still a kiwi

First Song First Love

Seungmin x Reader | fluff, karaoke, soft rizz

🎤 synopsis: You didn’t expect anything life-changing when your friends dragged you to a chaotic karaoke night. But then Seungmin walked in—quiet, sharp-eyed, devastatingly charming—and sang a ballad that made the room go silent. An unexpected duet, a shared laugh, a late-night conversation… and suddenly, you’re not just singing for fun. You’re singing your way into something real. Maybe even love. A soft, slow-burning story about spark at first sight, stolen moments between fame and real life, and the boy who gave you a Puppy.M plushie—and a kiss you’ll never forget.

💌a/n: this was supposed to be a little karaoke fic and then seungmin opened his mouth and suddenly we’re kissing in a café with a plushie in our lap and a crush in our chest. i don’t know what to tell you. the man sang ONE (1) emotional ballad and everyone folded. including me. especially me. please imagine he sent you a voice memo at 1AM and now your pillow smells like delusion and vocal line supremacy. thanks for reading 💘 ps. reblog so that Puppy.M can haunt you

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the diver.

🎶Now Playing: "Polaroid Love" – Enhypen

the white lotus ⋆ ˚｡⋆ chapter two

✧ the universe has other plans ✧

wc: 10k

pairing: personal assistant!oc x family reunion attendee!hyunjin

synopsis: Gemma Parker has spent years keeping things under control -- her career, her emotions, her impossible boss. But when a work trip takes her to a luxury resort in Italy, she finds herself slipping into a world of salty air, stolen moments, and lingering glances with a boy who sees right through her carefully built walls. Hyunjin is charming, frustrating, and absolutely not a part of her plan -- but as the trip stretches on and their paths keep crossing, Gemma starts to wonder if she's been chasing the wrong dream all along. Because sometimes, the best stories aren't the ones you plan -- they're the ones you never see coming.

a/n: chapter two is finally here! featuring a special guest... a lot happens in this chapter. hope you enjoy, all feedback is appreciated! ♡

masterlist | dividers by @strangergraphics

The first thing I saw when I blinked awake was a blurry screen illuminating my pillow. I groaned, squinting at my phone, which was still open to last night’s reading material: ‘Sea Turtles & Their Incredible Journey: How These Resilient Creatures Return to Their Birthplace Against All Odds.’ The words swam in and out of focus as I registered where I was – Italy, luxury resort, and very much not at home. Right.

For a split second, my body tensed, and memories from the night before filtered in slowly, piece by piece. The beach. The red flashlight. Hyunjin. Hyunjin, standing too close, looking at me like he could read every thought in my head. The way I let myself wonder what it would be like if he –

I sat up abruptly, shoving my hair out of my face like that would somehow clear my mind. 

“Nope. We’re not doing this.” I locked my phone and tossed it onto the nightstand like it had personally betrayed me. The last thing I needed was to start my morning spiraling over a boy I barely knew. A boy I should absolutely not be thinking about. A boy who was way too charming for someone who spent his nights searching for baby turtles.

are ppl thirsting over him yet like surely someone has added him to their hear me out list

the white lotus ⋆ ˚｡⋆

✧announcement & masterlist✧

pairing: personal assistant!oc x family reunion attendee!hyunjin

synopsis: Gemma Parker has spent years keeping things under control -- her career, her emotions, her impossible boss. But when a work trip takes her to a luxury resort in Italy, she finds herself slipping into a world of salty air, stolen moments, and lingering glances with a boy who sees right through her carefully built walls. Hyunjin is charming, frustrating, and absolutely not a part of her plan -- but as the trip stretches on and their paths keep crossing, Gemma starts to wonder if she's been chasing the wrong dream all along. Because sometimes, the best stories aren't the ones you plan -- they're the ones you never see coming.

a/n: hello my loves! i have been cooking this concept in my brain for a long time and i'm finally ready to unveil chapter one. this story is heavily inspired by the HBO series 'The White Lotus.' i have a lot in store for these two so i do hope you enjoy. any feedback and support is appreciated!

