’s eyes were quick to widen at the suggestion. “A-A whole year? I don’t think that’s…”

But one of his co-workers immediately agreed with their manager’s suggestion, not wanting to lose their job that paid them well enough to survive a day just yet. “Yeah! We’ll, uh… we’ll pay for all of his orders for as long as he wants!” they regretted saying those words as soon as it slipped out of their mouth, but they didn’t have it in them to take it back now.

“See? Even your co-workers agree. Now, why don’t you try ringing up this friend of yours?” Seonghwa believes the idea of paying for Yunho’s orders for an entire year sounds absolutely absurd, but he couldn’t bring himself to disagree when everyone gathered around the table was looking at him with hopeful gazes. Seonghwa’s phone rang for about a few seconds while everyone waited patiently, and after dialing Yunho for the third time, he finally answered the call. “Seonghwa? What’s up?”

He wasted no time in getting to the point, wanting everyone to take their eyes off of him as soon as possible. “Would you be willing to fulfill your end of the deal right now if I tell you all your purchases from the café will be covered by my manager and co-workers for the rest of the year?” Yunho went silent for a few seconds, as if trying to process Seonghwa’s proposal. “Okay, now, hold on—where is this coming from? Are you being held at gunpoint?” Technically, yes.

“What? No, just answer the question, please.”

“I’m starting to doubt if you really know me because first of all, why should you even be asking me that? You know I’ll never turn such a good offer down. I mean, a whole year? Come on, that’s like heaven on Earth!” With the positive response from Yunho, everyone let themselves loose, letting out a breath they had no idea they were holding.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Seonghwa replied. “I’ll text you the location. Does that sound good?” Yunho asked, and Seonghwa didn’t even take the time to respond, immediately hanging up on him. “The deal is sealed,” Seonghwa playfully saluted, as everyone started praising him for saving their jobs without even realizing it. “Great! Just forward the location to me once you receive it from him. You can all go home now,” she smiled at everyone, who stood up one by one, returning the chairs to their respective places, packing their things afterwards.

As Seonghwa made his way home, the weight of the day’s events hung heavy on his mind. The responsibility of securing the flower supplier for the café’s event had unexpectedly fallen on his shoulders, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing he had come through for his team. Lost in his thoughts, Seonghwa was startled when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a couple of notifications from Yunho.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYunho: The flower shop’s located at 1117 Paradigm Street.

The first message was the address Seonghwa had been eagerly waiting for. Upon reading the next messages Yunho sent within the same minute, a soft smile crept up on Seonghwa’s lips.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYunho: Dance lessons for the day will last way past 11. It’s by choice, though, so don’t worry.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤWanna stop by and wait for me? We can hang out at my apartment afterwards.

It had been a long day for Seonghwa, so the idea of spending time with his friend to unwind and release all the stress he had bottled up for the whole day brought him a sense of comfort.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤSeonghwa: Sure :)

Minutes later, he was now standing in front of the building where the dance lessons Yunho attends were held. He stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his dark brown coat, lightly shivering due to the cold air of the evening. The building had a sign that says “KQ Fellaz” atop the doors, the lights of the first letter slightly flickering. Tapping his foot on the ground, he looked around, patiently waiting for Yunho. Visitors were prohibited from entering the building alone, hence why he had to remain frozen where he stood until Yunho would fetch him.

The doors in front of him opened, revealing Yunho, who was nearly soaked in his own sweat. Do they not take breaks in the middle of their lessons? “You’re a little earlier than I expected,” he managed to let out, although he did so with huffs in between. Clearly, he was still trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus, are you alright? You look like you just ran five laps in a row,” Seonghwa chuckled, not used to seeing Yunho in such a state because he’s the one who’d always visit Seonghwa at the café after his dance lessons, and not the other way around. “Think of it as having to interact with customers by the counter continuously for a whole day,” he shrugged. “Oh. It’s that bad, huh?” Seonghwa replied, to which Yunho only sighed. “See? Now you get me.”

Stepping aside to let Seonghwa in, Yunho closed the doors behind both of them once Seonghwa had entered the building. “So…”

“So?” Seonghwa tilted his head, taking his hands out of his pockets to put his hair up with the tie on his wrist. “Were you being for real earlier? Like, you know, the whole thing about covering for my purchases for a whole year?”

“You heard it loud and clear earlier already, Yunho. My manager was dead serious—she doesn’t play around when it comes to her business, so I guess it makes perfect sense for her to just air out such a proposal so casually just so you’d give me the location of the flower shop you were talking about a few days ago.” Seonghwa shrugged, the sound of his and Yunho’s footsteps echoing through the empty hall of the building.

The atmosphere surrounding them was peaceful, yet the building’s practice room, which was now only a few steps away from where they were at, was the complete opposite. Even from a fair distance away, they could hear the distinct yelling and laughter from inside the room.

“What?! What do you mean ‘Modern Seoul Gracias’? What are you even talking about?!” Wooyoung yelled, not even being able to hear his own voice regardless of how loud it was due to the song playing through the headphones he was wearing that Yeosang set on full volume.

“No, no! Pay attention, you dummy! This is a place people often visit during weekends!” you yelled back even louder, saying each word slowly so Wooyoung could read your lips. From behind him, Yeosang held up a piece of paper with the words ‘amusement park’ written on it. You and Wooyoung had been stuck on this round for a while now, and what’s worse is he had to guess 5 words within 5 minutes—you only had a minute left.

“My… what? What does that even mean?! What on Earth is the keyword for you to be describing it like that?!” The look of frustration on both your faces was evident, making Yeosang burst into a fit of laughter.

Your grandmother decided to let you off your duties for the day, hence why you decided to tag along with Wooyoung on his dance lessons. Fortunately for you, a few familiar faces other than your best friend’s were around, namely Yeosang and the guy named Yunho who happens to be a mutual friend of Wooyoung and Seonghwa, making you feel a little less awkward inside the crowded space.

The field wasn’t really something of your expertise, so all you did for the day was record their practice performances for them and head in and out every now and then to buy them some snacks so you could at least offer a little bit of help. The rest left the building earlier at 10 in the evening already, but Wooyoung, Yunho, and Yeosang chose to stay overtime—you don’t know why, but you promised Wooyoung you’ll spend the whole day with him today to make up for not being able to hang out with him for a short while, so you had no choice but to stay longer as well.

At first, the three of them were just practicing some of their choreographies while you sat on the floor at the very back as you browsed the internet, but one thing led to another, and Wooyoung ended up suggesting the idea of playing the infamous Whisper Game. He, of course, chose to pair up with you, while the opposing team consisted of Yunho and Yeosang.

Yunho and Yeosang were kind enough to let you and Wooyoung play first, but their willingness to step down and offer a gesture of kindness has been proved to be completely useless, seeing how your team has barely even made any progress. “Pass, pass! I can’t do this one anymore!” he yelled, stomping his foot on the ground twice in frustration. “We’re not allowed to pass! You proposed that rule earlier before we started playing, remember?” Wooyoung, however, thought you were still trying to describe your given keyword to him, making him shake his head quickly with his brows furrowed.

“Get it over with! I can’t-”

The door swung open all of a sudden, and even though neither you or Wooyoung heard it, the door was near enough where you were for you to be able to see it in your peripheral vision. However, what you weren’t expecting was your eyes to lay upon Yunho with another person trailing behind him.

The world—for you, at least, came to a stop, and suddenly, the loud music from the headphones you wore no longer rang in your ears. You found yourself in a temporary state of shock, the day seeming to have done a 180 out of nowhere. Behind him was none other than Seonghwa, and God did he look even more ethereal than you can last recall.

The long coat he wore was shrugged off his shoulders, revealing the fitted black turtleneck he wore underneath. His pants were of the same color, and the reflection of the lights on the practice room’s roof shone perfectly on his shoes.

“You still haven’t gone past that word?” Yunho said, though it was more of a statement than a question—the answer was already laid out in front of him, anyway. Yeosang knew both you and Wooyoung couldn’t hear him, so he took it upon himself to speak on your behalf. “I’d say it’s Wooyoung’s fault. He’s been reading her lips incorrectly the whole time,” he said, laughing afterwards.

“By the way, time’s up! Congratulations for scoring zero points,” he followed, taking off Wooyoung’s headphones for him, while you remained in a trance, blanked out while staring into the depths of nowhere. Wooyoung stood up, walking towards you while waving his hands in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to my best friend?” he said, having to repeat it a couple more times before he got tired and straight up flicked your forehead, making you flinch as you hurriedly took the headphones off your head, hanging them on your neck. “Ow! What the hell?!”

“Game’s over! We scored zero points,” he said casually, as if the prize on the line for the winners wasn’t a whole pack of what just happened to be your favorite food. Soon enough, a frown has already made its way to your face. Being all too familiar with the expression you held, Wooyoung was quick to throw his hands up in the air, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, okay?! I genuinely had no idea what you were saying!

“Then maybe you should’ve considered suggesting a different game—one you aren’t absolutely horrible at.” Yunho and Yeosang watched in amusement, while Seonghwa remained curious, trying to figure out whether you two were actually arguing or if this is simply how your friendship goes.

“Do they normally…?”

“Yeah.”

Meanwhile, Wooyoung was still trying to find a way to receive your forgiveness. “I’ll just stop by the convenience store near my apartment and I’ll buy you a whole pack—two, even! Just forgive me and don’t get rid of my free food privileges at your grandmother’s shop!”

“No can do, Woo. You promised me you’d win the prize for us! That’s so, so different from buying it from some convenience store down the street, you know?” Wooyoung knew you were just messing around, yet he failed to notice you were doing it on purpose to get him to play the game all over again just so you didn’t have to head home early and miss the opportunity to be in the same space as Seonghwa.

“Okay, look, I’ll just,” Wooyoung turned around, facing the three men who were watching you two bicker just now, locking his eyes with Seonghwa, who stared back at him with brows slightly raised in curiosity. “Seonghwa, right? Do you know how to play the Whisper Game?”

What?

“Me? Oh, yeah, I’m pretty decent at it, I guess,” he responded, nodding. You, however, watched the scene unfold with widened eyes. Your plan did work, but at what cost? Was Wooyoung going to ask him to-

“Can you take my place for tonight? I mean, if you haven’t already noticed from my bestfriend’s glares, I’m really, really terrible at it, and clearly, she values the prize more than she does with me,” he explained, making Seonghwa chuckle lightly at the last part. You, however, were quick to interject with Wooyoung’s idea, knowing there was no way you’d be able to focus on the goal of winning if Seonghwa were to be your partner for the game. “What? No, that’s… that’s not necessary. Woo, we could just try again-”

“Sure thing,” Seonghwa slid between your words with a soft smile on his face, immediately shutting you up. Even though Wooyoung was facing away from you, you could still feel the sinister smile on his face begging to be released.

Wooyoung took the headphones off his neck, giving it to Seonghwa as he stepped aside so he could sit down on the chair facing you from a fair distance across the room. Trying your best not to melt down to the ground right there and then, you held back the urge to glare daggers right into where Wooyoung was standing, replacing it with a sarcastic smile instead, making your bestfriend lightly flinch—he was not going to get away with this.

“Are you ready?” Seonghwa asked, looking at your face to search for any signs of discomfort as he patiently waited for your response while holding a soft grip on the headphones hanging off his neck. It was most likely due to the fact that you always have your heart-shaped glasses on whenever he’s in the same space as you are—you were well aware of that, but part of you hopes you weren’t just being delusional over thinking his voice softening ever so slightly when he spoke to you was intentional.

“Yeah, um, I’m good,” you slipped a small chuckle in the middle of your words, the sound of it coming off awkward being completely unintentional—to be fair, anyone would be nervous as well if they were to be put in your shoes, so who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened with other people?

“Why don’t we switch it up this time? I’ll give Seonghwa the keyword instead,” Yeosang chimed in, walking around the room to stand behind where you sat. “Is that alright with you guys?” To which you all agreed.

There was never any specific category you all agreed to follow before playing, so Yeosang let his mind wander as freely as possible while thinking of a word to scribble on the blank paper he held in his hands. Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa watched him in both curiosity and anticipation as he started writing on the paper, while all you could do was stare down on the ground and fiddle with the hem of your sweater. It’s not like you could look behind you, anyway, and neither do you have enough courage to stare right into Seonghwa’s eyes.

“Okay, here we go,” Yeosang announced, holding the paper up for everyone except you to see. The word, scribbled in Yeosang’s handwriting, was “The Gingerbread Man.”

Wooyoung's jaw dropped, crouching down while the sounds of his hysterical laughter and his claps echoed all over the room. “No way!” Yunho chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “This is going to be one hell of a round,” he said, his laughter joining Wooyoung’s in a chorus of amusement.

Seonghwa, however, had his eyes widened in disbelief as he scanned the word. “You’ve… got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, running his hands through his hair. “How on Earth am I going to describe this?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His brow furrowed in concentration, trying to come up with a plan.

“Hey, it’s a word that’s pretty easy to guess,” Yunho offered him some encouragement, patting him on his shoulder, “it’s just hard to describe. Well, not really, but you get what I mean.”

Meanwhile, you watched the scene unfold with growing nerves, your heart pounding in your chest as you anticipated what was to come. You weren’t sure how to feel about the variety of reactions. From Seonghwa’s reaction alone, you could already tell the word given to him was a difficult one. As he began to describe the word, you quickly realized just how difficult this was going to be. Seonghwa stumbled over his words, struggling to find a way to explain the complex term without making it too easy or too hard. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to come up with the perfect description.

“It’s like... something you often see during Christmas,” Seonghwa started, his voice hesitant as he searched for the right words. He glanced at you briefly, his eyes filled with uncertainty, before continuing with his description. “A see-through crisis… What?” you replied, brows furrowed in confusion while you tried to read his lips. “No, no! It’s often seen during Christmas,” he repeated, this time speaking more slowly than before. “It’s, like… ah, how do I…” he sighed, staring above the ceiling while trying to come up with an effective description.

Wooyoung couldn’t contain his laughter, rolling on the ground as he clutched his stomach. “This is gold!” he exclaimed between breaths, his laughter echoing through the room. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, struggling to catch his breath as he continued to laugh uncontrollably.

“A see-through crisis? What does that even mean?” Yunho said, his laughter contagious as he joined Wooyoung down on the floor. He placed his hands down on the surface for support, his laughter mingling with Wooyoung’s as they both struggled to catch their breaths. Seonghwa sighed in frustration as he struggled to find the right words. “I have no idea how to describe this,” he admitted, his voice tinged with defeat. But even his frustration couldn’t dampen the mood, and soon enough, everyone was laughing along with him.

“No, no, come on, you’ve got this! Just come up with whatever you can, and I’ll try my best to make a word out of it!”

Maybe it was because you were getting too lost in the moment, or perhaps it was because you really wanted to win the prize. Eitherway, you failed to notice the fact that you were no longer acting so awkward and bashful around Seonghwa like you usually would.

Wooyoung didn’t, though. And maybe that’s why he was no longer laughing, instead just focused on both you and Seonghwa trying your best to guess the keyword correctly with amusement filling his eyes, grinning while doing so—he was definitely never going to let you hear the end of it after this.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, determined to give it one more shot. “Okay, let’s try this again,” he said, his voice more determined this time. He squared his shoulders, steeling himself for the challenge ahead as he prepared to make one final attempt.

“He’s leaning forward now!” Yeosang pointed out, slapping his knees while laughing. “He’s like those dads leaning forward with their elbows on their knees the moment the basketball game they’re watching on the television comes near the final stretch,” Yunho followed his commentary, leaning to the side after Wooyoung slapped his shoulder playfully over his remark.

“Okay, okay, it’s like... it’s edible, and it can be made through baking. Edible, can be baked.” Seonghwa's brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to articulate his thoughts, but his vague descriptions only left you more confused. “Edited by a candidate…?” you whispered, turning to the others for help. But their faces only mirrored your confusion, refusing to lend you a hand, leaving you feeling even more lost.

Yunho chuckled, shaking his head. “I think he’s just as lost as she is,” he joked, earning a laugh from Wooyoung and Yeosang. Seonghwa sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regroup. “Okay, okay, let me try again. He’s a little guy who’s edible.” he tried, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words.

But as you tried to decipher his words, you found yourself completely off track, misinterpreting his descriptions in the most absurd ways possible. “A little time for enigma?” you guessed, earning a round of laughter from the others. Seonghwa blinked in confusion, his lips quirking up in a small smile despite his frustration. “Uh, no, that’s not quite it,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

As the game progressed, Seonghwa's descriptions became more refined, each one inching closer to helping you unravel the mystery of the keyword. With each new attempt, you found yourself getting closer to understanding, the pieces slowly falling into place.

"It's like, okay, it’s edible, often seen during Christmas, and takes up the form of a little guy,” Seonghwa’s voice was more confident now, his eyes alight with determination as he tried to guide you towards the answer. Well, realistically speaking, he’s only been giving you the same description for the whole time—the only thing that differs each of them from one another being the arrangement of words. You furrowed your brows, mulling over his words carefully. “Christmas, edible, little guy…” you murmured to yourself, trying to make sense of it all.

And then, it clicked.

“Oh my God. Please don’t tell me it’s The Gingerbread Man,” you deadpan. Seonghwa’s eyes lit up with joy, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Yes! That’s it!” he cheered, his voice filled with pride as he nodded enthusiastically. With a rush of adrenaline, you tore off your headphones and stood up, turning around to see Yeosang holding up the paper with the word “The Gingerbread Man” written on it. The sight only fueled your excitement further, and you couldn’t help but let out a triumphant laugh.

“Whoa, they actually got it!” Wooyoung exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief as he exchanged stunned looks with Yunho and Yeosang. The room erupted into cheers and applause, everyone celebrating the unexpected victory. As the cheers and laughter filled the room, Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled with joy. Caught up in the excitement of victory, he turned to you with a beaming smile, his hand raised for a congratulatory high five.

Without a second thought, you mirrored his gesture, reaching out to meet his hand with yours. But as you were too lost in the moment, already thinking of eating the prize once you get home, your fingers intertwined with his, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Seonghwa’s expression softened, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes at the unexpected connection. Yet, instead of pulling away, he gently tightened his grip, intertwining his fingers with yours. Seeing others happy had always been his personal source of joy.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as you both stood there, excitedly shaking both your hands while they remained within one another’s grasp. It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of Wooyoung’s teasing glance in the blurry background of your vision.

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you finally became aware of the intimate gesture, wasting no time to let his hands go. But before you could muster a response, Seonghwa's smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. “Great job! I didn’t think you’d actually get it, since, I was, like, really bad at coming up with descriptions, you know,” Seonghwa chuckled, rubbing his nape sheepishly.

“What? No, I, it was probably on me—I mean, I literally misread your lips so many times. Great, now I feel bad for yelling at Wooyoung when he made the exact same mistake earlier…” you trailed off as your gaze found its way to your best friend, who was still looking at you and Seonghwa teasingly, this time with both his eyebrows wriggling.

Seonghwa laughed, the sound echoing in your ears, leaving you in a trance for a fleeting moment. How come even his laugh is so beautiful? At this point, you were certain the heavens above took their time with him.

You and Seonghwa looked around, noticing that Wooyoung and Yunho were now the ones seated on the chairs facing each other. It seems like their turn to play the game has finally arrived, and instead of a word, they had to guess a proverb.

As you both turned your gaze to Yeosang who was standing behind Yunho, you waited in anticipation for what he was going to write—bursting in a fit of laughter the moment he held the paper up, the words “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” written on it. Normally, it would be easy to describe it for anyone else, but you knew your best friend well enough to be sure he was not going to be able to describe it correctly to Yunho. This time, you both chose to let them have a moment of their own, being kind enough not to distract them unlike how they did with you earlier.

“You know, I was supposed to ask you this question earlier, but I was unexpectedly caught up in the whirlwind of your game, so I couldn’t…” Seonghwa spoke up all of a sudden, leaving you hanging off his words in curiosity. “Oh? What is it?”

“I might be mistaken, but… you’re the girl my co-workers claim as our café’s most loyal customer, right?” he asked, head tilting to the side slightly as a strand of his long hair got carried along, framing the middle of his face. God, must he really have a face people would go to war for?

Your eyes widened slightly at the mention of the nickname, finding it unexpected. “That’s what they call me?” you asked, a smile finding its way to your lips, with Seonghwa mirroring it with one of his own after hearing your answer. “Oh, so it is you.”

“Anyway, to answer your question, it’s a yes. My duty lies in the back kitchen, so I’m not really updated on who visits our café the most and who doesn’t, but they talk about you a lot, especially during the after-hours of work,” he replied.

“Oh, really?”

You weren’t exactly good at everything, and there’s a fair amount of things you were absolutely horrible at. If you were to be asked to list them all down, lying would definitely hog the first spot. Not only did your attempt to sound like you had no idea he works in the back kitchen as if you haven’t had your eyes on him for months on end now come off as you only pretending to be interested, your blank facial expression—which, in your defense, is an attempt to act clueless of the “newfound” knowledge beforehand, also ended up not being able to offer any help.

Afraid to rub off the wrong impression on Seonghwa, you were quick to steer away and focus on another thing that’s remotely related to the topic at hand. Opting to start talking about the café itself instead and neither the workers nor the customers, you picked back up on your words, the sound of Wooyoung’s laughter blending in the background.

“You know, the reason why I visit the café often is because it’s only a few steps away from my apartment. Not only that, everything you guys offer in the menu just never seems to miss, too,” you smiled, searching his gaze for any signs of whether you had successfully driven his attention away from your terrible response earlier or not. Seeing the way his eyes started to look like they were sparkling, you sneakily let out a breath of relief. “Really? That must be nice… There aren’t really any cafés near where I live—in fact, the one where I’m working is the closest a café can get for me,” Seonghwa jokingly put on an angry expression, making you laugh.

He didn’t have to know you did so not because he looked funny, yet rather because you found it adorable how the front of his eyebrows had risen ever so slightly with his cheeks puffed along with his nose scrunching.

“But you don’t really have to live near a café when you already work at one, don’t you? Makes me wonder if you’ve ever taken wrong orders with you on your way home,” you teased, although a bit hesitant—afraid he’d get the wrong impression and assume you were being passive aggressive somehow. Much to your fortune, he laughed at your comment, holding up both his hands in the air. “Guilty as charged,” he joked, playing along with your antics.

Mulling over the topic at hand, a question suddenly appeared in your mind. And as if Seonghwa noticed it immediately with the way your eyes widened ever so slightly, he tilted his head to the side, asking, “Something on your mind?”

“Were there ever times you got your customers’ orders wrong on purpose just so you could indirectly make yourself a drink without having to pay for it?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound like you were making accusations. Yet, to your surprise, you were met with the sight of Seonghwa in a state of disbelief. “How’d you know?” he said, making you mirror his expression. “No way! You’ve actually done it before?”

“Done it before? Please, I do it all the time,” he said with a smug look on his face, yet was quick to take it back, “I mean, well, I mean, not all the time, because, like, that’s kind of evil, you know, but like-” Seonghwa gave up in explaining himself, putting his hands up in defeat once more. “Okay, fine, maybe I do. But in my defense-”

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”

The sound of Wooyoung chanting like his life depends on it and proceeding to throw away his chair across the other side of the room along with Yunho yelling in victory cut your conversation short, both you and Seonghwa immediately turning your heads to Yeosang, who looked at you with an expression just as bewildered as yours.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know either,” he mouthed, letting out a sound of surprise when Wooyoung and Yunho suddenly lifted him up and started throwing him in the air back and forth. Exchanging concerned glances with Seonghwa, both of you were certain that from this point onwards, it was going to take you two a lot more time to calm your bestfriends’ energies down. Can the night take any longer to go away?

****

You were shocked, to say the least.

Well, in much more… realistic terms, it’d be better to use the term ‘annoyed’. It all started earlier in the morning, when your grandmother called you just when you were about to take a 5 minute nap after your alarm woke you up, telling you that you were going to have to work overtime for the following weeks. It would’ve been the trigger for your sour mood long ago, but at this point, you were already used to being greeted by such announcements.

You were certain it was most likely because she was planning on taking a break from work and letting you handle everything for a while as she gets her well-deserved rest, so you didn’t really mind it at first, immediately telling her “alright, got it,” before she could even finish speaking.

What you weren’t expecting was the bomb she had dropped down on you just now as you both indulge in a conversation regarding your work by the counter.

“You mean I need to make how much of what in how many days because it’s due when exactly?” you bombarded her with questions, leaning forward from outside the counter as you rested your shoulders on its surface while staring at your grandmother who stood inside the counter in disbelief, your expression growing more frustrated after each inquiry spoken. Great—just when you thought the gods will be nice enough to grant you a peaceful week for once.

Your grandmother held your hand laying down on the surface, looking at you with an apologetic gaze. “I’m sorry, dear, but I really wasn’t expecting it either. She only came in last night during your rest day and told me everything about what she wanted to happen and wanted us to do a minute before the shop was supposed to close, and she seemed to have been in a rush just as I was to close the shop. It seemed like it’s an urgent matter, so I couldn’t turn her down…”

Snapping back to reality and realizing that perhaps you were being a little too dramatic, you were quick to shake your head, placing your other hand down on hers. “No, no, grandma, I’m not upset at you, you don’t have to apologize. It’s just… who exactly is this person, and why did they only visit our shop now that the deadline for whatever they need our services for is nearing and not when they could’ve done so in advance?”

Your grandmother furrowed her brows, a puzzled expression crossing her face as she tried to recall the details of her conversation with the manager from the previous night. "Hmm, let me think... She mentioned something about being the manager of a café, but I'm afraid I can't quite remember the name of the place. My memory's not what it used to be, you know.”

With the mention of a café, your mind instinctively drifted off to Seonghwa—perhaps it was because you haven’t seen him for quite a while now.

For the past few weeks, you couldn’t exactly say you were in a good state. The reason why your grandmother has been taking care of the shop all by herself lately is because she refuses to let you work—not when you were severely ill. Each day felt longer to you than it usually would, as the only things that have been keeping you entertained within the confines of your apartment were your phone and Wooyoung himself.

