?!!?!?!

⋆｡°✩ reacting to blonde jay ft. your bf jay

u got texts // drabbles | jongseong park x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader

genre: fluffy smau

notes: IM BEING SERIOUS WHEN I SAY ... BLONDE JAY ‼‼‼ got me on a chokehold THIS MAN AND HIS POWER 😭🙏

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THE WAY I WAS RATTLING MY CAGE WHEN I SAW IT 😭😭😭

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

i will be keeping him in my pocket 😍☝️

Omgg I love your writing esp your jake stories there's so little x male readers for him 😭😭😭 plss write more for him 🙏

WOW THANK U FIRST OF ALL 😭😭💓💓 ALSO yeah there's so much little jake x male!reader stuff out there (or even just enha x male!reader in general) probs because there's so little peeps interested in dynamics like that, ship content alr out instead, or just peeps afraid to write male people which is so sad like I WANT MORE TOOOOO 😭😭 BUT I'LL TRY MY BEST OKIE PLS STAY TUNED FOR MORE 🖐️🖐️🖐️

⋆｡°✩ a quick convo with your bf ni-ki

u got texts // drabbles | nishimura riki x male!reader

pairing: ni-ki x male!reader

genre: fluff

notes: just wanted to write this down because i was bombarded with ni-ki memes in my pinterest ... i love his expressive face sm 😭

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cutie HDSAJFHUASFAS hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

omg is he covering it because of that infamous open eye pic of him of what 😭

[SUNGHOON] Jjongssaeng HBD~

JSHSHSBSBS SO GOOD 😭🥰

Flower Puff Boy — p.js

park jongseong x male reader fluff with very lil angst 2.3k words

Over the past year, people have come to know you as the guy who always gives flowers. You’ve used every occasion as an excuse to purchase flowers from Jay, your neighborhood florist, and each time you walked in, you always ended up with a free flower from him. As Valentine’s Day nears, you realize what flowers truly mean to him and you.

includes: flower language! (might be wrong, i’m not good with flowers myself); a call back to my other xo era-inspired fic (pls read it too if u haven’t yet :’3) warning: n/a

You were never well-versed in the language of flowers. No special fascination, no favorite blooms nor scents growing up. But over the past year, you have come to be known as the guy who gives flowers. For friends who started new jobs, relatives who celebrated their birthdays, and even your coworker who merely complained about the blandness of her beige desk, flowers had become your go-to gift.

You first stepped into Flower Puffs on a whim, a small shop tucked into a side road with little traffic. Despite its humble appearance, its color always stood out against the dull low-rise apartments beside it. The chalkboard outside boasted seasonal arrangements and flower meanings scribbled in neat, cursive letters. It started simple: a gift for your mother on Mother’s Day.

—

Behind the counter, a young man arranges a bouquet. His sleeves were rolled up, and the veins along his arms were like vines growing on a trellis. He glances up at the sound of the bell jingling above the door. His eyes lock onto yours, lips stretching into a smile as charming as the flowers that surrounded him.

“Hey there. Mother’s Day?”

You hesitate by the entrance. His directness catches you off guard, though it makes sense—most of his clients for the day were probably here for the same reason.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Good call,” he replies, his smile reaching to his eyes. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps around the counter. “Something classic or something unique?”

You shift on your feet, glancing at the rows of flowers neatly arranged on wooden displays. “Uh… I don’t really know flowers.”

He chuckles softly, approaching the nearest display to you. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

He hums as he gestures at his different floral arrangements, voice filled to the brim with enthusiasm. It’s quite captivating—the way he spoke about flowers—detailing their scientific properties, from colors to scents, then unraveling the messages they somehow conveyed without words.

He picks up some delicate stems, their green, fuzzy leaves adorned with tiny yellow flowers that spiral upward along its length. Oddly, they remind you of the herbs you use to season food. “Agrimonias mean gratitude and protection. Old legends say that if you sleep with agrimonias under your pillow, they ward off evil.”

