#seonghwa fluff

You look everywhere but him as you swing your feet slightly over the bench. You want desperately to ignore the weird sensation in your heart that only comes when he's close.

    “You don't have to do this.” You mutter, still not looking at him.

    “I want to.” He replies back, his voice as gentle as ever. It was the same answer all the time, he wanted to... Why?  You weren't sure if you really wanted to know, maybe that's why in the past you never continued the conversation. But today was different.

    “You always say that. It doesn't make sense.” He pauses his movements. You didn't dare look at him as you continue. “I don't see why you want to. We're not even friends.”

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He just reaches over to get a new cotton pad and pours some disinfectant on it. He brings it to the cut above your lip. It stings but you force yourself not to react. He dabs it until it's clean. He retracts his hand.

    “I want to be you friend.”

You laugh, not because you found it funny but because it was a little insane, because he says it like it's obvious.

    “Be my friend?” You finally look at him. The look in his eyes tells you he wasn't joking. “That's rich coming from someone in your position. You do know becoming my friend will ruin your reputation at this school? Whatever popularity you have will be gone the second you claim me as a friend.”

It was the reality of this place. Everyone hated you, they didn't like how you were different, in the way you dress, think and act. They didn't like how you didn't bend to the wills of the students higher on this stupid hierarchy. Even the lowest of the lows stayed away from you. Everyone was afraid of those who ruled this school, they didn't want to get pushed down lower than they already were.

You brought up his popularity for a reason, you wanted to scare him off. Didn't want to ruin this precious soul's life just for hanging out with you. You didn't want rumors to cling to him like they did with you, didn't want anyone to talk down on him. You couldn't bare the thought. Even now as you both are completely alone, you're afraid of anyone catching you together.

    “And what if I don't care?” You freeze, that was not the reaction you were expecting. He had said it so firmly, your lips part slightly.

    “...Why? Why do you want to be my friend even after knowing full well what will happen?” You question. There wasn't anything about you that was so special that he should risk everything just to be your friend.

    “Because, I admire you.” You look away cause there he goes again with those damn heart eyes, you wonder if he thinks he's being subtle about it.

    “There's nothing to admire! I'm a lonely bitch who's always getting into fights!” You snap, lip quivering. He doesn't even flinch as his gaze remains steady on you.

    “That's where you're wrong, Y/N.” He counters, “You are a strong person. You help students from those fucking assholes even if they show no gratitude afterwards. You get into all these fights just to protect people who won't even do the same for you.”

His voice breaks a bit, your heart tightens. You never looked at it like that. You only helped because you couldn't stand to see someone who couldn't fight back get thrown around like they were worthless pieces of shits. Even if they didn't say thank you, even if they ignored you in the halls afterwards, you'd do it again. Because that was who you were.

    “You never complain, you don't even demand a thank you. You let them leave quietly, and you deal with everything else alone.” Seonghwa grabs your hand. Your knuckles are a little sore from the fight earlier. “I want to be your friend so I can stay by your side and protect you too. I know you're strong, but I want to be there so you don't have to carry this burden by yourself. You're not who those rumors say you are, you're so much more.”

The warm tears genuinely catch you by surprise, they fell before you could even stop them. No one's ever stood up for you, no one's ever wanted to see you for you and not from the rumors they've heard, no one even wanted to talk to you. And yet here this man was, saying he wants to stay by your side.

    “I—” You can't speak. And even if you could, you wouldn't know what to say. 

The silence overtakes the room after you draw a breath. His gaze doesn't waver, if anything it intensifies. He wipes your tears with the back of his finger, you let him. You should have stopped him. Yet you didn't. Perhaps the need for another human to care about you became too much. You swallow lightly.

    “You can't just say things like that, what if someone heard and thought you liked me...” You mutter, now wiping your own tears. He doesn't miss a beat,

    “Well they wouldn't exactly be wrong.” He says, voice low and serious. You flinch.

    “Y—You really can't take a hint, can you?”

You've been trying to push him away, avoiding him in the halls as much as you can to avoid the topic of him being seen with you too much. When he wordlessly ushered you to the empty nurse's office after school hours and tends to the cuts and bruises on you, you tried being bitchy enough to have him fed up with you but he ended taking everything in silence and continued to clean you up everytime. It got to the point where you just let him do whatever because he didn't seem to have any notion of stopping anytime soon, he didn't care what you said.

...You couldn't lie, the new warmth you tried oh so hard to ignore was nice.

    “No. Not when it comes to you. You're hurting inside, I want to be there for you whether if it's as a friend ...or something more.”

    “Seonghwa...” You say his name because it's the only thing you can right now. The only thing that was a steady warmth in your dreary school life.

    “I want to fight with you if you let me.” You look down when his warm hand rests on top of yours, there is something new. A feeling you never felt before, it's tingles at your skin touching his. You look back to his dark brown eyes, you feel your throat tightening.

    “You don't know what you're getting yourself into.” You say quietly, there's an edge in your voice.

    “I have an idea. And I'm willing—”

    “And what if you don't stay? I wouldn't blame you, it's going to be terrible— before you had transferred there was someone before you. She... She left me because of how hard it was, she went through relentless bullying. Fuck they almost talked her into suicide. She had to leave, I don't blame her and never will.” You ramble on. “I can't bar—”

    “I'm sorry about your friend but do you think it's alright for you to go through it alone?” He interrupts with urgency. Your breath hitches. Seonghwa was stubborn, you'd give him that. “You think it's okay for them to treat you like this?”

You shake your head, of course it wasn't okay what they did. You didn't get a say though. You could get into many fights with both girls and guys alike but the rumors kept circulating, the bullying keeps happening. The results stay the same. They said you had caused the death of your deceased mother. That one came out of nowhere, you never found out who came up with that it. Of course it wasn't true, yet it still hurt like a bitch.

    “Then why won't you let me help? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

    “I don't want you to get hurt as well.” You mutter. Seonghwa slides off the small chair he had been sitting on. He kneels in front of you. Your heart picks up.

    “It wounds me how weak you think I am, Y/N.” His tone almost sounds like a scoff even as he tries to keep it light.

    “S-Sorry...”

He holds your hand and doesn't say anything. Silence fills the space again, a type of silence that's tense. You study the boy as he studies you. Would it be so bad to let him in? Yes—of course, no doubt about it. If anything, you actually liked Seonghwa so there's no way you'd want to bring him along in this hell you called your life.

You freeze when he brings your hand to his face. The silence fills deeper with hot tension, increasing with each breath.

    “Be selfish for once.” He whispers, pleading with you. “I don't want to see you loose yourself.”

Your lip twitches. You never knew how to be selfish, everything you did was for the best interest for others. Selfish... Your eyes look down to his lips and back up to his eyes. Were you capable? His words echo in your mind once, then twice. Louder by the third time that it makes your pulse quicken.

You lean down and kiss him. This time Seonghwa is taken aback. You slide down to the ground with him without breaking the kiss, you find yourself on his lap. You ignore the sting in you knuckles as you fist his hair to kiss him deeper. He tastes sweet and warm like vanilla which was very befitting. Seonghwa is responsive, kissing you back with equal passion. His hands rest at your waist like they belong. You feel something break in your chest, the tight lock that you kept on your heart at all times shatters. The walls you built come crumbling down and it's all Park Seonghwa's fault.

Seonghwa can feel it all in the kiss, the strain of holding back everything for all these years, the longing for someone who cares, the confusion and the fear, he feels all of it. This is impulsive of you, a spur of the moment. He's the one to break the kiss gently, he rests his forehead against yours as you both regain your breath.

    “I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere.” He pants softly

    “If it gets too much, promise me you'll leave.” You say barely above a whisper. Seonghwa's face twists in shock. He pulls back slightly, looking at you incredulously.

    “You can't be serious—”

    “I am. Promise me.”

    “I can't do that Y/N. Why would I leave you if things get hard?” He sounds hurt.

    “They might—”

    “Fuck them, Y/N. Honestly,” he snaps. “I'm tired of how everything revolves around Do, Sung and the rest. They won't be able to do anything to me or you anymore, I won't let them. I just wished you trusted me.”

    “I do. More than anyone in this school.” Your voice cracks.

    “Then trust me that I won't leave you if it gets hard.”

    “I-I just don't want anything bad to happen to you.”

    “Baby,” the petname catches you off guard. Something flutters deep in your stomach, it's annoying but a little pleasant. He lifts your chin. “Stop worrying about others for once.”

He kisses your lips, it's softer than the first kiss you shared—more controlled.

    “Forget everything for a moment. Think about yourself. You have me to help you.” He presses his lips against yours again, more genuine than the last. It was certain, full of emotions. You let yourself go, finally letting your heart to open.

It is strange. You never saw yourself having any interest in anyone, thinking you'd be alone for the rest of highschool and perhaps even college. You didn't let yourself feel sadness from the thought at the time. Now, you're letting someone in for real because he chose you. There is still anxiety about this whole thing deep inside but Seonghwa had proven that he wasn't going to give up easily...

The soft kiss leaves you feeling tingly when you finally pulled away. His hand lingers on your chin just as the soft feeling does. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip.

    “I think we need to get you home so you can rest. You had a long day...” He observes, his finger lightly touching the soon to be scar above your lip.

