Roseee

By the time you pushed the apartment door open, your feet felt like they were filled with wet sand. Every step inside took effort. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself together all day, from smiling at customers who snapped at you, from coworkers who talked at you instead of with you, from the constant noise and brightness and expectations that never seemed to shut off. You slipped your shoes off quietly, careful not to make too much sound, even though part of you had hoped someone would notice you were home without you having to announce it.

Yuji didn’t.

He was sprawled on the couch, phone pressed to his ear, voice loud and animated as always. He was laughing about something, probably Megumi or Nobara or Gojo saying something ridiculous. His eyes didn’t flick toward the door. He didn’t pause mid sentence. He didn’t say your name. You stood there for a second longer than necessary, bag hanging from your shoulder, heart doing that stupid thing where it sinks and you tell yourself not to be dramatic about it.

He’s just busy, you thought. It’s fine.

You moved past him, down the hallway, the sound of his voice following you like static. You showered on autopilot, letting the water run hotter than usual, hoping it would wash the exhaustion out of your bones. It didn’t. You leaned your forehead against the cool tile, eyes closed, breathing slowly, telling yourself you were okay. You had no right to be anything but okay. You worked retail. You folded clothes. You dealt with rude people and aching feet and long shifts. Yuji fought curses. Yuji saved lives. Yuji came home bruised and bleeding some days and still smiled like the world hadn’t tried to kill him.

You had no right to feel this heavy.

When you came back out, hair damp and skin warm, he was still on the phone. Same position. Same energy. You hesitated in the doorway, watching him laugh, gesturing with his free hand. Something inside your chest tightened. You didn’t want to interrupt. You didn’t want to ask for attention. You didn’t want to say out loud that you were tired in a way sleep wouldn’t fix.

So you walked over quietly and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

You didn’t say anything. You just rested your cheek against his shoulder, breathed him in, hoped he would feel it. Hoped he would understand without you having to explain yourself. That you needed grounding. That you needed to feel seen. That you needed him.

Yuji startled slightly, then sighed, shifting his shoulder away just enough to loosen your grip. “Hey, hold on a sec,” he said, not unkindly but distracted, covering the phone with his hand. “I’m almost done, okay?”

It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t cruel. It still landed like a slap.

“Oh. Okay,” you said automatically, already stepping back, already embarrassed for trying. He turned slightly, looking at you for the first time since you came home, brows lifting.

“You good?” he asked casually.

The word okay lodged itself in your throat. You nodded and smiled, quick and practiced. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“Gotcha,” he said, attention already drifting back to the call. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

You went to the bedroom without another word, closed the door gently, and sat on the edge of the bed. Your chest felt hollow, like you’d scooped something important out of it and left the space empty. You lay down fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over. You shouldn’t have hugged him. You shouldn’t have expected anything. You should have said something if you wanted comfort. It wasn’t his fault you couldn’t ask.

Guilt crept in quietly, settling over you like a blanket. Yuji risked his life every day. He carried the weight of the world and a demon in his body. And here you were, sulking because he didn’t read your mind after work.

You turned onto your side and closed your eyes.

In the living room, Yuji laughed again, phone still to his ear. He didn’t notice how quiet the apartment had gotten. He didn’t notice the door closing. He didn’t notice the way the air felt heavier.

Sukuna did.

“You are genuinely insufferable,” Sukuna drawled from somewhere deep in Yuji’s mind, voice dripping with disdain. “Do you have any idea how blind you are?”

Yuji frowned slightly. “Huh? What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” Sukuna said, amused, “is watching you ignore the obvious. Your little girlfriend came home exhausted, sought comfort, and you brushed her off like a nuisance.”

Yuji scoffed under his breath. “What are you talking about? She said she was fine.”

Sukuna laughed, sharp and cruel. “Of course she did. Humans like her always do. She didn’t say she needed comfort, so you assumed she didn’t. Pathetic.”

Yuji’s smile faded. His grip on the phone tightened. “She hugged me. I told her to wait.”

“Yes,” Sukuna said slowly, savoring every word. “And she withdrew immediately. Because she didn’t want to burden you. Because she thinks her exhaustion is lesser than yours. Even I can tell something is wrong, and I am not known for my empathy.”

Something cold settled in Yuji’s chest.

He ended the call abruptly, barely saying goodbye, and stared at the phone screen like it had personally betrayed him. His thoughts replayed the evening with new clarity. You coming in quietly. Not saying much. The way your hug had lingered just a second too long. The way you’d smiled too fast when he asked if you were okay.

“Oh,” he muttered. “Oh no.”

He stood up quickly, guilt hitting him full force. He hadn’t meant to be dismissive. He just hadn’t noticed. He was always loud, always present, always assuming that if something was wrong, someone would tell him. He knocked softly on the bedroom door.

“Hey,” he said through it. “Can I come in?”

You sat up immediately, wiping your eyes even though you hadn’t realized they’d teared up. “Yeah.”

