Whisper in red, I’ll answer in black.

ᴀsᴛʀᴀ | 19 | ᴊᴜɴɢᴡᴏɴ ♡

[astrakim]

Welcome to my Enha brainrot corner!✨

Here you will find:

Delusions for enha? ☑️

The most romantic scenes? ☑️

The most toe curling scenes? ☑️

So get ready with your popcorns cuz this is gonna be a ride surely

wanna drift into my little universe? ⋆｡°✩

Masterlist

taglist is open!! (just dm)

[astrakim]

Crazyy to think!!

I don't feel good guyss tell him this is a dream

Nono This is April fools I'm quite sure of that

Noone is leaving no one is going ANYWHEREE!!! 😭😭🥹🥹

[astrakim]

TEXTS WITH BSF SUNGHOON

pairing: down bad sunghoon x oblivious reader

warnings: none

check out my masterlist if you’d let Sunghoon ruin your life respectfully 🙋🏻‍♀️

Likes and reblogs are really appreciated

© All rights reserved to astrakim

[astrakim]

✨ 100 followers special ✨

can’t believe there are a hundred of u here reading my delulu brainrot 😭

this one’s for u guys--- thank u for letting me be unserious on main n still sticking around 💌

masterlist linked if ur brave enough 👀

[astrakim]

TEXTS WITH BSF SUNGHOON

pairing: down bad sunghoon x oblivious reader

warnings: none

check out my masterlist if you’d let Sunghoon ruin your life respectfully 🙋🏻‍♀️

Likes and reblogs are really appreciated

© All rights reserved to astrakim

[boyfhee]

MATCHMAKER ✶ park jongseong

❛ just you, jay, and his six year old daughter who starts playing matchmaker when his coward of a dad can’t stop giggling at the thought of you. ❜

16O3O words of single dad jay ♥︎ kindergarten teacher reader

INCLUDES───fluff, humour, loads of cuteness, jay is a single girl dad, tired and a yearner through and through, matchmaker and menace of a daughter called ‘jiyu,’

WARNINGS───kissing, skinship, petnames, mentions of death ( not the reader or jay, ) drinking, lots and lots of hello kitty bye

CAELIN───round of applause for single dad jay !!!!! i have actually been thinking about this since i posted my very first single dad drabble. i’m super excited to share this with all of you. please lmk what you think & talk to me about this, it’s one of my forever favourites happy reading ◜ᴗ⁠◝ cr @yeokii for the beautiful banner i love u goat

PART ONE PART TWO ✶ please read these before diving into this one for everything to make sense hehe :3

OO1 FEARLESS

jay, nine, decided he was too cool to have fears.

you wouldn’t be afraid of something if you didn’t let it scare you.

insects, sure, they make his skin crawl. but scared? nah. he wasn’t scared when he tried to drive for the first time, when he went bungee jumping, or when he swam to the deeper part of the pool at the age of sixteen— fifteen feet to be exact. he was never scared of needles and ghost stories have always failed to amuse him.

then, he got married at twenty four, had the prettiest little baby girl at twenty six and lost the love of his life at twenty seven.

perhaps, the time he felt anything close to fear was his daughter’s angelic face scrunched up in painful sobs and he didn’t know what to do. second time, it was when she almost fell from the bed when she was two, third, probably when he accidentally broke her hello kitty headband when she was four.

mistakes happen, he is only human, and jay had trained himself through books and constant advice from his parents to be the father of the century. no, he still doesn’t have a fear.

and then cue a busy day at work, endless meetings and piles of files that need his signature. he sees the numbers on the clock go from two to three in the noon. and jay has never stormed out of his office faster than now.

jay, now thirty two, has a fear— getting late to pick his daughter up from school— and it’s coming to life right now.

he always makes it on time, or before, managing to buy her favourite snacks to surprise her on the way back. the mothers talk while he waits in his chic black maserati, they smile to themselves when they see her run to him with saccharine giggles and he scoops her up.

