First fic in a while, kinda nauseous about posting my writing again ngl, but it's also so nice to be back in a headspace where I actually have the capacity to write, so ya win some ya lose some ig
Hello lovies!! It's been a hot minute since I was active, I know 😓 but life has finally let up enough for me to feel like coming back to writing ☺️
Before I do tho, I wanted to just give a quick psa about some changes that'll be made to this blog moving forward:
♡ from now on this will be a strictly MDNI space, I really don't feel comfortable with minors interacting with me or my writing anymore, so blank and ageless blogs will be blocked
♡ I might start posting nsfw fics 👉🏻👈🏻
♡ I'll likely be taking down "Surviving a Romance Fantasy Novel for Dummies" 🥹 it's been so long since I initially planned and started that fic, so I genuinely can't see myself ever finishing it at this point, so it feels a bit ridiculous to have it up here. But idk, if anyone wants me to keep it up just send an ask, ik how bad it sucks to have a fic taken down 😭
I don't think this necessarily matters, since I doubt anyone actively follows this graveyard of a blog lol, but I just wanted to throw it out there just in case
Some snippets for a Forensic Pathologist Yunho au I have in my drafts for @sorryimananti-romantic (because of the comments she left on this post)
NOT proofread, edited, or cleaned ya'll this is a word vomit draft WHICH I MAY NEVER ACTUALLY FINISH please don't count on me getting round to it 😭
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Jeong Yunho was a man of science, at least that’s what he told himself when he closed the door to the incinerator in his basement. The smell of charred flesh burning his nostrils as yet another failed experiment was reduced to ashes.
It was honestly quite inconvenient, he mused, listening to the crunch of crisp freshly cut grass beneath his boots. Making his way to the lake that glistened just behind the manor he called home. Life would have been much simpler if he could just dispose of the bodies like any other dead rat caught in a trap, or feed them to the large black hunting dogs his cousin was so fond of.
But he had a gut feeling that the local community would enjoy such rumours a little too much if word reached their ears (which it most definitely would). And while Yunho didn’t truly care for the thoughts or feelings of any but his closest confidants, it would be quite a hassle if his already dubious reputation somehow fell further through the pits of hell.
As things stood, he was generally regarded by the people around him as either a renowned forensic pathologist and teacher at the local university, or an unholy heathen who desecrated the sanctity of the dead. He didn’t really fancy the idea of being branded a witch or a madman who needed to be hung at the gallows. Which was certainly the fate that awaited him if his experiments were revealed to the world before they were ready. Before he figured out the final piece of the puzzle and picked the lock to death’s door.
And so there he was, pouring the ashes of whats-his-name and whoever-he-was into a neatly dug hole a few feet away from the water. Stepping back as his groundskeeper dropped a baby willow tree into the space, letting out a tired huff when the weight finally dropped from his broad shoulders.
Yunho chuckled at the sound. “Getting old already are we, sannie?”
“Not a chance,” San panted, glaring at his eccentric employer, “I’m handing in my letter of resignation before I start getting old. Fuck knows what you’ll do to my corpse if I die on your watch.” He grimaced at the ground whilst he said it, shaking his head and running a consoling hand over the branches of the willow tree.
“Well you are a fine specimen…” Yunho murmured absently. Watching San run his fingers through the soft branches, tilting his head to the side in thought.
San only scoffed in response, ignoring his friend for the most part. Till Yunho broke the silence.
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“That,” Yunho said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of San’s own, “they can no longer hear nor feel… anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I do. We’re all just flesh and bone, San, nothing more and nothing less,” Yunho said, crossing his arms over his chest and assuming the same tone he used with his students when he was giving a lecture. “Life is simply the beating of your heart in your chest and blood in your veins. Once your body fails you, you’re gone.”
San laughed at that, much to Yunho’s confusion (and mild irritation). Shaking his head and picking up the shovel he’d laid out after digging the hole and filling in the space around the young tree. “I can see why all your experiments are failing, Doctor.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing can really be alive without a soul, Yunho. You’re failing because you think human life is as arbitrary and mundane as this willow or those invasive hyacynths growing over the lake… it’s not, you know… and if you took the time to take notice, you’d realise that.”
The Doctor scoffed, disappointed that his old friend was just spewing the usual philosophical drivel he’d been prone to indulging in since he’d first met him at age fifteen.
A scrawny beggar boy barely scraping by in back alleys and crowded markets. He’d been a hopeless romantic then too, always believing that better things would come, never agreeing with his companion’s insistence that it was alright to steal and cheat and lie a little to get by. It was foolish. He would never have made it out if Yunho’s groundskeeper hadn’t died (of natural causes mind you), allowing him to take pity on his friend and pull a few strings to get him the position.
San was wrong. Yunho was sure of it.
Until he wasn’t.
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It all started with a downpour and an accident.
The rain washing over the hillside was relentless, blurring the world around Yunho’s car and turning the road beneath his tired slick with water and mud. There was no way he could’ve seen you coming.
