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wonyology · 2 days ago

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Blueprints Of Us (m!reader x IVE's WONYOUNG) - part I

Summary: A heartbroken architect. An ambitious girl. They didn't know each other existed - until the day they met in Hong Kong. What began as a pleasant encounter slowly turns into something neither of them planned: a connection, and perhaps... a new beginning.

tags(?): fluff, post heartbreak stuff, wony being beautiful, i don't even know man

WONYOUNG x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~10k - big shoutout to @stewpidcheescatarinabluu for the hong kong suggestion, i tried something new this time so... hopefully u guys like it. also, i know nothing about architect. as always, enjoying reading!

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Incheon International Airport

It was 11:00PM, you sat quietly at Gate 21, the ice americano in your hand somehow tasted really bland now. Too bland. The terminal was quiet, not the peaceful quiet kind - just empty. A few other passengers sat scattered across the rows of seats, some half asleep, others just looked dead inside, just like you. You weren’t in a rush since your flight to Hong Kong wouldn’t board for another 40 minutes. Moments like these just sucked somehow.

You scrolled through your phone again. Nothing to check, Just the usual emails from work, maybe too many unread group chats that you didn’t even bother to open in days, and that message - still sitting on top of your Kakao like it was waiting for you to accept the truth.

[내지민이🩵]

(My Jiminie🩵)

im sorry oppa

let’s not keep dragging this out

you know we’ve been over for a while

You stared at it for a moment. No typing dots. No follow-up.

It was from your now ex-girlfriend, Jimin - Yu Jimin, your hoobae from SNU. You met on campus, she was in Interior Design and you were finishing up your architecture degree. She was popular - the looks, the bright energy, the bubbly personality, she had it all. People noticed her. A lot of guys chased after her. But somehow, she’d only looked at you. She was the one who confessed first - bold, smiling, a little nervous. You still remembered the way she’d asked if you always looked that serious, even when the sky looked nice. Somehow you’d ended up together. For almost 2 years. At one point, Jimin was even talking about moving in together. But… it hadn’t been good for a while. She said she’d been tired and you had no better excuse than ‘I’ve been busy’. You weren’t cheating. You weren’t lying. You loved her too much for that.

But last night - the look in Jimin’s eyes told you she was serious. You got down your knees in the middle of the street, apologizing and begging her for one last chance with tears in your eyes. You never thought you’d ever be that desperate, pleading guy in a drama. You never really begged for anything before. But last night, you begged for her. Jimin cried too, but she still walked away. No yelling, no accusations. She said it hurt too much to keep this relationship alive. She didn’t hate you but she couldn’t survive loving you like this anymore.

You cried too. Harder than you ever had. So much that you weren’t even sure if you could make it to Hong Kong today. But somehow you managed.

Your studio, DPR, was young but quickly gained a reputation for its thoughtful and unique design. It was catching attention, even getting shortlisted for awards in the recent months. You’d joined it after graduating from SNU - one of their only rare junior hires as the team started expanding. The founder - your boss, Yu Barom, was only in his late 30s - maybe a bit young for his field but respected by many for his work. There was something easy about talking with him - not quite a mentor, more of a close friend. He noticed the shift in you for the past few months but he never pushed. When a partner in Hong Kong invited your studio to consult on a small renovation project, he offered it to you.

“Take the job, Haejoon-ah.” he said. “Explore Hong Kong a bit, maybe get lost for a few days. Might help.”

You knew it wasn’t about the project. Still, you were thankful for the chance - not just for work but also for his understanding behind it. You were still lost in that thought when the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. Well… enough sadness. It was time to get your shit together and board the plane.

Somewhere in the sky, you found yourself staring out the window, watching Korea disappear into clouds. Becoming an architect was never really something you planned - maybe not at first. But you were good with your hands, better with space than words and building things just felt like the one thing you could make sense of the world around you. You weren’t from money, nothing was ever handed to you easily. But you worked your way up, maybe got lucky along the way - through school, through military service, through sleepless nights at SNU until you ended up here. Thirty years old. Employed straight after university, luckily, in this economy. Respected. And still somehow feeling like something or maybe someone was missing in your life.

The next few days passed in a blur - full of site visits, meetings and late night drafts. The renovation project wasn’t anything massive - just a quiet redesign of a small hotel tucked along Sheung Wan. The work culture in Hong Kong was a bit fast paced but nothing you couldn’t keep up with. You spent your days listening, observing and sketching like you always did. Hong Kong was packed but beautiful, chaotic and sharp-edged in a way Seoul wasn’t.

A bit like that game, Sleeping Dogs. Minus the kungfu part. Underrated game.

Until that day, your early meeting had been canceled and you decided to wander around with no purpose, letting the city carry you away. At some point, you ended up at Tsim Sha Tsui harbor, the scenery looked exactly like those in the 90s Hong Kong movies. And there, tucked at the end of the Star Ferry Pier was a clean, minimalist cafe. You’d seen a bunch of those cafes before. Clean concrete, soft wood counters, art gallery vibes. A cup of coffee won’t hurt. But damn, Hong Kong was fucking expensive. You wandered near the window to calm yourself down while watching the world move. The bitterness hit a bit but you didn’t mind. Not there for the coffee anyway.

Then she walked in. She took your breath the moment she got into your vision. She was wearing a matching cream and navy stripes crochet set. The cropped cardigan clung lightly to her shoulders, unbuttoned to show the black top underneath. Her high waisted shorts helped compliment her long legs, making her already tall frame even more attractive. Her long hair was braided over one shoulder, giving her look a retro but not too old fashioned vibe. A thin choker with a small pendant was wrapped around her neck, and those earrings just made her look so elegant and rich. But the main point of her look was the glasses. She walked in while adjusting them - casual but confident, like she knew people were watching her. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She ordered in English, voice soft but confident? Sounded a bit American? Tourist?

You didn’t really care at first, not until she ran into trouble while paying. Her card wasn’t going through. She shifted awkwardly and laughed it off with the barista then muttered something out of frustration. In Korean, loud enough for you to hear.

“아 뭐야, 또 왜 이래…?”

(What the hell, again…?)

Korean!

Before you could think of anything else, you stood up and walked to the counter, phone already in hand.

“It’s ok. I’ll pay for her.” you said in English - more confident than you thought.

She turned, blinking in surprise.

“Oh no! Please, you don’t have to…” in English again.

You shook head slightly and switched back to Korean.

“I’m Korean, too. It’s fine.”

She hesitated for a second then offered a small bow with a tint of pink on her cheeks.

“Ah… thank you so much. Really.” voice now relieved. “I didn’t expect to run into a Korean here.”

“Me neither.” you offered a small smile.

She took her drink from the counter then just stood there clutching her cup of coffee with both hands for a moment. She wasn’t moving away. Her eyes flickered around the cafe then landed back on you.

Shit… she’s so beautiful.

You glanced at an empty table near the window.

“Do you… want to sit with me?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

“Ah-umm…” she was caught off guard for a second, eyes dropping to her drink then back to you. Then she let out a soft laugh.

“I mean… yeah. Sure.”

The both of you moved to sit down, she carefully placed her cup of coffee before adjusting her cardigan slightly. You noticed how she kept tucking those few strands of her behind her ear, like she was nervous of something. Neither of you said anything for a moment.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” she finally spoke first, the corners of her lips curling slightly.

“No, you’re doing fine.” you smiled.

She nodded, taking a sip of coffee before smiling again.

“...Can I ask for your name?” her voice was a bit more confident now. “Feels weird just saying ‘thank you’ to a stranger.”

You chuckled under your breath.

“Yeah, it’s true. I’m Haejoon. Han Haejoon. And you?”

“I’m Jang Wonyoung.”

“Nice name. It suits you a lot.” you meant it.

There was a beat. Then she tilted her head, slightly blushing.

“Can I ask how old are you, Haejoon-ssi? Just… you know. So we know how to talk.”

You smiled.

“I’m thirty, in Korean age. International… twenty nine.”

“I’m twenty two, so… Oppa?” she replied immediately, her eyes were sparkling - like she was testing you, waiting for a reaction.

Fuck.

You coughed. Only once. Just enough to embarrass yourself. You then looked down at your coffee like it suddenly needed your attention.

“That’s fine. I mean, if you’re comfortable with that…”

You scratched the back of your neck.

“Or not. I don’t… mmm, whatever works best for you.”

She laughed - really laughed this time, covering her mouth with two hands. She was clearly enjoying how flustered you got.

“You’re really shy for someone who just rescued me with a cup of coffee, oppa.” she teased.

You raised one eyebrow, trying to recover.

“Yeah, well. Confidence is situational sometimes.”

Wonyoung took another sip of her drink, eyes quietly scanning you from head to toe then landing back on your eyes.

“You don’t look like a tourist, oppa.” she said, tilting her head. “Are you living here?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m here for work. A short project.”

She nodded slowly, fingers playing with her cup.

“I thought so. You look like you just stepped out of a meeting or something.”

You glanced at yourself - slightly dark tailored suit, the shirt still stiff from rushing in the morning.

“Too obvious?” you asked, smirking.

“A little.” she grinned. “But in a good way. Sharp. Clean hairstyle. Professional. Korean vibe, definitely.”

“Thanks… I think.”

She covered her laugh with her hands again. Feminine. Effortless. Drawing you right in.

“Where do you live in Korea, oppa?” her tone still playful but curious.

“Uhm, Seoul.” you replied. “Mapo-gu side. Not too far from Yeonnam-dong.”

“No way. I live over there too. Right on the edge of Yeonnam, close to Mangwon market.” she gasped a bit.

“Really?” you blinked.

“Um, my friends and I are actually planning to open a floral studio somewhere around that area.”

You leaned back, surprised but kind of amused.

“That’s fairly close.”

“Fate?” she teased.

“Are you stalking me or something?” you narrowed your eyes, taking a risky shot.

Wonyoung gasped, clearly playing it for effect.

“Oh no… I’ve been caught. I guess I’ll have to find a new victim.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Nah, you don’t look like the criminal type.”

She sipped her drink with a small smile. “That’s how we criminals get you.”

You leaned forward a little, resting your forearms on the table.

“Floral Studio? Is that your full time job?”

She pouted her lips a bit before answering.

“Kind of. Maybe not yet. I just finished school a few months ago. Took a break to travel around with my friends before… you know, real life hits.”

“Graduated from?”

“Ewha” she replied. “Fine Arts. I focused on stuff like fabric theory or styling but ended up falling in love with floral work along the way. I guess it also makes sense because I’ve liked it since I was a kid.”

“Floral work… Like not exactly a florist but arrangements and stuff?” you hummed.

Wonyoung nodded, swirling her coffee around.

“Yup, like styling, visual work… Maybe it sounds a bit corny but I like how flowers can change the vibe of a place. I did a few stuff with bridal studios, concept shops, even a magazine shoot, once. I guess it just clicked along the way.”

You leaned back again, amazed.

“So not a shop that only sells flowers.”

She smiled.

“Definitely not that. I don’t just want to sell flowers. I want to create spaces and atmosphere that bring memories or scent to people. Does that even make sense?”

“Actually, yeah. It does.” you gave her a small nod, impressed.

There was a brief pause before she spoke up again.

“I don’t know if it’ll work yet,” she said, looking down at her cup then back at you. “But we’re giving it a shot.”

“And ‘we’ is…?”

“My friends. Two of them. We’ve been dreaming about it for a long time now. I’m actually traveling around Hong Kong with them right now.”

“That’s brave. Really.”

Wonyoung smiled at your words, cheeks faintly pink - then she suddenly looked away and pressed her lips into her cup before speaking up again.

“Why did I just overshare like that?” she mumbled. “I don’t usually talk this much with people I just met.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. It was nice to hear.”

She glanced at you from under her lashes, a little flustered. Then, she straightened.

“Anyway. What about you, oppa? What’s your job? Besides saving girls with card problems and drinking coffee at expensive places.”

“I’m an architect.” you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

“Ah, called it.” her eyes lit up.

“You guessed?” you blinked.

“Nice tailored suit. Clean look. Sharp eyes. You’re either an architect or a rich guy who works in finance. Or IT.”

You raised a brow. “Are you always this observant?”

“Only when I’m bored.” she smiled again, this time relaxed.

Then she paused, eyes narrowing.

“Wait. If you think I’m that observant… guess my MBTI, oppa.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

“We’re moving on to MBTI already?”

“It’s fun, oppa. Every Korean has to do this. C’mon, one guess.” she said, leaning in.

You studied Wonyoung for a second. Confident posture. Confident speech. The way she caught herself oversharing but owned it anyway. Stylish. So goddamn beautiful, too.

“You gotta be an E…”

Her eyes sparkled a bit.

“EN… No, ES… ESTJ.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“How?

“Confident. Bright energy. I’d say organized but a bit dramatic. The good kind. I’d say stylish too but that doesn’t really count in MBTI.” you just smiled, taking a sip of your coffee like it was obvious.

I got a bit lucky too, Wonyoung-ah.

Wonyoung squinted at you.

“Okay, wait. That’s scary. I’m an actual ESTJ.”

“I’m good, right? Got it on the first try.”

“I’m suspicious now.” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Do you just study MBTIs in your free time?”

“Nope. An architect’s instinct. I worked with many different types of people too.”

She smiled. “Alright, my turn. Let me guess yours.”

You leaned back, enjoying her presence.

Wonyoung’s lips slightly pursed in thought.

“You’re definitely not an E. Too calm. Quiet but not too awkward. You seem like you hate small talk but… listen well. Hmm..”

Here’s your chance.

You saw your chance and went right for it.

“Maybe I do hate small talk.” you said, your voice steady.

“Just… not with you, apparently.”

Smooth.

Wonyoung’s eyes widened just a bit - not expecting that. She blinked then let out a lovely laugh, flustered but pulling her hands up to cover her face.

“...Wow, okay.”

“That was smooth, oppa. You don’t really seem like the flirty type.”

You shrugged, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth.

“No, I’m not. Also, confidence is situational, remember?”