jay— ideal employee and father— was convinced he was second to no one.

but today, god, he might be just speeding beyond limits, frantically looking at the time and at the road alternatively. he’s scared his darling daughter would be crying. he is never late— well, except once. it was a year ago, he was still new to managing work with her school days. she was sitting in the empty classroom alone with the teacher working on the side. the look on her face that day felt like a knife through his heart, and he promised to her that he would never be late again.

but then, today was the second time and he doesn’t know if his car is racing faster or his heart as he pulls up in front of the kindergarten. hurrying out of the car, he basically runs through the entrance, silently hoping and praying she doesn’t look lonely like the first time. he stops, taking a deep breath, eyes falling wide at the sight of his daughter.

she’s giggling, trying to kick the football. she looks up at you for validation at her poor attempt, a toothy grin adorning his face when you clap your hands. his lips erupt into an involuntary smile at the sight of you exhibiting a defeated frown— albeit dramatically— when jiyu scores a goal.

his heart skips a beat, she is his entire world, and she is happy, laughing, enjoying herself, and then it’s you— jiyu’s pretty teacher and his, well, dream girl. he doesn’t know why his heart has sped up anymore.

“papa!” the cute, little voice pulls him out of his trance, and his lips curl into a fond smile as he gets on one knee to embrace his little princess, greeting her with a kiss on the temple.

“hi, princess,” he caresses her cheeks, eyes going over the mess she has made out of her clothes. it’s going to be a tough time getting all that dirt and paint out but gosh, anything for her. with jiyu’s head on his shoulder, his eyes settle on you, and his face heats up again. “sorry for being late,”

he gives you a slight nod, a wordless thank you for looking after jiyu and a quiet apology for keeping you occupied. and when you return the smile back, he starts going crazy. even after having a fair share of women in his life, you have managed to bewitch him with pretty eyes and the ability to make his daughter smile.

actually, he has been crazy about you since day one, even before he had seen you, known you, heard you. he remembers how jiyu would eat his ears off while rambling about how pretty you are— she still does, except he listens and agrees with her like he has never heard any truer words in his life.

before, he got up early and dressed her up for school because education is important. now, it’s because he’s just as excited as jiyu to see you. education is still there— you have simply managed to make it seem less important.

“it’s fine, we had fun together. right, lovebug?” you assure, tickling jiyu’s sides as she yelps while swatting your hand away playfully.

and his heart aches in the best way when she gets out of his embrace to play with you. jay can swear he could melt into a puddle with how cute you both are, your laughs music to his ears, like a melody he has been missing for years. you can call him out on his lack of responsibility for being fashionably late to picking his daughter up and he would listen to it all with a fond gaze.

he stands up, holding the grayish-blue blazer in his hand, unable to take his eyes away from you, only to blink back to reality when jiyu tugs on his trousers.

“papa, i scored two goals today!” she chirps, eyes wide and gleaming in expectation for some compliments from her beloved father.

“really?” she nods proudly and jay grins like he is the one who made the goals. he is far too proud of his little girl. ronaldo should be glad jiyu is more interested in hello kitty colouring books. “let’s buy some treats to celebrate,”

“treats!” she exclaims before immediately getting distracted by a butterfly, running off to the side.

and it’s quiet again.

his hands are sweating, butterflies cartwheeling in his stomach. you’re telling jiyu to be careful not to trip and jay, he has already fallen for you once again. words can never be enough to express how much he appreciates you taking care of her.

the way wind blows through your hair makes him sigh in adoration, your eyes the brightest thing in existence, even more than the stars. and jay has never been the one to get sappy but he would write sonnets for you.

it’s getting awkward, aside from jiyu’s attempts to catch the butterfly and the visible concern written in your face. with a deep inhale, he musters up all his courage, the thump in his chest getting louder. “thank you for looking after her,”

and when you look at him with a warm smile, eyes crinkling up in crescents, he wants to melt in your hands the very moment. “no worries, it’s my job,”

even your voice resonates of a song sung by angels— he can’t believe he is thinking all that at his grown age. he wants to slap his face or bang his hand on the wall to pull himself together. but again, you make him want to write letters in your name. he’s a hopeless case.