Tumbling down the side of the hill, black raincoat torn by branches and stones,
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He barely left the lab over the next few days. San damn near begging him to get him to emerge at mealtimes, worry growing heavier and heavier on his mind as his friend emerged covered in blood and drenched in the sickly sweet smell of decomposing flesh. A wild, distracted look in his eyes. Substances of odd colors staining his clothes and skin.
“Her heart’s still beating San, it shouldn’t be doing that.”
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Yunho sat with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the clumps of bloodied sawdust gathered around his shoes, listening to the steady breathing above him.
He’d done it.
He wasn’t sure how.
Your heart had definitely stopped by the time he placed you on the metal table. He’d had specimens that had died within the hour before. And he’d filled their veins with the same pearly white liquid now flowing through yours. None of this was new. You should’ve died and been buried somewhere beneath a willow tree just like the rest.
Yet there you lay. Defying his expectations every time your chest rose after caving to each exhale. Skin cold, but your heartbeat clear in the pulse that beat under his fingers every time he reached up to check.
You were alive.
He’d won.
✦•···················•✦•···················•✦
Lowkey one of my favorite Ateez authors who wrote the story that is THE Yunho fic imo (go read it and yell at her about how amazing it is pls) asking to see one of my drafts has me tweakin out 😭 I'm not nearly as skilled a writer as you but really hope you like it yumi!!
rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the titles that most intrigue them and then post a little snippet or tell us about them.
Tbh I don't think most people on this blog are even aware that I occasionally write?... but here:
1. Summer in Avonlea (riwoo)
2. Forensic Pathologist Yunho
3. Fae AU (hongjoong)
4. Dino (showing up)
5. Leehan little mermaid AU
6. 3am ramblings abt fox hybrid myungjae
7. Aliennnnnns
8. Isekai au (revisions?) (Losing it)
9. Deity au
No pressure tags: @everyonewooeverywhere @beenbaanbuun @kitten4sannie @sailorsoons @thecarnivaloflies
⋆˙⟡ I forgot who said it or where I even heard it from, but I remember seeing a compilation of clips where Wonwoo would seek out his members, laying on top of them or leaning on them. These clips were paired with text explaining that one of the members had said that Wonwoo is like a cat. If you just wait, he’ll come to you when he wants attention.
⋆˙⟡ Based on this, and what I’ve observed of him in my short time as a baby carat, I believe it’s safe to say that Wonwoo would be the type of person who would really value quality time.
⋆˙⟡ You may not always wake up at the same time, but your morning routines slot comfortably around one another. Moving through each other’s space with an ease that can only come with familiarity. He swears it throws his whole day off if he’s deprived of your presence in the kitchen, his hand sliding over your waist when he moves around your sleepy form. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head just because he can (and because he wants to hear your giggles).
⋆˙⟡ The rest of the day forces the two of you apart. Classes, work, family matters, doctor’s appointments, meet-ups with friends; it’s never consistent. But no matter what his plans are–whether his day is marked by crisp blue skies or sudden torrential downpours and broken umbrella–his favorite part of it will always be coming home to you.
⋆˙⟡ It’s nothing grand, really. He walks through that door and looks around, pulling his shoes off with a groan, shedding the day in layers. Jacket. Socks. Bag. Watch. All of them gradually dropped in their designated spots as he searches for you.
⋆˙⟡ More often than not, he’ll find you in the game room, curled into your pink and white chair with a half finished bowl of your favorite snack off to the side. He leans against the doorframe and watches you for a moment. Feeling the last layer of tension roll off his shoulders as the glow from your fairy lights makes you look so soft and comfortable.
⋆˙⟡ When he finally snaps out of his you-induced stupor, he walks over to greet you. Turns your chair a little so he can give you a little kiss on the forehead, muttering that he needs to go wash up, quietly asking if you’ve had dinner.
⋆˙⟡ Once he’s warm and clean and fuzzy round the edges, the rest of your night goes more or less as it always does.
⋆˙⟡ Your desks are placed right next to each other, a smaller table which serves as a snack station dividing the space neatly.
⋆˙⟡ Playing your favorite games side by side.
⋆˙⟡ Laughing and throwing the small plushies you have lined up on your desk when you happen to be playing one together.
⊹₊⟡⋆ Sometimes you’ll sigh and shut down your computer, tapping Wonwoo over the snack table to get his attention. One look at you and he knows exactly what you need, adjusting in his seat so you can slide onto his lap and rest your head on his shoulder, listening to the faint sounds of clashing metal and dramatic music leaking through his headset as his heart thrums against your cheek.
⋆˙⟡ There are days when the reverse happens. And its you who has to shift to accommodate the chair rolled in next to yours as Wonwoo drapes himself against your side, quietly watching you play as his hands trace sleepy patterns against your skin.