Not a day during the time you were sick felt enjoyable to you, especially since Wooyoung was the one who had been taking care of you through it all. Sure, you appreciate the gesture more than he believes, but you couldn’t exactly say his countless amounts of teasing you for being ‘born with a respiratory system that wouldn’t survive a horror house’ weren’t annoying. It didn’t help that you couldn’t see Seonghwa for three weeks straight, either. Ever since you got sick, all you could think of was every interaction that happened between both of you that night when you chose to accompany Wooyoung with his dance lessons. You couldn’t get him off your mind.

From the way his brows were furrowed ever so slightly while trying to describe the keyword given to him to you, to the way his hands squeezed yours for about two times at most when you were both celebrating your victory—all of it.

Snapping back to reality after hearing the shop’s door open, you were quick to compose yourself and greet the customer who came in, before turning your attention back to your grandmother. “That’s okay, Grandma. Do you remember anything else she said?”

Your grandmother tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the ceiling as she searched her memory. “Well, she barely gave me a chance to ask any questions before she started laying out her plans for the Valentine’s Day event they’re hosting. Apparently, they want to go all out with the decorations this year, and she thought our shop would be the perfect fit to sponsor the flowers.”

“And did she mention anything about why she waited until the eleventh hour to ask for our help?” you asked, both your curiosity and annoyance getting the better of you. Your grandmother frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. “Not really,” she admitted. “She was so focused on getting everything organized that she didn’t offer much in the way of explanation. But I got the sense that she’s under a lot of pressure to make their event a success.”

You sighed, massaging your temple. You had just recovered from your illness, yet it already feels like it’s crawling its way back to your senses. “Alright, um…” you trailed off, trying to think of how to proceed with the situation at hand.

Suddenly, your grandmother’s face brightened as a memory surfaced in her mind. “Ah, I almost forgot! She did leave me something before she rushed out.” With a sense of urgency, she rummaged through a drawer under the counter, finally pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She smoothed it out carefully before placing it on the counter for you to see. “This is what she left me,” she explained, pointing to the phone number scrawled on the paper. “She said she was in a hurry and couldn’t specify which café she manages or where the event would be held. So, she asked me to call her today so we could discuss the details properly.”

“Huh…” you hummed, lost in thought as you looked at what was written on the crumpled paper. “Well, why don’t we call her now? The sooner we start, the sooner we can get this whole thing over with.”

“No, no, I’ll do it myself, dear. I’ll just let you know of all the details later. For the meantime, help out that customer over there,” she said, pointing to a man with split-dyed hair wearing a black leather jacket who was scanning the rows and columns of various bouquets sprawled out in front of him, “he looks like he needs a little assistance.”

You smiled, pushing yourself off the counter. “Got it,” you said, playfully saluting before heading towards the aforementioned man at the corner of the shop. “Would you like some assistance, sir?” you asked politely to grab his attention as he turned his head behind to look at you. “Oh, uh, yeah… Do you have any suggestions on which bouquet in this section would be best to give to my girlfriend for Valentine’s Day? They all look beautiful, but I don’t know which one to choose…”

Ah, that’s right.

Valentine’s Day, the sweet old event held annually every February 14th you never had a chance to participate in. With all the heavy workload and life burdens you’ve been carrying on your shoulder lately, you didn’t even realize the said day was fast approaching. Just a day ago, when you were taking a stroll around the city, couples were all over the place—not too much of a rare occurrence, yet it was strange all the same—you thought you were going crazy and were just seeing different versions of the same couple everywhere. Now, it makes perfect sense.

You wonder if Seonghwa has a date planned with someone for Valentine’s day, too. It would be funny if he were to suddenly enter the flower shop asking you the same question Mr. Cruella De Vil had asked just now—the humorous effect of it would definitely wear off later in the evening if it were to actually happen and you’ll most likely end up curled up in your blanket with tears in your eyes, but hey, it would definitely be a fun story to tell Wooyoung about.

“Well, let’s see…” you trailed off, scanning the bouquet flowers presented in front of you. “I think it would be pretty basic if you were to just pick one of these. I mean, think about it. What are the odds that another girl or guy out there already has this in their room?” you said, pointing to some random bouquet.

“Like, 7.5/10?” the man answered, his face looking as if he was actually thinking your little subtle marketing strategy through. “Exactly. That’s more than 5, which means you definitely shouldn’t be opting for any bouquets displayed here in this aisle.”

“Don’t you think it’d be better if you, perhaps,” you spread your arm to gesture to the little synthetic decorations of varying flowers by the counter, “search up different flowers and their meanings and choose the ones with a description that matches your partner’s vibe the most? And then onward, I’ll take care of the rest and make sure I’ll be able to compile them and turn them into a beautiful bouquet as soon as possible.”

He seemed to have been lost in thought for at least a few seconds, making you second-guess whether you were promoting your business correctly or if all you were actually doing was blowing his socks off out of pure fear, yet all your worries fell silent the moment a smile started to form itself on the corners of his lips, “I’d like that. That sounds like something she would definitely appreciate.”

****

The wall clock on top of the counter has once again hit the after-hours of work. The bells hung on top of the café’s doors keep clashing with each other each moment another fellow employee of Seonghwa calls it a day and heads out, their need for a rest as clear as day with the way their voices would sound as if they’ve just finished carrying the weight of the whole world on their shoulders. Face buried in his palms with his hair all disheveled, Seonghwa left the counter and dragged his feet against his will to one of the couches, laying on his back on its soft surface, initiating eye contact with the warm fairy lights hung by the ceiling.

He found himself lost in thought, trying to decipher why exactly the past few days have felt so flavorless and dull for him. He doesn’t even know when or how it started—one minute, he was just playing video games on Yunho’s PC, then the next thing he knew was suddenly he needed a thousand years of rest, away from everything. He knows it’s normal for people to feel down out of nowhere for no reason at all, but it wasn’t the same case for him, not when he doesn’t usually find himself struggling with such a feeling. Out of all the times he could’ve felt it, like when he once had to balance 4 jobs at once just so he wouldn’t find his things in a trash bag outside his door with a note from his landlord way before he started working at the café, why now?

“Seonghwa? Why are you still here?”

The familiar voice of his manager woke him up from his daydream, making him immediately sit up straight. “Oh, uh, they said I was on duty for closing up the café tonight…” a lie. “But they told me you haven’t gone home yet, so I thought of waiting for you to leave before I’d start cleaning up,” another lie. “I was just laying down because I figured I should charge up my energy before working on tonight’s duties,” why is he lying when it isn’t even necessary at all?

“Is that so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as if she’s not buying his excuses—well, to be fair, who in their right mind would? “You know you can just tell me you’re tired, Seonghwa. Admitting to that wouldn’t be a crime at all,” she gave him a reassuring smile, walking towards the couch from across the one Seonghwa was sitting on, placing her phone down on the table in between them. “I mean, I don’t even know what to call what I’ve been feeling for the past few days,” Seonghwa sighed, shrugging as he leaned back against the couch. “When did it start?” his manager asked, as if trying to help him out with piecing two and two together.

“That’s… I honestly don’t know either. All I know is I feel like everything has been so dull and gloomy lately, like something in my life I never knew existed has disappeared behind the scenes,” he said, stopping in between a few parts as if he’s not sure if what he’s saying even makes sense. “Well, uh,” she pondered, tapping her index finger on her cheek while her eyes examined the roof absentmindedly, “I don’t know much about you and what goes on in your life, so forgive me if this is a ridiculous theory, but.. perhaps what you’ve been feeling lately is caused by a person?”

“A person?” Seonghwa echoed her words, as if even he himself is unsure if a person is actually capable of making him feel strange emotions–without him noticing until the effects of it have finally taken place, too, if anything. “I’m not sure, I… don’t know how that could happen.” His manager was quick to wave her arms off in front of him, retracting her theory. “Well, I’m not sure! After all, it’s just a theory. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. I’m only throwing that assumption out there because I know that feeling very well, but hey, things are different for each of us,” she smiled, attempting to drive him away from stressing himself out further.

“Yeah, yeah, I agree. Let’s just… maybe not talk about it for now?” Seonghwa politely requested, to which she happily followed. “Of course! Which reminds me, I forgot to tell you about this earlier in the morning, but I went to that flower shop your friend recommended yesterday.” “How’d it go?”

“Well,” she clasped her hands together, smiling so wide Seonghwa swore the distance between her eyes and the corners of her lips was little to none, “I’ve got it sorted out! I may or may not have felt really bad after leaving the shop, though…” she trailed off, frowning. “Why?”

“I thought the owner would be a pretty girl around our age because well, you know, every girl dreams of opening up a flower shop at some point in their lives, or a sassy bald man with glasses who dresses like Edna from The Incredibles, but it was neither.” Seonghwa tilted his head, “What was the owner like, then?” “A sweet old lady who looked like she wanted to turn me down yet didn’t do so because she probably has a heart of gold and I’m pretty sure it’s also because I gave off the impression that I might just die then and there if she didn’t accept my proposal,” she said.

“Oh, really?” Seonghwa looked genuinely surprised. “I’m sure Yunho wouldn’t have thought of recommending that shop to us at all if that was the case, though… Maybe she has someone who’s helping her out? Like, a grandchild of hers or something?”

“I don’t know, I was in too much of a rush when I went there so the thought didn’t really cross my mind. I really hope that’s the case,” she sighed, looking over to her phone on the table. “I’m still waiting for her to ring me up, though. I told her to call me yesterday, but I haven’t received anything at all.”

“Maybe she’s taking her time thinking about it? It’s a pretty huge proposal, anyway,” Seonghwa guessed. “Yeah, maybe that’s it. I’m hoping she’ll dial my number by tonight, though… Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, and I really can’t afford having any last-minute issues with our plans-”

The manager’s phone suddenly rang, cutting her and Seonghwa’s conversation short. She quickly picked it up, glancing at the screen. “Oh, it’s the flower shop! Talk about perfect timing,” she smiled, tapping the answer button as she set the phone call on speaker so Seonghwa could listen in on the conversation as well. “Hello? This is the manager of the café you visited yesterday.”

“Good evening, dear! Apologies for the delayed call, I’ve been pretty busy here,” your grandmother’s voice came through clearly, her tone both polite and professional. “I just wanted to discuss the details of your request for the Valentine’s Day event, if that’s alright with you?”

“Ah, yes! Thank you so much for getting back to me,” the manager said, her tone as bright as day. “I’m really excited about this collaboration. We want to go all out for this event and make it really special for our customers.”

“Of course, I understand. Could you remind me of the name of your café again? I want to make sure I have all the details right,” your grandmother asked. The manager hesitated for a moment, “Actually, I didn’t get the chance to tell you yesterday, my apologies. The café is called ‘Heavenly Brews’. We’re located just a few blocks away from your shop.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for letting me know. Now, regarding the flower decorations, could you tell me more about what exactly you’re looking for?” your grandmother asked, pulling out a notepad to jot down details. “We’re thinking of something that really captures the essence of Valentine’s Day,” she began. “We’d like a color scheme that gives off those classic Valentine vibes—reds, pinks, whites. Perhaps some heart-shaped arrangements or something that really stands out and adds to the romantic atmosphere.

“That sounds lovely. I can definitely work with those colors and themes,” your grandmother said, scribbling down notes. “Do you have any specific types of flowers in mind?”

“Well, we were thinking of using roses primarily, but we’re open to suggestions. Maybe some baby’s breath or lilies to complement them? Something that looks elegant and sophisticated, but also warm and inviting,” the manager replied. “I can certainly arrange that. Would you prefer more traditional arrangements, or are you looking for something more modern and creative?” your grandmother inquired, her mind already running like a train off the rails with ideas.

“A mix of both would be great. We want the café to have a cozy, welcoming feel, but also something that catches the eye and feels special. It’s a big day for us, and we want our customers to feel that love and effort,” the manager explained. “Understood. I’ll start working on some designs and get back to you with a few options. When would you like to see the samples?” your grandmother asked, feeling more confident now that she had a clearer idea of what was needed.

“If possible, could I visit your shop tomorrow? It would be great to discuss things and see the process in person,” the manager requested, tone so bright your grandmother swore she could practically hear her smiling from the other end of the line. “Of course! That sounds like a good plan. What time would work best for you?” your grandmother asked, flipping to a fresh page in her notepad to note the appointment.

“How about around noon? That’s usually a quieter time for us, so we can discuss everything without too many interruptions,” the manager offered. “Noon works perfectly for me. I’ll see you then,” your grandmother confirmed. “Great! Thank you so much for working with us on this. We’re really looking forward to seeing your designs,” the manager said, her relief evident in her voice.

“It’s my pleasure. I look forward to working with you as well,” your grandmother replied warmly before the call ended. The manager looked over at Seonghwa, who had been listening intently. “Looks like things are starting to come together, huh?” she said with a smile on her face. “That’s great news. I’m sure the event will turn out amazing,” Seonghwa said, mirroring her smile with one of his own. “I hope so. It’s going to be a lot of work, but I think it’ll be worth it,” she replied, her enthusiasm evident in her voice. “Thank you for sticking around, Seonghwa. You should probably head home and get some rest now.”

****

The night had long since then passed, and Seonghwa was now already on his way to work, tapping his foot on the ground while waiting for the stoplights to turn green so he could cross the street. He pushed the long strands of his hair that were framing his face back, fingers getting slightly wet since his hair was still quite soaked. Why, must you ask? His decision of staying overtime at the café last night was made on a whim, because he wasn’t really thinking straight yesterday due to his strange emotions taking a toll on him. Had the manager not been met with the sight of him looking absolutely disheveled laying down on the couch, he probably might’ve even considered staying the night.

He was too busy trying to untangle his feelings to even remember that he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before—and so, as a result, Seonghwa ended up oversleeping yesterday. Yet one thing about him was that he was either gonna show up fashionably late, or not show up at all. Despite knowing he should’ve resigned from wearing a stylish fit and making an effort to fix himself up at least just for today, Seonghwa does not want his customers to say in their thoughts, “He looks like he just came back from a war.”

Today, he chose to wear an oversized checkered brown and white cardigan on top of a plain white shirt, paired with black pants with converse shoes in the same color as the brown hue of his cardigan. He didn’t have much time left for fixing his face up—everyone believes this is totally unnecessary for a face as beautiful as his, but he insists—so he decided to just wear a pair of glasses with a brown frame, remembering what Yunho used to say about glasses perfectly suiting him.

The stoplights had finally turned green, and he wasted no time in practically running towards the coffee shop he works at. He knew his hair would end up looking like a flock of birds had just nested on it by the time he’d reach the café’s front doors, but at this point, he was too late to care. Stopping in his tracks by the time he saw the large signage of the café he works at, Seonghwa decided to take a break from running and started walking slowly towards it, heavy breaths getting released with each step. The familiar ringing of the bells echoed in his ear the moment he opened the doors, the warm scent of various brews making its way to his nose.

“Oh, hey, Seonghwa!” a coworker of his called for him by a table, motioning for him to come over. “Our manager left a note for you by the counter. She said it was about something urgent, so you might wanna take a look at it,” he said, pointing to a small folded piece of paper pinned by the corkboard. Seonghwa nodded, immediately making his way to the corkboard by the counter. Taking the piece of paper off the corkboard, he carefully unfolded it, reading the words that seem to have been hurriedly written on it:

“Seonghwa, before anything else, I deeply apologize for the late notice. Remember when the sweet old lady from the flower shop asked me to stop by today so we could discuss our plans for the event further? Well, the thing is, something urgent came up and I can’t visit her today. If it won’t be too much trouble for you, could you please be the one to visit her this afternoon instead? You’re free to have the rest of the day off after doing so for compensation. I’ll make it up to you once I get things sorted out.”

For at least a few seconds, all he could do was stare at the scribbled words on the paper blankly. Part of him wonders what came up for his manager to have to skip work for the day, but then he eventually realizes that it’s probably something regarding her personal issues, so he shouldn’t really meddle about it. A detour to the flower shop in the middle of the day sure does sound a little hectic for him, especially since it’s a last-minute request, but being given permission not to continue working at the café afterwards and just spend the rest of his day to his liking does sound like a good deal to make it up for him, too.

You, however, were not exactly feeling the best of the best.

Unfortunately, your grandmother couldn’t go to work today due to having a fever you swear she got from not listening to your consistent reminders to take her medications regularly, so it was all up to you to manage the shop all by yourself. It didn’t help that your duties for the day were of a higher amount than the usual, either. Earlier in the morning, your grandmother called you to inform you about the phone call she had the night before with the manager of the café whose Valentine’s event your shop will be sponsoring, informing you that the manager had already told her about specific designs and patterns she thought would fit the theme of their event.

Their requests were highly specific, too, which only ended up making things harder for you—as now, you’re still stuck on completing the first set of decorations. It wouldn’t be an issue at all, had you not been working on it since the brink of dawn, and had the manager not been supposed to stop by later around 1, which is currently half an hour away from now. So, as a result, you decided to close the shop for the day and solely focus on getting the decorations done. Of course, you made sure to leave a little note by the front doors for the manager, telling her to disregard the “CLOSED” signage and just barge in as she wishes.

The first set of decorations consisted of a series of small floral arrangements designed to be hung from the ceiling. You were envisioning these hanging arrangements as delicate bursts of color that would gently sway above the heads of the café’s customers, creating a romantic atmosphere.

Each decoration was to be composed of a variety of flowers, with a strong emphasis on pink and white hues to match both the manager’s requests and the event’s theme. You had chosen to use a mix of roses, peonies, and baby's breath, carefully arranging them into small, rounded bouquets. Each bouquet was tied with a length of white ribbon that would be used to hang them from the ceiling. After finally finishing the first batch of decorations, you gathered them all together on the ground, carefully examining it as you can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing—it exceeds beauty yet lacks character. As you were thinking of what to add, the sky suddenly turned gloomy, with droplets slowly starting to stain your shop’s glass door. The weather forecast for today said today would be a sunny day, so this was completely unexpected.

You absolutely dread days like this. If there was one thing you hate more than the feeling of wet socks on your skin, it would be none other than rainy days. You just don’t have any good memories tied with it, is all. And it seems as if the world hates to be in your favor, as it’s been raining for weeks now. From your view inside the shop, citizens were either hurrying to the nearest area of shelter, while others were normally continuing their strolls, only having to take their umbrellas out of their bags. You wonder if the manager brought an umbrella with her.

Suddenly snapping out of your thoughts due to thinking about her, you immediately looked up to the wall clock by the counter, only to find out that there are approximately a few minutes left until she arrives. You then hurriedly get back on track, thinking of what additional decoration to add to the small bouquets.You wanted to add a unique touch, and after some thought, you decided to incorporate tiny heart-shaped ornaments, each one nestled among the flowers. These ornaments were delicate and glittery, catching the light in a way that would add a touch of magic to the decorations.

You were carefully adding them onto each bouquet, making sure that the flowers were perfectly arranged and that the ribbons were tied securely. The process was moving slowly yet surely, and you found yourself frequently glancing at the clock, anxious about the manager’s arrival. As you were carefully attaching a heart-shaped ornament to one of the bouquets, the bell above the shop door rang, signaling the arrival of someone. You looked up, expecting to see the manager, but instead, you saw a young man with soaked hair and a stylish yet slightly hurried appearance, dark spots on his cardigan which you could only assume were from the pouring droplets outside. He looked around the shop, his eyes eventually landing on you.

Your breath caught in your throat. There, standing in the entrance of the flower shop, was Seonghwa. You hadn’t seen him since the day you accompanied Wooyoung to his dance lessons, and now, here he was, looking as effortlessly stunning as ever despite being soaked by the rain. His presence was so unexpected that you felt like time had stopped for a moment. The world outside seemed to blur, and all you could focus on was him. Seonghwa, the guy you had been crushing on for what felt like forever, was standing in your flower shop. The same Seonghwa who worked at the café you loved to visit, the café you had no idea was the one your shop was sponsoring for Valentine’s Day—at least not until now. This wasn’t what you had prepared for. You were expecting to see the manager, not the man of your dreams.

“You know, I’m so close to fully believing we’re destined to know each other—with how many times I’ve unexpectedly crossed paths with you,” Seonghwa said while shrugging his hair out of his face, his tone clarifying that he was clearly just throwing in a harmless joke to ease your nerves.

Yet despite this, you find your brain short-circuiting as the only thing you heard clearly was him saying you were destined to know one another.

“If that’s the case, I hope you remember me as the girl who did well on a whisper game round with you and not as whatever else God knows you witnessed me doing,” you replied with a laugh, trying to appear as if you weren’t going absolutely insane deep inside. “Well, unfortunately, I do know you as the girl who said “thanks, you too,” when I placed her order on her table-”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

He suddenly starts laughing, and for a moment, you ponder if this is what lone souls headed to heaven hear on their way there. You find yourself joining his fit of laughter, dropping the act of being annoyed by him—an act not even one person would’ve bought anyway, because even if you were rolling your eyes at him, it was still painfully obvious you were trying your very best not to smile. “The weather forecast is an absolute liar for stating it’ll finally be sunny today,” Seonghwa said while placing his things on the counter. You couldn’t agree more.

“I’ll get you a towel you can dry yourself with real quick,” you hurriedly said as if it’s a line you’ve been practicing and preparing to say for the past few seconds, placing the bouquet you’re holding down on the floor to look for a towel in the somewhat clean storage room. As you entered the area, you were quick to close the door behind you and lean your back against it, dramatically sliding down with your hands covering your mouth. Searching your pockets for your phone so you can message Wooyoung about it, your eyes widened as you suddenly remembered that you left it by the counter.

Sighing, you stood up, silently squealing while burying your hands in your hair. At this point, you were so close to just kneeling down and begging the ground to eat you alive. The fact that Seonghwa has this much of an effect on you leaves you appalled. Finally getting it together after what seemed like a pretty long while—at least to you, your eyes started searching the room for a clean towel to give Seonghwa as if you weren’t just going insane over him a few seconds ago.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Seonghwa was walking through the shop, admiring every creation of both yours and your grandmother’s settled down by the aisles. Spotting a bouquet of gypsophila in the middle of his stroll, Seonghwa immediately stopped in his tracks. Somehow, he feels like this bouquet in particular holds a meaning more special than the other ones he has seen. It holds a beauty other bouquets don’t seem to have in them, too.

“Seonghwa? Where are- oh...”

Seonghwa’s head then turns back, only to find you standing by the end of the aisle with a towel hung by your shoulder and a hair comb within the grasp of your hand.

“Oh, hey, I was just checking out the place. I hope that’s alright with you…?” Seonghwa trailed off, unsure whether he should be where he is right now, given the look on your face. Upon this, you were quick to wave him off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “What? no, no, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be at all,” you said, walking towards him. “Do you like this one?” you asked, pointing to the bouquet of gypsophila you saw him staring at earlier. “Yeah, it’s really pretty. It has this ring of uniqueness in it that the others don’t seem to have,” he replied, smiling at you.

Silence then engulfs the room, and the only thing you could hear were the muffled sounds of raindrops harshly falling down to the ground from outside. The humming buzz of the shop’s air-conditioner was another thing, too. While Seonghwa was busy looking at the other sets of flowers in front of him, you were busy contemplating on whether you should overshare a piece of information regarding the bouquet of gypsophila your conversation with Seonghwa would still be perfectly fine without.

Well, it’s either one step forward or three steps back.

“My mother’s favorite flower was gypsophila. She always wanted to build a flower shop of her own, too,” you spoke up, breaking the chains of silence binding itself around you and Seonghwa. It takes him a few seconds to put two and two together, and once he finally did, it was as if you already saw the look of pity on his face coming ahead.

Yet much to your surprise, you were proven wrong, as the moment he turned his face towards you, a soft smile was gracing his lips. Seonghwa glanced at the bouquet of gypsophila again, then turned back to you, his expression gentle. “You know,” he began, “the reason this bouquet holds a different vibe is probably because your mother’s soul has chosen to reside in it. Maybe she did so to ensure that, even as a soul now, she can still watch over you.”

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you felt a different type of warmth spread through your chest—something you haven’t felt in quite a long while. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind his words or the sincerity in his eyes that moved you so deeply. Perhaps it was both.

“I… I never thought of it that way,” you replied softly, feeling a lump forming in your throat as memories of your mother suddenly began to resurface in your mind. “It’s a beautiful thought, though.” Seonghwa smiled, his gaze still as soft as ever. “Sometimes, I think the people we’ve lost find small ways to let us know they’re still with us. Your mother must have had an incredible spirit to leave such a beautiful mark behind.” You looked at the bouquet, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. “She did,” you said, your voice barely battling with the muffled sounds of raindrops outside. “She really did.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the soft glow of the warm lights of the flower shop casting a comforting hue over everything. It was oddly peaceful—an almost sacred moment.

Seonghwa gently placed a finger on the bouquet, his touch as light as a feather falling down the ground. “I’m sure she’d be proud of everything you’ve done here,” he said with a smile. “This shop, these flowers, they’re a testament to her legacy and to your hard work.” You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He returned your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. No words needed to be spoken at all. After a moment, you remembered the towel you were holding and handed it to him. “Oh, uh, here, you should dry off before you catch a cold,” you said, hurriedly wiping a stray tear the moment he took it from your hands.

Seonghwa took the towel with a grateful nod. "Thanks," he said, starting to pat his hair dry. As he did, he glanced around the shop again, his curiosity piqued. “So, what’s the plan for the decorations?” You perked up at his question, eager to shift the conversation to something a bit more practical. “Well, the manager had some specific requests for the event. I’ve been working on a set of decorations that’ll be hanging from the ceiling. They’re meant to create a sort of canopy effect with flowers and lights.”

"Oh, right, I saw those. They’re the ones on the floor by the counter, right?” Seonghwa asked, genuinely intrigued. "What kind of flowers are you using?”