He opened the door slowly and stepped inside, suddenly unsure of himself. You were sitting on the bed, hands folded in your lap, posture straight, expression carefully neutral.

“You okay?” he asked again, softer this time.

You smiled. “Yeah. I told you.”

Sukuna scoffed in his head.

Yuji swallowed. He sat down beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. “You don’t have to be okay,” he said quietly. “I think… I think I messed up earlier.”

You shook your head immediately. “No, you didn’t. You were busy. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said quickly, turning to face you fully. “I should have noticed. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to. You came to hug me. That was you saying something.”

Your eyes flickered away. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he said, a little firmer. “You had a long day. You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to want comfort.”

You laughed weakly. “Compared to you? I just fold shirts and deal with customers. You fight curses. I don’t want to complain when you’re risking your life.”

Yuji’s heart twisted painfully. “Hey,” he said, gently taking your hands. “That’s not how that works. Pain isn’t a competition. Being tired isn’t a competition. Just because my days look different doesn’t mean yours don’t matter.”

You looked at him then, really looked, and your composure cracked. “I didn’t want to be another thing you had to worry about.”

“You’re not a burden,” he said immediately, squeezing your hands. “You’re my home. And I missed that tonight.”

Tears welled despite your best efforts. Yuji pulled you into his chest without hesitation this time, arms wrapping around you fully, solid and warm. You sank into him, tension finally easing as he held you close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I should’ve greeted you. I should’ve put the phone down. I should’ve hugged you back.”

You nodded against him, breathing shakily. “I didn’t want to say it out loud.”

“I know,” he said. “But I want you to. Or at least let me learn how to listen better.”

He stayed with you like that, rocking slightly, one hand rubbing slow circles into your back. He didn’t talk. He didn’t rush. He just held you until the weight on your chest lifted and your breathing evened out.

When you finally pulled back, eyes tired but softer, he smiled sheepishly. “Next time, I’ll hang up.”

You smiled back, small but genuine. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He laughed quietly and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

And for the first time that day, you felt like you could finally breathe.

Yuji Itadori

• "I think I messed up"

You always thought the quiet hum of a warehouse at night was comforting. Metal shelves, oil‑stained floors, the rattle of tools, those were home. And tonight, they were the birthplace of the biggest job your crew had ever attempted.

The Louvre.

You stared at the massive blueprint spread across the central table, a grid of corridors, security posts, glass displays, window angles, and time-stamped guard routes. Your finger traced the Galerie d’Apollon section while Charles leaned over your shoulder, chewing absently on a pen cap. The pen cap he always ruined before every job.

Carlos sat with his boots kicked up on a crate, gently tossing a stress ball in the air. “So, we’re doing this,” he said casually, as though you were talking about robbing a convenience store and not the most recognizable museum in the world.

“Oui,” Charles replied, eyes sharpening as he scanned the blueprint. “And we are not leaving with anything less than royal jewels.”

George entered the warehouse with a clipboard held tightly against his chest, his version of armor. George was the mind, the logistics officer, the one who could turn total chaos into an organized mission. He set the clipboard down with a thud.

“Alright,” George said, tapping the sheet. “Timeline: precise. A single mistake and the police will be crawling up every alley in Paris. We have a five-to-eight-minute window inside the gallery. No more.”

From a dark corner, a laptop blinked to life. Alex cracked his knuckles and spun around in his chair, revealing at least six different screens glowing around him. “I’ve found the system,” Alex said. “Paris city cams, Louvre internal cams, traffic surveillance… Consider the entire street blind.”

Max, lounging on a crate with steel-capped boots and a smirk, raised a brow. “Good. I need the external cameras down exactly at 09:12, sharp. Not 09:13. Not 09:11. At 09:12. Otherwise the window is wrong.”

“You say that like I’ve ever messed up timing,” Alex shot back.

“You haven’t,” George said. “And let’s keep it that way.”

Kimi Antonelli sat stiffly nearby, fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie. The baby rookie. First big job. Kid looked like he should be doing homework, not running from French special police.

“Don’t look like that, kid,” Carlos teased, flicking the stress ball at his head. “Every legend starts somewhere.”

“I’d like to survive long enough to be a legend,” Kimi muttered.

Everyone laughed. That was good. Fear kept people alive, but too much fear killed them. He just needed balance.

Lando popped his head through the warehouse door, jingling his car keys. “Your getaway car is purring,” he said proudly. “Actually, cars. I prepped backup bikes behind the alley in case things go wrong. Not that they will.” He winked at you.

“Good,” George said. “Plan B is as important as Plan A.”

Max kicked his boots off the crate and stood, finally looking like someone stepping into his strategist role. “Alright,” he said. “Positions. Timing. Rehearsal. Let’s go.”

And that was how the final prep night began.

The large projection screen flickered on, showing a 3D map of the Louvre exterior. You stepped beside Max as he pointed to the highlighted window facing the Seine.