He then picks up another few bright yellow flowers, bigger than but as slender as the agrimonias. “These hawksbeards here mean something similar—protection and contentment.”

“And some Peruvian lilies,” he says, picking up some flowers in a darker shade of yellow, with lines of purple decorating its petals. “They mean a lot of things: wealth, fortune, and devotion. If it’s for your mom, you probably want the most for her, right?”

You nod. There’s a strange intimacy in the interaction, listening to someone speak about something they’re clearly passionate about in such a quiet environment. You reach out to take the bouquet he’s begun assembling, and for a split second, your fingers brush. 

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker to your face in amusement then he steps back with a grin. He plucks a white flower from one of the nearby displays and twirls it between his fingers.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “A calla lily. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“What does it mean?”

“Magnificent beauty,” he replies smoothly, “like you.”

You freeze, caught between surprise and amusement. The confidence in his delivery makes you think that this is a regular schtick he does with his customers; however, for a beat too long, you consider if he could be as genuine as the flowers that he sells. 

A laugh bubbles up in your throat as you notice the board on the counter that reads Flower Puffs in colorful chalk.

“Well, thank you… Flower Puff Boy,” you finally reply.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” he cackles, slapping a hand over his eyes. “But Jay would probably be better,” he corrects. “And you?”

—

It all began there, and you kept on coming back. Every occasion has become a perfect time to come visit Jay’s shop.

And each time, he gives you a flower. Even on days where you decide not to purchase anything and just pass the time at his shop, you always leave with a single flower in your hand. You keep them all, pressed in between pages of your books, tucked into vases by your windowsill, like tokens of each visit. In your mind, you’ve authored a tiny dictionary of all their meanings.

Wood sorrels for joy, when a childhood friend came to visit you in the city.

Mayflowers for perseverance, when your boss just recovered from a major surgery.

Lemon geraniums for unexpected meetings, when you welcomed a new guy in the workplace.

Then he gave you a lily of the valley for the return of happiness, because he hadn’t expected you to come back so soon.

Then milkvetches, because, as he put it, your presence softened his pains—something he didn’t explain further.

Then French marigolds for jealousy, after you mentioned to him how attractive the new guy at work was.

He didn’t seem to lie about what his flowers meant, yet you never took the time to question if the flowers really meant anything to him—to you. After all, he’s just a merchant, and you’re just a customer. Assuming otherwise would be foolish, especially when, after nearly a year of frequenting his shop, you knew nothing much other than his name and his line of work.

What do you do outside the shop? What else do you like other than flowers?

Were those even questions you could ask?

And yet, you still return. Not exactly for him, but for the giddy feeling you get when you learn something new about a flower—or so you tell yourself.

The bell rings as you step inside, and as always, the familiar florist stands behind the counter, carefully arranging a bouquet. He’s leaning over the counter, speaking with a customer—a guy around your age, donning an oversized sweater and smiling brightly. Jay notices you, glancing at you, but his attention is swiftly drawn back to the man he was talking to.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the shop is too small not to overhear everything. Turning to the wooden displays, you pretend to browse through the flowers, testing yourself on the meanings you’ve learned.

“With a love letter and everything,” the guy says.

Jay chuckles. “Sounds… romantic… Who’s the lucky guy?”

Mustards. Greenish-yellow, as in the plant with the seeds that are used to make the condiment with the same name. It meant indifference, Jay said, when you wanted to buy something for a leaving coworker who you really didn’t care about.

“No idea. The flowers had me thinking they got it from you.”

Jay hums. “Sunoo got one. Then I think Heeseung?”

Cobaeas. Large, bell-shaped, and violet. Gossip, like you tuning in more to their conversation. Who are these people that they’re mentioning?

“Heeseung?” the guy repeats.

“Said he’s getting ‘em to cheer someone up. Maybe it’s him?”

The guy laughs. “I don’t think he swings my way. If it’s Sunoo or Heeseung, then this person probably bought it elsewhere.”