“A mix of roses, lilies, this and that,” you replied, gesturing to a nearby arrangement outside the aisle. “They all complement each other well and give off a really romantic vibe, which is perfect for Valentine’s Day.” Seonghwa nodded, his eyes lighting up with interest so much the lights above were even reflecting on his eyes—as if his gaze held the night sky within them. “Do you need any help with them? I’ve got the rest of the day off after this, so I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

The offer took you by surprise, and you felt your cheeks turn warm again. “A-are you sure? I mean, wouldn’t you want to use your free time to yourself?” you asked, feeling hesitant to accept his offer because 1. He’s not even supposed to be here in the first place, and 2. You don’t think you can last a few more hours in the same space as him without fainting somewhere in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry about it! I don’t have anything else I want to do, anyway, and what you’re doing genuinely seems fun—minus the stressful part of having to come up with ideas, of course,” Seonghwa said with a grin, making you laugh and nod in agreement. “Anyway, I insist. Plus, these decorations are for the café I’m working at, anyway, so why shouldn’t I help you out?” he said, tilting his head. After a few more seconds of him trying to convince you to accept his offer, you finally caved in. “Alright, fine.”

You led him to the workspace where you had been preparing the decorations. You decided to start with demonstrating the process, and as you were doing so, you found yourself stealing a few glances at him, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was surreal to have him here, helping you with something so important, and you couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your chest every time he smiled at you or complimented your work.

The conversation you’re about to have with Wooyoung later in the evening will definitely last for hours on end.

“Wow, you’re really good at this. Did you always have a knack for flower arranging?” Seonghwa asked, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he watched you skillfully weave the flowers together. “Oh, uh, thanks,” you replied with a sheepish laugh, trying not to make it obvious that a simple compliment for him is enough to drive you on edge.

“I guess it runs in the family. My grandmother taught me everything I know," you replied with a smile, your hands moving deftly among the blossoms. Seonghwa observed you closely, his eyes tracing the movements of your fingers as you arranged the flowers with such ease. “She must be really proud of you, then. This shop is amazing,” he said, glancing around at the various floral displays that adorned the room. “I’ve never seen someone handle flowers with so much grace. It’s like you’re conducting an orchestra,” Seonghwa says as he turns back to you with a lighthearted laugh, making you smile. “I can’t say I’ve heard such a compliment before.”

Finally down to the last touch, you finished making the bouquet after adding the little heart-shaped ornament on it. “And, there you go! All done,” you said, handing it to Seonghwa for him to observe while you busied yourself with stretching your arms. Seonghwa observes the bouquet, turning it gently in his hands to take in every detail. The arrangement is perfect, each flower meticulously placed, and the heart-shaped ornament adds a charming touch. “This looks amazing,” he said, genuinely impressed. “It’s pretty and definitely matches the Valentine’s vibe we’re aiming for at the café.” You felt a swell of pride at his words, your cheeks warming slightly. “I’m glad you think so. Now, it’s your turn.”

Seonghwa blinked, taken aback. “My turn?”

“Yep, your turn, Seonghwa.” you replied with a playful grin. “You saw what I did. Now, you get to try making one of the decorations on your own. Don’t look so nervous now, I’ll guide you through it. And then, after you’re done, we’ll start working together.” He looked a bit apprehensive but nodded, rolling up the sleeves of his cardigan as if preparing for a challenge. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You handed him a bundle of flowers and some tools, stepping beside him to offer guidance. “First, you need to choose a few flowers that complement each other. Think about the colors and how they’ll look together.” Seonghwa carefully selected a few blooms, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” you encouraged, your fingers brushing against his as you helped him arrange the flowers. Seonghwa took a deep breath and began the process of making the bouquet, following your instructions step by step. You watched him closely, offering guidance when needed.

“Start with the largest flower in the center,” you said, handing him a beautiful red rose from the set of flowers he picked. Seonghwa carefully placed the rose in the center, arranging smaller flowers around it. He was surprisingly focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to replicate your earlier demonstration. His hands were a bit clumsy at first, but he gradually got the hang of it. “This is harder than it looks,” he muttered, a lighthearted frustration in his voice. You laughed softly. “It takes practice, but you’re doing great. Just be patient with yourself.”

“Now, add some greenery to fill in the gaps,” you instructed, handing him a few sprigs of baby’s breath. He nodded, his hands moving more confidently as he worked. Just as he was placing a delicate spray of baby’s breath, he winced, jerking his hand back. “Ouch!” he hissed, looking at his finger. You quickly moved closer, concern etched on your face. "What happened?”

“I think I pricked my finger on a thorn,” he said, holding up his hand to show a small drop of blood forming on his fingertip. “Here, let me see,” you said, gently taking his hand in yours. Your touch was light, but it sent a jolt through you, your heart racing. You tried to focus on dabbing at the small wound with a tissue you found by the counter, all while trying not to think of how close you were to him. Seonghwa watched you, his gaze fixed on your face. He noticed the way your brows knitted together in concentration, the gentle way you handled his hand. He found himself unable to look away, somewhat mesmerized.

“You’ve got to be careful,” you said softly, finally looking up at him. “Roses are beautiful but tricky to work with.” Seonghwa cleared his throat, snapping out of his trance. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” You smiled, giving his hand a final pat before letting go. “Alright, back to work. Just a few more touches and you’ll be done.” He nodded, still a bit confused by the strange flutter in his chest. He resumed his task, this time more mindful of the thorns.

After a while, Seonghwa was now nearing the final stretch, now getting down to the step of binding the bouquet with a ribbon. He took a deep breath and tried to tie a neat bow, but somehow ended up with a tangled mess. He looked at you silently, his eyes pleading for help. You couldn't help but laugh gently, “I think you just invented a new kind of knot, Seonghwa.” He chuckled, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, tying bows was never my strong suit.”

“Let me show you again,” you said, moving closer to him. You demonstrated the technique, your fingers deftly working the ribbon into a perfect bow. “You see? It's all about making a simple loop and pulling it through.” Seonghwa nodded, but when it was his turn to try again, he still ended up with another tangled mess. Seeing his frustration, you decided to guide him more closely. “Here, let me help you,” you said softly, positioning yourself behind him. Kneeling down, you leaned forward slightly, so your face was level with his from behind. You reached forward, your hands gently covering his.

“Okay, just follow my lead,” you instructed, guiding his hands with yours. Your proximity made your heart race, but you focused on the task at hand. “Make a loop with this end,” you said, your hands moving his fingers to create the loop. “Now, take the other end and pull it through here.” He followed your movements, feeling the smooth texture of the ribbon under your combined touch. “See? Just like that,” you whispered, the bow finally taking shape. As Seonghwa turned his head slightly, he suddenly realized just how close you were. In that brief moment, he swore he felt your breath on his skin, and for an instant, it seemed like your lips were almost touching.

Quickly, he turned his head back to the front, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He cleared his throat, trying to push aside the sudden rush of emotions that had flooded him like a waterfall in that moment. “Uh, thanks again,” he managed to say, his voice in a slightly lower octave than usual. You nodded, trying to appear unbothered. “No problem,” you replied. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Then, with a shaky laugh, you stepped back, breaking the spell. “We should probably finish up this bouquet,” you said, your voice slightly higher than usual. Seonghwa nodded, grateful for the change in topic. “Yeah, we should.”

A few hours have passed, and as the last bouquet was finished, neither of you realized just how much time had passed. When you finally glanced outside, you were surprised to see that it had already gone dark. Turning to check the wall clock, you noted that it was now 6 in the evening. Leaning back to admire your handiwork, you and Seonghwa exchanged a satisfied glance.

Then, almost as if in unison, you both high-fived each other, a sense of accomplishment filling the air. As you sat beside each other on the floor, a comfortable silence settled between you. Gazing at the tiny bouquets neatly sprawled on the floor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. “Wow, they're beautiful, aren't they?” you remarked, your voice filled with awe. Seonghwa's eyes softened as he looked at you, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, beautiful.”

You turned your head to look at him, only to find him staring at a bouquet he’s holding. “So, have you got any ideas for what other decorations you can make yet?” he asked, laying down on the floor. You decided to mimic his actions, laying down in the opposite direction yet still remaining at face level with him. You sighed. “No, my mind’s at a dead end right now,” you said, staring at the lights hung at the ceiling above. “Any suggestions?”

“Well…” Seonghwa trailed off, raising his hand to look at his wounded finger you gently wrapped with a daisy patterned baby blue bandage earlier. “How about heart-shaped window displays?” he suggests. “You could make them from a mix of red and pink roses, with ribbons and laces for that extra touch of romance.”

“That sounds perfect,” you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “But... I’m not sure how I’ll finish everything in time for Valentine’s Day. There’s still so much to do.” A flicker of uncertainty crosses Seonghwa's features as if he’s unsure whether to say what’s in his mind or not before he offers you a smile, tilting his head to the side to look at you. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” he says, with a voice as soft as water running through a river in the morning. “I can always lend you a hand if you need help. All you need to do is ask.”

“Seonghwa, you have to go to work, too,” you said in a matter-of-fact tone, tilting your head towards him—and suddenly, you’re reminded of the moment your lips nearly touched when you were teaching him how to tie a knot earlier. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t be hard to talk my manager through letting me get off the hook of which I call my working hours a little earlier than usual, trust me,” he said with a smile.

You sighed, finding yourself caving in to his plans once more. “Okay, okay, fine. You know, I’m starting to think you’re casting a spell upon me that makes me unable to say no to you in all aspects,” you joked, earning a laugh from him. “Maybe, maybe not,” he plays along, sitting up after glancing at the wall clock hung on the wall by the counter. “So then, if you don’t mind, may I have your number?”

The world stops all of a sudden, and not even the buzz of the air-conditioner was able to help with making your surroundings a little less silent. “I mean, just so we could keep in touch in case you need my help, of course,” he said, faster than the speed of light to clear himself up after realizing what impression his last words just gave off.

“Oh, yeah, uh, sure,” you stumbled upon your words, sitting up from the ground to reach for your phone so you could exchange phone numbers with him. Opening your phone for what feels like the first time today, you were bombarded by countless message notifications from Wooyoung all piled on top of each other in your lockscreen. You’d have to tell him to come over once you get home.

“Seonghwa, it's getting late. You should probably head home. And take this,” you add, handing him your umbrella, “just in case it starts raining again on your way home.”

Seonghwa's eyes widen slightly in surprise as he tries to refuse, “Oh, no, I couldn't possibly-”

“I insist. Besides, I have plenty at home. You might need it more than I do,” you said, inching the umbrella closer to him.

You did not have plenty at home at all, and the umbrella you were holding in your grasp was literally the last one of its kind in your possession, but hey, we all have our moments, don’t we?

"Well,” he started as if there was an idea brewing inside his head, “your shop's closed for the day, anyway, isn't it? I can just help you with cleaning things up here, then I'll walk you home afterwards."

Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected offer, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh, Seonghwa, you really don’t have to do that. I can manage on my own.”

But he mirrors your earlier insistence, his voice gentle yet firm in a way that indirectly implies to you that there’s no room left for saying no. “I insist. Like you said earlier, it’s getting late.”

As you and Seonghwa stroll along the quiet streets, the evening air crisp and cool, you find yourself engaged in conversation, the words flowing easily between you.

"So, where do you live?" you ask, curiosity bubbling up as you realize you don’t really know much about Seonghwa's personal life. He gestures towards a direction, “I live a bit further from here, actually.”

You nod, a hint of surprise clouding your features. “Oh, really? Now I feel bad for agreeing to your offer of walking me home,” you said genuinely, but all Seonghwa could do was let out a soft laugh. “Don’t stress it out. It’s no trouble at all.”

As you continue your conversation, you eventually bring up his best friend, Yunho. “So, tell me about Yunho. How do you two know each other?”

Seonghwa's expression lights up with fondness as he reminisces. “Yunho and I go way back in high school. I was the president of the high school dance club named Dilettante, and it was a small group at first, just a few of us who shared a passion for dance. Yunho joined us early on, and from the moment he stepped into the studio, I knew he was something special—that’s when we started getting to know each other.”

You can't help but be surprised by this revelation. “Wait, you used to be a dancer?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I know, I don’t exactly fit the stereotype. But yeah, I was. Although I stopped dancing after entering college. Just lost interest, I guess.”

You furrow your brows in curiosity. “But Yunho still dances?”

Seonghwa nods. “Yeah, he’s still really into it. Funny how things turn out, huh?” he said, making you nod in agreement. Silence then fell between both of you for a short while, but it wasn’t until Seonghwa picked the conversation back up.

“What about you and Wooyoung?” he asked, “you both seem to have quite the friendship.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve been through it all together. We actually go way back, too, but instead of high school, we’ve been friends since childhood. He’s the son of a family friend, so we practically grew up together.”

Seonghwa laughs at the image painted by your words. “Sounds like quite the dynamic duo to me.”

You nod, smiling. “You have no idea. Our childhood friendship mainly consisted of arguing and making each other cry over toys, candies, and who gets how many turns on playground rides, though…”

Seonghwa chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, it appears some things never change. Remember when Yunho and I walked in on both of you yelling at each other on top of your lungs while playing the whisper game?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

You both then burst into a fit of laughter, and for a second, you wish time would just stop running so this moment could last longer than it’s meant to be.

Finally reaching your apartment, you turn to face Seonghwa. “Thank you for walking me home and for everything else you helped with today. I appreciate it a lot.”

Seonghwa offers a warm smile, shaking his head slightly. “It’s nothing, really. I’m glad I could help.”

Then, unexpectedly, he adds, “And I don’t mind doing it again. Even every day, if you’d like.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a moment, your heart skips a beat as butterflies spread all over your body like wildfire. Could he be implying...? No, you chide yourself, not wanting to let your assumptions run wild.

But it wouldn’t hurt to try and push a few buttons to see where it’ll lead you, right? So, you laugh lightly, trying to brush off the sudden flutter in your chest. “Um… see you again soon, then?” you said, hoping he catches your drift.

Seonghwa’s smile only widens, his gaze softening. “See you again soon.”

****

You wake up to the symphony of birds chirping outside your window, the gentle gap between your curtain binds allowing the sun’s rays to spill into your room, casting a warm, golden glow. A smile graces your lips; what better way to greet the day than with the embrace of a sunny morning? This has always been your favorite kind of weather.

Sitting up, you lean against the headboard, hugging your pillow, reluctant to leave the cocoon of your bed. Your gaze falls upon the flower vase on your nightstand, and your thoughts, as if by instinct, drift to Seonghwa and the time you both spent together yesterday.

It feels surreal. Just months ago, he was merely the pretty boy working at your favorite café, someone you admired from afar—nothing more, nothing less. You always believed your lives were like parallel lines—close, yet never meant to intersect.

And now, that same pretty boy had walked you home last night. The series of not-so-coincidental events and the threads that wove yesterday into being seemed almost dreamlike.

It’s amusing, really. Since the last time you saw him, rainy days have been relentless. But after last night, the sun shines as brightly as a daisy.

Your phone then suddenly rings, jolting you from your thoughts. The name on the screen makes your eyes widen—Wooyoung. You suddenly remember the flood of messages he sent you yesterday, messages you had promised yourself you'd respond to once you got home. But after a whirlwind of a day and feeling utterly exhausted, you had gone straight to bed.

You quickly answer the call, trying to sound as awake as possible. “Woo, hey!”

“Why on earth haven’t you been picking up or answering my messages?” Wooyoung’s voice emerges from the other end of the line, a mix of annoyance and concern.

You sigh, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m so sorry, Woo. I was super busy yesterday working on decorations for a café’s Valentine’s Day event—the one I told you about, remember? I saw your messages but didn’t have a chance to reply.”

“Oh, right,” he said, his tone eventually softening as he remembered. “What café is it, anyway?”

Fully awake now, you suddenly recall you haven’t told him about the big twist. “Oh my gosh, Woo, I haven’t even told you the craziest part yet.”

“Wait, what? Tell me!” His curiosity is piqued, and you can practically hear the eagerness in his voice.

You take a deep breath as if to drive Wooyoung on edge and dive in. “Okay, so, the thing is… the café I'm doing the decorations for is the one Seonghwa works at.”

There’s a brief pause before Wooyoung exclaims, “Wait… Seonghwa? Like, the Seonghwa from your favorite café? The one you’ve been crushing on for ages?!”

“Yes!” you laugh, feeling the excitement bubbling up again. “It was so surreal. He came to the shop because his manager wanted to check the progress of the decorations, and my grandmother was supposed to handle it, but she was sick, so I was there instead.”

Wooyoung then cuts you off. “Wait, wait, wait! This is too good to just talk about over the phone. This is a gossip conversation we need to have in person.”

You laugh, amused by his enthusiasm. “Seriously, Woo?”

“Seriously! Hold on, I'll be there in a few,” he said, and you could hear the sound of his bedsheets rustling in the background. “Don’t say another word about it until I get there.”

A few minutes pass, and you and Wooyoung are now sitting on the sofa, munching on snacks he bought on his way to your apartment. The cozy familiarity of his presence fills the room, and you feel the excitement bubbling up again.

“Okay, spill,” Wooyoung says, leaning forward eagerly. “Continue your story from where you left off.”

You sit up straight, ready to tell him all about it. "Alright, so I was just working on the hanging ornaments when he suddenly showed up in the shop. And, oh my gosh, Woo, his hair and part of his clothes were all drenched from the rain.”

“It’s like what they all say,” he says, “you can take Seonghwa out of the K-drama male lead, but you can never take the K-drama male lead out of Seonghwa.”

You nod, laughing. “That doesn’t make any sense at all, but it’s exactly like that. And he looked so beautiful, I swear I nearly died yesterday.”

Wooyoung lets out a low whistle. “Man, if that’s not straight out of a drama, then I don’t know what is. What happened next?”

“So,” you start, “I went to the storage room to fetch him a towel. I was in there for, like, a minute or two? Because I couldn’t regain composure and was just straight up walking back and forth without even daring to look for a towel. And when I came back, I saw him admiring a bouquet of gypsophila that my grandmother made.”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shoot up. “Gypsophila? Isn't that...?”

You nod, the memory making your heart ache. “Yeah, it was my mom’s favorite flower. I got a little emotional when he said something sentimental about it.” Wooyoung leans in, his eyes glistening with curiosity. “Wait, what did he say?”

You then recall the moment vividly. “I told him it was my mom’s favorite flower and how she always wanted to build a flower shop. And instead of looking at me with pity, he just smiled and said, ‘You know, the reason this bouquet holds a different vibe is probably because your mother’s soul has chosen to reside in it. Maybe she did so to ensure that, even as a soul now, she can still watch over you.’”

Wooyoung's mouth drops open. “Wow, that’s beautiful—definitely one way to look at things. Now I get what Yunho means by calling Seonghwa a token sweet boy. So, what happened next?” he asks.

“I told him I never thought of it that way, but it was a beautiful thought. And he said, ‘Sometimes, I think the people we’ve lost find small ways to let us know they’re still with us. Your mother must have had an incredible spirit to leave such a beautiful mark behind.’”

Wooyoung leans back, seemingly impressed with Seonghwa’s mindset. “That’s pretty profound. How is this guy real? Seriously.” You smile, feeling the warmth of the memory. “I know, right? It was such a beautiful moment.”

Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. “Okay, what happened next?”

“He offered to help me with the decorations,” you continue. “I showed him how to make them, and then told him it was his turn. But he kept messing up.” Wooyoung snickers. “Messing up? Like, how bad are we talking?”

“Pretty bad,” you laugh. “And then, he accidentally cut his finger on a rose thorn.” Wooyoung gasps, eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. “Ouch. What did you do, then?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“Well, I bandaged his finger up,” you say, your cheeks warming at the memory. “We were so close, I could barely even look up at him! It felt so surreal, Woo. I can’t believe it all actually happened.” Wooyoung nods vigorously, still buzzing with excitement. “This is the best thing I’ve heard in ages! You have to tell me everything else that happened.”

So then, you recount the moment when you were teaching Seonghwa how to tie a knot on the bouquets. “So, I demonstrated it to him first, but he couldn’t quite get it right,” you say, a fond smile finding its way to your lips. Wooyoung leans in, his eyes wide with anticipation. "So what did you do, then?”

“Well,” you continue, "I positioned myself behind him, kneeling down and, like, leaning forward slightly so my face was level with his from behind—if you get the image I’m trying to paint. I reached forward, my hands gently covering his, guiding him through making the knot.” Wooyoung's eyebrows shoot up. "No way, you were that close to him? Wow, you never striked me as the type to be brave enough to pull that kinda move.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, yet still feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Yeah, and then, you’re so not gonna believe this, but then Seonghwa suddenly tilted his head, and then our lips almost touched-”

“Shut up! Are you serious?!” “Dead serious, Woo!” you confirm, your heart still racing at the memory. “It was so awkward, you know. Like, I wasn’t expecting him to look behind at all so I didn’t bother much about keeping a distance between our faces, and there was this tension and silence before we both cleared our throats and went back to work, trying to act like nothing happened!”

Wooyoung bursts into laughter, doubling over with amusement. “Oh my god, you and Seonghwa are literally the embodiment of a slowburn trope, you know?” You join in his laughter, feeling lighter than you have in a long time. "Yeah, tell me about it. It's been quite the rollercoaster.”

“So, what else?”

“It was already getting late that time, so I told him he should probably head home. Since the weather was acting up yesterday, I offered him my umbrella in case it would rain, but he refused,” you start, continuing after getting a hum from Wooyoung, “I kept insisting, and he suddenly came up with something.”

“Something?” Wooyoung tilts his head.

“He said that since the shop was closed for the day last night anyway, he can just help me with cleaning up, and then he’ll walk me home afterwards,” you said, a warm rush creeping up to your cheeks once more. “Please tell me you said yes,” Wooyoung pleads, leaning forward with widened eyes. You sheepishly chuckled, earning a raised eyebrow from him.

“I mean, I was kinda hesitant at first, but he kept insisting, tossing my words back to me and saying it’s already getting late and it wouldn’t be safe for me to head home alone.” Wooyoung then nods thoughtfully. “He’s right.”

You smile in return, being reminded of how it’s what Wooyoung would always tell you whenever he insists on walking you home during the times you’d head home a little later than usual. “So, did you accept it?” You nod in confirmation. “Yeah, I did. And as we were walking, we started talking about all sorts of things, this and that. I asked him about Yunho, and it turns out they go way back in high school. Seonghwa used to be the president of a dance club named Dilettante, and Yunho was its first member.”

Wooyoung's eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, Seonghwa used to be a dancer?”

“Yeah, I know, it surprised me too. He stopped dancing after college, but Yunho still dances,” you said, shrugging. “That’s new. How come I never heard anything about this from Yunho?” Wooyoung furrows his brows slightly.

You shrugged, “It was totally unexpected on my end, too. He doesn’t really strike me as the type of guy who’d be interested in such a hobby, but he did say he stopped dancing after entering college due to losing interest. People just change over time, I guess.”

Wooyoung smiles, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Sounds like he’s doing a great job at keeping your spirits up, huh?” he says, glad you seem like you’re finally starting to find the light inside you again.

Seeing you so happy over your interactions with Seonghwa fills Wooyoung with a profound sense of joy. He’s known you since childhood, when you were a bright, bubbly spirit untouched by sorrow. After your mother’s passing, he watched that light within you begin to fade. Though you remained optimistic, something essential seemed to have dimmed. Over the days since you first saw Seonghwa at the café and developed a crush on him, Wooyoung noticed a subtle yet beautiful transformation. You began to heal, bit by bit. Now, as you recount your moments with Seonghwa—the way you smile, your laughter ringing through the room—it all reminds Wooyoung of the carefree child you once were.

He realizes that, without knowing it, Seonghwa is helping to rekindle the light inside you. Watching you return to that vibrant, joyful person is more than enough for Wooyoung. Your happiness is his own, and seeing your spirit lift once more is a gift he treasures deeply.

Wooyoung’s smile widens as he speaks up once more. “So, did anything else happen?” You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks again—you swear you’re about to explode any minute now. “Uh, actually, yeah. When we reached my apartment, I thanked him for helping me with the decorations and even offering to walk me home, and…”

“And? Now’s not the time to keep me waiting,” Wooyoung playfully says, impatiently tapping his finger on his thigh. “He said he didn't mind walking me home again. Even offered to do it every day,” you say, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. Wooyoung’s eyes light up with mischief. “Don’t play with me right now! Oh, I’m telling you, that man definitely has a thing for you.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I don’t want to assume anything, Woo. I mean, maybe he’s just being nice.” He gives you a skeptical look. “Nice? Yeah, sure,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “But hey, you should've asked for his number or something.” You laugh, feeling a bit flustered. “I mean, actually, he asked for mine back at the café.”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Then why not send him a message and see where you’re both headed?”

You open your phone, searching for Seonghwa’s contact number, feeling Wooyoung’s curious eyes on you. Finally, you find it and click on his name, typing out a simple “Hi,” but then immediately delete it. Shoving the phone into Wooyoung's chest, you exclaim, “I can’t do this!” as you stand up and start walking around.

Wooyoung eyes you with a raised brow as you pace around the living room, wringing your hands. “Would you stop pacing around and just sit down? Just send Seonghwa a ‘hi’ already.” You glance at him, biting your lip.

“But what if he’s busy doing something? What if he only asked for my number for matters related to their café’s Valentine’s Day event? What if he only asked for my number to be polite and didn’t actually want me to hit him up?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, exasperated but amused. “Seriously? You’re overthinking this. Remember, he literally said he doesn’t mind walking you home again. Even every day, if you want. Tell me, does that sound like someone who's just being polite?”

You stop pacing, feeling the butterflies in your stomach go wild. “I mean… I know, but what if things don’t go well?” Wooyoung stands up, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “If things don’t go well, I’ll be here for you. But you won’t know until you try. So just sit down, open up your phone, and send that message already,” he says while handing you your phone. You take a deep breath, nodding. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”

With shaking hands, you take your phone back from Wooyoung and start typing out a simple message: “Hi, Seonghwa! It’s me. Just wanted to thank you for helping me out with the ornaments and walking me home last night :)”

Before you can overthink it again, you hit send and look up at Wooyoung, who gives you a thumbs-up with a toothy grin. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You laugh nervously. “No, but now we wait.”

Wooyoung grins, settling back on the sofa. “And while we wait, let's talk about something else to distract you. Got any good gossip?”