Wonyoung shook her head, laughing into her hands for a second before finally lowering them again. Her cheeks were a soft shade of pink, eyes still amused.

“I swear, if this is how you talk to every girl you meet…”

You raised both your hands in defense.

“I swear on my architect degree, from SNU - you’re the first.”

Wonyoung blinked.

“Wait. Seoul National University?”

You nodded.

“No way.” she stared at you for a second, genuinely taken aback.

“Why? Is that surprising?” you smiled, a little unsure.

“Yeah, that’s like the SNU. Our country’s top school so… you must be something yourself.”

You chuckled, shy now.

“Well… yeah. It wasn’t easy.”

She shook her head slowly, lips parting a little.

“That’s seriously impressive, oppa. I’m kind of… wow. No wonder you’re all quiet and mysterious.”

You laughed under your breath.

“Mysterious? That’s a first.”

“You’ve got that hidden backstory energy, oppa. Do you like, build buildings and stuff?” she asked, sipping her drink.

You smiled at her wording.

“Not exactly. I don’t physically go out with a hammer, if that’s what you’re picturing. I design them. Sometimes interior stuff too.”

Wonyoung laughed, covering her smile again with her hand - a habit you were finding endearing. But it was her eyes that got you. The way they shut lightly when she smiled or laughed, crinkling just a bit at the corner - genuine. Soft. Like the kind of laugh that showed she wasn’t pretending with you. You didn’t mean to stare, but you did. Just a bit longer than you should have.

“Do I have something on my face, oppa?”

“Nothing… Uh, your eyes look pretty when you laugh.”

She paused, her ears turning pink.

“...Well, that’s nice of you to say that.”

You were now aware of how warm your face felt too.

“I mean, it’s true.”

You leaned back slightly, gaze drifting toward the window before returning to Wonyoung. An awkward pause before you spoke.

“Anyway… yeah. I’m taking the architectural license exam this August. And then two other stages… at the end of the year. Then if things go well, I will finally be a licensed architect.”

“Hmm… that’s a big deal, isn’t it?” Wonyoung blinked, clearly impressed.

“It’s… a long time coming.”

“That’s amazing,” her voice sounded so genuine. “Like, really impressive. You must’ve worked so hard for this.”

You shrugged. Wonyoung’s words hit deeper than you expected. She then leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand with her eyes on you.

“I don’t know. There’s something really attractive about people who build things. Like it’s not just work… Care, thought, vision…”

You let her words settle in the space, trying to figure out what this beautiful girl is trying to do. Then she tilted her head slightly with her chin still resting in her palm.

“Wait… can I ask you something a bit random?”

“Sure.” you replied, curious.

“Did you do your military service already? Or are you one of those guys who contribute something big to the country and get exempt status?”

You laughed, it did catch you off guard a little.

“I’m not that lucky. I did mine right after high school.”

“Wow, so you got it out of the way early.” her eyes widened a bit.

“So if someone dates you now, oppa… They don’t have to worry about you disappearing for two years?”

“That’s one way to… put it.” you said with a low laugh. “Guess I’m low risk that way.”

She nodded, like she was seriously considering it.

“Good to know.”

A short pause came again. Wonyoung glanced at you, down at her coffee, swirling around for a bit. Then she spoke with her eyes still on the cup - quieter this time.

“Umm… can I have your number, oppa?”

She peeked up at you, her tone casual but her cheeks a little pink.

“Just in case I need to repay you for the coffee. Or, you know… if you feel like talking again.”

You smiled - couldn’t help it.

“Sure,” you said while pulling out your phone. “I’d love to meet you again.”

She took your phone gently, fingers moving quickly as she typed something in.

“Oh - do you want my Instagram too, oppa?” she asked, glancing up with a slight tilt of her head. “Just in case Kakao feels too formal.”

“Sure. Just head into the app and follow your account.” you chuckled.

She did exactly that, tapping around before handing it back to you. You looked at the contact name and had to bite a laugh back.

워녕이녕이🐰

(Wonyoungie🐰)

“A bunny?” you asked.

She looked smug, proud of herself.

“People say I look like one.”

“Hmm, accurate.”

You barely had time to glance up when two other girls walked in - both stylish, maybe around Wonyoung’s age, laughing about something between them. One girl spotted her first.

“Wonyoung-ah!”

Wonyoung turned, eyes lighting up.

“Oh, unnie. Here!”

But then, the other girl’s gaze shifted to you - and paused. Recognition ran straight to your brain instantly.

“Haejoon-oppa?”

“Yena?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The four of you ended up at the same table, drinks in hands. Yena sat between you and Wonyoung, occasionally throwing glances your way, while Hyewon, her other friend, chimed in now and then with curiosity.

Yena and you had always had a nice relationship - playful jabs, easy conversation and banter, which was easy when you did military service with her older brother years ago. She’d seen you through highs and lows. Wonyoung seemed both surprised and amused - not uncomfortable. If anything, she looked a little more relaxed now, sipping her coffee as conversations bounced around. Then, in a moment when the other two were distracted, Yena leaned in closer to you while lowering her voice.

“Oppa… are you cheating on Jimin in Hong Kong?”

You froze a bit, the question hitting harder than it should’ve. You absolutely forgot about Jimin when Wonyoung got here. Which was incredible - considering Jimin was on your mind 24/7 ever since you landed in Hong Kong.

“No.” you swallowed once. “We broke up like almost two weeks ago.”

Yena’s brow lifted. “Really?”

You nodded slowly.

“Just before I left for Hong Kong. She didn’t tell anyone yet, I guess.”

She leaned back slightly, eyes scanning your face, maybe she was trying to figure out if you were serious or you were considering cheating on Jimin with the girl sitting next to her. You met Yena’s gaze. You weren’t in the mood to defend yourself - especially when things already ended the way it did.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” her voice genuine, a mix of apology and shock.

“I mean… it hadn’t been good for a while.”

Yena didn’t press further. She just nodded the turned back toward the others, tone shifting back to light as if nothing just happened. Then, you felt Wonyoung glancing at you - her gaze was curious. She hadn’t heard the exchange. But something told you she noticed the shift in your face. And you weren’t sure if that made you uneasy or a little more drawn to her.

How did I forget about Jimin so easily when you got here?

The conversation drifted back into easier topics - the weather, their trip, stuff in Hong Kong. You stayed mostly quiet, letting the girls talk, sipping your coffee while catching Wonyoung’s gaze looking at you now and then. Then, Yena suggested, casually.

“Oh, oppa. We’re going to eat somewhere at those skyline places tonight. Wanna come?”

Wonyoung looked at you. Her lips pressed like she was trying not to smile but the tiniest spark lit up in her eyes. She didn’t say anything right away, but the others knew.

You looked at Hyewon.

“Are you sure?”

She just smiled and shrugged, totally chill.

“It’s fine, oppa. More people, more food.”

Yena raised an eyebrow at you, half a smirk on her face - clearly excited.

“Soooo?”

Your gaze turned to Wonyoung, who now was clearly staring right at you.

“Umm… yeah, I’m in.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You sat on your bed in the nice hotel room that Barom booked for you, studio money - crazy money by the way. You were still in your suit, tie slightly loosened now. A lot went through your mind after you left the cafe. For some reason, you didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts for too long. Like usual, you tapped into your contacts and hit call on your favorite person whenever you were in a situation like this

[다빈형] (Dabin-hyung)

He picked up on the third ring.

“Uh. You alive over there? In lovely Hong Kong?”

“Barely.” you let out a breath, tired. “Also, hyung, are you on the toilet?”

“I’m efficient with my time, man.” he said, completely unbothered. “What’s up? You miss me or are you in trouble right now?”

You rubbed your face. “No, not really.” “Got time to walk around Hong Kong yet? You’ve been there for like one, two weeks?”

“Barely.”

“Site visits killed you already?”

“Nope, not that.” you lied back on the back, staring at the ceiling.

“I met someone today.”

There was a short pause. Then a groan came from the other line.

“Damn… Don’t tell me you fell in love mid site visit like that. Is she from Hong Kong? Or is it a he? Wait… is it a he?”

“Hyung, shut up. It’s not like that. I just… I don’t know. I feel weird.”

“What kind of weird?”

You hesitated.

“Good weird, I think... Bad timing.”

“You thinking about her again?” Dabin hummed knowingly.

You didn’t even have to mention who her was.

“I forgot about Jimin today,” you said. “Just… like completely forgot. The second this girl walked in.”

“Is she from Hong Kong?”

“Uh… no, from Korea. Seoul. Lives near Yeonnam-dong too. Super weird.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not kidding.”

“She’s traveling with her two friends. One of them is a close friend of mine, I enlisted with her brother at the same time.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Yeah, but this girl… She’s bubbly, cute, beautiful… said she’s about to open a floral studio with her friends. There’s something about her, flirty but just enough. She… uh.” you trailed off, suddenly self conscious.

“She called me oppa like five minutes after meeting me. I swear, hyung, my brain just shut off right there.”

A snort came from the other line.

“Jesus Christ. You’re down bad.” he said, his American accent popping off.

“I’m not, hyung.”

“You are, Haejoon-ah. You forgot your ex for hours because the way a pretty stranger said oppa sounded so sweet. That’s not normal, at least for you.”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face.

“I’m just… confused, okay? I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one plans to fall in love in foreign land, Haejoon-ah. It just happens.”

You laughed, maybe at yourself.

“She’s different, hyung. She’s bold but sweet, confident but also shy. She actually listened when I talked about my architecture license exam - like, really listened.”

“Huh… that’s a first. You rant for hours about this and it always scares women off.”

“C’mon, man.”

A beat passed, then Dabin’s voice softened.

“Look, I get it. You’re in a weird place - post breakup, in Hong Kong, maybe tired from all the work. But it feels ok to feel something, even if you don’t know what it is yet. Just overthink it too much.”

You closed your eyes for a second.

“I’m having dinner with them tonight.”

“Already? I thought you’re shy and all.”

“No, not like that. Yena’s there. Our mutual friend. She invited me.”

“And you said yes.”

You hesitated. “Well… yeah.”

“Good.” he sounded satisfied.

“At worst, free dinner and maybe a decent view. At best, you get a second chance at romance.”

You didn’t reply to him right away.

“Maybe I’m her type.” you added under your breath.

“The way she talked to me… you know.”

Another snort.

“You’re so screwed.”

You stayed quiet for a second, and he didn’t let that slide.

“Seriously, though - this is why you can’t do casual, Haejoon-ah. You were built to be a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not-” you groaned.

“You are, dumbass.” he cut in, in English, then the latter part back in Korean.

“You look and act quiet all the time but deep down you want to be in love. You just won’t admit it.”

You turned around on the bed.

“She smiled so prettily, hyung.”

“Oh god.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. That’s what makes this fun to watch.”

You smiled a little.

“Shut up and get out of the toilet, man.”

“Already did. I multitask really well.”

You shook your head.

“Anyway, thanks hyung.”

“Anytime, man. Don’t overthink stuff. You always do that. Wear something good and enjoy the dinner. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I overthink a lot.”

“Yeah, go impress your floral girl. I’m out.”

And he hung up. You stayed there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe you were really screwed. But you didn’t hate the feeling.

The steam still lingered faintly in the bathroom mirror when you stepped out of the shower. Were you nervous? Not too sure. You dried off and ran your hands through your hair and sprayed on a bit of cologne. Then you reached for the shirt - the striped Oxford you’d laid out before the shower. Clean lines, soft fabric. It slipped on easy, giving a casual but sharp vibe - yeah, you’d pulled this off before. You rolled the sleeves and went for the white trousers. Not quite clean fit but slightly wide legged, relaxed. Your shoes were black, polished, a little more formal but complimented the look well. Casual, comfortable, but presentable. Just the right line between effortless and intentional, you thought so.

You were reaching for your watch and glasses when your phone buzzed on the bed. It was Dabin.

[다빈형]

don’t chicken out man

just act like your normal self and you’ll be fine

You stared at the screen, lips twitching. Typical. You slid on your watch, put on the glasses and gave yourself one last look in the mirror. You didn’t forget to grab the wallet before reaching for the door.

Let’s see where the night goes.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped into what felt like another world. Hong Kong was really like those 90s movies, or even better. The restaurant wasn’t open air, it didn’t need to be with this kind of view. Glasses stretched from floor to ceiling, wrapping around the entire dining space, revealing the Hong Kong skyline in its night glory. The scenery below shimmered like jewels, skyscrapers glowing in all kinds of colors as the city exhaled into the night. On the far side, Victoria Peak…is it Victoria Peak?... cast a quiet silhouette against the fading sunset. Inside, the lighting was soft and warm - elegant and expansive. It was decorated with polished floors and golden accents. Everything didn’t feel loud - just intentional, to emphasize that quiet luxury vibe. A curved bar hugged one side of the room. Every detail, from the wine bottles gleaming to the jazz music felt like it was designed to make you stay longer and spend more.

You scanned around the space - there they were. Near the window, seated at probably one of the best tables in the restaurant, Wonyoung along with Hyewon and Yena looked like they really belonged there. And next to Wonyoung, an empty seat was waiting for you. Here we go. You exhaled once, calming yourself before walking toward them.

Yena spotted you first as she lit up and raised one hand, half standing from her seat.

“Oppa! Over here.”

Hyewon turned and gave you a small, friendly wave.

Wonyoung looked up at you briefly then dropped her gaze with a small smile. A bit shy, maybe. You reached for the table. She was wearing a tweed mini-dress, the kind of clothing that looked straight out of a Milan runway but still fit her like it was custom made. Those golden sequin trimming sat at the collar, cuffs, and hem - giving her look a playful yet youthful, elegant vibe. It caught the warm restaurant lighting so well whenever she moved. Her hair was down, long and softly curled over one shoulder. Her bangs emphasized her features so well, giving her an almost doll like vibe. But it wasn’t just about the look. The way she carried herself - composed, like she was completely at ease in this kind of place.

This girl must come from royalty.

You found yourself smiling at Wonyoung before you even realized it.

“Sorry, I’m late.” you said, adjusting your watch out of habit. “Hong Kong traffic was insane.”