⋆˙⟡ But there are days where the two of you just exist, too. Where you’ll curl up on a beanbag behind him reading or working on a project. Where he’ll lay sprawled out on the floor with his laptop, catching up with the anime you’d introduced him to last week.
⋆˙⟡ These evenings mean everything to Wonwoo. It scares him a little to admit how much he’s come to rely on them to get through the day. Because sure, you’re a great listener, and so is he. You both talk things out and vent to each other often. But not every problem needs to be spoken about. Not every burden and heartache can be soothed with words. Wonwoo knows this. He used to believe that learning to live with those small wounds and bruises was just part and parcel with being alive. He’d accepted that.
⋆˙⟡ Until he met you.
⋆˙⟡ Something about being with you. Being near you. Holding you against his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline… something about you felt like home. And he knew not-so-deep-down that he’d be lost without you now he’d had a taste of what it meant for his heart to feel light and whole and so full of affection he worried sometimes it might burst.
⋆˙⟡ He couldn’t face a single day without you.
⋆˙⟡ Lucky for him, you felt the same.
✦•···················•✦•···················•✦
Hihiii~ back from the dead yet again to post this little drabble (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) might make a habit of it since longer fics seem to drive me to the brink of insanity lately, and I really do wanna write and post more (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)
first time writing for wonwoo or seventeen in general haha, so would love to hear your thoughts and feedback ฅᨐฅ
genre: sickly sweet fluff, soft angst with a happy ending, coffee shop au?
content warnings: none
summary: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...
notes: Hey ya'll! I'm finally back and clawing my way out of that writing slump~ This fic was purely self indulgent and the past/present tense is a little all over the place, but oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
Please support your authors, likes are sweet and all but it's reblogs, comments, and asks that give us the will and confidence to keep writing and sharing our work <3
Everything below the cut is NOT proofread
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“Forever”
In hindsight, it was a fickle promise.
Though born into existence to encompass eternity, the word had lost its meaning somewhere along the line.
“Oh it’s been forever! How are you?”
“Traffic was so bad, it took forever to get here”
“Oh that? It happened forever ago, I wouldn’t remember”
Its meaning changed and shifted as surely as the ripple of dunes in a desert.
A minute.
An hour.
Months.
Days.
In the case of you and the person you’d called your soulmate, forever had been all of eight years.
Eight years spent holding their hand. Kneeling down to tie the shoelace they never secured quite right. Sharing whispered conversations in the dim lights of orange streetlamps bleeding through frosted glass panes. Building futures where you moved in together, your smiles greeting each other after every long day, your arms always open and waiting for them to fall into.
You’d never planned for a life without them in it.
Not once had you truly believed it possible for them to leave.
So it was only natural that when they did, they took a part of you with them. The part of you that once believed in promises like “I’ll be by your side, always.”
Promises of “forever” or plans for the future had become intolerable. Feeling like a lie. A scam. Insincerity on your lips even when you wanted more than anything to believe it. Something that had once seemed so beautiful and bright in your eyes now filling your chest with grief. The weight of it pressing down on your heart, churning and swirling in waves so high and tumultuous they lapped against the sides of your throat so painfully there were days when something as simple as breathing burned.
You were sure you’d never be able to build a connection that strong with another human soul.
That was of course until you met him.
“Here’s your order”
Kang Yeosang was a quiet man. Offering you no more than a smile and your order every morning when you dropped by the cafe on campus.
You’d smile back, thank him, and get on with your day.
It became routine, the familiar smell of coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies embracing you for a few moments as you steadied yourself, mentally preparing for the day ahead. The sound of the vintage bell above the shop door almost hypnotic in the way it caused your whole body to relax. The weight lodged in your chest and throat ebbing. Leaving behind the barren, still peace of low tide.
Your commitment to this ritual and your usual order was so resolute that the pretty barista no longer asked what you wanted, realising early on that you deliberately came to the cafe early because you enjoyed the quiet.
As long as you never asked for anything different, which you never did, he would acknowledge you with a nod when you walked in before wordlessly moving round behind the counter to prepare your drink. Allowing you to bask in blissful silence for a few extra minutes.
It was nice.
”It’s on the house”
Your careful monotony was broken for the first time on a rainy Wednesday morning. You’d missed your first class of the day by sleeping through your alarm, woken up late, and neglected to bring an umbrella in your rush to leave your dorm.
Voices prickle over your skin in the already crowded cafe, clusters of people looking to escape the damp and cold surrounding you on all sides despite the fact that you’d wedged yourself into a small table by the large glass windows, knee bouncing in agitation as you stared out at the steely grey sky. The rain on the way to the cafe had been mild, barely more than a drizzle, but whatever was brewing promised to be much, much worse, enough to force you to seriously consider making a trip back to your room to get an umbrella.
But that would mean more time lost, more walking, potentially arriving to class much later than you’d intended, which really wouldn’t be so bad but it was still so frustrating and-
“y/n?”