A few minutes pass, and while you and Wooyoung are talking about the latest town gossip, your phone on the table suddenly lights up with a message notification. Both of you sit up straight, eyes wide with anticipation. “Check it out!” Wooyoung urges, almost bouncing in his seat.

You grab the phone with trembling hands, reading the notification on your lock screen. The moment you see Seonghwa’s name, you throw your phone at Wooyoung’s chest, hiding your face in your hands while kicking your feet back and forth in a mix of excitement and anxiety. Wooyoung catches the phone, surprised. “What did he say?” he asks, but upon seeing your state, he decides to check the message himself. As he reads it, his eyes widen and his mouth falls open in astonishment.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤSeonghwa: Anytime :) How have you been?

Wooyoung gasps, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and glee, “Shut up right now. He asked how you’ve been! That’s a good sign!” Peeking through your fingers, you finally lower your hands, a grin breaking out on your face despite your nerves. “Wait… really?” “Yes, really!” Wooyoung says, excitement lacing his voice as he hurriedly hands you your phone. “Now, what are you going to reply?”

You and Wooyoung then go on a debriefing session, debating intensely on what to reply to Seonghwa. You squeal like a teenage girl, barely able to contain your excitement, while Wooyoung rolls his eyes, urging you to snap out of it. “Come on, we need to keep the conversation going!”

After much back-and-forth, you finally settle on a reply. Wooyoung insists on something that implies you’re free for the day, hoping to hint at an opportunity for Seonghwa to make a move. “Tell him you’re feeling well but a little bored because you don’t have work today and have nothing else to do,” Wooyoung suggests, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “If he follows the script in my head, he’ll ask you out.” With a mixture of both nerves and excitement, you type out the message and hit send.

‎‎‎���‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: I’ve been feeling well, but I’m a little bored since I don’t have work today. There’s nothing else to do…

You and Wooyoung hold your breaths, watching the screen intently. A few moments later, Seonghwa's reply lights up your phone.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤSeonghwa: I know how you feel. My schedule isn’t packed today, either. Wanna go out and do something fun together?

The two of you burst into squeals, jumping up and down with hands intertwined like teenage girls. “He followed the script!” Wooyoung exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. You can't stop grinning, the butterflies in your stomach turning into a full-on swarm. “I can’t believe it, Woo, oh God. He actually asked me out!”

Wooyoung laughs, giving you a playful shove. “Well, don’t keep him waiting. Say yes!” You quickly type out your response, heart pounding in your chest. You made sure not to sound too excited, afraid you’d be too obvious.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou: Oh, I’d love to :D

Seonghwa replies almost instantly, setting both the time and place for your meet-up.

Seonghwa: Great! How about we meet at 2PM at the park near the café? There’s a festival happening there today.

You can't help but smile at his initiative. Don’t we all love a man who plans everything out?

You: Sure. See you later!

Wooyoung claps his hands together, already in full planning mode. “Alright, go take a shower. I’ll pick out your outfit and even find a matching hairstyle for you. We've got to make you look stunning!” You laugh, feeling a wave of gratitude for having such a supportive friend. “Thank you, Woo.”

“Anything for my best friend,” he says, pushing you towards the bathroom. “Now go!”

After a refreshing shower, you step out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around you. Opening the door, you're met with the sight of a perfectly coordinated outfit laid out on your bed—cute but comfortable, perfect for a day out at the festival. The outfit Wooyoung chose for you is a mix of sweet and stylish. It includes a crisp white ruffled blouse paired with a soft yellow cardigan for a touch of warmth. You’ll be comfortable and chic in a flowing brown maxi skirt, complemented by white ankle ruffle socks peeking out of a pair of brown doll shoes. To tie it all together, there’s a cute crochet beige crossbody bag to be slung over your shoulder and a brown beret to match with your skirt. It’s definitely the perfect blend of casual and cute for your day out with Seonghwa. As always, you could never go wrong with trusting Wooyoung to pick your outfits for you.

Wooyoung looks up from his phone with a grin, gesturing towards the outfit. “Well, what do you think? Am I qualified to be the next Yves Saint Laurent?” You chuckle, admiring the outfit he's put together. “Definitely! I couldn't have picked a better outfit myself.

He beams with pride, crossing his arms. “I knew it! Now, let’s get you ready. We have a date to prepare for!”

After Wooyoung leaves the room, you quickly slip into the outfit he's chosen, feeling a surge of confidence as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Heading to the living room, you find Wooyoung sitting on the sofa while scrolling on his phone. Upon hearing your voice, his head shoots up, a wide grin immediately finding its way to his lips. “What do you think?” you beam, doing a little twirl as your skirt flows gently around you.

“Oh, you’re definitely gonna blow his socks off.”

He then proceeds to style your hair, showing you a few different options he found online. After settling on a hairstyle that completes your look, Wooyoung takes a step back, appraising his handiwork. “You look amazing,” he says with a grin. “Seonghwa won’t know what hit him.”

You smile gratefully, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness spreading through you. “Thanks, Woo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He waves off your gratitude with a grin. “It’s so weird hearing you say nice things to me. Now, go knock Seonghwa off his feet—and make sure to tell me all about it once you head back home!”

Just as you’re about to twist the doorknob open, you turn your head back, flashing him a huge smile. “You bet I will, Woo. And you better not gobble up my whole fridge while I’m away!”

“I can’t promise you anything!”

****

You’re on your way to the park, the anticipation buzzing in your chest like a swarm of butterflies. The sky above is a patchwork of gray clouds, partially obscuring the sun’s warm rays. You hope it won’t start raining all of a sudden like what happened yesterday. With each step, your mind races, rehearsing what to say when you see him. Waiting for the stoplight to turn green, you then find yourself in an internal monologue battle with yourself.

“Okay, so... casual greeting or something more enthusiastic?” you ponder, your thoughts echoing in the confines of your mind. “Laid-back might hide my excitement, but would it come off as disinterested? What if I appear to be too enthusiastic and scare him off?” You shake your head, dismissing the first idea. “No, too casual. I want him to know I’m excited to see him, but not like... overly eager,” you mutter to yourself, a faint frown creasing your brow.

A gust of wind ruffles your hair as the light turns green, signaling it’s time to move forward. Hurriedly crossing the street, you make your way to the park beside the café where Seonghwa works. With each step, your heart pounds against your ribcage, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling within you. Reaching the park, you find the area filled with lively decorations and a varying amount of stalls, swarmed with people who look like they're having the time of their lives. You’re glad this is the occasion Seonghwa chose to invite you to; you could really use a festive celebration to brighten up your mood. Your eyes search the place, looking for him.

As if on cue, the moment he entered your line of sight, the clouds part, and a radiant beam of sunlight breaks through the gray expanse. There he is, sitting on a bench, his figure illuminated by the soft glow of the newfound sunlight. Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes lock with his, and a smile graces his lips as he stands up and walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm and inviting, and suddenly, all the words you had meticulously crafted in your mind evaporate into thin air. “Hi,” you reply, your voice coming out softer than intended, your nerves palpable. You mentally berate yourself for completely forgetting your practiced dialogue.

Seonghwa’s eyes sweep over you, and a genuine smile lights up his face as he takes in your appearance. “You look lovely,” he says, the words slipping from his lips with such ease, as if he's just making casual conversation with an old friend. Your heart skips a beat at his compliment, and you struggle to maintain your composure, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions threatening to burst forth. His nonchalant delivery of such a heartfelt compliment only serves as the cherry on top.

“Thank you,” you manage to reply, a blush creeping into your cheeks despite your efforts to appear composed. Inside, you’re anything but calm, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

It’s unfair, you think to yourself, how effortlessly he can make you feel like you’re walking on air while he remains so composed and unruffled. But then again, maybe that’s just part of his charm.

You take your time to look at him, unsurprised that he’s dressed fashionably—yet at the same time, his beauty always feels so new to you. Seonghwa is clad in a clean white dress shirt, topped with a cozy yellow sweater vest. On top of it is a brown leather jacket with a matching bow tie for style—it’s cute, you think. His attire is completed with brown trousers, black docs, and a simple beanie of the same color for a casual touch. He’s wearing his glasses from yesterday, too.

“You look great,” you say, offering him a genuine smile.Seonghwa chuckles, glancing down at his outfit. “Thanks. Funny how we unintentionally ended up matching, huh?”

You laugh along with him, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through you at his playful demeanor. “I guess great minds think alike,” you play along with him, hoping it would suffice to hide the butterflies swarming in your stomach. Looking around your surroundings, you can't help but feel impressed by the park’s lively atmosphere. “This festival is amazing,” you remark, turning to Seonghwa with admiration. “You’re pretty good at picking the best occasions to attend.”

Seonghwa’s smile widens at your words. “I’ve been coming to this festival for a few years now,” he admits. “But this is actually the first time I’ve attended with someone.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? What about Yunho?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Yunho’s always busy with his schedule during the festival,” he explains. “So I usually end up coming alone. I’m excited to finally share this experience with someone, though. I promise you this’ll be worth your time.”

“Any time with you is worth my time,” was what you wanted to say, “I’ll trust your word, then,” was all that escaped from your mouth.

Seonghwa starts with leading you through the bustling festival, making your way through the crowd until you reach a row of vibrant food stalls. The air is thick with mouth watering aromas of mixes of grilled meats, sweet pastries, and exotic spices. Each stall is brightly decorated, and vendors call out to passersby, showcasing their culinary delights. “Wow,” you say, your eyes wide with excitement. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Seonghwa grins, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. “How about we try some tteokbokki first? It's one of my favorites.” He points to a stall with a cheerful sign advertising spicy rice cakes. You nod eagerly. “Sounds perfect.”

You both join the line, and as you wait, Seonghwa explains the different foods on offer. When it's your turn, Seonghwa orders a generous portion. The vendor scoops the tteokbokki into a paper bowl, the vibrant red sauce glistening under the festival lights. Seonghwa hands it to you with a pair of wooden chopsticks.

“Here, try it,” he says, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

You take a small bite of the chewy rice cake coated in spicy sauce. The flavors explode in your mouth, a perfect balance of heat and sweetness. “Oh my gosh, this is straight up heaven on Earth!” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up with delight. Seonghwa chuckles, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I knew you’d like it. Want to try some hotteok next? It's a sweet pancake filled with brown sugar, honey, and nuts.” You nod eagerly, already hooked on the culinary adventure.

You move to the next stall, where the vendor expertly flips hotteok on a griddle. The sweet, nutty aroma is irresistible. Seonghwa orders two, and you watch as the vendor wraps the golden pancakes in paper, handing them over with a smile. You take a bite, and the warm, gooey filling melts in your mouth like honey. “This is incredible,” you say, savoring the rich flavors.

Seonghwa takes a bite of his own, nodding in agreement. “It really is. I love the mix of textures—the crispy outside and the soft, sweet inside.”

As you continue to explore the food stalls, you come across a vendor selling fresh fruit skewers. The colorful display of strawberries, pineapple, and melon catches your eye. “These look so refreshing,” you say, pointing to the skewers. “I’ll get us some, then,” Seonghwa responds almost immediately. He buys a couple of skewers, and you both take a bite, the juicy fruit a perfect palate cleanser after the rich, spicy food.

You stroll through the festival, sampling different dishes and sharing bites of everything. Seonghwa tells you stories about his favorite festival foods and the memories they bring back. You share your own experiences, bonding over the simple pleasure of good food and company. At one point, you come across a stall selling unusual snacks like fried insects and durian. You wrinkle your nose at the smell of durian, and Seonghwa laughs. “Not a fan?”

You shake your head, grinning. “Eh, not really. But I’ll try anything once.”

He raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Brave. Maybe next time.”

As you and Seonghwa continue to walk through the festival, you come across a section filled with colorful carnival games. The area is alive with the sounds of laughter, ringing bells, and playful shouts. Brightly colored booths line the path, each offering a different challenge or prize. The enticing smells of popcorn and cotton candy fill the air, adding to the festive atmosphere. Seonghwa’s eyes light up like stars in the night sky when he spots a ring toss game. “Hey, let’s try this one,” he says, gently tugging you towards the booth.

You glance at the game, noticing the bottles arranged in neat rows, each waiting for a ring to be tossed around its neck. “Sure, why not?” you reply, matching his enthusiasm.

The booth attendant, a friendly woman with a wide smile, hands Seonghwa a few rings. “Good luck!” she says cheerfully. Seonghwa takes a ring, carefully aiming at one of the bottles. His first toss misses, bouncing off the edge and landing on the ground. “Ah, so close,” he mutters.

You try your best not to laugh, but Seonghwa was quick to notice, playfully shooting you a look of disbelief. “Second time’s the charm, maybe?” you try to lift his spirit up, although not without snickering in the middle of your words. You watch him try again, this time with a bit more focus. The second ring lands perfectly around a bottle, and you both cheer in unison. “You did it! See what I meant by second time’s the charm?” you exclaim, clapping your hands.

“Beginner’s luck,” he says modestly, but you can clearly see the pride in his eyes. He hands you a ring. “Your turn.”

You take the ring, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Alright, let’s see if I can match your skills,” you say, positioning yourself in front of the bottles. Your first toss goes wide, completely missing the target. You laugh, shaking your head. “Please tell me no one saw that.” Seonghwa steps behind you, placing his hands gently on your shoulders. “Try aiming a bit lower,” he advises, his breath warm against your ear. His proximity sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you completely forget about the game you’re currently playing.

Following his advice, you adjust your aim and toss the ring. It flies through the air and lands around a bottle with a satisfying clink. “I did it!” you shout, turning to face him with a triumphant smile. “Nice job! Second time’s the charm indeed,” he says, giving you a high-five.

The booth attendant claps her hands together. “Congratulations! You both get to pick a prize.”

You look at the array of stuffed animals, keychains, and toys hanging above the booth. Your eyes land on a small, pink bunny plushie. “I’ll take that one,” you say, pointing at it. Seonghwa chooses a cute plush squirrel. “I think this little guy will keep me company,” he says, showing it to you with a grin.

Walking through the rest of the carnival games, you try your luck at various booths, from shooting water guns to popping balloons with darts. Each game is an adventure, filled with laughter and playful teasing. Seonghwa’s competitive side comes out, but he never lets the fun turn too serious. He’s always there with an encouraging word or a lighthearted joke whenever you miss a shot or drop a ring.

At one point, you find yourselves at a booth where you have to knock down stacked cans with a ball. Seonghwa lines up his shot, eyes narrowing in concentration. He throws the ball, and the cans topple with a satisfying crash. “Yes!” he exclaims, turning to you with a toothy grin.

“You’re on a roll today,” you tease, giving him a playful nudge. He laughs, a sound that blends seamlessly with the joyful noise around you. “Just lucky, I guess.”

As the evening progresses, you both accumulate a small collection of prizes: a rubber duck, a keychain, and a tiny toy car. Each one feels like a memento, a small token of the wonderful time you’re sharing.

Finally, you come across a photo booth, decorated with twinkling lights and festive banners. “We have to take a picture,” Seonghwa insists, pulling you towards it. You step inside the booth, squeezing together on the small bench. The screen flashes a countdown, and you both make silly faces for the camera. The machine whirs and clicks, producing a strip of photos that capture your laughter and joy.

Seonghwa looks at the photos, smiling fondly. “We look good together,” he says, handing you the strip.

For a moment, you had to do a double take and make sure you heard him correctly.

“Don’t we?”

You did.

You take the photos without a word, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. You decide not to bring it up for now, as you’re certain that if you do, you might very well start showing signs of being qualified enough to be put in a psych ward. As you move from one attraction to another, the crowd seems to grow thicker. The once exhilarating hustle and bustle starts to feel overwhelming. Seonghwa immediately notices the shift in your demeanor. He gently places a hand on your arm, leaning in to ask, “Are you alright? We can find a quieter spot if you need a break.”

You appreciate his concern, shaking your head. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I want to push myself to get used to these kinds of experiences. Besides, I’m having a great time with you,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile. Seonghwa hesitates for a moment, clearly worried, but nods in understanding. “Alright, but remember, we can always step away if it gets too much.”

Seonghwa guides you through the festival crowd, his hand hovering near your elbow to ensure you don’t get separated. You find yourselves in front of a small stage where performers, dressed in vibrant hanbok, are preparing for a traditional dance. The area is buzzing with anticipation, and a soft hum of excitement fills the air.

“Let’s sit over there,” Seonghwa suggests, pointing to a spot near the front but off to the side where the crowd is slightly thinner. You both make your way over and settle down on a blanket spread out for spectators. The moment you sit, you feel a bit more relaxed, grateful for the brief respite from the overwhelming throng of festival-goers. The performers take their places, and the music begins. The rhythmic beats of the janggu and the soothing melodies of the daegeum fill the air. The dancers move gracefully, their sleeves flowing like water with each elegant gesture. You can’t help but be mesmerized by the beauty and precision of their movements.

“This is amazing,” you whisper, leaning slightly towards Seonghwa so he can hear you over the music. “Have you ever done anything like this?” you ask. Seonghwa’s eyes are fixed on the stage, but he turns to you with a soft smile. “Not traditional dances like this, but I did dance in high school—like I told you yesterday. I leaned onto modern styles more, though.”

“I’d really love to see you dance sometime,” you muse as your eyes fixate on the dancers.

A blush creeps up Seonghwa’s cheeks, and he chuckles softly. “Now, that’s one thing I can’t promise you.”

The performance continues, each movement more captivating than the last. You’re drawn into the story the dancers are telling, feeling the emotions conveyed through their expressions and steps. Seonghwa seems equally entranced, his gaze following the dancers with admiration. At one point, a dancer spins close to the edge of the stage, and the flow of her hanbok sends a breeze in your direction. The cool air is a welcome relief from the warmth of the crowd, and you take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

Seonghwa leans closer, his shoulder brushing against yours ever so slightly. “Do you come to festivals like this often?” he asks, his voice gentle. You shake your head. “Not really. I’m not great with crowds, to be honest. I’ve been having a lot of fun so far, though.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both watch the dancers. You can feel the heat from Seonghwa’s body next to yours, and the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. You sneak a glance at him, and catch him doing the same. Both of you quickly look away, a small, awkward laugh escaping your lips.

The performance reaches its climax, the music growing louder and more intense. The dancers move with even greater fervor, their expressions fierce and passionate. The audience claps along, the energy infectious. You join in, feeling a sense of unity with the people around you, despite the usual discomfort crowds bring. When the performance finally ends, the dancers take a bow, and the audience erupts in applause. You clap enthusiastically, genuinely moved by the beauty and skill of the performance. Seonghwa joins in, his smile broad and genuine.

“That was incredible,” you say, turning to Seonghwa once the applause dies down. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He looks at you, his eyes warm and earnest. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I always find these performances inspiring. They remind me of the passion and dedication that goes into art.” You nod, feeling a deep appreciation for the experience. “It’s amazing how something so traditional can still feel so powerful and relevant today.”

After the performance, Seonghwa suggests visiting a section of the festival dedicated to local history. “How about we check out the historical exhibits? It’s usually less crowded and quite interesting,” he proposes. You nod eagerly, welcoming the idea of a quieter area. “That sounds perfect. Lead the way.”

The transition from the lively stage area to the more subdued history section is like entering a different world. The noise of the crowd fades into the background, replaced by a calm atmosphere filled with the soft murmur of people quietly reading plaques and admiring exhibits. The path leads you through a series of well-curated displays. Old photographs of the town, artifacts from bygone eras, and detailed descriptions of significant events line the way. The lighting is dimmer here, casting a warm, almost nostalgic glow over everything.

Seonghwa stops in front of a large mural depicting the town’s founding. “Did you know our town was established over a hundred years ago?” he asks, his voice low and reverent as if he’s afraid to disturb the solemnity of the place. You shake your head, genuinely intrigued. “Really? Tell me more.”

He gestures to the mural. “It started as a small trading post. The river nearby made it a key location for trade and transport. Over time, it grew into the town we know today.” As he speaks, you find yourself drawn not just to the history but to the way Seonghwa talks about it. His passion and knowledge are evident, and it’s clear this is something he cares about deeply.

“Wow,” you say, genuinely impressed. “You know so much about this place. It’s fascinating.” He smiles, a little bashful. “I guess I’ve always had a thing for history. There’s something about understanding where we come from that makes me appreciate the present more.”

You both move to the next exhibit, a collection of personal items donated by long-time residents. There are old letters, pieces of clothing, and even some tools that were used in the early days of the town. Each item has a story, and Seonghwa takes his time explaining the significance of some of the more interesting pieces.

“This letter,” he says, pointing to a yellowed piece of paper under glass, “was written by one of the first schoolteachers here. She talks about the challenges of teaching in a one-room schoolhouse and how the children were so eager to learn despite having so little resources and space.”

You lean in closer to read, feeling a strange connection to the past through this small window into someone’s life. “It’s amazing to think about how much things have changed, yet some things stay the same. Like how the desire to learn and grow is still here.” Seonghwa nods thoughtfully. “Exactly. That’s what I love about history. It shows us that despite all the changes, there are fundamental things about being human that never change.”

As you continue to explore, you reach a display about traditional festivals and celebrations in the town’s history. There are photos of past festivals, similar to the one you’re attending, with people in traditional clothing, dancing, and celebrating. “Look at this,” Seonghwa says, pointing to a black-and-white photograph of a festival from the 1950s. “It’s amazing how festive and vibrant these events have always been.”

You smile at the picture, noticing the joyful expressions on the people’s faces. “It’s nice to see that some traditions continue. It kinda makes you feel connected to those who came before us.” There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both absorb the stories and artifacts around you. The air is filled with a sense of nostalgia, and for a moment, it feels like you’ve stepped back in time.

“This is proving to be worth the while. I’ve lived here all my life, but I’ve never taken the time to really learn about the town’s history,” you say softly, turning to Seonghwa. His eyes soften as he looks at you. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s nice to share something I care about with someone who appreciates it.”

There’s a brief moment where your eyes meet, and you feel a flutter in your chest. The connection you felt earlier seems to deepen, and you’re suddenly very aware of the closeness between you. It’s not quite romantic, but it’s undeniably charged with the possibility of something more. You clear your throat, breaking the moment. “Shall we move on to the next exhibit?” you suggest, trying to steady your voice.

Seonghwa nods, his own composure returning. “Oh, uh, right.”

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the festival, Seonghwa leads you towards the towering Ferris wheel. The giant, illuminated structure stands as a beacon against the twilight sky, its lights twinkling invitingly. Seonghwa turns to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the evening. “How about a ride on the Ferris wheel? The view from the top is spectacular.”

You nod, your excitement evident. “Sure, that sounds amazing.”

You both join the line, which is surprisingly short at this hour. The anticipation builds as you inch closer to the front. Seonghwa's presence beside you is comforting, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, appreciating how the soft light accentuates his features. Finally, it’s your turn. The operator opens the gate, and you step into one of the small, enclosed cabins. Seonghwa follows, and as he sits down opposite you, the cabin gently rocks, adding to the thrill.

The door closes, and with a slight jolt, the Ferris wheel begins its ascent. You lean back, watching the ground slowly fall away, replaced by a breathtaking panorama of the festival below. The lights, the music, and the laughter all blend into a vibrant mixture of color and sound. “Wow,” you breathe, eyes wide with wonder. “This really is incredible.”Seonghwa smiles, his gaze fixed on you more than the view outside. “I’m glad you like it. I thought this would be a perfect way to end the day.”

You share a quiet moment, the only sounds being the soft hum of the Ferris wheel and the distant murmur of the festival. The higher you climb, the more the world below transforms into a magical scene. You can see the entire festival sprawled out beneath you, every booth and ride lit up like stars in the night. The soft rays of the golden hour color your face as you lean towards the window to look at the scenery painted in front of your very own eyes. “It’s beautiful,” you say softly.

Seonghwa’s gaze radiates fondness, and he leans slightly forward, his eyes focused on you.

“Yeah… it really is.”

The cabin reaches the top, and for a moment, it pauses. You both take in the breathtaking view. The horizon stretches out, painted in shades of purple and gold, while the festival below looks like a miniature wonderland. The quietness of the moment feels almost sacred. As you sit there, suspended high above the ground, the gentle swaying of the cabin creates an intimate bubble. There’s a comfortable silence between you, filled with unspoken thoughts and shared glances. Seonghwa shifts slightly, his knee brushing against yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks. You catch Seonghwa’s eyes again, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“Today felt… different, somehow,” Seonghwa says, breaking the silence. “I’ve been to this festival so many times, but this is the first time I’ve truly enjoyed it. You know, I think it’s because of you.” His words catch you off guard, and you feel your heart skip a beat. "Oh… really?” you pause, unsure what to say next. If only you could telepathically send Wooyoung a cry for help.

You then decide it’s time to stop holding back and just express what your heart yearns to express. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’m glad I could be here with you.”

The Ferris wheel starts its descent, but the moment feels far from over. You both sit in comfortable silence, absorbing the experience. As the cabin slowly lowers, you find yourself wishing the ride could last just a little longer. When you reach the ground, the operator opens the door, and you step out, the cool evening air a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the cabin.

You clutch the bunny plushie in your hands, turning to look at Seonghwa with a bright smile on your face. “Well, that really was a perfect way to end the day.”

“Glad you think so as well,” he says, looking around the place. “Thanks for playing a huge part in making my day better.”

Seriously, when was he going to stop with the unexpected heart-stopping comments?

As the night deepens, Seonghwa keeps his promise and walks you home, both of you reminiscing about the day’s highlights. The conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. You recount the funny moments at the shooting gallery, the unexpected camaraderie at the food stalls, and the magical experience on the Ferris wheel. Each memory cements the bond growing between you.

Finally, you reach your apartment building. You turn to Seonghwa, feeling slightly nervous. Gathering your courage, you say, “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you again.”

Your confidence wavers slightly, but then Seonghwa’s smile brightens, and he replies warmly, “Neither would I.”

You do your best to hold back your excitement until you reach your apartment door. Opening it, you’re greeted by the sight of Wooyoung lounging on your sofa, engrossed in a movie. The moment he notices you, he quickly sits up, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Well?” he demands, unable to contain his excitement. “Tell me everything!”

Boy, was he in for a ride.