the white lotus ⋆ ˚｡⋆ chapter one

✧ the art of being invisible ✧

wc: 7.5k

pairing: personal assistant!oc x family reunion attendee!hyunjin

synopsis: Gemma Parker has spent years keeping things under control -- her career, her emotions, her impossible boss. But when a work trip takes her to a luxury resort in Italy, she finds herself slipping into a world of salty air, stolen moments, and lingering glances with a boy who sees right through her carefully built walls. Hyunjin is charming, frustrating, and absolutely not a part of her plan -- but as the trip stretches on and their paths keep crossing, Gemma starts to wonder if she's been chasing the wrong dream all along. Because sometimes, the best stories aren't the ones you plan -- they're the ones you never see coming.

masterlist | dividers by @strangergraphics

There are two kinds of writers in the world. 

The ones whose names are printed in bold on the spines of bestsellers, who get flown to Italy for exclusive literary retreats at five-star beach resorts, who sip Aperol Spritzes at golden hour while talking about ‘the craft’ as if they weren’t just regurgitating half-baked ideas in expensive clothing. 

And then there are the ones like me. The ones who pick up the scraps, who scramble for a piece of the pie by making the reservations, by handling the tantrums, by sending polite decline emails with just the right amount of fake regret. The ones who run on caffeine and damage control, who sit in the back of luxury cars, juggling schedules and power dynamics like some kind of uncredited assistant to the universe itself. 

The ones who are invisible. 

Under the weather, under their care.

stray kids ot8 x reader | comfort, sick day fluff

🌙 synopsis: you’re sick. your head hurts, your throat’s sore, and your body feels like it’s made of led. lucky for you, the boys don’t take your sick days lightly. from dad-mode chan to chaotic nurse han, here’s how each member would react to you being under the weather.

💌 a/n: I made this upon request, @cybergracie, she's sick, I HOPE U GET WELL BESTIE 🥺. this is a fluff-heavy, comfort-core piece. each member is written with personality accuracy in mind—not just idealized bf fluff, but the actual way they’d show care in their own unique ways. also: please imagine han beatboxing your fever away. thanks. ps. reblogs = love

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the divider

🎶 Now Playing: "Still With You" — Jung Kook

yes this did in fact heal me 🥹

whew what a crazy look [and it’s a man in just a simple white tank top]

On The Hard Days, Stay.

stray kids ot8 x reader | comfort, soft angst

🌙 synopsis: Everyone has days where it feels like too much. These are the ones where you fall apart—and they choose to stay. Eight moments. Eight ways love shows up when the world feels too heavy. No grand gestures. Just quiet understanding, gentle hands, and someone who refuses to let you carry it all alone.

💌 a/n: This is for when you're not okay. Each of these pieces is a love letter to the quiet kind of support we often need but don't know how to ask for. If you're going through it, I hope this feels like a deep breath. To anyone struggling: you're not alone, you're love, you're enough and you're doing enough 🥺. Enjoy the mini shots!

📍credits: Just wanna credit @cafekitsune for the divider BCZ IT'S SO FUCKING CUTE... okay, i'm fine :3

🎶 Now Playing: "ONLY" — LeeHi

Bang Chan x Reader | “I’m Here, Okay?”

You didn’t mean to break down at his place. You really didn’t.

But something about the way he opened the door with that easy smile—tired, but genuine—made your throat close up. Maybe it was how he said, “Hey, you made it,” like he was actually relieved to see you. Or how his arms opened just a little like he was waiting for you to fall into them.

You didn’t. Not yet. You just kicked off your shoes, mumbled something about traffic, and followed him to the couch.

He didn’t press. Just let you sit in silence, legs tucked under you, hoodie sleeves bunched at your wrists. You stared at the TV without watching it. He noticed.

“You alright?” he asked, turning the volume down.

You nodded. Paused. Shook your head.

“No.”

It came out quieter than you meant. Then the tears hit—hot and fast. You covered your face with your hands like that would somehow keep it all in.

You felt the shift before you saw it—Chan moving closer, careful, like he didn’t want to crowd you.

“Hey… hey,” he said, voice low. “It’s okay.”

You shook your head again, frustrated with yourself. “Sorry. I didn’t wanna cry. I’m just—”

He didn’t wait for the rest. He just reached out, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and gently pulling you into his side. You let him. Didn’t even fight it. Just let your head drop against him, breathing unsteady.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “You’re allowed to cry, you know.”