Goldenrods. So small, Jay just uses them to fill up his flower arrangements. He said they could mean precaution, but for what exactly?

“I hope you find out soon, or maybe not. Then I’ll make you a better bouquet. No secret messages though, just a delicate arrangement of flowers from your favorite florist.”

French marigolds. Jealousy. Huh.

You turn back to the couple by the counter, finding the guy chuckling and shaking his head. “I’ll take that offer when the mystery turns exhausting. But I’m pretty invested right now.”

Jay smiles at him, all easygoing and warm as usual. “Let me know how it turns out then.”

The guy waves goodbye, taking one last look at the bouquet in his hands before heading out. Jay then exhales, fingers tapping against the wood. He notices you again, now with his full attention, and grins.

“What’re you doing over there? Come tell me your excuse for visiting today. Don’t tell me it’s Lunar New Year.”

You force a chuckle, stepping closer. “Birthday of a friend. Was just testing if I remember the botanical stuff you’ve taught me.”

Jay tilts his head. He points to some oxeye daisies, petals white with a yellow center. “What do those mean?”

“Patience. Purity. The he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not flower.”

“Correct,” he replies, picking one and twirling it between his fingers. “Is this friend you’re talking about a friend-friend or…”

“Or?”

“Friends with ulterior motives,” Jay laughs. “Friends from a different dimension.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “No. A real, very existing friend.”

Jay studies you for a moment, an embarrassing warmth creeping into your face. You might make every occasion an excuse to visit Jay, but you won’t stoop so low as to invent stories about imaginary people. 

“You have to stop giving out flowers on a whim like that, your friend might misinterpret,” he says.

You hesitate briefly, then you roll your eyes in realization. “I could say the same thing about you giving free flowers to all your customers.”

Jay furrows his brows. “I don’t?”

“Huh?”

A beat passes.

“I don’t give free flowers to all my customers,” Jay repeats.

“Just me then?”

If not all customers, then maybe just the ones who buy a lot. That makes sense. Definitely not just you, don’t be delusional.

“Just you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

The guy from earlier left with his bouquet and nothing else. Another beat passes. Then Jay claps his hands together.

“So! A birthday bouquet. Got flowers in mind or you want my floral magic again?”

You blankly nod, mind still reeling from what Jay has just told you. “You do your magic, I’ll watch.”

Jay begins to work, slow as he selects the first few flowers, then fingers moving more efficiently as the flower arrangement grows into something more colorful and “meaningful.” You shift your weight from foot to foot as you watch him, letting the faint snip of scissors and rustling of wrapping paper fill in the silence.

After a moment, you find yourself asking: “Do you really believe in it?”

Jay glances up, pausing from cutting a length of pink ribbon. “In what?”

“Flowers and their meanings,” you clarify.

“Well, they mean something if you want them to,” he replies, before resuming what he was doing with the ribbon, gently tying it around the bouquet. “I mean,” Jay hesitates. “Flowers are just like any other gift or gesture. They only matter as much as you let them.”

He pushes the finished bouquet towards you, giving you a warm smile. “Or maybe you just like giving beautiful people something beautiful, and that’s as valid as any other reason,” he adds. “I’ve never been good with words anyway, so I’d appreciate flowers even if they really meant nothing other than pretty, colorful things.”

You nod, smiling back in understanding. Then the words tumble out before you can think too hard about them, a joke too sincere, a humorous statement that’s been stripped of its humor. Because you’re just that good with words unlike this Flower Puff Boy.

“Would it be fraternization with the enemy if I brought you flowers for Valentine’s?”

Jay stills, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he catches on. “I guess I’ll give you white catchflies then. Betrayal!”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, prodding at the bouquet on the counter. “Have to check out the competition.”

Jay gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “After all the free flowers!?”

Your lips twitch. “Wasn’t exactly a fan of such a manipulative business tactic,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue in mock offence. “Guess I’ll have to stop the freebies then.”