****

The next few days pass by in a blur. Seonghwa stops by every day to help with the decorations, his presence becoming a comforting constant. Sometimes Yunho and Wooyoung join in, turning the task into a fun, collaborative effort. With each passing day, your bond with Seonghwa deepens. His kindness, his humor, and everything else about him you’ve grown to be fond of makes you realize something profound: you’re not just harboring a crush anymore.

You are head over heels in love.

Valentine’s Day finally arrives, and you can hardly contain your excitement to see how they’ve placed the decorations. Seonghwa mentioned a special occasion at the café that evening, piquing your curiosity, but he remained tight-lipped about the details. All you know is that you’re in for a surprise.

As the afternoon progresses, you call Wooyoung over to help you decide what to wear. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” Wooyoung says, rifling through your closet with a critical eye. He pulls out a few options, laying them out on your bed. “What’s the vibe tonight? Romantic, casual, or somewhere in between?” You bite your lip, considering. “I’m not really sure what to expect. Seonghwa didn’t give me any hints about the event. He just said it’s special.”

Wooyoung smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Special, huh? Sounds like he’s planning something big. You might want to go with something that says ‘effortlessly stunning.’”

He picks out a chic, knee-length dress that balances elegance with a touch of casual charm. “This,” he declares, holding it up. “And maybe those heels to go with it. What do you think?” You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Perfect. Thanks, Woo.”

As you start getting ready, Wooyoung searches the internet for a matching hairstyle. “How about this?” he suggests, showing you an image on his phone. “It’ll complement the dress without looking too overdone.”

After showering, you open the bathroom door to find Wooyoung meticulously laying out the outfit on your bed. He turns to you with a playful grin. “Fashion designers should be glad I chose to be a dancer.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’ve definitely got an eye for fashion. Maybe you missed your calling, Edna Mode.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. “I hope it goes well.”

“It will,” Wooyoung assures you. “Seonghwa wouldn’t go through all this trouble if it didn’t mean something to him. Now go knock ‘em dead.”

Before you leave, you sit on the bed and sigh exasperatedly. Wooyoung, noticing your sudden change in demeanor, asks, “What’s the matter?” You take a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I’m feeling so nervous.” Wooyoung furrows his brow. “Nervous? Why?”

You bite your lip, torn between keeping your plan a secret and confiding in your best friend. But then again, you could never keep your mouth shut—especially not around Wooyoung. Finally, you blurt out, “I’m planning on finally sealing the nail in the coffin and confessing my feelings to Seonghwa.”

“Well, it was about time, anyway,” he says, shrugging. “If anything, I’m pretty sure he already knows. Do you even know how painfully obvious you are?”

You land a harsh hit on his shoulder, making him wince in pain. “Ow! Okay, okay, sorry! But seriously, you’ll be fine. If things don’t go as planned, I’ll be here for you.” You let out a heavy sigh, shaking your head. “I really don’t think I can do it, Woo. I mean, what if it’s all in my head? Like, what if every moment we’ve spent together is all but a walk in the park for him—what if it all holds no meaning to him? I don’t want to embarrass myself, but if I don’t confess my feelings sooner, I swear I’ll go insane.”

“Wow, you really are head over heels.”

“That’s all you have to say?!”

“No, but seriously,” he adjusts his sitting position on the bed turning to face you, “I really don’t think you should let your concerns get the best of you—not tonight. Think of it as a now or never moment. Just let go of all these worries you’re carrying with you, okay? We might not know what his answer may be for sure, but whatever happens, I promise you it’s always better to express your feelings rather than to bottle it up.”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Then, all of a sudden, a light bulb appears above your head. “Hey, Woo,” you start, turning your head towards him, “maybe you could just come with me there?”

“Are you saying you want me to be your emotional support for the night?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Well, yeah, kinda.”

“I mean,” he shrugs, “The outfit I’m wearing is too stylish to just be wasted on rotting in your apartment, anyway.”

“Is that a yes?” you beam, eyes lighting up with a smile just as wide.

“Yeah. I’ll be sitting at a different table, though—just so you can have your moments with Seonghwa.”

****

You both arrive at the café, and it is nothing short of beautiful. The decorations you and Seonghwa painstakingly crafted are perfectly placed throughout the space—you really should give yourself a pat on the back. From the outside, you notice a flurry of activities. Notes are plastered all over the windows, and you can faintly see a photobooth backdrop at the very back. “Woo, we totally have to take pictures there before the event ends,” you say excitedly.

“Absolutely,” Wooyoung grins. “Let’s make sure we get some good ones.”

You both step inside, and Wooyoung keeps his promise, separating from you. “Catch you later,” he says, spotting Yunho sitting at one of the tables and immediately heading towards him. Left alone, you feel a wave of anxiety as you scan the room for a vacant seat, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance. You take a deep breath, smoothing your outfit and hoping you look as good as you feel. Just as you’re about to continue your search, you hear someone call your name from the counter.

You turn your head towards the sound, and your breath catches in your throat. Seonghwa stands there, framed by the warm, ambient light of the café. His dark hair is perfectly styled, soft strands falling just right to accentuate his sharp features that gives him the kind of face people would go to war for if combined altogether. He’s wearing a tailored shirt that fits him like a glove, highlighting his broad shoulders and lean frame. The soft smile on his lips, combined with the sparkle in his eyes, makes your heart skip a beat. For a moment, everything else fades away into the background, and you’re completely entranced by his beauty. The way he effortlessly exudes both charm and warmth leaves you momentarily speechless, and you can’t help but feel a rush swelling within you.

He starts walking towards you, and for a moment, you debate on whether you should shamefully leave and make a run for it or shoot your shot. But then, Wooyoung enters your line of sight, his gaze immediately setting your priorities straight—it’s the latter or nothing.

“You look beautiful,” is the first thing Seonghwa says, and you swear your knees almost give up on you. You manage to compliment him as well, and he leads you to a table. Not just any table—you recognize it as the one you were sitting at that time he gave you your order and you awkwardly said, “thanks, you too.” You joke about how he probably chose the table on purpose.

What you didn’t expect was for him to actually confirm your joke. “I did,” he says with a smile. “I reserved this seat just for us.” For a moment, it feels like you’re both a couple on their nth date and not two people navigating the waters of a budding romance. As you sit down, you compliment the way they incorporated your decorations into the café. “The interior looks amazing,” you say, glancing around. “You guys did a great job.”

Seonghwa smiles appreciatively. “Thank you for your effort. This event wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

It’s funny, because he has no idea he’s the sole reason behind your unwavering determination to finish all the decorations without procrastinating at times in between.

You place your order, and Seonghwa jokes, “It feels weird not serving you and instead actually sitting across from you. I’m not used to this.” You raise an eyebrow. “Not used to what exactly?”

He clears his throat, brushing off the question. “Just... not used to this kind of setting.”

From a distance, you catch sight of Wooyoung and Yunho engrossed in a conversation at a faraway table. Wooyoung suddenly wriggles his eyebrows while looking at you, making you blush and clear your throat. Seonghwa notices and asks, “What’s the matter?”

For a moment, you feel your worries get the best of you, but you immediately brush them off, deciding to follow Wooyoung’s advice to let your feelings show. “I just feel a bit nervous,” you admit, looking down at your hands. Seonghwa immediately becomes concerned, flashing you a look of worry. “Why?”

Just as you’re about to answer and confess your feelings, his manager calls for him from the back kitchen. “I’m so sorry,” Seonghwa says, standing up quickly. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

While he’s away, you shift closer to the window, drawn to the heart-shaped notes stuck on it. As you read them, you notice each note begins with a capitalized letter written in red, while the rest of the words are in black. You begin reading them one by one:

Sometimes, my heart beats faster just thinking of you.

Every moment with you feels like a precious gift.

Over time, I’ve come to cherish you more than I can say.

Never have I felt so alive as when I’m with you.

Glimpses of your smile light up my world.

Holding onto these feelings, I hope you feel the same.

With you, I see a future filled with happiness.

And every day, I fall in love with you even more.

As you finish reading, you feel a surge of courage. You glance back over the notes, this time paying attention to the red letters. Slowly, it dawns on you. The capitalized red letters spell out: SEONGHWA.

Seonghwa returns just as you connect the dots, and you turn away from the notes on the window to look at him. He sits across from you, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. The air feels charged with an overflowing tension.

“Seonghwa, is this...?” you start, your voice showing hints of hesitance.8Seonghwa takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yes, it is,” he says softly, a shy smile evident on his lips. “I’ve… been wanting to tell you this for a while.”

He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “You know, it all started when we played the whisper game with Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang. I remember watching you laugh, your eyes lighting up when you realized the keyword was the Gingerbread Man, and something about that moment stuck with me. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. After that, I just found myself unconsciously looking forward to seeing you around, noticing the little things that make you who you are. Like, you know, the way you scrunch your nose when you're focused, or how your eyes sparkle when you talk about something you love.”

Seonghwa’s voice grows more tender, his emotions clearly surfacing. “And before I even realized it, I was falling head over heels. Every interaction, every smile, every word you spoke, it all just… drew me in deeper. I was in a tough battle with my feelings, unsure of how to approach you, worried about ruining the friendship we were building, worried about making you feel uncomfortable.”

“But during the festival,” Seonghwa continues, “when we rode the Ferris wheel and you were looking out the window with that beautiful smile on your face as the golden hues of the sunset painted you... that’s when I knew. I knew I was really in love. I saw you bathed in that light, so serene and happy, and it hit me like a speeding truck just how deeply I felt for you.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze softer than the calm waves of the sea. “You’ve made my life so much more colorful, and I don’t think you even realize it. Your presence brings a kind of warmth and joy that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Every day, I find myself looking forward to the moments I get to spend with you, even if it’s just for a little while. You have this incredible ability to make everything better, just by being, well, you.”

Seonghwa sighs, running a hand through his wavy hair. “I couldn’t keep battling with my feelings any longer. I’m into you, like seriously, really into you. I’m in love with you, and I really, really want to be yours.”

You both stare at each other, unsure what to do next. You couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“Can you step on my feet below the table with your heel, please? Just so I know that I’m not making this all up in my head,” you say, and Seonghwa laughs.

“You’re not,” he starts, and for a moment, you nearly assume he was actually going to step on your feet. Instead, he reaches for your hand laying down on the table. “See? This is as real as it can be.”

His touch is warm and reassuring, and it washes all your worries away completely. You take a deep breath, feeling a wave of courage wash over you. “If this is what we’re doing, then I have something to tell you, too.”

His gaze focuses on you, ready to listen to whatever you have to say. Nervousness was written all over his face—what would your answer be?

“I’ve… I’ve actually liked you all along. Well, at first, it was just a silly little crush. You know, admiring you from afar and thinking you were just really handsome and kind.” You see his eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t let go of your hand, his thumb gently stroking the back of it.

“But then,” you continue, “I started talking to you, getting to know you, and it became so much more. I started to fall deeper and deeper, and before I knew it, I was in love. Every time I see you, it’s like the day just brightens up. Your presence makes everything better, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“I’ve been in a pretty bad place for quite a while,” you admit, your voice softening. “Losing my mom... it left me feeling so lost and hopeless. I used to wake up feeling like there was a gray cloud over me, like the world had lost its color. But then, you came along. Your presence brought a warmth and brightness that I didn’t even realize I was missing. With you, the world started to seem vibrant again. Your smile is like sunshine breaking through the clouds, your laughter like music that drowns out the silence of my sadness. Every moment with you adds a splash of color to my life, turning my grayscale days into something beautiful and vivid.”

Seonghwa’s eyes glisten with emotion as he takes in your words. He squeezes your hand gently, his smile radiating warmth and affection. “I had no idea,” he whispers, and you wonder just how oblivious exactly he is, because you swear you’ve accidentally aired yourself out more than you’ve successfully hid your feelings for him.

“But hearing this from you... it makes me so happy. I’m glad I could bring some light into your life because you’ve done the same for me.”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still as you share the moment, both of you still in shock over the fact that your feelings are mutual. The air around you feels charged with unspoken promises and perhaps even the beginning of something beautiful. Seonghwa smiles, a mixture of happiness and anticipation in his eyes.

“So, where do we go from here?” he asks, a hint of playful curiosity in his voice. You think it’s cute how he sounds so excited.

You smile back, looking forward to the future just as much as he does—perhaps even more. “Wherever this journey takes us,” you say. “Together.”

“Together,” he echoes.

As you both bask in the moment, you glance over Seonghwa’s shoulder and catch sight of Wooyoung and Yunho across the café. They’re watching you with proud smiles and teasing looks plastered on their faces. You can’t help but snicker, causing Seonghwa to turn and see what’s up. He sighs in amusement upon seeing Wooyoung and Yunho’s expressions.

“You know,” you say, turning back to Seonghwa, “I think I finally get why Valentine’s Day is such a crowd favorite.”

He laughs softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah, I think I do too.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the warm ambiance of the café, the festive decorations you both worked so hard on, and the comforting presence of Seonghwa, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

🪞 — lividstar.

[vroomian]

Oc usopp hanging around buggy being Incredibly Concerning

[deadsetobsessions]

I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?

——

After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.

“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.

He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!

Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.

“Thank Ancients!”

Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.

With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.

A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.

As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.

His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.

How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!

Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.

“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”

Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.

——

“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.

“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”

“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”

“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”

Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.

A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.

"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"

The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"

"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.

"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"

"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”

Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”

"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"

The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.

Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!

"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!

“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”

“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”

Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.

"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.

Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.

"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.

"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"

"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."

"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."

Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."

"Who is the leader now?"

Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."

"Flash."

"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"

"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."

"Flash."

"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.

"Ugh, fine. No one video this."

Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."

The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.

"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."

"What do you want in exchange for information?"

Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."

He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.

"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."

"I have cash."

Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.

The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."

Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."

"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.

Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."

"Identity." Batman demanded.

"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."

"...What."

"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."

The crown of ice materialized.

"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.

"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"

Batman growled. "You tricked us."

Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."

The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.

"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"

"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[ambrosiagourmet]

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

[eyepatchcrow]

i’ve been obsessed with hadestown for years now and finally got to see it yesterday on the west end, so here is a non-exhaustive, mostly in order list of things i loved:

- hermes ‘aiiiight’ ing the audience at the start

- the fates looking offended when hermes says they’re all dressed the same

- orpheus getting distracted and forgetting to greet the audience as he’s introduced

- irish orpheus and midlands eurydice healed something in me

- the fates all the time always, actually

- persephone and eurydice’s little moment of connection as persephone tells her to take what she can and make the most of it

- the trombonist dancing with the chorus during his solo

- orpheus and the cast looking out to the audience in a beat of silence as they toast the world we live in now

- everybody collectively gagging at the wine

- eurydice pushing orpheus right across the stage as she sings how she wants to hold him tight

- orpheus swooping in and popping up like a meerkat between hades and eurydice when she draws his attention

- hades putting on his dark glasses in order to immediately take them off at eurydice in hey little songbird

- eurydice holding the coins/ticket to hell out to hermes twice during chips are down and hermes only taking them on the third time

- hermes and persephone flirting at the start of act 2

- persephone not sharing her hip flask and hermes acting all offended until she gives them some

- every reference to hermes’ gender is gone

- hermes

- melanie la barrie

- hades’ slutty little strut on the revolve

- the absolute raw grief and anger and desperation in if it’s true, dónal absolutely killed it

- hades dad dancing

- hades burying his face in persephone’s shoulder after they reconcile

- orpheus’ adorable delighted ‘yes!!’ after eurydice tells him he’s done it

- the chorus’s cute af reaction when orpheus ’proposes’ eurydice to walk home with him

- orpheus’ fidgety, reaching hands as he walks and doubts (devastating)

- the centre of the revolve dropping away the MOMENT orpheus turns, almost before he’s actually set eyes on her. she’s already gone

- orpheus’ voice break on eurydice’s name as she vanishes (DEVASTATING)

- orpheus just sobbing by the gaping hole where eurydice’s gone as the theatre is in total silence (SHOOT ME ALREADY)

- the stage being set in the last minutes to match how it was when the show began. we’re really going to sing it again, aren’t we. there’s nothing else to be done

also do NOT get me started on the set and lighting design bc holy shit you guys it was PHENOMENAL. i so want to see it again to look for all the little details i inevitably missed

[paymechildsupport]

Teacher!Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Reader // Teacher!Sukuna HC's <3

(THIS IS NOT STUDENT X TEACHER, READER IS NOT A STUDENT!)

Personally, I think it’s an actual crime there isn’t more teacher!sukuna content out there. I’ve only ever seen one fan art of it, and ever since I’ve been scrounging around on my hands and knees to find more

So m’ gonna just do it myself 🙏 

-!! [AFAB + AMAB] READER (HC’s involving reader’s bodily autonomy have both a female and male vers. → brief smut drabble at the end)    [everyone's in on this one👏]

-!! Reader is a rather powerful sorcerer 

-!! CW: Slight possessiveness (mainly for the short smut at the end → overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight size kink(?), mention of double cocks for og form Sukuna)

-!! Veeeery slight nod to manga spoiler if you squint. If you don’t know it 99% certain you won’t pick up on it

-!! Sukuna being a bit of a softy for his SO

3k+ words

————

————

Awhile (around a good few centuries) ago, Ryomen Sukuna came to the conclusion that no, this was in fact not the way he wanted to live his life. He decided to put everything behind him; the bloodshed, the death, the massacres, and cannibalisms— (okay maybe that stayed the same)— all the things that essentially made his staple as the King of Curses. He’s a changed curse, he swears it. Honestly? Human food? Not that bad. Kinda worth changing his world view for 

With a changed work ethic, and a changed heart, Ryomen Sukuna made the conscious decision to become a teacher, — specifically a teacher in sorcery

—————-

Ryomen Sukuna works at Jujutsu Tech,-- the infamous King of Curses, who predominantly spends most of his days helping ungrateful brats obtain the necessary skills to kill his kind

→”No, you thick-skinned brat, you’re doing it all wrong!”

    “I’m sorry, Sukuna-sensei! I’m trying,--.. I really am! Could you maybe go over it one more time–”

             “No! You’re going to die all alone as your friends are tortured mercilessly!”

“How could you say that…” 🥺 

Following the fateful passing of Yuji Itadori’s grandpa, the poor kid awakened as a sorcerer with a rather nasty supply of cursed energy; a complete abnormality with an aura suspiciously like that of a certain Ryomen Sukuna… 

→ “The little brat is not living with me” 

“Awh, c’mon Sukuna-!! The kid’s a ticking time bomb to disaster, he needs help controlling his cursed energy, and who better to help than the amazing King of Curses himself!” 

“Shut up, Satoru Gojo.” 

“Ohoho~... looks like someone isn’t happy to become a single mother~~” 

“What-!? Single moth– fool, you yourself are a single mother” 

“...oh, yeah. Hehe… 😚”

“I hate it here…😒”  

Now, with the additional burden of personally attending to Yuji Itadori, there was only one thing keeping Ryomen Sukuna from completely imploding: 

You. His partner, his lover, his spouse, his anchor,-- the only source of light in his miserable, cursed life, – the sole person keeping him from reverting back to his old, murderous ways. 

Meeting a few years back, the ancient curse could’ve sworn the world got a dozen shades lighter the second his eyes landed on your form in the Tokyo crowd. Where everyone was actively moving away from his looming, intimidating hulk of a body, you looked at him with eyes void of the fear reflected off so many others. 

You approached him with interest, recognizing his unmistakable aura for that of the King of Curses, – and, to his utmost shock, – you proceeded to have a perfectly normal, civilized conversation with him. Never once did you look at him like you would a monster. Every time he’d get lost in those eyes of yours, never once did he find anything short of pure love and affection. It was sickeningly sweet. 

There on a mission, you introduced yourself as a fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

Ryomen Sukuna could’ve sworn he’d heard your name before: rather infamous with the higher-ups, you were a well-respected sorcerer. That only aided to his immense confusion: why would a sorcerer of such high esteem and all around regard even remotely think talking to him, the King of Curses, was a good idea? 

Absolutely flabbergasted and entranced from your first encounter, Ryomen Sukuna was practically completely at your mercy. It took very little for you to simply haul him over your shoulder and take him wherever; he’d soon become akin to a lost puppy with you. 

Ryomen Sukuna is absolutely down-horrendous with his emotions. Hah, communication? Never heard of her. 

He’s never felt this deep for anyone before, and it terrifies him to no end. You terrify him to no end,-- the amount of power you have over him could be almost comical. 

At the start, he flat out avoided you altogether. Anytime he’d see you on campus he’d immediately start in the opposite direction. Anytime you’d attempt to strike up a conversation something would come up,-- he’d have to go somewhere, or the brats had gotten themselves in trouble again. And when Satoru Gojo found out about his little “crush”...  oh boy, the teasing was lethal.

It wasn’t long before he craved your touch, and Ryomen Sukuna started to enter withdrawal from your presence. You were brutal, the poison continuously being pumped into his veins, – which was extra ironic, considering he was after all the King of Poisons, – how the actual hell did he end up in such a position? What have you done to him? 

Man, he was cooked. 

With a lot of time, and a heck of a lot of patience, did the curse finally allow himself to reveal more of himself to you. 

It’s never been easy, – even after you two were married did Ryomen Sukuna still suck absolute ass at communicating his wants. 

He craved your attention, your gaze, your approval. You were the drug that he simply couldn’t get enough of. 

He’s not good with words, – in the past everything was just handed to him, – he had no clue how to actually work for someone’s affection. 

Please be patient with him, – he’s trying, he really is 🥺. No matter how much he denies it, no matter how much he complains he hates being dependent on someone, no matter how much he claims how meaningless love is, you both know deep down these feelings of deep admiration and affection aren’t one sided. Sometimes, that fact alone can get you through even his most frustrating of times. He pushes you away because he feels guilty, but almost immediately does he regret his actions and desire your presence more than anything. The things you do to him 

He lost his original form centuries ago, abandoning it after his near fatal confrontation with the sorcerers of the Heian Era. Gravely wounded, he absolved to staying hidden, laying low in the shadows. Sometimes he wished he still had that form, – still had his four arms, his two faces– he felt stronger, prettier in that body. Despite how much you told him how beautiful his current, two-armed form was, he wonders if you would’ve liked his original form– what it could do, how it could please your body. (But most of all he missed his two massive cocks to shove deep inside you–)

Ryomen Sukuna is very insecure about his image as the feared “King of Curses”. He’d be seen as weak, like he’d gone soft, – if anyone found out about you. That did little to deter you from showering him with your affections though <3 Even if he struggled to receive such affections–:

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing–” 

“What? Am I not allowed to visit my darling husband at his job?” 

“No- ..! Who exactly do you think you are, you can’t just waltz into wherever to embarrass me–” You were in an empty classroom in what would be the normal time for lunch. The students would be out eating, so it was only you and him.

“Is that really all you think I do? Embarrass you?” You fought to conceal the pained expression threatening to bubble up to the surface. 

“Yes! Do you know what they’ll think of me if they see me with you? He snaps angrily

“Are you.. Ashamed of me?” You blink 

“What-? No, of course not” His face contorts into a scowl 

“Then why can’t people see me with you?!” 

“That’s not what I meant–” He hisses 

“Yeah?” you retort, “then, what did you mean by that?” 

“I–....”  Ryomen Sukuna only ever seems to find himself short of words with you

Nodding curtly, “I’ll take my leave then” you make your way to the door 

“Wait-” you pause, he hated seeing you upset. It made him feel hopeless, it made him feel weak. “tsk, nevermind. Leave then” 

Huffing, you step out the door. Your second foot never even leaves the threshold before you’re lifted up by a pair of strong arms. 

“Gah-! Ryomen– what the hell?!” 

“Shut up.” the curse growls, placing you down on the nearest desk with a surprising gentleness, “just shut up.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck

You smile, accustomed to his brazenness, knowing this was him succumbing to his own affections for you.

“I’ll be quieter next time.” 

“Mmm… don’t be”

“Oh?” you quirk an eyebrow, “are you no longer embarrassed of being seen with me?” 

“No,” he grumbles, “if any pathetic worm dares to utter something against me, I’ll cleave their head off” 

Chuckling, “charming”

“I’ll do it for you too” that part he whispers, so low you almost miss it. Almost. 

“Awh, you’d slaughter anyone putting dirt on my name? And they say romance is dead 🥰” 

“Shut the hell up.” 

-------------

Sukuna Ryomen would have a special ringer set for you in his phone so whenever you’d text him he’d know it was you 

He never responds to anyone’s texts,-- anyone’s that’s not yours. 

The second he hears that notification that man is immediately scrolling. It took him years to figure out how to work a telephone,-- and he still kinda sucks at it. So it takes him a while to respond, – he’s just a slow typer :) 

He’ll be in the middle of sparring with Yuji for his training when he’ll hear your notification and swiftly whip out his phone, – still in the middle of fighting. Poor Yuji will still be sweating his ass off trying his very diddly darn hardest to land a singular punch and he won't even glance up from his phone 😭

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, – the guy could be in the middle of fighting a Special Grade and he’d start texting you about what he wants for dinner while simultaneously throwing slashes 😟

Not big on PDA, – but alone? Man, you can’t get the bastard off you, – blud’s clingier than a kitten 😭he just really likes being nice and snuggled up in your arms 

Alone, will often call you, – regardless of gender, – doll, (whore), sweetheart (if you’re not being a pain in the ass), – possessive lil’ shit and likes to add ‘my’ in front of any pet name, just to enforce the fact that you’re his. 

Calls you karasu –(Japanese word for raven) 

Sukuna Ryomen is incredibly picky with what he eats, (unless it’s your ass–)     – he needs his meals done in a very specific way, otherwise he’s just not eating. It needs to be your meals too. If bro forgets to bring lunch or you don’t have time to make one for him he just starves. He’s an absolute menace when hangry– super grumpy. None of the students can stand him hungry, – and he refuses to defile his delicate palette with fast food of all horrible things

You got some of those cute cookie cutters for sandwiches and gave him little star sandwiches one day for his lunch. Mans was over the fucking moon. His ass refuses to ever eat another sandwich again unless its cut into cute lil’ shapes 🤏🥺

Be careful if you ever decide to visit him at work after a certain amount of times, cuz he will make you useful: using you as a sparring partner, giving you chores, making an example out of you to the other students. 

