JSHSHSBSBS SO GOOD 😭🥰

Flower Puff Boy — p.js

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

“Hey there. Mother’s Day?”

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

“Yeah,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does it mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were those even questions you could ask?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heeseung?” the guy repeats.

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

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

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

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

French marigolds. Jealousy. Huh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or?”

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

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

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

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

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

Jay furrows his brows. “I don’t?”

“Huh?”

A beat passes.

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

“Just me then?”

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

“Just you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Flowers and their meanings,” you clarify.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile, keeping it light. “Secret.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On Valentine’s, of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

— moriwood.

⋆｡°✩ pushing his buttons to finally make him confess

unsorted | nishimura riki x male!reader

pairing: childhood bestfriend!ni-ki x male reader genre: fluff, little bit of a build up of angst? i actually don't know ... words: 2.03k notes: trying something completely different and just getting these ideas out! i've always liked the 'childhood bestfriend' tropes and i think ni-ki definitely fills up the criteria. not meant to be a realistic take on ni-ki in anyway (since this is a fanfic lol) but something just loosely based on him. hope you like it!

You've been so focused on impressing your crush that you've completely overlooked Ni-ki's feelings for you. For a long time, he's harbored strong emotions, but he keeps them hidden while you excitedly talk about your crush and ask for his help getting closer to him. Ni-ki always shakes his head and tells you that his friend is not interested in you, but the truth is that every time you mention his friend, it stings a little more. He doesn't want to complicate your friendship by revealing how he truly feels.

Deep down, Ni-ki wishes you could see how much he cares for you. He's been there all along, offering support, even while dealing with his own heartache. While you focused all your attention on this new crush, they were just a new development, yet you seemed to put all your efforts into them at once. Ni-ki couldn't bear it at all.

One day, your teacher announces a group project, and you're in a group with your crush. You're thrilled, but you have no idea where his house is for the group meeting. Luckily, Ni-ki knows the area well and offers to accompany you. He can't resist helping you, even if it hurts him to see you so enamored with his friend.

"You sure you know his house?" you asked, fixing your backpack as you walked alongside your best friend.

"Ugh, it's not like I wanted to," Ni-ki sighed, trying to distance himself from the topic. Clearly, he doesn't care about the guy or the project. He only cares about you.

"But still!" you tugged his arm. "Thank you for taking the time to come with me..."

Ni-ki looked at you with his hands in his pockets. As he saw your golden smile appear, he couldn't help but be mesmerized by it. He couldn't tell whether he was living a dream or a nightmare — it was too hard to tell.

When you both arrive at your crush's house, you try to play it cool, but you can’t help but feel nervous. Your friends arrived shortly, joining you in your project as well. You’re eager to impress your crush, while Ni-ki stands silently beside you, feeling nothing but emptiness and sadness for himself.

As you start working on the project, you keep stealing glances at your crush, laughing at his jokes and trying to engage him in conversation. Ni-ki observes from the sidelines, noticing how your face lights up every time you look at his friend. Each giggle you share with your crush feels like a sharp reminder of what he can’t have, but he keeps quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment for you.

After a while, your friends suggest taking a break and playing some games to lighten the mood. You agree, thrilled to spend more time with him, while Ni-ki watches quietly, wishing he could take your place.

When one of your louder friends suggests the game of truth or dare, laughter fills the room. You sit there nervously as your friends take turns revealing secrets or completing silly dares.

Finally, when it’s your turn, you shyly choose 'dare.' Your friends, excited, dare you to kiss the person you like. You glance over at your crush, your heart racing with anticipation, while Ni-ki’s expression darkens just a bit, feeling the weight of the moment.

"I-"

"This is ridiculous," Ni-ki rose from his seat and quickly pulled you away from the group, who could only groan in dismay. Although it seems unlikely, your supposed crush had a small look of concern. But did it even matter?

"Riki..." you pleaded. "Your hand..."

But Ni-ki couldn't hear you. He didn't want anyone to see you with him at this moment, so he was determined to get you as far away from the others as possible.

"RIKI!!" you shouted. Ni-ki stopped as he saw you.

"You're... you're grip was too tight," you pointed at your arm, and he let it go immediately.

"S-sorry!" he apologized, rubbing your hand quickly. It was clear that he didn't mean to hurt you, but he felt a bit disappointed with himself anyway.

"Hehe, It's alright," you tried to smile for a bit, even though you had no idea what just happened.

You two stood there under the bright moon. It wasn't the best of days, but it was magical how the crickets sounded in the early hours of the night. You looked at Ni-ki, still confused. He couldn't speak at the moment, rethinking what he had intended to do.

"Riki-"

"Do you really like him?" he spoke in a deep voice. It wasn't the first time you heard it, but it sounded so serious now.