You didn’t say anything. But your fingers gripped the fabric of his sleeve tighter.

“I get it,” he murmured. “Life gets heavy. Like… it just stacks and stacks until you can’t breathe.”

You nod, barely.

“I’m not gonna pretend I can fix it. But I can sit here with you. However long you need.”

He didn’t try to cheer you up. Didn’t tell you to smile or be strong. He just stayed. His hand rubbed slow circles into your back, and when your breathing finally slowed, he looked down and gave you a small, tired smile.

“Just… let me be here, yeah?”

You nodded into his chest. You didn’t feel better. But you didn’t feel alone. And that? The idea that you weren't alone? It was more than enough.

Lee Know x Reader | “You Don’t Have to Say Anything”

You didn’t even know why you were crying.

It wasn’t one big thing. Just a pile-up of small, stupid things that somehow tipped over the edge today—too many deadlines, not enough sleep, a comment that hit too close. And now you were sitting on Minho’s couch with your knees pulled to your chest, blinking hard at the ceiling like it would stop the tears.

He noticed the second you walked in. You’d said you were fine. He didn’t believe you.

Minho didn’t ask questions. He just handed you a glass of water, sat down next to you, and turned on the TV without saying a word.

It was a comfort thing—noise in the background, something familiar. He didn’t hover. Didn’t touch you. Just… existed next to you. Quiet and steady.

You finally mumbled, “Sorry. I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

He glanced over, then leaned back into the cushions.

“You don’t have to know.”

That was it. Just that.

You didn’t say anything for a while. But eventually, you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

He let it happen, didn’t make a big deal of it. Just shifted a little to make you more comfortable. You felt him breathe out, slow and even. Like he wanted you to match his rhythm.

“Some days are just crap,” he said quietly. “Don’t need a reason.”

You nodded against his hoodie.

He didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t tell you it’d all be okay. He just sat there with you, letting the silence stretch in the safest way.

A little while later, he got up, disappeared into the kitchen, and came back with a bowl of rice, kimchi, and eggs. Nothing fancy. Just food you didn’t have to think about.

“Eat,” he said, setting it down in front of you. “Then we nap. You look like you need a nap more than a pep talk.”

And weirdly… that made you tear up again. But softer this time. Because you didn’t need someone to rescue you. You just needed this. Someone who saw you falling apart and didn’t try to make it pretty.

Changbin x Reader | “You Don’t Gotta Pretend”

You’d barely made it three steps inside his apartment before your shoulders dropped.

Changbin was in the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pushed up, something half-cooked on the stove. He turned at the sound of the door, his face lighting up at first—until he caught your expression. That quiet slump in your posture. The way you didn’t even try to smile.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just turned the stove off and wiped his hands on a dish towel.

“Come here.”

You didn’t argue. Just walked into his arms and let your forehead rest against his chest. He wrapped you up tight—arms firm around your back like he was trying to hold you together. You hadn’t cried yet. But your body felt like it could give out at any second.

He didn’t rush you.

Minutes passed like that. Then his voice, low and careful:

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Just everything. Work. Family. Myself. I don’t know. It’s all too much.”

He let out a breath through his nose. Not annoyed—just frustrated on your behalf.

“You’ve been trying to keep it together too long, huh?”

That got you. You nodded, and then the tears came. Silent. Exhausted. You felt embarrassed, but his grip never loosened.

“Hey,” he said softly, one hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. “You don’t gotta pretend with me, alright?”

You tried to speak, but it all came out as a whisper: “I feel like I’m failing.”

Changbin pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice steadier now. “You’re not failing. You’re just tired. And overwhelmed. And human.”

You sniffled, lips trembling. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know,” he said. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to power through all the time. Just let yourself fall apart here. I’ll pick up the pieces with you.”

His words weren’t polished. They weren’t some poetic comfort. But they were real. Raw. And exactly what you needed.

“Now sit,” he added, nudging you toward the couch. “I’ll finish cooking. You’re eating, and then we’re watching dumb YouTube videos ‘til you laugh or fall asleep.”

You gave the faintest, watery smile.

That was enough for him.