You’re strong enough to hold your own against the King of Curses in a quick spar, – which really only means you won’t get immediately eviscerated upon throwing hands. 

You’re strong, but nowhere near as strong as Ryomen Sukuna. 

He’d only give you a cocky smirk, telling you to hurry up and lock in. You stare at the expecting faces of Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – who you naturally have grown a rather close bond to, being around each other so often. He gives you a reassuring thumbs up, smiling with an expectant glamor. You gulp, glancing back at your husband who has the most shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, you were cooked. 

You manage to successfully dodge at least two strong attacks before being thrown onto your ass, the wind knocked out of you. Huffing, you scramble up, irritation giving you newfound determination. The King only raises an eyebrow at you. 

You explode into a sprint, dashing up behind him, seemingly catching him off-guard. You lean in real close to his ear, whispering in a sultry tone: 

“Your shoelace is untied” 

“What, I’m not even wearing shoelaces–” and he gets thrown into the nearest tree, snapping it in half. 

“Hahah!!” 

“No way, Sukuna just got his ass handed to him!” Nobara exclaims, grinning

“That was so cool!” gushes Yuji, sending a wave of pride flowing through you at his excitement. 

It is short lived, as your husband comes up behind you, glaring with a burning passion in his eyes. 

“You totally beat him up, you sent him flying–” Megumi slaps a hand to Yuji’s mouth, his rambling getting choked off with a “mmph-!” 

His smile is laced with dynamite as Sukuna dismisses the students early. Confused, but mostly relieved, the trio scurry away, Nobara and Yuji shouting cheery goodbyes over their shoulders. 

Only you were close enough to see the raging lust in the King of Curse’s many eyes. His gaze rakes over your body, tensed in a fight or flight state, predatory. You swallow, hard, chuckling nervously, “Heheheh…”  

Oh man, you were so horribly, undoubtedly cooked. 

(short smut begins below line)

----------

[AFAB vers.]

Sukuna is brutal, hips smashing against yours, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, slamming himself particularly hard into your leaking heat, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the teacher’s desk– his desk–  in his empty classroom, – only being held by Sukuna’s deadly grip. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  he punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, a look of pure bliss on your face. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his long, cursed life. 

-------------

[AMAB vers.]

Sukuna is cruel, hips smashing against your ass, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. He fucks you, bent over the desk, – his desk, in his empty classroom,-- and shaking like a pathetic mutt. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, large hand closing around your swollen, throbbing cock. Your eyes widen in horror as he begins to jerk you off at a grueling pace, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the desk only held by Sukuna’s torso. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  He punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, syncing with a violent pump to your cock, limpand emptied out. “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. You're so drained, already milked dry, a few meager squirts of cum dripping from your cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, the look of utter worship on your face enough for him to harden once again inside of you. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his tedious, damned life. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sukuna brain-rot goes hard-!! He's such a goofy lil' guy, I love him :3

[evilminji]

:O !!! Wait a second... GHOST DINOSAURS!!!

They died. There are ghost animals. You CAN NOT tell me getting fuckin nuked from space by a GIANT rock that blasted you and everything you've ever known into near instantaneous oblivion, wouldn't leave some Unfinished Business and a shit ton of Ectoplasm.

BILLIONS of things died all at once.

Did most move on? Probably. We're any of them sentient? We have no idea! Maybe! Unlikely, but maybe! Still a MASSIVE, countries wide, molten earth lined, crater of instant death. World shaking and history making. Death in the blink of an eye.

If you're lucky.

But! I hear the arguments now. That was one event. The X or Y dinosaur lived before that! What I'm interested in came AFTER! Good points! But not RELAVENT!!! Because you know what ELSE that giant fuck-off meteor is good for? Aside for Death(tm)?

Television.

Makes for some damn good documentaries. Exciting graphics and neato visual effects. Ooooh~ look at our dramatic recreation! The cute baby animals, unsuspecting of their Doomed Fate~! Tense music! And now, a world from our advertisers!

You know who LIKES Space Documentaries? Danny. He's all ABOUT that Science Channel. Granted, they've been pulling more and more of these mid-tear "aliens built the pyramids" and "look at these swords!" Shows... but! Still! He grew up on this channel! He doesn't WANT to give up on it!

And, yeah, this is... kinda hammy... but it's still watchable!

He's enjoying the live tweeting from paleontologists who are ROASTING the thing to a lovely golden brown. Has choked on his noodles like three times already. It's great! But now? They are arguing over what the dinosaurs actually looked like again... and??

And, look, maybe it's the good mood and boredom. Maybe it's having the house to himself. Maybe it's his parents finally encouraging him to use his "ghostiness" for SCIENCE(tm)(!) the other day. Could even be his bad idea impulse acting up again, buuuuut.....

Teeeeechnically?

Nothing? Is STOPPING him? From finding out? He DOES have Zone compatible cameras. And can probably back trace where they should-ish be? He can find out. The colors might be off, but it's a starting point? Right? And heck, he's pretty sure inverse coloration in standard unless someone's shape-shifting, so he'd just have to inverse it AGAIN to get an approximately correct coloration for them!

....eh, as long as he leaves a "not exact, this was the best I could get" note, it should be fine.

Road Trip time! Better call Dani and see if she wants to ride a few giant mammals and some lizards!

(Needless to say? Some researchers get VERY exciting emails. And only accept they are POSSIBLE, because this is a DC crossover. So there is aliens and magic regularly popping up in their field of expertise, so WHY NOT? Just the other day, a whole ass TOWN that has been wiped out... got UN-wiped out! 23 years later! It's made headlines. Weird shit happens.

So gib. Release to them the Dinosaurs, mystery email man. Fork them over before they begin biting. You think this corduroy jacket means they won't hunt you down? HA! You know NOTHING of academics! WHERE ARE THE EXTINCT ANIMALS? Where are you hiding them!?!?)

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @nerdpoe @ailithnight @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[enha-stars]

✧ Invisible String — Soulmate AU

Pairing: non-idol!jay x fem!reader (fluff)

Summary: In a world where Soulmates exist, you never truly cared about the phenomenon. It would happen, and you would have no control over it. But when you visit your aunt in the winter, you realize that having a Soulmate isn’t so bad. Not when he’s so perfect for you.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, kissing, some swearing, suggestive, fluff, the smallest amount of angst if you squint (wc: 9.2k)

Soulmate Masterlist

The cold February air hugs you tight, kissing your cheeks softly as it paints your face cold. If you had known that it would be this chilly, you would have dressed warmer. 

But you didn’t know, because no one told you. 

It was a surprise trip your parents had planned, wanting to take a break from your mundane, ordinary lives. So they packed up the car and drove two hours south, stopping only when they reached your aunt’s driveway. 

Now, you were waiting on the sidewalk for your cousin. She had run in to grab her purse. Unconsciously, you rubbed the small J on your right wrist. Although you didn’t necessarily care for your Soulmate as much as everyone else did, you still found it slightly comforting.

Knowing he was out there. 

“Sorry!” Your cousin tumbled out of the front door, heaving. “Sorry. Your mom kept handing me money and my mom kept telling me not to take it.” She looked up at you, flushed and smiling. 

You grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Both your mothers, being sisters, often did things like this. It was funny to everyone else, but serious for them. You usually waited them out, knowing there was no point until they gave up. 

You waved your hand in dismissal, instantly dropping it. “Let’s go?” Your cousin had pitched the idea of going to the famous, local music restaurant and you jumped at the idea. You really couldn’t stand another family game night. 

You strolled down the road side by side as she caught you up on everything. You really did miss her. Being the same age, she always understood you. She knew of your impassiveness and you knew of her obsession. 

“Guess who found their Soulmate,” she asked you, her eyes wide. You laughed before you bit your lip in thought. You knew most of her friends, having grown up alongside her before your family moved. 

You shrugged, opting for her to just tell you. “No idea. Who is it?” 

She clapped her hands. “Heeseung!” At your raised eyebrows, she laughed. “I know, right? He went out with his parents last week and she was the hostess there. They’re actually really cute.” 

You nodded in surprise, a warm surge of something in your chest. It always happened when you heard of others finding their Soulmate. “That’s amazing. I’m happy for them. He was looking, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He kinda gave up but I guess fate had other plans.” She eyed you before glancing at your wrist, the one you were still rubbing. 

“What about you?” She tried to keep the intrigue out of her voice but you could see it in her eyes. She really wanted you to find your Soulmate, but you weren’t necessarily eager. She had found her Soulmate as soon as she turned eighteen, having been friends with him for years. 

You shrugged before dropping your wrist. “You know me. I’m not looking. If he finds me then I guess that’s it.”

She frowned, pursing her lips. “Y/n, you don’t have to sound so… defeated about it. It’s a good thing. It’s a beautiful thing.” She rubbed her wrist, the red S glowing. Before, she used to be very adamant about finding your Soulmate. But when you explained to her that not everyone grows up with their Soulmate, she understood. She was extremely lucky. 

You rolled your eyes, having heard this conversation many times before. “I know. It’s just… it makes me uncomfortable, you know? I’m just supposed to trust that this man is perfect for me?”

Your cousin nodded in understanding, because she did understand. You had always been the one who asked questions and wanted to remain independent. A lot of people were like you. It was hard to comprehend that the universe created two people perfect for each other. 

“Just,” she sighed as you neared the restaurant, “don’t push it away, okay? Don’t run from it. From what I’ve seen and gone through, it’s a really beautiful process. It’s like breathing for the first time.”

You nodded, opening the door for her. “I’m not against it. I’m just not super for it either. I’m just… indifferent. Yeah,” you smiled. “Indifferent.” 

She laughed before fixing her coat. She had texted her friends to meet at the restaurant and you were excited. You liked all her friends and some of them were really good singers and attractive. It had been a while since you had seen them, years for some, and you knew you would have a good time with them. You always did. 

Walking into the restaurant, you inhaled the sweet scent of wood and whiskey. Your eyes wandered, taking in the cabin-like furniture of the establishment before glancing at the bar, then at the stage. A band played their music while people sat and listened, some singing along and some just enjoying the atmosphere. This was your first time here since you became an adult, and you now understood why everyone loved it. It was just up your alley, dark and comfortable. 

Your cousin grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her friends, smiling and waving at them. You laughed at her excitement. She was more excited for you to see them than she was. She immediately made her way to Sunghoon, kissing him passionately. The day they had both turned eighteen changed everything. The only reason you had high expectations was because of them. 

They were truly perfect for each other. 

All her friends waved and greeted you both loudly, smiling. “You guys made it!” You smiled at Heeseung, having known him for years. He smiled at you before side-hugging you. He looked good. His eyes shined brighter and he had a permanent smile etched onto his lips. He patted your back before bear hugging your cousin. 

You greeted everyone else, hugging those you were close with and smiling at those you weren’t. Some faces you recognized; Jake and Jungwon. They greeted you warmly, glad you had come tonight. 

There was a man you didn’t recognize and you smiled at him as he introduced himself. “I’m Sunoo. It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

You laughed, finding him adorable. He had bright eyes and his black hair fell to his eyes. “Only good things, I hope.”

Sunghoon threw his arm around Sunoo and grinned at you, his fangs making an appearance. “Now, Y/n, you know that’s impossible.”

You grinned before slapping his shoulder. “I’m not completely terrible.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Say that to the hole in my wall.”

At his words, your eyes widened and your mouth dropped to the floor. Sunoo laughed in disbelief, slapping Sunghoo’s chest. “She’s the one who put the hole in your wall?” 

Sunghoon nodded, not looking displeased about it at all. In fact, he looked elated. 

You grimaced. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten that fixed yet. It’s been years.”

“It’s been one.”

You threw your hands up in shame, a sheepish smile on your face. “Okay, true. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know your walls were so weak.” 

Sunoo stared at you both, back and forth before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, what happened?”

You dropped your head when Heeseung threw his arm around you, grinning. “Are we talking about Y/n’s famous misadventures?” 

You shook your head as Sunoo and Sunghoon nodded. You hid your face in your hands as Heeseung and Sunghoon told Sunoo the story of you trying to do a handstand in his basement when you fell over, your foot crashing into the wall, making a hole in the center of the wall. 

You sighed and dropped your head back as the three laughed, a slow smile creeping onto your face at the sound. It was nice, being surrounded by jazz music and the laughter of your friends.

At the sound of laughter, your cousin, Jake, and Jungwon make their way over to you. You smiled at them as the other three lost their mind, howling over other mishaps you kept finding yourself in. You truly had a knack of getting into weird situations when you were in this town. 

“I’ll fix that hole in your wall for you,” you said. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you as his laughter turned into heavy breathing. “I’m serious. I know how.”

Your cousin nodded, resting her hand on your shoulder. She was so happy you were here with her, with her friends. With your friends. “She’s really good,” she agreed. “Y/n fixes up both our houses.” She narrows her eyes at Sunghoon and he crumbles.

Sunghoon crosses his arms. “Alright. How much?”

You shook your head. “Never bring up that story again?”

Jake laughed. “But it’s such a good story. One of our favourites, actually.”

Before you could answer, Jungwon smiled. “I’m sure we’ll have more stories to tell about Y/n before this week is over.”

At your deadpan look, Jungwon and Jake laughed before you all found your seats at the table. “I’m never coming back here. There’s a reason we moved and it’s because of all of you.” At your pout, Sunghoon pats your head. You allowed it only because of your cousin and the way she smiled up at him, all foolish and in love. 

“Alright, Y/n. If you fix the hole in my wall, I’ll never bring up the story again.” You both stared at each other before shaking on it. 

“By the way,” Heeseung said. “This deal only applies to Sunghoon.”

You smiled at Heeseung. “Die.”

He laughed before checking his phone. A stupid smile took over and you had a feeling that his Soulmate had texted him. You glanced at his wrist and stared at the red letter. That’s what happened when you found your soulmate and touched them for the first time. The black letter turned red and remained red. 

“Where’s Jay and Riki?” Your cousin asked Heeseung, passing a glass of water to you. You didn’t know who Jay or Riki were, but you assumed they would make an appearance before the end of the night. 

“Riki’s at practice and asked Jay to stay with him. They’ll be here soon.”

Your cousin nodded before leaning into you. “What do you wanna eat? I was thinking of onion rings.” You scanned the menu. “Hm. What about calamari?” Your cousin nodded, knowing you both were going to share, regardless. 

After the orders of food and drinks had been placed, Jake leaned back in his seat. “So, what’s up, Y/n? What have you been up to? It’s been what, a few months?”

You nodded, sipping on your water as the conversations picked up around you. “Yeah. It’s been a while. I’m good! Just finishing up school and working. Honestly, my life is pretty boring right now.” 

Jake and Sunoo nodded in understanding. Jake glanced at your wrist before smirking. “So, any news on the Soulmate?”

You rolled your eyes and showed him your wrist, your black letter on clear display. “Nope.” You eyed their wrists. “What about you guys?”

Jake and Sunoo both showed their wrists, their black letters vibrant against their fair skin. You watched as Jake lowered his wrist but Sunoo stared at his own, a twisted frown on his pink lips. He traced the letter once before dropping his wrist, staring at his water. 

You wanted to ask but you only met him today. When it came to Soulmates, some were more sensitive than others. It was a centuries old phenomenon but it never got easier to accept. You had an inkling that Sunoo was more sensitive than others. Instead, you smiled at him when he caught your eye. 

You tuned into the other conversation happening at the table and instantly sat straighter. Heeseung was recounting the night he met his Soulmate and you listened carefully. Although it happened all the time around you, the stories always made you melt. The ice beneath your exterior slowly breaking. 

“And then I touched her hand. I just brushed her hand but my entire body was on fire. Then our marks began to burn and they turned red. After that, well, we didn’t talk much.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Everyone laughed and your cousin shoved his shoulder, mumbling about having decorum. 

Only to have Sunghoon raise his eyebrow at his Soulmate, smirking. “We didn’t do much talking either, babe.” You wanted to gag just for the sake of it. 

“Did the burning hurt?” You furrowed your eyebrows. It was always different with certain people. Sometimes it burned in a cool, tingly way and sometimes it burned the way warm water on a cold day burned. For your cousin, she said it felt like a bucket of cold water had poured over her on a hot day. 

Heeseung shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. “Not at all. It burned the way an itch that you’ve finally scratched burns. It was like relief settled in my bones.”

The other listened carefully, despite having heard all of this before. Heeseung was lucky because he was young. Your letter appeared when you turned eighteen, and many people spent all their twenties finding their Soulmates. Now, he was the third person in their friend group to have found their lover. 

“And where is she?” Your cousin asked, shoving a piece of calamari in her mouth. Sunghoon smiled fondly at her, his hand resting on her thigh. They sat pressed together and you almost wondered why she wasn’t sitting on his lap but chose to ignore that thought. 

“She’s working tonight. Begged her to take the night off but it was too late.” His eyes were saddened but then he was smiling. “I’m seeing her later tonight.” 

The rest of the night was spent drinking and talking, with the occasional performance by Heeseung and Jake. The night was filled with warmth; constant laughter and conversation flowed with the help of drinks and snacks. Your cheeks felt warm and your stomach was full. This was the most fun you had in a while and you were so thankful. 

As it neared midnight, you stood from your seat, blinking the haze from your eyes. Your cousin and Sunghoon, along with Heeseung and his Soulmate, had been on the makeshift dance floor for a while. All the couples swayed to the music, carelessly in love. You had spent the better part of your evening with Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. They made amazing company and you couldn’t stop laughing. You stumbled and Jake reached out, steadying you. You smiled at him before walking towards the dance floor.

You nudged Sunghoon’s shoulder and grinned at him when he raised an eyebrow at you. You stared at him before you slapped his forehead. Your mind was a bit fuzzy from all the music and the ambiance. “Can I have her back? We should get home.”

Sunghoon groaned into your cousin’s hair, refusing to stop swaying. Your cousin laughed before pulling away from him, kissing his cheek. “She’s right, baby. We gotta go.” 

Heeseung caught your eye and waved at you, blowing you an exaggerated kiss and his Soulmate smiled at you before they went back to dancing.

Sunghoon sighed before nodding, he flicked your forehead before pulling you both back to the table. You said your goodbyes, kissing and hugging the boys. Jake ruffled your hair before making you promise to hangout with them again. Jungwon kissed your cheek and told you to let him know when you planned to fix Sunghoon’s wall. Sunoo hugged you and asked for your number. Your cousin promised to make another group chat, one with everyone. You smiled at Riki, finding the teenager adorable. You met him today but you already loved him. He grinned at you, giving you a thumbs-up. 

Sunghoon drove you both back home, mumbling about curfews and the time. You barely listened as you sat in the back, staring out the window. It had been a good day. A really good day.  

Parking in your driveway, you stepped out of the car, blowing Sunghoon a kiss and flipping him off. You chose to ignore the makeout session as you stepped into your aunt’s home, hoping everyone was asleep. 

They were.

After a few minutes, your cousin stumbled through the front door, frowning at the ledge she always tripped over. You both giggled before trying to quietly make your way to her bedroom. 

You both passed out side by side, makeup only wiped off and clothes thrown aside. It will be a good week. 

Jay slowly opened the basement door with his foot, balancing the tray carefully on his left hand as he adjusted his sweater with his right hand. He thought this was all unnecessary but Heeseung insisted, and well, he had a hard time refusing him. 

Heeseung had chastised Jay for skipping the other night instead of showing up with Riki. The younger boy, while only allowed on one side of the restaurant, showed up despite being exhausted. Jay had no excuse besides not being in the mood. So, here he was. Holding a tray full of all their favourite finger foods because he was pathetic. 

Sighing, he slowly walked down the stairs. He had told Sunghoon so many times to let him add carpet to the stairs but he always refused. Something about authenticity and aesthetic. Jay could hear their chatter and his small frown curled upwards. Despite his sighing, he was happy. It was cold out today but the sun shone brightly and all his friends were together. 

As soon as Jay stepped onto the cold basement floor, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He told Riki and Jungwon to help Sunghoon cleanup but it didn’t seem like they did. The faint smell of Chinese food lingered in the air and he sighed. He’d have to open a window. 

Jake spotted him first and threw his head back in relief, his hand on his stomach. “Thank god, man. I’m starving.” 

Jay raised an eyebrow as he set the tray down on Sunghoon’s only table. “You’re always starving, Jake.” 

Jake only shrugged before jumping up, walking to the tray without a care. Heeseung laughed at him and Sunoo swatted Jake’s bottom as he passed. Sunghoon lifted his eyes from his phone before frowning at Jake. “Don’t spill any crumbs.”

They all watched as Jake chomped down on a slider, crumbs falling on the floor. Sunghoon sighed in exasperation as Jungwon laughed. There were truly some habits that could not be helped. Jay sank down on the empty bean bag next to Riki and stretched his legs. He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, his finger tracing the black letter. 

“Jay,” Heeseung called. Jay lifted his head and looked at Heeseung. “You honestly should have showed up the other night.” Jungwon and Sunoo nodded in agreement, snacking on the plates Jake made them. Heeseung thanked Jake before looking back at Jay. “You would have loved Y/n.”

Jay had been hearing your name quite frequently the past couple of days. You were Sunghoon’s Soulmate’s cousin, someone who left town a few months before he came. He had heard your name a few times over the years, somehow always missing you. Every time you were in town, he was preoccupied. To him, you existed in the fantastical stories that Sunghoon and Jake told him. 

He glanced at the hole in the wall next to him, grinning at the story Sunghoon loved to tell. He almost wanted to punch the wall to see how weak the drywall truly was, but he respected himself too much to go through with it. 

“My bad, Hyung,” Jay ran his hand through his hair. “I was honestly exhausted and would not have made good company. Let’s plan something else in a few days.” 

Heeseung nodded, going back to playing the game with Jake. Soft music played as everyone lounged around, basking in the quietness of the afternoon. They didn’t get many moments like this. Not with everyone’s hectic schedule. 

“When is Y/n coming over to fix the wall, Hyung?” Riki asked Sunghoon, controller in his hands and crackers in his mouth. Jay slowly turned his head to Sunghoon, eyebrows raised and lips parted. 

Sunghoon pursed his lips. “I think after six? That’s what she said yesterday.” 

“What?” Jay stared at Sunghoon, mouth agape. “I’ve asked you for months to let me fix that hole! And you’re letting Y/n do it?” 

Sunghoon shrugged. “Yeah. She asked.” At Jay’s unimpressed look, Sunghoon smiled. “Plus, the missus told me to.” At his confession, Jay dropped his shoulders. There was nothing to argue if Soulmates were involved. 

Still, he frowned. He could be a bit annoyed by it. He knew he could have fixed the hole in less than thirty minutes, but Sunghoon never let him. He said it was funnier, and it was a nice reminder, but Jay simply thought he was crazy. 

“Y/n was nice,” Sunoo mused. Jay shifted his eyes from the screen to him, listening. “She’d never met me and tried her best to engage me in conversation. Plus,” he smiled, “she didn’t even ask about my Soulmate.”

Jay raised an eyebrow at Sunoo’s words, slightly impressed. Sunoo wasn’t the most subtle when it came to his feelings, so he often got many questions. Jay was just glad his friend was comfortable and had a good time. 

“You guys should have seen her last year,” Heeseung laughed. “Before the wall incident, she figured out a way onto my roof. It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. One second we’re all in my garage and then she’s on the roof.” 

Jake and Jungwon burst into laughter, clearly remembering the incident like it happened yesterday. Sunghoon grinned at his phone as he typed away, and Sunoo smiled at what Jay could only assume was his imagination, trying to picture it. 

Riki pouted at the television. “I wish I got to see that,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Sunghoon nodded, still primarily focused on his phone. “She’s a good one. She’s not super into the whole Soulmate thing, though.” 

Jay’s eyes widened a fraction before he bit into a cracker. He didn’t know many people who weren’t absolutely smitten with the idea of Soulmates. Although he knew it was inevitable, he couldn’t help but feel a bit insecure about it. He didn’t even know who he was, so how could the universe make someone for him? Who could truly stand him and his flaws? Who could look at him and decide they loved him anyways? 

Jungwon nodded, munching away. “Yeah, she mentioned it the other night. It’s kind of interesting, actually.” He looked at Jay. “She thinks like you.”

Jay rolled his eyes, snorting. “Oh, so she has common sense?” He dodged the pillow Heeseung threw at him and grinned before looking back at Jungwon. “Anyone with common sense would find it a bit weird.” 

Immediately, the other six boys in the room shook their heads. They were used to Jay’s rambling and thoughts. In retrospect, they could understand where he was coming from. Jay had grown up relatively lonely, and so he learned to be independent and capable very early on. 

Jokingly, Jungwon had joked about Jay and Y/n being Soulmates to Heeseung. The older boy only slapped his shoulder and shook his head. He knew neither party would appreciate the joke.

“Everyone knows you’re a romantic at heart, Jay.” Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “You can drop the tough boy exterior. We won’t tell anyone.”

Jay laughed before throwing the pillow at Jake, hitting him right in the chest. He grinned at Jake’s baffled expression before dropping his shoulders. “Shut up.” 

The boys laughed. As much as they liked to tease Jay, they all loved him very much. He was a busy guy and any time they got with him was precious. Riki shifted his beanbag and laid his head in Jay’s lap. Sunghood said nothing as he picked up Jay’s empty plate and passed him a full one, knowing that Jay sometimes got too busy to eat properly. 

The next few hours were spent leisurely; alternating between playing games and having weird, in-depth conversations about random topics. Jay’s cheeks hurt from laughing. His sweater had come off hours ago and now he laid on the floor, Jungwon draped over him as they watched Heeseung and Riki play an intense game of Twister. 

Jay glanced at his watch and cursed, gaining the attention of Jungwon and Sunoo. “What is it, Hyung?” Sunoo asked, eyes on Heeseung’s trembling form. If Heeseung lost, Riki got to tell Heeseung’s Soulmate one secret. If Riki lost, he had to yell Heeseung’s name at his next game before he scored. The stakes were extremely high.