"I-"

"I can tell that you're trying too hard," Ni-ki looked at you with his eyes, filled with curiosity. "Too hard."

That didn't feel right, you thought. Why would Ni-ki say something like that so suddenly? Is he against the idea all of a sudden? Does he hate you for it? Does it matter who you want to like?

"Okay..." you sighed. "Can you just tell me what's happening? I thought you were supportive of me..."

Ni-ki looked at you, sincerity clear in his gaze. "I... I am!"

"But you don't feel like it!" you walked towards him.

Ni-ki could only look at you closely before you spoke again.

"Are you..." you took your time to say these words. It was the worst case, but what if it is now?

"Are you disgusted by what I'm feeling? By me?" you spoke hesitantly, knowing full well it wasn't the case.

Ni-ki shot a surprised look towards you, a shocked expression on his face. "N-no! Why would you say that!"

"Then why are you so against me having a crush on him!" you spoke loudly, not even sure if you sounded too loud at that point.

Ni-ki couldn't believe it. Of course, he could never judge you for who you wanted to love. Not in that way. It didn't matter to him what your choices were. Sure, he may be bad at expressing himself sometimes, but he always supported you no matter what.

And he liked it that way.

He liked you that way.

"Because I like you!" Ni-ki replied with his voice shaking in fear. Fear of letting you know, and the fear of possibly losing you. He couldn't handle it, saying the most outrageous thing that might drive you away from him.

"I like you," Ni-ki spoke softly. "I really do."

Ni-ki liked you? Since when?

When did this happen? How could you not see it?

Where was it when you looked for it?

Looked at him.

That way?

"Y...you..." you covered your mouth as you tried to take in his words. "No... no I-"

"I can explain-"

"How could you explain this to me!" you stepped back from him as he tried to come near, his face showing that he was really sorry.

"Are you even listening to what you're saying!"

"I- I do like you!"

Silence.

There was only silence.

Only two people, two best friends... two hearts talking to each other.

"Then ... why ... now..." Tears fell from your eyes as you said those words from your heart, out for your best friend to listen closely.

Why now? Why would your best friend like you when you've given up entirely on that idea?

At daydreaming a future of you and him?

At loving the one person who cared for you like nobody else could?

You punched and punched his chest as you sank to the soft ground. Ni-ki tried to comfort you by wrapping his arms around you. You could only cry even more as you breathed in his familiar scent. There was nothing else that you could say.

You were supposed to forget these feelings, but why do they need to come back like this? Now that you've tried so hard to keep them away from hurting you? Why?

"I... I'm sorry." Ni-ki tried to speak as his sniffling nearly choked him. "I'm sorry I couldn't be brave enough to even pursue you..."

You continued to cry, remembering how much you liked him. How much you appreciated everything he did. How you wanted to understand him so you could build a lasting relationship with this kind guy who got you language guides and taught you manners you wouldn't know otherwise.

You fell for him, and you wanted to fall even deeper, but you never had a clue he liked you back.

"You're so ... stupid!" you continued to hit his chest. It wasn't that hard, but it was enough to make Ni-ki wince. He didn't like it when you hurt. Whether it was a scratch, a burn, or a bully, he didn't want you to suffer at all. He wanted to hold you in his arms as much as he could.

"I am..." Ni-ki tried to speak, trying to hide his own sobbing. "I just... can't decide whether I should let you be with him... or stay with me."

You then began to feel terrible, listening to him being a sniffling mess. You looked back towards his barren features, immediately wiping his tears away.

"So ... you just needed a little push?"

Ni-ki nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I... I didn't know how to deal with these feelings." He spoke to you. "And even if I did, I couldn't find the courage. Not with you."

You sighed, sitting up as you cleaned your face. "C'mon, Riki. I told you; you've got the charm ... the confidence ... the looks ... the spirit."

Ni-ki looked at you, laughing softly.

"What?" You spoke as you took a good look at him.

"Are you seriously prepping me when I already confessed?"

"I mean, it's not too late to not do that, you know?"

You two shared a quiet moment, mere seconds, as you took your time to process it all.

"So you like me?" Ni-ki broke the silence with one simple question.

"Of course." You nodded. "How couldn't I? You were the perfect package."

"I couldn't even handle my own feelings." Ni-ki wiped his tears as he chuckled lightly. "Are you sure you're ready to take a chance on me?"

"Hey." You looked at him. "Do you really want me or not?"

"Psh. Of course I do."

"Then don't be scared and keep your word." You smiled at him, your eyes still watery. "Love me all you want. And let me love you all I want."

Ni-ki laughed brightly, holding your hands and putting them against his own.

"Okay." He agreed. "I'll love you for all time."