“This one,” Max said. “Unbarred. Poorly framed. Exactly where the restorations are happening. Perfect for us.”

Carlos nudged you. “And this is why we trust Max. He sees the cracks nobody else does.”

George nodded. “The lift arrives at 09:05. Disguises: construction workers. Yellow vests, helmets, boots. No one questions builders.”

“And by no one,” Alex added from his chair, “he means Parisians don’t even look up when something weird happens in broad daylight.”

Kimi raised his hand like he was in class. “We break the window… how exactly?”

Charles picked up a compact tool bag and dropped it in front of him. “Angle grinder. Diamond blade. Quiet enough with timed traffic noise, strong enough to cut the glass fast.”

Carlos grinned. “And we do it fast-fast. No sightseeing.”

You smirked. “What a shame, Carlos. Thought you wanted a little tour.”

Everyone snorted.

Max zoomed in on the interior blueprint. “Once inside, you three,” he pointed at you, Charles, and Carlos, “go straight for the display cases. Smash, grab, and bag.”

George looked at Kimi. “You go last. Watch the hallway. Call if anyone comes. And help carry. Don’t panic. Don’t freeze. Don’t drop anything.”

Future you would remember that sentence in painful detail.

Lando tossed each of you an earpiece. “Channel one for main comms, channel two for panic mode.”

“Why would we need panic mode?” Kimi asked.

“Because,” Lando said cheerfully, “George is the leader, Max is the strategist, Alex is the hacker, Charles and Carlos are the charm, you’re the rookie, and Y/N is the one stuck making sure all of you don’t die.”

That earned a laugh.

Preparations finished at 2 A.M. You went home for a couple hours of sleep with adrenaline buzzing under your skin.

Tomorrow, you would rob the Louvre.

9:01 A.M. — PARIS

Your vest scratched against your neck as you stepped out of the truck. Bright yellow. Helmet. Gloves. Fake ID patch. The French morning sun reflected off the lift crane mounted to the back of the vehicle. Everything looked perfectly legal.

People barely glanced at you.

Paris was too used to construction.

Alex’s voice crackled in your earpiece.

“Camera loop begins in thirty seconds. Don’t wave at them.”

Carlos snorted. “Can we wave after?”

“No.”

The lift whirred to life.

Charles guided it toward the façade of the Louvre with practiced ease. “Max,” he said, voice low but confident, “window range confirmed?”

“Confirmed,” Max replied from the ops van. “Street traffic masking begins now. Go.”

You stepped into the lift platform with Carlos and Charles. Kimi waited below with George, visibly vibrating with nerves.

You ascended.

The higher you went, the more you felt the enormity of what you were doing. The Louvre spread beneath you like a beast of stone and history, and you? You were about to break into it as casually as if changing a lightbulb.

0:07 A.M. — WINDOW

Alex whispered, “Cameras looping. You’re ghosts.”

Charles pressed the suction-cutting tool to the window. The vibration hummed through the platform.

Carlos leaned close to your ear. “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

The glass gave with a soft crack. Charles nudged the piece inward and slipped through first. You followed. Carlos last.

Inside the Galerie d’Apollon, sunlight filtered through tall windows, illuminating priceless jewels in pristine glass cases.

Your bags felt suddenly too light.

“Three minutes,” Max reminded sharply.

Charles swung the hammer.

Glass exploded.

Carlos grabbed the crown first, placing it gently into the padded sack. You swept the necklace, the brooches, the emerald pieces, you moved like a machine. Focused. Efficient.

Kimi slid through the window next, stumbling slightly. “I’m here— hallway clear—oh my god that’s shiny—”

“Focus,” George snapped.

Kimi nodded quickly and picked up one of the cases you’d placed on the floor.

With trembling hands.

You didn’t see the moment it slipped.

You only heard the sound.

CLANG—CRACK—PING—

“OH MERDA—”

The crown bounced.

Everyone froze.

Alex’s horrified whisper filled your earpiece.

“What was that??”

Carlos replied instantly, “Nothing! Kimi is practicing his juggling!”

Kimi was bright red as he scrambled to pick up the crown. “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY—”

“Move! Forget about the crown!” George barked. “Police response time is accelerating! Get out NOW!”

“Plan B! Out the window,” Max commanded. “Bikes are ready.”

You climbed onto the lift again, bags heavy with jewels. As soon as the three of you were steady, Charles shouted down:

“GO!”

George lowered you fast enough to make your stomach lurch.

Kimi climbed onto the platform last, panting. “Why is it shaking—”

“Because you’re panicking,” Carlos said. “Stop panicking.”

“I CAN’T.”

The lift hit the ground.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

“Oh, wonderful,” Lando muttered over comms. “They’re early.”

You sprinted across the courtyard to the alley. Lando had two motorbikes waiting, engines idle, helmets lined up perfectly.

“Y/N with me,” Charles ordered, throwing one leg over a bike. “Carlos and Kimi on the other.”

Kimi nearly put the helmet on backward.