Yena scoffed dramatically.

“We were about to order without you, oppa.”

“Yah, you were not.” Hyewon added with a laugh, nudging Yena lightly.

Wonyoung didn’t say anything, fingers fiddling with her wine glass before looking up at you again.

“At least you made it.” she smiled.

You scratch the back of your neck out of habit.

“Yeah… wouldn’t want to miss the view,” you said, eyes flicking briefly to hers before quickly adding.

“I mean, the city - the skyline.”

Wonyoung looked like she was trying not to smile too much. You nodded towards the empty seat toward the empty seat beside her.

“This one mine?”

“Obviously, oppa.” Yena smirked. “Where else?”

You then carefully slid into the seat beside Wonyoung - close enough to catch the subtle perfume she wore, faint but lingering. Deadly. Her arm brushed lightly against yours as she shifted, and neither of you moved away too quickly.

“Glad you could make it.” she whispered loud enough for the two of you to hear.

You turned your head, this time not able to look her in the eyes.

“Me too. You look stunning by the way.”

That made her pause for just a short beat. Then her smile appeared - a little shy, a little warm.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, oppa.” Wonyoung tilted her head.

“That shirt looks really good on you.”

It was your turn to be shy, unsure whether to thank or deflect this time, but-

“So how’s Hong Kong treating you, oppa?” Yuna cut in, her eyes glinting as she leaned across the table with her face in her palm. “Working hard? Or just pretending to?”

You exhaled, wasn’t even sure if you were thankful or disappointed with this vibe shift.

“Umm… both, I guess. It’s not a big project but we’re packing in as much as we can.”

“What’s the project again?” Hyewon asked, curious.

“A small hotel in Sheung Wan. Mostly renovation. Nothing massive but enough to keep me up the past few nights.”

Wonyoung gave you a knowing glance.

“Sounds like you don’t get enough sleep.”

The corner of your mouth was tugging upward.

“Yeah, well… comes with the job, I guess. Can’t really complain.”

She hummed softly in response - like she understood more than she let on.

“Still… I hope you get at least one good night here. Would be a waste otherwise.”

You glanced at her, something light but still meaningful passed between the two of you.

“Sooo” Yena cut in, eyes sharp with curiosity. “What’s it like back in Korea? Your job, I mean. You said your studio’s in Seoul, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s on Mapo-gu side. I got snapped up right after I finished the five year program, it was hell - honestly.”

“Architecture major?” Hyewon asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, SNU. Lucky enough to land the job straight out. The team’s pretty tight - a younger studio but we’ve been gaining attention lately. That’s why I can’t sleep these days.”

“Ooh, smart and stable.” Yena said with a fake dramatic tone. “Sounds like someone’s type.”

Wonyoung muttered something under her breath, half laughing.

You ignored the burning feeling on your ears and continued.

“The pay’s not insane, but good enough for me to afford a nice apartment, help my family and still have enough to save… or splurge once in a while. I’m taking the architect license exam this year so… hopefully better pay after that.”

“Help your family?” Hyewon repeated. “That’s really good of you.”

You nodded, now a little self conscious under the weight of their attention.

“I mean… they did a lot for me. Wouldn’t be here without them.”

Wonyoung gently traced the rim of her wine glass. The way she looked at you had changed. Warmer. Respectful, maybe. Enough to kill you.

“And what do you splurge on, oppa?” Yena swooped back in with a grin. “Don’t say boring stuff like books or anything like that.”

You chuckled.

“I mean… I bought a nice car off from a friend a year ago. Sometimes… travel, hobbies if I have time. And, you know - those dinners where my friends drag me out and the wine list has names I can’t even pronounce but I pretend anyway.”

That earned a laugh from Hyewon.

Wonyoung tilted her head.

“Ooh, red or white, oppa?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I mean, they taste the same to me. Anything is fine, depends on the company.”

Wonyoung blinked before looking away at the Hong Kong skyline with a breathy laugh, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear like she was trying to compose herself.

“Oh, wow.” Yena muttered.

“You really are someone’s type.”

You looked down at your glass. You didn’t mean to put it like that. Whatever the case was, it lingered in the air between you and Wonyoung, even as Hyewon and Yena picked the conversation back up.

“Okay, we need food before I get drunk. Who’s hungry now?” Hyewon was already looking at the waiter.

You relaxed into your seat, feeling Wonyoung leaning closer to you. But neither of you pulled away.

By the time the food arrived, the atmosphere had settled into something warmer. Comfortable. It came with good drinks and beautiful Hong Kong city lights, with laughter spilling out between bites. You were swirling your wine glass absentmindedly, half listening to Yena and Hyewon debate over where to go after this. Then the conversation drifted again.

“So how was that spot you and Yena-unnie went to see? The one near the bookstore?” Hyewon turned to Wonyoung as she asked. Wonyoung’s face lit up instantly.

“Oh, it was actually so cute.” she said, nodding. “In Yeonnam-dong, not too big but the lighting’s really great. Especially in the afternoon.”

“And the outside looks beautiful too.” Yena added, grinning. “We were already planning a small coffee counter in front and Instagram photo spots.”

Hyewon looked impressed.

“You two were out there for like, what, over two hours?”

“Over one hour, unnie.” Wonyoung replied, smiling. “But we saw the vision.”

You looked between them, your architect side was genuinely intrigued now.

“Sounds like a solid location.”

“It is,” Wonyoung said, her voice certain. “We’ve been talking about this studio for so long, it finally feels like it’s happening.”

“We’re just basically waiting on the right person to help us design it,” Yena added, throwing glances your way.

Hyewon caught the way Yena looked at you and smirked. “You’re not even subtle now.”

You raised your eyebrows, not saying anything yet. Wonyoung, however, didn’t look away.

“We had someone before, but the timing didn’t work out. So…” she said, calm. “We’re open to new ideas.”

Then she tilted her head just slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

“Or maybe the right person’s already here.”

A short pause arrived at the table. You exhaled a small laugh, surprised but not at all opposed.

“That sounds a lot like a pitch.”

She smirked, smiling into her wine glass. You glanced down at your plate, suddenly a little more aware of how warm your face felt.

“I mean, I could show you guys some on the projects I’ve worked on. If you’re curious.”

Wonyoung looked up first.

“Really, oppa?”

“Yeah, I got a few files on my phone. Not all flashy, but solid enough.”

“Solid enough?” Yena said. “You’re underselling yourself, oppa.”

“I’m just saying.” you muttered, “They’re not exactly viral cafe material or anything.”

“Still.” Wonyoung said, her tone softer now. “We’d love to see them.”

Her gaze lingered, warm and steady. She really meant it.

“We’re serious.” she added. “Send them later. Or show us now if you want.”

You hesitated for half a second, then reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, unlocking it with a swipe.

“...Okay. Just don’t expect an aesthetic Pinterest board.”

Yena immediately. “Don’t worry, oppa. We’re not like that.”

You opened an app and tapped into a folder you hadn’t shared with anyone in a while now - site photos, render stuff, construction shots and a few finished interior works. Some cafes, a private rooftop home renovation, even a small art gallery for a chaebol’s daughter tucked in some corner of Gangnam-gu, that project paid really well. All designed just the way you liked it.

The three of them scooted in without hesitation, gathering on your side of the table. Yena leaned over your right shoulder. Hyewon peered in from across the table, leaning closer to get a better look. And Wonyoung - she was right next to you, too close. You could smell her perfume again. Then, without warning, she shifted even closer and rested her chin or your shoulder, like it was nothing. You felt like you were clinically dead. Her fingers reached out for the cuff of your rolled up sleeve. She began fidgeting with the fabric - gently folding it up and down, smoothing it out like it needed her help. Like she knew she was clearly setting every nerve in your arm on fire. Your breath stopped for a moment and your heart felt like it forgot how to beat. No one else seemed to notice.

For the next fifteen minutes, the restaurant faded out. They asked about your lighting choices, space planning, even what kind of clients you dealt with.

“You can go into the other folder. There are more pictures…uh, easier to see how they turned out.” you said.

Wonyoung lifted her chin slightly and reached forward, tapping the screen.

“This one?”

“Yeah, that’s the finished shot.”

Her eyes scanned the photo, then she smiled - drawing you in.

“I like how you designed this space,” she pointed at a spot on the screen. “It feels like a nice touch. Like it’s lived in.”

And then - as if it was the most natural thing in the world - she replaced the hand that had been playing with your sleeves with the other one, letting her fingers drift along the back of your hand. She traced small circles there. You knew, she was actively trapping you with the gentlest, most casual touch in history.

She’s got you good now.

You didn’t even know how to feel anymore. She didn’t look at you but her fingers never stopped moving. Yena and Hyewon, on the other hand, were busy talking and discussing about how the design would fit into their studio - where the flower prep area could be, how much the light could control the whole space, how their storage area could be hidden. And then, Yena swiped one more time before pausing.

That photo. You were standing in the middle of a large gallery, dressed sharp and clean. On one side, Moon Seo-yoon - the chaebol’s daughter - radiant in a white jumpsuit. On the other side, her supermodel friend, Lee Gawon. Their arms hooked through yours and leaning a little too close to your shoulder, Gawon's face tilted toward yours like she had something to tell you.

Oh fuck. That wasn’t supposed to be in there.

“Wait, oppa.” Yena gasped. “Is that you?”

You cleared your throat, dreading this already.

“Uh, yeah, The small art gallery for the chaebol’s daughter I told you guys about a few minutes ago. That’s… uh, Moon Seo-yoon. The opening for her art gallery.”

Hyewon leaned in closer to confirm. “The Shinsegae girl?! You worked with her?”

“Uh… yeah,” you muttered, the wine glass suddenly looked so interesting.

Yena squinted at the screen. “Is that… Gawon?! The model Gawon?!”

You nodded slowly.

“Yeah, she’s friends with Seo-yoon. That was…kind of a last-minute invite.”

Yena let out a low whistle. “You really are in the higher society, oppa.”

“No, I’m not that kind of person. I just… work with them a lot.”

And just as you were mentally preparing for another disaster to strike, you felt Wonyoung’s fingers rhythm change - no more circles. She pinched the skin near your knuckle.

Once.

Twice.

Quick. Barely painful but somehow definitely felt too territorial. You turned your head slowly to look at her, your eyes wide. Wonyoung wasn’t looking at you - her face was perfectly neutral, like she was just watching Yena scrolling on the phone and nothing else. She nodded, playing along. You felt like she just claimed ownership of you in front of her two best friends. But her fingers returned to exactly where they were moments ago, this time resting against yours.

And then, just as your heart began to settle, Wonyoung launched another attack. You felt a soft pressure on your shoe, the tip of hers stepping lightly on yours under the table. Just enough to let you know she was there. That she knew exactly what she was doing. You couldn’t move. Not when she had a hold of your hand and foot.

Your ears were burning. Your chest was tight. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Wonyoung said nothing. Then-

“Wait-” Yena spoke up, rescuing you from the moment. “Is that who I think it is?”

Hyewon gasped. “No way.”

“Huh?” you blinked, dazed.

“This one.” Yena turned the photo to show a photo of you, maybe a few months ago. You, standing inside of what looked like a sleek, private room. Behind you were works of art - like actual pieces from international artists, you didn’t know who they were but their paintings seemed too expensive for you. They didn’t pay attention to that. But more importantly, right beside you stood T.O.P from BIGBANG, hand over your shoulders, smiling while wearing sunglasses even indoors. To your left, an actor and some directors. Well, not an ameteur actor. It was the Lee Byung-hun. Yena looked at you, mouth open.

“Oppa. You know T.O.P and Lee Byung-hun? Why does he have his arm over your shoulder like you two hang out?”

“It was his gallery room at his house.” you replied, the pressure of Wonyoung was still on yours, like she was still making a silent claim.

“I helped… uh, worked on that. Not alone, obviously. But he was really cool. I've been a big fan of BIGBANG since I was a kid so…”

“You were at his house?” Hyewon asked, eyes wide.

“Just for meetings and other stuff.” you said quickly. “And a few celebrations.”

Yena shook her head in disbelief.

“Is this normal for you? Like high profile people and celebrities?”

You let out a breath, thinking of what to say. “No, not really. Our studio does a lot of stuff for those people, private commissions and stuff. I just happened to end up working with them sometimes.” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual.

None of those celebrities, those clients had ever made you feel as dismantled as you felt right now - under Wonyoung’s control. Still, you haven’t said a thing. No one else noticed the power struggle happening at the table, except the two of you. Wonyoung was winning. Effortlessly. Quietly.

Eventually, Yena passed your phone back with a shocked look in her eyes, muttering something about reevaluating her life. Hyewon sipped her drink and leaned back, stretching. Everyone shifted in her seats, the dinner settled back to its normal rhythm. Wonyoung drew her hand back and sat properly in her chair, crossed one leg over the other and turned her head towards you - her eyes soft and her voice calm.

“Oppa.” she opened, casually. “About the floral studio…”

You looked over at her, trying not to look too hopeful.

“Would you, you know… maybe help us with it?”

Her tone was light, but she didn’t smile this time. Like she really meant it.

“We want something warm and open. Something people walk into and just feel good by already being there. I think…” she paused, searching your face. “You get what we’re going for.”

There came the offer. No teasing anymore. Just honesty. You blinked twice before answering.

“Yeah… of course, I’d love to. Need a call to my boss but he trusts me.”

And this time, Wonyoung smiled.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

Before either of you could say anything, Yena clapped her hands together.

“Then let’s celebrate. More drinks. Yayyy!”

Hyewon raised her glass.

“Yayy! Cheers to our studio.”

“And to our new architect oppa who we found in Hong Kong.” Yena added, raising her glass.

You laughed under your breath as your glass clinked with theirs. Wonyoung took a sip, this one longer than the last ones. A few minutes passed in relaxed chatter, then Yena turned to Wonyoung, who was now resting her cheek on one hand, the other playing with her glass.

“Wonyoung-ah,” Yena said, suspiciously. “Are you okay? You know you’re a light drinker.”

“I’m fine, unnie.” Wonyoung replied, too quickly as she straightened up in her seat. “Totally fine.”

