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catboyieejeno · 18 days ago

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because even then, i knew — l.sm { 1 }

You have (1) new voicemail from: seokmin <3

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 0:58

“Hey. I know we haven’t talked in a while but… I wanted you to know that I miss you, and I miss us. And… I’m in love with you, if that means anything to you now.”

✰ genre: non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au

✰ cw: female reader, petnames, cursing, seokmin is desperately down bad, slowburn, pining, so much fluff, mentions of alcohol, consuming alcohol, nsfw, mentions of cheating, angst

✰ wc: 21k

✰ tracklist: {spotify} {apple music}

✰ navigation: {one} {two}

✰ note: this story is my absolute baby. i stared writing it one day with no plot in mind, and ended up with 45k. it's supposed to feel like a kdrama as you read it (and i mean this in every sense of the word—you will see), so please listen to the tracklist as you scroll. the songs are carefully timed in order to play as you read certain parts, but if you're not sure you're listening to the right song, part two will tell you where you should be and you will resync.

please love this story, it was written with an unbelievable amount of care, detail, and intention.

≡;- ꒰ ° one ꒱

Love at first sight is undoubtedly the biggest fabrication that the media and modern culture has ever tried to push on society. It only happens in the movies, and even then, it’s barely done right. There is no such thing as happy endings, because that’s not how things are in the real world.

Make no mistake; Lee Seokmin is not a pessimist, nor is he a bitter person. He’s the kind of guy who helps old people cross the street during rush hour, or helps kids pluck their balloons out of trees so they won’t cry. He actually does like long walks on the beach, as a matter of fact, and he happens to be a casual enjoyer of rom-coms, something his other male friends would rather die than admit to.

Once upon a time, he used to be a hopeless romantic, but that rug was pulled out from under him on a few too many occasions, and while he’s still a positive, amicable guy, he had learned that sometimes, things were too good to be true.

For example: when he was 7, he fell in love.

His 20 year old babysitter, who his parents had hired to watch over him on evenings while they were at work, was absolutely perfect—he knew from the moment he met her, she would be the girl he’d marry.

She was Korean, and a freshman in college with a major in business management. Every week, she would walk hand-in-hand with him to the corner store to buy him sausage sticks and sticky tteokbokki at the food cart with the money she could spare from her part time job as a tutor, since his parents would only leave money for emergencies. In return for her generosity, he’d sit still and play while she finished her homework, and occasionally, Seokmin would even pick flowers from his mom’s garden for her. This earned him a few scoldings, but that didn’t matter to him, because she was, and would always be worth it.

Until one day, where he had promised to behave while she finished a practice test. Poor, unsuspecting, seven-almost-eight-year-old Seokmin with his cheeks stuffed full of sausage and rice cake, overheard her calling another boy (albeit a boy her age who could actually reciprocate her affection) a sweet name over the phone. He dropped everything and stomped over to her, bursting into tears and rambling on about how she broke his heart. She was fired the very same evening as a consequence of his tantrum.

When he was 14, he fell in love again. And this time, it had to be love… right?

A family of foreigners had moved in across the street, and their daughter, who was the same age as him this time around, would come over to study with him after school and on the weekends. She’d teach him English, and he’d teach her Korean. She was his first kiss and his first girlfriend—they lasted a reputable two months—until they moved back overseas. Apparently, her parents had only moved there for the summer as part of a work-related trip, and when they said goodbye and promised to write, little Grace revealed she didn’t want a committed, long-distance relationship at the ripe age of fourteen.

In retrospect… maybe she was right, but Seokmin would never forget the way his heart shattered.

The only real, long-term girlfriend he’s had was a little over two years ago. They dated for over a year, she met his parents and he met her’s, the two of them even exchanged promise rings. At the time, he would gush to his friends about how he’d never met anyone as funny and brilliant as her, and how lucky he feels to have done so.

Then, the week before his birthday, Seokmin found out she had been sleeping with her best friend for months.

Love at first sight—true love—It was a flat out lie, and he refused to fall for its charm ever again.

So why, he thinks to himself, why can’t he stop looking at you?

He noticed you for the first time last week after his car had been totaled during an impromptu road trip the day prior. Soonyoung, one of his best friends, had gotten on the subway while drinking and somehow ended up eight stops away from his apartment at an ungodly hour in his wasted state. Seokmin was the only one that answered the phone. He picked him up, but on the way back, Soonyoung tried to crawl out the window of the passenger seat and Seokmin, whilst trying to pull him back inside, had crashed into a tree.

The car was old, and he was saving up for a new one anyway. That, and the insurance gave him some chump change for the wreckage, which was more than he’d thought he’d get, so it wasn’t too bad. The biggest inconvenience he faced now was getting to and from work.

Every night, after his shift at the flower shop, Seokmin would take the bus transit home. The first night, he only saw you in passing, because he practically had to run after the bus to catch it after arriving late to the stop. He took the first seat he could find, panting and exhausted after his long shift and the blip of a marathon he just ran, and sunk down into it.

Since he had never needed to take the bus until now, he spent some time glancing out the window and studying the route, discovering the stop near his apartment was the very last one, arriving at nearly 10:00 P.M. Yours was the second to last one, only a few blocks over. That evening, he only barely caught a glimpse of the side of your face as you climbed off, crossing the street and strolling out of sight with way too many things clutched within your jacketed arms.

The following night, he made it to the bus on time, thankfully, and spotted you sitting near the back, though that didn’t mean much to him yet. He took his same seat near the front, despite the many empty spots throughout the vehicle. And just like before, at the second to last stop, you walked down the middle aisle to exit.

This time, while wrestling your books, laptop case, walkman, and coat, your headset wire had snagged on the seat in front of him. He watched as you turned around and detangled it hurriedly, your gaze barely flickering up to meet his curious one for a split second. You flashed him a ghost of a smile and then, you were gone again.

Seokmin found himself looking forward to seeing you every single night from then on.

He decided to start sitting in the back of the bus too, blaming his avid interest in you purely on the distorted conclusion that it made no sense to sit in the front! He was always the last one aboard, and the back had so many more seats for him to get comfortable.

That’s what he convinced himself of, at least for the first few days. He tried sitting in a couple different spots, though he wouldn’t dare sit too close to you—he’s not that bold. He did, however, decide after his trial and error period that his favorite seat was the far left one on the last row. Your seat was forever unchanging, on the second to last row and all the way to the right.

This way, he could watch over your shoulder as you typed away on your computer. You seemed to be writing something personal, because night after night, you’d create paragraph after paragraph, working tirelessly to craft whatever it was that you were working on so extensively. He figured it couldn’t be just any assignment or work-related exposition. This meant something to you, and that only spiked his curiosity more. The only pause in your routine of clicking away at keys was skipping a song or two on your walkman or glancing out the window for inspiration.

He’s never sat close enough to actually read the words on your screen, but then again, that might be overstepping a bit. The urge does frequently bug him, though, especially when he notices how immersed you become the moment you lift the screen of your laptop and open your document. Every night, he watches you do the same thing, and every night, he fights the urge to strain his neck and catch a glimpse of a single word on your screen.

He contains himself, though, on the principle that eavesdropping is wrong, and he intends to never do you wrong.

On the sixth night he spends in his new seat, he notices about twenty minutes in when your fingers stop clicking away. At first, he considers the possibility that you may be thinking or planning your next sentence. But, as the bus nears your stop, you don’t move to start picking up your things. It immediately alerts him, and he sits up straighter as he realizes, you’ve fallen asleep.

He’s never given something so simple so much thought in such a short time. He can feel the bus slowing down, and he can hear the brakes screeching and wheezing. Would he feel worse for disturbing your rest and making an inevitably awkward first impression, or letting you continue to sleep and possibly (definitely) miss your stop?

Certainly the latter.

Without a second thought, Seokmin hurriedly slides out of his aisle and climbs down the two steps of the back row to reach you at your seat, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving it a light shake. You don’t budge, even when he calls out to you.

“Excuse me, Miss. Miss?”

As the bus comes to a full stop and the engine’s roar becomes suppressed, he can hear the music playing through the headset that sits still over your ears. With a grimace, he softly slips them off, and the action is enough to stir you awake. You blink in confusion as you adjust to the brightness of the lights inside the bus, and your eyes land on his widened ones.

“Sorry for waking you, but,” he gestures outside, “this is your stop.”

You look around to confirm, and upon seeing the familiar intersection and corner store, you realize what he’s saying is true.

A few things go through your head: First of all, the stranger in front of you has the kindest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Secondly, his nose is absolutely huge, and for some reason, he knows your stop, which makes you wonder where else he’s capable of poking it. So naturally, you ignore the sweet charm behind his eyes and shrug off his arm, grabbing your things quickly and booking it for the door that the bus driver has to reopen when he sees you approaching.

You climb off and consider taking a different route, but if he knows your stop, he likely knows which way you walk every single night. You curse at yourself for even falling asleep in the first place, then drag your feet along towards your apartment after accommodating your headphones back over your ears, your walkman clutched in hand, its music swirling in your ears once more.

Because of this, you miss the way Seokmin shouts after you for leaving your phone behind, and the way the bus driver then shouts at him for holding him up.

“I’ve got a wife to get home to, kid. Get back on the bus or I’m leaving you here.”

He looks between the device in his hand, you, and back at the burly bus driver who raises a threatening brow his way.

In defeat, he gets back on board and walks down until he’s reached his seat, but not before stopping at yours, or rather stumbling there with how aggressively the driver steps on the gas and sends him flying. He does a quick once over your seat to make sure you haven’t left or dropped anything else, but your phone is the only thing you forgot in your rush.

The drive to his street is rather short, and when he does some calculations on the maps app, he discovers it’s at most a half-hour walk from his place to yours. That revelation makes him regretful, because as he dismounts the bus, crosses the street, and climbs the flight of stairs to his apartment, he realizes he could’ve run after you and given you your phone and just walked home after. It would’ve allowed him to explain that he’s not a creep, and that he only knows your stop because you’re the only other person on the bus at that hour.

He thinks about his encounter with you the whole way to his apartment, and even at home while he takes his shower and brushes his teeth. And still, when he plugs your dead phone in, so that he can give it to you fully charged the next day. As it comes to life, half a dozen messages come in with a series of ‘dings’ from a contact you have saved as just a heart. He can’t read what the messages say because of the privacy settings you have in place, so he just silences it as more messages come in. He would have tried to let them know your phone isn’t with you, but the person with the heart alias never tries to call, and so there’s nothing Seokmin can do about it but hope tomorrow comes quickly.

That thought brings him back to you, and as he lies down, he finds himself tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep because he’s mulling over the way you shrugged him off. It’s only the long day at work, where he spent eight hours on his feet watering ficuses and making arrangements with daisies and lilies, that manages to silence his brain and lull his eyelids to a close so he can get some rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

His shift at the floral shop had gone by painfully slow today. The hours that usually pass relatively quickly with the friendly faces of Korean grandmas that stop by after going to the market, have dragged on for an eternity.

He reminds himself that he’s going to see you tonight and that thought gets him through the day. He’ll at last be able to redeem himself of the interaction that’s been haunting him for the last twelve hours. He even dreamt about you, specifically about the conversation going a completely different way than it did.

“Sorry for waking you, but this is your stop.”

“Oh, my god,” you said. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize I drifted off.”

“No worries,” Seokmin would flash you a smile and help you with your things, since he had noticed your tendency to travel with more than you could carry. “Here.”

“Thanks again, uh…”

“Seokmin.”

“Seokmin,” you’d repeat, and even in his dream, he had reeled over the way his name rolled off your tongue.

In an extra effort to mend things over with you, Seokmin dips into his weekly paycheck at the end of his shift to buy you a tote bag from the shop. That way, you’d have a place to pack your laptop when you weren’t typing up stories, and your coat that you insisted on draping over your arm? It could go in there, too!

Why you chose to listen to music on a walkman in today’s modern age, he has no idea—but now you’d have a place to store it so you won’t leave it behind like you had your phone.

The tote bag he picks out for you is the nicest, most sizable one in stock. It’s the first time he’s bought anything from the floral shop, so the measly ten percent employee discount he got was rather underwhelming. Still, it would be worth it. He’d hand you your phone, explain himself to clear up the previous night's confusion, and offer you the tote bag as a gift.

When he climbs on the bus later that evening, you’re sitting in the same spot as always, except this time, you’re expecting him. Your eyes flash up at him then fall back to your laptop. Subsequently, you slump further down in your seat, and Seokmin quickly realizes you’re trying to avoid him.

Now—he had talked himself through the plan of approaching you all day, it’s all he thought about during the less busy hours of his shift to pass the time. He had walked through the process once, twice, and then again in hopes of nailing down every detail, but he didn’t once account for your very obvious disinterest.

It offsets his mood entirely, which was confident and sociable just moments ago, and he trails down the aisle, past your seat, and to his own instead with discouragement.

The moment he sits, it’s as if someone winded up his leg: it starts restlessly bouncing, and his mind mirrors the action, his inner monologue providing no relief for his grief.

If he was any other rational person, he would’ve taken your coldness with a grain of salt; he’d hand you your phone, say “you left this.” and go on about his day—no, his life, as if this moment, as if meeting you, was nothing more than an insignificant scene in the story of his life. He wouldn’t spend every hour overthinking your first impression of him, or feeling disappointed that it wasn’t what he wanted it to be. And he certainly wouldn’t be here, talking himself up to the task of walking over to you once more.

Even his own forgiving conscience is embarrassed when he readies himself to stand, chanting “Ok. 3…2…” and then sits back down in defeat.

This goes on for the better part of an hour, until Seokmin remembers you’d be getting off soon. This realization materializes as the last person besides the two of you gets off, and the familiar buildings that are just a few blocks away from your stop come into view. At the same time, a new string of messages come in from the same individual who was writing to you last night, and Seokmin decides it’s about time that he returns your phone to you—for real this time.

With a nod to himself, he pushes off the chair with his legs and forces them to move him over to you, where he stands for a few seconds, waiting for you to notice him. In one hand, he’s holding out your phone, and under his other arm is the folded tote bag he’s planning to give you. He can’t get his tongue to comply, making his feet work was hard enough, so hovers over you a little longer until you practically feel his eyes on you and look up.

“Hi–”

You slide your headphones off one ear, and he clears his throat.

“Hi.” He repeats, “My name is Seokmin. I’m the guy who woke you up last night.”

“I know.” You cast your eyes down to your phone and he leans it closer to you.

“You left your phone here.”

Your lips purse contemplatively as you take it, mumbling out a quick “thanks,” and unlocking it to inspect your pile of notifications. Seokmin only clears his throat again.

“I also wanted to apologize for yesterday. I didn’t mean to come off as a weirdo, It’s just–”

You seem to lose focus of what he’s saying as you read through the messages on your phone, a deep frown molding over your features. The fact that you’re not listening at all trips him up, especially when he’s trying so hard to recite the mental script he prepared for this very moment.

“Uh, I just… The only reason I know your stop is because it’s only you and me on the bus this late. So, you know–”

As he points this out, you perk your head up and look around, as if to check for yourself that this is, in fact, true. It doesn’t ease your apprehension about him, but his kind eyes look so desperate in their plea for your understanding that, for a fleeting instant, you manage to hone in on his explanation and dismiss your suspicions about his nosy tendencies.

“Naturally, I just noticed, and I didn’t want you to miss your stop.”

When you nod once and say “ok,” he almost wishes you hadn’t said anything at all. That’s it? That’s all you have to say to ease his discomfort?

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he didn’t almost forget, he just wanted to sound nonchalant, “I got you this since you’re always–”

“Well, Seokmin…” It’s even better than in his dream, hearing you say his name, “You should know better than me by now that,” you point outside and the bus reaches a halt, “this is my stop.”

Hurry up, Seokmin. “I got you this bag for your things.”

You take it from his outstretched hands with the smallest mutter of gratitude, but don’t bother to inspect it or put it to use. You simply pile it atop of your laptop and coat with pursed lips, not sparing it a second glance. He’s almost confused about why you’re still staring him down expectantly after that, until it becomes clear to him that he’s blocking the aisle and in turn, your exit.

Somewhat awkwardly, Seokmin moves aside, and you waste no time in passing right by him and heading for the door with all your trinkets stacked up in your arms.

Dejection is an appropriate word to describe how Seokmin feels right about now. So is frustration.

Even after you leave, cross in front of the bus, and make your way home, Seokmin stands in the same spot, dumbfounded. He stays like this for a few seconds, even when the bus moves and messes with his balance. It’s not until his annoyance really settles in, nestling in his bones and making his face glow red, that he manages to stomp back over to his spot and plop down.

You are easily the most irritating person he has ever met; ill-mannered, ungrateful, rude, and downright selfish. Seokmin stopped going to therapy months after he recovered from his ex, but he finds himself regressing in the ‘self-recognition’ area at this moment. Although he can consciously acknowledge that his anger stems from your interaction not going as he wanted it to, he still decides to dump the blame on you and call you all these names in his head. Why he so desperately wants to be liked by you, he doesn’t know. Why he’s irrationally spiraling in the absence of your approval, he also doesn’t know.

What he does know is that the next twenty-four hours are going to be just as bad as the last, and he’s going to be kicking himself until he sees you again and gives you a piece of his mind.

Tonight, he rolls around in bed longer than usual, until the clock strikes two and he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

The next day, when Seokmin boards the bus, you’re nowhere to be seen. You’re not at your seat, nor anywhere else for that matter, which he decides is for the best, because he’s able to swallow down his explosive complaints for another day instead of possibly causing a scene on the bus.

Ha! You’re lucky you didn’t get on tonight, he thinks, I'll spare you from my lecture for another evening.

Except the following night, you aren’t there either.

As it turns out, you aren’t on the bus for the next six days straight.

And instead of recovering from his emotions like a normal person, Seokmin is only spurred on, tormented and pursued by his thoughts of you. They've shifted, because now he can only help but wonder what you’re up to. He’s back to square one, wondering if he weirded you out so much that you resorted to finding another means of transportation with the sole intention of avoiding him.

Then, he reproaches himself, his rationale telling him that surely, there must be another reason for your absence—one that isn’t at all related to him. He ponders this as he piles a few stems of lilies and eucalyptus on one another, wrapping them and tying them closed.

“Seokmin-ah. What’s the matter?”

He turns quickly to face Ms. Boo, the owner of the flower shop and the grandmother of his best friend. On more than a few occasions, she had acted as a grandmother to him, too—bringing him lunches and pestering him about eating enough, or nagging him for not dressing properly in cold weather.

“Nothing!”

“Look what you’re doing to my flowers.” She narrows her eyes, extending a wrinkled finger out in his direction.

Seokmin glances down to find that his knuckles have gone white against the stem of the baby’s breath he's been unconsciously shaking like a rattle. The delicate white flowers have been pulverized, reduced to white fuzz on the arrangement he was attempting to make and the surrounding surface of the work station.

“Ah, shi-“ She gives him a glare, “Sorry.” He quickly rephrases, “I’ll clean this up.”

As Ms. Boo straightens out some gardenias in a vase, she asks him again, “What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath, reaching for the dustpan under the counter. “It’s just… Someone I met on the bus.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very.” He nods, then sighs. “I just wish the conversation we had went differently, that’s all.”

“Well,” She seems to be mustering up her years of wisdom, eyebrows raising as she fixes her apron, “You’re a handsome boy, Seokmin-ah. And you’ve got good sense. God knows you’ve got more than Seungkwan,” she grumbles the last part, and it makes Seokmin’s lips curl up a bit. “Your car isn’t fixed yet, right?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“So, then get back on the bus tonight and talk to her.” She insists with the assurance only an 85 year old grandmother could have.

“I would, but…”

“And stop moping. You’re making the flowers sad. They feel these kinds of things.” She nods, feeling the petal of the lily between her fingertips. Suddenly, she snaps her fingers, “Finish this arrangement and get back to work.”

He finishes brushing the white fuzz of the carnation into the dustpan and discarding it before tackling the bouquet he was previously working on with a tad more care. He finishes after deciding the pale flowers need a touch of color, so he adds a few pink roses and places it in a bucket near the front window of the store on display.

He takes a moment to glance outside at the busy street, watching the people that pass by. Couples stroll hand in hand, and more often than not, the girls will stop their partner to point out the flowers. This was a common occurrence, and if Seokmin was lucky, the displays would draw in a few more customers than usual.

Not today, though. As he does a once over every arrangement he’s chosen to display on the window, he realizes they all lack something besides effort. He can’t put his finger on exactly what they’re missing, but Ms. Boo was right— the plants do feel emotions—and these weren’t particularly joyous creations.

As he sprays the leaves with a little mist bottle he carries around in his apron, he watches through the window each person that passes by in an effort to pass the time. It isn’t like there’s much to do during the less busy hours, and there’s only so many arrangements he can make when they’re all coming out dull and lifeless to match his gloom.

So, Seokmin opts for people watching, until a specific individual catches him by surprise.

At first, he thinks he’s seeing things.

Not only have you stopped outside the shop to gaze and gawk at the flowers while wearing a soft, admiring look, but soon enough, the bell above the door has chimed, meaning you’ve actually come inside.

He would greet you, as he’s supposed to do when a customer enters the shop, but he… can’t—at least not from where he is now, ducking behind the sales counter.

Before you could have spotted him, his fight or flight reflexes, or in this case just flight, had kicked in. He could’ve easily ran behind the curtain to the room where some of the flowers are stored, but then he would’ve ran into Ms. Boo, who would have questioned his reasons for leaving the counter unattended.

Then, he realizes that Seungkwan wouldn’t be coming in until later, and their other part-timer Eunchae didn’t work today because she had an exam at school.

The service bell at the counter rings once and he grimaces, full of hopeful thinking that you’d just go away if no one appeared. Instead you ring it again, and he ducks lower, until some shuffling behind him and the voice of his best friend’s grandmother gives him away.

“Seokmin-ah, there’s someone at the counter!”

There’s a pause, and though he can’t see how your ears perk up at the sound of the familiar name, he knows he’s absolutely busted because even if you didn’t correlate that ‘Seokmin’ was also the same guy who woke you up on the bus, he’d be forced to show himself before long. Ms. Boo continues to ramble, much to his dismay.