"All time?" You looked at him confused. "You mean forever?"

Ni-ki shook his head. "No. I meant for all time. Past, future, present, and every other moment."

As you raised your hands to his cheeks, he gently cupped them and rubbed his own palm upon yours. "All the moments that time can give me to love you ... that's what I want."

Now, it was your turn to smile back at him.

"You're crazy." You looked at him as you fixed his stray hair. "Then ... let me do that too."

Ni-ki's eyes went wide as you pulled him into a sweet kiss. Having it felt like a soft kind of candy, and not just because of the texture. His mouth tasted so much like a sweet dream, one you'll fall into easily and never want to leave.

"We're both fools, aren't we?" Ni-ki spoke as he broke away from your kiss.

"Very much so." You giggled. "A couple of fools."

"Definitely." Ni-ki said as he rested his head on your shoulder. "A couple."

"A couple it is." Niki rest his head on your shoulders, and exposed his own nape in front of you. Without any care in the world, you pressed your damp lips onto his soft skin, relishing the beauty of this occasion.

tried this new unsorted way of writing for stuff i couldn't just fit into compilations or a full series! also hopefully i did ni-ki's hypothetical highschool self good aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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

my masterlist!

made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ a gift from japan ✦ nishimura riki

he's not getting boring is he? he's not being too different from what you were before right? even if you say things to reassure him, it'll just bug his mind over and over … maybe he needs some ideas to spice it up? hmmm … i mean googling about it shouldn't hurt …

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — nishimura riki x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, lil cracky, will be suggestive, implied male!reader, implied long time relationship with riki, childhood friends (?), something's definitely going to happen and I will be SEATED

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — UHHH just know that ni-ki did this to himself, this is his FAULT for being so fuckin cute AFAGFRGFHRGHHGHHH!!!! dissapears from the face of the earth

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.3k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You sighed, rolling your stiff shoulders as you pushed open the front door, toeing off your shoes with a tired groan. Work had been a beast—endless meetings, last-minute revisions, and a client who seemed allergic to the word "deadline." All you wanted was to collapse onto the couch with your boyfriend and forget the world existed for a few hours.

But the moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

The usual clutter of Ni-ki’s dance gear and half-empty water bottles was gone. The living room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of candles—real ones, not the battery-operated ones you usually kept around because someone had nearly set the curtains on fire last time. The scent of something—was that garlic?—drifted from the kitchen, mingling with something floral. Roses?

Your eyebrows shot up.

"Riki?"

No answer.

A quick sweep of the apartment revealed the dining table—set with your good plates, the ones you only pulled out for special occasions. A single red rose lay across your napkin. The pasta in the center looked… charred at the edges, but the effort was unmistakable.

Your chest warmed. Anniversary. You’d completely forgotten.

A rustling sound came from the bedroom. And then, a thud.

Oh have you already figured it out.

"Riki?" you called again, voice laced with amusement. "If you’re hiding in there, I swear—"

The door creaked open.

And then—

Holy shit.

There he stood, bathed in the golden light of the bedside lamp, completely naked—save for the disaster of red ribbons haphazardly wrapped around his body.

As the door creaked, he turned towards you, face struck with disaster seeing you seeing him still not ready.

A stash of ribbon looped around his waist like a belt, others tangled around his biceps in a way that looked more accidental than artistic.

A single bow sat crookedly on his hip, barely clinging on. His face was flushed, his usually confident smirk wobbling into something painfully unsure.

"Shi- I mean ... Surprise?" He said, voice cracking.

You blinked. And then, you lost it.

A loud, unfiltered laugh burst out of you, doubling you over as you clutched your stomach. *"Oh my god—*what—what is happening right now?!"

Ni-ki’s expression flickered between mortification and defiance. "I—I researched this!" he insisted, gesturing wildly—which only made the ribbon around his wrist slip further. "It was supposed to be romantic!"

"Romantic?" you wheezed. "You look like a craft store exploded on you!"

"I panicked!" he whined, trying—and failing—to adjust the mess of fabric. *"The tutorial made it look easy, but then I couldn’t—why is this so complicated?!"

"Tuto- they have this on Youtube?!" You wheezed.

"Tumblr, okay? Tumblr!" Ni-ki whined, his art piece moving around as his frame did.

You wiped tears from your eyes, stepping closer. "Okay, okay—let me help." You gently tugged at a loose ribbon near his collarbone. "This one’s just… hanging here. Were you trying to tie it like a scarf?"

Ni-ki groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I give up. This is the worst anniversary surprise ever."

You bit back another laugh, cupping his cheeks. *"No, no—it’s perfect."

He peeked, slowly, through his slender fingers. "...Really?"