“Take the bags!” you shouted, handing Carlos two of the heavier sacks.

Alex’s voice cracked through comms.

“Police entering the square from the east. You have twenty seconds.”

Max shouted, “GO!”

Engines roared. Tires squealed. Paris blurred around you as Charles tore down the narrow street, weaving effortlessly through traffic. Carlos followed behind, much less gracefully, screaming in Spanish at a bus that almost clipped him.

“LEFT!” George yelled.

“NO—RIGHT!” Max countered.

“Oh great,” Lando muttered, “they’re arguing again.”

Charles took a left.

Carlos took a right.

“CARLOS!” Max shrieked.

“I FOLLOWED GEORGE!!”

“You NEVER follow George!”

“HEY!” George protested.

You laughed despite everything. Adrenaline made everything hilarious.

“Rendezvous point!” Max shouted. “Pont des Arts!”

Charles skidded around a corner so sharply you nearly slid off the bike, but his hand shot back to steady your thigh. The contact burned through your jeans.

“Hold on,” he warned.

You tightened your grip around his waist.

Behind you, Carlos and Kimi burst out from another street, Kimi screaming something incoherent as they fishtailed.

Sirens grew closer.

Alex cursed suddenly.

“New units approaching from the river! They’re cutting you off!”

“Then we improvise,” Charles muttered.

The Seine glittered to your right. The bridge was ahead. Freedom. Escape. Lando should’ve been waiting up top with the getaway car.

Except.

“Uh,” Lando said, “small problem.”

“WHAT PROBLEM,” George snapped.

“They’re blocking the bridge.”

Silence.

Deadly silence.

Carlos shouted, “Then we go under!”

Before you could protest, Charles cut hard left, down the ramp toward the river walkway. Pedestrians jumped aside, screaming. Carlos followed, losing one of his bags but managing to catch it mid-air.

Kimi almost fell into the Seine. Twice.

“BIKES CAN’T FIT THROUGH THERE!” Kimi yelled.

“They will if you don’t think about it!” Carlos screamed back.

The underpass was narrow. Dark. Echoing. The walls blurred past inches from your shoulders.

You emerged blinking into daylight, the river sparkling beside you, and—

There. Parked perfectly between two columns.

A black van.

Lando sat in the driver's seat, sunglasses on, grin wide. “Get in!”

You jumped off the bike while it was still rolling. Charles shoved the bike into the river. Carlos and Kimi tossed theirs too.

Bags thrown into the van.

Doors slammed.

Lando floored it.

The van sped through side streets, changing directions every minute while Alex guided Lando through dead zones and blind corners.

“Lose them,” Max ordered. “Don’t be fancy. Just lose them.”

Lando grinned. “Fancy is all I know.”

He drifted the van around a roundabout.

“For GOD’S SAKE,” George shouted, “STOP—DRIVING—LIKE—LAN—”

“Shut up and trust me,” Lando said.

And somehow…

You got away.

Paris shrank in the rearview mirror. Sirens faded.

Silence filled the van. Trembling, panting silence.

Then Carlos started laughing. Loud, relieved, hysterical laughter.

Charles joined in.

Kimi, still pale, managed a shaky smile. “Did… did we seriously just rob the Louvre?”

“Yes,” you said, leaning back against the door and letting your heart settle. “Yes, we did.”

Alex sighed dramatically.

“Reminder that my code is the reason you’re all alive.”

Max hummed. “And my timings.”

George cut in. “And my leadership.”

Carlos smirked. “And our smooth hands.”

Charles nudged you lightly. “And Y/N’s very professional thievery.”

You smiled.

Lando glanced at all of you in the mirror. “You know what this means?”

Everyone turned to him.

He grinned.

“We’re legends.”

Night fell again over the warehouse. The bags of stolen jewels glittered on the table, even under the cheap fluorescent lights.

Kimi stared at the jewels “I’m never touching that again.”

Carlos clapped him on the back. “You did good, kid.”

“Yeah, except for when you dropped the crown.“ Lando laughed.

Kimi blushed.

George poured champagne into mismatched cups. “To the crew.”

Max lifted his. “To the timing.”

Alex lifted his. “To the hack.”

Charles lifted his. “To the insane idea.”

You lifted yours. “To pulling off the impossible.”

Lando lifted his last. “To the Louvre job.”

All eight cups clinked.

The biggest daylight heist in modern history.

Pulled off by a crew of thieves with yellow vests, comms in their ears, a rookie who dropped a crown, and a backup driver who drifted a van.

Legends.

Thank you for reading!

The sound of clicking keyboards filled the dimly lit internet café, the air thick with the hum of computers and the scent of instant ramen. Neon lights glowed faintly through the foggy windows, flickering over the group of teenagers huddled around a row of monitors. It was one of those rare nights when the Union didn’t have to deal with fights, meetings, or territory disputes, just a quiet evening out, gaming, eating, and talking trash.