The playful banter comes easily, but your heart stutters, thumping in your chest and wavering your voice in the process. For almost a year, you thought that Jay’s easy charm was just part of customer service. Maybe it was, but now, it definitely doesn’t feel like it.

“Valentine’s, huh?” Jay grins. “Receiving flowers on that day instead of selling them would be a change.”

You glance at the long-forgotten bouquet for your friend, your fingers idly brushing over the brown paper wrapped around the flowers.

“Actually,” you start, voice a little quieter, “could you make another bouquet for me? To pick up on a different day? Forgot something.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? What occasion?”

You smile, keeping it light. “Secret.”

Jay playfully narrows his eyes. “Am I gonna be jealous of another ‘friend’ of yours?”

“Should you?” you laugh, making Jay grumble in fake frustration. “I’ve got specific flowers in mind.”

“Okay, tell me what flowers you want,” he sighs. “I’ll prepare them by the date you need them.”

White chrysanthemums. Moss rosebuds. Peach blossoms. And lastly, yellow jonquils.

“Do you know what these flowers mean?” Jay slowly asks, as if he’s still processing the list of flowers you just gave him.

You nod, heat once again rushing to your face. “Do you?”

Jay shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We might have different dictionaries. Spell it out for me, please?”

You take a moment, the words spilling as if it came from a script, though your voice shakes. “I’m not lying when I say that this is a confession. You have captivated me and I desire a return of this affection.”

“That’s quite a specific message,” Jay replies, exhaling. “Who’s it for then?”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of what this scene means. “You.”

Jay shakes his head, but you see the fondness in his expression. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters. “When will you be picking it up?”

“On Valentine’s, of course.”

He laughs. “I’m a florist. Wait for my reply in flowers by then.”

A sense of ease washes over you. “I’ll see you by then, Flower Puff Boy.”

Jay watches you with a smile as you turn toward the door, the familiar chime ringing once again.

For the first time, you leave the shop with no free flower to take home. And for the first time, you’re comfortable admitting that it wasn’t just the flowers that you were always looking forward to.

author's note: it’s over 2 weeks too late for valentine’s but hey i made it! would y’all believe me if i said i broke my arm a few months ago and it stalled everything for a while 😭 i hav a lot of drafts ongoing so let’s hope i don’t disappear for another few months ADF:gpzicvbpzpvo sorry for always slacking y'allllls

references: Flower language taken from the 1867 book “The illustrated language of flowers” by Mrs. L. Burke: https://archive.org/details/illustratedlang00burka

— moriwood.

AFJWFHAJKFHSJFHAJCWAK!?!?!?!

Jay ‘A Tale of Together’ for Pomellato

⋆｡°✩ [jay, jake, ni-ki, sunghoon] when they find your old fan account ...

for some reason, your idol boyfriend finds out about your old fan account ...

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing/s — park jongseong x male!reader + sim jaeyun x male!reader + nishimura riki x male!reader + park sunghoon x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, enhypen x engene!reader, smau / texting, fluff, suggestive content, innuendos

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, implied relationship in each pairing, swear words, innuendos, not a poly, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ u got texts : the full masterlist (revamped and reorganized)

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riki_husband.png

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — trying out this new layout on my new and ongoing series! will eventually make their way into old works. the old masterlist will be referred as the legacy one so you can still browse it! also AAAAAAAAA THAT NI-KI TIKTOK ... I AM FERALKFAJAOII0AJVOIKVEGEG I AM TIRED NISHIMURA PLS 😭

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — want to get the latest updates on this story? i do frequent posts so just be warned! just leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates~

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ you were always in his heart

unsorted | park sunghoon x male!reader

pairing: sunghoon x male!reader genre: fluff !! words: 3.1k notes: have you ever had that one person in your past that you just never forgot? what if they went out and looked for you??? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA just knew this trope for almost all the fandoms i've been but not here?? atleast for male readers?? so i had to do it to em!! LOL

"Want this pack of chips I've got?" You offered the silent boy a small pack of cheese-flavored chips, looking at him with a bright smile on your face. The playful glint in your eyes seemed to lighten the mood of the cramped elevator.