Hyunjin x Reader | “You Don’t Have to Go Through It Alone”

You didn’t even realize you’d gone quiet until he asked.

“Hey… what’s going on in that head of yours?”

You were sitting on the floor of his room, back against his bed frame, legs stretched out. He was next to you, sketchbook open, pencil tapping against the paper. Music played low from the speaker. Everything looked normal. But it didn’t feel normal.

You sighed. “I’m just tired.”

He glanced over at you. “Tired like… need-sleep tired, or tired like everything-is-weighing-on-you tired?”

You gave a weak smile. “Second one.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for a second. He just set the sketchbook down beside him and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Come here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You crawled over and leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around you like he’d been waiting for you to give in. His chin rested on top of your head, and you could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he mumbled. “And I know I can’t fix it. But I want to.”

Your fingers curled into his hoodie. “You don’t have to fix it. I just… needed this.”

He held you tighter.

“You always carry so much,” he said quietly. “You act like you’re fine, and everyone believes it. But I see you. I always see you.”

That hit harder than you expected. Maybe because he said it so gently. Maybe because he meant it.

“I feel like I’m falling behind,” you whispered. “Like everyone else is moving forward and I’m stuck.”

Hyunjin pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you—eyes soft, expression serious.

“Life isn’t a race,” he said. “Even if it feels like it is. You’re not behind. You’re just… overwhelmed. And that’s okay.”

Your lip trembled. He noticed, reached up and brushed his thumb under your eye before the tears could fall.

“You’re allowed to feel like this. You’re allowed to have bad days. Just—don’t do it alone. Not when I’m right here.”

You nodded, and he leaned his forehead against yours.

“No pretending with me, alright?”

Han Jisung x Reader | “You’re Still You”

You didn’t say much when you got to his place.

Just dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes, and quietly flopped face-first into his couch cushions. Jisung popped his head around the corner from the kitchen like a curious cat.

“You alive?”

You gave a muffled groan.

He walked over slowly, tossing a bag of chips on the coffee table before plopping down beside you.

“Rough day, huh?”

You didn’t answer. Just rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m so burnt out,” you mumbled. “And I feel like I have to keep pretending I’m okay because no one really wants to hear it.”

Jisung didn’t say anything right away. He reached over, grabbed the remote, and put on some random YouTube video of a guy reviewing the world’s worst frozen pizzas. It filled the silence.

A minute passed. Two.

Then, softly:

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You turned your head toward him. He was still watching the screen, but his tone had shifted—lighter, but serious.

“I mean, I joke around a lot, but like... I notice stuff. I know when you're not okay.”

Your throat tightened a little. You didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not now.

“I just feel like I’m failing,” you said. “Like I’m trying so hard and still falling short.”

He finally looked at you.

“Falling short of what, though? Whose standard are you trying to meet?”

You shrugged, and it came out half-defeated. “Everyone’s, I guess.”

Jisung leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You know, I do that too,” he said. “Think I have to be a certain version of myself for everyone. The funny one, the productive one, the ‘doing great’ one. But sometimes... I’m not. And that doesn’t make me less me.”

He turned back to look at you.

“And it doesn’t make you less you either.”

You swallowed hard.

“I hate feeling like a burden,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said instantly, voice firm. “You’re someone I care about. You showing up like this? That doesn’t make you a burden. It makes you human.”

He let the silence settle again.

Then: “I also bought three different flavors of ice cream in case of a breakdown, so like… if you wanna cry and eat cookie dough straight from the tub, I’m fully prepared.”

That finally got a laugh out of you. It was small, a little cracked—but real.

Jisung smiled, leaned back with a soft “There we go,” and tossed a pillow at your face like he hadn’t just lowkey saved your life a minute ago.

Felix x Reader | “I’ve Got You”

You’d been holding it in all day.

Smiling when you didn’t feel like it. Nodding through conversations you couldn’t focus on. Pretending like your chest wasn’t tightening with every hour that passed.

And then Felix texted you. “Wanna come over? No pressure. Just… if you need to breathe.”

You replied, “Okay.” Just that.

When you showed up at his place, he didn’t say anything. Just opened the door and pulled you into the softest hug you didn’t know you were craving.

You stood there for a while. His arms wrapped around your waist, your forehead pressed into his shoulder. The kind of silence that made it okay to not speak.