“You say that everytime.” Hyewon laughed.

“She’s almost at that stage.” Yena explained to you.

“She’s about to get all red, pouty and whiny. It’s slowly coming now.”

“I don’t pout.” Wonyoung mumbled in her breath, definitely pouting. You bit back a smile and looked into the scenery before she caught it.

When the bill came and the plates were cleared, the mood stayed light. Yena stretched and stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“We were gonna walk around a bit before heading back to the hotel. Maybe grab something light to eat along the way.”

Hyewon then turned to you.

“You should come with us, oppa. You’re already out, might as well stay longer, right?”

Wonyoung looked up at you then, eyes softer, sparkling under the warm lights. You paused.

“Yeah. Sure… Why not?”

The Hong Kong night air had cooled down just enough for the walk to feel nice. The four of you strolled along the Tsim Tsa Tsui Promenade, shoes tapping against the stone path as the city night life goes on in the background. Stunning. The skyline glittered on the other side of the water - skyscrapers lit up in colors, typical Hong Kong.

Yena and Hyewon had drifted ahead, laughing at something between them. You knew it wasn’t an accident. They didn’t walk too fast - just far enough to leave you and Wonyoung behind. Wonyoung? She was blushing now - cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling from the wine, her steps were slower and a bit uneven. She was still very elegant. But her restraint was on a thin line, in the most dangerous way possible. And then, this girl reached for your shirt collar. Two fingers, light grip. Enough to pull you down, her lips were close to your ear, too close. You stiffened, holding back your breath.

And then, she whispered, slow and warm:

“...I know about your ex, oppa.”

Your heart dropped, heavy.

What the fuck?

“Yu Jimin.” she added. “Yena-unnie told me about her.”

You didn’t move any further. Well, you couldn’t anyway.

“She was beautiful, you know.” Wonyoung murmured, candies to your ear.

“I spent like thirty minutes stalking her Instagram when I got back from the cafe.”

Her breath was so soft, hitting your ear and neck. Warm too. Her words did things to you that you couldn’t describe.

“Perfect skin. Beautiful face. The kind of girl that people noticed even when she’s not trying. Nice… body, too.”

You swallowed hard. You didn’t know what that tone of her was. Jealousy? Bitterness? That made it even worse. Then, Wonyoung let out a quietest laugh, enough to kill you.

“I was really sad when I thought you were one of those guys, you know? Fresh out of a breakup, walking around all polished and lonely. Looking for some new girl to satisfy your needs.”

No, I’m definitely not that type of guy.

She paused then pulled back slightly - just enough to tilt her head and look up at you, lashes heavy, smile lazy from too much wine.

“Oppa, you’re not those guys, right? 환승연애*…?”

*환승연애/hwanseung yeonae: like transit love, when some one’s fresh off a relationship, starting a new one but still deeply in love with the previous lover. Popular term recently in Korean, it went off due to a few dating programs.

Those words hit harder than any punch you ever took. You were about to answer, opening your mouth when Wonyoung cut in.

“Yena-unnie vouched for you. Said you were a really nice, serious guy. Proper. Mature. The kind of man who does not play around. Just my type, oppa.” her smile widened, just enough.

And then she slid her hand up, slowly, calculated - the one that had been resting at her side, brushing over your chest before moving up to your throat, tracing around. Then, she hooked her finger at the second button of your shirt and unbuttoned it. Just one. But it felt like she had just stripped away all of your remaining confidence. Wonyoung then looked up, her voice low, dangerous.

“I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

You blinked.

“And I’ve never acted like this around anyone before…sober or drunk.”

And then she decided to finish you off with one last action. She poked you on your chest - right where your heart was - a few times, lightly.

“So… you better gain my trust, oppa.”

Wonyoung didn’t wait for a reply. She knew she had you in the palm of her hand. She turned and kept walking to catch up with Hyewon and Yena. Her hair was flowing in the wind, shining under the city glow.

Am I in a 90s Hong Kong romance?

You stood there for a few seconds. Breath shallow, chest burning. One button undone. Wonyoung did all that to you in just under one day. You dragged your hand over your face and exhaled.

Fuck…

The four of you eventually reached the end of the promenade, a quieter area where Yena was calling for the rides, Hyewon humming something while scrolling on her phone. Wonyoung was leaning slightly against a railing, Miu Miu bag over her shoulder. This girl looked far too classy and elegant to be tipsy - until you walked to her. She turned to you when you approached, eyes a bit wide, lips pouting in that dreamy, tipsy fashion.

She could kill a thousand men with that look.

“Oppa.” she muttered.

“Was I crazy… or annoying today?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just wondering.” She leaned in again - the same way she had all night.

“I don’t act this way normally. Or touch that much. Or…”

Her voice dropped, sultry but still had you waiting.

“...look at someone like this before. I just want to let you know that.”

Without waiting for your answer, she reached up to adjust the collar of your shirt, her knuckles intentionally brushing your jaw.

“I’m a little drunk.” she whispered, cheeks blazing. What were you supposed to say now?

“But I still know what I’m doing, oppa.”

Her eyes wide, glassy, shining under the city glow. You could feel that lingering closeness. Then Yena called her, standing near a car. Wonyoung blinked slowly, like she didn’t want to let go before taking a small step back. One hand brushing her hair, the other playing with her expensive bag. Before she left, she said just one more thing. An order. Her voice low, sultry.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

And then she walked away. You were now at a new chapter in your life.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

That night, you were on your bed. The hotel ceiling felt like it was spinning slowly above. Not from the wine, you were sure. You were on your phone, looking at her Instagram.

@for_everyoung10 - she already hit the follow button when you gave her your phone to add her contacts. She had already followed you back too.

140K followers. Not a celebrity. Not an influencer. Just… Jang Wonyoung. She wasn’t exactly a model either. But you could tell a few small local brands already caught on - tagged her in photoshoots for linen clothing, soft pastel colored clothing, “princess core” type of fashion. Nothing over the top. All clean, natural. Wonyoung looked like she belonged in every frame. You scrolled. Slowly.

A few GRWM (get ready with me) vlogs in her reels.

“Hi guys, get ready with me to…”

“Today I’m going for a smart casual look…”

“I’m using this foundation from…”

Fuck… her voice is so addicting.

A few clips of her dancing around with Yena and Hyewon somewhere.

A few clips of her trying out new cafes with her other friends.

You kept going. You didn’t even know you were smiling. Or that your chest was beating irregularly. What the hell was she doing to you? You were still staring at her feed when it hit you.

Shit. The studio.

You had casually agreed to a design project on the spot - with a girl who’d unbuttoned your shirt, poked your heart and walked off like she hadn’t messed up your whole system. You sighed before tapping on the group chat with Dabin and Barom.

[You]

you guys up?

[바롬보��] (Barom Boss)

barely. why? don’t tell me u got arrested in hongkong?

[다빈형]

is it that girl again?

it’s 12am in korea rn

[You]

video?

The screen flashed. Incoming video call. You answered.

Barom’s face filled the top corner, probably on his bed too. Dabin joined later - his face already grinning.

“Okay.” Barom said. “Talk.”

You rolled over on the bed.

“Hyung, I may have… accepted another project.”

Dabin squinted. “Define may have.”

Barom raised a brow. “Define project”

You sighed.

“A floral studio. In words. In Yeonnam-dong.”

Then Barom broke into a laugh, switching to English with his Australian accent.

“A what? Since when do you design flower shops?”

“Since he met that dreamy girl this morning.” Dabin added, not without laughing.

“Why do I have to talk to you guys in English everytime?” you said.

“Deal with it. I’m your boss, us two are 교포*.” Barom replied.

*교포/gyopo: ethnic Korean but born and raised/living in foreign countries.

“Heritage.” Dabin said.

“So what’s the story? Client fell for your crisp suit and mysterious vibe.” Barom asked.

“Nothing like that.” you replied.

“Tell us.”

“So they’re just starting the studio - flower based shop, maybe a small coffee counter at the front, photo friendly interior. It’s been a passion project for them. They had someone to work on it but it didn’t work out. Wonyoung - the girl, asked me over dinner. I said yes before thinking too much about it.”

“Wonyoung?” Barom asked, confused.

“The girl I’m… you know.” you replied, rubbing your temple.

Barom nodded, like he understood exactly what you meant.

“Look, I get it. Your performance over the past few months has been solid. And honestly, we don’t have a crazy load right now. You’ve been clean on deadlines since day one. As long as it doesn’t clash with other projects, I’m okay with it. But…”

He stared right at you through the screen.

“Don’t take the job just because she’s pretty. That shit doesn’t end well.”

Dabin nodded.

“Yeah, especially with you, man.”

“C’mon, man.” you replied.

“But hey, I trust you. When you come back from Hong Kong, talk to me more about this and if it’s okay, I’ll send you out to lead this project. Like usual, you do most of the work and I just take a look at it before signing it off. Perfect teamwork.”

“Hey, thanks, man. I appreciate this trip, you know. After the break up and all that.”

Barom nodded, understanding your position.

“Yeah, you needed a break. Honestly, I should’ve made you take one sooner.”

“You almost worked yourself into death.” Dabin added.

“C’mon man…” you sighed.

“So how did you meet this girl?” Barom asked.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

After 30 minutes of video call, you set the phone down on your chest, exhaling slowly to calm yourself down. For a second, it was quiet before your phone buzzed.

[워녕이녕이🐰] sent you 2 images

You didn’t even have the chance to text her first. This girl always managed to surprise you. You tapped on the notification.

Wonyoung on her bed - makeup still there, cheeks a little flushed, long hair splayed around in that messy perfect way. The light was warm. Soft. Your brain short circuited immediately. Still staring when another text came. Stunning.

[워녕이녕이🐰]

do i look cute?

hyewon unnie took it for me

she said i looked like i was in a drama ㅋㅋㅋ

You hovered over the keyboard. Typing before you backspaced. Rewrote it.

[You]

i think you just ended me

[워녕이녕이🐰]

so should i post it on insta?

or…

keep this between us?

like a gift for u

Your heart skipped. You didn’t even know how to answer.

Damn… she got you good.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

yayy!! wony is the best!!! so i tried something new. at least that's what i thought. pls let me know what u guys think about this. i had a lot of fun writing this. thanks for reading!!

#male reader #kpop #kpop male reader #fluff #wonyoung x male reader #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung #ive #jang wonyoung #izone #yena #kang hyewon #m!reader #Spotify

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princesa-querida · 2 days ago

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¡Feliz Cumpleaños Nanami!

A sequel to this fic.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Latina Fem! Reader

WC: 3.3K

CW: Fluff, angst, light smut. Mentions of Jujutsu sorcery.

Notes: I wanted to keep writing for this type of reader. I know that being Latina/Latinx has many layers and components, so I kept some details vague. I hope that you can connect with this in some way. Also I don’t use accents lmao

Tags: @pixelcafe-network, thank you for the beta-read @lazyjellyfish300, @haithyums

Timing wasn't on your side the last time. You met a wonderful man who swept you off your feet before you departed back home. For an impromptu date, he took you to the small corners of Tokyo; you remember he took you to his favourite bakery. He didn't show a lot of emotion when he bought you his favourite pastry, a buttery croissant. You told him that butter croissants make your stomach hurt, so he quickly rectified it with a pastry of your choice. All you wanted from him was to tell you about the croissants.

Every passing moment with him made you wish you didn't have to go home. You wanted to stay with him. The way he held your hand a little tighter when you walked together told you that he must've felt the same. The day turned to night.

"Did you pack everything before your flight?" You nodded. You didn't say much because if you did, you didn't want him to see you cry. He understood the silence between you and pulled you gently into his arms.

"Could we stay in touch?" The only words that left your mouth as a few stray tears fell.

"Of course, who knows. I might be in your city at some point."

You look up, and he plants the softest kiss on your lips. You ignored that you had to step on your tippy-toes to be able to reach his lips. With that, you exchanged information before he left another kiss. It was a shadow from the last one, but you knew then you'd never want to kiss another pair of lips again.

The plane ride home left a hollow hole in your heart. You cried on and off, eventually letting the exhaustion wash over you. Your most ardent wish was that he'd never forget about you; you'd never forget about him, even through the chaos of your day-to-day. When you arrived back home, your dad came to pick you up from the airport. He observed that there was a sadness in you, but he couldn't pinpoint what was causing it. He pats your hand; he's just trying to tell you that he missed you at home. You live with your parents, and you don't want to tell them about the most wonderful man you've met. Your mom is in bed when you arrive late in the evening; she fell asleep watching a novela. You go to your room and just let the tears come again. You send Nanami a message.

[You:] I'm home. Thank you for the most wonderful last day.

[Nanami:] I'm glad to hear it. I'll let you know when I visit. As you said, let's stay in touch.

You smile and don't respond to his message. You're a million miles away from him. Would he feel the same way you do right now?

Back in his apartment, he wonders when he's supposed to go on this business trip. It's always work and money on his mind. It's better than the alternative of being a Jujutsu sorcerer, but nothing is rewarding about his job as a salaryman. He does get to travel, but it's all for work. He glances at his phone and looks back at the picture that you took together.

"I'd do anything to see that smile on her face again," his lips curl up slightly. He finds your message thread and types a message, sending it. There's no anxiety; he's confident that you'll be excited to hear from him. In the meantime, he scrolls through his contacts and highlights a name. He is reluctant to reach out to Satoru Gojo.

The following morning, you find your phone in the palm of your hand. You don't know when you fell asleep, but you see a text message from Nanami.

[Nanami:] I have set aside some time to visit in early July. I'd love to spend more time with you then, at your convenience. I hope you'll say yes and pick up from where we left off.

You're smiling ear to ear; It hurts so much. You want to say "yes, yes, a million times yes." However, this isn't a marriage proposal. He isn't a man who would do something impulsively either. You meet your parents for breakfast; they ask you about your adventures in Japan and if it was everything you dreamed of. You tell them that it was, and your smile conceals a truth that you're afraid to share with them: you met someone. You don't want to tell them because then they become overprotective.