“Are you still sulking over the pretty girl from the bus?” Yeah, that’ll do it. “Ah, Seokmin-ah… I don’t pay you to sulk.”

At this, Seokmin covers his face with his palm.

He has no way of knowing that as he’s willing and pleading with the ground to swallow him whole and spare him from the incoming embarrassment, Ms. Boo’s comment had brought a little smile to your face. You’re peering around the shop for him when you see someone start to peek out from the other side of the counter.

First, his fingers. They land on the marble surface, and less than a second later, his dark mop of hair follows, appearing past the slope. Then, his kind eyes, big nose, and his teeth, clenched together tightly in reluctance as he takes in your amused gaze.

You cross your arms over your chest and Seokmin scoffs, shooting up suddenly.

“This is unbelievable!” His laugh is loud and theatrical, though a touch ironic, given the whole ‘hiding-from-you-behind-the-counter’ situation just seconds prior. He doesn’t let his obvious preposterousness stop his rampage, though. In very Seokmin fashion, he commits to the bit, puffing up his chest a little. “You call me a stalker and now you go and stalk me to my place of employment!”

“I never called you a stalker.” You say simply, and his face falters only slightly. “Nor did I stalk you.” Seokmin rolls his eyes as you continue. “Also, who even says ‘place of employment?’”

As if straight out of a bad middle school play, which Seokmin had plenty of practice at back in his day, he regains his confidence at his turn to speak his line, scoffing again at your nonchalant attitude. Why were you so unbothered about the way you treated him? He ignores your question, and readies his next comeback.

“Yeah? Well, then how did you know where I work, huh?”

When you wordlessly turn to show off the tote bag slung over your shoulder, a few things occur.

The color of Seokmin’s cheeks become very red, very fast. His ears quickly glow a similar shade to match. He completely deflates—letting up on his accusations and dropping the theatrics. There’s a reason he’s a florist and not an actor.

Then, he realizes what you’re showing off—the tote bag! You’re wearing the bag he got you! You’re actually using it! He can see the wire of your headset poking out of the top, and the square mold of your laptop filling the material!

At the same time, however, his eyes land on the only design or pattern it has. Sewn in black, the bag boldly displays the name of Ms. Boo’s flower shop. At this, Seokmin smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck.

“I figured I’d find you here.” You mumble, taking a look around, “it’s a pretty place.”

“Yeah.” He nods, but he’s still eyeing you suspiciously, waiting for you to announce the reason for your visit.

“I came to…” your fingers reach over the counter to brush off the fuzz of the baby’s breath that remained on his dark green apron, and Seokmin tucks his chin to his chest, exposing all of his chins as his eyes shift between your hand and eyes that are both set on his torso.

”There.” You sigh, “I came to apologize. I was going through a… Well, anyway, I wasn’t exactly nice to you, so…”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Seokmin grumbles.

“Sorry. And thank you.”

“For?”

You swing the bag around again, “It came in handy.”

”Oh,” He knew it would, “I’m glad.”

“Seokmin-ah… There’s someone at the—Oh, hello.” Shuffling over with a wad of eucalyptuses in her arms, Ms. Boo smiles warmly at you, as she does with all customers who stop by the shop.

”Ms. Boo, this is…“

”Y/N.”

“Y/N.” Both of them echo your name, though Seokmin does it under his breath, in a quiet affirmation to himself. He decides instantly that it’s perfect, and that it suits you perfectly. He doesn’t intend for it to be a Tony and Maria situation, but the way it sounds, rolling off his tongue, is seamless and simply, right.

”It’s lovely to meet you,” Ms. Boo adds.

“Likewise. Excuse me, I wanted to know if I borrow Seokmin real quick? I owe him a coffee.”

Seokmin hisses apprehensively, reinstating his act momentarily as he begins rolling up his sleeve to search for the time on his watch. “Yeah, well, my break isn’t for another—“

”Take him, please. But only give him back when he’s in a better mood.” She gives him a light-hearted glare as she scurries away, calling out, “every plant he’s walked past today has wilted.”

“I plan to do just that. Thank you.”

He makes it look like he’s in some kind of distress when he unties his apron and lifts the neckloop over his head, but really, he can’t wait to cut work for a coffee with you. There’s a little cafe nearby, and he’s almost sure that’s where you’ll be taking him. He also can’t wait to recommend his favorite drink to you, though part of him worries you might not enjoy it and consequently bruise his ego a little—given the fading but still ever-present grudge he’s holding against you.

Seokmin can’t help but prolong the act of clocking out: changing shoes, grabbing his wallet and phone from his cubby, folding his apron (instead of hanging it up in whatever state it’s in, as he usually does), while you shift your weight between your heels and gawk at him in wait. He does all this in an effort to extend the minutes he has with you. His break is fifteen minutes, but those fifteen minutes can’t go by if the clock technically hasn't started counting.

You stand by patiently, following him around with your eyes as he tidies up a single flower out of place or wipes his hands down on a rag. When he’s finally ready, and can’t be bothered to pretend that lacing his sneakers actually takes longer than two minutes, he joins you on the other side of the counter and follows you to the door.

Feeling a little nervous, he clears his throat. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We can just go our separate ways.”

“I do. This way, I can properly convey my apology and gratitude. You know: two birds, one stone.”

“Those are two separate things… It’s only right that you would owe me two coffees then.” The way he grumbles under his breath unveils some of his bitterness, though you can tell by the half-hearted side-eye he gives you as he fights back a grin, that he’s really only messing with you.

So you laugh, and Seokmin feels his heart do a somersault in his chest. With a shake of your head, you turn to him, defeated. “Alright. You can get a coffee and a muffin.”

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see your smile again, he brings his hand up to rub his chin, “Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t really like muffins.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to stop by tomorrow, too.”

At this, Seokmin smiles from ear to ear, tilting his head away towards the street so that you don’t catch the way he lights up at the prospect of possibly seeing you again.

As the two of you cross the street, you notice a bus stop a little up the way, nodding towards it so he can look. “Is that where you catch the bus?” He nods. “Funny, my stop is only two blocks down the street we came from.”

Seokmin reaches for the door of the cafe, holding it open for you to walk through. To his delight, you seem to be fascinated by the space—meaning it’s likely you haven’t been here before. He watches as you study the rustic lights on the ceiling, the shiny wooden tables, and the botany at the window.

“These look like the ones from your shop.”

“That’s because they are.” He stands beside you. “The owner of the cafe loves the classics. So do I. So, in exchange for a floral arrangement or two, he lets me borrow a book.” He watches your gaze leave him to face the singular bookshelf he had gestured to, a tall collection of literary classics neatly sorted by author. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head as you take it in, mouth agape as you slowly step toward the shelves.

Not yet grasping the extent of your fascination, and with the line to order clearing out, Seokmin remembers he’s on a schedule. “Do you wanna order?”

“I…” You shake your head, fingertips ghosting over the spine of the books without grazing them, because you know better than to touch an antique collection. It doesn’t stop you from admiring them, mumbling out a response to the boy next to you without giving it much thought. “I usually get… You know what, just order whatever for me.”

You dig for your wallet in the tote bag, handing your card to him without tearing your eyes away from the sight before you. Seokmin only laughs and takes it without the slightest intention to use it. He orders you the drink he thinks you might like the best, as someone with a taste for the traditional things--like classic literature and walkmans--and orders himself a more sugary poison to nurture his sweet tooth.

When he pays, he doesn’t use your card, but he wraps the receipt around it anyway so you won’t holster any suspicion that he did exactly what he did. He only checks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still distracted, and you are, ogling the books as if you had never seen anything as marvelous as the contents of this bookshelf before.

He feels something fluttering in his chest, and he knows very well what caused it, but he pays it no mind—opting instead for leaning into the cashier who he’s frequently talked to during his coffee breaks with his caffeine crazy friend, Boo Seungkwan.

“Hey, Josh. Do you know if Mr. Kim is in today?” Kim Jongdae, the owner of the cafe, had a soft spot for the flower shop boys ever since they helped make him a beautiful bouquet for his wife’s birthday. Then, for their anniversary and every celebration thereafter.

Joshua shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he starts on the drinks. “He’s out for the day. It’s the little one’s birthday.”

“Shame. I wanted to borrow a book.”

“I mean… You know you can just grab any off the shelf.” He mumbles, hissing as he nearly burns his finger with the steaming espresso maker, “Which one do you want?”

“Whichever one she does.” He turns to you,“That’s why I wanted to ask. It’s not for me, but for her.”

“Ah.” Joshua looks between the two of you, without missing the gentle smile on Seokmin’s face as he watches you. He only manages to look away when the older boy at the counter sets both drinks down and clears his throat. “Here.”

“Right.”

“And about that book,” he gestures to you, “I’ll ask Mr. Kim when I see him tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” With both drinks and your card wrapped in his receipt all clutched in his hands, he makes his way over to you quietly, as if any abruptness would disturb your studying of each and every title. But you hear him coming—that, or you smell the fresh coffee nearing you—so you spin around on your heels quickly, whisper-shouting as if he wasn’t right beside you now.

“This is incredible. I’m usually at the library until I get on the bus but–thank you,” You take the drink and instantly bring it to your lips for a sip, “Even the library doesn’t have this good of a–ah, hot!”

“Be careful!” Seokmin fights the urge to beckon his hand closer to you, but his shoulders still jolt up in concern that you may have burned yourself.

“–good of a collection–wow, this is really good.” Your shift in focus makes him hold back a snort.

“You like it?”

“Yes, thank you. Should we sit?” He follows you to a table by the window, where the two of you can glance out at the bustling street as you chat.

“Ms. Boo is nice.” You comment, as you notice one of the displays from the shop sitting at the sill.

“She is. She nags, but it’s only because she cares. I wouldn’t change anything about her.”

You wear a warm smile on your lips as you take another sip, savoring the rich taste of your coffee. “I really like my drink. What did you get for yourself?”

Seokmin’s fingers move lazily to push the cup towards you. “Do you wanna try it?”

You hesitate, your gaze flicking between his inviting smile and the drink. After a moment’s pause, you reach for one of the wrapped paper straws sitting near the sugar and salt. You peel it open, pop it into the cup, and take a sip. You seem to like it at first, but then, the overwhelming sweetness hits, a syrupy storm that floods your taste buds, and you immediately regret your decision.

Your face scrunches up in disbelief as you try not to choke on the sugary onslaught, your throat resisting the thick sweetness. “Oh god,” you gasp, your eyes wide.

Seokmin’s laughter bubbles up effortlessly, and he rolls his eyes, clearly entertained by your reaction. You slide the drink back across the table to him, still reeling from the shock of it. “That’s—how can you even drink that?” you manage between soft chuckles.

“Really? It’s not that bad,” he says with a teasing grin, unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly struggling. “I’d say your drink needs an acquired taste.”

“Mine? I’m drinking coffee.” You set your cup down, now fully convinced that whatever he’s drinking is a bizarre concoction. “I don’t know what you’re drinking.”

Seokmin shrugs, his grin only widening. “Agree to disagree.” His cheeks aching from the persistent smile that seems to be permanently affixed to his face now.

You laugh in disbelief before taking a few large gulps of your own coffee, feeling its familiar warmth wash over you and effectively wiping away the remnants of Seokmin’s sugary disaster from your palate.

“So,” you begin, eyes narrowing slightly as you shift your focus to him, “how long have you been working there?”

“For a year now.” He leans back slightly in his chair, clearly more relaxed than before.

“Do you like it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He pauses, as if considering his words carefully before answering. “It’s… I mean, yes.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I spotted some hesitation there.”

He sighs, a quiet exhale of air as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not like I wanna be there forever.” His tone shifts, like he’s trying to brush off the weight of the subject, but it lingers.

Glancing down at your cup, you swirl it around absentmindedly to cool the contents. You try to lighten the mood, teasing him, “Not taking over Ms. Boo’s position in the future?”

Seokmin smiles, clearly amused by the suggestion. “I’ll leave that to her grandson. He works there, too.” He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture, but there's a quiet finality in his words.

Feeling the need to dig a little deeper, you sit up straight, eyes bright with curiosity. “Okay, so what is it that you wanna do?”

Seokmin’s smile falters just a fraction, and for a brief moment, the easy-going confidence he always wears slips. His fingers fiddle with the edge of his cup, and he looks off into the distance, his expression turning distant. “It’s nothing,” he mutters, his tone dropping low.

You pause, sensing something behind the simplicity of his words, but you don’t press further. “It isn’t nothing.” You shake your head, “It’s what you wanna do with your life. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

After a brief pause that consists of looking between your eyes and playing with the syllables stuck thickly in his mouth, Seokmin mumbles a single word. “Music.”

“Music?” You echo him, then stay silent so he can elaborate. You can tell he feels some degree of discouragement, obvious in the way his shoulders slump down. His hands start fidgeting and he looks out the window again as he seems to recall some memory.

“But it’s nothing serious right now. I mess around with my guitar and write stuff every once in a while, but… I haven’t really played since—“

“I would love to hear,” you cut him off, leaning forward, “If you ever feel like showing someone, I would love to listen to you play.”

There’s a sudden bitterness in his throat (that definitely isn’t his coffee) as he recalls a slightly stirring memory. It’s not as distant as he would like it to be, despite his attempt to store it in the ‘do-not-open’ file of his mind, but it doesn’t stop him from nodding along and agreeing to your offer with some apprehension, because truthfully, you had no part in carving that scar.

Simply put: you were not her.

“I haven’t played in a while,” he rephrases, “but when I pick it up again, you’ll be the first person I show.”

It doesn’t take long before you start telling him about your studies, now that you had succeeded in interrogating him with a few of your burning questions, and it becomes apparent to Seokmin very quickly how easy conversation flows with you. Each word you utter is warm, welcoming, almost familiar, as if he had known you for longer than he did–and he suddenly feels very guilty for having misjudged you.

It’s not like you know of the way he bad-mouthed you in his sensitive mind, so there really is no need to compensate for it. Even then, he feels he owes you something—like he should make it up to you for thinking such things about a person of your nature.

He learns that you’re a student who’s majoring in English literature, with the aspiration to be a writer. The two of you agreed that he’d show you his music, and you’d show him what you’re working on—the last of which delighted him, seeing as he’d spent weeks trying to guess what your fingers typed away on your computer each night on the bus. You hate sugary drinks, that much you made clear, and you had a strong distaste for the smell of holiday candles.

Every word you’d spill left him on the edge of his seat, wanting to know more about you. If it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to go back to work, he’d have sat with you for the whole afternoon listening to you talk.

But instead, you join him on his walk back to the flower shop, unknowingly having fulfilled your promise to bring him back in a better mood.

“Ms. Boo?”

“Seokmin-ah? You’re back right on time. There’s a customer who needs a graduation arrangement for their son.” Seokmin can tell she’s in the backroom, wrestling the hose to fill the watering can from the strain in her voice.

“I’ll get my apron on!” He calls, then spins around to face you, “Thank you for today. I liked my coffee, even if you didn’t think it was great.”

“Good to know. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow? Won’t I catch you on the bus tonight?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he hopes you didn’t catch the disappointment behind them.

“Tonight’s the last night of my study group, and those usually run late.” So that’s why you hadn’t been taking the bus lately, “So, tomorrow it is. Unless you don’t want that second coffee…”

“I do.” He insists, and your lips curl up as you reach for the doorknob.

“Alright, then.”

The instant the door shuts behind you, he starts counting down the hours until he can see you again.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Seokmin’s shift could not have gone any slower. Unlike any day before, the hours could not seem to pass, despite how badly he willed them to. Aside from Seungkwan’s occasional side-eyed-glares and complaints of his uncharacteristically fast work pace today, Seokmin has managed to complete his tasks for the day and more: he prepared two graduation orders placed last minute and a walk-in customer who was uncertain of what ‘I’m sorry’ bouquet to get his girlfriend, all while trying to appease potential buyers who entered the shop, drawn in by the six new bouquet’s he’d made this very same morning and displayed at the window.

All that, and it’s only fifteen past eleven in the morning.

“What has you in such a rush? I’m like four orders behind you. Usually, it’s the other way around.” The last part is but a grumble under his breath.

Unable to explain, because he isn’t exactly sure of the answer either, Seokmin brushes Seungkwan's suspicious raised brow off and mentions something that would pique his interest instead, in hopes of changing the topic.

“You know Soonyoung said Chan blew him off for a date? They were supposed to go out drinking and then—”

“And then Minji called him and he bailed, I know. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“And then—”

“Slow down!” Seungkwan all but yanks the scissors from his best friend’s hands, which is, needless to say, not the safest thing to do, and puts them at his own station. “You’ve been hogging them for the last hour.” he hisses, “If my grandma comes in and sees that I’m this far behind, she’ll make me skip my break.”

“I just need time to pass by quickly. I figure if I keep myself busy, it just might.”

“Time doesn’t work like that, idiot.”

“Actually, it does. Idiot.” He sneers back, and Seungkwan could not look more offended if he tried—eyes wide, lips puckered to shape a word he doesn’t quite get to say. He swings back his arm, but before Seokmin could get smacked by the handful of tulips in his grip, Ms. Boo comes bustling through, humming a mindless tune as she clutches a pen and a few envelopes in her arms.

“Boys, I've got your pay for this week and the next. I have an appointment with Dr. Hong next Friday, so I won’t be here. I expect you’ll take care of the shop while I’m—these arrangements are lovely. Who made them?”

The boys look between each other, and Seokmin huffs out before answering. “We both did, Ms. Boo.”

“Good work. Lovely…” She starts mumbling to herself again as she shifts her attention from the flowers at the windowsill to the bills in her hands, counting them and separating them into two even piles.

At Seokmin’s reply (call it an unspoken truce), Seungkwan visibly relaxes, releasing the flowers before he could ruin them and scurrying over to his grandma. “Have you been taking your medicine? You know he’ll scold you otherwise.”

“I’m too old to be scolded,” She replies stubbornly, and their conversation fades momentarily as the door chimes again.

“Welcome to Botanical–oh.” Seokmin’s scripted introduction is cut short as he notices that it’s you who has entered the shop, wearing a small smile.

“Hi.” You greet him, “and hello, Ms. Boo.”

“Hello.” She chirps, “Y/N, was it?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Hey,” Seokmin’s wide smile, which nourished the moment he laid eyes on you, suddenly falters as he realizes the time. “Shit, are you here for-”

“Language.”

“Sorry,” he bows his head apologetically at Ms. Boo, then grabs your arm to drag you a little further from the pair, “I can’t take my break right now.” He tells you, regretfully. Your smile falls a little.

“Really? I was looking forward to our coffee time. Plus, I desperately need some caffeine. I’ve been reading this boring manuscript since seven.” You scowl, gesturing to the stack of papers overflowing from your bag.

That pout, the one on your lips: it needs to be fixed as soon as possible. Seokmin holds a single finger up as he scours his brain for a plan, “Wait here a second. Let me see what I can do.” With that, he turns around and speedwalks over to Seungkwan, who hands him his half of the money.

“Here.”

“Thanks.” Seokmin takes the bills, not quite meeting Seungkwan’s eyes as he pockets them. “Hey, listen…” His voice drops, just low enough that it almost feels like a secret. “I need to take my break now.”

Seungkwan blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing. “What?!”

“Shh!” Seokmin urges, his face a mix of impatience and pleading. He tugs at his sleeve, leaning closer so only Seungkwan can hear. “Please.”

“No way,” Seungkwan protests, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “I take the morning breaks, you take the afternoon. That’s how this works.”

Seokmin’s expression hardens just a fraction, the edge of desperation creeping in as he stands a little taller. “Seungkwan, I’m begging you to switch with me just this once.”

Seungkwan stares at him, weighing his options. His arms remain crossed, a stubborn defiance settling into his posture. “No way.”

With no other option, Seokmin huffs and crosses his arms firmly over his chest.

“Fine,” Seokmin finally says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll just go tell your grandma how many customers I’ve helped today and that all the displays were my doing and—”

“Okay, okay!” Seungkwan interrupts, throwing his hands up in surrender. “God, dude, you really suck. Don’t make this a habit, yeah?”

Spoiler alert: he would.

Seokmin’s face lights up with a grin. “Thank you!” he exclaims, not even giving Seungkwan a chance to protest before his apron is untied with a swift yank. It’s tossed into Seungkwan’s arms, and Seokmin is already dashing toward the back, his shoes clacking against the floor with each hurried step.

He doesn't wait for the usual stream of complaints to catch up to him, knowing full well that they’re coming. Quickly, Seokmin kicks off his non-slip shoes in one fluid motion, leaving them in a pile as he slides into his own sneakers.

Less than a minute later, he joins you by the door.

“Coffee time?” His tone is playful, and you mirror it as you nod once.

“Coffee time.”

The cafe has a few students scattered around with their laptops when you enter. There’s also a few others, people who Seokmin knows work in the stores and buildings nearby. They stop by occasionally for their lunch and coffee breaks, but even then, the cafe is emptier than it is most days at this time. Mr. Kim is alongside Joshua, tending to something on the register, when the two of you approach them.

“Morning,”

“Good morning, Seokmin.” Kim Jongdae offers the boy a warm smile.

There’s a bit of small talk exchanged between them—Mr. Kim asks about Ms. Boo and Seungkwan, Seokmin asks about his son’s birthday—until Seokmin goes to introduce you, but turns around to find you near the bookshelf once more. This seems to remind Mr. Kim of something he discussed earlier with Joshua.

“My answer is yes, by the way.” He starts, “Joshua asked me this morning. He said you, or rather, she wanted to borrow a book. Go ahead. It’s the least I can do to repay you boys for the hard work you do to make this place look nice.” Mr. Kim gives him a firm nod, patting Joshua on the back after briefly explaining a new menu item on the screen. He walks off, and Seokmin calls out to him.

“Thank you, really!” He turns to Joshua, “and thank you, too. I’ll get the same two drinks as yesterday. ”

“You got it.”

He pays quickly and turns around, pausing for a few moments to admire you before taking two long strides over. When he’s beside you, he lowers his head so it’s by your shoulder and speaks quietly, so as to not disturb you. “Which one piques your interest?”