"Uhm..." He muttered, clearly unsure what to do with it, his gaze darting back and forth as if searching for an escape route from the awkwardness.

"Don't worry!" You shook the pack in front of him, the crinkling sound breaking the silence. "It's not that cheesy! But it is tasty, hehe." Your enthusiasm was infectious.

The boy examined you with a long gaze, taking in the way the cheese dust coated your fingertips. It was messy, but somehow charming. You were obviously bigger than him, and that felt... strange. Yet, there was something comforting about it. Knowing he had someone to share this moment with in a hellish, broken elevator made him smile, even if it was just a little.

"Oh! You smile!" You cheered, noticing the small smirk forming on his lips. His laughter echoed softly as you both shared a moment of joy, the tension lifting slightly.

"Of course I do." He fiddled with his hands, the skating gloves protecting his fragile fingers. "I'm not a robot."

"Hmm." You put your hand on your chin, trying to think deeply, which made you look even more playful. "Well, my friend has this big robot at his house."

The boy's eyes widened with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yeah! It will definitely blow your mind." You twirled your fingers in the air, mimicking an explosion. "Even dances like a real person!"

"Whoa..." The boy was fascinated by the topic. A robot that dances seemed to spark an interest in him, lighting up his expression. It may sound childish, but he was definitely hooked on the idea of it.

Even though it was 2016, technology still held a certain magic for him. He had never been spoiled with so much toys or even a nice phone, but the thought of a dancing robot captivated him. It was a world he could only dream of, and he liked the idea of entertaining people too.

"Yeah!" You spoke as you continued to munch on your chips, the cheesy flavor making your eyes sparkle. "I'm sure you have one! You look rich."

The boy tilted his head, confused by the compliment. He looked... rich? His family can barely afford their lifestyle, opting to travel overseas just to find cheaper skating lessons. Was it the way he dressed? Or the way he spoke? He felt uncomfortable at that observation but couldn’t blame you for it.

Looking back at you, he wondered about your own life. How did you experience the world? You seemed so carefree, so mature, yet so childlike. Where did you get all this energy? He could only wish to play with someone like you, a normal boy.

"Wait..." You asked, sensing his silence. "You must be a prince or something!"

The boy could only look down at the ground, his thoughts drowning out your words.

Realizing the shift in his demeanor, you quickly stood up and walked to his side. You playfully slid your back against the metallic wall of the elevator, settling down next to him.

"You good?" You spoke softly, trying to catch his attention.

"Y-yeah..." He mumbled, still avoiding your gaze.

Curious, you held the bag of chips in front of his face, and he flinched at the sudden movement.

"You sure you're not hungry?" You asked, still offering the bag, your voice full of warmth and kindness.

"I'm not a kid..." The boy thought for a moment, when his stomach growled deep in response. The two boys looked at each other.

Sunghoon sighed. "You really are persistent, huh?"

You laughed, surprised by his response. "Not hungry?"

He took the pack of chips from your hands, quickly grabbing whatever he could.

"Wait a minute..." He looked at you, his expression turning from excitement to confusion.

"Hmmm?" You tilted your head, not yet realizing the issue.

"It’s just dust!" He whined, clearly disappointed as he peered into the bag.

"Wah?" You looked inside the bag, brow furrowed. "No, it's not! There's still more stuff. Look harder."

The boy, still wanting to complain, peered back down into the bag. Indeed, there were still bits of chips at the bottom, the smell of cheese and salt wafting up and making his stomach grumble again.

Suddenly, a loud noise interrupted the moment. "Is..."

"What?" You asked, confusion etched on your face.

"That was you, wasn't it?" He asked, realizing how loud his stomach had been.

"No way." The boy answered, bringing the bag up to his face and taking a handful of chips.

"Wah, hey!" You exclaimed, half-laughing, half-worried as you watched him devour the remnants. You wanted to either save some for yourself or scold him for eating so quickly.