“she likes you a lot,” i do too, he wants to add, but he controls. he is a grown man, for god’s sake, and here you have him blushing and swooning like a teenager having the first encounter with love. it’s crazy— just a month ago he was losing his mind over his daughter fawning over you and now, he’s doing the same.

his next words are interrupted by his dear daughter’s stubborn whines. he knew she would give up on the butterfly soon, stomping her tiny feet back to him. she’s already sold to the treats and nothing can calm her before she gets her hands on them.

“papa, let’s go! i want treats!” and jiyu, she is relentless, pulling his hand towards his car while he looks at you helplessly. patience is all he has ever taught her and she is everything that reminds him of his late wife.

he shoots an apologetic smile in your direction and lets her drag him to the car, knowing he can never say no when she gives those doe eyes to get him to fulfill her demands. her tiny hands grip around his fingers that taught her to walk and pull him in one direction while his heart gravitates in another— and this is just the beginning.

jay has been thinking.

with slow hands stirring the soup, his wandering mind has once again decided to go back to you. he can feel jiyu’s curious eyes scanning his face— she sighs like a middle aged adult— and he clears his throat with intention.

“so…what does your pretty miss like?” he is cautious, obviously trying to play it cool as if it’s completely normal for a parent to ask that. he does not want to show his exact intentions, at least not yet.

jiyu looks up from the colouring book in confusion, crayons scattered above the kitchen counter. she presses her lips together, as if having a deep thought. “um hello kitty! and strawberries!” a pause, she tilts her head to the right. “why?”

why.

good question, a damn good question with no answer. even he is wondering why. does he like you? everyone does, he’d be crazy to find you unlikeable. does he want you? yes— no! he slaps himself mentally.

he looks over at his daughter and she is humming one of her favourite rhymes while colouring the unicorns. it reminds him how you were holding her hand to guide her over the outlines, teaching her how to fill the colours properly. he also remembers how you had kissed her cheek since she did a good job, and he almost wanted you to kiss him too— jay wants to bang his head into a wall.

he wants to stop thinking about you, to save himself from spiralling into madness. it is clearly not working, so he goes back to his initial mission.

“can you ask what her favourite flower is?” his voice is a little more cautious this time, eyes fixed on the soup as if he doesn’t want to throw away everything and only talk about you.

she looks up again. “why?” and he groans internally.

gosh, do her questions ever end?

“it’s good to know your teacher,” he is trying so hard to make it sound weird. he turns off the stove, one hand on the counter as he leans against it. “and you can give her flowers to make her happy! you like her, don’t you?”

jiyu doesn’t respond, completely engrossed in her messy crayon drawing with the tongue sticking out in concentration.

and then, a quiet whisper follows. “i think papa likes her more,”

he winces internally at her words, not wanting to hear those words from her, out of all people. it makes him sound like he is in denial and trying to avoid the topic— even though he is, but he is not going to admit it.

is he being that obvious? he has barely known you for a little over a month— that too, only at school pickups and boring parents teachers meetings that he now loves to attend. yes, he accepts that he looks at you a little longer than he looks at everyone else. he doesn’t look at anyone else, only you. and it was going to be just you for a very, very long time.

“what no— i mean yes, but no!” he is panicking, losing his mind. the words are jumbled inside his head and the look on jiyu’s face tells that she knows his poor papa is having a quarter life crisis.

of course, he likes you. he likes your smile, your soft voice while you’re talking to the kids, your eyes and the way they sparkle all the time as if they hold the stars. jay likes you a lot, he’s just not ready to admit that out loud, especially not to his tiny, nosy, love-struck little matchmaker.

and unfortunately enough for him, she’s not waiting for a ‘yes’ from him. “you do! you get red when you see her! and you smile at her videos!” jiyu claims with full confidence— she is right.

his eyes crinkle up in crescents whenever he comes across one of your baking videos. when jiyu told him about your baking channel for the first time, he pictured his future with you. he thinks it’s destiny— he loves to cook, you love to bake— it’s a match made in heaven, a written in the stars type of love story.

his heart flutters at your cute cutelery, the pretty ceramics and adorable bowls. it’s adorable. he can’t even see your face, just the sound of your soothing voice is enough to ease his mind.