"Really," you grinned. "I mean, yeah, it’s ridiculous—but that’s you. My ridiculous, over-the-top, adorable boyfriend who—" You paused, eyes trailing down. "—somehow thought ribbons were the key to seduction."

Ni-ki pouted. "It worked, though."

You snorted. "Did it?"

"You’re looking," he pointed out smugly.

"Hard not to when you’re basically a present with a bow on your—" You gestured vaguely. "—well, everything."

He laughed then, bright and unrestrained, the sound melting into the apartment's quiet. For a moment, the absurdity of it all faded—the ribbons, the burnt pasta, the fact that you’d forgotten today was special. None of it mattered.

Because he was here. Yours.

You brushed a thumb over his cheek, voice softening. "You didn’t have to do all this, you know."

Ni-ki leaned into your touch, his earlier bravado fading into something quieter. "I wanted to. You’ve been working so hard… I just—" He hesitated. "I didn’t want you to think that ..."

'That?" You looked at him, with his eyes reciprocating a yearning gaze.

"That I was ... getting boring."

Your heart clenched.

"Hey," you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. "You could never be boring. You’re the guy who came up to me first when I was a new kid and showed me around Shibuya even though we hadn't told our parents about it."

Ni-ki laughed. "The same day too—"

"The same day too!" You chuckled. "That was my first day, and I went with the popular kid on a trip downtown!"

Both of you laughed at the memory, Ni-ki beating your arms as his body couldn't contain his laughter.

"Also, who proposed to me with a pack of those golden Haribo gummies he so hardly earned after a week and cried when I said yes. Who still tries to make me carry him to bed even though he's taller than me now—"

"You can still do it!" he protested.

"You're past 6 foot!"

"And I'm light as a feather—"

You kissed him.

Slow, sweet, lingering—until the tension in his shoulders melted away, until your hands found his waist, pulling him a bit closer.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were warm, his smile small but real.

"I love you," you whispered. "Ribbons or no ribbons."

Ni-ki exhaled, resting his head against your shoulder. "...Even if the pasta’s burnt?"

"Even then."

A beat of silence. Then—

"...So," he drawled, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. "Since you do like the ribbons…"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh my god."

"Wanna unwrap your gift?" His voice dropped, lips brushing your ear. "I hear it’s one of a kind."

You groaned, half-exasperated, half-aroused. "You’re impossible."

Ni-ki grinned, all teeth. "But you love me."

And as the candles flickered, as the pasta sat forgotten, as his hands slid under your shirt with far too much confidence for someone literally tangled in ribbons—

You couldn’t argue.

"Yeah," you breathed, tugging him back toward the bed. "I really do."

Right there, you could feel his warmth once again, bathing your lips in such sweet harmony.

The kiss deepened, slow and syrupy, his mouth against yours. The ridiculousness of the ribbons faded into the background—now all you could focus on was the way his hands slid up your back, the way his breath hitched when you bit his lower lip.

You pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth, "So. These ribbons."

Ni-ki grinned, all mischief. "What about them?"

"They're everywhere," you laughed, plucking at the one draped over his shoulder. "How did you even manage to find the time and prepare all this?"

He huffed, but his cheeks flushed darker. "I just had time, you know? Also, it's harder than it looks." His fingers twitched against your waist. "Maybe you should... help me out."

"Oh?" You arched a brow, dragging a fingertip along the ribbon circling his wrist. "You want me to fix this mess?"

Ni-ki’s breath stuttered. "I want you to take it all off."

Your stomach flipped.

Slowly, teasingly, you tugged at the loose end of the ribbon around his wrist. It unraveled with a whisper of silk, pooling at his feet. Your fingers trailed up his arm, following the path of another ribbon—this one looped haphazardly around his bicep. You tugged, and it slipped free, revealing the smooth, sun-kissed skin beneath.

Ni-ki watched you with half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling just a little faster now.

"Like what you see?" he murmured, voice rough.

You smirked. "I might."

Another ribbon, this one slung low around his waist, barely holding on. You tugged it free with a slow pull, letting your knuckles graze his hipbone. His breath caught.

"Tease," he accused, but he didn’t stop you.

You hummed, stepping closer, your chest nearly brushing his. "You wrapped yourself up like a present," you murmured, fingers skimming the last ribbon—the one pretending to cover him, tied in a loose bow at his hip. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

Ni-ki’s throat bobbed. "This," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your fingers curled around the final ribbon.

"Happy anniversary," you whispered back—

And pulled.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay i just had too THAT RECENT CLIP OF HIM RINGIN THE BELL AND PRESENTING HIMSELF?!?! HEAD TO TOE AS A GIFT?!?1 YES PLEASE?!?! so here is a fic based on that, you are SO welcome sahjfahfjas

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