“Shit,” Jay shuffled upwards, smiling apologetically at Jungwon’s irritated look. “I gotta go, guys. I promised dad I’d help him.” He stood up, shrugging on his sweater.

Sunghoon frowned, glancing at his phone. “It’s only five forty-five. Don’t you want to meet Y/n? You should stay for a bit.” 

Jay did want to meet you, and he wanted to see just how good you were at carpentry, but he had committed to his dad. Part of him didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and waste time, but the softer part of him refused. He smiled at Sunghoon. “I’ll be back. I’ll try and stop by as soon as I’m done. I’ll keep you updated.”

He pocketed his phone and laughed as the other boys yelled out their goodbyes, all exaggerated and gross. Jake even grabbed his face and kissed him right on the forehead, which ended with Jay pushing him off, groaning as he wiped his cheek. 

“See you later, Jay!” Heeseung yelled, trying not to fall over. He lifted his head and grinned. “Thanks for the snacks, by the way. You’re such a good malewife.” 

Jay blinked as Jungwon and Riki shook with laughter. Heeseung often called Jay terms like that but it never made it easier to hear. Jay wanted to walk over and push both Riki and Heeseung over, making them both lose, but he just rolled his eyes and flipped them off. 

“See you.” 

Twenty minutes after Jay left, you and your cousin parked the car in Sunghoon’s driveway. You were excited as you reached in the back, grabbing all the tools you needed. You had taken an interest in carpentry after your mother had damaged her wall and didn’t have the heart to tell your father. After that, you realized it was pretty easy to do. 

Plus, it made you feel better about yourself. You didn’t need a man to do these things for you. You were fully capable and it eased the tension in your shoulders. A small, miniscule part of you wondered if all the skills you had gained were simply to compensate for everything else you lacked. 

Your cousin shut your car door as you balanced everything in your uncle’s toolbox. He didn’t even ask when you declared that you needed his tools. He simply sighed and told you to go crazy. 

Your cousin rang the doorbell and the door was instantly pulled open by Sunghoon, his entire body shaking with excitement. He pulled her into a long, passionate kiss and you just stood behind her, looking up. You cleared your throat once, then twice.

“Ahem,” you coughed. This time, your cousin heard you and pulled away, laughing at the pout on Sunghoon’s lips. She kissed him once more before throwing you an apologetic smile. She simply pushed past him and waved to you to follow.

You snickered at Sunghoon’s lovestruck expression as you walked by him, pulling him out of the trance he was under. He caught up to you and bumped shoulders with you, smiling at you. He glanced at the tools in your arm and shook his head, not wanting to even ask. 

You followed your cousin down the basement stairs and frowned at the uneven bumps and screws. When your feet landed on the cold floor, you turned back to the stairs. “You should really get carpet on those stairs, Sunghoon. It’s dangerous to have such uneven steps.”

The chatter behind you quietened and Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. You turned back to face him and found them all staring at you, curiosity swimming in their eyes. Your eyes drifted from Jake to Riki and you frowned. “What? Are you super sensitive about your stairs too?”

Sunghoon quietly shook his head, tilting it in thought. “No, you’re just not the first person to tell me that.”

You sighed in relief and shrugged. “Oh. Yeah, obviously.” You eyed the stairs again. “Those are some weird stairs.” You didn’t pay attention to the eyes on you as you walked further into the basement, putting down all the tools by the wall. Everyone else shared a curious look before going back to doing whatever they were doing “So who else has mentioned the stairs?”

“Jay,” Jake answered, shoving a piece of fruit in his mouth. “He’s always talking about them.”

You nodded, slowly understanding this Jay character. “Are you guys sure that Jay is real? All this talk and I have yet to meet him.”

Heeseung laughed, slapping his thigh. “Oh, he’s real. Very real.” 

Your cousin raised an eyebrow at Sunghoon. “Where is he?” Sunghoon shrugged, kissing her forehead. “Had to help his dad with something.” 

You turned around, smiling at everyone. You ignored the way your cousin and Sunghoon took up the whole couch and walked to Jungwon and Riki, sitting in between them. They hugged you and you ruffled Riki’s hair, holding yourself back from pinching his cheek. You all watched as Jake and Sunoo played an intense game of twister. 

You quickly fixed the hole in the wall, a bit nervous because of all the eyes on you. It didn’t help that everyone refused to let you hold the drywall knife even though you had only had one mishap with a knife years ago. Once it was done, Sunghoon nodded in approval and you felt accomplished.

Later, the basement was filled with laughter and music, a comfortable blanket of warmth covering the coldness of the evening. You finished your slider before looking up at Jungwon. “Hey,” you mumbled. “Who made all the snacks?” You knew how far Heeseung and Sunghoon’s skills went, and this seemed to surpass them.

“Oh, that would be Jay Hyung. He’s our resident chef.”

You nodded, in thought. You still had to meet Jay. He was supposed to come the other night but he never showed up. You thought you knew him, though, with how often the boys mentioned him. You had heard of Jay before, too. Somehow, you always seemed to miss him. He almost didn’t seem real. Despite Heeseung confirming that he was. 

“He’s a really good cook,” you shoved a dumpling in your mouth. You weren’t the best cook, despite your constant efforts. You could follow a recipe closely enough, but you didn’t have that natural talent that you assumed Jay had. 

After you had lost the game of Twister with your cousin, you sat on the sofa with Riki and Sunghoon. You leaned into Sunghoon and he wrapped his arm around you. To him, you were like a cousin. Someone he didn’t have to see or talk to all the time, but knew that when you did, things would be fun. Riki laid slumped against you. He didn’t usually get comfortable so quickly with strangers but he already knew you from the stories, and you thought he was just the cutest.

You watched as your cousin tried beating Sunoo and Jake at Mario Kart, but all you could do was laugh. She was horrible at it, but she was smiling and having fun. You knew Heeseung was just itching to grab the controller out her hand and you parted your lips to make a comment when your wrist hurt.

You glanced down at your right wrist and your eyes widened when the slight stinging pain turned into something warmer. You gripped your wrist and held your breath when the J on your wrist turned a solid, dark blue. You gasped at the colour, immediately standing upright. You caught the attention of everyone in the room and they stared at you.

You glanced at your cousin with wide, frightened eyes. What was happening? You rubbed the letter, wondering if you were seeing this. No, no, this can’t be.

“Y/n?” She dropped the controller, slowly standing up. She walked to you and grabbed your wrist, gasping at the blue letter. Suddenly, everything around you became quiet and loud at the same time. Everyone stood up and surrounded you, eyes wide as they stared at your wrist. 

Heeseung laughed, biting his fist in excitement. Sunoo and Riki shared a look of disbelief. Jungwon could only gape with Jake, neither hadn’t actually witnessed a tethering in real life. 

Your cousin said your name softly, pulling you out of your haze. She smiled at you and grabbed your other hand. “Y/n. Listen to me,” she squeezed your wrists. “Do you know what this means?”

Numb, you could only nod. When your Soulmate is close, your letter turns blue. The two letters then tether together a string of fate that tries to pull both Soulmates together. The string is invisible to everyone but them, and is inevitable once it has appeared.

“Can you see the string?”

You blinked and looked down at your wrist, eyes widening as a blue string appeared in front of your eyes, connecting your letter J with someone else’s wrist. Your eyes followed the blues hue until you glanced at the basement stairs. 

“This is so exciting,” Riki whispers, earning a shove from Sunghoon. He could see the turmoil on your face. The hesitance and the need that swirled in your eyes. Any second now, and you would begin to–

Breathing heavily, you yanked your wrists from your cousin's hold and booked it upstairs, running towards your Soulmate. Your cousin stared at where you once stood before she yelled your name, running after you. Sunghoon and Heeseung followed, calling both your names.

Panicked, Jake grabbed the car keys and ran after them. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki followed him, all four of them scrambling up the stairs to the front door. Jake watched as the four of you ran down the street and decided it would be better to have one car. He shoved the three younger boys in the back and quickly pulled out of the driveway. 

You ran as fast as you could. There was a red car driving ahead of you, and you knew it belonged to your Soulmate. It had not gotten far when you ran out the front door, but now it was leaving you in its wake.

Blood pumped to your head as your lungs burned. You could hear your cousin, Sunghoon, and Heeseung behind you but you didn’t care. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, all that you knew was that you needed to see him. To touch him. It was as if a centuries old feeling had overtaken you, throwing all common sense out the window as primal need and want swirled inside of you.

Abruptly, the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. The blue string tightened as you neared the car, out of breath and sweaty. Slowing down, you began heaving in deep breaths when you were only twenty meters away from the car. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon caught up to you, huffing and sweaty. Heeseung put his hand on your shoulder as the three of you caught your breath, your cousin now speed walking to you. His eyes narrowed at the familiar license plate and he shared a look with Sunghoon, both holding their tongues. 

Your eyes were focused solely on the driver side of the red car. You didn’t care about the model or the plate, just the person who drove it. Your heart was beating so loudly in your chest you could feel it in your fingernails. You were still out of breath but it had nothing to do with running. Your Soulmate sat in that car and you had no choice but to meet him. 

Your cousin reached you and put her hand on your other shoulder. She was excited and nervous but she could feel the tension rolling off of you in waves. She squinted at the car and gasped, immediately being shushed by Heeseung and Sunghoon. Somewhere behind you, a car had been parked. You could hear other voices join the cloud of noise in your mind. 

“Y/n,” Heeseung whispered. “Don’t be scared. I promise you that he’s a good guy. There’s nothing like meeting your soulmate for the first time.” He squeezed your shoulder. “Remember, he is perfect for you.” 

You nodded, tears in your eyes. You had imagined this scenario many times in your head but it was never real. You knew that realistically you had a Soulmate but you never expected to meet him so young. Now, with hundreds of emotions clashing inside you, the only one you could identify was longing. 

Slowly, you put one foot in front of the other until you slowly started getting closer to the car. You stopped after a few steps, hands shaking as you realized that only you were moving. You purse your lips at the thought of your Soulmate not wanting to meet you.

“He doesn’t want me,” you mumbled. You took a step back but your cousin’s chest stopped you. She stood directly behind you and held both your shoulders, a frown on her lips. “What? Y/n, of course he does. He’s probably just as nervous as you.” 

You shook your head, trying to ignore the blue string that looked so tempting, so inviting. “He’s not even moving.” You tugged your hand back, wincing when the letter burned for a second. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Dumbass,” Sunghoon whispered, rolling his eyes. Of all the moments he chose to be slow, this is what prevailed? Sunghoon wanted to drag him out of the car and shake him until he reached his senses. 

Heeseung grabbed a small pebble from the road and eyed it. He glanced at Sunghoon who only shrugged. Nodding to himself, Heeseung threw the pebble right at the car. You watched as the small stone hit the car’s back window with a quiet smack!

However small the stone, it did its job. You held your breath as the figure inside the car moved. You watched with wide, shiny eyes as he slowly opened the car door and stepped out. Your eyes travelled from his black boots up his dark blue jeans. You eyed the black sweater before you glanced at the side of his face. Your entire body shook and you audibly gasped when he slammed the door closed, turning to you.

Your shiny eyes met his dark brown ones and everything around you stopped. All the noise disappeared and the presence of others behind you no longer existed. It was just you and him. It was always going to be you and him.

Jay was frozen. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his palms sweaty as he tried to breathe. He had driven to Sunghoon’s house and parked, before he realized he forgot his phone at home. He pulled out of his driveway and began to drive when his wrist burned and the letter turned blue. In shock, he kept his foot on the pedal, unable to process anything.

It was only when he saw your figure in the rearview camera that he parked his car, breathing heavily. He blinked a few times, mouth dry, as he stared at you. You stood in front of him, hands trembling and so beautiful. He ignored the audience behind you, his sole focus on you. 

You were so beautiful, so perfect. His heart swelled in his chest and he was sure this wasn’t healthy. His lungs almost burst and his hands twitched. He needed to do something. He needed to see you up close, touch your face. This couldn’t be, Jay wanted to shout. She’s too pretty. 

You swallowed as you stared at him. He was beautiful. With his strong jaw and sharp eyebrows that were covered by his black hair. Your eyes trailed his face, memorizing the shape of his nose and lips and his broad shoulders. 

He looked so big and strong and yet so gentle, you almost collapsed. His tan skin made you want to kiss him, and the way he was staring at you, eyes wide and twinkly, made you think he wanted the same.

The blue string tightened and pulled you both into each other, impatient; you started moving towards him and he started moving towards you. Neither of you had any control over your limbs as fate pulled you both together, space lessening. 

Jay broke into a run, needing to breathe you in. He almost called out to you when you began running towards him, wanting you to save your breath because he was coming to you. Breathless, you both stopped in front of each other, eyes locked on the other. 

You were shorter than him, and when you looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with trepidation and excitement, Jay’s knees buckled. You smiled at him, at the closeness, breathing in his scent. He was so handsome, masculine features mixed with soft, angelic ones. At your smile, all of Jay’s initial worries melted. As long as you smiled at him, he knew he would be okay. 

“Hi,” you whispered. Your voice, soft and anxious, brushed against his chin. You wanted to reach out to him, touch his sharp jaw. Your blue letter itched, the need to turn red weighed heavily on both of you. 

Jay smiled and you melted, all your insecurities and indifference dissipating. How could you have had any qualms about this? About him? He was perfect to you, from his smile to his trembling hands. 

“Hi, pretty.” Jay inched closer to you, tips of his shoes touching yours. Your cheeks felt warm at the term, knowing he genuinely meant it. He was staring at you with so much passion, heat infused into eyes. 

Slowly, you reached up. Your right hand slowly inching towards your face. Jay watched you closely, wanting to paint a perfect picture of you in his mind. His eyes briefly glanced at the blue J on your wrist and his smile deepened. That’s right, he thought. You were his and he was yours. 

Gently, you cupped his cheek and you both winced in pleasure as your wrists began to burn. He leaned into your hand and it felt like all the stress you had been harboring for years had lifted off your chest. Your heart felt lighter and fuller and when you breathed, it felt like you had taken your first breath of fresh air. 

Jay closed his eyes as his wrist burned. He nuzzled his face into your warm hand, tears pricking his eyes as all of his hardships and insecurities melted away. He suddenly felt like he could rule the world, like he deserved everything good the world had to offer. 

He felt like he deserved you; someone so beautiful and soft, with a kind smile and wide eyes. 

Jay lifted his right wrist, keeping it parallel to yours. You both watched as the letters turned permanently red, something warm swirling in your stomachs. Once the burning lessened, you tried pulling your hand away but Jay caught your wrist, keeping your hand on his face. He lifted your other hand to his face and you grinned when his eyes fluttered shut. 

You rubbed his jaw, silently impressed by the sharpness. Everything felt warm and electric. You could feel your insides turn to mush when he smiled at you, his eyes lighting up. His lips looked so soft, so plump. Without thinking, you ran your thumb across his bottom lip, transfixed by the pinkness. Jay almost whimpered at the feeling, his entire face warming up. 

With an urgency Jay had never felt before, his hands gently came up to your waist. His eyes squinted in question and you nodded, needing his hands on you. His strong hands rested on your waist, pulling you in closer to him.

“I know we have a lot to talk about,” Jay’s voice brushed against your lips, “but I might pass away if I don’t kiss you.” His eyes were filled with adoration, desperation leaking into his hold. 

You nodded, pulling his face closer to yours. “Kiss me,” you begged. You didn’t even mind the audience behind you, knowing that they didn’t matter. Nothing did, not when his lips hovered over yours. 

Jay smiled as he pressed his lips against yours. You gasped into his mouth, a wave of emotions crashing into you, pushing you further into him. The warmth in your chest erupted, spreading over your whole body as he kissed you. His lips softly pressed against yours and he pulled away. Before you could think, you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him back, slamming your lips against his. 

You could feel his heart beating and knew yours was beating just as loudly. Jay pulled you flush against him, kissing you back just as hard. He had never felt like this before. He had never wanted to fall to his knees in devotion the way he wanted to right now. He could have if your grip on him wasn’t so strong.

Everything inside you begged for your hands to roam, to touch his body. But you couldn’t. Not yet. You didn’t even know his name. With a heavy heart, you pulled away, panting into his mouth. Your eyes were still closed when he rested his forehead against yours, both breathing the other in. 

“I called this,” a familiar voice said behind you. 

Jay opened his eyes first and couldn’t help but smile at your expression; lips plump and eyes shut. You looked breathtaking. He almost pressed another kiss to your inviting lips but his eyes glanced to the side and he froze. All his friends, all your friends, were staring at him with goofy smiles and mischievous eyes. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes and Jay looked back at you. You smiled shyly at him before looking down. He still held you close to his chest, his hands warm on your waist. Your hand was still gripping his sweater and cupping his cheek. You didn’t have it in you to let go. 

“Everyone’s staring,” you whispered. “Aren’t they?” 

Jay nodded, a soft smile on his face. You wanted to kiss it. Your heart couldn’t handle it. It was such a beautifully sculpted smile, the edges of his lips turned upwards as his eyes shone. “They are.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at them. “Do you want me to tell them to go?”

You shook your head. You knew you were still in the middle of the street but if you were alone with him, you may get yourself in trouble. He was too much. You didn’t trust yourself enough, part of you knew that you wouldn’t mind if he began to strip you. “It’s okay. They wouldn’t leave, anyways.”

Jay tilted his head, his head filled with clouds of desire and affection. He licked his lips and tried not to smirk when your eyes fell on them, wide with curiosity. “I know I should have asked before, but what’s your name, pretty?” 

You laughed, smiling in embarrassment. If Jay could have bottled the sound, he would have. If he could have bottled it, he would have worn it around his neck, wanting to keep it close to his heart. He had heard many laughs over the years, but none that sounded as beautiful as yours. 

“Y/n,” you answered. You grazed his cheek with your thumb, not noticing the way his eyes widened. “My name’s Y/n.” You looked up at Jay and frowned at his surprised expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and you purse your lips. “What? What is it?”

“You’re Y/n? The Y/n?” 

Slowly, you nodded. “Yes? I’m sorry,” you pulled your head back, “you know who I am?”

Jay opened his mouth to answer but then paused. Disbelief bubbling in his chest. He glanced back at Sunghoon and Heeseung’s pleased faces and realized he hadn’t answered you. Shaking his head, he laughed. You simply watched him in confusion as laughter took over his body, his eyes tearing up. 

“I’m Jay,” he finally answered. He watched as the information processed in your mind, watched as your lips parted and your eyes grew. You stared at him like he was a magical creature and he wondered if he was looking at you the same way. 

“You’re Jay?” You grabbed his chin, turning his head back and forth, trying to sear his face into your mind. “As in, the Jay who always complains about the stairs and cooks?”

Amused, Jay simply nods. You both stare at each other in wonder, hundreds of emotions brimming underneath the surface while unspoken words sit in between you. All those years that you had missed each other, all those occasions that could have been. 

“So, isn’t this interesting?” 

You broke your eye contact with Jay and turned at the sound of Heeseung’s pleased voice. You smiled as they all walked up to you, happiness shining in their eyes. Jay rolled his eyes before he stepped beside you, his arm still around your waist. 

Your cousin grinned at you and you smiled back, still in shock. She stepped towards you and you moved away from Jay, wrapping your arms around her. She hugged you tight, whispering quiet nothings to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears on the verge of spilling. She pulled away and you wiped a tear that escaped her. No words were exchanged because you already knew. You could feel it. You understood it all now. She simply kissed your cheek and smiled at Jay. 

Sunghoon ruffled your hair and you frowned, slapping his hand. He grinned at you before bumping his shoulder against Jay’s. Jungwon and Sunoo hugged you, congratulating you. Jake pressed a soft kiss to your head, telling you how proud he was. Riki was crying and you hugged him. You rubbed his back as he sobbed, as the true emotional baby he was. 

You teased Riki, whispering quiet phrases of encouragement before he let you go. This was the first time he had watched Soulmates meet and it was beautiful. He wanted to find his own so badly. 

Quietly, Jay stepped beside you, his hand resting on your lower back. He needed you close to him. While he appreciated all his friends and their teasing and jabs, he really just wanted you alone. He wanted to get to know you, to know you beyond the stories he had heard. He wanted to memorize your taste and your smile. He wanted to begin his forever. 

You smiled at him and realized that his eyes were bright with something else. Something dangerous. You turned your head, facing Heeseung as Jungwon recalled his joke from the other night. Your entire body felt warm and you tried to ignore his body heat beside you. 

Your cousin, being the best person to exist, noticed the quietness between you both and she nudged Sunghoon. With a single raised eyebrow, he understood her unspoken words and nodded. He cleared his throat, interrupting Heeseung. “Maybe we should give them some space? Jake, let's take your car back.” He winked at Jay and winced when your cousin elbowed him. 

Jake nodded, understanding how important this moment was. He fetched his keys from his pocket and clapped his hands. “Okay! Everyone who’s not Jay or Y/n back to my car. Pick the laps you want to sit on.” 

You and Jay watched as the seven of them walked away, arguing and laughing. You stood in the middle of the road until you could no longer see Jake’s care. Your breathing had gotten deeper, a bubble of anxiety and excitement bubbling in your chest. 

Jay turned his head and looked at you, suddenly nervous. His heart skipped a beat when you looked at him, smiling. “Have you eaten? Do you want to get something to eat? Or drink?” 

Your smile widens at his words. He was just as nervous as you were. It calms you down a bit, knowing you didn’t have to pretend with him. “I could eat.” You admit. Jay’s eyes soften and he nods. He slowly pulls you to his car and you follow him, nervous. 

“I can’t believe you almost drove away from me,” you teased. Jay’s ears turned red and you laughed, finding him adorable. As you neared his car, Jay’s shoulders dropped. 

“I was nervous,” he admitted. “And a bit scared. I didn’t expect to find you like that.” 

You nodded in understanding because you did understand. Still, you purse your lips. “You’re not still nervous, are you?” You wanted to keep your own insecurities out of your tone but he caught them. “I mean, you’re not upset that you found me, are you?”

Jay stilled at your words. You didn’t even notice until your hand slightly grazed the roof of his car. You turned, only to find Jay in front of you. He stepped towards you and your back hit the side of his car. You looked up at him, surprised. He caged you in, arm on either side of you.

Your throat dried at his closeness and his eyes; gosh, his eyes. Dark and blown wide with fondness and desire. He dipped his head down to yours until his breath made your ear tingle. 

“Y/n, you have no idea how happy I am. My heart is about to burst out of my chest and I am one second away from bursting into tears.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I want to touch you all over, learn everything about you, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He pulled back, smiling gently at you as if he didn’t just ignite a fire in your whole body.

Your eyes shut at his words, knowing you had mistaken his hesitant demeanor. He watched as you breathed his scent in, wanting to coat yourself in his smell. The intensity of your want was killing you. Is this how it felt for all Soulmates? 

You opened your eyes and Jay almost fell to his knees at the need and want in your eyes. He felt the exact same way, but he wanted to be patient. He wanted to spend more time with you, learn more about you, before he made love to you. He wanted to be a gentleman, someone who you wouldn’t mind calling your Soulmate. 

Jay kissed you, smiling when you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pushed into you, wanting to feel every crevice of your body. Your hands pushed into his hair, pulling him closer to you. All you wanted was him. 

When you pulled at his hair, Jay pulled away, breathing heavily. He pressed a soft kiss to your pout, unable to help himself. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling when you kissed his cheek. 

“We have forever, love.” He kissed your nose. “Let’s take things slow. Let me treat you well.”

a/n: its finally done! this is for the lovely @luvkpopp who requested soulmates! if you guys like this, i’m open to writing a soulmate au for all of hyung line!

[positivelyholland]

To Our Future Together

pairing: luke castellan x reader

genre: fluff

summary: one night while laying under the stars, you and luke begin to wonder what the stars have fated for your futures together.

warnings: really sappy, not proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seated on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean, you and your long-term boyfriend shared dreams beneath the canvas of a star-studded sky. The night's serenity lent itself to discussions into the realm of shared futures.

“I might be crazy to say this, but do you ever wonder what our lives will be like once this is all over?” As you raised the question, you noticed Luke’s heartbeat deciding on a quicker pace within his chest that your head was resting on.

“What exactly do you mean by that? If you’re talking about any sort of future together then I’ll be the first to admit I’ve thought a little too much about how good Y/n Castellan sounds,” he says with a slight smirk.

“It does have a good ring to it, doesn't it?” you laughed along with him, “but i guess i more meant that once everything changes, or once we have to leave camp half-blood, what happens to us?”

“I need you to know I am being so serious when I say that you’re it for me. I genuinely don’t think a life without you is possible. The only future I see for myself is one with you, me, and four to five miniature versions of us.”

You found comfort in the warmth that flooded Luke's gaze. You could see it in his eyes, how his once-turbulent past seemed to fade away as he embraced the idea of a family with you, one that echoed with echoes of joy and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

“I one hundred percent agree with everything you said, except the only thing is how I thought I heard you use the number five when talking about how many times I’ll have to go through childbirth,” you teased, “but feel free to correct me if I heard wrong.”

“You’re not hearing things, love. I did say five but I actually dream about ten little ones running around, I'll take as many as you’re willing to give me,” he teased with a chuckle. “Realistically, though, I don’t care much about the details as long as I have you.” 

Luke's fingers gently entwined with yours as you began to paint a picture of the life you envisioned together. With sincerity in his eyes, he listened to your hopes and aspirations, nodding in agreement as you spoke of a home filled with love and laughter.

You spoke of raising children who would inherit the strength and kindness you saw in Luke, a blend of mortal and demigod virtues. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of anticipation and affection as he imagined teaching them about the world and the lessons he had learned.

Together, you crafted a vision of a life where bedtime stories were spun with tales of adventure and the glory days, and bedtime kisses were accompanied by whispered promises of protection and love.

Luke, once with a lost purpose of life, now saw a future intertwined with the legacy of your shared love. The prospect of a future filled with family became a beacon of hope, a testament to the healing power of love. 

And so, beneath the stars, the two of you embarked on a journey of dreams, each whispered promise sealing the foundation of a future built on love, trust, and the belief that together, you could weather any storm.

[theteasetwrites]

Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting. 

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival. 

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things. 

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless. 