“that does not mean i like her, darling,” but jay is a father, first and foremost, before a loverboy lying to his daughter about his feelings. he doesn’t need his six year-old walking special agent to know about the feelings bubbling in his chest.

at least, not yet.

jiyu gets back to her colouring book, shaking her pretty little head like a tired parent. it’s unbelievable that he refuses to accept it even after she has called out his red face whenever you are around. raising a dad is hard, she would say, he is always in denial.

and she is definitely going to do something about it. “lilies are pretty,” she mumbles, not looking up from her colouring book but she knows she has all his attention. “you like lilies too!”

it makes hundred percent sense in her tiny brain that’s working overtime.

jay likes lilies, he gives you lilies, you end up liking lilies too— she hopes you will— you both bond over lilies and get closer and kiss. it’s the perfect scheme ever, she has seen it in one of the princess movies. well, not exactly, because the flowers were magical but nonetheless, she hopes the lilies do the work.

she’s devising a masterplan and jay— he knows just where to get the flowers from. he doesn’t need to be asked twice. pretty pink lilies wrapped in a bouquet with a ribbon. he’s already trying to come up with words to add onto a little note by the side.

pink lilies are for admiration. yeah, this is a great start.

jiyu is on a mission.

tiny hands holding a pot of lilies, brows furrowed, she looks at her father who is crouching in front of her. “give this to pretty miss,”

her shoulders are heavy with responsibility, she absolutely cannot mess this up. her tiny hands hold the small plant, and also jay’s pipeline to a love story with you but let’s not dwell into the details.

she nods firmly, way too interested in this little cupid act that she has gotten into. this has to be the most important day in her whole six years of life. her hold tightens on the pot, and she speaks with resolution. “will do!”

he sighs, fixing her ponytail. “and what do you say?”

“flowers are good and make you happy!” and dear heavens, jay has never been so proud of this little angel he has. honestly, he does feel a little silly for dragging her into his mess, but it was impossible to keep her out. she suggested the lilies and he knows she wouldn’t shut up about them until they have reached you safe and secure.

she has eyes as keen as an eagle and he is an open book.

she waves him goodbye, walking through the pink and blue entrance of the school and frowning at everyone who tries to touch the flower. her steps are laced with determination, wanting to do this right and make her father proud.

she walks to the class, flaunting the brand new hello kitty keychain on her bag pack. she was going to brag about it later. now, her eyes land on you as you arrange the books, and she approaches you with the puppy dog eyes that make the stars sigh in unison.

“pretty miss!” her cute voice makes you turn on your heel, a gasp falls off your lips as she holds the pot up and gives you her characteristic toothy smile. “for you!”

she’s shooting sparkles with her eyes that are looking at you eagerly for a reaction. it’s making you feel so many things at once, are you even supposed to take a gift from a student? you’re not sure, but you don’t have it in you to reject her surprise when she is looking at you with that grinning face.

“for me?” you look at the plantlet, and then at the excitement on her face as she hands it to you, her adorable eyes brimming with anticipation that you would like the gift. “why?”

“flowers are good!” she is beaming with cheerfulness, hands together and lips curved into the brightest smile. she is so proud of herself, almost imagining her dad patting her back and giving her all the chocolates. “papa told me to— oops!”

and the next second, her tiny hands fly over to her mouth, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. a gasp, she tries to blink the surprise away, gears turning inside her little head to come up with the best excuses. she cannot afford to mess this up. it’s about her papa and her pretty teacher— better than any princess story she has ever read.

you giggle at her innocent slip-up, the way her fingers fidgeting together in nervousness. you crouch to her level, gently placing the pot of lily on your work desk. “your father sent these?”

this is like her nightmare coming true. she can already see her father sighing disappointedly— no more spying, no more missions— her bottom lip is quivering at the mere thought of it.