The soft call of your name catches you off guard, the deep, velvety voice cutting cleanly through the chatter despite the caution laced through his tone. You look up, familiar, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, as though he was the one who should have been startled. “Your order,” he explains, setting down a to-go cup and a small paper bag.
It takes you a moment to notice the addition, peering inside the bag and finding four small chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. “I didn’t order this,” you say, holding out the bag to him, confusion and irritation creasing your brow at yet another unexpected change.
“Oh! I know…” he says, pushing the cookies back towards you, “it’s… it’s on the house.”
His ears flush red as he says it, a lisp you hadn’t noticed before creeping into his voice when he hesitates, his words coming out a bit like a question. An offer. A hand reaching out and asking ’is this okay?’
You pause, frozen in place for a moment, a blush creeping up your neck to match his own. “Ah… well… thank you, yeosang.”
He smiles, pushing back against the flurry of butterflies coming to life in his chest.
You remembered his name.
He wants to hear you say it again, his mind already replaying how sweet it sounded coming off your lips on loop, echoing through his skull so that when he goes over the scene again in his head he can’t be sure whether or not his next words came out quite right.
“Of course, what are friends for.”
From then on, there was always a bag with a different sweet treat tucked in beside your order, and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the surprise.
”I’m happy to be spending time with you right now”
Is what yeosang says on all your dates.
You’re not sure how exactly it happened. When small talk turned to sitting and sharing your morning beverages. When study dates became actual dates spread out over picnic blankets on the beach. When trips art exhibitions and bazaars shifted into walking hand in hand under the light of bright shop signs and flickering lampposts, a large reusable grocery bag filled with the ingredients needed to make pasta hanging off his shoulder.
It’s barely a date. But he insists that the impulsive decision to leave his house at 8:30pm to join you at the grocery store may as well be.
Because he was with you.
And that was all he needed.
Free hand wrapped loosely around your own, watching fondly as you tiptoe to avoid the cracks in the tiles.
He’d asked you to be his that night. Perched on a swing set that hung far too low for his legs. Lips parting slightly when you leaned over to swipe at them, chocolate ice cream smeared across his skin. You were fussing, telling him that he shouldn’t be such a messy eater at the grown age of twenty one, when his expression made your words come up short. An open, searching fondness in his gaze that made your heart swell painfully against your ribcage.
You knew that look.
That was exactly how you used to look at them.
Yeosang seemed to sense your hesitation, placing his hand over yours on his cheek before you could back away. There was no force in his grip. No pressure holding your hand in place. You could have retracted it easily if you wished to. But you didn’t. The confusing ache in your chest craving more of his skin against yours.
“Is this okay?” he’d asked, allowing your joined hands to drop, hanging in the space between you.
You could only nod. Wanting to highlight the fact that he’d been holding your hand for the better part of an hour just before you’d sat down to enjoy your ice cream, but opted not to when you found you couldn’t quite trust your ability to speak without your voice shaking.
Yeosang wasn't always the best at reading people. He'd discovered very early on in life that smiles and bright voices didn't necessarily come with good intentions, and it left him wondering if he'd simply been foolish. Unsure of whether or not it was his own fault that he'd misunderstood and gotten hurt in the process.
He often felt lost when it came to navigating the emotions of those around him. Confusion swirling in the undercurrent of nearly all his relationships… but not with you. He was never unsure about you.
Admittedly, he couldn't really say he'd fallen in love with you at first sight or anything (though he wished he could've). When you'd walked into that cafe and fumbled through your tote for your wallet he hadn't thought much about it at all, smiling patiently and going about business as usual. He doubted he'd even remember your name. But you were there again the next day, and the day after that (you brought a backpack instead of the tote with a cat on it), twice on Thursday (your hair was an absolute mess on your second visit), and on Friday you stayed till late, body folded over scattered notes and highlighters (it seemed like you had a habit of tugging your own hair when you were stressed).
With each visit, he began noticing you more and more, till he found himself wondering what had happened to upset you, or what made your smile seem brighter that morning.
It took some time (and a lot of teasing from Wooyoung and Jongho) for him to realise that he liked you. That no, he did not pay that much attention to all his regulars. And then it took a little longer (and a little encouragement from Seonghwa) for him to muster up the courage to actually approach you. A part of him expected that maybe, once you both became closer, you'd start to close yourself off. That the same confusion he'd come to expect from everyone but Wooyoung and San would come creeping into his mind when you found reason to hide how you felt.
But that day never came to pass. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised to find that the more he knew about you, the easier you were to decipher. Even if you refused to say anything, your lips pressed into a thin line when you were upset. No matter how many times you smoothed your expression over, your brow always creased with worry when you felt anxious. You crossed your legs when you were comfortable, and sat up straight and folded your hands in your lap when you weren't. None of these things changed as he got closer to you, and the closer his heart moved to yours the more he understood.
More often than not, he knew almost instinctively what you needed. And on the few occasions where he was unsure, he knew he could ask, because you could never find it in you to lie to a person you loved.
So he sat with you in silence for a while.