You sat beside Seong-je, who leaned back in his chair like he owned the place. His headset hung loosely around his neck, and his mouse moved with effortless precision as he aimed down sights in the FPS game the rest of the guys were hooked on.

The others, Jin-tae, Woo-min, and Hoon, were in a chaotic voice chat, shouting callouts and cursing every time someone got head-shot.

You? You had no idea what was happening on their screens. You weren’t the best at shooters. Instead, you’d decided to play something different — a single-player horror story game you’d seen trending online.

At first, the choice seemed harmless enough. You wanted a game with plot and mystery, something to pass the time while your boyfriend and his friends screamed about kills and grenades. But you quickly realized this wasn’t the best idea.

The game was terrifying.

The atmosphere was dark and quiet, filled with eerie whispers and flickering lights. You were playing as a character wandering through an abandoned hospital. Every time you turned a corner, the sound design made your heart race.

Still, you were hooked. You leaned closer to your screen, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. You didn’t even notice Seong-je glancing at you every few minutes between matches, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He liked seeing you so focused. You were always like that — kind, patient, always the calm in his chaos. Everyone in the Union respected you for it. Even Baek-jin, who rarely smiled at anyone, softened around you.

But right now? You looked ready to explode from tension.

“Y/N,” Seong-je murmured, not taking his eyes off his screen. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” You nodded quickly, gripping your mouse tighter. “Just— hold on— I think there’s something—”

“Bro, cover left!” Jin-tae yelled beside you. “Seong-je! Behind you!”

A flurry of gunfire erupted from their side of the room. You flinched at the sudden noise, though your character was still creeping through a dim hallway on your own screen.

“Ha,” Seong-je exhaled, relaxing again after getting the kill. He leaned over slightly, trying to peek at what you were playing. “That’s not a shooter.”

“No,” you said, eyes glued to the monitor. “It’s a horror game. It’s… uh— kinda story-based.”

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk forming. “Horror? That explains the face.”

“What face?” you asked without looking away.

“The one that looks like you just saw a ghost,” he teased, his tone playful.

You finally glanced over at him, giving him a fake glare. “Oh, shut up. You’d be scared too.”

He snorted. “Doubt it.”

You returned to your game, muttering under your breath, “We’ll see.”

The story on your screen grew darker. The protagonist, a woman searching for her missing brother, had just entered a locked ward. The background music faded into an eerie silence, and only the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.

You turned a corner in-game.

The screen glitched.

Then, without warning, a shadow darted across the corridor.

“AH—!” you gasped, jumping so violently that your chair squeaked against the floor. Your mouse flew from your hand, hitting the desk with a loud clack.

The entire row of Union boys froze.

Seong-je’s head whipped toward you immediately, his expression hardening in instinctive concern. “Hey— what happened? You okay?” he asked, already pushing his chair slightly closer.

Your chest was heaving, one hand over your heart as you pointed at your screen. “It— it came out of nowhere!”

“What did?” he asked, eyes narrowing like he was about to fight whoever, or whatever, it was.

You fumbled to pick up your mouse, your voice trembling slightly. “Th-the ghost thing! It just— it screamed and ran at me—”

Seong-je blinked, then leaned closer to see your monitor.

The moment he saw the game, your trembling character standing in a hallway while creepy whispers echoed, his serious expression melted into pure amusement. A sharp laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

“Pfft— seriously?” He grinned, shaking his head. “You jumped like someone actually punched you.”

“Seong-je!” you whined, face flushing hot. “It was scary!”

That was all it took for the others to notice.

“Yo, what happened?” Woo-min asked, sliding his chair over.

“She screamed like she saw a ghost,” Seong-je said between laughs. “Turns out she did, in a game.”

The table erupted with laughter.

“I wasn’t—!” you started, but your voice cracked as the others began imitating your gasp.

“AH—!” Jin-tae exaggerated, clutching his chest dramatically. “Hyung, protect me from the scary computer!”

“Shut up!” you groaned, covering your face with your hands.

Seong-je reached over, tugging your hands down gently with a grin that was both teasing and soft. “Hey, hey. Don’t hide. It’s cute.”

You blinked at him, cheeks still red. “You’re supposed to defend me, not laugh at me!”

“I did defend you,” he said smoothly. “I made sure it wasn’t a real ghost.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop your smile. “You’re an idiot.”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb along your knuckles for a brief moment before turning back to his screen. “Maybe. But I’m your idiot.”

Woo-min pretended to gag. “Gross.”

“Jealous,” Seong-je shot back.

The room was filled with laughter again, though this time you joined in. The tension melted away, replaced with warmth, the kind that came from being surrounded by people who felt like family.

An hour later, the café was quieter. The Union boys were deep in another shooter match, their eyes glued to their screens as they barked orders through their mics. You’d returned to your horror game, determined to prove you could finish it without another scream.

Seong-je occasionally leaned over to watch, his amusement never fading.

“You’re walking way too slow,” he commented as your character cautiously entered a basement.

“Because I’m not dumb,” you shot back. “Everyone dies when they rush.”