“no!” and she shakes her head vigorously, try her very best to prove that it is not the case. “it’s a secret,”

you can barely enquire more before she runs off to her seat, successfully getting distracted by her friend’s cinnamoroll keychain. meanwhile, your eyes settle on the plant, the single flower that’s still about to reach its full bloom. there’s a bud next to it, small stars painted intricately on the ceramic pot. there’s a hello kitty sticker too— you know exactly who put it there.

you can hardly stop yourself from smiling, even when you’re supposed to go over the basic mathematics right now. your eyes inadvertently fall upon the beautiful white flower kept in the sunlight, the sight causing a slight flutter in your chest as warmth crept up your cheeks.

frankly, you have never thought about a parent of your students in such a way. it’s a little bashful, not to mention, unprofessional. although, something about jay makes you want to forget all those things and throw the cognition out of the window.

you see reflections of him in jiyu— the lovely smile, the way her eyes close when she laughs, her mannerisms, the slight raise in her brows when she is focused, and she is confident just like him, walking in as if she owns the room.

you don’t like working overtime but staying a little longer to look after jiyu is out of the equation. she’s cute, after all, and so is her dad, who shows up with an apologetic smile and tousled hair to pick her up. his eyes speak of exhaustion yet never running out of the love he harbours for her. his suit jacket is always on his forearm, tie a little loose and messy.

it doesn’t escape your attention the way his ears go red while talking to you and he avoids meeting your eyes. at this point, you don’t know if you’re staying late to look after jiyu or to catch a glimpse of her very attractive dad.

you continue with your duties, which certainly don’t include looking forward to meeting a certain someone but you end up counting down the minutes until the school hours end. parents teacher meetings are draining but when it’s with him, you find it oddly enjoyable. getting distracted was rather usual now, it was impossible to stop thoughts about him from flooding into your mind.

one quiet moment and your thoughts go back to him. it certainly didn’t help that jiyu mentioned him every few minutes— ‘my papa is the best—’ yeah, and you think so too.

much to your disappointment, you get caught up in a conversation with another parent to even see him, and it really pained to bid jiyu goodbye all alone and not walk her to the exit. it’s as if the universe isn’t on your side either because he arrived on time to pick up his little angel— fifteen minutes earlier in fact.

you could only watch him from a distance as he scooped her up in his arms and showered her with kisses, barely able to focus on the conversation at hand. and it melts your heart at the way jiyu waves you goodbye before resting her head on his shoulder as he carries her to his car, disappearing in the crowd of cheerful kids and yearning parents.

his hands are full of promised snacks and a surprise chocolate mousse patisserie that she loves to death. he can imagine his late wife scolding him for spoiling their daughter, but he can’t say no when she is looking at him with the very eyes he fell in love with ten years ago.

he shakes his head with a sigh, following jiyu’s tiny steps inside the house, calling out from behind. “careful!”

she’s a menace through and through, a treats monster on tiny feet that seemingly never gets tired even after school. he’s closing the door behind him and she stumbles on the way to the couch— his heart leaps out of his chest. even after six years, nothing can get him used to her energetic spirit that rules the entire house and has him dancing on her palms.

“snacks!” she claps her hands together, bouncing on the couch with happiness. it’s all she cares about, he doesn’t have to know about her little blunder in the plan. she can’t wait to have her papa-jiyu playtime where they both have snacks and share secrets.

and then she jumps down from the couch, restlessly running to him as she pulls her sparkly purple bag from his arm and shuffles through the colouring books and notebooks to pull out a pink envelope, basically shoving it into his face. “pretty miss gave this for you,”

his pulse increases at the simple mention of your name, and the fact that you send him an envelope— it feels like setting fire to his nerves. his shaky hands hold it cautiously, as if it’s worth millions. actually, to him, it does.

jay tilts his head— it’s exactly where jiyu gets that habit from— and he blinks at the sunflower sticker on top of the envelope. it makes him smile, you’re way too similar to jiyu when it comes to cute stickers and the colour pink.

he pulls out a small card from inside, and written on it is a small note which he can’t even read since the words are falling blind to his eyes. he is way too busy admiring your handwriting, the slight cursive that is just so you.