“Which ones,” you correct, marveling up at him before looking back to the shelves. “There’s so many. I wouldn’t know which one to grab first if I could.” Your index finger comes up after a pause, “Maybe this one.”

“Go on, then.”

“I wish.” you sigh, and he can no longer withhold his smile.

“I’m serious. Grab it. I asked the owner for permission.”

Your head cranes slowly over to him, eyes so wide he swears he could have seen his reflection in them.

“Are you serious?” Your voice is soft, unsure, surprised, grateful. You’re almost not sure whether to believe him or not, but when his gentle brown eyes look between you and the book, and he gives you a little encouraging nudge on your shoulder as a go ahead, you finally move to reach out slowly and pick it off of the shelf, cradling it in your hands as if it was a precious thing.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” His voice is calm but sincere, and there’s a small, almost thoughtful smile tugging at his lips as he watches you. The shelf you’d been looking at earlier, once so absorbing, now feels distant as your attention shifts entirely to him.

You blink, unsure how to respond, and for the first time in a while, you find yourself lost for words. “Gosh, I-I don’t… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He mutters with a crooked smile.

“Thank you.” You repeat the words, quieter this time.

“Anytime.” He shrugs. For a moment, the two of you are caught in a quiet, comfortable pause.

It’s only Joshua calling Seokmin’s name from across the room that snaps the two of you back to reality. You blink and suddenly remember—you’re the one who owes him a coffee, not the other way around.

“Wait, you ordered already?”

“I kinda had to.” Seokmin shrugs sheepishly, his eyes flicking over to the counter before returning to you. “Honestly, I’m more scared of going over my break time while Seungkwan is there than when it’s just Ms. Boo.”

“That’s your friend, right? Seungkwan?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Yep,” Seokmin replies. “The one with the dyed blonde hair who always looks like he’s about to complain about something.”

“That’s Ms. Boo’s grandson, then.” You piece it together with a grin, and Seokmin hands you your drink. You take it but find your thoughts drifting again.

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, noticing your distracted gaze.

“I still owe you,” you admit softly, looking down at the drink in your hands. “For the bag and the book.”

Seokmin bumps your shoulder lightly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess you’ll just have to keep stopping by.”

“I guess I will,”

To his delight, the rest of Seokmin’s shift was effortless and quick. There was the occasional bickering with Seungkwan, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. And, for some reason, he didn’t seem to mind it as much today. Because, waiting for him at the bus stop when he arrived later that very same evening, was you, eager to tell him all about the book you had started reading.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Seokmin had never been a fan of routines. His personality was spontaneous, and so the things he did on a day-to-day basis were too. Up until now, the only constants in his life were the flower shop and his friends, who provided their own random spontaneity in the form of unpredictable weekend plans or an ever-changing work environment that depended solely on which side of the bed Seungkwan woke up on that morning.

Seokmin gets bored easily, an issue he resolves with movie marathons or long walks or hangouts—just about anything will suffice, if it means his mind is occupied and distracted the majority of the time.

Lately, though, a new element has been introduced to his daily life. A routine.

A routine where, during every shift, you stop by after your time studying at the library and pick him up for ‘coffee time’ during his breaks (much to Seungkwan’s disappointment, coffee time was usually during the first half of the day). Then, you’d stay at the coffee shop reading the book—because despite Seokmin insisting that it was okay for you to take home, you’d always refuse—until his shift was over. He’d find you at the bus stop, waiting for him, and the two of you would chatter on until you were dropped off at your stop.

In a way, he had become dependent on this routine—something he thought could never happen. It was admittedly his favorite part of the day, catching up with you, hearing what you had to say or what thoughts you had cultured after your time reading the book. And when you finished that one a few weeks in, he made sure to take some new potted plants and flowers over to Mr. Kim in exchange for another.

And for some time, that’s the way things were. He had contemplated asking to do something with you outside of the usual bus or coffee shop pattern, but everytime he intended to ask, he’d cower and procrastinate. Next time, he’d tell himself.

Early on a Sunday morning, Seungkwan came into the shop rambling about how his Grandma was at his older sister’s house and wouldn’t be coming by. It’s not like the two of them couldn’t handle the shop alone—they had done it countless times before—but her presence was primarily longed for when it came to getting the two of them back on track. Especially on Sundays, where the task at hand was to clean, fertilize, and redecorate wilted displays. For obvious reasons, this was something neither of them enjoyed doing.

At the moment, it’s just him in the store. Seungkwan was taking his morning break that he insisted was non-negotiable today and Seokmin only agreed so easily because Sundays are the only days he doesn’t see you.

The doorbell jingles softly as you step into the flower shop, and Seokmin glances up from behind the counter looking for a customer or Seungkwan, his hands momentarily pausing in their careful arrangement of flowers. A surprised look crosses his face as you poke your head in.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lifting with a bit of surprise, but the smile that quickly forms softens his expression. “I didn’t think you’d stop by today.”

“Actually, I only came by to see Ms. Boo,” you tease, and Seokmin hisses through his teeth.

“I regret to inform you, she’s not in today.”

You grin, stepping further into the shop, the familiar floral scent filling the air around you. “I’m kidding. I was nearby and I thought I’d keep you company for a bit.”

“It’s not usually this quiet around here,” he says, his hands brushing against the flowers almost absently as he talks. “It’s kind of nice when it’s just me, but I guess I don’t mind the company.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s easy to see right through him when he’s so clearly beaming that you're here.

Your presence, standing so casually by the counter, feels like something he didn’t know he was waiting for. He’s used to the steady hum of the shop, the quiet buzz of the day, the mildly irritating sounds of Seungkwan, but with you here... it’s different. He can’t quite pinpoint why, but there’s a feeling in his chest that settles somewhere between contentment and something else he’s been trying to ignore for a while now.

Before he can dwell too much on it, the door jingles again, and Seungkwan strides in, looking as effortless as ever. His eyes dart between you and Seokmin, already catching the shift in the air.

“Why, hello,” Seungkwan says, grinning widely as he crosses the shop and leans against the counter. “I was wondering when we’d be properly introduced.”

“You must be Seungkwan,” you say, arching an eyebrow at Seokmin, who rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

“And you must be Y/N. It seems like I took my break right on time.” Seungkwan continues, throwing an exaggerated glance at Seokmin. “He can’t shut up about you.”

Seokmin groans as he shifts uncomfortably behind the counter. “Seungkwan, please. You don’t have to make it sound so weird.”

You smile at the light teasing, the way Seungkwan’s attention naturally shifts to Seokmin with that familiar comfort only best friends seem to have. It’s clear they’ve known each other for a while. Seokmin, though, is less than amused by Seungkwan. His cheeks glow pink as he glares.

“Well, you are weird,” Seungkwan mutters.

“Alright, Seungkwan,” Seokmin says with a sigh.

“Okay, I’m off to the back to unload fertilizer.” He announces and you give him a polite wave as he turns to you, “It was nice to meet you.”

As Seungkwan heads out the back door, Seokmin lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head. The shop feels quieter, now that it's just you and him. It’s strange, but Seokmin finds himself oddly aware of the space between you two.

He glances over at you again, trying not to seem too obvious, but there’s something about the way you’re standing there—easy, comfortable, but somehow still pulling at him in a way he can’t ignore. His fingers hesitate over the vase in front of him, caught in the motion of arranging flowers but not quite focused on the task.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “I guess you get to work in peace for now, huh?”

“Yeah, it seems that way.” Seokmin huffs. He takes a step toward you, to reach for something behind you. His hand brushes over a batch of roses, then pausing as if he’s suddenly unsure of the next move, painfully aware of how close he’s gotten. He clears his throat, the casual tone of his voice not quite matching the thoughts swirling in his mind. “So, um... you like flowers?”

You tilt your head, a teasing smile on your lips. “Is that a serious question?”

“I-” Seokmin laughs softly, his fingers running over the petals of the flowers before grabbing them and attempting to focus on his station.

You lean a little closer, your voice light but playful. “Well, I like you, don’t I?” The way you say those words with a teasing tone makes Seokmin nearly choke, “So I kind of have to like flowers. Otherwise, how am I meant to hang around you?” You gesture at the shop.

Seokmin’s breath catches, and for a moment, he feels like he’s losing the thread of the conversation.

"I didn’t expect to find you working today. I didn’t even know the shop opened on Sundays," you say casually, glancing up at him. “I’m sure the flowers appreciate the extra attention.”

"I’m pretty good with the flowers, but I think they’d appreciate the company more if you came by more often."

You arch an eyebrow, “Oh? You think they’d enjoy my company more than yours?”

“I know Seungkwan would.” You laugh at this, and Seokmin revels in the sound, joining you.

After a pause, he shifts his attention back to the flowers, showing you the final product. “What do you think?”

“They’re pretty.”

“I think so, too.” He decides, not necessarily talking about the flowers, “Even though I was a little distracted.”

"Distractions can be good, though,"

"Well, you’re a pretty good distraction," he tries for the words to sound casual, but his tone betrays him. He also said it much quicker than he intended to, and he’s grateful for the chance to turn around while grabbing another pot because it offers him a means to hide his reddening cheeks.

You let the words hang in the air for a beat longer than usual, enjoying the teasing, the way it feels easy between you two. "Good to know," you reply, smirking.

Before Seokmin can respond, the door swings open and Seungkwan walks in again, wiping his hands on his apron and immediately launching into his usual dramatic self.

"I swear, I’ll never get used to that fertilizer smell," he complains, tossing his apron on a hook. He looks over at you and Seokmin, "Glad to know you two haven’t burned the place down."

You grin, "Not yet, but we’re working on it."

Seungkwan scoffs half-heartedly, glancing between you. "Nice to see him finally making some friends outside of the plants."

As Seungkwan heads toward the back, he gives you both a knowing look. “Don’t let him get too distracted, alright?” he calls over his shoulder with a grin.

“I’ll try my best.” You give Seokmin a wink and he shakes his head, showing you an idea for another potential bouquet.

The last hour passes seamlessly fast, now that you’re here. Before Seokmin knows it, you, him, and Seungkwan are locking up the store and parting ways from the blonde as the two of you walk side by side to the bus stop.

As he sits beside you on the bus later that night, looking over your shoulder at your collection of tapes for your walkman, he wrestles with the invitation that sits in the forefront of his mind. Spending time with you at the shop was great, but it somehow still feels like it follows your usual pattern. That, and Seungkwan’s presence, albeit lively and entertaining, keeps him from being able to spend as much time as he’d like with you—without the time constriction of a fifteen minute break or a forty minute bus ride. But like always, he decides to ask a different question in place of the one he really wants to.

“How come you use a walkman? I always meant to ask you.”

“I like the way the music sounds on it. I don’t know. It was my dad’s.” You smile warmly, “He used to let me borrow it when I was younger and I just kind of… inherited it.”

“It’s cool. Makes you look all mysterious. Like you’re from a different time.”

“You think?” He nods fervently, but your shoulders still sink in doubt as you fumble with the multicolored tapes. “Everything sounds nicer on it. When you listen to music on it, it’s like a mini time-machine. Or, it might just be me, I don’t know.”

“I’m sure it’s not just you. Here, let me try. Pick one for me.”

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards for a second as you ponder which song to play. Delicately, your fingers brush over each tape, hovering in thought like they had with the books on Mr. Kim’s shelf, until you finally land on one.

“It’s my favorite.” You tell him shyly, “I think you’ll like it.”

Carefully, you pull the cassette out of its case and click it into the audio player with a low snap. Seokmin watches as your hands slip the headset off from around your neck, watching as you shift in your seat and place them gently over his head. He tries not to think about how close your face is to his but… how can he not? You’ve leaned in to ensure that both spongy cushions are perfectly sat over his ears, and now you’re only a few inches away—close enough that he can catch the faint scent of your shampoo. It lingers, soft and floral, wrapping around him like the embrace of something he hadn’t realized he’d miss until you finally sat back, asking “ready?”

You press down on the play button and look up at him, eyes full of expectation.

There’s that familiar, comforting crackle of the cassette winding into motion, a sound that makes Seokmin feel as if he’s in an old-timey dream. And then, the music starts: your song—your favorite song—something you had chosen specifically for him to hear. Every note feels warm, intimate, melodic. For some reason, it temporarily diminishes his burning curiosity about you, but not because he finds himself any less intrigued, but because it finally feels like he’s taken a real peek inside your mind.

As someone who loves music, Seokmin is a firm believer that a person’s favorite song says a lot about them. The more it plays, the more he realizes that this song, in every sense of the word, is an extension of you.

As the melody flows, you watch him, eyes studying his reaction with that same teasing smile. You lean closer again, and he subconsciously holds his breath as you whisper, “Do you hear it?” He nods.

There’s a warmth in it, a rawness that makes it feel like more than just music. This was something deeply yours, a piece of your world that you were letting him in on, if only for a few minutes.

He listens with his eyes closed, letting himself drift along the rhythm, feeling the weight of each tone and key change and lyric the artist sings, full of intention. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds you still looking at him with a kind of question in your gaze, a quiet hope. The song fades out, but Seokmin keeps the headphones on for a second longer, letting the last notes dissolve into silence. He looks up again, meeting your gaze.

For a moment, he’s not sure what to say. Anything he could say feels too small, too plain for what he wants you to understand. So he starts with the only words that come out easily, his voice low and sincere. “I… I think I get it.” He pauses, then adds, “And this song… it feels like you.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, a playful gleam in your eyes. “What do you mean?” you ask, though there’s a softness in your tone, like you’re hoping he’ll really answer.

He glances down at the walkman, watching your thumb tracing along the edge as he gathers his thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s just… this song is so warm. It’s like the way you laugh, the way you make everything feel a little bit lighter.” He feels his cheeks warm but keeps going, his words coming out before he can second-guess them. “It’s like a piece of you, and I can feel it, even with my eyes closed.”

You go still, your expression shifting, the playful smile that played on your lips softening into something more serious. Neither of you say anything for a moment.

The bus begins to slow, and you both glance out the window, realizing this is your stop. You reach up, fingers brushing his ear as you gently pull the headphones from him, careful not to disturb the sense of closeness still hanging in the air. You slide the walkman back into your bag, a little slower than necessary, as if that might make the night last, if just for a few seconds longer.

“This is me,” you say softly, feeling the finality in the words as the bus comes to a gentle stop and the doors sigh open. You start to stand but pause, glancing down at him one last time. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, as if he’s searching for the right thing to say, something more than just “goodbye.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, your voice soft, almost hopeful.

He nods, his smile widening just a little. “Yeah,” he says, gentle but certain. “Tomorrow.” You’re about to turn around when he adds, “but not here. I want to go somewhere else with you. I mean, if you want to, that is.” He finds his breath catching again, “The flower shop closes early on the weekends. I was thinking... Maybe we could go to the beach?”

With a grin playing on your lips, you nod, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Giving him one last glance, you turn and step off the bus, feeling the warmth of his gaze linger behind as you walk down the street. As the bus pulls away, you catch his face framed in the window, waving until you’re out of sight. And though the music has stopped, the tune of this moment plays on, promising something to carry with you both until tomorrow.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The sky stretches out in a hazy blue as Seokmin walks toward the beach, his guitar case slung over his shoulder. His fingers tap a nervous rhythm against its side as he looks around, hoping to spot you before you see him.

He barely slept the night before, having spent the better part of the morning hours contemplating and talking to himself with his guitar on his lap. It hadn’t been touched in nearly a year and a half, so he had to spend some time wiping it down, re-tuning it, and even fixing a string that had managed to come loose in the process.

He said he’d play for you, but then again, he hadn’t played for someone in a while and naturally, that made him extremely nervous, though that feeling didn’t even fully capture what he felt when he remembered he’d be playing for you. What would you think? Did you actually mean it when you said you wanted to hear him play? Or was that some automated response to boost his spirits? Would you even remember? It was weeks ago, on the first day at the coffee shop. Needless to say, he mulled over it endlessly.

Seokmin sighs, trying to calm himself down. By now, he had to slip off his shoes that were sinking in the cool sand, so he chooses to focus on the sensation of it against his skin instead of overthinking any longer.

He finally spots you standing by the water, arms wrapped around yourself as a light breeze blows through your hair. When you turn and see him, your face brightens, and that smile of yours—bright and open—fills him with warmth instantly. “Is that—” you begin, your eyes widening as you notice the guitar.

“Thought it was time,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal despite his heart thundering as he sets the guitar down and dusts off a spot in the sand beside you. You sit next to him eagerly, your excitement spilling out in the way you lean closer, eyes sweeping between him and the guitar case, as if you’re finally being let in on a long-held secret. And, in a way, you are.

He stretches his legs out, digging his heels into the cool sand. He watches you rummage through the tote bag beside you, and a curious smile tugs at his lips.

“You came prepared,” he chuckles, watching as you pull out a couple of neatly wrapped sandwiches and a small container of fruit.

“Of course I did,” you say with a smile, offering him a sandwich and holding out the fruit container. “I figured we’d get hungry eventually.” You shrug, glancing out toward the waves. “Besides, I thought it would be nice to have a little picnic.”

Seokmin accepts the sandwich with a grin, unwrapping it and taking a bite. He’s pleasantly surprised by the fresh crunch of lettuce and the perfect balance of flavors. “Did you make these?” he asks between bites, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, a bit of pride flashing in your eyes. “I did. You think I’d risk buying store-bought for a beach day?”

“Touché,” he laughs, grabbing a few grapes from the fruit container you’ve placed between you. “Honestly, this is already ten times better than what I packed.” He gestures vaguely to a plastic bottle and an uninspired granola bar that now seem almost laughable compared to your carefully prepared spread.

The sun has settled lower in the sky, casting the beach in a soft, golden haze. Seokmin leans back, resting his hands behind him as he glances over at you, a lazy grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The two of you have polished off the sandwiches, and now the empty wrappers lie folded beside the fruit container. He pops one last grape into his mouth, savoring the refreshing sweetness as he watches you tuck the food away with a little, satisfied sigh.

“So, did I earn any points for bringing the snacks?” you tease, dusting a few crumbs from your hands before looking over at him expectantly.

Seokmin laughs, squinting a little in the sunlight as he tilts his head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I’ll give you extra points for the sandwiches. But for the fruit,” he says, grabbing a couple of the last grapes with a mischievous smile, “I think you’ll need to try a little harder.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, leaning back beside him. “You’re just mad you didn’t think to bring anything.”

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing as he looks out at the waves. “But next time, I’ll bring something better.”

“Alright, big shot,” you say with a smirk, crossing your arms. “What’s on the menu then? A charcuterie board?”

“Definitely,” he says, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. “Maybe even some tiny, fancy desserts, the ones that look way too pretty to eat.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to impress someone.” You raise an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air just long enough that Seokmin can’t miss the playful edge in your tone. Not like he could have missed it anyway, with the way he hangs on your every word.

He laughs again, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks. “Hey, I’m just saying I know how to put together a memorable picnic,” he says, attempting a casual shrug. “But, you know, only if you’re there to witness it.”

You grin, unable to help the smile that breaks through at his subtle, almost shy attempt at flirting. “I’d hate to miss such an extravagant spread,” you reply, matching his casual tone with your own. “Guess you’ll have to invite me.”

Seokmin pretends to think it over, tapping his chin. “Hmm, alright, you’re in. But no backing out,” he says, his smile widening. “I’m holding you to this.”

There’s an ease between you, a lightness in the conversation that feels effortless, and for a while, the two of you just sit there, chatting about nothing and everything. He asks you about your favorite places to visit and listens as you share stories about the other hobbies you have. In return, you ask how he met Seungkwan, and he tells you about him and Soonyoung, recounting each memory he has made with them with an enthusiasm that makes you feel like you were right there with him.

Then, as the conversation dips, he glances down at the guitar case beside him. He reaches for it almost absentmindedly, brushing his fingers along the edge of the case, but there’s a faint look of hesitation in his eyes that you don’t miss.

“You don’t have to, even if you brought it all the way out here. It’s up to you.”

Seokmin lets out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he glances away. He’s more grateful for your patience than you could ever know.

“Yeah… I haven’t really played in a while,” he admits, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s been over two years, actually. I brought it… Well, because I think it’s about time I get back into the habit.” He trails off, watching the waves again, his mind flickering to a different time, a different place, one he’s not sure he’s ready to revisit.

There’s a quiet understanding in your eyes as you nod. You don’t press him, don’t ask for more details. Instead, you just let the silence stretch out between you, the sound of the ocean filling the space where words might have gone. It’s almost as if you’re giving him permission to take his time, to decide for himself if this is something he wants to do.

After a moment, he takes a breath, exhaling slowly. “I used to play a lot, actually,” he says, almost to himself. “Just… haven’t felt like it in a while.”

The air feels thick with unspoken things, but Seokmin pushes past it, fingers brushing the guitar case almost impulsively. The weight of the past lingers for a second, but with a quick glance at you, he lets go of the hesitation clinging to him. This is different, he reminds himself. This isn’t for anyone else, no memories he needs to cling to. Just the open beach, the sun dipping low, and you, waiting beside him with a patient, easy smile.

He pulls the guitar from its case, its weight grounding him, though it feels different today than it had last night. It’s less scary, now that he’s with you.

He glances over at you, a grin tugging at his lips. “Ready?” he asks. You nod, your eyes wide, leaning just close enough for him to catch the faint, floral hint of you drifting in the salt-laced air.

Seokmin strums the first couple of notes, letting the music rise and blend with the gentle crash of the waves. His fingers move on instinct, but his mind is all on you, capturing every little reaction—the way your eyes soften, the way your shoulders relax, reassuring him that his music is something you’ve been waiting to hear. He’s suddenly very relieved.

“I wrote this a few years back. It’s… Well, yeah. I think the lyrics speak for themselves.”

It takes a few seconds and one or two badly played chords for him to regain a little bit of the confidence he had lost some time ago. But his fingers find their place quickly enough, and he parts his lips to sing.

As Seokmin's voice fills the space between you, soft and hesitant at first, he notices the subtle shift in your expression. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, brows lifting in quiet surprise as if you hadn’t really expected him to sing so well. There’s a moment of stillness, only filled with his voice, warm and unpolished, floating in the air.

Your gaze flickers to and from him, watching the way his lips move to form each syllable, and then back to the water, where the waves blur in a streak of light. You can’t help but notice the way his face softens when he sings, his features loosening as he melts into the words.