Eventually, you let out a breath. It came out shaky.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” you said, voice muffled. “I feel so… overwhelmed. Like I’m on the edge of something, but I don’t even know what.”

Felix didn’t say anything dramatic. He just hugged you tighter.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said softly. “You’re just human. And tired.”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“I’m trying so hard to keep it together.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m proud of you for even getting through the day.”

His voice was low, gentle, like he was afraid too many words might break you. He guided you to the couch, pulled a blanket over both of you, and didn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

“You don’t have to be okay right now,” he whispered. “You just have to let yourself be. And I’ll be right here.”

You didn’t cry. Not exactly. But your eyes stung, and your fingers curled tighter into his. He didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t offer solutions.

He just held you like you mattered. And for the first time in days, you believed that maybe you still did.

Seungmin x Reader | “You Don’t Have to Prove Anything”

You didn’t even mean to start venting.

You’d come over for lunch—normal stuff, nothing serious. But halfway through a conversation about your week, it just… slipped out.

“I don’t think I’m doing enough.”

Seungmin blinked. “Enough of what?”

“Just… everything.” You laughed a little, but it came out wrong. “I feel like I’m always falling short. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s not good enough. For work, for people, for myself—whatever.”

He took a sip of his iced coffee, totally unfazed.

“Sounds like you’re burnt out, not useless.”

You gave him a look.

“I’m serious,” he said, shrugging. “You think pushing yourself past your limit means you’re not doing enough? That sounds backwards.”

You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. “I just hate feeling like I’m behind.”

He leaned back in his chair, looked at you for a long second.

“You’re not behind,” he said. “You’re just… stuck in your own head.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your professional opinion?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “That’s my ‘I-care-about-you-and-I-don’t-want-you-to-self-destruct’ opinion.”

You cracked a small smile at that.

Then, softer, he added, “You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to not have your shit together sometimes. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means you’re human.”

You looked down at your drink. Your fingers fidgeted with the straw.

“And if I’m tired of trying?”

“Then stop trying to prove something to people who already love you,” he said. “Including me.”

It was quiet for a second. You glanced up—and yeah. He was serious.

You didn’t say anything. Just looked at him with a tight throat and blurry eyes.

He looked back, totally steady. Then added casually, “Now hurry up and eat before I finish your food too.”

And somehow, that very Seungmin line made the tension in your chest crack just a little.

Jeongin x Reader | “I’ll Stay”

You hadn’t meant to stay this late.

But hours passed while you sat on Jeongin’s bed, hoodie wrapped tight around you, scrolling on your phone in silence while he sat across the room, doing the same. No pressure to talk. Just quiet company.

Eventually, he looked up.

“You okay?”

You hesitated.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I think I’m just… numb.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just set his phone down and leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like he was thinking it through.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked. “Or just sit?”

You looked over at him. “Can we just sit for a bit?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. Of course.”

A few minutes passed.

Then, your voice broke the silence. “Everything feels like too much lately. But I also feel like… if I say that out loud, it makes me weak.”

Jeongin tilted his head slightly.

“It doesn’t,” he said. “It makes you honest.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers tightening around the sleeves of your hoodie.

“I feel like I’m supposed to have it together by now.”

“You don’t have to,” he said simply. “People act like there’s a deadline for figuring life out. There isn’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how calm and certain he sounded.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted, voice small.

Jeongin gave a soft smile and moved closer, sitting beside you now, shoulders touching.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I don’t always know either. But I’ll stay. Even when you don’t have answers. Even when you’re falling apart.”

You glanced over. His expression was gentle, but steady. No pity. Just care.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He nudged your shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me be here, yeah?”

You nodded, and leaned your head on his shoulder. The silence returned—but it felt different now. Safer. Warmer.

And you started thinking that yeah, yeah maybe that is exactly what you’d needed all along.

10 or 11 little ducks have been spotted crossing the dash board

A Love-Lit Birthday ✨

hwang hyunjin x reader | fluff, domestic, soft romance

🎂 synopsis: Hyunjin’s birthday is quiet, warm, and filled with love—flour-covered kisses, soft confessions, and a moment that feels like forever.