Tracing abstract patterns over your knuckles.
Allowing the steady trill of crickets and buzz of cicadas to fill the silence.
Knowing the negative space was something you needed, even if he wasn’t always sure why.
He waited patiently for the sound of your breathing to deepen, your hand relaxing in his own, your body unconsciously leaning closer to him before he spoke. “Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”
You chuckled slightly in response, dragging the heel of your shoe over the cracked rubber floor of the playground. “I should be the one thanking you, how would I ever make it home with such a heavy burden in my hands,” you'd joked, gesturing to the plastic bag settled on his lap.
“Oh but of course, you're just a girl after all,” he said with a serious little pout.
“I really am, I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner or carry big heavy things like parsley and blocks of cheese,” you tried your best to mimic his sombre expression back at him, but failed miserably, the two of you breaking into childish giggles as soon as your eyes met.
You took a few breaths to calm down, looking up to find that Yeosang was already smiling at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears from laughing too hard, that same fondness glittering under the warm streetlights.
He brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand over and placing another on your wrist.
“My girl…” he whispered, though it sounded almost like a question.
You didn't immediately respond, mind stuttering as the painful swell of your heart faded into something much different, something more gentle and fragile.
Unfortunately for you both, Yeosang mistook your surprise for hesitation, backtracking quickly. “Sorry, I just mean… I'm… only if you want to be, we don't-”
“Can you say it again?”
“Huh?” he'd blinked in confusion, and you were smiling. A slow, giddy sort of smile that made him thankful for the low light of the park.
It was your turn to bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his racing pulse. “I want my boy to call me his again.”
Yeosang was sure he might implode.
”But you’re here all the time, we might as well move in together at this rate”
Panic sets in when he says it.
You wish it wouldn’t.
The fear that had been digging its way into your thoughts since you’d agreed to be his crawling over your skin, curling into an uncomfortable knot in your throat.
You try to smile when he turns back round, try to remember what the two of you had been discussing when he placed the popcorn in the microwave, but your mind is moving too fast, pulling you further and further into yourself before you can fight it.
“My love? You with me baby?”
His voice calls you back. Just like that time in the cafe, it reaches you easily through the overlapping voices in your head, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay… just tired,” you dismiss easily, placing a hand over his and offering him a strained smile that leaves him thoroughly unconvinced.
He purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before deciding on an answer. “What… what kind of tired?”
“Uhm… regular? Tired?” you try.
“Nono, not that, I mean… body tired? Brain tired? People tired?”
Oh.
You realise what he’s trying to ask, and the answer that immediately comes to mind, clear even in your muddled state almost makes you giggle despite yourself. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders and clasping them behind his neck, pulling him a little closer to you. “I’m a little people tired, it’s been a long week, but I’m not you tired, sangie, I want you to stay.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, hands coming to rest where they’d made a home for themselves on your hips, “we can always raincheck movie night if you’re not feeling up for it you know…”
“I know, my love, thank you,” you say, resting your forehead on his chest, timing your breathing to his heartbeat, the knot in your throat slowly unwinding with each exhale, “I’m really alright though… just happy to be with you right now.”
Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “That’s my line you know…”
“Oh I’m sorry,” you huff playfully, “I didn’t realise that saying it back was copyright infringement.”
“Hmnnn, that doesn’t make you any less guilty though, now does it?” he hums, wrapping his arms more securely round your waist and slowly swaying your bodies from side to side. “There’s a penalty for this sort of thing you know.”
You snort, tipping your head up to look at him incredulously. “And what might that be, good sir?”
“For a cutie like you? Mmmmmnnn… a dance?”
You gasp, batting your eyelashes in mock horror. “And what if I say it again? What awful sum would I have to pay then?”
He pretends to think for a moment, the two of you now shuffling and swaying in time to music no one else could hear. “Perhaps… a kiss?” he says, head tipping to the side in a way he knows you can't resist.
You tut, shaking your head and sighing defeatedly. “I suppose you leave me no choice then, I’m afraid I must confess that I am immeasurably happy in this moment, I’m so very desperately happy to be with you.”
You both manage to keep up a serious facade for all of two seconds before bursting into fits of giggles, clinging onto each other for dear life.
Once you both calm down, yeosang presses another kiss to your hairline, holding your body close to his, wishing he could somehow be even closer so his heart could rest beside yours even when heaven took his soul.
1. All of the fanfictions that are below are not mine in any way, the owners are tagged with the fanfictions.
2. Almost all the Brief Descriptions are from the writers themselves.
3. Thank you writers for writing these Masterpieces!!
4. I love details... Maybe a little too much 😔
List
🔥-Smut
🥀-Angst
💕-Fluff
🌟- My Personal Favorites
💕🥀 "Forever" is compromised of "Now's" by @sleep-drunk-kitten
Brief Description: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...
genre: sickly sweet fluff, soft angst with a happy ending, coffee shop au?
content warnings: none
summary: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...
notes: Hey ya'll! I'm finally back and clawing my way out of that writing slump~ This fic was purely self indulgent and the past/present tense is a little all over the place, but oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
Please support your authors, likes are sweet and all but it's reblogs, comments, and asks that give us the will and confidence to keep writing and sharing our work <3
Everything below the cut is NOT proofread
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
“Forever”
In hindsight, it was a fickle promise.