You look back at him, your lips parting in surprise. There’s a shy kind of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth, like you're unsure if it’s okay to smile just yet, but the quiet joy you feel is evident in the warmth that floods your chest. You tilt your head slightly, caught between admiration and a soft, disbelieving smile.

I should’ve told you I’m in love with you

Then I wouldn’t have been regretting right now

The longer you listen, the more the words he’s written seem bound to him, something like an itch he couldn’t reach. You find your lips curving upward again, but there’s a sad sentiment behind your smile this time, eyes full with a kind of quiet affection. Something tugs at your heart just then, causing your brows to furrow slightly. Maybe it’s from the lyrics he wrote, or maybe it’s the simple, unguarded way he sings, you’re not entirely sure.

When he looks up, your gaze meets his, soft and steady. You don’t speak when he finishes. Instead, you reach over, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers as light as the spring breeze.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and in that moment, Seokmin realizes he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

You sit back, letting the sound of the water fill the space between you, the silence stretching just long enough for Seokmin to look out at the horizon, his fingers still idly plucking at the strings of his guitar. His expression has changed slightly, distant, like he's somewhere else for a moment, lost in thought.

You turn toward him, studying his profile. “Why don’t you play anymore?” you ask softly, not wanting to break the calm vulnerability of the moment, but still unable to ignore the quiet curiosity rising inside you. “I mean, you’re really good. Why keep it to yourself?”

He freezes for a second, his mindless strumming halting abruptly. He exhales, the sound almost like a sigh.

“I used to,” he begins to explain. His voice is quiet, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Back when I had someone to play for. It didn’t work out.” He swallows thickly. “She… She had been hooking up with her best friend practically since we got together.”

You wait, letting him speak, but his lips press together for a moment, unsure if he should say more. His gaze turns toward the ocean, but there’s a shift in his eyes, which are normally so kind and full of spirit—something like a hard edge, as if a memory he had thought of has sharpened into something more painful. “I played for her all the time.”

You can’t hide the surprise that flashes in your eyes, and Seokmin glances at you. He doesn’t want pity. He’s not asking for it.

“I stopped playing after that,” he continues, “It just... didn’t feel the same anymore. It was something I gave to someone who didn’t deserve it.” He shrugs, as if the words are too heavy for him to carry all at once.

You can feel the hurt in the air, hanging around him like a shadow. You want to reach out, but you don’t know how to offer comfort without crossing a line, so you just sit still beside him, close enough that he can feel your presence but far enough to give him space.

And at the time, you didn’t know it, but for him, it was enough.

After a long pause, you finally say, “I’m sorry. That’s... that’s a lot.”

He nods, and the tightness in his jaw softens slightly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a little steadier. “But... maybe it’s okay.” Seokmin’s eyes flicker to you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Today felt right, you know. Playing for someone who’s actually listening.”

And in the quiet that follows, he feels something shift between you, the weight of unspoken things starting to lift.

“Seokmin,” you say, your voice gentle, as if careful not to disrupt the quiet peace he’s settled into. He can tell you’re about to say something, maybe offer some comforting words about his story, but he’s already lost in thought.

It hits him, then, so suddenly it almost makes him laugh at himself. The way the late afternoon light catches in your hair, the soft curve of your smile, the way you’re watching him with that steady, thoughtful gaze. It’s all so striking that it feels like something he’s never noticed before, and yet it feels so familiar at the same time.

He decides then, that this is the prettiest you’ve ever looked.

Suddenly convinced you might be able to read his mind, he clears his throat, feeling a warmth creeping up his neck as he looks back down at the guitar, trying to hide the smile that’s fighting its way to his face. He wants to say it—wants to tell you that you look beautiful, that sitting here with you feels like some kind of dream he didn’t know he was allowed to have. But the words don’t come out; they sit, caught in his throat, trapped by the sudden nervousness that’s settled over him.

Instead, he finds himself brushing a hand over the guitar strings again, as if that small action might keep him grounded. “Thanks… for listening,” he manages, hoping it’ll distract from the fact that he can feel his cheeks warming.

You smile, nodding gently, still looking at him in that quiet, understanding way, and it only makes him want to blurt it out more. But for now, he lets the moment stretch, watching as you lean back in the sand, your gaze shifting back to the waves. The sun is sinking lower, and everything is bathed in that soft, warm light that makes the world feel as if it’s been suspended in time. And Seokmin realizes, right then and there, that this is one of those good memories he’ll hold on to; one he doesn’t intend to forget any time soon.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It starts with a simple conversation over coffee, the two of you tucked into a cozy corner booth at the cafe, each with a steaming cup in hand as usual. It has become the norm, seeing you like this, nearly every morning and evening. Seokmin stirs a bit more sugar into his drink despite the crazed look you give him, then glances up at you with a warm, toothy smile as you tell him about your latest read. He leans in, listening intently, nodding as if every word you say is the most fascinating thing he’s heard all week.

When you pause, taking a sip of your drink, he takes a chance to jump in, “You know, I’ve been meaning to go to the art museum downtown. It’s supposed to have this new exhibit.” He hesitates, looking down at his cup for a moment, then back at you with a shy, hopeful glint in his eyes. “If… you’d want to check it out with me?”

You perk up at the suggestion, grinning. “I’d love that! Museums are kind of my weakness.”

Relieved, he chuckles, “Then we’re in good company,” he says, the words coming out a little softer than he intends. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool, but his heart beats a little faster as you chuckle.

“Alright, Mr. Museum,” you say, teasing. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Great,” he replies, glancing out the window at the overcast sky. “How about today, then?”

With a nod, you grab your things, sliding out of the booth as Seokmin hurriedly follows, waving goodbye to Joshua. As you both step out onto the sidewalk, he can’t help the familiar rush of excitement at the thought of spending the rest of the day with you. The two of you stroll side by side down the bustling street, exchanging small talk and the occasional smile, his heart lifting with every step closer to the city.

The walk to the museum is a mixture of laughter, subtle glances, and playful nudges that neither of you can seem to resist. The air is crisp, a light breeze tugging at your sleeves as the two of you meander down the busy street, dodging the occasional cyclist or dog walker. Every few steps, one of you makes a half-serious comment—maybe about the art you’re about to see, maybe about the bizarre mannequin display in a shop window you pass—and it doesn’t take long before both of you dissolve into laughter, your steps momentarily slowed as you lean into each other, trying to catch your breath.

Seokmin, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, finds himself glancing your way more often than he’d like to admit, watching as you tuck your hair behind your ear or lift your face to the sky for a second, enjoying the clouds. He doesn’t know why he feels like a kid right now, heart skipping with each shared smile and laugh, but he can’t seem to shake it. The closeness of walking side by side with you makes him almost giddy.

At one point, you nudge him with your elbow, a light-hearted challenge in your eyes as you try to keep a straight face. “So,” you say, feigning seriousness, “ready to become cultured?”

He rolls his eyes, laughing as he nudges you right back. “Please.”

Seokmin steps into the museum lobby with you by his side, wandering across the high ceilings and polished floors. There’s almost a sacred quietness to the place, the kind that makes every sound seem amplified, even the shuffle of your footsteps.

You hand him a ticket that you get from the booth, brushing his hand lightly, and he tries to hide his smile, hoping you don’t notice the faint flush that blooms in his cheeks. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous; he always is around you, but he never knows why. Somehow today, he’s more nervous than other days. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or maybe it’s just you—standing there beside him, glancing around with the same sort of wide-eyed curiosity that makes him want to see everything through your eyes.

The two of you wander through the galleries, pausing in front of each painting and sculpture, taking your time. Every so often, you glance at him to see his reaction to something particularly strange or fascinating, and catch him already looking back, smiling at your expressions just as much as he is admiring the art.

“Do you think they meant to paint it like this?” you ask, leaning closer to a particularly loud modern piece that’s all bright, chaotic lines. Your voice is soft, as though you’re afraid of disturbing the tranquility.

Seokmin leans closer, squinting as if trying to unravel some secret meaning, though he hasn’t a clue what he’s looking at. “Maybe they were just… feeling inspired,” he replies, lips quirking with a grin he can’t suppress.

“Or maybe they dropped their paintbrush,” you add, matching his grin.

The sound of your laughter echoes slightly in the otherwise silent gallery, and for a moment, he’s aware of how close you’re standing. The space feels smaller, and though there are other visitors around, it feels for a moment like the museum is yours alone. You move on to the next painting, your eyes bright with curiosity, and he follows, longing to shorten the distance once more.

He notices a stray piece of hair that’s slipped from behind your ear, and without thinking, he lifts a hand to tuck it back. But at the last second, he hesitates, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder as he pulls his hand back, a shy red spreading over his complexion. You don’t seem to notice, lost in thought as you step closer to the next painting, tilting your head to take it all in.

At one point, you point out a painting of a starry sky, something dreamlike. “Imagine being under a sky like that,” you murmur, almost to yourself, your gaze soft and wondrous as you look at the canvas.

More and more often throughout the visit to the museum, Seokmin finds himself staring at you instead of the exhibits. On this specific one, he can’t seem to look away from your face, your expression so captivated, as if you’re somewhere far away.

“Maybe one day we can find a place like that,” he says softly, almost not meaning to say it aloud. When you turn to look at him, a bit surprised, he clears his throat, pretending to be suddenly very interested in reading the placard beside the artwork.

Seokmin finds himself feeling almost weightless, caught up in the dizzying whirlwind of his own thoughts for a minute. There’s something about you—something he can’t quite put a name to—that makes him feel like he’s constantly walking on a tightrope, and with each step, he’s leaning a little further in, a step closer to letting go of the balance he’s tried for so long to keep.

You whisper an eager “come on,” and grab his sleeve to drag him further into the maze of galleries.

As you wander into a room filled with ancient statues, he catches you examining one with a particularly serious expression. “Thinking of getting one of these for your place?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Only if you help me carry it,” you reply, and he finds himself grinning again.

Soon, you reach a new room, filled with work from the Renaissance, each painting rich with detail and vibrant colors that have held their vibrancy for centuries. You lean in slightly, admiring the delicate brushstrokes, and Seokmin watches you, his gaze drifting from the artwork to the fascinated look in your eyes—possibly for the hundredth time today.

“I feel like I’m supposed to be having some deep, life-changing revelation right now,” he whispers by your ear, half-joking.

“Who says art has to be that serious? Sometimes, it’s just… pretty.”

You’re just pretty.

As you move through the quiet museum halls together, Seokmin catches himself watching you again, realizing just how pretty you look in the warm glow of the exhibit lights. It’s not the first time he's felt this way; he remembers the flutter in his chest when you’d gone to the beach, and the way his thoughts had lingered a little too long on the curve of your smile. He watches as you lean a bit closer to a painting, eyes narrowing in focus, oblivious to his gaze. There’s a calmness to you here, the way you examine each piece as if it holds a secret, and he finds himself drawn to the little things: the way your fingers rest on your chin in thought, the faint lift of your brows when something catches your eye, and the gentle concentration in your expression.

He watches you for longer this time, taking advantage of the fact that you’ve busied yourself reading a plaque, and noticing things he hadn’t paid attention to before right now: today, your smiles linger a little longer, your laughter rings out just a bit brighter, and he finds himself captivated by these subtleties, like he's uncovering new pieces of you with each glance. When you look at him, eyes crinkling in a way he hadn’t dared imagine was just for him, his heart stirs, and he can’t shake the thought: Have you always been this lovely, or am I just starting to see it now?

His mind drifts, painting scenes of possibilities—fleeting, half-formed images of laughter, of late nights talking, of small moments shared just between the two of you. Each image feels almost real, so vivid he can practically reach out and touch it.

There’s a spark in his chest, a sensation that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Part of him wants to pull back, to reel himself in, a quiet warning in the back of his mind whispering not to get carried away like he had before. But he can’t help it; there’s something magnetic about this, about you, something that pulls him closer despite himself.

He steals another glance at you, his heart racing as he does. You’re just looking at the art around you, as though this is any other day, but for him, it feels monumental. His thoughts get lost again, imagining what it might be like to hold your hand right now, to simply be beside you without any of this hesitation.

And then, you look at him and laugh, catching him staring, and his ears go red, a little embarrassed but somehow happy to be caught.

By the time you reach the last hall of artwork, the sun has started to set outside, casting a warm glow through the large windows. Seokmin watches as the light catches in your eyes, making them shine in a way that leaves him a little breathless. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you look around.

As you both step outside into the cool evening air, he catches your eye, intentionally this time, his smile small but genuine. “Thanks for coming here with me,” he says, his voice soft, almost shy.

“Anytime,” you reply, and the word feels like a promise.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The night starts with laughter and neon lights as Seokmin leads you through the bustling street to the karaoke room, his two friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, trailing just behind and rambling on about something indiscernible. The place is lively, bursting with music from rooms down the hall, each one echoing snippets of songs and off-key shouts.

Seokmin can’t help but beam when he sees how easily you fall into conversation with his friends, joining in their jokes and even taking a dig at Seungkwan when he hypes himself up as the “true vocal talent” of the group. Having heard Seokmin sing just a few weeks back, you couldn’t help but feel defensive on his behalf.

Once everyone’s settled, drinks start flowing freely. The first few songs are cautious, each of you easing into the familiar, buzzing rhythm of karaoke night. But as the night goes on, any sense of shyness melts away in the glow of pulsing lights and laughter.

Seokmin watches with undeniable fondness as you and Seungkwan bicker over song selections, and he tries not to grin too widely when he catches you belting out the lyrics with Soonyoung during a duet.

At some point, he notices how naturally you fit with his friends—the way you make Seungkwan laugh with a remark about his questionable song choices, or how you nod along enthusiastically as Soonyoung gives a dramatic toast, proclaiming you as “one of them now.” For Seokmin, it’s everything he hadn’t realized he wanted: his closest friends getting along with you.

As the night hums along, Seokmin picks up the microphone, sending you a lopsided, slightly tipsy smile that makes your heart flutter before selecting a song. His choice surprises you—it’s one of those classic ballads that’s probably too high for anyone but the original singer to sing. The melody starts slow, and his voice flows soft and easy, but with a control that reminds you just how talented he really is. You practically feel your admiration soar, and as you watch him, his hazy, glossed over eyes settle on you.

Every so often, he adds a bit of exaggerated flair, trying to coax a laugh out of you, playfully stretching out the notes or adding dramatic hand gestures to match the lyrics. It’s impossible not to smile, and you feel yourself relax as his antics draw you in. The song suddenly feels a little less serious, a little more fun, as he throws in a wink here, a knowing grin there.

As he finishes, you clap, unable to hide your smile. "You know," you say, a little breathless, "it’s honestly unfair that you’re this good."

He laughs, cheeks pink from both the praise and the drinks. “What can I say? Talent just comes naturally,” he jokes, a little bolder, that playful gleam returning to his eyes. Then he looks at you, his expression softening. “How about we do one together?”

“Oh no,” you protest with a laugh, shaking your head, “I can’t follow that.”

“Come on,” he coaxes, handing you a microphone and grabbing you by your hand to pull you to your feet, “I’ll sing the verses, you can handle the chorus. It'll be easy.”

With a mix of reluctance and excitement, both of which mix together with the alcohol in your system, you take the mic, scrolling through songs until you settle on something you both know—The music starts, and the two of you exchange a grin before starting.

At first, you both sing a little awkwardly, tipsy laughter interrupting every other line as you stumble over the lyrics and try not to trip over each other’s parts. But as the song goes on, you find a rhythm, and every so often, Seokmin leans into the mic to harmonize with you, his voice blending with yours. By the end, you’re both laughing, the microphones forgotten as you clutch your sides and stumble around, out of breath and giddy.

Seokmin looks at you, eyes bright, face flushed, smile so wide that you could count his teeth if you wanted to. He reaches out, touching your hand ever so lightly, his fingers warm and steady. “You did amazing,” he says, voice soft, his smile a little shy despite everything.

“Likewise,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you that’s more than just the drinks. And as you both sit there, you realize that there’s other people in the room.

Before you even have time to catch your breath, Soonyoung jumps up, grabbing the microphone. “Move over!” he declares with a grin, completely ignoring the indignant look Seungkwan shoots at him as he stands up to join him. “It’s duet time for real now.”

Seungkwan, rolling his eyes, snatches the other mic and leans in with a smirk. “Prepare yourselves. You two are about to be outshined.” He cues up a song with exaggerated flair, and the upbeat tune starts, loud and impossible to take seriously as they start belting the opening lines completely off-time.

“They’re usually better than this,” Seokmin tells you, “especially Seungkwan. I think it’s the alcohol.”

You laugh as you watch the pair start to coordinate with each other, finally managing to sing to the beat of the song.

“It’s good!” You argue, “Are you all just super talented?”

Seungkwan’s voice suddenly cuts through, loudly. “Hey! I can’t hear myself over you two!” He shoots you both a look, his mock glare breaking into a grin as Soonyoung pulls him back to belt out the chorus.

Seokmin shakes his head, laughing as he leans in closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “I warned you about them, didn’t I?” he says, his voice soft, he’s close enough that you feel his breath beside you, gaze lingering as he speaks. He’s a little past the point of tipsy, cheeks and nose slightly flushed, but somehow the hazy glow of the karaoke lights makes him look even softer, easier to smile at.

You giggle, feeling a little light-headed yourself, but whether it’s from the drinks or the warmth radiating between the two of you, you’re not entirely sure. Your eyes subconsciously bat at him as they trace his features, tugging at his heartstrings as Soonyoung and Seungkwan sing with wild abandon in the background.

Seokmin’s arm rests casually on the back of the booth behind you. “You know,” he murmurs, leaning just a bit closer, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The words are simple, but somehow they send a warmth spreading through you, making the whole room seem to slow down. “Me too,” you say, a little shy but meeting his gaze, feeling that same unspoken something settle around you.

Then, somewhere between another toast and Soonyoung’s next drink, things start to get a little fuzzy for him. Soonyoung has, predictably, taken things a bit too far, eyes glazed as he sways to the music, occasionally belting out lyrics that don’t match the song on screen. Seungkwan sighs knowingly, standing and giving Seokmin a helpless shrug. “I’m taking him home before he tries to start chugging Soju.” He nods at you, adding with a smirk, “Good luck with this one.” And then, with a wave, they’re gone, leaving the two of you in the dimly lit room, half-empty drinks scattered on the table.

Alone with you now, Seokmin’s pulse races, the soft glow of tipsiness making him feel both bold and nervous. The room feels quieter, somehow more intimate, with just the two of you here. He reaches for the remote, scrolling through song choices, trying to keep his eyes on the screen and not on the way you’re leaning back on the couch, your gaze drifting over to him with a glint he can’t quite decipher.

“Do you want to pick the last one?” he asks, his voice a little more shy than he intended.

You smile, shrugging casually, but he doesn’t miss the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Only if you promise not to laugh if I butcher it.”

He grins, feeling his own face warm. “I make no promises,” he teases. But there’s something in his gaze—a hint of anticipation that he can’t quite hide, even if he tries.

As you start singing, he watches, captivated by the way you let loose, tipsy confidence making you bolder. The words are a little off-key, your voice rising and falling with the tempo, but to him, it’s perfect. When you’re finished, he can’t help but clap, cheering as if he’s at a concert.

“You sounded amazing,” he says, his voice softer than the playful bravado he’d intended. He feels a little too exposed under your gaze, a little too aware of just how close you’re sitting.

“Thank you, thank you,” you reply with an exaggerated bow, but your eyes linger on his a little longer than they should, and the tension between you feels thick, heavy with possibility.

He clears his throat, laughing nervously. “You’re going to put me out of a job with that voice.” But his words sound almost sincere.

There’s a lull in the conversation, a quiet beat where neither of you says anything, just looking at each other, the warmth of the drinks and the moment settling over both of you. You move a little closer, your knee brushing against his, and Seokmin swears he feels his heart stutter.

“Seokmin,” you say, voice barely a whisper, eyes bright with that boldness that only alcohol can provide.

“Yeah?” His voice comes out breathier than he intended, and he has to resist the urge to reach for your hand.

You smile, almost shyly, but there’s a warmth in your gaze that reassures him. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had… a really great time.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours. His hand, almost on instinct, drifts a little closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your knuckles.

As you step out of the karaoke bar, the cool night air feels refreshing, and Seokmin falls into an easy rhythm beside you. The streets are quiet, the lights soft and glowing, casting a warm hue on everything around you. He insists on walking you home, and you can see a bit of that familiar determination in his expression—a mix of sweetness and subtle nerves, the kind that makes him even harder not to smile at.

The two of you talk softly as you walk, laughter spilling into the night as you recount moments from earlier, but the conversation drifts into a quiet calm. Seokmin feels a little tipsy, though he knows it’s not solely the drinks making him feel this way. It’s the warmth in your laugh, the way your gaze lights up when you look at him. Everything feels a little brighter, softer, like the world’s colors are blurring into a hazy glow.

Eventually, you pause, looking over at the buildings below the hill you’ve climbed, and above them, the faint sparkle of stars cutting through the city’s glow. Seokmin stops beside you, following your gaze, but when he looks back down, it’s not the skyline he’s mesmerized by. It’s you, standing there with that quiet, contemplative look in your eyes.

At that moment, he’s overwhelmed. Something about this night, this moment, feels like a dream—one he’s afraid might slip away if he blinks too long. He wants to say something, to tell you how lovely you look standing there, bathed in city lights. He can feel his heart pounding. He’s been trying to find the right words for some time now, something that could capture the feeling building up in his chest when he’s with you. He’s not sure if it’s the night, the laughter still echoing in his mind, or just the way you’re looking up at the sky. Before he can overthink himself out of it, he takes a breath and speaks, his voice just a little unsteady. “You know… you look beautiful right now.”

It’s the first time he’s said something so openly to you, and he can feel his cheeks heat up the second the words are out. You turn to him, a bit taken aback, your eyes wide with surprise before a smile slowly spreads across your face, soft and a little shy.

The moment stretches between you, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with laughter or play it off. He’s content just looking at you, watching that glow in your eyes as his words settle in.

A soft laugh escapes you, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down for a second before glancing back up at him. “I was going to say the same about you.”