"¿Conociste a alguien?" Did you meet someone? Your mom asks.

"No, why? You look at her.

"Estas media rara." You're being weird. Taking a bite of bread with some beans on it.

"No, no paso nada." No, nothing happened. Your smile fades, confirming your fears to tell them about him.

"Well, you're back, so there's a long list of things you need to do. I know you have to find work tomorrow, but that doesn't matter to me."

You sigh, acknowledging that your trip is over. You're back to the reality of living with your parents, which at times feels like you have no peace.

"I need you to do this for me. Could you drive me here, please? Don't you have anything better to do than just lie there?"

You never thought your life would turn upside down from meeting him, but you count down the days until he arrives. It's already June, so what's a couple more weeks until July?

You and Nanami go back and forth for the rest of the month. You share with him your joys: you found a job where you'll work with underprivileged youth. You tell him how you grew up with very little and how you've always wanted to give back to your community. You never want to abandon the place that you grew up in, but you feel a little nagging voice in your head telling you that you're meant to see more.

The low being that you live at home with your overbearing parents. The trip to Japan was your escape from them. You share how much you love them, but you also share that you can't simply do anything without them knowing where you are and who you're with.

"I told them I met someone." There's a silence on the other side of the line.

He's glad that you told them, but he can hear the hesitancy in your voice.

"What did they say?"

You pause. You know what they said, but you can't find it in your heart to tell him.

"Darling? You can tell me."

"They…said…" You sigh. "That loving from far is for fools."

He knows that you're something significant at this point in his life. He can't describe it to you either. You both know that it's not love, but you want the room to explore it.

"I can't wait to see you soon. I should probably mention, my birthday is on July 3rd."

"Oh! Why did you tell me?!" Your excitement radiates from the other end of the line. "Do you understand how much we have to do now?"

"I don't see the need why. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me!" You tell him firmly. The change in your voice tells Nanami that there is no reason to fight this. He's seen you at your most determined; there's no point in stopping you. He's going to spend his birthday with someone who's becoming less and less of a stranger every day, taking hold of his heart.

He omitted telling you that he arrives on his birthday. You scolded him briefly, but then you knew that you'd do anything to make anything special. On the day you pick him from the airport, you stop yourself from running into his arms. Instead, you wave at him. It hasn't been that long since he last saw you, but he notes how the sun has given your skin warmth, contrasting with your hair. The weather differs here from Japan, but he welcomes the dry July heat when he exits the airport. He takes your hand as you cross the street together. You ask him where he's staying, and he tells you the directions.

You turn on the car radio, observing that you are listening to Spanish music. "What's this?"

"Oh, this is one of my favourite bands, Caifanes. They're kind of like the Cure, but in Spanish. I like them a lot."

He notes the melancholy tone, but it differs from the way you sing along to the songs. A giant grin appears as you're driving out of the airport, unfazed by the wave of cars.

"No dejes que nos coma el diablo amor, que se trague tu calor…" You sway in your car seat, thrilled to show him where you're from. It'll be different from Japan, but you're hopeful that he'll see the beauty of it, too. When you arrive at the hotel, you wait in the lobby, not trying to worry about how the day will go. You play with the hem of your dress, impatiently waiting for him.

"The room is adequate to my liking. I'm ready when you are." You nod and lead him back to your car. You're a distance away from the first location you had in mind. Nanami quietly observes how the neighbourhoods change; city landscapes staying in the background for more active sidewalks with vendors and pedestrians. When you arrive, you take his hand and tell him about being a patron on this block for a variety of different eats. You tell him what pupusas, atole, and the various snacks you can find here. For today's blistering heat, you choose to get him a mango cut like a rose. His sleeves are rolled up, his tie loosened, and in awe of the creation you hand to him.

"It'll be a little messy, but I think this will help you stay hydrated."

You giggle, blushing as you watch him try to eat the mango delicately.

"You don't have to be neat about it. It's mango, it's meant to be messy."

He grumbles a little, but lets himself go as he gets mango all over his lips. You hand him a napkin, enjoying seeing him let go, little by little. During your phone calls, he would laugh when you would tell him about yourself and the happenings of your day; you only hope that you can see that in person.

He's annoyed at how messy mango is to eat, but seeing your smile makes this embarrassing moment worthwhile. When he's finished, you take his hand, ignoring that it's sticky, guiding him to a bakery. The bakery has a variety of pan dulce; you grab a tray and tongs, selecting the breads that Nanami should try. You went with the empanadas de manjar and the conchas. He's a man of few words, when he takes a bite of the concha he feels the warmth fill his body. The empanada's colour intimidates him at first, but you explain it's done with achiote, but then the custard filling reminds him that he needs to get out of his comfort zone and appreciate the various pastries of the world.

"This won't be the only sweets you'll have for the rest of the day." You assure him, your smile never fading away. "We still have plenty to do and see, but I hope you're hungry."

"You know I'm here for a week, right?"

"Yeah, but there's no reason why we shouldn't have the best day ever. It's your birthday!"

He can't deny you. He doesn't care that much about his birthday, but you do. You are going out of your way to show him everything about you; he's grateful. He wants to tell you about his former life, but he's afraid. "Will this end whatever this is?" He thinks to himself.

"Everything okay? Oh, am I pushing you too hard? I'm sorry!"

He takes your hand and kisses your palm. "I assure you, I'm alright. Show me what else we're going to do next."

You show him the other neighbourhoods that you frequented often. You take him to a record store, and he feels like he's been transported back in time. He remembers his days as a teenager buying CDs, but the popularity of vinyl is intriguing to him. You show him the world section to show him the variety of artists that he's never heard of, and find a few treasures for yourself. He thinks about how much he's been missing out as a salaryman, but how much more he'll miss when he returns to life as Jujutsu sorcerer. Your conversation about giving back struck a few chords in his heart. "She'll understand, but there's no good time to tell her. Today isn't the day."

You observe the shift in his facial expressions; he was becoming more relaxed, but his stance was more rigid. "Are you sure you're okay? We can have dinner and then go back to your hotel?"

"I think it's just exhaustion from the flight." You keep moving along the aisles of records, but you feel something pull you back. He's pulling you back and resting his hands on your arms. "You really don't have to do all of this for me, but I'm so glad that we can spend time together."

"Si tu solo supieras cuanto te quiero." You smile and nod. He's unsure what you said, but he'll ask you later to clarify what you meant.

For dinner, you chose to take him to one of the oldest Mexican restaurants in your city. You tell him how it's been around for nearly 100 years, and how they've been able to expand due to popularity. You select a combination plate with a chile relleno and a chicken enchilada. To become too full, you order the same. Nanami is in awe of how expressive you are when you talk to the servers. He watches your demeanour when you say something to the server and chooses to point at Nanami. You give him a slight wink and return your attention to Nanami.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That wink."

"Oh, it was nothing." Your voice betrays you.

"You're up to something."

"No, I'm not."

"Mija" You recognize that voice. Oh, not tonight. You turn around and it's your parents. You want the Earth to swallow you whole. Of all the times to run into your parents, you run into them here.

"Nanami Kento, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"¿Estas en una cita?"

Your palm rests on your face and nod.

"Nanami, these are my parents." You signal to your parents who he is so they can make proper introductions.

"¡Esta guapo!"

"Please stop talking." You beg your mom.

"Bueno te dejo. Adios." Your dad scowls at Nanami, but you know it's him being protective.

There's a smirk on his face. "What did she say?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What does guapo mean? Your face turns into a shade of scarlet, but the dark lighting in the room makes it hard to see.

"I'll just have to find out another way if you won't tell me."

"She said that you're handsome. Please stop." You release a nervous laugh.

"Oh? Would you agree with that assessment?" He's teasing you.

"I think a lot of people would agree with that assessment," you take a sip out of your drink. "Haven't you noticed people have been staring at you all day?"

"I'm not paying attention to others when I have my attention on someone else."

A comfortable silence ensues between the two of you. You know that there's something that Nanami is hiding, but his charm disarms any doubt that you have. He wants to tell you everything, but he wants to enjoy the peace that exists now.

Out of nowhere, the server comes with a slice of Tres Leches cake and a candle that is lit candle. There are no servers to sing him a happy birthday, just the intimacy of the moment between you and Nanami.

"Feliz cumpleaños a ti, feliz cumpleaños a ti, feliz cumpleaños querido Kento, feliz cumpleaños a ti. Ya queremos pastel, ya queremos pastel aunque sea un pedacito, pero queremos pastel."

In this moment, he wants to say, forget the cake and kiss you here in front of everyone. However, he knows your parents are in the vicinity. He blows on the candle to make his wish.

"I hope your dream comes true." You say quietly.

"I think it will."

He hands you a fork to share the cake. He covers the bill, he insisted. When you take him back to his hotel, you're just waiting for him to bid you farewell until tomorrow.

"Do you want to come up?"

You're taken aback, but there's no time like the present. You nod.

When you're in his room, he sits down on the edge of the bed. He pats it for you to join him. You sit, with a small distance between you.

"What did you tell me at the record store earlier?"

You know exactly what you said, but you're scared, trying to use your primary language to conceal what you're really feeling.

"Darling, you can tell me."

The term of endearment helps you muster the strength to tell him what you said. You grip the sheets of the bed tightly. "I said that you have no idea how much I like you." You're telling him a half-truth, not telling him the real meaning. In a sudden move, he moves closer to you, tilting your chin. "Is that what you meant?"

You nod, the words stuck in your throat. "Are you sure, darling?"

"I…" you sigh as his lips ghost yours. "I'm afraid to tell you the real meaning."

"There's so much going on between us, but I just want to tell you that this birthday is so special. I never know if it's going to be my last."

"I hope it's not your last…" His lips graze the corner of your mouth.

"There's so much to tell you, but…tonight, I just want to be here with you." His lips find yours, sweet and tender, just like him. You lose yourself as he lays you down on the bed. His weight on you isn't suffocating. Each shared kiss, growing hungrier, undressing you and him. When he gives himself to you, you feel yourself holding on to him like an anchor. You cry out his name in pleasure. "Te amo…pero es muy pronto."

"Shh, darling…" He consumes every word with a promise that he won't go anywhere.

When he holds you against his chest, peppering your beautiful skin with kisses, placing his arm around your curves, he wonders if you'll run away from him.

"Nothing you say or do can scare me away," you close your eyes, beginning to drift off.

He kisses your forehead. "I'm glad. Are you still awake?"

When he gazes at your face, your peaceful smile indicates that you won't hear him. He holds you just a little tighter, sighing, releasing whatever anxiety may be brewing.

"I'm a Jujutsu sorcerer…it's dangerous, and every day my life will be on the line. Birthdays are a milestone for many. My only wish is to keep sharing my birthday with you. I'll do my best to always come back for you."

You didn't hear him, but you're dreaming of the day that you'll grow old together.

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corvies · 1 day ago

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hero-israel · 3 days ago

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This post, originally written on FB by Victoria Cook, is an excellent summary of the whole Mamdani thing.

And I'm going to do something presumptuous and arrogant that I can't stop myself from, sorry - I'm going to edit it a little. This is not the usual social media concept of editing someone else's message as "inserting sarcastic mockery that points out errors so everyone in-group can point and laugh." I agree with Victoria Cook's message, and her pain and fear burn compellingly through her writing. Some sentences run quite long and clauses weave back and forth, and it adds to my own list of worries that this otherwise very good resource could confuse readers who haven't been deeply following the history here. I am just trying to assist with readability. Click the link above to see her original unchanged essay. Below is her essay with some grammatical fixes I presumed to make:

WARNING, this is a very long post. If you are going to react by responding with anti-Arab or anti-Islam comments I beg you to scroll on by, you are not welcome here.

I think the issue of whether Zohran Mamdani is antisemtic and carries personal animus towards Jews is a distraction. Although I’m not sure why this particular view of being anti-a-certain-group has to be intentional, when we don’t accept that for anyone else living in a society built on anti-group “-ism”s. Millennia of supercessionist world imperial religions and their respective influenced cultures, from their holy books to classic literature to current popular music, certainly created a society in which "the Jew” is the most evil character, yet somehow that is not seen as being in the water we swim and the air that we breathe. So I’ll stick with “intentional Jew hater." I do not think he is an intentional Jew hater. He clearly has Jewish friends, grew up with many Jewish people, and I believe him when he says he cares about antisemitism. I also believe he can recognize antisemitism in many although not all of its forms, and that he does not wish ill on Jews and genuinely wants to create a more inclusive and diverse thriving NYC.

I want to emphasize that I am not scared of Zohran as a person, I probably would really like him if I met him, in a million ways he seems like an older version of my son’s awesome smart and funny precocious friends from Bronx Science, I agree with most of his agenda. I voted for Brad Lander, but would love a younger, vibrant, brilliant communicator version, himself an immigrant, to lead this city of immigrants, especially now. But I am indeed scared of the ideology of some of his activism.

The issue of concern for me and I think for many Jews is that the worldview of his activist community — a worldview he shares at least in part, as made clear from his own longtime and current political activism in these communities, and from some of his own rhetoric, and certainly from the rhetoric of organizations whose support he centers as endorsements and core parts of his coalition in his movement politics — is engaged in an agenda of not only dismantling Zionist Israel but also creating a category of “good Jews” and bad Jews (i.e., Jews like me), and my fear is that this worldview is being rewarded and normalized by the electorate. Moreover, by having the mayor of the city with the most amount of Jews in the world, a city where our mayors become global stars, be himself a proponent of that, even unintentionally, is troubling.

When it comes to the question of what he could do on the ground in NYC as mayor, I am concerned about his stated commitment to BDS as a form of political resistance. This worldview does not support coexistence measures because that is “normalization”, but instead supports cultural boycotts. This could mean that based on the BDS principles (which are also expressly shared by DSA) we could have a city policy of not welcoming Israeli academics to City colleges, canceling semester abroad programs at City colleges, not allowing city museums to sponsor exhibits with Israeli artists, not permit city sponsored international dance events to include Batsheva, not allow the Mayor’s Office for Film & Television to cooperate with an Israeli film that wants to shoot NYC scenes locally, etc. Even if the mayor does not have the full authority to do these things, City Council will be informed by his agenda and I don’t want the vibrant cultural and academic life of NYC to be caught up in Mamdani’s commitment to BDS. If he were to publicly expressly say he will bifurcate his personal commitment to BDS from that of the City then I would be less concerned... but I expect that a not insignificant part of his constituency will pressure him to bring it with him to Gracie Mansion and it will be an ongoing issue in the public discourse.