Though born into existence to encompass eternity, the word had lost its meaning somewhere along the line.
“Oh it’s been forever! How are you?”
“Traffic was so bad, it took forever to get here”
“Oh that? It happened forever ago, I wouldn’t remember”
Its meaning changed and shifted as surely as the ripple of dunes in a desert.
A minute.
An hour.
Months.
Days.
In the case of you and the person you’d called your soulmate, forever had been all of eight years.
Eight years spent holding their hand. Kneeling down to tie the shoelace they never secured quite right. Sharing whispered conversations in the dim lights of orange streetlamps bleeding through frosted glass panes. Building futures where you moved in together, your smiles greeting each other after every long day, your arms always open and waiting for them to fall into.
You’d never planned for a life without them in it.
Not once had you truly believed it possible for them to leave.
So it was only natural that when they did, they took a part of you with them. The part of you that once believed in promises like “I’ll be by your side, always.”
Promises of “forever” or plans for the future had become intolerable. Feeling like a lie. A scam. Insincerity on your lips even when you wanted more than anything to believe it. Something that had once seemed so beautiful and bright in your eyes now filling your chest with grief. The weight of it pressing down on your heart, churning and swirling in waves so high and tumultuous they lapped against the sides of your throat so painfully there were days when something as simple as breathing burned.
You were sure you’d never be able to build a connection that strong with another human soul.
That was of course until you met him.
“Here’s your order”
Kang Yeosang was a quiet man. Offering you no more than a smile and your order every morning when you dropped by the cafe on campus.
You’d smile back, thank him, and get on with your day.
It became routine, the familiar smell of coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies embracing you for a few moments as you steadied yourself, mentally preparing for the day ahead. The sound of the vintage bell above the shop door almost hypnotic in the way it caused your whole body to relax. The weight lodged in your chest and throat ebbing. Leaving behind the barren, still peace of low tide.
Your commitment to this ritual and your usual order was so resolute that the pretty barista no longer asked what you wanted, realising early on that you deliberately came to the cafe early because you enjoyed the quiet.
As long as you never asked for anything different, which you never did, he would acknowledge you with a nod when you walked in before wordlessly moving round behind the counter to prepare your drink. Allowing you to bask in blissful silence for a few extra minutes.
It was nice.
”It’s on the house”
Your careful monotony was broken for the first time on a rainy Wednesday morning. You’d missed your first class of the day by sleeping through your alarm, woken up late, and neglected to bring an umbrella in your rush to leave your dorm.
Voices prickle over your skin in the already crowded cafe, clusters of people looking to escape the damp and cold surrounding you on all sides despite the fact that you’d wedged yourself into a small table by the large glass windows, knee bouncing in agitation as you stared out at the steely grey sky. The rain on the way to the cafe had been mild, barely more than a drizzle, but whatever was brewing promised to be much, much worse, enough to force you to seriously consider making a trip back to your room to get an umbrella.
But that would mean more time lost, more walking, potentially arriving to class much later than you’d intended, which really wouldn’t be so bad but it was still so frustrating and-
“y/n?”
The soft call of your name catches you off guard, the deep, velvety voice cutting cleanly through the chatter despite the caution laced through his tone. You look up, familiar, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, as though he was the one who should have been startled. “Your order,” he explains, setting down a to-go cup and a small paper bag.
It takes you a moment to notice the addition, peering inside the bag and finding four small chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. “I didn’t order this,” you say, holding out the bag to him, confusion and irritation creasing your brow at yet another unexpected change.
“Oh! I know…” he says, pushing the cookies back towards you, “it’s… it’s on the house.”
His ears flush red as he says it, a lisp you hadn’t noticed before creeping into his voice when he hesitates, his words coming out a bit like a question. An offer. A hand reaching out and asking ’is this okay?’
You pause, frozen in place for a moment, a blush creeping up your neck to match his own. “Ah… well… thank you, yeosang.”
He smiles, pushing back against the flurry of butterflies coming to life in his chest.
You remembered his name.
He wants to hear you say it again, his mind already replaying how sweet it sounded coming off your lips on loop, echoing through his skull so that when he goes over the scene again in his head he can’t be sure whether or not his next words came out quite right.
“Of course, what are friends for.”
From then on, there was always a bag with a different sweet treat tucked in beside your order, and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the surprise.
”I’m happy to be spending time with you right now”
Is what yeosang says on all your dates.