After he wiped his lips clean, satisfaction washed over his face. "That was good." He tried to flick the dust off his gloves, but it was futile; they were already stained.

"Thank you," he added, unsure if he should be embarrassed or grateful.

You assumed a reply was coming, and took a deep breath, but what came next was entirely unexpected.

"Wah! Your face!" You chuckled, unable to contain yourself as you noticed the remnants of cheese dust on his cheeks. It was too funny not to laugh at.

"What?" The boy asked, genuinely confused, his brows furrowing.

"Haha, look!" You raised a finger and tried to wipe the dust off his face, unintentionally smearing it across his cheeks. "Cheese!"

His eyes went wide as he realized how messy he looked, and he quickly tried to wipe his face with his gloves. In the process, he only managed to dirty them further.

"Oh no," he muttered, anxiety creeping in. His mother would definitely get angry.

"Huh?" You looked at him, before spotting the dirtied gloves.

"Take those gloves off then," you suggested. "Let's take it off so it doesn't bother you."

He hesitated, thinking about the consequences of his actions, but ultimately decided to let his hands free from the tight grip of his gloves. As he tried to salvage them, you continued to brush his face clean, your touch gentle and caring.

Noticing how close you were, the boy felt a warmth spread across his cheeks, turning bright red. He was mesmerized by the way your hands moved on his face.

Embarrassed, he instinctively moved away, refusing to let you touch him anymore.

"Oh?" You spoke, a playful tone in your voice. "I... I'm just cleaning it."

"I- I can do it," he stammered, trembling at the situation. Why on earth was he blushing about a boy in front of him? He didn't want to like that, but the touch of your hand on his cheek felt... nice.

Alarming both of them, the elevator suddenly jolted, and the doors opened revealing the bright lights of the mall.

"Ah! We're safe!!" You jumped up high, cheering at the top of your lungs. The boy, still dazed, could only think about the warmth of your touch when suddenly, you wrapped your hands around his and clasped them tightly.

You were holding his hand... you were holding his hand.

Even as you jumped for joy, and as the guards entered the elevator to safely assess the two of you, he couldn't get that moment out of his mind.

He liked the warmth he felt from you. It was like a fire he wanted to bathe in. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you occupied his thoughts for a while.

After getting rescued by the mall security, your mother came to talk to you, but you noticed that Sunghoon looked a bit... melancholic. It didn't sit well with you, and as you approached, you could hear how his mom and dad talked down to him. Your heart ached for him.

Running carefree, you walked towards him, determined to cheer him up.

"Hey!" You shouted when you saw him again, and he felt a rush of warmth as his face flushed.

"You good?"

Was he good? He couldn't even think straight...

"Hey..." You tried to communicate, catching his attention one last time.

"Yes?"

"You alright?" You asked, genuinely concerned but trying not to pry. You were just a kid after all.

"Y-yeah." The boy noticed how you had gone silent, while his parents looked at you with uncertainty before walking a bit farther away.

"You know, my mom told me you were a skater!" You exclaimed, your eyes lighting up as if a huge star had twinkled right beside him.

That's why you were dressed so elegantly. It was a beautiful costume that made him stand out.

"Y-yeah." He replied shyly, feeling the warmth of your compliment.

"You wear those blade things, right?" You asked, your curiosity spilling over as you admired him.

"Right??" You repeated, as if needing confirmation.

"Yes. And they're called roller blades."

"How do you not cut yourself?" You asked, your eyes wide with intrigue.

"You uhh..." The boy thought for a moment, trying to give a proper answer. "You really have to be careful."

"Woah..." You smiled, leaning closer as if he had just revealed a great secret. That was definitely something fascinating for you.

"Yeah." He nodded, seeing how your face lit up with admiration. "Why?"

"Why? Can't your new best friend ask you?"

"New best friend?" That was sudden. But not that he minded.

"Yeah!" You declared with confidence, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Who decided that?" The boy asked, amused.