But much more scarily to me is that this worldview connects the litany of not only global but local city ills to the Jewish State. Police abuse in NYC is because of Israel (the “Deadly Exchange”), the water crisis in Ferguson was because of Israel (“From Ferguson to Palestine”), the fires in LA were because of Israel (climate change because of the war, war spending meant no money for LA fire department, take your pick), NYC libraries are underfunded because of funding for Israel (cities have no impact on funding any part of the Israeli military) — these are not just random signs at marches, they are part of scholarly journals and part of the talking points of the leaders of the movement(s) which then end up as Instagram infographics. And to groups like Within Our Lifetime, even cancer hospitals should be targeted by marches accusing them of collaborating with genocide because of a donor also giving money to Israel. In this way of looking at the world’s ills, since everything is ultimately interconnected, the message is (sometimes expressly, sometimes implied) that if we could only get rid of this one thing — Zionism and the Zionist state (not the fantasy Israel he is ok with existing, but the one with all of its issues like all nation states that currently actually in the real world exists, where half of the remnant of world Jewry live, most as refugees from the Judenrein world)-- then with that gone, we could not only "free, free Palestine" but we could free the whole entire world from all its evils. I hear the message of this logic loud and clear. Maybe others can’t hear it because they agree with it, or it sounds like a mere whisper, but to me it is quite literally shouting in my ear that the “Jewish Problem” still exists and eradication is the only solution.

All of this at the same time that the politics are — for good reason! I believe in much of the policy goals — anti bankers, anti developers, and anti “money interests”, so once you add to that “Zionists are working against his campaign", it all feels very, very familiar. Suffocatingly familiar.

And it is also a fact that this worldview’s rhetoric, including phrasing that Mamdani has defended and parsed despite his own usage on social media as far back as 2015, has been used in connection with actual violence against Jews, including murder only last month. There is that fear in the background too, even if important thought leaders like Masha Gessen try to convince us that 'it is not antisemitic violence so again stop centering yourselves Jews! It’s not antisemitism! It’s just anti-Israel!' Tell that to the elderly couple who were firebombed for trying to remind the world about the hostages.

But then, of course, like clockwork, the anti Arab and anti Muslim racists and bigots come out in force from within our community and we have an embarrassment of plenty of those, and the right wing uses their fake concern for us while they also freely use the most intense antisemitic rhetoric like Tucker Carlson & Candace Owens becoming besties and Steve Bannon now calling a Fox News broadcaster “Tel Aviv Mark” so we are just fucked from all sides and an important conversation about electorate concerns is now drowned out by all the stupid haters and instigators and influencers who are a toxic cancer in my community.

So that’s my fear. I am also fearful of the current discourse. I pray that Mamdani stays safe in this time of political and racist violence and the voices that are adding heat to this fear shut the f*&k up. I also have hope. My hope is that Mamdani engages with the mainstream Zionist community on these issues from his own highly critical anti-Israel perspective, I am not asking him to change his politics and I would welcome such a moment with open arms since it is not erasure but dialogue. And despite my fears, I am very glad we are as a city finally talking about housing, income inequality, and especially immigrants rights, as we are sinking further and further into autocracy as a country. That part of his platform should be celebrated and amplified.

I’m not even sure why I’m posting this other than to try to help people understand what at least some of the Jews are worried about and for the discourse to calm the fuck down. I do not want the Trump and MAGA people to further divide us but I desperately want people to hear this concern and not to dismiss it as merely part of that right wing agenda. And I simultaneously desperately want to try, at least in my small corner of the internet, to disrupt the scary reductive racist binary conversation.

#zohran mamdani #victoria cook #dsa #democratic socialists of america #globalize the intifada #intifada #palestine #palestinians #gaza #leftist antisemitism

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starcurtain · 8 months ago

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Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

What level of down bad is "Abusing your powers as an Akademiya employee to keep tabs on your crush's library loans"? Just asking for a friend.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

#genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #I wasn't even looking for half these screencaps #I was just scrolling through the content and “Oops; there's another one”#imagine thinking it's a “coincidence” to run into someone in a desert that stretches hundreds to thousands of miles #I say this in the most positive way possible #but I think Alhaitham might actually need an intervention #bro is reading PULP FICTION for a man #checking the message boards daily for updates from a dude he already lives with #skipping work to do favors for his favorite #I would say his Kaveh hyper-focus is impacting his quality of life #but Kaveh IS his quality of life so...#do you think the merchants in the market are getting savvy #when they see Alhaitham coming they're just like #“Oh Mister Alhaitham! Mister Kaveh was really admiring this painting the last time he came through--”#how many times do you think Alhaitham's brought home new foods only to never buy them again because Kaveh didn't like them?#we could end world deforestation with Alhaitham's pining alone

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janeway-lover · 9 months ago

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sadness and sorrows

#I had to scroll through nearly all our messages to get that screenshot last night #so many times where we were talking before my shift started #and when I'd have to leave to start working they'd say something like “good luck don't die”#because god the job sucked and they knew that #and I'd respond with “I won't. not before I get to kiss you” and would get flustered key smashes in return #and its just. why weren't we allowed to have that. why. its not fair. we were so close but I was a week too late

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floridanotfound · 1 year ago

Note

hi peach i think that in this turmoil i forgot to wish you a happy birthday so i hope you accept late wishes :) love you so much and i'm happy to see you <3

hi kaya thank you!! you're an angel and I love you so much <3

#so many planes hit on my birthday and i was oblivious to begin with bc i was only replying to birthday messages and hadnt looked at dash😭#i can only imagine what that looked like when people were doom scrolling through dash #so happy to see you and hope you are doing well <3 #peach ask #kaya<3

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy

This was inspired by the Caleb art in the banner by @baobei-bu please love on ALL their art!! Their JJK/LADS art is PEAK

Pairings- Yandere! Caleb x F!reader

Warnings- PWP pretty much, a smut oneshot- HEAVY yandere Caleb, mating press, cum play, oral (f recieiving) tummy bulges, cervix hitting, panty stealing, fingering, overstim, he calls you pip squeak LMAO, JEALOUS obsessed Caleb

My first time for Caleb hehe, rbs/comments appreciated if you enjoyy

"Who is that, Pip squeak?" Caleb murmurs that question with a little smile, as you tense just a bit, feeling your cheeks heating up under his scrutiny, sipping on the straw of your milkshake, letting the sweetness hit your tongue. The two of you have been gaming the day away, taking just a little break in the kitchen now

"It's a... friend." That's what Xavier was really, your sweet friend, who is currently sending you heart emojis.

"Oh, a friend huh? Why so secretive then?" He teases, tapping your nose and just being far... far too close. You shouldn't think so many things about him like this, should you? But you can't help but like his cologne a little too much, like just how his brown locks were falling over his forehead just so, how you can see so much of his muscles flexing in what he wore.

"Just a friend." Your little smile drives him insane, he outwardly laughs, but he can't stop thinking of who's been with you while he's been away, has anyone touched you? When you're meant to be his.

"Let me see then." He yanks your phone high, dark violet eyes flashing for a moment, turning as you sputter and he scrolls through your last messages. "And who is Sylus... Rafael and... Dr. Zayne, I know him, and-"

"Give me my phone back, jerk!" You jump for it, but Caleb is stupid tall, holding it up and feigning a smile he really doesn't feel like giving right now, thoughts racing.

Were you with somebody?

That would never do.

Perhaps he's been gone too long, and you've found someone, but that wouldn't last long when you'd be his. Caleb hands you it finally, laughing a bit as he pats your head. "Relax, Pip Squeak, I was just messing with ya. So cute when you're angry."

"Oh, whatever. Back to the game?" He nods, watching as your bouncy ass sways in whatever excuse for a shorts those were, furious if anyone has ever gotten to see you like this.

You're sitting up on the couch now, legs spread so he sees just a hint of your perfect pussy that lace was hugging, his throat goes dry when you hand him the controller. He smiles with ease, sitting on the floor, hoisting your thighs around his shoulders then, and you pause, faltering just a bit, breath caught in your throat. It should be casual. You two have gamed close forever, but he's so close to your heat, your thighs brushing against his hot skin. Just a white tank top and your shorts separating you both.

"You blushed really hard when I mentioned Sylus huh?" He asks now, as he moves the controllers, and you gulp just a bit, fidgeting some.

"No... imagining things."

"You think he's hot."

You roll your eyes at him, shifting forward as you tilt the controller, slashing your sword and concentrating, the tips of your toes touching his lap. Just that is enough to make Caleb ache and throb, hard cock pulsing, he bites back a moan, you seem too entrapped in the game to notice what your foot is brushing on.

"He's hot, sure. Why, do you... find anyone hot?" Caleb glares down at the controller now.

"Just one girl." You bite your lip, concentrated fully, as he rests a head on your thigh. Hot breath against it making your leg twitch, cunt already soaking. You can't feel this way, you two are just too close... right? How can you be jealous?

"Oh?" Your weak voice just makes Caleb's cock leak precum, he can feel how hot you are behind his neck, he turns his head then, to catch you looking down at him.

"Do you care if I like someone Pip Squeak?"

"N-no..."

"Hmm... hah! Got you!" Caleb's killed your character, making you huff. Laying back some on the couch, you gasp when he turns around, face at level with your cunt, where he sees your damp spot right on your shorts. "Oh no, honey... did you spill something?"

"Huh?" You feel your body react, nipples pressing against your thin top at his proximity, vivid thoughts of far, far too many things working through your heated mind.

"Right here..." he brushes his thumb against the damp sticky arousal, eliciting a cry that makes him goddamn feral. "Can't answer me honey?"

"Caleb I'm... so sorry I..."

"This from me. Or from one of them?" His casual question is laced with something dark, pressing on the spot again, wondering just how many men he'd have to take out, so his sweet girl is all his. "Should I get these off you? Since you're making them so messy?"

"I.... y-you-" Caleb has slipped your shorts off your thighs, your tummy clenches when he clicks his tongue. Now he kisses your inner thigh, fingers running along your swollen lips, breath ghosting too close to your cunt.

"These are ruined too, tsk. Something wrong, pip squeak?" You shake your head, watching as Caleb peels those panties off you, and he has to tuck them in his pocket, thankful your eyes are shut, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks. He needs a fresh pair anyway, you're too meticulous about your laundry and he doesn't get many.

The amount of times he's cum inhaling your panties, drunk off them is insane, even before he left you, when he'd visit on breaks he'd take them, licking any of you up. Sometimes he would jerk off inside them, imagining putting them on you. Making you wear them full of his load as punishment for making him so insane. But nothing prepared him for seeing your glistening cunt, clear trails breaking off, you're so wet you were stuck to those lacy panties clearly.

"Caleb-ah!" He laps you up now, just a stripe up your slit, making your hands entangle in sof thrown hair, as those deep violet eyes look up at you. Dilated, insane, a smirk on his lips.

"Tell me none of them tasted you. Had you."

"What do you mean-"

"Tell me no one touched what's mine."

"You've been gone a long time... you think I just what, wait here, touch myself?" You're shaking as you speak.

"Do you?" You hesitate. "Answer me. Maybe I'll let you cum."

"Let me?" He presses a kiss on your clit now parting your folds and groaning as arousal pools out of your little hole. "Mnh. Fuck... what are we..."

"Am I competing? I'm very competitive you know, pip squeak. I will have to make you forget anything but me then." That's when he spreads your pretty pussy, moaning, he's seen you of course before here and there, glimpses of you naked, but now your perfect cunt is right in his face. He's burying his face against you, nose hitting that clit as his tongue swipes in.

"Oh my god." You shouldn't be like this, you shouldn't be spreading your thighs wider, letting him fuck his tongue in and out of your slick, gummy walls, the noises of his soft whines and slurps echoing in your apartment. His taste buds explore every each that long tongue can reach, you're losing it every moment, those eyes so dark with lust they look black.

He'll make you forget anything.

"That's it, you wanna cum f'me, huh? Pretty girl, all mine." You're struggling to compute his words, to even function, eyes rolling back when he flicks the tip of his tongue on that clit, smile not hitting his insane yes. "Are you?"

"This is crazy, what are we doing... you... I... ngh!" Two fingers slip right inside your hole now, which flutters around the thick, long digits, making your whines even louder as he leans up, his other hand gripping you by your throat, lips so close.

How have you not kissed but he's devoured your pussy?

"You belong to me, only me, can you not see? All this time..." He's desperately scissoring fingers in and out, lashes low over his eyes as he breathes against your bitten lips. "Oh listen, she can talk for you I guess, so slutty for me. Just me, huh?"

You're just arching your hips, a sweet cry from your lips, ones he can imagine wrapped around his cock, while he squeezes your delicate neck harder, hand overtaking your throat. You can merely whimper in response, nodding just a bit, as you're closer and closer, only for him to yank his fingers out, making you whine, aching to be filled by them again.

"Caleb, please." You're crying now, tears running down your cheeks, making you look so fucking pretty to him, igniting something that snaps as he watches them fall glistening down your face.

"Please what, ya need something?" He's squeezing harder, fingers brushing around your soaking entrance, just barely pressing the tip of his finger inside, while you're pressed back against the couch, breasts heaving. "Tell me what you need, don't you know I'll take care of you?"

"In me. Please- ah!" You're getting fuzzy when he slips those long fingers back in your cunt, exhaling as he watches you, curling them just so with filthy squelching noises echoing. "Mnh!"

"This all f'me, huh? All me?" His demanding question barely resonates when you're cumming all over his fingers now, pulsing and gushing, while your own hand grips his thin white tank, pulling him closer. Your eyes roll back, he watches you avidly, every fucking expression while he feels you pulsing on his digits. "You didn't answer me, pretty, that won't do."