His hands go to your hips and he pats them slightly. You quickly get off him, feeling embarrassment in your chest. He puts away the supplies he used on you. Then he turns to you and holds his hand out causally like it was a normal thing. You hesitate half a second before just taking his hand.

To your dismay when you exited the nurse's office the halls weren't completely empty... Your heart picks up in fear when people notice who he was walking with. You wanted to let go, to separate yourself for his sake. He just holds your hand tighter and basically pulls you along, ignoring all the shocked stares. You couldn't tell what anyone was thinking, were they angry? curious? full of hatred? You didn't know.

When you near the exit, the whispers begin. Seonghwa gives your hand a squeeze, a reminder that he was here. This was definitely going to be circulating around the whole school by tomorrow, you were already dreading waking up tomorrow.

When you guys finally exit the building, you feel like you can breath again. The tenseness of your muscles relax, but only slightly. Maybe it was nice having someone by your side...

    “I'm driving you home.” His hand holding yours does none of the sorts to let go, already finalizing the decision with no chance of arguing. He just pulls you over to his car.

He opens the door for you and ushers you in. You get comfortable as he makes it round to the driver's side. He gives you a look before starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.  You look to your lap, entangled with your inner thoughts.

Something falls onto your lap, slightly startling you. You turn to look at him wondering why he gave you his phone. He tells you the passcode to your surprise.

    “My phone's connected. Play anything you like. Maybe something you listen to when you need comfort.” His voice is quiet as if speaking any louder would turn you into ash. You just nod.

The soft sound of Debussy's arabesque fills the car. Your mother used to play the piano whenever she could while you were growing up. This was one of the melodies that stick from her fading memories. Whenever you listen to it, it makes you feel... closer. Somehow. You grit your teeth to keep your eyes from wetting themselves.

Seonghwa doesn't say a word, as the sound of the piano fills the car. He just listens. He could tell from the expression on your face that this piece held some worth to you. Something dear, something special.

The whole ride is silent—besides the occasional directions from you—as the music soothes the journey into something soft. By the time he parks into your driveway and kills the engine, he notices that you weren't tense anymore.

The sound of your seatbelt clicking as you remove it is loud in the still silence. You look at him.

    “Thank you.” Your voice is quieter than you wished. “For everything. Really”

    “Don't worry about it,” he tells you. Then a thought. “I'm serious. I don't want you to stay up worrying about tomorrow. We'll take baby steps. First we'll inform the principal and move on from there.”

    “Baby steps,” you repeat.

    “Yes baby steps. We'll dethrone those assholes and hopefully get the school to be... Normal.”

You didn't hear his next words, too stuck up on the way he said "we." It wasn't just you anymore. You let your chest ease on that.

    “Yeah,” you breath out, interrupting him without meaning too. Seonghwa pauses. Then he breaks into a soft smile with those damn heart eyes again.

©2026 imbaebi — all rights reserved, I don't allow copy of my work, no translations or reposts whatsoever without my consent. Inspiration is one thing, plagiarism is another. my fics are made by ME, there may be mistakes along the way but that just means I'm human. reblogging is very appreciated, help a writer out and reblog !!

atz masterlist + net: @eighteez-net

perm taglist — (there is an ateez taglist) ;

your hands reach for her waist, gently pulling her back into you. she rolls her eyes. god you love it when she does that. “i know. i know you are.” with your nose resting atop her shoulder, you inhale just barely—taking in every ounce of her sweet vanilla in the small chance she bans you from touching her.

“i cannot believe you,” she mutters, but she doesn’t push you away. in fact, you surely don’t miss the way her eyelids flutter. “of all the things you could forget.”

“i know, my love,” you wrap your arms around her waist, “you think maybe we could get away with buying it from the grocery store this week?”

she groans, what an absurd suggestion. you know this. “you know it’s not the same. i like the way she makes it.

“that’s fair,” you kiss her shoulder, “but i want to make it up to you. maybe she’ll have extra loaves next week, and i’ll get two.”

a small frown spreads across her lips, “but we won’t go through that much sourdough in just a week..”

“hmm,” your lips trail towards her neck, and you can barely hear her breath catch, “maybe we invite some friends over. sourdough party. hell, i’ll buy three loaves. is that enough to make you happy, baby?”

her ears perk up at the sound of party. you chuckle against her skin. “is that enough to make you happy,” your lips are right by her ear now, “bunny?”

she gasps when you bite the shell of her ear, a low whine from the back of her throat as your tongue follows. your hands move from her waist, grabbing the cooling cup of tea and setting it on the counter.

“i think—” her mind gets fuzzy as your hands migrate under her (your) shirt, hands cupping her stomach. “i think i need one more thing,” she whimpers when your thumbs hook onto the waistband of her panties. you snap the elastic back against her skin.

“well,” your lips are back on her shoulder, “i have to leave for work in an hour, so do you think we can make it qui—”

The old wooden door to your bedroom creaked open when you pushed it. You cringed at the noise. A soft meow came from the bed, and you watched as the shadow of your kitty stretched out her little limbs. "Shh," you whispered, sloppily petting her head.

Seonghwa didn't stir as you entered the room. She was curled up in your bed, her long, freshly dyed platinum hair sprawled out across all of your pillows. She was wearing one of your loose sleeps shirts again, the ones that couldn't quite hold her boobs behind the fabric. You slid your miniskirt down your legs, stepping out of it and simultaneously pulling your top over your head. You covered yourself with an oversized tee, furiously rubbing at your face with a slightly dried out makeup wipe before falling into the bed.

A small grumble came from beside you, and you cringed. "I'm sorry," you whispered softly, turning to curl into her side.

Her eyes fluttered open, lashes moving in quick movements on her cheeks, "mmh, it's okay." She rolled toward you, opening up her arms just like you had prayed she would.

You immediately buried your face between her boobs, the soft skin warm against your cheeks. She ran a hand over your head, nails scratching down the back of your neck. With legs tangled together, wrapped up in each other, you hummed contentedly into her chest.

A small laugh vibrated in her chest, "did you have a good night?"

You nodded, "mhmm. Wooyounggie said you should've come. She misses you." Your words were all spoken into her skin.

"Aww," she yawned, "tell her she can come over anytime."

Her lips pressed against your forehead, causing you to giggle quietly. You wiggled further into her embrace.

"Oh you're drunk," she laughed tiredly. "Was getting home okay?"

You nodded, looking up at her, past the boobs blocking your face, "Yunho brought me home." You giggled, "you should've seen it. He was trying to flirt with that bartender again, but he's so awkward 'bout it. 'S like he's never talked to a man before."

"Aw I wish I had been there," she grabs the blanket from her side of the bed and throws it over the both of you. It was as if it held you closer to her. Completely encased in her warmth and her scent.

Your baby. Your everything. You squeezed her waist again. "I love you," you pressed a sloppy kiss to the closest peice of skin to your mouth—her sternum.

The rain arrived much sooner than you expected.

It poured down all at once, heavy and sudden, turning the streets slippery within seconds. The sound was constant and loud, filling the air as water splattered onto the sidewalk in thick, relentless drops. Everything outside blurred into gray, and before you could react, you had become victim of the violent downpour.

You quickly stumbled under the nearest bus stop, hair and work clothes already drenched. So much for a quiet stroll after your shift. You huffed, placing your bag on the metal bench, unaware of the man standing beside you.

He stood with his body facing the road and his head tilted slightly towards you. He watched with amusement as you fumbled through your bag, searching for what he could only guess was an umbrella. When you came up empty-handed, you looked up with a gasp as you met his sharp gaze.

You recognized him—he lived in the same apartment building, just a few doors down. You often exchanged polite smiles with him, and in normal circumstances, you would have taken the time to appreciate just how handsome he was. But you realized you were still soaked from head to toe, so instead you offered him a tight-lipped smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

As if sensing your humiliation (or perhaps seeing it on your face), he turned his head back to face straight ahead. You sighed a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, but it only seemed to make your situation worse. Suddenly, all your clothes stuck to you like a second skin, damp and cold against your body. Your work blazer was the worst of all, heavy with rainwater and impossible to ignore, clinging to your frame with any movement. The damp patches continued to spread across the fabric, threatening to soak through your blouse underneath that had, until now, managed to stay relatively dry.

“You should take it off,” a soft voice came from beside you.

“What?”

Your neighbor turned to face you again, eyes carefully meeting yours. “The blazer. You should take it off.”

You stared at him, stunned for a moment longer, until his words finally registered in your brain. “O-Oh, right!” You chuckled awkwardly, the words tumbling out as heat rushed to your face. You carefully peeled the blazer off your shoulders, wincing as the cold fabric dragged against your skin. Once free, you draped it over your arm, water steadily dripping from the sleeve onto the sidewalk below.

“Well,” you muttered under your breath, eyeing the state of it, “there’s probably no saving this anymore.”

A quiet snort came from beside you. You looked up to see your neighbor gazing ahead at the rain again, with the faintest hint of a smile tugging his lips. Somehow, that only made the warmth creep further into your cheeks.

You turned your head to face forward, mimicking his stance. Raindrops splattered sharply against the shelter of the bus stop as you admired the scene before you. The two of you stood still like that, embracing the comfortable silence. You’d never had much of a conversation with him, but were familiar with his presence from the countless elevator rides shared in your building.