"Me!" You chirped, causing him to giggle softly at your boldness.

"Of course it's you." He smiled, feeling a bit closer to you than he had earlier.

"Yeah!" You beamed back, your joy infectious and making his cheeks heat up a little. He was becoming fond of you already.

"We shared food together and I like you!" You announced proudly. "So now, we're best friends!"

"L-like?" The boy stuttered, clearly surprised by your declaration.

"Yeah!" You replied without a second thought. You both were definitely on different pages.

"Ahh..." The boy smiled, the word 'like' resonating with him in a pleasant way. To him, it beautifully described this interaction.

He liked you.

"Can I just say? You're definitely cuter than any other girl classmate I have." You smiled brightly. "Really!"

Okay, maybe you were on the same page together.

But for the boy? That heated his face even further, turning it bright red.

"And you have the cutest moles too..." You pointed out as you looked at his small face. "Look!"

He instinctively covered his face in embarrassment, wishing he could disappear into the ground. Even at the young age of 14, this was not how he pictured his simple day going.

Suddenly, he heard his parents call out to him. With your ears perking up, you held his arm, trying to talk to him one last time.

"Wait!"

The boy looked back at you, confusion evident on his face.

"Hmm?" He glanced at you, still holding onto his arm.

"What's your name?" You asked, your tone playful yet sincere.

It felt ridiculous not to know, but it was fair; he didn’t want too much attention anyway. Relaxing, he smiled softly.

"Park Sunghoon." He beamed, showing off his shy smile. "I... I skate professionally."

"Ahh..."

"And you?"

You gave your name, and Sunghoon made sure to remember it, etching that smile into his memory.

"It's ... a beautiful name." Sunghoon looked at you with fascination written all over his face.

"So is yours!" You cheered, making him giggle at that.

As he ran to catch up with his parents, you bid farewell to the skater, your heart a bit heavy at the parting.

As for Sunghoon, he couldn't care less about his performance for the day. Instead, he was only thinking of your name, itching to write it down in his notebook back at the hotel.

"I'll have to remember it," he thought to himself, gazing out the car window as the city lights glimmered against the darkening sky.

Unbeknownst to him, his future self would retire gracefully from skating. But being scouted as an idol wasn’t so bad, as he would later join a company focused on training the next big stars.

Yet, with everything that happened, nothing changed whenever he thought of you. There wasn't a single day that he didn't wonder what you were currently doing.

Did you pursue something amazing, like medicine or law? Did you commit to a good job that paid well?

Had you moved on from the memory of him? Had you dated anyone in your school or neighborhood?

And what about him? He definitely failed to forget you.

In the end, your memory lingered in his mind, like a song on repeat. Sunghoon had your name written in his heart with permanent ink, occupying a specific part of his brain that continued to wander.

Then, when he finally debuted, he could finally come to your country.

Finally, he had a way to see you again. To find you at least. To see you one last time before he let's go of that precious memory.

As he was on tour inside a shopping mall, Sunghoon browsed through a selection of fragrances. He couldn't wait to try some, fascinated by the exclusive items only sold at this location.

As if by random chance, he looked out the window and saw the bright sun shining outside the hall. Children played, adults walked by, and the scene was warm and cozy.

In a split second, he caught sight of the most unexpected thing he had ever seen through the thin glass.

You, standing there, exchanging a call with someone on your phone.

Sunghoon couldn't believe it. It was you. Really you. After all those years of not seeing your face, he was shocked to recognize that familiar sliver of hair. Maybe it was the way you stood? The way you carried yourself? Or just your eyes?

He couldn't even fathom it. Even after examining every angle, only he could recognize you from afar.

As you began to walk away, Sunghoon let go of his bags and handed them to his manager, rushing after you in a split second.

The wind whipped around him as he pushed through time and distance. He needed to see if it was really you. If it was your eyes he recognized, your stature, or just the very essence of you.

In his mind, he was set on one thing: finding you.

With what seemed like a goose chase, Sunghoon finally caught up to you.