He pouts when he pulls his fingers out again, releasing your throat right before you nearly faint, cunt still pulsing. You try to gather yourself, when he's slipping those fingers in his mouth, moaning while he sucks all your arousal off them. He's ripped your top off, moaning as he sees your tits gently bounce out, his own dog tags dangling right between the two of them.

"Look who's right by your heart, hmm?" He presses the cool metal to your lips now, prompting you to kiss them, as he smiles so sweetly, like he hadn't just fucked your head up and tripped you. "Do you wear this every day?"

"Yes."

"Every night?"

"Yes." Your answer ends him, when he picks you up like you're nothing, dragging you right to the plush, soft rug beneath you both, hovering over you, his new tags dangling, as your fingers slip up over his strong chest, his eyes glinting with something you can't quite describe, the situation overwhelming your senses.

"I need to take better care of you, if you feel you need all these 'friends' then I'm not doing my job. I should be more than enough for you." He's leaned up, pulling up his shirt just a bit, revealing rippling abs that you've looked at far too often. "Is that it, I didn't take care of you good enough?"

"No, Caleb you always take care of me. I just... we..." Your thoughts trail off when he's slipped down his sweats, and you see his cock, so long and thick you're unsure you could take it, already oozing precum out of his reddened tip.

"Cat got your tongue, pip squeak? Keep talking, I'm listening, I always listen don't I?" He's leaned over you with one strong arm, yanking your thighs apart further, when you feel his length against your inner thigh, hot and heavy, precum sticking to you, as he cups your face so gently. "I'll listen to every moan, every whisper, so I learn everything your pretty, perfect body likes."

"Oh my god." He's brushing his tip against your engorged clit now, smiling down at you, at how pretty you are on this rug beneath him, your lashes fluttering.

"You work too hard, you need to be massaged everywhere. How could I not see this?" He's shoved his cock so deep inside you then you scream out, and he moans, feeling the stretch, of so many fucking inches. "Look how greedy, she's trying to take him all. Ahh, did you miss me this much?"

You're unable to respond to anything when he's shoved his cock so deep you're stuffed full, whimpering out as your walls struggle to stretch for him, and he's just a breath over you, lips drinking up yours then, finally kissing you after so long, before he is pulling back and shoving so deep he hits your cervix. You're sobbing it feels so fucking good, all while he can't rip his eyes off your face, the dark violet depths swirling.

"Waited so long for this, god don't you know?" He's mumbling now, lost in you, pulling back and smirking as he watches it, his lengthy cock getting sucked inside your too small hole, and the bulge in your tummy. "Look, I hit so fucking deep, don't I?" He grips your chin, shoving your head down so you see it, blushing furious.

"I... that's... s-so big I..." He's moaning as he watches it, his cock making that bulge as he goes achingly slow.

"Look at me fill you, fuck I should keep filling you too, until you can't even think. I need your brain shut off, and focused on me, yeah?" You're already fucked out and stupid, you can only stare at the bulge and blush, when he thrusts his hips with a snap, having you drooling all over his cock. "Can't think of other men now, can you?"

You can't think of a fucking thing, including what's happening, as Caleb begins fucking you harder, faster, delicately kissing your lips like he's making love, as his heavy balls slap your ass with every single filthy fucking thrust. He's whispering your name, until he's got you firm in a mating press, spitting down right on your clit and moaning at the sight.

Folded in half, god you feel so small under him, while his babbling hits your incoherent brain, the lewd slapping of his skin and how wet you are filling the living room. "Only me, I need it to only be me, me inside you, me everywhere."

"Caleb- you... f-fuck!" He's cupping your face as he folds you in that mating press, grinning feral, something unleashed that's damn near scary, but you just want more, nails pressing crescent moons against his biceps.

"Only me. Only me. Mine. Mine. Mine." He's huffing those words as you cum all around his cock, pausing him briefly, feeling your aftershocks grip him, your cunt so messy she's dripping down his balls, down to the rug, making the sounds even louder, the squishing and clicking. "I know, honey, I know, you want me to cum inside, huh?"

"Please. Please." He's smiling, you're being so good for him, and who is he to ever deny his pretty girl anything.

"I'll give you anythign you ask for, don't worry. I'll fill you so good, so, so good, yeah- ha fuck you- ah..." He's stuttering now, faster and harder, his eyes flashing then. "Only me, say it."

"Only y-you... ah- ngh!" You're screaming when he's fucking you so hard it hurts, leaned up to press the backs of your thighs.

"That's it, gonna forget them all, aren't you? Anyone."

"F-forget." Your weak response lets him lose his mind, big hands bruising, his dog tags swinging against your face when he pounds your cunt so hard, cumming so much, with his head thrown back, groaning so loud until it turns into a weak cry, as his hot gooey load coats your pussy everywhere.

"That's it, fuckin perfect pussy, God my good girl, aren't you? Taking me so well." He's murmuring, easing as you're cumming just from him coating your walls, he lets your thighs fall, moaning and kissing you, desperate and hungry. "You alright, pip squeak? Was it too much?"

"It was a lot I..." He's laughing now, softly, pulling back and out, watching the mess of creamy cum pouring down all over, groaning at the sight, you flush as you look down, seeing it all.

"You could have told me you needed more, don't you know how long I've waited for this? I wanted to be your first though, honey, tsk..." He's fingering the cum, making you jerk, so sensitive now, his lips quirking up. "Know how many times I've stroked it? Picturing just this, filling you up?"

"Y-you did?" He's shoving that cum deep, you grip his wrist, gasping now. "Caleb!"

"You're wasting it, that just won't do, I need you to be a good girl." His husky whisper along with those rough fingers makes you cry out.

"Sensitive!"

"You can take more, can't you?" He's shoving cum back in your eager whole, moaning at the sight, his cock already standing back at attention. "I think I know what I need to do, so you never call any of these 'friends' again."

"What?" Your eyes roll back when he's curling his fingers again, hovering over you and grinning, his toned body glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"I'll keep filling you, until you're dripping me constantly." Caleb's got you in your bed next, lapping his own cum right out of your cunt, taste buds dragging in every flavor of the two of you, having you cum over and over, until you're stupid. "Look, so fucked out, aww. You're drooling pip squeak, lemme get that."

He's swiping at your chin, before he's sucking your clit in his mouth again, and you're losing sense of everything, he's fucking you again, bent over, then again, on your stomach, so many loads inside you you're bloated and full, too full. You pass out on him soon, he sighs as he looks at you, so pretty as always in your sleep.

"Ah, pip squeak, we'll have to work on that stamina." He's cleaned you all up, putting your favorite pajamas on you, while you're lightly snoring, clearly he'd been a little too much.

Caleb had waited for years and years after all, for just this moment.

"Sweet dreams, my love. Future wife." He's laughing softly, you don't know just all his plans yet. He goes towards the kitchen to down some water, still naked in your apartment, cock gently swaying when he grabs his sweats, your panties still tucked in his pocket. He slips them on, frowning as he sees your phone light up, texts from Zayne and Sylus.

That just won't do.

He unlocks your phone with ease, it's his birthday of course, you love him even if you don't know how much yet. No worries. Caleb deletes every contact and message, keeping only him, because that's all you'll need now! You won't even be in this apartment soon, he can already picture you at his place, constantly having his babies.

He smiles as he holds you against him that night, but even after fucking you so deep, so much, just seeing you sleeping makes him hard again, and he has to stroke his aching cock just looking at you, waiting for you to wake up.

lmk if you want more Caleb and his freaky ass lol <3

tags- @ember-stars @luvleixo @sickleddreamer @ravenbc @honeymoonfleur @mcdepressed290 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @valleydoli perm- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty

#caleb smut #caleb x you #caleb x reader #yandere caleb #lads smut #lads x reader #lads caleb #divider by omi-resources #lads x you #caleb x y/n #caleb x fem reader #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #yandere lads

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anghimalaaynasapuso · 4 months ago

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TRAINER KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. sucking könig's humongous titties. big cock. shower sex. semi-public. non-fluent könig.

it was a practical decision, you told yourself, scrolling past flashy advertisements for gyms promising overnight transformations, past testosterone-fueled testimonials about “beast mode” and “grindset.”

you'd sworn to yourself that as soon as you had the financial breathing room, as soon as you didn’t have to mentally calculate whether a dinner out would set you back for the week, you’d do it. invest in yourself. not in aesthetics, not in performance metrics, but in survival.

something that made you feel safer so that walking home late at night wouldn’t always feel like a loaded gun pressed to the base of your spine. you wouldn’t keep your keys between your fingers like they were some flimsy excuse for a weapon.

you found a coach who was within budget, someone named könig. a straightforward profile without a profile picture and just a handful of mid-range reviews.

it was genuine in its mediocrity, not glowing in the way bot-generated reviews tended to be, but not riddled with horror stories of scams or half-baked lessons either. people mentioned that he knew what he was doing, that he was patient, that his methods were effective.

but there were a few comments about his communication too. his english, more specifically.

at first, you were more nervous about looking weak than anything else.

logically, you knew that was the point. that was why you were paying for this— to get stronger, to learn. but the thought of stepping into a room filled with people who could probably bench your body weight while you struggled with a 25 kg deadlift made something inside you shrivel. made you feel like you’d be under a microscope, mistakes magnified. the thought of someone watching you fumble through drills, assessing your form— the potential for ridicule made your stomach knot up.

so, you signed up for solo lessons.

before you even met him, könig messaged you. a late-night notification breaking through the dim glow of your phone screen.

“is it ok that my english is not so good?”

you blinked at the screen. read it again. there was something unexpectedly… earnest about it. a self-consciousness that you rhymed with your own.

your thumbs hovered over the keyboard before you replied. “of course! i don’t mind at all.” then, after a second, “i’ll probably learn some phrases from you, haha.”

a long pause. three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. finally— “this is nice. i will try my best.”

something about that, about the fact that he had asked at all, the careful way he phrased it, stuck with you. you didn't know why, but it did.

the first time you met könig, you nearly turned around and walked straight back out the door, convinced your coach still hadn’t arrived.

at first, you genuinely thought you had the wrong room. or maybe there’d been some kind of mix-up, like another instructor using the space before your lesson.

you had walked into the gym expecting— what? some average-looking guy in a compression shirt? maybe a little bulky, maybe with that particular kind of gym-rat energy, all tight smiles and way-too-enthusiastic handshakes.

instead you got könig.

a massive, six-foot something, tank built like something that was meant to withstand damage and then deliver it back tenfold.

his hoodie, loose on his frame and looking a bit worse for wear from too many washes, still did nothing to hide the sheer scale of him. the water bottle he was holding was dwarfed by his hand and his arms, even relaxed at his sides, looked like they could crush a man’s ribs without much effort.

out of place. that was what he looked like. less self-defense coach and more guard stationed at the gates of hell.

you hesitated in the doorway, gripping the strap of your gym bag, suddenly hyperaware of every muscle in your body tensing up.

and then he spoke.

"… my client?” his voice was surprisingly soft. deep, yes, but smoothed down with the lilt of his accent.

you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. jesus christ.

“uh, yeah, i think so,” you shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “i booked the solo slots.”

he nodded. “good.” a pause. then, “you are… beginner?”

you exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh. “you could say that.”

his eyes smiled, something in the creases looking like amusement, before he jerked his head toward the back of the gym. “we start slow then.”

the whole thing went… surprisingly well.

könig was an amazing instructor for self-defense, not afraid to teach you moves that were downright dirty. not just the textbook counters or polished techniques that looked good in demonstrations but the kind of violence that left real damage. moves that could end a fight before it even started. his lessons were brutal in their practicality, built for survival, not sport.

his shrug always came before the skepticism could leave your mouth, as if he already knew the doubts forming behind your eyes. anticipation sat in his expression, waiting for you to question the practicality of a move that involved hitting someone's throat or breaking a wrist. waiting for that flicker of hesitation so he could counter it.

“has no rules, defense,” he simply told you, adjusting his gloves with a nonchalance that felt at odds with the destruction he'd just inflicted on the poor training dummy. his foot still pressed into its broken torso, the material caved inward like a crushed can. “s’long as you're safe, is good tactic.”

it was truth that didn’t need embellishment to him. könig wasn’t just saying it to justify his methods— it was a simple fact.

he made it seem less brutal, more justified. not just an excuse for violence but a reassurance, a lesson in survival.

it had you thinking if maybe you had been seeing things too rigidly, measuring combat in terms of right and wrong instead of what kept you breathing. könig didn’t. his world wasn’t one of fairness, it was of outcomes.

you exhaled, glancing at the poor, ruined dummy before looking back at him. “i think you broke it.”

könig tilted his head, unbothered. “hm. ja.” then, after a pause, he grinned, nudging the dummy’s crumpled remains with his boot like it might suddenly spring back to life. “but was good form, yes?”

the laugh that bubbled up caught you off guard, an unexpected burst of warmth. the corners of his grin lifted just a little higher at that.

texting started out as a necessity. scheduling changes, clarifying techniques, occasional reminders about bringing extra wraps. that was the whole point, really— a way to communicate outside of training.

somehow, though, könig turned out to be a menace over text. sarcasm practically dripped from his messages, sharpened now that he had the time to translate things properly. he was witty, sometimes outright ridiculous, and the sheer absurdity of his jokes caught you off guard more times than you could count.

könig: i think i have unlocked a new level of muscle soreness. my body is rejecting me. i am a broken man.

you: rip. gone and forgotten.

könig: good. don't tell my story. it's kind of pathetic.

“könig,” you typed one evening. “where the hell did you learn english?”

“the internet.”

immediate suspicion flooded your mind. “what part of the internet?”

“…the bad part.”

“be more specific.”

“ah…” there was a long pause, like he was regretting his choices. finally, “weird forums.”

apprehension curled at the base of your spine. “what kind of weird forums, könig?”

“…conspiracy theories.”

sheer, undiluted disbelief clung to you as you stared at your screen.