He can’t help but laugh, his own nervousness melting away a little. You both stand there, caught in the gentle pull between you, feeling a little bolder, a little lighter.

When you start walking again, his hand brushes against yours, and this time he doesn’t pull away, letting his fingers linger close enough that if you reached out, they’d intertwine. It’s a simple gesture, but it says everything he’s been holding back, and as you walk together through the quiet streets, he knows something has shifted.

The stone path thuds beneath your footsteps, clumsy and unsteady as you both navigate the uneven terrain, sharing quiet laughter over your shared lack of coordination. Seokmin, glancing down, suddenly stops.

"Look!" he says, his finger pointing at a small penny on the ground, glinting faintly in the light. “What’s this doing all the way out here? Take it. For good luck.”

You shake your head, amused, and explain, “It’s only good luck if it’s face up when you find it.”

“Ah.” Seokmin considers this, then immediately drops into a crouch, carefully flipping the coin over so Lincoln’s head is proudly facing the sky. He straightens up with a grin as if he’s just accomplished something important.

“What’d you do that for?” you ask, your tone laced with affection.

“Now someone else can have good luck,” he replies.

You feel something warm tug at you in response, watching him as he stands there, content with his small gesture of kindness. Suddenly, you see very clearly the kind of person Lee Seokmin is. It’s so like him—turning even the smallest, most mundane thing into something significant. As he begins walking ahead, you linger just a moment, looking back at the coin on the ground, then up at him.

You don’t move to follow him. Seokmin halts, slightly startled, his gaze questioning as he glances at you. But before he can ask why, you step closer, closing the space between you. You’re both quiet, caught in a bubble of giddy anticipation, his eyes searching yours, wide with surprise. And then, without a word, you reach up, resting a hand lightly on his chest, and lean in.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like everything else falls away, replaced by a feeling that’s as soft as it is electric. He lets out a small, breathless laugh amidst his shock, hands stuck to his sides as your mouth presses to his.

When you pull back, you find him grinning, a little dazed, his eyes bright with surprise. Then he closes the space again, meeting your lips in another kiss, quick but more eager, like he’s savoring the feeling.

And then another. His hand drifts to your waist, drawing you in just a little closer each time your lips meet, each kiss growing a little bolder, a little sweeter, until the space between you disappears entirely. By the fourth kiss, his fingers have settled at the small of your back, warm and sure, and this time he lingers, letting the kiss deepen. It’s slow, unhurried, something unknown flooding through him as he feels your hand slide up to cup his cheek, tilting his face toward you so you can taste his mouth with ease.

You both feel a little unsteady, leaning into each other for balance, your hands anchoring each other as the world spins quietly around you. His heart races, thrumming against yours, and there’s a shy smile on his face when he finally pulls away, keeping his forehead close to yours, his eyes searching yours, dazed and happy and overcome with affection.

“I… I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice a little unsteady but full of quiet excitement.

“I wasn’t planning it,” you admit, your cheeks flushed, but you don’t pull away, savoring the closeness.

For a moment, you both just stand there, eyes locked, breaths mingling in the cool night air, as if tethered to each other by an invisible string. Then, without thinking, you lean back in, your lips finding his once more. This time, there's no hesitation, no pause, just a shared need to be close—as close as possible. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you in with a touch that’s both careful and desperate, as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

He lets out a quiet laugh against your lips, a sound that’s soft and breathless. It makes you laugh too, and you pull back for a moment, catching your breath, only to find his lips chasing after yours again. There’s something almost frantic in the way you keep returning to each other, like you’re both overwhelmed by the discovery of this closeness, unable to let it end just yet.

His hand moves gently to the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way he’s holding onto you.

His voice is barely a whisper, warm and a little breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His words, shy and sincere, only pull you closer. Hand in hand, you start walking, the quiet night around you filled only by the soft sounds of your steps. He keeps his grip loose, fingers intertwined with yours, thumb brushing along the side of your hand as if he can’t bear to let go ever again. You walk in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering touches, both of you stealing glances, unable to stop smiling.

Every so often, he pauses, as if some thread is tugging him back to you. He leans in to press a brief kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw, reeling over the way your eyes flutter closed from the feeling, and before you know it, his lips are back on yours. You laugh against his mouth, feeling both light-headed and grounded in a way that’s wholly new and otherworldly. He pulls back with a grin, his eyes crinkling, looking both bashful and thrilled, like he can’t believe this is real. You’re unreal, you have to be. A fabrication of his imagination, so delicate, so perfect, so you.

As you continue walking, his arm slips around your shoulders, drawing you closer to his side. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and the quiet contentment that settles over you feels as natural as breathing. When he stumbles slightly, you catch him, and he grins sheepishly, pulling you close again in a half-hug that turns into yet another kiss.

“I might never get home at this point,” You say breathlessly.

“Would that be so bad?” Each word is mumbled into your mouth as his fingers weave into your hair, holding the back of your neck and letting his tongue shyly lick your bottom lip.

The hum that you let out, either as a response to his rhetorical question or his tongue now moving against yours, makes his head spin. Your nails, raking down his chest over the material of his shirt, your hips pressing to his—it’s all too much and at the same time, not enough.

The closer you get to your doorstep, the slower your steps become, as if prolonging the walk will somehow stretch this night just a little further. Every so often, Seokmin pulls you close, and you laugh as he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, each one deeper and more unhurried than the last.

Neither of you speak, as if words would break the fragile spell cast over the night. Instead, you stand there, wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft, dizzying kisses that grow lazier, more lingering.

There’s a pause, a beat of hesitation, as he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes warm and soft, and he murmurs, “I should probably let you go.” But even as he says it, his hand remains on your cheek as if he’s not quite ready to leave.

“Probably,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his, but neither of you moves. It takes a moment, maybe two, before he reluctantly lets out a quiet laugh and pulls away, his hand slipping from your cheek to squeeze your hand, holding onto you just a moment longer. He gives you one last look, filled with a warmth and tenderness that leaves you breathless.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asks softly, already a few steps down the hall, as though he’s hoping for just one more promise to look forward to.

“Soon,” you reply, his gaze lingering on you as he walks away. You watch him go, the warmth of his kisses still lingering, the last few moments of the night settling over you as you turn to head inside, feeling light, tipsy, and wonderfully, utterly alive.

[click here to continue]

197 notes · View notes

stariekis · 10 months ago

Text

birthday boy.

pairing : non idol!jungwon + fem!reader . genre : fluff + suggestive . cw : kissing . wc : 2.9 k not proofread

— synopsis : celebrating his birthday with the people he loves the most ! with a tiny twist ...

— note : HAPPY WONI DAY!!! my brightest star ⭐🤲🏻 i love him so much pls he is everything to me ˙◠˙ hope he has an amazing day today and hope you guys like this one shot <3

He was having the most awful day ever. Even though it was his birthday he had to spend the whole day at the company alone and, on top of that, you and his members haven't talked to him for the whole day.

He wasn't really upset about his group mates but he felt pretty sad when he realized that you didn't texted him.

He didn't want nothing more than to come back home and spend some time for himself, being able to enjoy his 20 birthday and rest after such a tiring and kind of sad day was all he needed.

He finished all his duties at the company and finally it was time to go back home. Tiredness taking over his body as soon as he step on the van, almost falling asleep as soon as he sat on his seat.

Once he finally reached the entrance of his (and your) apartment he let out the biggest sigh, he needs to take a shower and lay on his bed as soon as possible.

But as he inserted his key to open the door he heard someone whispering inside os his apartment. He was confused, all the members where at their respective houses and you probably were sleeping. Or that's what he thought.

Finally opening the door completely he was shock when he made eye contact with the seven of you, his bearest best friends and his pretty girlfriend standing in front of him with balloons and a cake on your hands.

— 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG BOY' shouted jake as jungwon dropped his belongings on the entrance and take off his shoes. Heeseung took the cake out of your hands as he watches Jungwon running towards you with his arms open.

You giggled as he hugged you, hiding his face on your neck leaving small soft kisses there.

— 'The surprise was also our idea you know?' said Sunghoon with a smirk on his face. All of you burst out laughing, Jungwon removed himself from your embrace pecking your lips before turning to his friends, giving them a big hug.

All of you moved to your living room to get the party started. After blowing the candles you gave him your present, he loves matching things with you so you gave him a pair of rings; one was a sun and the other one was a moon. He looked at you with the biggest smile on his face and, taking your hand, he place the sun one on your finger kissing your hand right after.

The hours kept passing and, after opening all the presents and having dinner together you guys decided to call it a night and the boys went back home.

As soon as you close the door you felt a pair of arms sneaking around you waist, hugging you from behind. — 'Thank you so much for this baby, i was having the worst day ever but its was completely worth it' Jungwon whispered in your ear.

You turned around now facing him, placing you hands around his neck you gave him a kiss. — 'Sorry for ignoring you Wonie, i was really busy preparing all of this that i didn't have time to text you' you said. He place one of his hand on your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

— 'You still have time to repay me for that ' the tone of his voice dropped a few times and now there was a smirk adorning his pretty lips.

You smiled, knowing perfectly what he meant with that. As much as you loved the boys you couldn't wait for them to be gone so you would be able to spend some time with your boyfriend. — 'Now that you mentioned it i actually have another present for you' you kissed him, this time the kiss was much intense that the other ones you shared, hearing him breathing through his nose and melting in your arms as soon as your lips touched his.

Your hands that once were around his neck were now grabbing the strings of his grey hoodie. You separate yourself from him and, pulling him by his collar, you started walking towards your shared bedroom.

Let's say he had the best birthday of his life.

583 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 7 months ago

Text

cake crumbles

pairing: non-idol!woozi x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au. some slight comfort.

warnings: anxious jihoon who just wants everything to go well. proposal mentions. food.

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: he :( <3

“Okay. We can fix this. It’s not too late.”

The only things holding Jihoon together right now was both Soonyoung and Vernon’s presence right now. But he hadn’t stopped staring at where your birthday cake had been dropped onto the floor, smashed into a mess of blue and white icing. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to clean up the mess in Soonyoung’s apartment. Soonyoung was on his knees now, tossing it into a bag to be disposed of properly once it was all done. It had all happened too quickly. One minute he’d been moving it to a different space on the counter, and the next he’d been lying on the floor, body aching from his slip, and the cake was destroyed. The little party he’d planned was hours away, and he’d ordered this cake specifically for you…

“I think grocery stores do plain buttercream cakes,” Vernon said, fingers covered in blue as he dropped another chunk of cake into the trash. “It’s not as special, but we can get them to write her name on it.”

“She likes those cakes,” Soonyoung nodded. “That’s what we did for my birthday last year.”

Right, but those weren’t made for you. Jihoon had gone out of his way to slowly figure out what you’d love the most. He sighed, and moved to get paper towels to wet and clean up the remaining icing. “I don’t know. I wanted to get her something special…”

Vernon looked up. “It’s just her birthday. I know she’s special, but—”

Immediately, Soonyoung started to smack his arm. He shook his head, and Vernon slowly connected the dots.

“Oh.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Dude—Today?”

Jihoon quietly nodded, then stopped. “I mean—Not technically?” He sighed, leaning back. “I was going to ask her when we went home. It’ll be after midnight, so it’d be tomorrow, and—”

Vernon nodded. “Alright. Look,” he pushed himself off the floor. “I know some people. Maybe one of ‘em could help do us a favor.”

Something inside of him seemed to crumple like tissue paper at how easily Vernon seemed to take charge right now. That should be what he was doing. You were his girlfriend, his love, and yet he couldn’t seem to drag himself out of the spiralling thoughts that he’d fucked this all up. He knew what you would say now, though: that it was fine. That you didn’t need a birthday cake to be happy. But today needed to be perfect for you. You treated him with so much kindness, always so gentle but clear with how much you loved him. Jihoon wasn’t always the loudest with how much he loved the people in his life, but he hoped that his love was clear, too. This was supposed to be part of his big gesture, the thing that screamed to the skyline that he loved you wholeheartedly. The other part was the box still tucked away in his pants pocket, even now. He carried it with him most days, just in case he ever felt the inclination to forego his plans…

Maybe he should have. Then he wouldn’t be so stressed right now making sure everything went right.

Vernon had already stepped away, calling someone to see what they could do on such short notice. Soonyoung, on the other hand, had helped him wipe up the remaining icing. The floor needed to be mopped soon anyway, and then the scene of the crime would be entirely taken care of. By the time it was all taken care of, Vernon already had a name and a place to go—which led to Soonyoung pushing Jihoon toward him, saying he could handle setting up the rest.

He’d described as basic a cake as he could: vanilla, decorated with buttercream in blue and white, with maybe some flowers on it if the baker could swing it. All it needed to say was ‘Happy birthday’ and your name. The easiest thing that they could make, he would accept as long as it tasted good. With the order placed and a time given to pick it up, Jihoon stepped back out onto the street with Vernon at his heels.

“So…” He’d soon fallen into step beside him. “It’s not just about the cake, is it?”

Jihoon slowly nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. Anything to look more casual instead of the nervous storm he was inside. “If I don’t make it right… Then I’m going to feel like I failed her.”

“You could literally show up with just a thing of Oreos and she’ll love you.” Vernon looked over. “It’s fine to be nervous, but I don’t think there’s anything you could do that could upset her.”

“I know, but…”

Vernon bumped into him, just to get his attention back on him. “You two love each other a lot, dude. It’s gonna be alright.”

Jihoon could only hope that it would be.

Hours passed quicker than Jihoon expected them to. He and Vernon had returned to Soonyoung’s apartment and helped him set up for your little birthday party. Seungcheol had thankfully agreed to drive the cake over, careful as he could be, while Jihoon had to return home to you. He’d fed you this plan to go out for a movie and then dinner, hand hovering over his pocket. The box was right there. Maybe it’d be better for him to leave it somewhere safe here, but he felt better carrying it on him.

“Jihoony?” You had turned from where you were putting on an earring—one of the ones he bought you last year for Christmas. There’s a playful lift to your voice, smiling at him. “Everything okay?”

He nodded, making his way over to you. “Everything’s perfect,” he said. Yet the pit in his stomach didn’t seem to shrink at all. He had hoped that saying it aloud would do something, and yet…

You fastened the earring into place, and then reached forward to cup his face. “Jihoony.” You let out a long sigh. “I know.”

“You… know?”

“One,” you said, “Cheol accidentally let the party secret slip when I asked him if he wanted to join us for dinner. And two…” You shut your eyes for a moment. “Remember the other week when you came home exhausted from work? You changed, ate dinner, and then went straight to bed…”

Oh no. Oh no. He swore he had tucked the ring box into his bag after he drove home. “So, you…”

With a soft kiss against his lips, you leaned back. Your chapstick tasted like birthday cake, all too fitting for today. “Whenever you ask, I’m going to say yes.”

Jihoon met your eyes. “Even if it’s tonight?”

“Maybe wait until we’re alone,” you said, as if he hadn’t always planned for that. “But yes,” you giggled. “Tonight included.”

Jihoon reached for your hands, taking them into his own. The words already started to pour out of him before he could even think twice, “I dropped your birthday cake earlier. We got a replacement, but it isn’t the one I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.”

Instead of saying anything else, all you did was step back as you laughed. He’d fallen in love with your laugh long ago, but hearing it now he swore he was falling in love with the sound all over again. When you faced him again, you were smiling harder than before, even more radiant this time.

“As long as I get to enjoy it with you,” you said, “I’m going to be happy.”

All at once, his anxieties disappeared. He leaned in, lips brushing against yours for just a few seconds. He knew he would kiss you properly once the two of you were home again. But for now, he’d leave you with something fleeting, just to leave both of you wanting more. “Happy birthday,” he said for the second time today, hands resting at your waist. “I love you so much.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #woozi x you #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #woozi reader insert #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon x you #wooahaes.24

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yothangie · 6 months ago

Text

Missing their kids event

HJver. SH ver. YH ver. YS ver. SN ver. MG ver. WY ver. JH ver.

pairing: Dad!Hongjoong x 6 year old daughter ft. Fem! mom reader

wrd count: 597

genre: dad!ateez, angst with fluff at the end,

Warnings: crying, idol hongjoong, school

Ateez dad masterlist join the taglist

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He’s been working so hard for the group's comeback, for a few days he hasn’t been home and that puts a worry on your 6 year old daughter. The school was giving out student of the month awards and your child was picked from her class.

You had told Hongjoong in advance so he can have that day off for his daughter, he was sure to have it cleared, but as the comeback was near he hasn’t been home lately or been calling you.

“Mama are you sure appa is coming” your daughter says

“ I’m sure he will go sit down with your other classmates”

The ceremony has started but no Hongjoong, you tried texting and calling but no response.

You decided to message his fellow members to see if hongjoong is still alive, unfortunately they also didn’t answer.

As your daughter's name was called you can see her looking in your direction, her smile dropping when she sees her dad not present.

She went back to her seat looking down, a single tear slipped from her cheek.

When the ceremony was over she went walking to your seat slipping her head in your lap.

“He didn’t come” she sniffled.

“Its okay my love he's probably busy”

“Can we go home now” she asked

You took the certificate from her and carried her back to the car.

You were hoping hongjoong would be home by then but as expected the house was empty.

“Mama can i nap” your daughter asked

“Of course lets get you changed first.”

After changing your daughter and tucking her in you decided to start dinner early.

As you were cooking you heard the door unlocked, you knew who it was.

Hongjoong came into the kitchen and went behind you resting his head on your shoulder.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek only for you to pull away

“You really messed up today” you looked at him

“ i know im sorry-”

“Don’t apologize to me, it wasn't me who you let down”

He got the hint and with that he went into your daughter’s room who was asleep with dried tears.

He gently stroked the girl's head, feeling guilty he had let his little girl down.

“Angel wake up” he whispered

The girl stirred in her sleep turning her back to him.

He ended up shaking her just a little bit hoping she would wake up

She slowly started to wake up looking around locking eyes with her dad

She let out a pout turning her back to him again

“Angel are you mad at me”

“Yes” she sniffled

“Im sorry, I was at work-”

“You’re always working”

He sighs picking her up sitting her on his lap wiping the tears that were starting to spill

“Please don’t be mad Angel”

“You promised”

“I know please forgive me, I took the week off so i can spend time with you” he says

“Its not the same” she pouted

“I know Angel, why don’t you show me your award” Hongjoong sets her daughter down as she goes to her little desk grabbing the piece of paper.

Hongjoong grabs smiling as he reads his daughters name printed on the certificate

“I'm proud of you my Angel” he patted the girls hair

“I got you a little cake to celebrate want to go eat it” he asked

The girl quickly nodded, Hongjoong scooped up the girl in his arms giving her kisses on the cheek, carrying her downstairs.

“I promise from now on any award you receive i will be there in the front row”

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Taglist: @reooreo @starhwahwa @nnnarchives @enbymingi @nvdhrzn @strawberry-cube @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @soso59love-blog @alexwritesfics @pai-fe @kkumiikumii @blackb3ll @marvelfanatic4life

#ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateezhongjoong #ateezdad #dad ateez #dadteez

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woozvc · 1 year ago

Text

strawberry cake

h.js

based on this request (+ a few changes)

synopsis — maybe your obsession with strawberries is getting out of hand but joshua dropping the last piece of your favorite strawberry cake makes your anger justified

pairing — joshua x gn!reader

genre/s — smau, non idol au, reader is kind of a menace but it's okay, hoshi likes chaos

warnings — joshua calls reader babe? idk lmk if I miss anything!

a/n — changed it a bit from joshua paying for the cake to him making it bc I really wanted to use that picture of seungcheol 😭 anyways I would love to know your opinions on this!

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smau #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt joshua #joshua hong #joshua seventeen #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #joshua #joshua x reader #joshua x y/n #joshua x you #—nr.requests

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byhees · 1 year ago

Text

calling them ‘bro’ trend.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames — more

a/n. requested and scheduled— plagiarism notice

heeseung would do an instant double-take, his head snapping towards you; starts to question his own hearing abilities, because there’s virtually no way you just called him that— bro? bro?? is what would go through his mind; “baby. not bro”, he’d sound out, leaning forward to close the space between your faces, his body towering over yours— there’s a little pout on his lips, and it’s undeniable that his brows are lightly furrowed in adorable insistence…

jay would not mind too much, thinking that it’s just a little slip-up; but when those three letters fall from your lips once more, he’s sure that you’re playing with him; “love, did you just.. call me ‘bro’?” and when you tilt your head to the side, gawking at him with faux confusion, he swears that he’s mirroring you; would pepper you with kisses afterwards, mumbling cute petnames in between each one— “babe. i’m your babe, okay?” he’d say, lightly sulking in the process…

jake would gawk at you in disbelief; “bro. bro?? do ‘bro’s do this, hmm?” he’d start, leaning close to press a long kiss on the swell of your cheek; and when he hears you reply with “i don’t know, bro”, he leans forward, closing the proximity to plant a kiss on your lips; “i’m not your bro, i’m your boyfriend”, he’d continue, a playful tint shining in his narrowed eyes; won’t hesitate to pepper you with as many kisses as possible— as long as you know he’s, one-hundred percent, not your bro…

sunghoon would gape at you, because how in the world did ‘baby’ become ‘bro’?; honestly ponders if he’s done anything to upset you— “did i.. do anything wrong? you can tell me if i did, love”, and he’s just looking up at you with his pretty pair of glistening eyes; and of course, to make up for it, you shower him with tons and tons of kisses; “baby. baby. baby— that’s my name..! well, it’s actually sunghoon… but that’s not the point..!”, he’d mumble, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide his reddened cheeks…

sunoo would look offended beyond belief; even the mere recollection of that nickname has him shivering— he’s your… bro? definitely one to get all sulky and pouty; his arms would be crossed over his chest, and his head would be whipped to the side; refuses to speak another word until the familiar petname, ‘love’, falls from your lips; “that’s much better. i’m your love, your boyfriend, your lover”, he’d say, tugging you close for a hug, his little frown still lingering on the corners of his mouth…

jungwon would unknowingly ignore you, because you never, ever, call him ‘bro’; “bro, why aren’t you responding back?” he’d hear you say, a finger of yours tapping on his shoulder— and then, it hits him; his eyes would widen in an instant, lips parted in mortification. “s-sorry, could you repeat that?”, he’d ask, and when the word falls from your lips once more, his hand is flying up to slap over his agape mouth; “i knew jake was a bad influence..! it’s ‘love’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘baby’, anything but bro”, he’d say, emphasising the last word; would pepper your face with kisses, just as a little reminder that he is, in fact, not your ‘bro’…

riki would play along with you, adding the nickname in his response; “what do you wanna eat, bro?” he’d hear you ask, and he’d reply with a short, “i don’t know, bro”; instead of throwing him off guard, you’re the one fumbling because did he really just reverse-bro you? would be so petty about it; uses it throughout the day, often times pouting a tad whilst doing so; drops the nonchalance the moment you shower him with kisses and hugs, a sulky frown tugging on his lips— “‘bro’ is such a bad nickname. i’ll take.. i don’t know… ‘baby cakes’, or even ‘sweet cheeks’..! over that, any day”, is what he’d mumble; would probably sulk over said petnames the following day…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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nevernonline · 8 days ago

Text

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 08; old wounds. (written)

✧.* synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

paring: seungcheol x fem! reader.

feat: non-idol! svt, nct mark&jaehyun, other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes.