“You sound like you’ve rehearsed that.”

“I have.”

He chuckled under his breath, leaning back again. “Alright, careful player. Let’s see if you survive this time.”

The sound of dripping water filled your headphones. The screen was dark except for the flashlight beam cutting through the shadows. You could almost feel the chill of the digital air.

Then came the whispering again, low, unintelligible, but definitely there.

Your hands started sweating.

“Why’s it so quiet?” you muttered nervously.

“That’s how horror games get you,” Seong-je teased. “Silence before the scare.”

“Don’t jinx it—”

You turned the corner.

A face appeared on the screen, pale, distorted, screaming directly into the camera.

“AHHH—!” you shrieked, jerking backward so hard your chair rolled a few inches. Your headset nearly flew off.

For a heartbeat, the entire café went silent again.

Then Seong-je lost it.

He doubled over laughing, hand clutching his stomach, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Holy— you jumped higher than when we fought the North District guys,” Jin-tae wheezed.

“I swear—!” you pointed accusingly at your screen, trying to hold in your own laughter. “It was right there! It screamed in my face!”

Seong-je finally caught his breath, still grinning like an idiot. “I’ve seen you stare down guys twice my size without flinching. But this? One ghost and you’re done.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re so mean.”

He leaned close, resting his chin on your shoulder, voice dropping low enough that only you could hear. “You make it too easy.”

His tone was teasing, but there was something fond in his eyes, something that softened you immediately. The others didn’t notice the way he looked at you then, like you were the only person in the room.

“Fine,” you murmured, pretending to be annoyed. “Next time, I’ll make you play it.”

“Deal,” he said without hesitation, a playful glint in his eyes. “But if I win—”

“It’s not a competition!”

“Everything’s a competition,” he countered, smirking.

You groaned, pushing him lightly away. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable,” he said, leaning back in his chair again.

Time passed quickly. The Union boys eventually switched to watching funny videos, the room echoing with laughter. Seong-je had his arm draped loosely over the back of your chair now, the casual intimacy unnoticed by anyone who didn’t already know how long you two had been together.

You leaned slightly into him, the glow of the monitor reflecting in your eyes. The horror game was paused, but you hadn’t quit it. Despite the scares, you were determined to finish.

Seong-je eventually stood, stretching. “Alright, we should head out soon. It’s getting late.”

The others groaned but started logging off one by one. As the screens dimmed, the café fell into a softer kind of quiet, just the faint buzz of machines and the laughter that lingered like an echo.

You stood, grabbing your bag, but Seong-je stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

He grinned faintly, that same teasing spark in his eyes. “Still scared?”

You frowned. “No.”

He stepped closer, leaning down just enough that his breath brushed your ear. “You sure? You can hold my hand on the way home, you know.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks again. “You’re such a tease.”

He chuckled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours before you could argue. “Maybe. But you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t let go.

As you both walked out of the café, Jin-tae whispered loudly, “Hey, next time we bring her, we’re making her play Phasmophobia.”

You turned around immediately. “Absolutely not!”

The group burst into laughter again, the night air filled with warmth and teasing as you all headed down the neon-lit street.

Seong-je gave your hand a small squeeze, his expression softening in a way none of the others would ever notice.

“You really did get scared, huh?”

You glared half-heartedly. “You’re never going to let me live it down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a grin. “But it’s okay. I’ll protect you from all the ghosts.”

You stared at him for a moment before laughing, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, eyes glinting under the streetlight, “but you like ridiculous.”

And as the two of you walked into the night, surrounded by laughter and flickering lights, you couldn’t help but agree, he was right.

You really did.

Thank you for reading!

It wasn’t your favorite part of the job.

Usually, you were tucked away in the back corner of the store, folding sweaters that customers left in tangled piles, or hanging up dresses that had slipped off their hangers in the changing rooms. You liked the quiet rhythm of it, the soft hum of the overhead music, the crisp slide of hangers, the faint scent of detergent that lingered in the air.

But today, your manager had other plans.

“(Y/N),” she’d said that morning, handing you a neat stack of glossy paper slips, “we’re doing a coupon promotion today. I need you by the escalator. Hand one to every person who walks by. Be cheerful.”

You were pretty sure she meant relentlessly cheerful.

Now, here you were, standing right in front of the escalator, with a bright branded sash across your uniform and a plastic smile that was starting to feel sore.

“Hi! Do you already have a coupon?” you asked a passing woman, holding one out.

“Oh, thank you!” she said warmly, taking it. “That’s so nice of you.”

You beamed, genuinely glad for a moment. “You’re welcome! Have a great shopping trip!”

Next came a pair of teenagers, both on their phones. “Hi! Do you already—”

They walked straight past you without a glance.

Your smile faltered slightly. You sighed through your nose, adjusted your posture, and turned toward the next person.

“Would you like a coupon? You can save ten euros on a sixty-euro purchase!”