‘thank you for the lilies. they’re beautiful. ps. jiyu is bad at keeping secrets.’

and it happens again.

the jumbling of words inside his mind, heart beating relentlessly. he doesn’t know if he should consider his plan a success or failure— at least you have the lilies, he reassures himself, trying to hide his face behind the card that he knows is going to the safest locker in his cupboard.

and jiyu looks at him in confusion. “papa, you’re red again,”

OO2 TOOTH & NAIL

“papa,” she whispers in her cute voice, gesturing to him with her tiny hands to bend down to her level. “he gave her coffee,”

it’s not a known fact but jay and jiyu can pass for spies, or maybe they became one after he picked her up and saw another man approach you with what seemed like coffee.

this isn’t how things were supposed to go, but life is unpredictable. it was going to be an afternoon full of healthy vegetable sandwiches followed by ice cream and a movie of jiyu’s choice. well, that is until a certain someone reached you out with coffee right in front of him and jay felt like he was being challenged for a duel.

even she is engrossed— eyes squinted and fixed, she is judging that man with all her four feet and two inches. her face scrunches up— he’s not even that good-looking, not more than her prince of a father. no amount of spy missions to find cookies in the kitchen with her dad ( that he hid, by the way ) could measure up to this moment.

this just might be the most important mission of her entire life.

“come on, sweetheart. we should go home,” he buckles her seatbelt and turns on the ignition, and she nods like a commander in action.

she turns to her dad, eyes determined. the mission is clear— you’re a princess in danger, needing to be saved from the monster who lures people with coffee. her dear papa is the knight in shining armour, it’s exactly how the stories go. “are you going to fight?”

and jay scoffs, contradictory to the rules of disney. he huffs like this entire thing has nothing to do with him, even though his knuckles turn white with how firmly he is gripping the steering. “what? no!”

jay is indeed going to fight. tooth and nail.

he feels stupid for having these emotions— the butterflies, a crush, and the jealousy that seeps through his skin, drop by drop, every time he thinks about what happened earlier. the picture of you with he who shall not be mentioned is ingrained in his mind. eyes open, eyes closed, he sees you and him, and the thought that follows leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

‘do you like him? is he your boyfriend?’

jay prefers to ignore the latter.

you did look happy when he gave you the coffee and your lips had curved up in the same beautiful smile that melts his heart every single time, even in his wildest dreams. he has never been so restless and nervous. his mouth is going dry as the seconds pass— tick-tock, tick-tock— she inhales sharply, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

jay— the epitome of confidence and composure, is losing his cool because you interact with other men.

you and him are barely anything, and even if you were, you can talk to anyone you want. he knows that in all the right corners of his mind, even though his thoughts probably make him seem like a madman. hell, even he is surprised but he gets crazy when you’re the one driving.

his eyes go over the counter again— flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla, blueberries, baking powder, spatula, butter, milk, some more— all check. and then he gets to the matter at hand.