You’re not sure how exactly it happened. When small talk turned to sitting and sharing your morning beverages. When study dates became actual dates spread out over picnic blankets on the beach. When trips art exhibitions and bazaars shifted into walking hand in hand under the light of bright shop signs and flickering lampposts, a large reusable grocery bag filled with the ingredients needed to make pasta hanging off his shoulder.
It’s barely a date. But he insists that the impulsive decision to leave his house at 8:30pm to join you at the grocery store may as well be.
Because he was with you.
And that was all he needed.
Free hand wrapped loosely around your own, watching fondly as you tiptoe to avoid the cracks in the tiles.
He’d asked you to be his that night. Perched on a swing set that hung far too low for his legs. Lips parting slightly when you leaned over to swipe at them, chocolate ice cream smeared across his skin. You were fussing, telling him that he shouldn’t be such a messy eater at the grown age of twenty one, when his expression made your words come up short. An open, searching fondness in his gaze that made your heart swell painfully against your ribcage.
You knew that look.
That was exactly how you used to look at them.
Yeosang seemed to sense your hesitation, placing his hand over yours on his cheek before you could back away. There was no force in his grip. No pressure holding your hand in place. You could have retracted it easily if you wished to. But you didn’t. The confusing ache in your chest craving more of his skin against yours.
“Is this okay?” he’d asked, allowing your joined hands to drop, hanging in the space between you.
You could only nod. Wanting to highlight the fact that he’d been holding your hand for the better part of an hour just before you’d sat down to enjoy your ice cream, but opted not to when you found you couldn’t quite trust your ability to speak without your voice shaking.
Yeosang wasn't always the best at reading people. He'd discovered very early on in life that smiles and bright voices didn't necessarily come with good intentions, and it left him wondering if he'd simply been foolish. Unsure of whether or not it was his own fault that he'd misunderstood and gotten hurt in the process.
He often felt lost when it came to navigating the emotions of those around him. Confusion swirling in the undercurrent of nearly all his relationships… but not with you. He was never unsure about you.
Admittedly, he couldn't really say he'd fallen in love with you at first sight or anything (though he wished he could've). When you'd walked into that cafe and fumbled through your tote for your wallet he hadn't thought much about it at all, smiling patiently and going about business as usual. He doubted he'd even remember your name. But you were there again the next day, and the day after that (you brought a backpack instead of the tote with a cat on it), twice on Thursday (your hair was an absolute mess on your second visit), and on Friday you stayed till late, body folded over scattered notes and highlighters (it seemed like you had a habit of tugging your own hair when you were stressed).
With each visit, he began noticing you more and more, till he found himself wondering what had happened to upset you, or what made your smile seem brighter that morning.
It took some time (and a lot of teasing from Wooyoung and Jongho) for him to realise that he liked you. That no, he did not pay that much attention to all his regulars. And then it took a little longer (and a little encouragement from Seonghwa) for him to muster up the courage to actually approach you. A part of him expected that maybe, once you both became closer, you'd start to close yourself off. That the same confusion he'd come to expect from everyone but Wooyoung and San would come creeping into his mind when you found reason to hide how you felt.
But that day never came to pass. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised to find that the more he knew about you, the easier you were to decipher. Even if you refused to say anything, your lips pressed into a thin line when you were upset. No matter how many times you smoothed your expression over, your brow always creased with worry when you felt anxious. You crossed your legs when you were comfortable, and sat up straight and folded your hands in your lap when you weren't. None of these things changed as he got closer to you, and the closer his heart moved to yours the more he understood.
More often than not, he knew almost instinctively what you needed. And on the few occasions where he was unsure, he knew he could ask, because you could never find it in you to lie to a person you loved.
So he sat with you in silence for a while.
Tracing abstract patterns over your knuckles.
Allowing the steady trill of crickets and buzz of cicadas to fill the silence.
Knowing the negative space was something you needed, even if he wasn’t always sure why.
He waited patiently for the sound of your breathing to deepen, your hand relaxing in his own, your body unconsciously leaning closer to him before he spoke. “Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”
You chuckled slightly in response, dragging the heel of your shoe over the cracked rubber floor of the playground. “I should be the one thanking you, how would I ever make it home with such a heavy burden in my hands,” you'd joked, gesturing to the plastic bag settled on his lap.
“Oh but of course, you're just a girl after all,” he said with a serious little pout.
“I really am, I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner or carry big heavy things like parsley and blocks of cheese,” you tried your best to mimic his sombre expression back at him, but failed miserably, the two of you breaking into childish giggles as soon as your eyes met.
You took a few breaths to calm down, looking up to find that Yeosang was already smiling at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears from laughing too hard, that same fondness glittering under the warm streetlights.
He brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand over and placing another on your wrist.
“My girl…” he whispered, though it sounded almost like a question.
You didn't immediately respond, mind stuttering as the painful swell of your heart faded into something much different, something more gentle and fragile.
Unfortunately for you both, Yeosang mistook your surprise for hesitation, backtracking quickly. “Sorry, I just mean… I'm… only if you want to be, we don't-”
“Can you say it again?”