You heard him shift beside you, and slowly let your gaze drift toward him again. You noticed how his dark hair sat slightly tousled beneath the gray sky, black-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. A trench coat hung neatly over his striped t-shirt, black slacks visible underneath. Your eyes lingered on his sharp profile, quietly studying him. He seemed unaware of your attention—or at least, so you thought.

“Don’t we live in the same building?” You jumped slightly, caught off guard when he spoke. He shifted his gaze to you now, “You live a few doors down from me, don’t you?”

You blinked. “Oh. Yeah, 312.”

He nodded. “Thought so. I’m in 309.”

“309,” you repeated. “Right.”

“I’m Seonghwa, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m Y/n. Nice to formally meet you, Seonghwa.” You teased with a smile.

“You too, Y/n.”

Silence settled again for a moment.

Seonghwa cleared his throat suddenly. “Do you usually go for walks in weather like this?”

You shot him an incredulous look and huffed, “Of course not!”

“Good. I was worried this was a hobby,” he smirked.

You laughed. “I got caught halfway home. I could hardly survive five minutes out there.”

“That makes more sense.” He hummed.

The conversation drifted on in short bursts, interrupted by the sound of rain against the shelter above. It wasn’t anything important—just small observations and the occasional joke—but somewhere along the way, the awkwardness had disappeared.

“Do you work nearby?” Seonghwa asked after a moment.

You glanced over. “It’s a twenty minute walk from home. Just a simple office job.”

“That sounds exciting.”

Your lips twitched. “It really isn’t.” He laughed softly at that.

The rain kept falling around you, still heavy enough that neither of you seemed eager to step back out.

“Have you lived in the building long?” You asked.

“About a year.”

“A year?” Your eyes widened. “And we’ve never actually had a conversation?”

“We’re fixing that now, aren’t we?” He turned to face you with a warm smile.

Something about his tone made your stomach flutter unexpectedly. You faced the road, attempting to hide the blush threatening your cheeks again.

Seonghwa checked something on his phone, glancing onto the road with a sigh. “This bus is taking forever. I’ll be late for dinner if it doesn’t come anytime soon.”

You frowned. “Oh no, can’t you text to postpone it?”

“I already did,” he replied. “Either way, I don’t want to be in this cold much longer.”

“You and me both,” you agreed.

As if on cue, a shiver ran through you. You rubbed your hands over the thin fabric of your sleeves, trying (and failing) to chase away the cold that had settled deep in your skin.

Seonghwa looked at you with concern. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

His raised brow made it clear he didn’t believe you. He studied you so intently that you thought you might shiver again under his gaze. He looked you over, noting the damp strands of hair stuck to your face and how your clothes still clung from the rain. You smiled awkwardly, shifting slightly, unsure how to act around him. His eyes faltered, as if he was deciding something in his head. Suddenly, he let out a quiet scoff, clearly unimpressed.

You looked away, eyes settling outside the shelter. Somewhere along the way, the rain began to lose its fury. The relentless drumming softened into a steady patter, and the gray curtain hanging over the road gradually began to thin.

“Looks like the rain’s easing off. You should probably go now, in case it picks up again,” Seonghwa said.

“Ah—yeah, I guess you’re right.” You picked up your bag, ready to say goodbye to your neighbor, until his deep voice stopped you.

“Wait.” You looked up to see him gently removing his trench coat, already stepping closer as he held it out to you. “Take it. For the walk back.”

Your eyes widened. “I couldn’t do that! I mean—what about you?”

“I’ll be catching the bus anyway, you need it more than I do. You’ll catch a cold otherwise.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he was faster. “Please. I insist.” His smile made your argument dissolve a little, heat rising to your neck as you hesitated.

“Fine,” you sighed.

He placed his trench coat in your hands and offered to hold your blazer as you put it on. The coat settled over your shoulders, still carrying traces of his warmth. The sleeves were too long, and the fabric hung loose, but it immediately chased away some of the cold.

“Thanks.” You mumbled.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Well, I should probably get going now.” You felt a little embarrassed in his coat—you had only started talking today, after all. He looked at you, his expression unreadable, though something in his gaze softened as it settled on you wrapped in his coat.

“Mhm. Catch you later, neighbor.” He smiled and looked at you a moment longer than necessary before stepping back.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and started back to your apartment. The rain had softened into a light drizzle, no longer the fierce storm from earlier, but it still clung to everything—glittering on the sidewalk, threading through your hair, soaking into the quiet glow of the streetlights. Puddles rippled gently with each step, reflecting blurred halos of orange and white as you passed.

You glanced back at Seonghwa one last time. To your surprise, he was still watching you, standing where you’d left him as if he hadn’t moved at all. Your heart fluttered, the distance between you suddenly feeling smaller than it had been. Before you could stop yourself, you waved goodbye. You watched him tense slightly, then lift his hand in a small wave, a faint smile on his lips.

You smiled to yourself, before turning back around. The rain had lightened into a soft mist, drifting through the glow of the streetlights and softening everything it touched. You could still feel Seonghwa behind you, though you didn’t need to look to know he was there—steady and unmoving, like he was watching until you were out of sight. The thought warmed your chest as you adjusted your bag and continued forward.

Even as you walked away, he didn’t quite leave your mind. The image of him standing there—coatless, smiling faintly in the rain, still watching after you—stayed with you longer than it should’ve. And somehow, that was what made it feel less like a chance encounter and more like something that would happen again.

The Jedi Temple is never truly quiet.

Even in stillness, there is sound—robes brushing polished stone, distant footsteps echoing through endless halls, the low hum of lightsabers being trained within far-off chambers. 

Life pulses here, disciplined and restrained, guided by the Force like a current beneath everything.

You have lived in it for as long as you can remember.

And yet—

Tonight feels different.

You sit cross-legged in the meditation room, eyes closed, palms resting on your knees. The Force flows around you, steady and familiar, something you’ve learned to trust more than your own thoughts.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Let go.

That’s what your master always says.

Let go of distraction. Let go of desire. Let go of anything that pulls you away from balance.

You try. You really do.

But something tugs.

Faint at first—like a ripple across still water.

Then stronger. Warmer.

Your brows knit slightly.

This… isn’t part of your meditation.

It’s not the quiet, all-encompassing peace of the Force you’ve been taught to recognize.

It’s something else. Something specific.

Your eyes open.

The moment you do, the feeling sharpens—like a thread being pulled taut between you and something just beyond your reach.

Or someone. A presence.

Bright. Steady. Unfamiliar.

And yet, somehow, it doesn’t feel like a stranger.

Your heart stutters. That’s not supposed to happen.

The Force is not meant to feel like this—not personal, not warm in a way that settles in your chest and refuses to leave.

You push yourself to your feet.

You should ignore it. You will ignore it.

You take one step toward the door.

And then another.

And then—

You’re walking faster than you mean to.

The Council Chamber doors are already open when you arrive.

That’s unusual. More unusual still—

You were not summoned.

Yet the moment you step inside, your master’s gaze snaps to you immediately, sharp and knowing.

“Padawan.”

You freeze mid-step.

“…Master.”

There’s no point pretending you just happened to wander here.

Not when the Force is still pulling at you, stronger now, guiding your attention—

To him.

Standing near the center of the chamber.

Still and composed. Radiating that same warmth you felt during meditation.

A Jedi Knight.

You don’t know his name yet. But somehow, the Force does.

Your breath catches, just slightly.

He’s… not what you expected.

There’s a quietness to him—not the distant, untouchable kind many Knights carry, but something softer. Grounded. Like he’s fully present in every moment he exists in.

And when his eyes meet yours—

The pull snaps into place.

Clear. Undeniable.

Like something in the galaxy just decided.

There you are.

You forget how to breathe.

“Padawan,” your master repeats, more firmly this time. “Step forward.”

Your body obeys before your thoughts can catch up.

Each step echoes louder than it should.

You stop beside your master, bowing your head in respect—but your awareness is elsewhere.

It’s on him.

“Jedi Knight Seonghwa has recently returned from the Mid Rim,” one of the Council members begins. “His experience will be valuable for the assignment ahead.”

Assignment. Right.

You should be focusing.

You force yourself to listen, to stay grounded.

“The Outer Rim territories are growing increasingly unstable. Negotiations have failed. We suspect separatist influence.”

War. Conflict. Danger. Normal. Familiar.

You’ve trained for this.

“And so,” your master continues, “you will accompany Knight Seonghwa as part of this mission.”

Your head lifts slightly before you can stop yourself.

Accompany him.

The Force flickers—almost like it’s pleased.

You swallow.

“An honor,” you manage, voice steady despite the chaos in your chest.

Your gaze shifts, just for a second—

And he’s already looking at you.

There’s no surprise in his expression. No confusion.

Only something quiet. Soft.

Like he felt it too.

“Please,” he says, inclining his head slightly. “Just Seonghwa.”

Your name sits unspoken between you.

But somehow—

It feels like he already knows it.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The ship leaves at dawn.

You tell yourself it’s just another mission.

You’ve done this before—packed your belongings, prepared your gear, reviewed strategies until they become instinct. There’s comfort in routine.

Predictability. Control.

So why does everything feel slightly off?

You tighten the straps of your bag, double-checking its contents even though you already know everything is in place.

Focus.

That’s what you need. Not whatever this is.

You step into the hangar.