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

tag list - open

word count: 5.5k

masterlist ▸ 07. shaken up not stirred ▸ 09. are we really doing this?

The cool night air nipped at Y/N's skin as she strolled briskly down the dimly lit street. It was far too quiet for comfort, but Y/N tried to shake the nerves prickling at the back of their neck. Her phone buzzed furiously in her hand as the group chat lit up like fireworks.

"y/n where’d u go??" It was Hoshi, always the anxious one. Y/N grinned to themselves, typing back a quick reply. "I thought you guys left?? omg i'm walking rn?? LMAO"

Not even a second later, another notification came through, this time from Yuqi: "we told you we’d be outside when you went pee??? wtf."

Y/N rolled her eyes, her thumbs flying across the screen. "LMAO im not alone, plus im fully sober rn so im okay!!"

A dramatic gasp emoji popped up from Yuqi, followed by: "i saw you take a shot? also not alone? 👀👀👀"

Y/N chuckled, thinking back to the single shot she’d taken hours ago at the party. One shot, one drink. That didn’t count, right? She glanced up briefly, spotting the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Mingyu walking beside her. He towered like a protective shadow, his face illuminated faintly by the pale moonlight.

"You're quiet," Y/N teased, nudging him. "Are you plotting something, or just sad your phone died?"

Mingyu groaned dramatically. "Sad. Definitely sad. I feel cut off from the world, Y/N."

Y/N snorted as she tapped out another message to the group chat. "okay one shot at 8pm and it’s now almost midnight, so pretty much. also im w/ mingyu and wonwoo if you guys were even remotely concerned about him. his phone died but he said he’s sad."

Yuqi’s response came almost immediately: "Mingyu is like an over 6 foot beef cake he’s okay??"

Y/N burst out laughing, Mingyu glancing down at her with a puzzled look.

"What?" he asked, leaning in to peek at the screen.

"Nothing," Y/N said quickly, shoving the phone back into their pocket. "Just our friends roasting you. Again."

By the time Y/N and Mingyu made it back to the house, the rest of the group had already gathered in Hoshi’s room, sprawled across the mismatched blankets and cushions. Hoshi looked up immediately, relief washing over his face.

"Finally," he said with a smirk. "We were about to send a search party."

Y/N rolled their eyes. "I had bodyguards, okay? Mingyu and Wonwoo had me covered."

Mingyu chimed in from the other side of the room. "Why Hoshi’s room, though? This place looks like a tornado hit it."

"He literally offered to help me clean it yesterday. Now he’s just being a dick." Hoshi fired back, crossing his arms.

As the room filled with laughter and banter, Y/N’s phone buzzed again—this time a private message from Chaewon: "y/n y/n y/n on the shuttle!! I saw your friends, where are you?!!"

Y/N quickly typed back, "just got to the house rn. we grabbed you some food for when you come 🫡"

Moments later, a reply came: "omg shut the fuck up ily. also wait so… some tea."

Y/N’s heart raced at the sudden change in tone. She leaned against the doorframe, typing back cautiously. "oop ✋ spill."

Chaewon’s next messages came rapid-fire: "well im behind seungcheol and seungkwan on this bus rn. and they’re not talking out loud but i can see them texting each other. and did you know seungcheol has a crush on you?"

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her pulse thundering in their ears. She stared at the screen, her friends’ laughter fading into the background.

"Y/N?" Mingyu’s voice broke through their thoughts. "What’s up?"

Y/N quickly locked her phone, plastering a grin on their face. "Nothing! Just… tea. You know how it is."

But inside, y/n’s thoughts spiraled. Seungcheol? A crush? On her? No fucking way

The night wasn’t supposed to spiral into chaos. Y/N had planned to stick with her friends, sip on vodka, and head home to her cozy ass bed. But now, surrounded by laughter, whispers, and more drama than a reality show, things were unraveling faster than they could process.

The moment they read Chaewon’s message, her world tilted.

"Seungcheol has a crush on you."

The words replayed in her mind like a broken record, even as she shoved the phone into her pocket, desperately trying to act normal. Chaewon didn’t elaborate, of course. She always left the juiciest details hanging, probably cackling on the shuttle right now.

"Y/N, you’re zoning out." Wonwoo’s voice brought her back to the room. His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp—he noticed everything.

"I’m fine," Y/N lied, forcing a smile.

"Fine doesn’t look like that," Mingyu said, plopping down on the couch beside her. He nudged her shoulders with his. "Spill. What’s got you looking like you saw a ghost?"

"Nothing. Seriously, I just need to catch a second wind. Can’t we just go downstairs and drink and shit now? Come on." Y/N said, a little too quickly.

Before anyone could press further, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped in. The room went silent for half a second before someone shouted, "VERNON?"

Y/N whipped her head around. Sure enough, there was Vernon—hands stuffed in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool yet slightly awkward as he took in the chaos of Hoshi’s room.

"Hey," he said casually, his gaze flickering to Y/N almost instinctively.

"You came!" Y/N blurted out, standing up before she had even realized it.

"Guess I did," Vernon said with a small smile. "Figured it was about time."

The room erupted into cheers and jeers, the group immediately teasing him for finally showing up to a party. Mingyu pulled him into a one-armed hug, ruffling his hair like an annoying older brother.

"Look at you, Mr. Social Butterfly," Mingyu teased. "Did Y/N guilt-trip you into this?"

Vernon’s ears turned pink, but he shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see what all the hype was about."

Y/N felt their cheeks heat up but quickly changed the subject. "Alright, leave him alone. Vernon’s here to have fun, not be interrogated."

"Fun? Here?" Vernon smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shoved him lightly, the playful banter putting them both at ease—at least for the moment.

As the night wore on, the group split into smaller clusters. Mingyu and Wonwoo disappeared to the kitchen to grab snacks, Yuqi and Hoshi were locked in a heated debate about whose room was messier.

That left Y/N and Vernon sitting on the porch steps, the cool air buzzing with unspoken words. The lit end of a joint sitting between them.

"You good?" Vernon asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Y/N said automatically, but Vernon wasn’t buying it.

"You’re a terrible liar," he said, leaning back on his elbows. His voice was soft, teasing, but there was an edge of concern.

Y/N sighed, debating whether to spill everything. But Vernon had this way of making her feel safe—like she could tell him anything, and he’d never judge.

"Okay, fine," Y/N admitted. "Chaewon may or may not have just told me that… someone has a crush on me. But, it’s not someone I really.. Uh, enjoy to put it sort of lightly."

Vernon’s expression didn’t change much, but Y/N noticed the way his fingers twitched slightly against the step.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice calm. "And how do you feel about that?"

Y/N hesitated. "I don’t know. It’s Seungcheol."

This time, Vernon’s poker face faltered. His lips parted slightly, and his gaze dropped to the ground.

"Seungcheol," he repeated, his tone unreadable.

"Yeah," Y/N said, suddenly feeling awkward. "I mean… I didn’t even know he thought about me like that. To be honest I can’t understand why he’d ever, like we always hated each other. It’s fucking dumb."

Vernon was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke. "Have you ever thought about him like that?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I mean… no? Definitely not anymore, maybe for a brief moment in time when I was in highschool, but."

"But?" Vernon pressed gently, looking at them now, his eyes searching y/n’s as he inhaled the flower.

"But…" Y/N trailed off, feeling her heart pick up speed. The words hung heavy in the air, unspoken but crystal clear.

"You’re too nice to everyone, you know," Vernon said suddenly, his voice quieter now. "Sometimes I wonder if you realize how many people look at you and wish they were the one you noticed. So I get it. But, you also don’t owe him anything especially with what went down the first time."

Y/N’s breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in.

"Vernon…"

"I’m not saying this to mess with you," he continued, his gaze steady. "I’m just telling you the truth."

Y/N felt like the ground had been ripped out from under them. Vernon’s calm, collected demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

"I…" Y/N started, but their voice faltered.

"It’s okay," Vernon said quickly, standing up before she could respond. "I just needed to say it. You don’t have to say anything back. Chaewon is coming straight for us and you guys should talk, I’ll find you inside, okay? I expect you to make it worth my time out of my room later.”

“You got it. But you don’t have to leave.”

Before Y/N could stop him, Vernon handed her the rest of the joint, gave her a small kiss on top of her head and walked back into the house, leaving her alone on the porch with their thoughts.

Y/N stared at the lit joint in her hand, Vernon's words replaying in her mind like a haunting melody. The faint sound of laughter and music from inside the house drifted through the open door, grounding y/n just enough to notice Chaewon stepping onto the porch.

She wasn’t alone, of course—Chaewon was never truly alone. She had an effortless way of carrying an aura of confidence that turned heads. But tonight, her sharp gaze was focused entirely on Y/N.

"Are you hiding out here, or did Vernon leave you for some deep, weird, emotional soul-searching?" Chaewon asked, sliding onto the step beside her without waiting for an invitation. She reached for the joint in Y/N's hand, taking a drag as if it were hers to begin with.

"Both, maybe?" Y/N muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Chaewon blew out a puff of smoke, raising an eyebrow. "Both? Interesting. Spill it, bitch. I can tell you’re on the way to spiraling."

Y/N groaned, tilting her head back to look at the stars. "You’re literally part of the reason I’m spiraling."

"Me?" Chaewon gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "What did I do?"

"You told me about Seungcheol," Y/N hissed, sitting up straight to glare at her. "And now my brain won’t shut up about it."

Chaewon shrugged, looking entirely unbothered. "I just thought you deserved to know. Not my fault if you’re overthinking it. Also, I cannot sit on a juicy secret like that for too long."

"Of course I’m overthinking it." Y/N laughed. "It’s Seungcheol. You know how much history we have. And not the good kind."

"Exactly," Chaewon said "Which is why I figured you’d want to know. Better to hear it from me than to have him confess out of nowhere, right? Or someone else finding out, as if Seungkwan hasn’t run the college gossip page before."

Y/N sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "What ever happened to that? I mean not the point right now I guess. But still it’s just weird. Like, why now? And why me?"

Chaewon smirked. "Have you ever considered that maybe he was pretending not to know you so you can start fresh with him because he likes you? Men can be dumb asses like that."

"Chaewon," Y/N groaned, burying their face in their hands.

"Okay, okay," Chaewon said, laughing softly. "Let’s backtrack. Do you like him? At all? Like, are you willing to try to be his friend or co-exist or whatever?"

"No," Y/N said firmly. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, they added, "I mean, I used to. A long time ago. But that was before all the shit happened."

Chaewon nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. So what’s the problem, then? Just let him down easy and move on. You’re not obligated to feel the same way."

"It’s not that simple," Y/N muttered.

"Why not?" Chaewon pressed.

Y/N hesitated, her thoughts swirling. "Because.."

"Ah. Wait– I see." Chaewon’s eyes lit up with understanding. She leaned back, a sly grin spreading across her face. "So that’s what’s really going on."

"Don’t," Y/N warned, but Chaewon was already on a roll.

"Vernon comes out to a party for the first time in forever, and suddenly you’re out here sharing a joint and having heart-to-hearts. Sounds pretty romantic if you ask me."

"It’s not like that," Y/N said firmly, but even she didn’t sound convinced.

"Sure it’s not," Chaewon said, rolling her eyes. "Listen, Y/N. You’re my friend, so I’m going to give it to you straight. You’ve spent so much time worrying about everyone else’s feelings—Seungcheol’s, Vernon’s, whoever’s—that you’re forgetting to think about your own. So what do you want?"

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come.

Chaewon took one last drag from the joint before stubbing it out on the porch step. "Figure it out, my baby girl. Because if you don’t, someone’s going to get hurt. And it’s probably going to be you."

With that, she stood up, smoothing out her skirt and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, and one more thing," she added, glancing back at Y/N. "You’re a fucking catch and if you don’t see that by now, you’re even denser than I thought."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could respond, Chaewon grabbed her hand pulling her back inside and distract her with the party.

The night didn’t end on the porch for Y/N. By the time she re-entered the house after her conversation with Chaewon, the energy of her day had shifted into something more chaotic but liberating. The dim lighting and thumping bass created a atmosphere that wrapped Y/N in its haze, making her forget her issues even just momentarily

Mingyu was now on the coffee table, dancing without a care, and Yuqi had somehow coerced Hoshi into an impromptu dance-off. Wonwoo, seated on the couch, shook his head at them, nursing a drink with a quiet grin.

“Y/N! Finally!” Yuqi shouted over the music when she spotted her, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the middle of the room. “You’ve been moping for too long. Time to drink.”

“I wasn’t moping—” Y/N began to protest, but Yuqi cut her off by twirling her into a spin.

“Yes, you were, you little lying whore. But not anymore.”

As the music shifted to an upbeat track, Y/N decided to let go, her earlier tension melting into the rhythm. She danced, laughing with Yuqi, dodging Mingyu’s wild arm movements, and matching Hoshi’s exaggerated moves just to get a rise out of him.

Chaewon appeared by her side, her hair slightly disheveled but her grin wide. “See? Told you this party would be good for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah. You’re always right, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you forget it,” Chaewon quipped, raising her cup in a mock toast.

As the song changed again, Vernon emerged from the kitchen with a red solo cup in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. He didn’t join them at first but leaned casually against the wall, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her laugh and dance.

“Are you going to stand there looking mysterious, or are you going to stop being a little bitch and join us?” Y/N called out to him, her breathless voice cutting through the music.

Vernon chuckled but shook his head. “Na, I love being a little bitch.”

“Oh, come on.” Yuqi chimed in, grabbing his wrist and attempting to pull him into the middle of their circle. “You can’t just stand there looking cool. It’s fucking illegal.”

Vernon resisted for a moment before reluctantly stepping forward. “People do assume I’m a bad boy, officer.” he said dryly.

The group cheered as Vernon finally joined in, his movements understated but in perfect sync with the beat. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone, which somehow made him even more magnetic. Y/N caught herself watching him a little too closely.

At some point, Mingyu decided it was time for shots and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray of tiny glasses. “One for everyone.” he declared.

Y/N hesitated, but Chaewon nudged her. “Just one. Come on.”

With an eye roll, Y/N accepted the glass, clinking it against Chaewon’s before downing the liquid. It burned on the way down, but the warmth that spread through her chest was worth it.

The night blurred after that, a mix of laughter, terrible karaoke when Yuqi found a microphone, and group photos that would undoubtedly resurface in their group chat the next day. At one point, Y/N found herself sitting on the floor, her back against the couch, as Chaewon rested her head on her shoulder.

“You look lighter,” Chaewon said quietly, her voice cutting through the noise.

“Maybe I am,” Y/N admitted, glancing around the room. “I think I needed this.”

Chaewon smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. “You’re welcome.”

As the night stretched into the early hours, the group gradually began to disperse, some collapsing into makeshift beds while others lingered to talk. Y/N found herself sitting by Vernon again, this time in the living room, the noise of the party replaced by a comfortable silence.

“Told you I’d see you later,” Vernon said softly, nudging her shoulder with his.

Y/N smiled, resting her head against the couch. “I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Me too,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

“How has everything been? Med School finally getting the baddies down?”

Vernon just laughed and nodded his head, before he could get another word out Seungcheol entered the room and stopped in his tracks redirecting his attention from his phone to Y/n and Vernon sitting together, Hoshi sleeping on their feet like a small dog.

“Hey guys.” Seungcheol called out quietly, creeping over, trying to not disturb Hoshi as he walked passed and sat on the couch to Vernons side.

“Hey.” The pair just mumbled at the same time, now noticing the awkward shift in the energy.

Vernon stood up and turned his head to y/n, ignoring the other boy's presence. “I’m going to carry this one to his room, you good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure to come back.” Y/n giggled knowing Vernon wouldn’t leave her hanging for too long.

“Don’t miss me too much.” As Vernon hoisted a half-asleep Hoshi into his arms, he shot Y/N a wink before making his way out of the room, leaving her and Seungcheol alone. The air seemed to grow heavier the moment the door clicked shut, the silence now sharp and charged.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the couch, suddenly hyper-aware of Seungcheol sitting just a foot away. He leaned back against the cushions, his hands clasped together as he stared at the coffee table.

"So..." Seungcheol started, his voice tentative, breaking the uneasy silence. "You and Vernon seem close."

Y/N glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "We’ve been friends for a really long time, yeah. Why?"

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No reason, I guess."

Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she let the comment hang in the air.

Seungcheol hesitated, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, I know this is awkward. I wasn’t trying to interrupt anything."

"You didn’t," Y/N said quickly, though her tone was clipped

“So you guys aren’t da—”

“No. Just two old friends.” Y/n gave him a smile just out of politeness trying to not lead on too much that she had an extreme desire to not be around him.

“How did you guys meet?”

Y/N knew the answer didn’t need much thought, but the weight of the conversation—and what it might lead to—hung heavily in her chest. She forced a smile, her fingers idly picking at the hem of her sleeve. "It was forever ago. Our moms were childhood friends. Vernon and I practically grew up together."

"Ah," Seungcheol said with a slow nod. "That explains it. You guys have that effortless thing. Like you’ve known each other forever."

There was something about the way he said it—soft, almost wistful—that made Y/N narrow her eyes. She didn’t like where this was going. "Yeah, I guess we do, but you knew that didn’t you? Why are you pretending to not know me? To manipulate me to make my life hell again? What?" she said, her tone neutral.

Seungcheol leaned back against the couch, studying her. "I don’t remember you mentioning him much back in high school."

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Maybe because every time I tried, I’d get interrupted by someone making my life hell?"

The jab landed hard, judging by the way Seungcheol flinched. His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out.

"Sorry, but you know it's true." Y/N said quickly, though her tone was anything but apologetic.

"No, you’re right," Seungcheol admitted, his voice quieter now. "I deserve that."

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable. Part of her wanted to push further, to let him feel even a fraction of the frustration and hurt she’d bottled up for years. But another part of her—the part that was sick of carrying that weight—wanted to let it go.

"Why do you care so much about Vernon, anyway?" she asked suddenly, her voice sharper than she intended.

Seungcheol seemed taken aback by the question. He hesitated for a moment before answering. "I don’t. Not like that. I guess I just wanted to know more about the people you let in."

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. "Why does it matter to you who I let in?"

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then he let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Because I used to be one of those people," he said quietly.

Y/N froze, his words hitting her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he’d never really been "in." But the truth was more complicated than that, and she hated it.

"You were one of those people," she said finally, her voice steady but cold. "And then you weren’t. That’s on you."

“Look,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically unsure. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch. “Everything?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, his voice quieter now. “High school. What my friends did to you. What I did to you. It was—”

“Cruel,” Y/N interrupted, their tone sharper than she intended. “You humiliated me, Seungcheol. You and your friends took something personal, something I trusted you with, and ruined my fucking life for a long time.”

Seungcheol winced, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know. And I’ve been carrying that guilt with me for years.”

Y/N laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’ve been carrying guilt? Try carrying the humiliation of walking into school and having everyone know something you didn’t want them to. Of being laughed at, whispered about, avoided. You think your guilt compares to that?”

“I’m not saying it does,” Seungcheol said quickly, his voice desperate. “I just… I need you to know that I regret it. I regret all of it. And if I could take it back, I would.”

Y/N stared at him, her chest tightening with the weight of old memories. Memories of tear-streaked nights and the sting of betrayal.

“What do you want from me, Seungcheol?” she asked finally, her voice low. “Do you want me to forgive you? To say it’s all water under the bridge?”

He looked up at them then, his expression raw. “I just want you to know I’m sorry. That I’ve changed. That I never meant to hurt you the way I did.”

Y/N felt her defenses waiver, but the anger bubbling beneath the surface was hard to ignore. "You can regret it all you want," she said finally, her voice steady. "But that doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t change who you were back then. People say they change, but they often don’t. You don’t just get to say you’re sorry and expect everything to be okay.”

“I’m not expecting that,” Seungcheol said softly. “I just… I needed you to hear it. Even if it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

There was a long silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Finally, Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair.

Seungcheol's gaze dropped to the floor. "I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. And I’ve spent years regretting it."

"Regret doesn’t fix anything," Y/N shot back.

"I’m not trying to fix it," he said, looking up at her now, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. Desperation? Guilt? "I just don't want you to think I didn’t care. Because I did. I do."

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of his words pressing down on Y/N’s chest. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if there was anything to say.

"You had a funny way of showing it," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I was an idiot," Seungcheol admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "I cared too much about what other people thought. I let them get in my head, and I let you down. I’ll never stop regretting that."

Y/N stared at him, her emotions warring inside her. She wanted to believe him, to let his apology wash away the years of hurt. But she couldn’t ignore the voice in her head reminding her of all the times he hadn’t stood up for her, hadn’t been there when she needed him most.

"I wish I could go back and do things differently."

Y/N looked away, her throat tight. "Well, you can’t. And honestly, I’m not sure it would make a difference even if you could."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Y/N stood abruptly, needing to put some distance between them.

"I’m going to check on my friends," she said, avoiding Seungcheol’s gaze.

He stood too, his movements hesitant. "Y/N..."

She turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. "What?"

"I’m sorry," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N didn’t respond. She just turned and walked out of the room, leaving Seungcheol alone.

The hallway was quieter now, most of the partygoers either gone or passed out in various corners of the house. She made her way towards Hoshi’s room where Vernon had carried him to earlier, her steps quick and purposeful, as though walking faster might help her shake off the weight of the conversation with Seungcheol.

When she reached the door, it was slightly open, and she could hear Vernon’s low voice murmuring something. She pushed it open gently and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking Hoshi under a blanket. Hoshi was completely out cold, sprawled across the mattress like a starfish.

"Hey," Vernon said softly, glancing up at her as she stepped inside. His voice was calm, but his eyes scanned her face, picking up on the lingering tension she hadn’t quite hidden. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded automatically but then hesitated. She let out a shaky breath, leaning against the doorframe. "Seungcheol," she said simply, her tone carrying all the weight of what had just happened.

Vernon frowned slightly, standing up and walking toward her. "What did he say?"

She crossed her arms, her gaze dropping to the floor. "He tried to apologize. Again. Said he regretted everything. But I don’t know… It’s just—he doesn’t get to do that, you know? He doesn’t get to say sorry and expect it to fix everything."

Vernon nodded, his expression serious as he leaned against the wall beside her. "You’re right. He doesn’t."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his face for something—validation, reassurance, anything to help her make sense of the storm in her head. "But a part of me… I don’t know, Vern. A part of me feels like maybe I should just let it go. For me, not for him."

He tilted his head, considering her words. "Letting it go doesn’t mean forgiving him or forgetting what happened. It just means you’re not carrying it around anymore."

"Yeah, but how do I do that?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. "How do I let it go when it’s just… there? Like this permanent scar."

Vernon reached out, his hand brushing lightly against her arm. "You don’t have to do it all at once," he said gently. "It’s not about pretending it didn’t hurt or that it wasn’t real. It’s about giving yourself permission to move forward, at your own pace."

His words were like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her emotions. She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. "When did you get so wise?"

He grinned, the warmth in his smile instantly making her feel lighter. "Med school, obviously. They teach you all kinds of emotional shit there."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. "Right. Emotional bandages 101."

"Exactly," he said, his tone playful but his eyes still soft and steady on hers.

For a moment, they just stood there, the quiet hum of Hoshi's snoring wrapping around them like a cocoon. Y/N felt the tension in her chest begin to ease, replaced by a comforting sense of safety.

"Come on," Vernon said suddenly, straightening up and taking her hand. "Let’s go."

She blinked, caught off guard. "What? Where?"

"Anywhere," he said with a shrug. "The backyard, the porch, I don’t care. You need a breather, and honestly, so do I. Plus, I think Hoshi might start snoring louder any second now, and I’m not ready for that."

Y/N laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness she’d been carrying all night. "Alright. He’s lucky he’s cute."

They slipped out of the room quietly, making their way to the back porch. The cool night air hit her skin like a refreshing wave, and she breathed deeply, letting it fill her lungs. Vernon let go of her hand but stayed close, leaning against the railing as they looked out at the quiet yard.

"You always know how to make things feel less complicated," Y/N said after a moment, her voice soft.

"That’s because they’re not as complicated as you think," Vernon replied, his tone light but sincere.

She glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not," he admitted. "But you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just be here. With me. Right now."

Y/N nodded, the tension in her shoulders melting away as she leaned against him as he enveloped her in his arms. The stars above them shimmered faintly, and for the first time that night, she felt like she could breathe again.

As the silence stretched between them, comfortable and unspoken, she realized just how grateful she was for her friends—for their steady presence, the unwavering support, and the way they always seemed to know exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t.

note: hi. omg. I really did drop the ball on posting this for a hot second, but we will be back to our regularly scheduled programming from now on <3

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes@headlockimnida@odxrilove@jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis@hanniesdegree @blvkkeddcc@gyuguys @rakshithanotrao @multiplumes

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pianostarinwonderland · 1 month ago

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skully who r u [fae skully + a ramble on his possible background]

we have less than a day before we get the ending for this event and IM. NOT READY. im not ready to hear about how skully is a person from the past (and we're thinking 200 years or so), nor am i ready to go back to twst to hear that he's dead in our time and he's really the founder of modern halloween that nrc celebrates

... that's assuming he's human tho

and fortunately or unfortunately, there's hints that twst has been dropping that leads us to think otherwise

firstly: ears WHERE

in his live2D, you dont get to see his ears At All. not even a hint of an ear lobe. we know twst to be very detailed and deliberate with their designs so why did they choose to hide his ears

in his illustration, u can see a hint of an earlobe, but it's still very much covered

and as we know, when we look at malleus and lilia ears, we Know that they have pointy ears marking their pure fae ancestry. soooo skully..????? 🤨 fae skully real?????

i partly market the fae skully agenda bc PLS. WHAT IF... MEET . . .. .. IN OUR TIME. .. .. .. .... . PLS... . ... . .. . ..... 🥺 WE SEE HIM ALIVE BUT A LIL OLDER AND WAUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH pls i cant handle this yall

secondly: there is still that part in Episode 1-4 of skully saying to us "moshi... ne, moshi" instead of "moshimoshi", and a lot of ppl shared that the belief of supernatural beings not being able to address someone more than once is at play here. which would at least indicate to us that skully is at least not ur regular human being. and that is one thing about skully that we Can be sure about

on what skully may be, myonmyon put out a thread about how skully may be at least inspired by the Fear Gorta, a fae whose folklore was created from the irish famine. it's characterized by a skeletal appearance who wears tatters and rags. it can be benevolent or malevolent, but if u treat it kindly, it will bestow good blessings upon you. Fear Gorta also refers to Hungry Grass, which, if one steps on a cursed patch of grass (which i assume the fae created), they will always be hungry, no matter how much they eat, and will eventually die from starvation

ok why the irish famine? myonmyon and a few other theorists on twitter have speculated on skully possibly being inspired by (or maybe even being the twst equivalent of) the irish immigrants who moved to america, and from there, the tradition of halloween spread, resulting in the modern halloween that we know of today. it makes sense too given skully's character of spreading halloween to his fellow peers, who don't know what halloween is

oh but i don't mean to end this post here, no not yet. because there's a really interesting thread that i also found by Y_wwwsomething about how skully even got his viewpoint of halloween. i do like this thread because they kinda argue against skully's halloween being based on samhain, which a lot of people initially thought that that was his halloween. but samhain, even if it does have its scary side, is still a festival with feasting and noise, still very unlike skully's halloween. if anything, they suggested that the briar valley halloween is much closer to samhain.

my personal conclusion was that skully's halloween is based on all hallow's eve, and he's from a catholic family who celebrates halloween in a solemn manner. however, this thread is suggesting that skully idolizes the victorian british gentlemen and consequently the victorian halloween

let's look into the victorian halloween first. we note that the victorian halloween that was celebrated was often done by the upper class. several online sources will tell you that their halloween parties is, funnily enough, purposed for matchmaking. many halloween games involved girls looking into their futures, whether it's eating apples at midnight while looking at the mirror or looking at whatever object is in their apple or cake to see if they'll marry or die alone. halloween for them is less focused on fright and more on lover's passion.

however! their halloween parties are also dramatic in that they turn off the lights and only leave candles on, and when they greet guests, it's either by putting their own hand on the guest's shoulder or a glove filled with sawdust.

so we could have a situation here where skully, just like jack with christmas, may have observed one (1) party and misunderstood the victorian halloween, taking from it only the scary aspect and mixing it with any prior beliefs he may have had. it doesn't yet explain why he spent halloween alone, and tbh the catholic halloween celebration alone is already a near exact match of skully's definition of halloween, so im not very on board with this. could be that they are also loose enough to be festive? but im not sure

but im very interested about skully's possible reverence for the british gentlemen, which inspired his love for jack skellington! in the victorian era, they were defined by their birth (so if they were born to aristocratic parents), but men could also make themselves into gentlemen by growing their wealth and influence. some men have occupations that are respected enough to call them gentlemen (i.e. army members, members of the parliament). eventually the definition of a gentleman is one who received education from certain elite universities, but this is towards the end of the victorian era, so when trying to become a gentleman back then, it was much harder. so of course men tried to climb to become gentlemen. charles dickens actually wished to be recognized as a gentleman and so he wrote about it in great expectations.

and this is what interests me: during the irish famine, it's noted that british rule still stood on ireland, and if anything, the british elite even worsened the irish famine as they controlled trade between them. irish goods were exported out to britain and other countries while the people had nearly nothing, which either killed them off or pushed them to migrate. interestingly, british penal laws had it that irish catholics especially were suppressed—among their laws included that their land and home were confiscated by the british parliamentary officials in ireland

so what am i trying to get at here? it's that there's probably a nonzero chance that skully looked up to the gentlemen of britain... or if we're thinking in twst terms, the gentlemen of the queendom of roses. and this may be influenced by whatever was going on in his hometown, whether it's something akin to the irish famine and colonization or something else. a desire to be free? a desire to be more than what he is right now? it would very much be similar to sally and jack: sally, in how she wanted to be free from dr. finkelstein's controlling parenting, and jack in how he wanted to not just be the pumpkin king and tried to take over christmas. it also sort of mirrors leona's and jamil's desires for themselves too, how they want to be free to do the things they want to do and make an impact around them

what's even yummier is considering that if skully is a fae, or at least a nonhuman creature that has a distinctive ear shape, then he might take shame in his fae nature as he may perceive that the ideal gentleman is a human, which is similar to how sebek takes shame in his human nature. hence, his ears would be covered by his hair in order to hide this and mingle among the gentlemen.

anyway. idk how i went from "skully is a fae" to "skully is probably an irish catholic suppressed by the british colonial rule and wants to social climb hence he looks up to the ideal british gentleman, sees jack skellington in that image, and aims to be like that so that he can make something out of himself" but we ball ig

anyway, im cooked for tomorrow, im not ready yall :(

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst jp #skully j graves #twst theory #im cooking yall I SWEAR #I SPENT 4 HOURS RESEARCHING ABOUT THE HISTORY OF IRISH FAMINE AND BRITISH RULE AND VICTORIAN HALLOWEEN #NOW I AM AWARE OF CHARLES DICKENS' GREAT EXPECTATIONS AND WHY HE WROTE IT #IM SUPPOSED TO BE RESEARCHING OTHER THINGS NOT VICTORIAN GENTRY #anyway WHY DID I PUT EFFORT INTO THIS THE BACKSTORY'S PROBS GONNA BE LIKE “my parents were too controlling boohoo :((”#im normal guys i swear im normal about skully #(me when i lie)

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mariabtsos · 19 days ago

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I'll Be There ||k.sj||

Description: your family may have forgotten your birthday, but goddammit Jin refuses to let it ruin your day.

Genre: Short drabble, idol!Jin x f!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, found family, fluff.

Warnings: feeling of being an afterthought, feeling of being forgotten

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: It was my birthday yesterday :)

There was absolutely no way right? I mean they'd been talking to you all day, they even called you yesterday and talked about how your birthday was today.

You should've known, the first red flag should've been that your own sisters forgot your birthday and how old you were turning. This had never really happened to you before, they had always been so good about your birthday just like you always were about theirs, so why was this year different? You had moved to Korea a long time ago, over 10 years ago actually, and even your extended family back home had messaged you and made sure you felt loved today of all days. At least, even if the worst were to happen, you still had Jin.

You'd met Jin, ironically, on the same bus he'd been scouted out for BigHit's audition, and you'd been together ever since. Your relationship had had its fair share of obstacles, trials and tribulations, but you were happy together, and he made sure that you were. When Jin enlisted, just like he had with ARMY, he'd prepared little videos and notes for you to open during the times you couldn't see each other. Those typical letters that said open when you're sad, open when you miss me, and so on.

When he came back he made damn sure that you were the first person he'd spend his time off with after he was done with all his schedules, because Jin was a workaholic, even if he'd never admit it, and he couldn't stand being out first and not seeing his fans right away. You had front row seats to his event, letting the hug be just for ARMY as you knew they'd missed him, and after it was all done, you came home to your shared apartment and shared beautiful moments together whilst he was off.

Today, he'd planned an entire day for you, which basically consisted of mostly chilling together like you both loved doing, taking you out to your favorite restaurant and then singing happy birthday along with your family, even if it was over FaceTime since they'd moved away from Seoul to Busan few years back when your parents got better jobs.

“Alright mom, I'll talk to you guys when we get back!” You said enthusiastically toward your phone as you spoke to the older woman, Jin had a smile on his face as you walked toward him after hanging up.

“Ready my love?” He asked as he grabbed onto your waist and you placed your hands on his chest.

“Yes,” you gave him a quick peck and a smile.

Jin had arranged for Yoongi to drop off the cake he'd had made for you whilst you were out. He took you to a small hole in the wall restaurant you guys had found after you'd moved to this part of Seoul, the food was great and you always loved how they gave you the perfect fries to burger ratio.

“Have I done good so far, my love?” He asked after he pulled a chair out for you to sit.

“You've done great Jinnie, you always have,” you smiled softly.

“I promise next year when everything isn't crazy and full of comebacks we'll go to your parents' for your birthday,” he reached for your hand on top of the table, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, “or we can fly them out here!” He suggested.

You hoped Jin understood how much everything he did for you today, and everyday, meant to you; he'd always had that knack for making you feel loved in the most thoughtful ways, even in the most silly ways too! Just like his dad jokes he had the cheesiest pick up lines, and they always cheered you up when you were having a bad day. You remembered a few years back, when you were giving yourself a really hard time at work and you came home upset, he'd said all kinds of ridiculous things in every language you both knew. It was safe to say, you were laughing hysterically after some time.

This time, however, Jin worried that might not be enough. When you came home for dinner you were so happy to see your favorite cake waiting for you on the kitchen island along with two cards, one from Jin and one from the rest of the guys, which had all but adopted you into their little family soon after Jin introduced you to them all those years ago, it was very touching to see it and to read it.

“I'm going to call my mom so they can sing happy birthday with us!” You said excitedly as you pulled out your phone. This had been a tradition ever since they'd moved away from Seoul, because had you been back home they would've thrown you a little party…at least you hoped so. Ever since they'd moved away you'd felt a little alienated, you were often the last to know about things that you wouldn't usually be, all shielded by the excuse ‘if you called more.’

Jin got the candles for your cake ready when the first call didn't go through, you made a joke out of it at first, giving the call another try. He tried lighting the candles when you stopped him “we have to wait until they answer,” your smile was slowly fading by then. You texted your mom and then tried FaceTiming her again, and she didn't answer, you felt your heart shatter and little.

“It's okay, they might have to work tomorrow, plus we've been talking all day and all,” you chuckled, “we'll record it for them! That way they won't feel left out,” it was less of a suggestion and more of a thing you immediately got ready for, pulling out your phone in front of the cake and getting the camera angle just right.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked, looking at you with the softest, most loving look. You didn't speak simply nodding as you hit record and he lit the candles.

“1, 2, 3…” you started clapping, singing the typical birthday song for your home country, you had been fine at first, singing happily and then your voice started breaking, you tried clearing your throat to continue but Jin didn't miss this.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, but you just kept singing, your voice broke again until it was barely a whisper so he paused the recording.

“What's wrong? We can stop if you want love, we don't have to-” he tried holding your face but you put your hands up taking a few deep breaths.

“We have to finish, I'm fine,” you said, your voice thick with the lump in your throat.

You were heartbroken, but you wouldn't be able to send this to them if you broke down on video. You were so confused, you had talked all day, and every year, even if you had talked all day, no matter if it was 5pm or 9pm they'd be there to sing happy birthday before, why was it so different now? Did you do something wrong? You thought all your issues and disagreements have been talked out enough, was it not enough for them? You remembered how earlier your dad had called you, how he said he'd been crying because he missed you and he wished he was with you. Your relationship hadn't always been the best but you thought it was better now, you thought you had gotten over your issues.

These were all thoughts that ran through your mind as you finished the song, going on to sing happy birthday in your native language and Korean, Jin hated seeing you so heartbroken, he hated the tears that came down your face. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind as he finished the song for you, since your voice was again barely above a whisper. The number candles had melted apart as you blew on them, the tears now escaping without you being able to stop.

Jin hated this, this was meant to be your day, you were supposed feel loved and happy and excited, hell, all of them had been back and were working on their newest comeback and he managed to plan a sweet day, the guys had all texted or called you, but your parents couldn't bother to answer your call for a simple birthday call?

“Why don't you try texting your dad hmm?” He tried suggesting as he pulled you in for a hug. “No, they're probably asleep it's fine,” you argued as you picked out the pieces of candles that had fallen apart.

“I'll call them then!” he retorded.

“No! It's fine, can we just sit on the couch and cuddle please?” You pleaded as you moved to the living room, he followed close behind, as he saw you start to break down again. He sighed, and sat next to you, pulling you into his chest as you cried, holding onto his shirt tightly. He hated this for you, especially today, he'd ve damned if he let your day be ruined by this. After you'd stopped crying he stepped aside and texted his group chat with his members:

911, I need you all at my place yesterday, no ifs ands or buts.

It took less than 30 minutes for them to get there, all in comfy clothes as if they had been about to go to bed, “hyung what's wrong?” Jungkook asked first yawning and stretching as Jin led them into the apartment.

“Yn’s parents didn't answer her call for them to sing happy birthday,” he spoke quietly and sighed, hearing your sniffles coming from the living room. His dongsaengs looked confused at first, before remembering all the days after your birthday where he vowed to learn your home country's birthday song for you one day.

“Are you serious?” Jimin whisper-yelled. It was followed by a chorus of how could they do that and is Yn noona okay?

He simply walked over to you, now they were all much more awake. “My love? The guys are here! I was thinking we could all eat cake together, hmm?” He sat next to you, caressing your head. You looked up and saw all of them, various levels of concern and sadness in their eyes. You felt your eyes water again as you stood up, pulling Jin up with as you pulled the rest of them in for a hug.

“Oh, Ynie,” Yoongi spoke, “we're all here for you! We're your family too!”

“Yeah, you always have us and Jin hyung for support,” Taehyung said next, you felt his hand patting the top of your head and you chuckled weakly.

You pulled away, seeing them all there and smiled, happy that you had them, that you had Jin and that you weren't as alone as you felt. “Thank you guys,” you sniffled, “do you want some cake?” You asked with a smile and immediately all six ran to your kitchen, a mix of reactions, most noticeable being Namjoon's and Hobi's as they agreed that they should cut the biggest piece for you. You were happy to know that even if you felt as an after thought for others, you'd never be an after thought for them, and especially not for Jin.

You turned back to Jin, who immediately cupped your face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears. “Thank you for today love,” you smiled softly, holding onto the sides of his shirt, “I'm sorry for being an cry baby.”

“Hey!” He got closer to you, “you are not a cry baby, you deserve only the best for your birthday and everyday of our lives, and I will make sure you get it no matter what,” he assured you. You simply nodded and got on your tippy toes to kiss him, it was chaste and sweet, not lasting too long since Jungkook was calling for you to come get your piece.

As you walked off, Jin received an email notification, letting him know that the most important birthday gift he'd been planning for you was ready, the ring you'd designed yourself.

And he couldn't wait to put it on your finger soon.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts au #seokjin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin #seokjin fluff #bts jin #bts fluff #bts fic

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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months ago

Note

What do you think about König and Horangi!Sister that an idol?

Having a brother with a reputation for gambling problems is something that kinda downed your up-and-coming career - especially if you're trying to gain money to cover for your minimal idol payments. Most of the new idols don't actually get a lot of money - especially if the groups consist of more than 5 people and you still haven't paid off your trainee debt...yeah, you haven't seen money for the last few years. Surviving off cup noodles and sheer spite(while still being forced into concerts for a dying brand that wouldn't survive the winter show drop), you were... disappointed in your choices, to say the least. You don't even have creepy fans, for fucks sake! Like you're the invisible backside girl from your band. Somewhere along the cake you pretend to eat(you're going crazy from the diet your managers have put you on recently), you stumbled across a man. A grown man. A fucking creepy and weird grown-up man in the apartment that you(whenever you're not in training dorms) and your brother share. And, well, at first, you thought it was a robber. Or a debt collector. That your useless gambler of a brother is finally going to get his ass whipped. The man turned out to be your brother's friend, which was insanely weird. Also turned out to be your huge fan, which is fucking impossible...but also flattering. Dude almost died when you did your favorite cute photo pose and thanked him for the support. Showed you the collection of cards with your photos he has - and you feel your cheeks flushing because...well, he is creepy. Weird. Obsessive. Parading the exclusive merch, he collected with your face and emojis planted on everything...and you honestly couldn't like him more. Adore him as much as possible. You're an idol, but the reality isn't as pink and cool as the advertisements. You're not a part of the big group, and there aren't a lot of things that can be done to save your career...so, naturally, you latch onto Konig. He is awkward, but pretty cute once you talked him into taking off his mask. You don't want a PR scandal after being caught with someone like him - still, you enjoy the way his hands are shaking when you hug him and the gifts he would give you after you push your ass closer to the obvious tent in his pants. Being an idol isn't bringing you a lot of money...but being Konig's pretty girl definitely is.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #loser!konig

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euphoricfilter · 8 months ago

Note

"should we go to sleep, love?" + yoongi + 1 (yandere) + 6 (ddlg) + 7 (mafia) !!!

(i was thinking about your au/short https://www.tumblr.com/euphoricfilter/710690718982766592/baby-we-need-to-get-dressed-so-jinnie-can-watch 👀)

cake and ice cream:

pairing: mafia yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || yandere au || mafia au || established relationship

summary: all it takes to stop a sugar rush is a nice warm bubble bath

word count: 637 words (a small treat!)

tags/ warnings: fluffy fluff, sweet boyfriend yoongi (forget how they met), they’re in love and it’s cute, a pinch of ddlg

notes: i actually used to love writing for this couple i’m glad we could bring them back >:) this can be read as a standalone!!!

previous parts: how time has changed you || it’s all in your head || consumed by you

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you’d been scuttling around the house for hours, never sticking to one of your many hobbies for more than 20 minutes before you decide you’re bored and want to do something else.

yoongi can only assume it’s the little treat he’d brought home for you after dinner. and as much as cake on its own would have been enough, you’d looked up at him with the precious little smile, asking for a bowl of ice cream on the side. you’d been eyeing it since yesterday afternoon when he’d taken you to the store to pick out a treat for the week.

and how could he say no? treats are there to be eaten and he would never deny you that simply little pleasure.