A man nodded, took it politely, and gave you a small smile. “Thanks.”

You returned the smile and straightened your pile again.

The cycle continued: smiles, refusals, polite nods, and the occasional rude brush-off. But you stayed steady. After all, it was part of the job, even if you’d rather be fixing hangers instead of handing out paper and pretending to be sunshine incarnate.

You were in the middle of explaining the promotion to a mother and her young daughter when you heard a familiar, boisterous voice behind you.

“(Y/N)? Wait—no way, you’re working today?”

You turned around and instantly felt your tired smile morph into something real.

Ahn Suho was standing at the foot of the escalator, a grin stretched across his face like he’d just spotted a rare Pokémon. Beside him were his two friends, Beomseok, who gave you a small shy wave, and Sieun, who looked like he’d come along against his will but didn’t mind being there.

“Hey,” you said, laughing softly. “Yeah, I’m here. Manager made me the coupon girl today.”

Suho’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Coupon girl, huh? That’s adorable.”

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping into your cheeks. “Don’t start, Suho.”

But of course, he started.

“Can I get a coupon, ma’am?” he asked dramatically, clasping his hands behind his back like a child at a candy store.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sir, are you planning to spend at least sixty euros?”

“Maybe I’ll buy something just so I can use it.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice teasingly. “Does the coupon girl get an employee discount?”

Beomseok snorted quietly, covering it up with a cough. Sieun’s lips twitched in a rare show of amusement.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Here,” you said, handing each of them a coupon. “Ten euros off if you buy sixty euros’ worth, twenty off for a hundred, and forty off for two hundred. Don’t lose them — they’re exclusive.”

“Exclusive? For us?” Suho said, pretending to be amazed.

“For everyone,” you replied dryly. “But sure, if that makes you feel special.”

Beomseok chuckled, his shy demeanor softening a little. “You’re really good at this,” he said quietly.

You blinked, surprised. “Oh—thank you! It’s not that hard, just smile and try not to take it personally when people ignore you.”

Sieun, who’d been silent until then, tilted his head. “Sounds like training for life.”

You laughed at that, a genuine, bright laugh that made Suho glance over at him with mock offense.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to make her laugh more than I do,” he said.

“Maybe you should be funnier,” Sieun deadpanned, which earned him a rare, short laugh from Beomseok too.

Suho pouted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Whatever. We’re gonna look around. You better save a coupon for me, though.”

You smiled, holding up a few slips. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty for you, Mr. Ahn.”

After they disappeared into the racks, you went back to work.

The crowd flowed steadily. Some people smiled and accepted the coupons; others brushed past as if you were invisible. Still, you kept your energy up, buoyed by the thought of Suho wandering the store somewhere nearby.

You spotted them a few minutes later through the glass reflections, Suho holding up a hoodie against himself, Sieun inspecting jeans like he was solving an equation, and Beomseok nodding politely whenever an employee asked if he needed help.

It was strangely heartwarming, seeing them like that.

Suho, ever the playful one, was pretending to model a shirt in front of a mirror, winking at himself. When he caught your eye, he grinned and struck an exaggerated pose. You mouthed, you’re ridiculous, and he just pointed at you, mouthing back, you love it.

And… yeah. You did.

Fifteen minutes later, the boys came back down the escalator, their arms full of clothes.

“You weren’t kidding,” you said, looking at the pile. “You’re actually using the coupons.”

Suho smirked. “Told you. I’d never waste a chance to save money and impress my girlfriend.”

You laughed. “You think buying three hoodies is impressive?”

He pouted. “They’re all different colors.”

Beomseok stepped forward, holding out his own few items. “These are nice. I wouldn’t have picked them if you hadn’t given me that coupon.”

You smiled warmly. “Glad I could help, Beomseok. I think they’ll look great on you.”

He turned slightly pink at that and ducked his head. “Thanks.”

Sieun, still expressionless but clearly amused, added, “You’ve got a fan club now, (Y/N).”

You chuckled. “Just doing my job.”

But Suho wasn’t having that. “No, no, no — I’m her number one fan,” he said quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist before remembering you were technically on duty. He withdrew awkwardly and coughed. “Well, you know, if hugging the coupon girl is allowed.”

You giggled. “Only if the coupon girl doesn’t get in trouble for public displays of affection at work.”

“Then I’ll behave,” he said, though his grin told you that was only half true.

As they prepared to head toward the registers, a new wave of shoppers started coming up the escalator. You turned back toward them, your professional smile returning like clockwork.

“Hi there! Would you like a coupon? You can save ten euros on a sixty-euro purchase!”

Most people accepted politely, but then a man brushed right past you with a dismissive wave. You froze for a second, not hurt, exactly, but deflated. It happened all the time, yet it always stung a little.

Before you could recover, Suho’s voice rang out behind you.

“Hey! You forgot your coupon!”

Your head snapped around. Suho was holding out a slip of paper to the retreating man with exaggerated cheerfulness. “You can save forty euros if you spend two hundred! You don’t wanna miss that!”