Ships line the platform, mechanics moving efficiently between them. The air smells faintly of fuel and metal.

“There you are.”

You don’t even have to turn around.

Your body reacts before your mind does—heartbeat quickening, breath catching just slightly.

You do turn, eventually.

And there he is.

Seonghwa.

Closer now than before.

No Council chamber distance to soften his presence. No formal setting to dull the way the Force hums around him.

Up close, he’s even warmer.

Not physically. Something deeper.

Something that makes your chest feel… full.

“You weren’t at the morning briefing,” he says, tilting his head slightly.

There’s no accusation in it. Just observation.

“I reviewed the reports last night,” you reply. “There was no need.”

His lips curve, just barely.

A smile.

You weren’t prepared for that.

“I see,” he says. “Efficient.”

You don’t know why that makes your cheeks warm.

“I try to be.”

Silence settles between you. But it’s not uncomfortable.

It’s… easy. Which is worse.

Because it shouldn’t be.

You clear your throat. “We should board soon.”

“We should,” he agrees.

Neither of you moves.

The Force lingers.

Gentle. Curious. Like it’s waiting.

“For what?” you almost want to ask.

Instead, you turn first.

Because you know better.

The ship is quiet once you’re in hyperspace.

Too quiet. Or maybe you’re just more aware now.

Every shift in the Force feels amplified. Every small movement echoes louder.

You try to meditate again.

It’s what you’re supposed to do. What you’ve always done.

But the moment you close your eyes—

He’s there. Not physically.

But in the Force. A steady presence just beyond your reach.

You exhale slowly.

This is a problem.

You can’t focus like this. You open your eyes again.

And of course—

Of course he’s standing in the doorway.

Watching you.

You freeze.

He doesn’t move.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks quietly.

Yes. No.

You don’t know.

“…No,” you say finally.

He steps inside, slow and deliberate, like he’s giving you time to ask him to leave. You don’t.

He sits across from you, mirroring your posture.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

You’re both just… there. Existing in the same space. Feeling the same current.

“This is new for you too, isn’t it?” he says eventually.

You hesitate.

Then—honesty, for once.

“Yes.”

His shoulders relax, just slightly.

“Good.”

You blink. “Good?”

A faint smile tugs at his lips again.

“I was beginning to think I had lost my sense of control.”

You stare at him.

“You feel it that strongly?”

He meets your gaze. There’s no hesitation.

“No.”

A pause.

“Stronger.”

Your breath catches. That shouldn’t make your chest feel warm. It definitely shouldn’t make you smile.

But it does. Just a little.

And when he sees it, his expression softens in a way that makes something inside you ache.

“This is a bad idea,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

“Probably,” he agrees easily.

You huff out a quiet breath. That wasn’t the response you expected.

“You’re not going to argue?”

“I could,” he says, tilting his head. “But I don’t think either of us would listen.”

He’s not wrong.

Silence again.

You study him for a moment before you can stop yourself.

“Why did you become a Jedi?” you ask suddenly.

The question slips out without warning. He doesn’t seem surprised.

“I was taken in young,” he says. “Like most of us.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His gaze flickers, curious.

“You had a choice,” you continue. “At some point.”

Everyone does.

Stay. Leave. Commit.

Or don’t.

“…I stayed,” he says simply.

“That’s not an answer.”

A pause.

“Because I believed in it,” he says quietly. “In balance. In helping people. In something bigger than myself.”

You watch him carefully.

“And now?”

His gaze shifts slightly—back to you.

“Now,” he says, softer, “I’m trying to understand what the Force is telling me.”

Your chest tightens. Because you already know what he means.

And that… that’s dangerous.

You look away first.

“We should rest,” you say.

A deflection.

He notices. But he doesn’t push.

“Alright.”

He stands, pausing for just a moment—

Like he wants to say something else.

He doesn’t.

“Goodnight,” he says instead.

“…Goodnight.”

He leaves.

And somehow, the room feels emptier than it did before.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The next day, something changes.

It starts small.

A shared glance. A quiet understanding during mission prep.

A brush of fingers when you both reach for the same datapad.

You pull back immediately. But the contact lingers.

Electric.

You expect him to step away.

To create distance. To remind you of what this is. What it isn’t allowed to be.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he just looks at you.

Soft. Warm.

Like the galaxy isn’t burning just beyond this moment.

“You can have it,” he says, nodding toward the datapad.

“I don’t need it,” you reply quickly.

“You reached for it first.”

“So did you.”

He smiles again.

And this time, it’s brighter. You feel it like sunlight.

“Then we’ll share.”

You blink.

“That’s not standard protocol.”

“No,” he agrees. “It isn’t.”

And yet—

He doesn’t let go. Neither do you.

And for a moment—

It feels like something simple.

Something normal.

Something you were never meant to have.

Later, when you’re alone again, you sit with that feeling.

Turning it over in your mind.

Careful. Cautious. Afraid to name it.

Because once you do—

You won’t be able to pretend anymore.

And the truth is already there.

Quiet. Unavoidable.

Growing stronger with every shared glance, every soft word, every moment that feels too easy.

Too right.

You’re starting to like him.

And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The planet greets you with dust and heat.

It clings to everything—the air, your robes, your skin—like the world itself is tired of being fought over.

Outer Rim planets are always like this.

Worn down. Forgotten.

Left to survive whatever the galaxy throws at them.

You step off the ship beside Seonghwa, boots sinking slightly into the uneven ground. The horizon stretches endlessly, broken only by crumbling structures and the distant hum of machinery struggling to keep up with a failing system.

“This place…” you murmur.

“Has been holding its breath for a long time,” Seonghwa finishes quietly.

You glance at him.

He’s already observing everything—guards stationed too tightly, civilians moving too carefully, tension woven into every corner like a wire pulled too taut.

“You can feel it,” you say.

It’s not a question. He nods.

“The Force is… strained here.”

That’s one way to put it.

To you, it feels like standing in the middle of a storm that hasn’t decided when to break.

And somehow—

Standing next to him makes it easier to breathe.

You hate that. You really do.

Because it means you’re already relying on him more than you should.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The negotiations don’t go well.

They never do.

Voices rise quickly, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The local leaders argue over resources, over control, over survival—each word sharper than the last.

You stand behind your master, posture straight, expression neutral.

A Jedi does not interfere unless necessary. A Jedi observes.

Listens. Waits.

But your attention—

Your attention drifts.

Not away from the situation. Never that.

But… sideways. To him.

Seonghwa stands a few steps away, calm despite the chaos, hands folded neatly in front of him. His gaze moves between the speakers, attentive, calculating.

But every so often—

It flickers to you.

Quick. Subtle.

Like he’s checking that you’re still there. That you’re okay.

It shouldn’t matter to you. It really shouldn’t.

And yet, when one of the delegates slams their hand against the table, voice rising in frustration—

Your shoulders tense. And Seonghwa’s gaze snaps to you instantly.

Not to the conflict. 

You.

Your eyes meet for half a second. And something passes between you.

Not words. Not even a thought.

I’ve got you.

You exhale slowly, tension easing before you even realize it.

This is really dangerous. You know it is.

But the Force hums softly, like it approves.

It’s late by the time you return to your temporary quarters.

The building assigned to the Jedi is barely holding together—cracked walls, dim lighting, the faint buzz of unstable electricity. It’s not comfortable, but you’ve stayed in worse.

You sit on the edge of your cot, pulling off your gloves slowly.

Your mind should be on the mission.

On strategy. On the next steps.

Instead—

It replays small things.

The way he stood slightly closer when tensions rose. The way his presence seemed to steady yours without effort.

The way your thoughts keep drifting back to him like they’ve already learned the path.

You press your palms against your eyes.

“This is a problem,” you whisper.

The Force offers no argument.

If anything, it feels amused.

A soft knock breaks the silence.

Your heart stumbles. You already know who it is.

“Come in,” you say, before you can second-guess it.

The door slides open, and Seonghwa steps inside.

He looks… softer like this.

Without the formal setting. Without the constant watch of others.

Just him.

“I wanted to check on you,” he says.

Your chest tightens.

“I’m fine.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“You say that a lot.”

“…Because it’s true.”

“Is it?”

You hesitate. And that’s answer enough.

He steps closer, slow and careful, like approaching something fragile.

“You were tense earlier,” he says. “During negotiations.”

“That’s normal.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “But you didn’t relax until…”

He trails off. You don’t need him to finish.

“Until you looked at me,” he says softly.

Your breath catches. You look away.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You swallow.

“It means I was refocusing.”

“On me.”

“That’s not—”

“You can be honest,” he interrupts gently. “At least with me.”

That’s the problem. You don’t know how to lie to him. Not properly.

Not when he looks at you like that—like he’s not judging, not expecting, just… listening.

“I felt… steadier,” you admit finally.

The words are quiet. Barely there.

But they hang between you like something fragile.

He doesn’t smile this time. Doesn’t tease.

He just nods.

“I felt it too.”

Your gaze flickers back to his.

“You did?”

He takes another step closer. Now there’s barely any space between you.

“Yes,” he says. “Like everything else faded for a moment.”

Your heart is beating too fast.

“That’s not how the Force is supposed to work.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “But it’s how it works with you.”

You don’t know what to do with that.

So you do nothing. You just… stand there.

Feeling it.

The pull. The warmth.