Thinking of a way to get your attention, he recalled all the things he had practiced saying if you ever met again.

"Hey! It's Sunghoon. The skater guy? ... No."

"Hi! I'm Sunghoon's Enhype... shit."

"Hello? I... I think I know you?" Coming up with a quick line, he tapped your shoulder and waited for a response, his heart racing.

As he waited for you to turn, he steeled himself. Until he saw your face.

Or not.

"Sunghoon!!" It was a fan who just happened to be there. Thinking he was so utterly screwed; he stood frozen as he watched people flood around him. Smiling sheepishly, he scanned the crowd, searching for you again.

Suddenly, a tug pulled him out like a fish from the wild crowd.

"Get your head down, you're too tall." A whispering tone spoke to him, as if only he could understand. He nodded, prioritizing his safety as he ducked down.

Slowly, the stranger led him to a nearby exit door. It was a closed space, away from prying eyes, secluded from the bustling crowd.

"What were you trying to do over there? Public execution?" Sunghoon turned his head upwards, finally catching his breath. In that moment, he stood stiff, planted like a log on the ground.

The familiar eyes, the stature, the confident aura... it was you.

You found him first.

"Remember m-"

Before he could finish, a tight hug enveloped your body as you spoke. It wasn't just any hug; it was a warm embrace that expressed how much he longed to see you again. Even for just a second, he would sacrifice it all to be with you.

He never knew he missed you this much. Way too much.

"I remember you." As cheesy as it sounded, he gripped onto you tightly, cherishing the moment he had yearned for so long.

He met that boy again.

He was here with you, again.

You could only smile back, hugging him just as tightly. There were no words needed; only the warmth you two shared at that moment.

He was happy. And so were you.

After that, you talked and talked for moments, forgetting everything else around you.

Sunghoon was definitely smiling as he learned about your life and your dreams.

And you? You were happy to see how well he was taking care of himself. He was definitely taller than last time, and—

"You became even more handsome. Or pretty?" You smiled, taking in his physicality. Sunghoon couldn’t help but brush his hand through his hair, flustered and shy.

"Even better than the girls in your school?" Sunghoon quoted, still having that engraved in his mind.

It took you a second to understand, before bursting out in laughter.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"You remember that?"

"Of course." He chuckled softly. He remembered every little detail, replaying it like a favorite movie in his head.

You looked at him, seeing his genuine affection take center stage.

"Even better than anyone else." The way you said it made Sunghoon’s heart race.

Caught off guard with your boldness, he had no hesitations. With a rush of sweet adrenaline, he grabbed your face and kissed you with all the warmth and affection he had kept inside.

It was a kiss he had reserved just for you, his first.

As he pulled away, a bright smile adorned his features, his laughter bubbling up in childish joy.

"That... that was definitely a first." You stammered, feeling a bit taken back to be kissed like that.

"Yeah, I... I have no idea what a kiss with a guy should be."

"Oh, so you’ve kissed girls before?"

"No." That was quite a response.

"No?" You thought. You seemed ... relieved at that too?

"Never kissed a girl." Sunghoon replied straightforwardly. "My mind was filled with thoughts of only you."

You laughed again, finding it absurd that he had such thoughts of you.

"Seriously?!"

"Really." Sunghoon smiled. "You were very persistent in my head, even after everything. Even when you weren't there."

You looked at him, seeing his genuine affection take center stage.

"Same." You hugged him again, resting your head on his broad shoulder. Sunghoon liked that, caressing your back as you enjoyed having your weight upon his frame.

You stayed like that for a while, reminiscing and rekindling the bond you both had formed.

One thing was clear: Sunghoon wasn’t going to forget you anytime soon.

And neither would you.

WASNT THAT JUST THE SWEETESTTTTT i wish i could do moreeeeee but alas my head couldn't pump out enough ... i will do more if i could later onnn.... pls enjoy tho!!!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

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sobbing ... can i squishie the cheekie 😭💙