“Huh?” he'd blinked in confusion, and you were smiling. A slow, giddy sort of smile that made him thankful for the low light of the park.
It was your turn to bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his racing pulse. “I want my boy to call me his again.”
Yeosang was sure he might implode.
”But you’re here all the time, we might as well move in together at this rate”
Panic sets in when he says it.
You wish it wouldn’t.
The fear that had been digging its way into your thoughts since you’d agreed to be his crawling over your skin, curling into an uncomfortable knot in your throat.
You try to smile when he turns back round, try to remember what the two of you had been discussing when he placed the popcorn in the microwave, but your mind is moving too fast, pulling you further and further into yourself before you can fight it.
“My love? You with me baby?”
His voice calls you back. Just like that time in the cafe, it reaches you easily through the overlapping voices in your head, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay… just tired,” you dismiss easily, placing a hand over his and offering him a strained smile that leaves him thoroughly unconvinced.
He purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before deciding on an answer. “What… what kind of tired?”
“Uhm… regular? Tired?” you try.
“Nono, not that, I mean… body tired? Brain tired? People tired?”
Oh.
You realise what he’s trying to ask, and the answer that immediately comes to mind, clear even in your muddled state almost makes you giggle despite yourself. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders and clasping them behind his neck, pulling him a little closer to you. “I’m a little people tired, it’s been a long week, but I’m not you tired, sangie, I want you to stay.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, hands coming to rest where they’d made a home for themselves on your hips, “we can always raincheck movie night if you’re not feeling up for it you know…”
“I know, my love, thank you,” you say, resting your forehead on his chest, timing your breathing to his heartbeat, the knot in your throat slowly unwinding with each exhale, “I’m really alright though… just happy to be with you right now.”
Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “That’s my line you know…”
“Oh I’m sorry,” you huff playfully, “I didn’t realise that saying it back was copyright infringement.”
“Hmnnn, that doesn’t make you any less guilty though, now does it?” he hums, wrapping his arms more securely round your waist and slowly swaying your bodies from side to side. “There’s a penalty for this sort of thing you know.”
You snort, tipping your head up to look at him incredulously. “And what might that be, good sir?”
“For a cutie like you? Mmmmmnnn… a dance?”
You gasp, batting your eyelashes in mock horror. “And what if I say it again? What awful sum would I have to pay then?”
He pretends to think for a moment, the two of you now shuffling and swaying in time to music no one else could hear. “Perhaps… a kiss?” he says, head tipping to the side in a way he knows you can't resist.
You tut, shaking your head and sighing defeatedly. “I suppose you leave me no choice then, I’m afraid I must confess that I am immeasurably happy in this moment, I’m so very desperately happy to be with you.”
You both manage to keep up a serious facade for all of two seconds before bursting into fits of giggles, clinging onto each other for dear life.
Once you both calm down, yeosang presses another kiss to your hairline, holding your body close to his, wishing he could somehow be even closer so his heart could rest beside yours even when heaven took his soul.
Just made myself cry a bit with an angst-ish tooth rottingly fluffy yeosang fic I wrote a few months back and completely forgot about 😭 I hated it so much at the time but lowkey it's kinda cute..... should I post it? 👀
I'm sorry to announce that for the foreseeable future, I will not be updating/writing for Surviving a Romance Fantasy Novel. A lot's happened in my personal life since I started that story, and I'm afraid I just don't have the motivation to continue updating it for the time being, nor am I sure if I ever will.
I'm so sorry to everyone who showed support for that story :(( I really am quite sad to be putting it away for now, but I'd rather take a step back and offer myself some breathing room than half ass my writing and give you all something bland and unreadable. I hope you can all understand 🩷
genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship
content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!
summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...
notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD
I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^
Everything below the cut is NOT proofread
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The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on.
9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work.
Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals.
A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you.
Waiting.
Waiting.
So much waiting.
After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt.
‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’
Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning.
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“What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you.
“I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”
He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach.
You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly.
But still.
In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little.
It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell.
It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide.
“I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”
You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”
“Okay.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll make it home on time tonight.”
His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever.
It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”
“Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.
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The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly.
It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix.
Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise.
’Oh’
It was his birthday.
That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time.
Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night.
’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.
’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day.
’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.
The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it.
He’d really gone and done it now.
He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot.
He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted.
But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night.
And now… now you weren’t there.
He’d left you alone.
He’d left you alone too long and you were gone.
You were gone.
You were gone and-
’Oh.’
There you were.
The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.
He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision.
You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up.
Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place.
“Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs.
Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”
Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?”
“Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears.
“Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?”
“Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.
You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real.
He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should.
But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy.
You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it.
“I’m sorry, (y/n).”
“What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”
“No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you.
Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because…
“My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you.
Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling.
“Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”
“I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”
“That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”
Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better.
Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further.
It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…”
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It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.
Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms.
He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…
Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love
Pink Camellias: longing for you
Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me