The quiet understanding that seems to exist only when you’re near each other.

“You should rest,” you say eventually, even though you don’t want him to leave.

He nods.

But he doesn’t move right away.

“Goodnight,” he says softly.

“…Goodnight.”

He turns. Pauses.

Then glances back.

And for a split second—

You think he might say something more.

He doesn’t. He leaves.

And you’re left standing there, staring at the door long after it closes.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The next day is worse.

Because now, you’re aware of everything. 

You train together in the courtyard, away from prying eyes. 

At least—that’s the excuse.

“Your footing is off,” he says, circling you slowly.

You narrow your eyes. “It is not.”

“It is,” he replies calmly. “You’re leaning too much on your back leg.”

“I’m adjusting for the terrain.”

“You’re compensating.”

You huff.

“Show me, then.”

A mistake.

The moment the words leave your mouth, you realize what you’ve done.

Because now—

He steps closer. Much closer.

“Alright,” he says softly.

His hand rests lightly on your waist.

Everything stops.

Your breath. Your thoughts. The world.

It’s such a simple touch. Barely anything.

Guiding. Innocent.

But the moment it happens—

The Force surges.

Warm. Bright. Overwhelming.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently shifting your stance. “You need to center yourself.”

You can’t focus.

Not when his hand is still there. Not when his voice is that close. Not when your entire body is suddenly aware of him in a way it has no right to be.

“Like this?” you manage, voice quieter than intended.

“Mm,” he hums softly.

Too soft.

You risk a glance at him. He’s already looking at you.

Of course he is.

Your faces are too close. You didn’t even realize when that happened.

“Better,” he says.

But he doesn’t move away.

Neither do you.

The moment stretches.

Fragile. Dangerous.

The Force hums between you, almost… content. Like this is how it’s supposed to be.

“Seonghwa—”

Your voice barely comes out. He exhales slowly.

“I know.”

But he still doesn’t let go.

And for a moment—

You let yourself lean into it.

Just a little. Just enough to feel what it’s like to not pull away.

To not resist. To just to be.

It doesn’t last. Of course it doesn’t.

A distant explosion breaks the moment. Reality crashes back in.

You step apart immediately. So does he.

The connection snaps—but not completely.

You both turn toward the sound.

Duty comes first.

“Stay close,” he says.

You nod.

The attack comes fast.

Blaster fire cuts through the air, chaos erupting across the settlement. Civilians scatter, guards shouting over each other as everything dissolves into panic.

You move on instinct.

Deflect. Push. Protect.

But this time, you’re not alone. You feel him beside you before you see him. 

Your movements sync without thought.

You turn—he covers. He advances—you follow.

The Force flows between you like it recognizes the pattern. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“Left!” you call.

He’s already there.

“Behind you.”

You spin, blocking just in time.

It’s seamless. Effortless. Terrifyingly natural.

And in the middle of all that chaos, you find yourself smiling.

Because this.

This feels right.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

At some point, you get separated.

It happens quickly. Too quickly.

One moment he’s there.

And the next. He’s not.

Your chest tightens immediately.

“Seonghwa?” you call, deflecting another bolt.

No response.

The Force flickers. Distant. Muffled.

Your heart starts racing.

No.

No, no—

You push forward, cutting through the chaos, searching.

And then—

You feel him.

Strong. Steady.

You turn—

And there he is. Across the rubble. Looking at you like he’s been searching too.

For a second—

Neither of you moves.

You both exhale at the same time. Relief floods the connection.

Warm. Overwhelming.

You make your way back to each other quickly.

“Are you alright?” he asks immediately.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine.”

“You say that a lot.”

He blinks. Then laughs.

Soft. Breathless.

You didn’t know Jedi Knights could sound like that. You didn’t know he could sound like that. It does something strange to your chest.

“You remembered,” he says.

“Of course I did.”

The words come out too easily. Too naturally.

His expression softens.

And for a moment—

The battle fades again. Just a little.

Later, when everything settles—

When the fires die down and the night grows quiet again, you sit beside each other on the edge of a broken structure, watching the stars.

No words. Just… presence.

Your shoulders brush. Neither of you move away.

“You were worried,” he says eventually.

You glance at him.

“So were you.”

He doesn’t deny it. A pause.

“I don’t think this is something we can ignore anymore,” he admits.

Your chest tightens.

“I know.”

“But I also don’t think…” he hesitates, searching for the right words, “that it’s something we need to fear.”

You let that settle.

The Force hums softly around you, like it agrees.

“Maybe not fear,” you say slowly. “But… caution.”

“That too.”

Another quiet moment passes.

Then, without thinking, your hand brushes against his.

But this time, you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

Your fingers rest there.

Light. Careful.

But real. So, so real.

And for the first time, you let yourself have it.

Just this. Just now. Just him.

Because tomorrow—

You might not be able to.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The nights become your favorite part.

That, in itself, is dangerous.

Because nights are when things slip. When rules soften at the edges. When silence stretches long enough for feelings to grow where they shouldn’t.

And lately, every night seems to end the same way.

With him.

It starts without intention.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You just happen to stay out a little longer after patrol. He just happens to finish his duties at the same time. 

You both just happen to end up in the same place. That broken structure overlooking the settlement, where the stars feel closer than they should.

At first, you sit apart. A respectful distance.

Careful. Measured.

But slowly, over time, that distance disappears.

Tonight is no different.

You arrive first.

The sky is clearer than usual, scattered with stars that shimmer faintly through the lingering dust in the atmosphere. The air is cooler, quieter—the kind of stillness that only comes after chaos.

You sit on the edge, knees drawn slightly inward, watching the horizon.

You don’t have to wait long. You feel him before you hear him.

That steady warmth in the Force. That familiar pull.

“You always get here before me.”

His voice is soft as he approaches. You don’t turn right away.

“I like the quiet.”

A pause.

Then—

“So do I.”

He sits beside you.

Close. Closer than before.

Your shoulders brush lightly.

Neither of you acknowledges it. But neither of you moves away.

For a while, you just sit there.

No words. Just breathing. Existing next to each other.

“This feels wrong,” you murmur eventually.

You don’t know why you say it.

Maybe because if you don’t, you’llforget.

“Does it?” he asks.

There’s no judgment in his tone. Just quiet curiosity.

“Yes,” you say. “We shouldn’t be… like this.”

“Like what?”

You hesitate. You could pretend you don’t know what he means. But that would be a lie.

“…Close.”

The word feels too small for what this is.

He hums softly.

“But we are.”

You exhale, almost a laugh.

“That’s not helping.”

“Wasn’t meant to.”

You glance at him.

There’s something gentle in his expression tonight. Softer than usual.

“Then what is meant to help?” you ask.

He considers that for a moment.

“This.”

Before you can react—

His hand shifts slightly, brushing against yours again.

Not accidental this time. Intentional.

Your breath catches.

The contact is light. Barely there.

But the Force—

The Force flares.

Warmth spreads through your chest, down your arms, settling somewhere deep and quiet inside you.

It doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore.

It feels…right.

“You’re not pulling away,” he notes softly.

“I know.”

“…Why?”

You swallow.

Because that’s the question, isn’t it?

The one you’ve been avoiding. The one you don’t want to answer out loud. Because once you do, there’s no going back.

“I’m tired,” you say instead.

He tilts his head slightly.

“Tired?”

“Of pretending I don’t feel this,” you admit quietly.

The words hang between you.

Fragile. Honest.

He doesn’t speak immediately.

But his fingers shift. Just slightly.

Hooking with yours.

You inhale sharply. 

It’s such a small thing. Holding hands. 

Something simple. Something normal. Something you’ve never had.

Your grip tightens before you can stop yourself.

You expect him to let go.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his thumb brushes lightly against the back of your hand.

Soft. Careful. Like he’s learning you.

Your chest aches.

“Seonghwa…” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again.

But this time—

His voice sounds a little less certain.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The days start to blur together after that.

Because once you cross that line—evenjust a little—it’s harder to go back.

It’s in the small things.

The quiet ones. The ones no one else notices.

But you do.

He stands a little closer during briefings.

Not enough to draw attention. But enough that your shoulders almost touch. Enough that you can feel his presence without even looking.

He hands you things instead of setting them down.

A datapad. A tool.

Your lightsaber once.

Your fingers brushed every time. Lingering just a second longer than necessary.

He looks for you. Constantly.

In every room. In every crowd.

And when he finds you—

There’s always that small, almost imperceptible shift in the Force.

Like something settling into place.

And there are the quiet moments.

“You’re overthinking again.”

You glance up from where you’re sitting, frowning slightly.

“I am not.”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve been staring at the same line for five minutes.”

You look back at the datapad. He isn’t wrong.

“I’m analyzing,” you correct.

“You’re spiraling.”

“I am not spiraling.”

He hums, unconvinced, and moves closer—

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him at your side.

“Here,” he says, reaching over.

His hand covers yours briefly as he scrolls the datapad.

You freeze.

He doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he’s pretending not to.

“This section,” he continues, voice soft and focused, “you’re reading it too literally.”

You try to concentrate. You really do.

But it’s difficult when his hand is still resting over yours. When his shoulder is brushing against yours.

When your entire awareness is split between the mission and the way your heart won’t stop racing.

“You’re not listening,” he murmurs.

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

You sigh, closing your eyes briefly.