“WAIT” he backpedaled immediately, as if he could feel your judgment through the phone. “i was a child!!”

“A CHILD IN CONSPIRACY FORUMS?”

“it was not like that!!”

his frantic response only made you laugh harder. “then explain.”

“i was just reading, yes? stories. people told very cool stories. aliens, secret government projects, ghosts”

“oh my god, you were a cryptid kid.”

“nein!!”

amusement bloomed in your chest. “so what i’m hearing is you were, like, deep in the trenches. lizard people? JFK clone theories? the moon isn’t real?”

“…yes.”

“jesus christ.”

“it was fun!! and good english practice!”

“you learned english from paranoid men on the internet.”

“they were very passionate.”

laughter ripped through your chest so violently you nearly dropped your phone. könig sent a series of increasingly exasperated texts, all variations of “stop laughing”, which only made it worse.

every time you thought about it after that, a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. the next training session, you couldn’t even meet his eyes without picturing tiny könig hunched over an old computer, nodding solemnly as someone named TruthSeeker88 explained how the queen of england was actually a reptilian overlord.

he hated you for it. “you are evil,” he muttered when you brought it up again, shoving your shoulder lightly. “this is slander.”

“is it slander if it’s true?”

“YES.”

somewhere along the way, little snapshots of your lives started slipping into the conversation. könig sent blurry photos of his boots kicked up on a table, a war documentary playing in the background. “history lesson,” he’d caption, like he wasn’t watching something unreasonably brutal for fun. you sent the sky from your morning walk, pink bleeding into gold, and he always responded with a simple “pretty.”

you weren’t sure if he meant the sky or something else, but you let yourself wonder.

and then, selfies.

his were always shy, half-obscured, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you see too much despite the fact that you saw each other every week. the lower half of his face, mostly— jawline tucked into the shadows, the soft curve of a grin barely visible.

sometimes it was just his hands: wrapped around a steaming mug, fingers long and scarred, or flexed absentmindedly over his knee, veins shifting beneath pale skin. you never commented on them outright, just sent something casual— “cozy” or “nice gloves, old man”— but you always saved them, tucked away in your camera roll like little guilty pleasures.

yours were much less subtle in comparison.

exhausted post-workout, slumped against your couch with a dead-eyed stare. wrapped up in a hoodie, coffee in hand. the first time you sent one, you didn’t expect much. maybe a quick “good job” or some kind of fitness advice. instead, he sent “cute.”

you stared at the message for a full minute, blinking. your stomach did something stupid.

after that, he started commenting more. when you looked particularly grumpy, he’d send a teasing “you need nap, bird?” or “angry face. very scary.” and when you groaned about soreness, he was smug about it, “should have stretched. tsk tsk.”

it was cute. unbearably cute.

but all good things must come to an end.

one month. that’s how long this was supposed to last. four weeks of training, a neat little package of lessons that would leave you more capable of handling yourself in a fight. somewhere along the way, that timeline stretched, bending under the weight of something neither of you dared acknowledge.

könig should have cut you off weeks ago.

“you are expert already,” he tells you one evening, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of real curiosity beneath it. “i do not think class is needed. why do you keep taking?”

hesitation flickers in your chest. because of you, you want to admit, but the words sit heavy on your tongue, too risky, too exposing. instead, you roll your shoulders back and offer something easier, something safer.

“i need to beat you first.”

amusement dances across his features. könig huffs out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as if considering the possibility.

“it will not happen in a million years, i think.”

arrogance suits him. confidence carved into his bones, stitched into the way he moves, the way he fights. you don’t argue because he’s right— he’s bigger, stronger, more experienced. if he wanted to, he could probably break you in half without much effort.

but miracles happen.

it’s a fluke. both of you know it. a momentary lapse, a split second where his guard lowers just enough for you to slip past his defenses. könig lets you try—indulges you, really, humoring your attempts at taking him down like he’s teaching a child to wrestle. that cockiness, that easy amusement, is what costs him.

somehow, impossibly, you get him in a triangle choke.

his body tenses the moment your thighs clamp around his neck, locking him in place. shock flickers in his eyes before it shifts into something unreadable, something quiet and assessing. his breath comes out steady despite the position he’s in, controlled in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

for a moment, you think you have him.

then, with an ease that’s almost insulting, he pries your legs apart, spreading them like it’s nothing.

a gasp hitches in your throat.

his movements don’t stop there— before you can even process what’s happening, he shifts, pressing himself close, kneeling between your thighs, completely caging you beneath him. his grin is wide, pleased, entirely too unbothered for someone who had just been seconds away from losing.

“very good, bird,” he praises. “very good takedown. i like.”

air sticks in your throat. something is wrong.

“k-könig-”

he blinks at you, tilting his head slightly. “ja?”

your bugged-out stare flicks downward, and his follows instinctively.

oh.

his entire body tenses. his pupils shrink.

understanding dawnes, slow and terrible, as he finally feels the press of something very, very apparent against you.

“that was not supposed to happen.”

no shit.

könig’s weight shifts over you, muscles tight as he tries to move away but instead— maybe by accident, maybe not— his cock drags against your core, thick even through the fabric separating you. the pressure is just enough to make your breath hitch, a spark of something warm licking up your spine before a sound slips from your throat.

he freezes, head jerking up like a startled animal, eyes darting around the empty training room, scanning for any sign that someone might’ve heard, his breath uneven as he listens, as you listen, as the silence between you stretches impossibly thin.

nothing. no one.

he exhales. something in his face twitches, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is real, that you really just made that sound because of him.

his gaze drops, landing back on you, mouth parting, jaw flexing. then his body moves again, slower this time, cock grinding against you, rubbing you through your clothes, dragging heavy between your thighs, and you swear you see his eyelids flutter just slightly at the friction.

his forehead presses against yours, breath coming faster. “tell me to stop.”

the words hit your skin as more air than voice, warm against your jaw, but you don’t even need to think about it, because stopping is the last thing you want right now, the very last thing your body would allow.

“d-don’t stop.”

he curses, words slipping before he can stop them, and you don’t know what they mean, only that they sound wrecked, like they’ve been dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest.

könig’s forehead presses harder into yours. his hands tighten at your waist. his breath comes out uneven, stumbling over itself, and his voice fumbles through the next words. “i don’t have lube.”

“we don’t nee-”

“we do.” his face twists a little, mouth pressing tight, like the idea of taking you without it is actually painful.

you swallow, shifting slightly under him, feeling just how big he is. slick gathers between your thighs, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out, barely above a whisper.

“are you big?”

his lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a grin, like he can’t believe you just asked that, and then it spreads into something quintessentially könig, — slow, lazy, and warm.

he presses in harder, dragging over your soaked cunt through the fabric of your underwear. the friction pulls a gasp from your lips, hips rolling up instinctively.

his grin stretches wider, eyes flicking down to watch you grind against him. "i am not small."

heat floods you, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching. your hips move again, searching for more, slick soaking through your underwear. your head tips back, breath catching. the sound that escapes you is closer to a whimper than you’d like to admit.

his lips find your jaw, tongue flicking out, tasting sweat and skin. his voice follows his mouth, words warm against your neck. "pretty little pussy..." he murmurs, dragging the syllables out like he’s savoring them. "bet it’d feel better wrapped around me."

the sound that leaves your throat is humiliating, high-pitched and needy. you don’t mean to make it, but it’s too late.

könig grabs your wrist. pulls you up. your balance falters, and before you can recover, he hauls you toward the showers. boots thud against tile. the door slams, lock clicking into place.

his mouth finds yours before you can speak. lips crash into yours, messy and eager. tongues tangle, breaths mix, heat pouring between you as your fingers twist in his hair. a laugh bubbles up between kisses—yours or his, you can’t tell—and he groans into your mouth, grinning against your lips.

“fuck,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. cheeks flush, eyes dark with something feral. “wanted this so long…”

clothes hit the floor in frantic shoves. hands fumble, pulling fabric away until skin meets skin, warmth pressing in on all sides.

his cock, thick, flushed, and dripping with precum, hangs between the two of you, weighed down by its own girth.

he sees your stare and grins. "big, huh?”

words fail you and for a moment you can't do anything but nod dumbly.

könig reaches past you, flicks on the shower. water crashes down, steam rising fast. the air thickens with heat and he wastes no time to pull you under the spray, water slicing over skin.

scarred hands find your face, thumbs brushing your jaw as his mouth returns to yours.

your hand slides down between you and wraps around his cock. konig's hips jerk forward, breath shuddering out against your lips.

“could kill you with this, eh?” his grin tugs lazy at the corners of his mouth. his chest lifts and falls, breaths dragging in deep, water cascading over both of you, hot against skin already burning.

your hand tightens, fingers sliding along the thick length of him, precum slicking your palm. warmth pulses beneath your touch, veins pronounced under your grip. he twitches when you give a slow twist near the tip, hips jolting forward. a groan rips from his throat, echoing off the tiled walls.

“scheiße,” he hisses, jaw working as he fights the urge to thrust. one hand flies to his hair, tugging as if the sting will help. water streaks down his face, lips parted, breaths breaking up his words.

“not helping,” you breathe, voice shaking. you press your mouth to his jaw, pressing a kiss there before your tongue darts out to taste the salt of his skin. his breath catches, eyes squeezing shut.

“oh, fuck-” his hips rock forward again, cock dragging through your fist, smearing more warmth along your stomach. precum drips from the flushed head, glistening in the steam-filled air.

a grin tugs at his lips, strained but there. “you tryna kill me?” the words slide out. "scheiß kleines ding…”

you laugh, kissing down his jaw. “not my fault you’re easy.” your thumb slides over the tip.

his head knocks back against the wall, neck stretching, throat working through a swallowed groan. “you- fuck- you think is easy?” a hand finds your chin, pulling your gaze up. “look at me.”

könig’s eyes catch yours. blown out. a ring of blue against black. then suddenly his lips curl, and his voice slips through his teeth.

“i have touched myself to you.”

you blink. “what?”

his grin widens. “before.” his hips push forward, cock dragging against your belly. “many times.”

your face burns.

“oh my god.”

his head dips, lips brushing yours, his breath hot and amused. “you do too, hm?”

your heart stops. heat shoots through you, cunt clenching. “yeah,” your breath shudders. “me too…”

his eyes widen, like he didn't expect you to admit to it, then narrows, grin pulling crooked. “yeah?” his cock twitches in your hand again. “fuckin’ knew it…” laughter spills out, breathless and warm.

könig’s head dips to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. tongue sliding against yours, messy and eager. laughter rumbles out, hips rolling, giggles slipping between mouths.

“fuckin’ knew it,” he repeats, words slurring together. “think about me late at night? fingers stuffed in that pretty cunt…”

you gasp, half scandalized, half aroused, hips shifting as slick pools between your thighs. “könig-”

“yeah?” another thrust. precum smears across your belly. “tell me.”

“i- fuck- yeah,” you breathe. “think about you all the time.”

he groans like the words alone could undo him. könig’s hands drop to grip your thighs, fingers digging firm into the flesh as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. your back meets the cold tile with a dull thud, heat from the shower clashing with the chill seeping through the wall.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close. his cock drags through your folds, thick length sliding slick against your cunt, nudging your entrance but never pushing in.

könig watches your face, chest lifting with every shaky breath. “how much do you take?”

you blink, heat simmering through your skin. “what?”

his cock slides against you again, harder this time, grinding against your clit, making you twitch. “normally. how much?”

a shrug rolls through your shoulders, confidence bubbling up, reckless. “all of it,” you answer without thinking, back arching, rubbing against him, arms looping around his neck. “i can take everything.”

he stills, expression shifting— his lips part, brows lifting just slightly. then he laughs, a low, amused sound, mouth curling into a grin. “nein, you can not.”

challenge flares in your chest. “i can.”

another laugh, softer now, hands adjusting on your thighs. “you are-” he shakes his head, grinning wider, lips brushing your cheek as he exhales, “-so very stupid.”

heat pools in your stomach, thighs clenching around him. “i’ll prove it.”

hands grip your thighs, fingers pressing deep into flesh as könig shifts his weight, cock grinding slow against your entrance, precum smearing where you’re slick and warm. a breath shudders out of him, jaw tight, brows pinching like he’s trying to hold something back. “you say this,” he mutters, “and then you cry.”

“i won’t,” you shoot back.

“hm.” his gaze flicks down to where his cock pushes against you, dragging through your folds. “we’ll see.”

könig’s fingers flex. his grip tightens and your breath hitches. “ready?”

“please,” you gasp, nails biting into his shoulders.

he grits his teeth, cock sliding as deep as your walls will allow, head bumping against your cervix. every sob that escapes your lips makes his hips stutter, breath catching like he’s holding on by a thread.

"oh shit," he mutters. "look at you... crying so much."

"feels too good." your hands are weak on his shoulders.

könig grins, breathless, hands squeezing your hips. "ja? but you begged for this, no? say ‘please, könig, fuck me’-" he mocks your voice, low and whiny, then thrusts, ripping a squeak out of you. "and now you cry like a little baby like i said."

you shake your head against his chest, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. you love it—you love his cock so much it hurts—but you just can’t stop the sounds. every thrust drags a new sob from you, body trembling in his grip.

"shh." he squints down at you. "you are too loud-" his hand slides to the back of your head, pressing you close. "fuck... here. suck."

your lips brush his chest, and his nipple is right there, stiff against warm skin. you hesitate, dizzy from pleasure, but then your mouth opens and you latch on, tongue flicking over the peak before you suck soft and slow.

könig’s hips jerk.

"oh, shit- good girl," he breathes, head falling back. his fingers tangle in your hair. "yeah, just like that. little baby needs something to suck on, huh?"

your cheeks burn, whining against his chest, mouth working over his nipple as his cock drags in deep and slow. he groans, low and desperate, fucking you through your cries.

"such a messy baby," he grins, looking far too fucked-out to be as smug as he is. "can’t stop crying, can you? too good, yes? too much?"

you nod, sobbing around him, and könig just laughs, like he can’t believe how fucked you both are.

"keep sucking," he growls. "will fuck you ‘til you’re dumb.”

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