“should we go to sleep, love?” yoongi asks from the couch, watching you pull a sketchbook from one of the drawers under the TV.

you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, shaking your head.

“not tired yet, yoon” you murmur, pulling your paints out the drawer to find your colour pencils.

he leans back a little, legs spread as he watches you rummage around, mess you’re making sure to stay there unless he cleaned it up for you

“how about a warm bath then?”

that makes you pause. smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“we have that vanilla bubble bath you picked out…” he continues.

you drop the sketchbook back into the drawer.

“can we make the towel warm for after…” you fully turn to look at him.

“of course, my love” he stands, reaching out his hand for you.

you take it without hesitation, letting him help you stand before you trail behind him up the stairs.

“pink or yellow towel tonight?”

you fall onto the bed once you’re in the bedroom, hands reaching for the soft pillows on your side of the bed.

you lean your cheek against the pillow, looking over at yoongi who has both towels in hand.

“pink” you chirp.

you stay on the bed as too go runs the bath, room peaceful with the splash of water echoing off the walls of the bathroom, sweet smelling bubble bath finally lulling you into the late evening haze of sleep, slowly creeping closer to the warm embrace of bedtime.

it isn’t long before yoongi is slipping out the bathroom, huff of a laugh passing through his lips as looks at you sprawled across the bed.

“bath is ready” he hums, though you make no attempt to move.

“too tired” it comes out muffled, face pressed in the pillow.

“for someone whose been running around all evening i’m not surprised, poor thing” he croons, stepping closer to the edge of the bed.

he’s quick to pick you up, slung over his shoulder as he trudged back into the bathroom, gentle as he sits you on the toilet seat.

“arms up, baby”

you do as he says, head tipping forward to lean on his stomach as he unhooks your bra.

it isn’t long before your sat in the bath, eyes slipping shut as yoongi’s fingers work through your hair, pressing down over your scalp, down the back of your neck and over your shoulders. tension eased by soapy warm water and his deft fingers pressing over sore muscles

“no falling asleep in the bath” he murmurs, fingers raking through your hair, “still need to do your skincare”

“will you do it for me” you press a warm cheek against the cold porcelain edge of the tub.

“of course, my darling” his fingers brush over your jaw, “if that is what you want, then i’ll always be there to do it for you”

“love you” you breathe out, blinking up at him with tired eyes.

his lips curl into a gentle smile, “and i love you more than you’ll ever know”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts #yoongi #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you

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the-boy-meets-evil · 10 months ago

Text

today of all days | vernon

(the lull of the new year never really comes for you, which is fine. it's better to be busy. this year, you're a little too busy planning something else to worry much about valentine's day. It's never been your favorite holiday anyway. but, could your boyfriend have forgotten in entirely?)

pairing: vernon x afab!reader genre: est. relationship, non-idol!au | smut, slight angst, fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~4.6k warnings: mentions of food, there's a little angst, but it's mostly miscommunication, kissing, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (don't do this without talking about it), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, i think that's it

a/n: happy valentine's day to the always wonderful, absolutely amazing @wonwussy 💕 it's been so much fun to get to write this for you. i hope you enjoy it! this is part of @svthub's cupid for you valentine's exchange organized by my bby @wongyuseokie (who is very amazing and also made the banner & divider). happy valentine's (and carat day)!

There’s usually kind of a lull at the beginning of the new year. Like everyone decides that after the holidays, you’re due for a break. People try to work on their resolutions, businesses expect to see the drop off in their sales. Everything just feels more peaceful. It’s that calm before the storm when everything picks up again.

Not for you, though. At least not this year. February brings Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend’s birthday. You don’t really care that much about the former. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with, and you’re sure the two of you will do something, but it’s nothing crazy. As long as you have him and a quiet night in, you’re good. It’s the latter of the two things that’s keeping an otherwise peaceful time from being peaceful.

Here’s the thing. Vernon isn’t one to make a big deal of his birthday, never has been. He feels similar to the way you feel about Valentine’s Day. He likes to do something to mark the passing of time, definitely enjoys the presents, but doesn’t feel the need for it to be some huge thing. It’s a little difficult, too, because he’s got another friend with the same birthday. For the years that they’ve been friends, they’ve always tried to work it around each other. Seokmin is a year older and feels a little more strongly about birthdays as something that should be celebrated. Somehow, that led to this year. A coordinated birthday for the two of them with all their friends there to celebrate the both of them. Two different cakes, two different contributions to the menu, and twice as many people to coordinate with.

To say it’s been a bit of a headache is an understatement.

You love Vernon. He’s been your person for over two years and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. You also love to plan things for other people as a way to show them how much you care. This has just been a bigger undertaking than you imagined. Especially when you have to keep the party under wraps. Vernon knows you’re doing something with a group of friends. He thinks it’s only a small group. But, he’ll appreciate it all the same. Just like he seems to appreciate everything that you do.

“Babe,” Vernon calls from the living room. He’s in the middle of gaming with Wonwoo, connected by their headsets.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Wonwoo says that I’m gonna get in trouble for not planning some big thing for Valentine’s,” Vernon tells you.

You can hear the protests from Vernon even through the headset, which makes you chuckle. “As long as we get to cook something together and have a night in, I’m good.”

“See?” Vernon says triumphantly. There’s a pause where Wonwoo must be asking something. “Oh, yeah, I’m definitely getting a gift.”

“What?” you ask with clear surprise. Gifts were not part of the plan for this year.

“It’s nothing big, but I’ve got the perfect idea,” Vernon says with a familiar look of mischief.

“Oh no, no you are not,” you counter. He bursts out in a cackle. “Vernon, you are not getting strawberry flavored condoms for Valentine’s Day. We don’t even use condoms.”

The laugh through Vernon’s headset is just as loud. You would probably be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Wonwoo has been in both of your lives long enough that most barriers have been erased.

“No, don’t worry, that wasn’t actually it. I have a plan,” Vernon says and you watch him suspiciously. “Promise!”

You decide to let it lie for the time being. At least partly, because you don’t want to keep standing there while he’s playing video games. Partly because you knew it meant he would be distracted enough that you could sneak off to the bedroom to make a call about the party.

Jeonghan had not been your first choice for a party planning committee because sometimes it’s hard to get an actual thought out of him. You’re not always sure what he’s thinking. But, he’s Seokmin’s best friend and one of the best schemers you know. Thankfully, these days he really only uses his talents for good. Well, it would be thankfully if you didn’t harbor a grudge over a prank he played when you first met.

Miraculously, Jeonghan is also free and willing to do some final planning. It’s that stage where the final group of friends get clued in. Some friends, who shall remain nameless, had to find out much closer to the day. They just couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. You’re actually impressed that you’ve managed to keep it from Vernon and Seokmin. You confirm that Vernon doesn’t know. He would have absolutely told you. Jeonghan also confirms that Seokmin doesn’t know because he can’t keep a secret either.

When you wander back out into the living room, Vernon is still very engrossed in his game. You kiss the top of his head, watch the small smile with his eyes trained on the screen, and plop down at the other end of the couch. You prop your computer on your lap and reach for your headphones when Vernon turns to you between matches.

“Wanna order in for dinner?” he asks and you smile.

“Oh from that place around the corner?” you suggest. Vernon rolls his eyes without any real annoyance. It’s your favorite place.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says and turns back to the game.

It’s easy, not only because you like it, but also since you know what he orders there. He’s kind of a creature of habit. Maybe you are too, since you always want to order from the same place. It’ll give you a chance to watch a few things while waiting as well as giving Vernon the chance to keep playing with Wonwoo. The gaming is always seamless for them after years of working together.

When the food arrives, Vernon finishes his last game so that he can eat with you. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s so thoughtful with things like that. When you first moved in with him, you were a little worried. You had never lived with a partner and weren’t sure how to navigate it. As it turns out, with the right person, it’s pretty easy. You leave each other to do your own things and then come together after.

“You’re sure you’re okay with a quiet Valentine’s Day?” he asks when you curl into him after dinner.

“It’s a little late if I’m not considering it’s in two days,” you say with a light laugh.

“I’m being serious,” he says.

“I’m good, Vernon. I’ve got you and we’re going to make something together,” you say.

“I promise not to burn down the kitchen,” he assures you.

“You’ve been getting a lot better,” you say. “Plus, we also have dinner this weekend for your birthday.”

“We don’t really have to do anything crazy for my birthday, you know. It’s so close to Valentine’s Day and…” Vernon trails off before you press a kiss to his lips.

“I love to celebrate your birthday. It’s another year of you and everyone should be thankful for that,” you say.

Valentine’s morning comes bright and early. Sun streams through the cracks in your shades. Not quite enough to wake you up, but enough for you to know that it’s morning. You smile and stretch out, thinking it’s probably earlier than you need to be up. As you’re considering waking Vernon up to celebrate the day when you register an emptiness.

You’re the only one in the bed.

You open your eyes and confirm what you already knew. Vernon isn’t in bed with you. The door to the bathroom is open and the light is off, so he’s not in there either. Although you prefer to lay in bed to wake up, curiosity gets the better of you and propels you out of bed to the living room. The entire apartment is quiet, still. Well, still apart from your cat that’s weaving between your legs. He doesn’t seem hungry, so you think he’s just wondering what you’re doing. It’s odd that he would have left the apartment so early in the morning.

Padding back to the bedroom, you find your phone on the nightstand, plugged in like it always is. When you unlock it, you have a myriad of messages and notifications. Conspicuously absent, though, is a message from your boyfriend. There’s nothing to tell you where he is or went or could be. Which is odd, yes, but mostly it just makes you a little irritated. Sure, you don’t ever want to make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It’s plenty to spend the day with someone you love that loves you back.

Vernon can be a little spacy at times. It’s not his best quality, but it’s also impossibly endearing. Maybe it’s because you know how much he’s thinking about when he’s got that look like he’s never had a thought in his life. It also makes him really chill, which matches you well. He doesn’t always have to be going or doing something. But, he’ll just as happily go out and be your shield because he’s much more of a people person than you are.

All this to say, there’s part of you that wonders if the holiday just slipped his mind. It’s not like it’s a big deal, you said as much to him. But, you still expect something. Even if it’s just to know where he is so early in the morning. You hate that you wonder if he forgot because you trust Vernon with your life. He can get distracted sometimes. One time, he got so caught up in a project that he entirely forgot dinner plans with his friends.

The mature thing to do would be to send him a text and ask where he is or even to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You’re not feeling especially mature, though. And you feel very justified in that annoyance because he’s the one that left early. He should be the one to let you know where he is. It should not be on you.

Trying to push the thoughts of Vernon out of your mind, you get ready for the day. Opt to leave earlier so you can buy yourself something to eat and some coffee on the way. By the time you reach work, you’re even more irritated rather than calmer. Every radio station was playing love songs that fit the genre. Every host seems to want to know what people’s plans are for the day. The coffee shop by your office was decorated in red, white, and pink hearts with all sorts of specials for the day. When you head into the office, it only gets worse. People have flowers on their desks, are exchanging happy wishes, talking about how they can’t wait to get out of work for their plans. Some people are spending it with partners, others are spending it with friends. Either way, everyone seems to have plans that are better than whatever will be waiting when you get home. Why did Vernon have to pick today of all days to be forgetful?

Your work best friend stops by your desk with the typical cup of coffee mid morning and stops in his tracks when he senses your mood.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Minho asks.

“Wow, hello to you too,” you respond when you take the coffee from him.

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” he says.

“Maybe I am,” you answer.

“But, it’s Valentine’s Day and you have, like, the most perfect boyfriend. What’s there to be mad about?” he asks.

“Can’t be the most perfect boyfriend if he was gone before I woke up and didn’t even text me to say anything,” you say with all the irritation you feel.

That catches Minho’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I woke up and the bed was empty. No note. No text. Just empty,” you say.

“And you haven’t heard from him?” Minho presses.

“No,” you say, only to be distracted by your phone lighting up.

“Looks like a message from him,” he observes.

You quickly glance at your phone, hating how eager you feel just to hear something from him. It’s disappointing, though.

Vernon: sorry that i wasn’t there when you woke up, i had a last minute errand Vernon: when do you think you’ll be home from work?

Instead of telling Minho what happened, you just hand your phone over to him. His grimace says all you need to know. It’s not an overreaction.

“That’s…all he’s said to you today?” he asks.

“You can scroll to see,” you say because he still has your phone.

“No thanks,” Minho says with a laugh. “I don’t wanna accidentally see something.”

“It was one time,” you say, snatching your phone back with an eye roll.

“And I’m still scarred,” he says. “What are you going to say back?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“But…” he starts.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I know I’m chill about this holiday, but to not even say anything? And what errand does he have to do at 7 in the morning?” you ask, more irritated that you had been.

“If you want to hold onto a grudge, who am I to stop you?” he asks when he stands. “Let me know if he manages to get out of the dog house.”

With that comment, he’s off to his own desk. It usually goes something like this every day anyway. Minho shows up with coffee for you, looking to see what you have to say. Even though he’s the one that has the best gossip. Sometimes, he just wants someone to share it with. It’s a nice reprieve from your irritation. One that he repeats in the afternoon, which is a break from the norm. Unfortunately, the irritation that settles in his wake is worse than before he stops by.

You consider staying at work late when the end of the day comes. It’s not like you’re in a rush to head home. There’s also a part of you that wants to punish Vernon for forgetting a holiday that you don’t even care that much about. (Okay, maybe you care, but that’s the whole point of having someone you love that also loves you to spend it with.) Staying late by yourself feels even worse when nobody else from the office is. Everyone seems to be out the door as soon as the day ends. And, despite not answering any of Vernon’s messages, you know he’s home. At least it’ll give you the chance to figure out how to approach this.

The drive home gives you a chance to run through all sorts of conversations in your head. You’re still stewing, a bit, because you’re upset at how the day went. But, you’re also preparing yourself to have a potentially difficult conversation with Vernon. Of course, he’ll be receptive to your feelings. He always is. It’s more that you’re frustrated it happened in the first place and don’t want your feelings to seem invalid.

All of that goes out the window the second you step into your apartment. The lights are low, so it takes your eyes a second to adjust. When they do, however, you see that Vernon has transformed your living room into a scene from your favorite video game. It’s like stepping into another world. Every little detail is so carefully thought out that you can’t even appreciate it all in one look. Your feet carry you forward to examine the small things. The ones that very obviously took extra effort. You’re so busy appreciating it all that you don’t even notice Vernon coming in from the kitchen.

“I know we said no presents, but I wanted to do this anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, pulling you out of your head.

“How did you…” you ask, unable to even finish the question.

“I found someone who had this whole set for their ex and wanted to get rid of it. He was practically giving it away, but I had to go pick it up like 2 hours away,” he says.

You look around and can tell the level of care that went into creating this. “That’s why you were gone when I woke up?”

“Yeah, I left you notes on breakfast in the fridge and coffee in the microwave, but I guess you didn’t see those,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” you say and don’t even realize that tears started to fall until Vernon’s pulling you into his arms.

“It’s fine, what are you sorry for?” he asks, holding you tightly.

“I spent the whole day thinking you forgot Valentine’s Day and being mad. That’s why I didn’t answer your texts,” you say.

“I just figured it was a busy day and you were excited to get home,” Vernon says.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

He pulls back so that he can look down at you. Wipes the tears gently away from under your eyes. “It’s fine, babe. I’m not upset at you when I can be forgetful.”

Nobody has ever done something like this for you. You can’t imagine how long it took to transform the living room this way. There aren’t any words you can think of to express how much it all means to you, so you just press your lips against his. Throw your hands around his neck to keep him close to you. He’s surprised, at least for a second, before he pulls you in tighter against him and kisses you back. It’s not the time to talk, at least not right now. How could you have thought this man would ever forget?

“Can I show you what I was thinking about before I realized you were already gone this morning?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“Just trust me,” you say and pull him into the bedroom with you.

Any hesitations that he may have had disappear when you resume kissing him. Your fingers nimbly undo his pants so that you can slide them down his legs. The clothes come flying off in a flurry from there, far quicker than usual for the two of you. There’s just an urgency given the way the day went. Neither of you seems to want to let your lips leave the other. As Vernon kisses down your neck, you take the opportunity to push him back onto the bed.

It’s the first time you take a second and you appreciate how beautiful he is laying on the bed. The lean lines of his muscle, his eyes hungry as they drink your body in, the way his cock rests heavily on his stomach. You need to do something, though. You nudge his legs apart as you settle yourself onto the bed between them.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“I want to,” you insist.

And you do. You take his cock into your hand and lick a stripe up it. It’s not enough, though, so you spit into your hand so you can run it along his length. He shudders under your touch. Once you wrap your lips around his tip, you pull a groan out of him. For just a second, his eyes close and his head lolls back on the pillow. It’s so pretty to watch him from this angle. To know that this man, usually so relaxed and chill, is so wound up under your power. It’s not long before he’s watching you, though. Letting out a stream of praise for how good you look with his cock in your mouth. How it turns him on, how you know just how to use your tongue. You hollow out your cheeks and it’s more than he can take.

Vernon pulls you up so that he can kiss you, so hard that you lose your breath. You’re a little off balance, which makes it easier for him to flip your positions. Now he’s the one between your legs. That same fervor is back when he spreads your lips so he can lick up your entrance. He’s always been insanely good with his mouth. It’s actually unfair. When his thumb circles your clit, you see stars for a second and arch your back into his mouth. All you can do is watch as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt. The thumb on your clit is bordering on too much sensation. Makes it hard for you to watch him even though you love the sight of him between your legs.

“Fuck, Vernon, I need more,” you whine.

“I should make you draw it out,” he says, still so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath.

“Please, Vernon, please,” you beg. You know it’ll make him cave.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers.

He runs his fingers through your folds before sliding one into your pussy. The moment his mouth finds your clit, he inserts a second finger and pumps into you at a punishing pace. It’s everything you can do not to squirm under his efforts. As it is, the words coming out of your mouth are entirely incoherent. What you want to say is that he’s a god with both his mouth and his fingers. That he knows just how to fit you where you need him most. That nobody has ever felt as good as him.

What you manage to yell out: “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come.”

Vernon hums against your clit and it’s all too much. Your release is nearly instant. You don’t even notice how he guides you through your high or that he doesn’t remove his fingers until your body stops shaking. Miss the way he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing you. Not that you would mind. His lips wander down your neck to your chest, kissing all the way. He loves your breasts, loves the soft skin there. Loves to nip and watch the way you react. Most of all, he loves to leave marks there. Even if you won’t let him mark you where other people can see (at least, not often), you’ll always let him mark up your chest. He roughly sucks a mark into your sensitive skin and you squirm.

Any other time, you would let him enjoy it. Let him take his time. Not today. You need to feel him. Need to have that connection with him. He seems to realize it too.

“Roll over on your side,” he directs.

You hasten to do exactly what he asks. He slides right in behind you and you bring your leg forward a little so that it’ll be easier on him. One of his arms slides under your neck. The other lines his cock up at your entrance. He presses lightly, at least at first, giving you time before he’s fully inside you. No matter how many times you and Vernon fuck, you’ll never be fully prepared for the way he feels. It’s the most perfect type of full. Just enough of a stretch without it being overwhelming.

It’s only a second before he starts moving, with his hand on your stomach. Not too fast. Just enough to give you the relief that you need. Not enough that it’s going to push you over the edge again. You’re still sensitive, though. The connectedness of your bodies is exactly what you need. It’s intimate in all the ways that you couldn’t tell him that you needed. But, he knows. Of course, he knows. This man knows you better than anyone else, a fact clear in how he thrusts into you.

Vernon’s free hand moves from your stomach up to your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you groan out. That’s the other best part about your relationship with Vernon. There isn’t a need for constant communication during sex. He knows what you like and you know what he likes. He knows how to interrupt your moans and your pleas. Knows when to pick up the pace.

It’s entirely too soon when you feel your second orgasm coming on. “I’m close, oh my god.”

“I know, baby, just come for me,” Vernon urges as he continues to thrust hard into you.

Despite that, you try to hold out because you know that he’s not there yet, can feel it in the way he fucks into you. It’s a losing battle, though, and you end up coming even harder than the first time. Vernon fucks through your high before slowing down to give you a minute to breath. Always so considerate of what you need.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you urge.

He doesn’t have to ask if you’re sure, he can feel it in the way you clench around him. Makes him groan as he moves again. You’re still a little out of it from the two orgasms, so it doesn’t register just how sensitive you are. You tilt your head so that you can kiss him. Catch all his groans with your lips. Partly since you know how much the intimacy of it all means to him. Know that it’ll send him over the edge.

A minute later it does just that. Even though you feel spent, he manages to pull a third orgasm out of you with his own. There’s a moment when you’re both catching your breath that neither of you move or even say anything. It gives you a moment to remember just how much you love him. Vernon slides out of you carefully and you roll over so that you can face him.

“I love you,” he says with a soft smile, fingers gently moving a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you say.

“Do we have to get up right now?” he asks.

You shake your head and let him pull you into his body. His arms feel strong and safe around you. Like home, which is what he’s always been for you. From entirely too early into the relationship. A feeling that’s only grown in the time you’ve been together.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“You don’t need to be, “ Vernon assures you. “I’m forgetful sometimes and you’ve been busy lately. I figured this was a good way to say thank you for everything you do.”

“What? The sex?” you joke.

He huffs into your hair. “I take it all back.”

You pull back to look at him. “It was perfect. Almost as perfect as you.”

A light blush creeps up. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you whisper into his skin when you cuddle back against his chest.

“We still have to cook dinner,” he says.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want to move from this spot right now,” you say.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.

Forever, you think. That’s how long you want to stay with him. It’s never felt more real than it does right now. You think, by the way he holds you, that maybe he wants to be with you forever too. It may have gotten out to a rocky start, but it ends up being the most perfect Valentine’s Day of your life.

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