💌 a/n: happy birthday, jinnie!! 🥹 this is pure softness because he deserves all the love. hope you enjoy!!

🎶 Now Playing: "Sweet" — Cigarettes After Sex

The scent of vanilla and warm butter fills the small apartment, the soft hum of a playlist drifting through the air as you stand side by side in the kitchen. The dim glow of fairy lights strung along the cabinets casts a golden hue over everything, making the moment feel even more magical. Hyunjin's sleeves are pushed up, revealing his delicate wrists as he carefully pours cake batter into a pan, his tongue peeking out in concentration.

You can’t help but smile, watching the way his brows furrow slightly, completely immersed in the task. He’s always been meticulous, whether it’s sketching, dancing, or—apparently—baking.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” you tease, leaning your elbow on the counter.

He glances at you, feigning offense. “Of course, I am! This is my birthday cake—handcrafted, homemade, filled with love. I can’t mess it up.”

You chuckle, reaching out to swipe a bit of flour off his cheek with your thumb. “Filled with love, huh?”

He leans into your touch, eyes crinkling. “And a little bit of chaos. Mostly from you.”

You gasp in mock betrayal, crossing your arms. “Excuse me? Who’s the one who almost spilled the vanilla extract everywhere?”

He raises an eyebrow. “But did I? No. Because I’m a professional.”

Before you can counter his argument, he dips his fingers into the flour and smudges a streak onto your nose. “There. Now we match.”

The playful moment turns into a chase around the kitchen, giggles bouncing off the walls as you attempt to retaliate. He’s quick, dodging your flour-covered hands with the reflexes of a trained dancer, until you finally manage to corner him against the counter. His chest rises and falls with laughter as he surrenders, hands raised in mock defeat.

You’re both breathless, grinning, until the laughter fades into something softer. His hands fall to rest gently on your waist, thumbs tracing slow circles against your shirt.

“You look cute like this,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, eyes filled with something unreadable.

Your heart flutters. “With flour on my face?”

“With everything,” he corrects, brushing his lips against yours in a fleeting, sweet kiss before pulling back, grinning. “Now, let’s get this in the oven before we end up covered in batter too.”

By the time the cake is cooling, the apartment has transformed into a cosy little haven. You had taken your time setting everything up while Hyunjin prepared some tea—candles flicker on the coffee table, the couch is draped with soft blankets, and a warm glow fills the room from the fairy lights you’d set up earlier. It’s intimate, comfortable, a place just for the two of you.

Hyunjin walks over, two mugs of tea in hand. He places them on the table before flopping down onto the couch, sighing in contentment. He looks at you with soft, adoring eyes, his hair falling slightly over his forehead.

“I love this,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I love you.”

You step closer, holding out a small, wrapped package. “Before we eat cake, I have something for you.”

He raises an eyebrow but accepts the gift, carefully unwrapping it. When he lifts the cover of the sketchbook inside, his breath hitches.

The pages are filled with drawings—of him, of the two of you, of little moments only the two of you would understand. A doodle of him pouting at you for stealing his hoodie, a sketch of him with his head in your lap, a delicate portrait of him with his eyes closed in sleep, peaceful and beautiful. Some pages have handwritten notes—memories, silly jokes, whispered confessions of love that only he gets to see.

His fingers tremble slightly as he flips through each page, reverently, as if afraid to miss a single detail. When he looks up at you again, his eyes glisten. “You made this for me?”

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to give you something that lasts.”

He sets the book down carefully before pulling you into his arms, holding you tight. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” His voice wavers just slightly. “Thank you.”

You bury your face in his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you. “Happy birthday, Jinnie.”

He exhales, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before swaying you gently in the quiet of your home. After a few moments, he pulls back just enough to look at you properly.

“Dance with me?” he asks softly.

You laugh. “There’s no music.”

He shrugs. “There doesn’t have to be.”

And so you do. Wrapped in each other’s arms, slow and gentle, moving to the silent rhythm of your heartbeats. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, love-lit moment.

“I should make a wish,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper against your hair.

You tilt your head up, pressing a kiss to his jaw before whispering, “Make a wish then.”

But as he closes his eyes, arms wrapped around you, he knows he doesn’t need to. Because everything he’s ever wanted is already here.