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window. 

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold. 

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it. 

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief. 

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return. 

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours. 

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing. 

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation. 

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different. 

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow. 

Now he was scaring you. 

“Daryl?” 

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved. 

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there. 

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you. 

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened. 

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart… 

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much. 

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word. 

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again. 

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you. 

“Need your mouth,” he said. 

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm. 

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much. 

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips. 

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own. 

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance. 

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth. 

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy. 

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging. 

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it. 

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock. 

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used. 

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.” 

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right. 

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him. 

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?” 

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord. 

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you. 

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out. 

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…” 

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something. 

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!” 

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward. 

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll. 

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet. 

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun. 

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief. 

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again. 

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile. 

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

[freelancearsonist]

so scarlet, it was...

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader - series masterlist

➔ 1.3k words

➔ “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

➔ Rated MA for dark fic kinda, a/b/o themes (alpha joel, omega reader), established... situationship? i guess, pregnancy/contemplation of termination, contemplation of self harm, reader is not in a good headspace. one instance of vomiting, joel is not very nice, this fic in general is not very nice. takes place three years post outbreak. [please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can add them in :)]

➔ thank you so much to my darling @bitchwitch1981 for the prompt, i'm so sorry this is probably very much not what you wanted 🤣 extra special thank you to @perotovar for making this wonderful joel gif for me, if ur reading this ily <3

You’ve never actually used one of these things before. You’ve only read about them in books or seen them in movies from years ago, and they’ve only ever been an object of abject horror.

You understand why now, looking down at those two little lines on the stick cradled in your hand. You’ve never been quite so terrified in your life.

You never should’ve pocketed this test when you found it in that miraculously untouched drug store. You could’ve stayed blissfully unaware. Better yet, you should’ve been more careful. Three years of living like this has been more than enough to make you firm in your decision to never bring life into this broken world. This isn’t a place for a child, this is barely even a place for you. Every day is a fight, every waking moment is a nightmare. But you’ve been so careless with him and now it’s all crashing down, this blissful bubble where you can pretend that everything might be okay because you have the pack and, more importantly, him. 

You won’t have him for much longer when he finds out about this.

You wonder what it’ll take to right this wrong before he finds out about it. It must be pretty early, so maybe it won’t take much to reverse it. Maybe all you’ll have to do is bump into something just right, or trip over the right log.

The thought makes you sick–more stomach bile than anything else coming up because you’ve hardly had more to eat than stale beef jerky and some precarious berries in the past few days. Resources have been so slim; another reason this can’t be happening. You hardly have enough to tide you over, much less a child. And it’ll be even worse once the pack abandons you.

You bury yourself into the haphazard nest of blankets and his worn clothes, letting the heavy, musky scent of him soothe your wracking sobs. 

Maybe you should just accept your fate now, sacrifice yourself for the good of the pack. Everyone is going to die eventually, after all–sooner rather than later in this world. You’ve only been postponing the inevitable. They never have to know why you do it, and it’ll be one less mouth to feed. Two, technically, but they’ll never have to know that. He won’t even really miss you, it’ll be one less burden on his hands. On all of their hands.

You don’t hear them return early from scavenging–maybe because the volume of your own sobs drowns out any other noise. Or maybe because he can sense something is wrong as he enters the run-down little shack you’ve been holed up in for the past few weeks, and he softens his approach because of it.

Joel has never been quite as tender as he is when he takes you into his arms, pulling your face out of the pile of fabric to wipe at your tear-streaked cheeks.

“My omega, shhhh, I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, wrapping you into his big, strong, safe arms. He doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks you had a nightmare, or you just missed him, or a million other things except the truth. But he doesn’t know, and you know he doesn’t know because you feel the moment he connects the dots. His eyes drop to the little white stick clutched tightly in your fist and his entire body stiffens like a board. Suddenly there’s no more warmth or comfort to his touch, nothing soothing about the pheromones drifting from him. He pulls away like you’re infected, and maybe you are. Maybe the thing that’s taken root in you is worse than cordyceps could ever hope to be.

You’ve never been terrified of him before. Joel is dark and brooding and imposing, but he’s only ever fought to protect you. His omega, who wormed their way under his skin despite him fighting it every step of the way. His omega, who’s been the only source of anything remotely close to comfort he’s had since outbreak day. His omega, who’s given him purpose in this dark world.

His omega, who’s betrayed him in such an unforgivable way.

“What the fuck.” There’s nothing but venom in his tone–he looks at you with pure disgust and your resolve crumbles.

Maybe there was a little, tiny, miniscule part of you that hoped it would be different. That he would be excited to be a father, or at least be understanding. But that hope dies so suddenly when you look up into his scowling face. He towers over you, dark eyes flashing with anger, and for the first time since you met him two long years ago you’re scared.

“You were supposed to be careful.” His voice rises further and further with each syllable, as if this isn’t partially his fault too. As if he wasn’t the one in such an uncontrollable rut last month that he kept you in bed all week, losing the willpower required to pull out with each powerful thrust of his hips. As if it isn’t his seed blooming in your womb as you speak.

“What do we do now, huh?” He growls, eyes darkening, fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve fucking marked you, I can’t turn you loose! And we barely make it by as we are! How the fuck are we supposed to handle this?”

He rants for what seems like hours and you flinch with every booming word, curling tighter around yourself in a desperate attempt to simply disappear; to not have to deal with this any more because your heart shatters with each irreversible word he throws at you. You shrink and shrink and shrink in hopes of vanishing because this is undoable. No matter what happens, nothing will ever go back to the way it was and that’s the knowledge that crushes you completely.

Your voice is so small when he finally quiets enough for you to speak. “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

Joel stops in his tracks, white knuckles unclenching for the first time in minutes. He sees the fear and regret in your eyes, and he almost lets it soften him. He loathes himself for this look on your face–for making you scared of him.

His omega. So small and fragile, curled in a pile of his clothes because his scent brings you comfort. He’s dedicated two years of his time and effort to keeping you safe and comfortable, if not happy. He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you. He’s supposed to give you children and raise them with you, be a family with you. That’s what being your alpha means, and he has so sorely failed you. 

But he knows he can never do that again. That’s never what this was supposed to be. He didn’t mark you out of anything but necessity–if he had let your uncontrolled scent waft every time you went into heat, every alpha in the country would be targeting your little pack of four. You’re his omega out of biological necessity–a warm hole to fill when his rut threatens to tear already strenuous ties with his brother and Tess. That’s what he tells himself because the alternative is so startlingly incomprehensible that he won’t allow himself to even consider the fact that he might care about you; that the urge to care for you and protect you is more than primal, biological instinct; that you mean more to him than anyone ever has.

Not just his omega now, but his mate. His unborn child is growing and growing and growing with each passing second inside your womb and he’s powerless to stop it.

“We’re thirty-seven miles from the Boston QZ,” he growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “We leave at first light.”

You don’t get a chance to argue or plead your case before the door slams shut behind him. 

➔ beta: @beskarandblasters and @fhatbhabie

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[haunted-xander]

Shadowbringers is about learning how to live.

Your enemy is stasis- everything and everyone is stagnant, they wait and wait for something to happen, but don't do anything to make it so (because the ones who tried before failed, because they don't know what to do/how to do it). People don't change, they don't try, not really. The crystarium is doing well, it's independent and sustainable, but it doesn't have the reach or power to do much outside of Lakeland. The Exarch is more-or-less confined to the city (because of the tower, because he's waiting for you), so even if he had power elsewhere, he'd be limited with how much he, personally, can do.

Eulemore is filled with mindless indulgence, there's no hardships or labour or anything but luxury for the free citizens, and the bonded only have to worry about fulfilling the task(s) they were brought for. The outside world doesn't matter, hard work doesn't matter, personal fulfillment beyond indulgence doesn't matter, everything exist solely in the moment. The people out in Kholusia have pretty much given up, they stay close to the city in the hopes that this time they will be picked, this time they will be saved. They wait and wait and do nothing but wait. The ones who try to live on are dying out or eventually give up and join the rest in waiting.

Ahm Areang, Rak'tika, even Il Mheg are all just waiting for something, anything to happen. They go day to day, surviving simply because it's all they can. Nothing changes.

Until, of course, you should up. You, who causes a ripple of change simply by existing, who can move the immovable by sheer will. You showed them that things can change, that things can, and will happen, if they just try. You show them that they can make things better, that there is an option besides waiting for a slow death, if they'd just grab fate by the neck and tell it "No. We are doing this my way".

And they do. They rally up together and do what they thought impossible. Not all their efforts succeed(not immediately), but they tried. They tried, they failed, and they got up and tried again and again until it did work. They take the chances, not knowing how it'll turn out (because it's not about whether it fails or succeeds, it's about having tried).

They learn how to try, little by little, and every step they learn what it means to really live.

Endwalker is about learning how to love life.

Your enemy is nihilism- the idea that nothing matters, that there is no real joy to be found that isn't snuffed out by misery. A concept that denounces greys in favor of a black-and-white view where black is all encompassing. Everywhere you go, people are doing what they can to survive, but refuses (or maybe are afraid to, or maybe never knew they could) try to actually save themselves. The Forum plans for escape, to leave their homeworld behind and take whatever they can afford. They will live on, but they won't be saved, no one is saved(and even with escape they aren't safe, Despair is everywhere and She will not stop until all has become Nothing).

The Loporrits love Etheirys, but in the way Winter loves Spring. They know about it, they are so close to it, but they are distant. They're strangers, they've never met. It's love, and it's pure and true, but it's also just love. It's surface-level(because the surface is all they had). Their love is pure but it's instinctual. Programmed. They love because they don't know how to not love. They want to save it's people, save us, but they don't know what it really means to save, so they create refuge instead(because that's what She told them to, because this is how love works for them).

The people of Garlemald are terrified, they are victims of extreme indoctrination, the (deserved) push-back their army got proved them "right"(that we are savage beasts to fear, that they are but prey in the maws of rabid dogs). They want to be build-up again, but what's left for them now? The world hates them(and it's all their fault, the ones who see past the propaganda know this, but who will listen to them?) and they are dying. It's so cold and the fuel is running out. They won't accept help, because they've been filled with the idea that there is no such thing as pure kindness from "savages"(and they are too prideful to question it, to break apart from the illusion that they are surperior, because they're terrified to face the truth).

The sky screams, the earth wheeps and the foundation of existence is overtaken by Despair, misery is around every corner and who knows what will happen now? Where do we go? What do we do? We live and live but for what?

What's the point of it all?

That's the question, and the answer is everything. We live because there is joy to be found. Because there is beauty in the world. Because there are stars in the sky. Because flowers bloom in spring. Because cats purr. Because waves crash against the shore. Because of every single little thing we can see, hear or feel. Because we love and are loved. Because there are things to do and discover. Because why not?

And you tell them this, by letting them see that there is more to life than the little they have seen. The Forum has closed it's eyes to anything but it's own kith and kin, everything outside of Old Sharlayan is irrelevant(non-intervention, always non-intervention) and it takes the entire world coming and telling them "We are here. We are alive, and we will make tomorrow happen." for them to realize they have slowly been killing themselves and what they stand for(you pride yourself on knowledge, but where is your wisdom? What do you truly know of things outside your own bubble? You do not know that which is lived because you refuse to aknowledge anything but the written word).

The Loporrits see Etheirys itself, they experience it's corners and valleys and learn what love can really be. They want to save it, truly save it, because they love and this time it's informed, it's personal(I love you, I love you, and I want you to know I love your loves too).

In Garlemald everything is slow, unsteady and complicated, but it's changing. They're changing. With every person who accepts help the illusion of supremacy and "purity" melts away just a bit, and the wall standing between them and us breaks a little(it will never vanish completely, years upon years of oppression and subjugation and conquest don't disappear like that, but it's a start).

Shadobringers is about learning how to live, but Endwalker is about learning how to love life.

[yutaleks]

JJK261 spoilers. I’m living in a world of delusion where Yuuta can be put back together. Reader is a healer and was in the room assisting Shoko.

cw: angst? blood, missing limbs. The usual jujutsu kaisen fanfare. Divider by @/cafekitsune

Sometimes, in the dead of night when the moon is high in the sky and your lover is asleep, you still catch yourself staring at his scars.

There’s one, just as long as your index finger, cutting through his brow and ending straight at the bridge of his nose. Another, from his jawline to his cheek. Smaller ones exist in places you memorize but can’t name for certain; you can only tell by touch, like the memory is written in braille.

These are so often the victim of your touch—you tell him that you love him in the way you kiss them and brush your shaky thumbs over the skin. They tremble with reverence, with relief, and with fear, still. Even long after the danger’s gone, one never really heals from watching the gruesome things Yuuta had to do, back then.

The worst offender of all his scars is the straight line across his forehead, the scar that never really heals. You can’t bring yourself to touch that one. But that much, he understands.

You always tell him you find him as beautiful as the day you met him—back when he was fresh and baby-faced, knowing nothing of the world you live in now. The world that did this to him. He accepts your words with a blush to his scarred cheeks every time.

It amazes you how he still has the capacity for innocence, even now.

The worst and the best nights are the times he lays beside you with nothing but the covers on. He’s always been a fan of being coddled, and you let him curl up against your chest—you’d let him have anything, really. The boy who saved the world. He’s earned it all and more.

You say it’s the worst, because the reminders of the worst day of your life are there, in plain view. What’s missing, what’s scarred, what’s different. Every time you look down upon his chest, before you blink it away, the image of the fresh wounds is there. You still see more blood than you can fathom, you still see your hands trembling, covered in his guts and gore, as you poured every ounce of cursed energy into healing him between your sobs. You still see it all, when you look at the blemishes in his once perfect skin.

When he sleeps, his back pressed to your chest, you sometimes rub your arm against his shoulder. It no longer startles you, like it once did, when your hand makes a jagged fall from his shoulder to his chest, left arm long gone, lost in the battle. For the longest time it bothered you—that there was one less hand to hold, one less arm to wrap around you.

(It still bothers him, too, that he can never wear your ring the way he’s supposed to.)

It killed you that you couldn’t save it, that you weren’t strong enough to grow back an arm the way the others could. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

(He never faults you for it, but you do. In the dead of night, you always do.)

It took a while to not be bitter about what you’d lost, and to appreciate what you had. After all, at least he’s here.

You tell yourself at least he’s here when your eyes always happen upon the largest of his scars, the ones that were once the stitches holding his severed body together. They stretch along his torso, his hips, his back. You wonder if every tear you’d shed over him helped heal them, even a little. Like watering a broken, stomped, but budding flower with your love and care.

It feels wrong, somehow, to see Yuuta like this—missing a limb, covered in scars. You think of all the sorcerers, he’d be the least deserving of such a fate.

Is this the reward for kindness, for loving?

But he’s alive you tell yourself those times you press your ear to his chest. Yuuta never minds it; he often does the same to you. Prays thank yous to anyone who will listen that he still gets the chance to.

That is why you believe laying beside his bare chest may be the best of nights, actually. At the end of the tunnel filled with anger and resentment, at least you have him in your arms. To listen to him breathe, to listen to his heartbeat. You could listen to it for hours—if only because you remember when it didn’t. Those awful, awful five minutes where it didn’t. Where you and Arata held his life suspended, a hollow body with nothing in it to tell it to live. It’s was a cruel thing to watch, a cruel thing to make him do. And a cruel thing to remember, too.

(Yuuta knows you do, because he catches you with dried, shining tears sleeping tucked into his chest often enough.)

Will your resentment bare fruit one day? Will a curse spring forth from your anger? Will another innocent, bright-eyed hopeful kid die trying to vanquish you?

Can your love for Yuuta extinguish the resentment that clouds your mind every time you touch him?

Do sorcerers get the privilege to love, even?

“What are you thinking about?” Yuuta asks you, when you grow silent as you sit on his thighs, tracing his scar. He lays down, his right hand pinching at your hip. You’d imagine his left doing the same.

“How lucky I am that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” his hand gives you a reassuring squeeze as he anchors you back to the present. “I promise you I’m here.”

“I know, Yuuta,” you blink back the blood in your vision, blink away the gore on your hands as he takes one in his own. “I know.”

“And I’m never leaving you.” He reassures you.

When you look up to his face, eyes glazing over the stitches, your stomach flips. His pseudo-immortality does not escape you at that moment. What would you do if it came to that? Would you love him still, if that day comes?

Would the resentment finally catch up to you, then, if he’s unable to age, unable to die?

Was it worth patching him up at all?

“I know.” You lean down, stitching you lips together. “Love you, Yuuta. So much.”

He holds you—one handed, but he holds you—and his body’s still warm. His scars (except for one) long healed. Why even ask so many questions at all? He’s here, he’s alive, he’s back in your arms, isn’t he?

“I know.”

Isn’t he?

[karumbusarr]

you know, when sun jae figures out that sol is from the future, he so confidently says that he'll diligently run to 2023 to meet sol there.

we don't even question it.

realistically it's 15 years and no one in their sane mind will ask anyone of that but with sun jae, having met the 2023 sun jae in both timelines and knowing how down bad insane he's been yearning for sol despite him not having a chance yet unable to let go... we don't even question it. we don't even question the whole 'ah life moves on, people move on and drift and change' thing that'll definitely be a question with any other couple.

we just naturally accept it, yes ofc sun jae will wait and reunite with sol again, 15 years is nothing.

sun jae doesn't even have any questions, he just naturally accepts that yes ill take care of myself for the next 15 years, where's the face mask?

in the world of so called situationships, cheating, falling out of love, long distance relationship struggles, commitment issues and so on... this pure, intense love is just so wonderful to witness. ofc some situations are reasonable and can't be helped but these two who'll go against time and fate for each other just to be together... i know it's a drama and it's idealistic but just for a few hours, you live in this space where two people purely seek each other because they wouldn't want to be anywhere else, no matter how many years they've to wait.

in so many romance dramas and movies, the question of actually wanting each other comes up, with the whole second lead involvement and misunderstandings and more, but here, there's nothing. you know both of them only have eyes for each other and it's so beautiful, that's what pulls you in.

two dumbasses adoring each other and falling hard so badly that time is just a small obstacle to overcome.

sun jae, in every timeline, from the heartbroken one to the living life well one, from the high school kid to the college kid, has only ever wanted sol. he fell for her kindness and never changed. she fell for his kindness and his wonderful being in itself and now she's down bad just like him. to think he helped her through vicious hard times the college sun jae won't even be aware of.

i feel that these two pull us in so well cuz at the end of the day we all want to be loved unconditionally and these two show us that, how it must be, to be so intensely woven into each other.

and to add on to that, in every timeline, they've also always been best friends with the same kids they used to run around together in their school days. yes it's a drama but don't we all want to have life long friends who'll always be there?

in all forms, love persists here, beyond time.

lovely runner is so filled with love, kindness and devotion in all ways that you just can't help but fall in love, just as sun jae and sol fell for each other.

now, isn't this a lovely thing for all of us to witness and experience together?

[artificial-transmutations]

I'm the ugliest nerd in the world and I have nobody. I wish I was a man with dark brown eyes, nice muscles and everything that makes a himbo... and every nerd I kiss becomes a man like only an Arabian fairy tale could tell. He would only want me. Only I could keep his muscular body up with kisses and fucks.

Can you grant me this one Wish?

An Arabian fairy tale

Once upon a time, there was a nerd called Gregor. He lived his life in a big city and every day, he was miserable. Not only was he gay and lonely, no, the little nerd was also ugly. He wasn't just ugly, no, he was the ugliest nerd there was in the whole country.

Every day he wished he could find a lover and live happily ever after, but every day, he was reminded of his status as a lonely nerd. He tried online-dating, but due to his exterior, nobody seemed to want him.

Gregor was a shy, awkward guy who didn't get many chances to talk to strangers. In his free time, he enjoyed writing fantasy stories, a hobby that didn't bring him too many friends, either. It was frustrating, too. In his stories, the hero always managed to find a true love. He wasn't alone, no, he had someone at his side.

In his real life, however, Gregor didn't have such luck. The best thing that happened to him in a while was meeting another nerd online. There wasn't going to be anything romantic between them. As fate would have it, the other nerd, called Evan was also gay and lived not too far away, but Evan had made it pretty clear early on that Gregor just wasn't his type. Instead, he rooted for manly men, with a different ethnic background. Evan and Gregor spent a long lonely night in voice chat together, discussing their preferences. Evan apparently longed for the firm touch of a strong man with Arabic background.

Meanwhile, Gregor didn't dare say what he wished for. What was the use, anyway? There was no way it was going to happen. No one wanted to be with a weak, ugly nerd like him. To be honest, he didn't actually really know himself. In his thoughts, a partner was something so abstract, so far away that he hadn't even thought about how such a person would look like.

Evan's fantasy wasn't bad, though. After their talk, Gregor lay awake in his bed and imagined strong, middle-eastern men, along with Evan. Perhaps he had developed a slight crush on the other nerd. Finally, he drifted off to sleep, wishing that he and Evan could be together.

When Gregor awoke the next morning, he felt strangely energetic and in a pretty good mood. Thinking nothing of it, he quickly got dressed and thought about what to do today. He didn't have any work to do and would usually have spent the day indoors, writing one of his stories. However, after the refreshing talk yesterday, that didn't feel all too appealing. Instead, he had an idea: He knew where Evan lived and worked. Perhaps he should walk over to that other part of the city, and they could have a coffee. Not as a date, of course - but more as a continuation of last night's talk.

Gregor didn't have time to waste and left the house. As he stepped into the sun, the first thing he noticed was how bright the world suddenly appeared. He didn't think much of it, but a few moments later, the second strange thing happened: People were looking at him!

Now, Gregor was of course used to people looking after him - he was really ugly, after all! But today, it was different. The gazes that lingered on him didn't seem to be hostile or disgusted. They seemed curious.

Perhaps his shirt had a hole in it, Gregor thought. He checked himself, but no, the shirt was fine.

As he walked, the attention he drew increased steadily. Was there something on his face perhaps? Or his arms?

As he checked his arms, Gregor was amazed by what he saw: His milky-white skin that usually had a sickly tone to it was entirely different today: instead of the pale and blotchy skin, he now had a healthy and firm complexion. The muscles in his arms, which he usually thought of as scrawny and flabby were now clearly visible.

He checked the other arm, and it was the same. What was going on? Also, his vision was getting blurry. When he took off his glasses to clean them, however, his vision cleared up instantly. It was as if his short-sightedness was just gone!

As Gregor kept walking, the changes became more apparent: His legs, which had always been thin and small, were now visibly muscular. His stomach, which had always been a little fat, was now a firm six-pack. His clothes, which had been a bit baggy before, were getting tighter and tighter as both his height and his shoulder width increased more and more.

His hair, which had always been a dark brown, was getting even darker, and a strong stubble covered his chin. His skin, which had been the same milky white tone, was getting a darker, more exotic tan.

Gregor had no idea what was going on, and he was a little scared. But the more his body changed, the better he felt about it. He wasn't an ugly nerd anymore. He was not yet sure what he was going to become, but it was surely better than what he had been.

Meanwhile, his clothes were getting increasingly tight, and he felt like taking them off. That was not something he would ever do in public, but his urges were stronger than his shyness. With a quick movement, he took off his shirt and ripped his pants open. To his surprise, below the tight jeans, a pair of silk shorts in a shiny royal blue had formed instead of his slip, which covered his privates. However, even though he wasn't naked, the ample bulge that stretched the silky fabric left little to imagination: a large and thick manhood had formed between his legs, which left a clearly visible dick print, along with the thinly veiled big orbs of balls he now had.

By now, Gregor's appearance was attracting a lot of attention, as his body kept growing more and more, becoming larger and more impressive by the second. He wasn't even "lean" or "fit" anymore. The way his body expanded, he definitely qualified as "muscular" by now, perhaps even "bulky". His shoulders were wide and strong, and his back had filled out so much that his neck had almost disappeared entirely. His biceps and triceps were both at least the size of his head and were covered in a fine, dark fuzz. The rest of his body had also become much hairier: His chest was covered in a generous carpet of dark hairs and a thick bush of pubes was pushing out against the silky shorts.

People had stopped and stared, and even a few had started to snap pictures or take videos with their phones. Gregor was enjoying the attention. His facial structure reformed into something much more manly. His new Arabic heritage became clearly visible on his face. His nose, his eyes, and his jawline changed and became broader, more prominent. His eyes became deep and dark, and his bushy eyebrows made him appear quite serious and manly.

A superior grin appeared on his face that wouldn't go away anymore. Gregor knew he had become a walking wet dream of Arabic hunkness - especially for Evan. He couldn't wait to surprise him like that.

Even though his identity hadn't changed much, Gregor didn't feel like calling himself Gregor anymore. Ghalib. That was a far more fitting name for his impressive Arabic stature. It meant 'victor' or 'conqueror' - and Ghalib felt exactly like that.

Ghalib wasn't even sweating when he arrived at Evans place a short jog later. He rang the bell, and when the little nerd in front of him opened, he didn't waste any time: Ghalib pulled Evan into a tight and sensual kiss, invading the other man's mouth with determined force. Evan moaned in his mouth and his legs gave in.

Ghalib held the small nerd up and carried him inside the flat, kicking the door shut behind him. The rest of their clothes soon littered the floor as the two men kissed passionately. However, as they were making out, Evan, too, began to change. It was almost like watching his own changes in fast forward: The hair on his head receded into a shorter style and was replaced by a thick fuzz that grew on his chest and the rest of his body. Evan's face morphed into a masculine and rugged appearance. His skinny, pale arms and legs grew more and more muscles, until they looked like they were sculpted out of marble. His skin darkened and an Arabic ethnicity appeared by it.

Finally, the smaller man's cock expanded and swelled up. Within a few seconds, it reached almost the size of Ghalib's.

As they continued kissing, the two men, now equally hung and ripped, felt up each other's bodies. Ghalib had no idea why this was happening, or what had brought on these changes, but he didn't care. All he knew - or was pretty sure about - was that it didn't have to stop with Evan.

As the other hunk went down on him, Ghalib made a decision. Evan and he would share their gift, turning more and more nerds into a true harem of sexy Arabs!