“Okay, maybe I’m not.”

A soft laugh escapes him.

It makes something in your chest ache in a completely different way.

“You’re impossible,” he says.

“You’re distracting.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“It absolutely is.”

He smiles. And it lingers.

It happens again that night.

You don’t mean for it to. You don’t plan it.

But somehow—

You end up back there.

Together. Under the stars.

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

The question slips out before you can stop it. Seonghwa turns slightly, surprised.

“Leaving the Order?”

You nod.

He’s quiet for a moment.

“No.”

You look at him.

“Not even once?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ve thought about… change,” he says carefully. “About whether the Order always understands the Force the way it should.”

That doesn’t surprise you.

“But leaving?” he continues. “No.”

Your chest tightens.

“Why?”

He looks at you.

And something shifts. Something deeper.

“Because everything I’ve ever known is tied to it,” he says. “My purpose. My identity.”

A pause.

“And now?”

You don’t know why you ask. Maybe you do.

His gaze doesn’t waver.

“Now,” he says softly, “it’s more complicated.”

Your breath catches.

“Because of this?” you whisper.

He nods.

“Because of you.”

The world goes very, very quiet. You stare at him.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmur.

“But it’s true.”

“That doesn’t make it safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe.”

The words hit harder than anything else he’s said. You shake your head slightly.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

His voice is steady. Certain.

“I want it to be real.”

Your chest aches.

Because this. This is real.

And that’s exactly why it’s going to hurt.

“Seonghwa…” you start, but the words won’t come.

He shifts closer. Slowly.

Giving you time to stop him. You don’t.

He lifts his hand. Then gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath stutters. The touch lingers.

Just for a second. But it feels like forever.

“You feel it too,” he says quietly.

It’s not a question.

You nod.

“Yes.”

The word is fragile. But it’s enough.

It’s everything.

For a moment—

Everything aligns.

The war. The rules. The expectations.

They all fade into the background.

And there’s just this.

Just you. Just him.

Just the space between you that’s slowly, inevitably disappearing.

His hand doesn’t drop. It stays near your face. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too quickly.

Your heart is racing.

You should stop this. You should step back.

You should remember who you are. What you are. What this will cost.

But instead—

You lean in. Just slightly. Just enough that your forehead almost brushes his.

His breath catches. So does yours.

“Is this a mistake?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he closes the distance.

Barely. Just enough that your foreheads touch.

“No,” he breathes.

And for the first time.

You believe it.

You stay like that for a while.

Foreheads pressed together. Breathing the same air. Sharing the same space.

The same moment.

Until reality creeps back in.

You pull away first. You have to.

Because if you don’t, you won’t stop.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whisper.

His expression softens.

“I know.”

“But we will,” you add, almost helplessly.

A faint smile tugs at his lips.

“Probably.”

You huff out a quiet breath.

This is a disaster. A beautiful, soft, inevitable disaster.

And deep down, you both know—

It’s only a matter of time before something breaks.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You don’t mean to stay in his arms that long.

At least—

That’s what you tell yourself.

But the moment you relax against him, something in your chest finally settles in a way it hasn’t in days—maybe longer.

Maybe since before you even realized what this was.

Seonghwa doesn’t rush you.

He doesn’t tighten his hold or pull you closer like he could.

He just… stays.

Like he’s giving you space even while holding you.

And somehow—

That makes it harder to let go.

“You’re going to make this impossible,” you murmur into his shoulder.

His hand shifts slightly at your back, thumb brushing once—absentminded, gentle.

“I think it already is.”

You huff a quiet breath.

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s honest.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. 

Your hands are still lightly gripping the fabric of his robes. You don’t remember when you grabbed onto him.

You don’t let go.

“You’re too calm about this,” you say.

“I’m not calm,” he replies softly.

You blink.

“You’re not?”

A small, almost disbelieving smile touches his lips.

“I just don’t panic in the same way you do.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You both fall quiet again.

But it’s not awkward. Not anymore. Not like before.

Now—

Everything feels… known.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than it should.

Tracing familiar things you’ve started to memorize without realizing.

The curve of his lips. The softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

Like you’re something precious. Something important. Something he doesn’t want to lose.

Your chest tightens.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” you whisper.

“Like what?”

“Like I matter more than I should.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“You do.”

The words land softly.

But they echo.

Loud. Heavy. Unavoidable.

“Seonghwa…”

His name feels different now.

Warmer. Closer.

Yours.

“I mean it,” he says, quieter this time. “This isn’t something small to me. It’s not just—” he exhales, searching, “—a distraction. Or a moment.”

You swallow.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

You nod. Because you do.

You feel it every time the Force shifts when he’s near. Every time your thoughts drift back to him without permission.

Every time you try to let go. And fail miserably.

“That’s why this is so dangerous,” you say.

“Or maybe that’s why it’s worth it.”

You shake your head slightly.

“You’re supposed to be the rational one.”

“I am,” he says.

A pause.

“This is me being rational.”

That makes you laugh softly.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Silence settles again.

But this time—

It feels different. Heavier.

Like something is building.

Something inevitable.

“We’re running out of time.”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

Seonghwa stills.

“I know.”

“They’re going to separate us.”

“I know.”

“And if they don’t—”

“They will.”

Your chest tightens.

Because there’s no fighting that truth.

“So this is it?” you ask quietly.

His gaze sharpens.

“No.”

“Seonghwa—”

“No,” he repeats, firmer this time. “This doesn’t have to be where it ends.”

“Then where does it end?” you ask, voice trembling slightly. “Because I don’t see a version of this where we don’t lose something.”

“We already knew that,” he says softly.

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

“No,” he agrees. “But it makes it real.”

You look at him.

At the certainty in his eyes. At the way he’s choosing this.

Choosing you.

Even after knowing the cost. And something in you shifts.

Because you’ve been afraid this whole time.

Afraid of what this means. Afraid of what you might lose.

Afraid of falling for him.

But you’re already falling. You have been. For a while now.

“I don’t want to regret this,” you whisper.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

He lifts his hand slowly. His fingers brush your cheek.

Warm. Gentle. Reassuring.

“Because I already don’t regret you.”

Your breath catches.

And suddenly, everything becomes very clear.

There is no safe version of this. No version where you walk away untouched. No version where this doesn’t matter.

So maybe—just maybe—

The choice isn’t about avoiding the fall. Maybe it’s about choosing who you fall with.

“Okay,” you breathe.

The word is small. But it changes everything.

His expression softens immediately.

“Okay?” he echoes.

You nod. Your heart is racing.

“But just this moment,” you add, almost helplessly. “Just… now.”

A faint smile touches his lips.

“Just now.”

It’s a lie. You both know it. 

But neither of you call it out.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The call comes the next morning.

You stand in the hangar again. Just like before.

Except this time—

Everything feels heavier.

Your reassignment is final. The ship is ready.

Your master is waiting.

You don’t look at Seonghwa right away.

Because if you do—

You might not leave.

“Padawan.”

Your master’s voice is firm.

You step forward.

But you stop. Just for a second.

And you turn.

He’s there.

Standing a few steps away. Watching you.

Not trying to hide it anymore. Not pretending.

You walk toward him.

Ignoring everything else. Everyone else.

“You’re leaving,” he says quietly.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“For now.”

His gaze flickers.

“Not forever?”

You shake your head.

“No.”

Because something has changed.

Not the rules. Not the galaxy. Not the war.

But you.

“This doesn’t end here,” you say softly.

It’s not a promise.

Not fully. But it’s close.

His expression softens.

“Good.”

You hesitate.

Then—

You reach for his hand.

Quick. Subtle.

Hidden from everyone else.

But the Force—

The Force feels it.

Bright. Warm. Unbreakable.

“I’ll find you again,” he says.

Your chest tightens.

“I know.”

You let go.

Before anyone can see. Before it becomes too obvious.

You board the ship.

And this time—when it leaves with you in it—

It doesn’t feel like an ending.

It feels like something unfinished. Like something still waiting out there.

Between stars. Between time.

Between everything you’re supposed to be, and everything you’ve chosen to be instead.

And even as the distance grows—

You still feel him.

Faint. Steady.

Like starlight.

Not meant to be held. 

But never truly gone.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2026

Seonghwa knows the moment you heard him.

He sees it in the way the air changes.

You don’t slam doors. You don’t cry. You don’t confront him like people who still believe they deserve answers.

You simply… withdraw.

At breakfast, you sit straight-backed, eyes fixed on your plate. You thank the staff politely. You don’t look up when he enters.

That terrifies him.

Because silence like that isn’t anger.

It’s resignation.

He dismisses the guards early that night. Cancels meetings. Locks the east wing himself. 

By the time the mansion settles into uneasy quiet, he’s already made a decision that would get him killed if anyone knew.

He’s going to tell you the truth.

No euphemisms.

No protection-through-distance. No lies disguised as strategy.

Even if it costs him everything.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You don’t open the door when he knocks.

He doesn’t blame you.

“Please,” he says softly, forehead resting against the wood. “Just listen. You don’t have to forgive me.”

Silence.

Then—slow footsteps.

The door opens just enough for you to look at him. Your face is blank in a way he’s never seen before.

“What?” you ask.

He swallows. “I lied to you.”

A pause.

“That’s not new.”

The words hurt more than any bullet ever has.