The man turned, startled. “Uh—no thanks.”

“Your loss!” Suho called cheerfully, tucking the coupon back into your stack and winking at you.

You burst out laughing. “Suho!”

“What? I’m helping.”

Sieun was pinching the bridge of his nose, a smile threatening to break through. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“I’m supporting my girlfriend’s marketing campaign,” Suho said proudly.

Beomseok looked like he was trying not to laugh too hard. “You’re really… enthusiastic.”

Suho grinned, unbothered. “Of course. If she’s out here doing her best, the least I can do is help.”

You felt your heart flutter at that. He said it playfully, but you could see the sincerity behind it, the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, smiling up at him.

“Anytime.”

For the next ten minutes, Suho stayed beside you, refusing to leave.

Every time someone approached, he’d hold out a coupon dramatically like a salesman. “Limited-time offer! You’d be crazy to say no!”

Half the people laughed and took one, amused by his enthusiasm. The other half looked confused but still accepted the coupon anyway, mostly because they couldn’t say no to that much energy.

Beomseok ended up helping too, handing a few out when people hesitated. “It’s really useful,” he told a couple hesitantly. “I… I used it just now.”

Sieun stood a few feet away, arms crossed, pretending not to be involved. But you noticed that whenever someone ignored you, he would subtly step forward and give them a pointed look until they took the coupon from Suho.

It was teamwork, chaotic, ridiculous teamwork, but it made your chest feel warm.

Eventually, your manager poked her head out from behind the counter, eyes widening when she saw Suho enthusiastically waving a coupon at a group of teenagers.

“(Y/N)?” she called out.

You stiffened slightly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Who are they?” she asked, though she didn’t sound angry, just confused.

You scratched your neck awkwardly. “Uh, friends.”

Suho flashed her his best polite smile. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re just helping with the campaign. She’s doing a great job!”

Your manager blinked, looked at the shrinking pile of coupons that had already been handed out, and nodded slowly. “...Carry on, then.”

Once she disappeared again, you exhaled in relief, and Suho nudged your shoulder. “See? We’re professionals now.”

“Yeah,” you said, laughing. “You should apply for a job here.”

“Nah. My boss would get jealous.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“Of how much attention I’d give you,” he said simply, and you rolled your eyes, but your heart definitely skipped.

As the shift wound down, you finally ran out of coupons. The escalator traffic slowed, and your feet ached from standing so long. Suho noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he said softly, touching your arm. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” you admitted. “But I’m fine.”

He crouched slightly so his eyes were level with yours, concern flickering across his face. “You’ve been standing here for hours. Want me to grab you some water?”

You smiled faintly. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get some when I clock out.”

“Still,” he said, and before you could stop him, he was already walking toward the café corner.

Sieun sighed. “You can’t stop him once he decides something.”

Beomseok nodded, smiling a little. “He really cares about you.”

You looked after him, your chest tight with affection. “Yeah,” you murmured. “He does.”

When he came back, he had a bottle of water and a cookie from the bakery stand. “For the coupon queen,” he said grandly.

You laughed and took them. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, you mean.”

Sieun groaned audibly. “Can we go now?”

Beomseok smiled. “Let them have their moment.”

By the time your shift ended, the boys had already paid for their clothes and were waiting by the store entrance.

You clocked out, peeled off your sash, and walked toward them with a tired but happy grin. “You three didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Of course we did,” Suho said immediately. “You think I’d leave without my favorite person?”

Beomseok chuckled softly, and Sieun muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You’re hopeless.”

Suho ignored him, taking your hand as soon as you stepped outside. The evening air was cool, and the city lights shimmered on the wet pavement.

“You were amazing today,” he said suddenly, squeezing your hand.

You looked at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Just… you. Being patient with everyone, staying cheerful even when people ignored you. It’s kinda inspiring, you know?”

Your heart swelled. “Suho…”

He grinned, trying to downplay the sincerity. “I’m serious! If I had to do your job, I’d get kicked out in five minutes.”

“You almost did,” Sieun pointed out dryly.

Suho shot him a glare. “Details.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Thanks, though. That means a lot.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “Anything for you, coupon girl.”

“Don’t start that nickname again,” you warned lightly.

“Too late,” he said, already laughing. “You’re stuck with it.”

Beomseok smiled at the two of you, his eyes bright. “You guys are really cute.”

“Agreed,” Sieun said unexpectedly, glancing away before either of you could comment.

You blinked, then giggled. “Did you just—”

“Don’t make it weird,” he interrupted, deadpan.

That set all of you laughing, the sound echoing through the mall corridor.

And as Suho slung his arm casually around your shoulders, guiding you toward the exit, you couldn’t help but think, even after a long, tiring day of standing and smiling and being ignored, that you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Because somehow, in the middle of all that chaos and coupon duty, you’d found a little moment of warmth.

A moment that felt entirely, perfectly you and him.

Thank you for reading!