“I said what I said because men were listening,” he continues hoarsely. “Men who would have put a gun to your head if they believed you mattered to me.”

“And you chose them,” you reply.

“No,” he says immediately. “I chose to make myself the villain so you could live.”

You laugh quietly. It’s worse than shouting. “You don’t get credit for that.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m not asking for it.”

He steps inside, careful, like approaching a wounded animal.

“I’ve been protecting you in ways you never saw,” he says. “Contingency plans. False vulnerabilities. Entire operations redirected so no one would suspect.”

You look away. “So I’m a secret.”

“Yes,” he admits. “And that’s what I’m done with.”

That finally gets your attention.

He reaches into his jacket and places a phone on the table between you.

“Unlocked,” he says. “Everything I’ve done for you is in there. If you show it to the wrong person, I lose my head.”

You stare at it like it might explode.

“You’d risk your family?” you whisper.

He meets your eyes. “I already did. I just did it unknowingly.”

Your chest tightens.

“I won’t erase you anymore,” he says. “If they come for you again, they’ll know exactly why.”

“That will make it worse,” you say.

“Yes,” he agrees. “But at least I won’t be lying to you while it happens.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The first consequence comes faster than even he expects.

At a formal dinner three nights later, a rival lieutenant smiles too long at you.

“You seem lonely,” the man says lightly. “Your husband keeps you at quite the distance.”

The room watches.

Seonghwa feels the shift—the moment where silence becomes a test.

He stands. Walks over.

Places his hand around your waist.

Possessive. Unmistakable.

“She’s not lonely,” he says evenly. “She’s protected.”

The lieutenant laughs. “By pretending she doesn’t exist?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer.

He draws his gun and shoots the man through the leg.

The sound is deafening. Blood splatters on the marble.

You gasp.

Seonghwa doesn’t even look down.

“Anyone else unclear,” he says calmly, “about where my priorities lie?”

No one speaks.

That night, in the quiet aftermath, his hands shake for the first time.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say.

“Yes,” he replies. “I did.”

And somewhere in the city, someone decides you’re worth bleeding for again.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The city doesn’t punish Seonghwa immediately.

It watches.

That’s always worse.

The dinner incident becomes a story that mutates by the hour—details twisted, intentions debated, loyalties weighed. 

Some say Park Seonghwa lost control. Others say he finally showed his hand.

No one says the most dangerous truth out loud: He chose his wife in public.

You feel the shift before you understand it.

The guards outside your door double. Routes change without explanation. Even the air in the mansion feels tighter, like everyone is holding their breath.

Seonghwa starts coming home later.

Not avoiding you, but visibly carrying the weight of decisions that don’t leave bruises where people can see them.

One night, you find him in the kitchen at three in the morning, sleeves rolled up, hands red in the sink.

Blood.

Your stomach drops. “Seonghwa.”

He looks up instantly. “It’s not mine.”

“That’s not comforting.”

He exhales and turns the tap off. Water drips slowly, loudly, into the basin.

“They tested me,” he says. “To see if the dinner was a performance.”

“And?”

“They won’t test me again.”

You sit across from him at the table. The distance between you feels fragile—like one wrong word could shatter it.

“Did you kill someone?” you ask.

“Yes.”

The honesty knocks the air from your lungs.

“For me?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “For the future where no one thinks they can touch you and survive.”

You don’t know how to hold on to that.

So you don’t try.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The retaliation doesn’t come from outside.

It never does.

It comes from inside the family—men Seonghwa has known since childhood, men who taught him how to shoot, how to bleed, how not to cry.

They don’t come for him. They come for you.

It’s subtle at first.

A driver who takes a different route.

A guard who doesn’t meet your eyes.

A delay in response time that lasts half a second too long.

Seonghwa notices everything.

He calls a meeting.

You’re not supposed to be there.

He brings you anyway.

The room is full of men who look at you like an equation they’re solving.

“This stops now,” Seonghwa says calmly. “Anyone who believes my wife is leverage is mistaken.”

A murmur ripples through the room.

One of the older men smiles thinly. “You’re letting emotion cloud judgment.”

Seonghwa tilts his head. “I’m letting clarity sharpen it.”

“You’re destabilizing decades of structure,” another snaps. “For one woman.”

Seonghwa’s gaze flicks to you.

Then back.

“Yes,” he says. “I am.”

Silence.

Then the first man chuckles. “You’ll regret that.”

Seonghwa nods. “You’re free to try and make me.”

The meeting ends.

The war begins.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You’re taken two nights later.

Not violently. Not loudly.

Efficiently.

A needle. Darkness. Cold concrete when you wake.

But something is different this time.

They don’t gloat. They look nervous.

Because Seonghwa didn’t scramble.

He didn’t beg. He didn’t negotiate.

He arrived.

Alone.

Hands visible. Gun holstered. Eyes empty of mercy.

“You shouldn’t have touched her,” he says calmly.

They laugh.

Until he shoots the first man through the throat.

Everything erupts.

Gunfire. Screaming. Chaos.

They drag you behind cover, trying to use you like a shield—but Seonghwa moves like he’s already dead.

He takes a bullet to the shoulder and doesn’t slow.

Another grazes his side.

He reaches you, cuts the restraints with shaking hands, and presses his forehead to yours for half a second.

“I’m here,” he breathes. “I’ve got you.”

Someone raises a gun behind him.

You scream his name.

Seonghwa turns and fires without looking.

The body drops.

Blood pools at his feet.

He pulls you up, shields you with his body, and walks out through smoke and sirens like the devil himself has come to collect.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

He collapses in the car.

Blood soaking through his shirt. Skin clammy. Breath shallow.

You hold his face with trembling hands. “Stay with me. Please.”

He smiles weakly. “You’re safe. That’s enough.”

“No,” you say fiercely. “You don’t get to leave now.”

He opens his eyes fully, pain sharpening them. “You stayed.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “So you’re staying too.”

The surgery lasts six hours.

You don’t leave the waiting room.

When the doctor finally comes out, exhausted but steady, you stand before he can speak.

“He’s alive,” the doctor says.

Your knees give out.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

When Seonghwa wakes, you’re there.

Not asleep. Not pretending distance.

There.

“You should have run,” he says hoarsely.

You take his hand. It’s warm. Solid. Real.

“I told you,” you reply. “I’m done being erased.”

Tears gather in his eyes. He doesn’t hide them.

“I bled,” he whispers. “Not because I had to. Because I wanted them to understand.”

“They do,” you say. “Everyone does.”

He squeezes your hand weakly. “Then let them come.”

And they will.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Seonghwa recovers too fast for a man who nearly died.

The doctor calls it stubbornness. The men call it necessity.

You know the truth.

He’s afraid that if he stops moving, the world will catch up—and take you from him again.

He returns to the mansion with stitches still pulling at his skin, a sling he ignores, and eyes that never fully rest. The staff watches him differently now. Not with reverence.

With unease.

Because kings who bleed publicly remind people that thrones are built on bodies.

And bodies can fall.

The betrayal finally surfaces on a rainy night, the kind that blurs the city into streaks of gray and red.

You’re half-asleep when the alarms scream.

Not external.

Internal.

Seonghwa is already moving before the first echo dies—gun in hand, jaw clenched, fury sharp enough to taste.

“Stay here,” he orders.

You grab his wrist.

“No.”

He looks at you, and for a heartbeat you see the old instinct—to lock you away, to protect you by exclusion.

Then he nods.

“Behind me,” he says.

You don’t argue.

The east wing is in chaos. 

Smoke. Shouting. Men you recognize turning their guns inward.

One of them—someone Seonghwa once trusted—steps forward, weapon raised.

“This ends tonight,” the man sneers. “You’ve gone soft.”

Seonghwa laughs.

It’s empty. Terrible.

“I became honest,” he replies. “You mistook that for weakness.”

The man gestures toward you. “She’s the problem.”

Seonghwa fires.

No warning. No speech. No mercy.

The man hits the floor hard.

You don’t flinch.

Neither does he.

Afterward, when the smoke clears and the traitors are dead or gone, Seonghwa leans heavily against the wall, blood seeping through his bandages where he tore something open.

You rush to him.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He exhales, shaky. “I know.”

You press your forehead to his chest, feeling the uneven thud of his heart.

“I’m not leaving,” you whisper. “No matter what they say. No matter what this costs.”

He closes his eyes.

“Don’t promise that lightly,” he murmurs. “This world eats people alive.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “Then stop trying to survive it alone.”

Something in him gives.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The council convenes within forty-eight hours.

You’re not invited.

You go anyway.

The room is cavernous and cold, filled with men who look at Seonghwa like they’re measuring a coffin.

“You’ve destabilized everything,” one says flatly. “Your wife has become a liability we cannot afford.”

You step forward before Seonghwa can speak.

“I’m right here,” you say. “You don’t need to talk about me like I’m already dead.”

Gasps ripple through the room.

Seonghwa turns, startled. “You shouldn’t—”

“I should,” you say quietly. “I’ve been silent long enough.”

A man scoffs. “This is exactly the problem.”

Seonghwa straightens.

“No,” he says. “This is the solution.”

He reaches for your hand.

Public. Unapologetic.

“She stays,” he continues. “And if that means I lose this seat—so be it.”

Threats follow. Consequences laid bare.

Exile. War. Death.

Seonghwa listens without interrupting.

Then he does something no one expects.

He removes his ring.

Places it on the table.

“This marriage started as a weapon,” he says. “If you think ending it will save you—try.”

Your breath catches.

“But understand this,” he adds, voice iron. “I am choosing her whether or not you acknowledge it. If you move against her, you move against me.”

Silence crashes down.

Finally, one man laughs bitterly. “You’d burn everything.”

Seonghwa nods once.

“Yes.”

That night, back at the mansion, the weight finally hits him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, breathing uneven.

“I might have just signed my own death warrant,” he says quietly.

You sit beside him.

“Do you regret it?”

He shakes his head immediately. “No. I regret every day before I stopped lying.”

You take his hands. They’re scarred. Rough. Still shaking.

“I don’t need you to be a king,” you say. “I need you alive.”

He looks at you like that’s harder.

“I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You’ll learn,” you say. “Or we’ll learn together.”

For the first time, he lets himself cry.

Just once.

Just enough.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The assassination attempt comes disguised as peace.

That’s how you know it’s real.

A ceasefire is announced—temporary, conditional, wrapped in polite language and false assurances. 

The council invites Seonghwa to finalize terms at an old estate outside the city. Neutral ground, they say. Symbolic.

Seonghwa doesn’t believe in symbols.

But he goes anyway.

Because running would prove them right.

Because staying away wouldn’t keep you safe—only visible.

You argue with him the entire drive.

“It’s a trap,” you say. “You know it.”

“I know,” he replies calmly.

“Then why are you going?”

He glances at you, eyes dark, steady. “Because they won’t stop until they see me bleed enough to believe.”

Your chest tightens. “You already did.”

“Not to them,” he says. “This is the last language they understand.”

The estate is old money and rot—cracked marble, dead fountains, guards posted too neatly. The air hums with the promise of violence.

Seonghwa squeezes your hand once before stepping out of the car.

“If it goes wrong,” he murmurs, “you run.”

You meet his gaze. “No.”

He exhales, something like acceptance crossing his face. “Then stay behind me.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The meeting lasts eleven minutes.

That’s all it takes.

The first shot comes from the balcony.

The second shatters a column inches from Seonghwa’s head.

Chaos erupts.

Men scatter. Guns come out. Someone screams your name.

Seonghwa turns just in time to take the bullet meant for you.

It hits him square in the chest.

He goes down hard.

Your scream rips out of you before you can stop it.

“SEONGHWA—”

You’re on the ground beside him instantly, hands slick with blood, pressing uselessly against the wound. His eyes flutter, unfocused.

“No,” you choke. “No, no, no—stay with me. Please.”

He smiles faintly.

Still trying to comfort you.

“They… won’t touch you again,” he whispers. “I made sure.”

Rage detonates inside you.

You grab his gun.

Stand.

And for the first time, they don’t see you as leverage.

They see you as a threat.

You fire.

Not wildly. Not blindly.

Purposefully.

The men responsible fall one by one. Guards hesitate—then lower their weapons when they realize the balance has shifted.

Sirens wail in the distance.

You drop to your knees beside Seonghwa again, shaking.

“Don’t you dare die,” you whisper. “You promised.”

His breath is shallow. His hand finds yours.

“I’m… trying,” he murmurs.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

The doctors later say he shouldn’t have survived.

Too much blood loss. Too close to the heart.

But Seonghwa has always been stubborn.

He wakes up three days later to your fingers threaded through his hair, your head resting on the edge of the bed.

“You look terrible,” he rasps.

You laugh through tears. “You got shot.”

“Worth it,” he says weakly.

You straighten, eyes blazing. “Don’t ever say that again.”

His gaze softens. “I didn’t mean the pain,” he says. “I meant the truth.”

The fallout is immediate.

The council fractures. The traitors are exposed—dead or disgraced. The estate becomes a crime scene, then a grave marker.

The throne doesn’t fall in flames.

It rots from the inside and collapses quietly.

Seonghwa is offered what remains.

He refuses.

“I won’t rebuild this,” he says. “Not like it was.”

They threaten chaos.

He shrugs. “Then let something new grow.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

You leave the city before it can decide what to do with you.

A smaller house. Fewer guards. Silence that feels earned, not dangerous.

Some nights Seonghwa wakes up gasping, hand clutching his chest where the scar lives.

You’re always there.

Some days you still remember the man who told the world you were nothing.

He remembers too. He never forgets.

That’s part of his penance.

One evening, months later, he kneels in front of you—not with a ring, not with power, not with an audience.

Just honesty.

“I ruined you with my fear,” he says. “And I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

You touch his face, thumbs brushing the scars.

“But you bled for the truth,” you reply. “And you stayed.”

He swallows hard. “I will spend my life proving it—if you let me.”

You pull him up.

Kiss him.

Slow. Real. Chosen.

Love isn’t a weakness.

It’s the only thing that survived the fire.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

© lcvejjoong, 2026

bf!seonghwa takes you to fancy restaurants for every holiday, every special event, every anniversary. we know he's a big foodie, if you are too it's a bonus, but even if you're not he always takes you somewhere that has at least something on the menu he knows you'll like. even if you can't always explore the world with him, you can explore through food <3

bf!seonghwa is the type to get you little gifts in every city he goes to. when he comes back from tour he sits you down in front of his suitcase and starts pulling out little thing after thing. a flower hair pin from a city known for flowers, a little alien plushie because one of the towns they were visiting had a craft fair and he thought you'd love this silly alien, a foreign candy in your favorite fruity flavor that he (correctly) guesses you've never tried and might enjoy. pretty much any time he sees something that reminds him of you, he's picking it up <3

bf!seonghwa likes sex to be clean, and since he knows it can't be, he tries to make it nice. he always cleans his sheets and fluffs his pillows before you come over, and he keeps the lights dim and lights a candle or sprays a fragrance he knows you like. he lays a towel down where you'll lay (and he also has a mattress protector under the sheets now, to make sure there's no leakage). after you arrive and when you eventually start making out and heavily petting each other, you move to his room and always think it's so nice and romantic that he prepares it for you~

bf!seonghwa also likes shower/bath sex because it's extremely easy to clean up after. he also likes the intimacy of slowly touching all over each other as you suds each other up, scrub each other's scalps, kiss and touch and explore and yeah, any time you take a shower with him you end up pinned against the wall while he fucks you from behind, watching his cock go in and out while conditioner soaks into your hair and soap bubbles drip down his torso.

bf!seonghwa isn't always a clean freak, don't worry about him too much when things start getting messy. he's a cum eater. plain and simple. when you blow him and he comes in your mouth, he likes to ask you to show him. you let it drip off your tongue and he catches it on his fingers and licks it off. he pulls you up to make out with you until the taste of his cum is gone, then repeat later once he's gotten your cum in his mouth. he enjoys cum sharing more than you expected him to

bf!seonghwa likes being fucked. likes being told he's a good girl. likes being called a cute little bunny. he preens and shows off and feels fluttery and happy when you praise him and say he's doing such a good job as he fingers himself open in front of you, getting himself ready to take your dick. when you fuck him, telling him he can take more and just to trust you even when he says he can't take it and needs you to slow down-- when you tell him he's being such a good girl and he needs to just take it for you a little while longer-- it makes him cry sooo prettily and come soooo hard his whole body tingles and his vision goes black around the edges. oh he might pass out, but you'll take good care of him <3

Bf!Seonghwa who – is very gentle and loving, the quiet romantic type. He doesn’t need grand gestures to prove anything; it’s in the way he speaks to you, touches you softly, and makes sure you always feel cared for and chosen.

Bf!Seonghwa who – genuinely enjoys shopping with you. He likes watching you try things on, hyping you up in the mirror, and picking matching sets together because it feels like a shared little world just for the two of you.

Bf!Seonghwa who – lets you do his makeup whenever you want. If you’re unsure about a new look, he’ll happily sit still and let you experiment on him, trusting you completely and secretly loving how excited you get.

Bf!Seonghwa who – has a natural caretaker instinct. When you’re sick, exhausted, or on your period, he automatically steps in—bringing you comfort, medicine, food, and anything else you might need without you having to ask.

Bf!Seonghwa who – loves listening to you talk about your day, even the smallest details. He’ll sit there completely focused on you, smiling softly and watching your expressions like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

Bf!Seonghwa who – always checks in when he’s busy. Even on tour or packed schedules, he makes time to text or call you just to hear your voice and remind you that you’re on his mind.

Bf!Seonghwa who – instinctively pulls you closer by the waist in crowded places. It’s protective and gentle, a quiet way of keeping you safe and making sure you stay right beside him.

Bf!Seonghwa who – shows love through acts of service and quality time. He likes doing things for you, buying little things that make your life easier, and simply being near you—watching you, listening to you, admiring you.

Bf!Seonghwa who – loves helping you choose outfits. Sometimes he’ll just take over entirely, laying everything out for you while you’re in the shower, from clothes to accessories to makeup, because he enjoys taking care of you.

Bf!Seonghwa who – loves kissing your hand. It’s a soft, romantic habit—walking together, fingers intertwined, and he suddenly lifts your hand just to leave a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Bf!Seonghwa who – loves buying you Lego flower sets and building them with you. It’s his way of combining a gift with quality time, sitting close together and enjoying something simple but meaningful.