“do you think she likes cookies?” he asks jiyu, who is once again sitting on her high chair at the counter, making puzzles. “or muffins. everyone likes muffins,”

and she doesn’t even look up, tongue sticking out as she’s trying to figure out which piece goes where— a quiet mumble falls off her lips. “you can ask her,”

“no!” he shrieks and almost drops the spatula. “that’s a no, princess,”

the thought of you being aware of his stupid plans haunts him.

jay cannot think about asking your likes and dislikes without cringing on the inside and dying a little. you’re jiyu’s teacher, for god’s sake, even though that hasn’t stopped him from imagining you had his girlfriend and giggling under the blanket.

well, he hopes you like muffins. you have made a video about it, the one he watched religiously last night. it wasn’t in his best plans to woo you with his impeccable skills in the kitchen, but jay absolutely cannot let another man win you over while he sits with his hands tied.

he purses his lips in deep thought while absentmindedly tracing the rim of the bowl with his finger, and jiyu notices it all. she sees the way her dear father sighs every few seconds, wiping his sweaty hands on the apron.

the puzzle is gone, long forgotten. instead, she puts her elbow on the counter and rests her pretty face on tiny hands— an interrogation. “papa, are you scared?”

he scoffs.

he whips his head in her direction.

sacred? he is offended, it’s written all over his face. jay is the hero of all her midnight action stories, he is her spiderman who saves her from the monster octopus and superman who defeats carrots and capsicums.

he hasn’t been scared in years— okay, well, he did have a first hand encounter with fear every time he was late to pick jiyu up from school— but that is all. he has told her all about his great acts of bravery ( bungee jumping, swimming and riding a rollercoaster ) and it is like a dagger to his heart to hear her say that him, out of all the people, is scared.

he puts his hand over his heart that just cracked a little because his lovely daughter thought he was scared. a beautiful woman with pretty eyes and adorable smile hasn’t got anything on him.

sacred wouldn’t even be the last word he would use to describe himself.

“papa is never scared, darling,” he leans over the counter to boop her nose, lips flaunting a prideful grin.

and jiyu tilts her head adorably, the stars in her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “are you going to kiss pretty miss?”

jay feels the flutter in his chest again.

the thought of kissing you, you— his hands are shaking already. it is a dream come true for him. you look like an angel bestowed upon the earth, he would fall apart a thousand times before his lips touch yours.

and when they finally do, he would turn into angel dust blessed by your touch.

god, he is writing poetry about you in his head, seeing you in the flowers and the stars, in every beautiful thing in existence. jay is putting shakespeare to shame with his devotion, even though he can’t believe this is who he actually is.

he shakes his head, hands on waist and all, his squinted eyes shooting playful glares to his lovely daughter. “where are you learning all this from?”

“princess story! the prince and princess kiss and they live together!” and she is ever so excited, almost jumping on her seat. her grip tightens over her bunny plushie with anticipation. “if you kiss her, will she live with us?”

her words strike a certain cord in him— he is feeling a lot of things at once.

it’s yearning, perhaps, a longing for something he wants, something that he had before and lost through the cracks in his very palms that promised a happy future. jay was sure he would never fall for anyone else but here he was, already on the ground for you. he was scared for jiyu but she felt the safest with you, as if she had known you for an entire lifetime.

all his questions lead to you, all his answers are in you. his mind pushes him into pits of doubt while his heart pulls him out by the mere thought of you.

his hands are still shaking— but, he swears to hold yours ever so tenderly with his hesitant fingers. he would hold your heart like it’s glass and surrender himself to you.

that is, if you let him.

“i don’t know,” he sighs, adding extra choco chips to the batter. “that’s for her to decide, angel,”

after all, jay can only hope and pray.

“more glitter!” jiyu has the entire apartment up her shoulders, her tiny yet assertive voice ordering jay around like a poor employee under a cold-hearted boss.

he looks at the clock in worry, his little boss has no concept of time. “angel, that’s enough—”

“no, you have to make it pretty!” she exclaims with her glittery hands, grabbing yet another sparkly pen from her collection. “we need more glitter and heart and hello kitty stickers,”

the entire bed is filled with stickers, colourful pens and whatnots. he feels the headache approaching— he did not wake up an hour earlier than usual and cleaned the entire bedroom only to do it again after makes a mess of everything again.

jay isn’t quite sure if he should be worrying or not, she refuses to get ready for school without finishing their super secret ‘operation : save pretty teacher’ formulated by the one and only, park jiyu.

he only watched in defeat as she decorates the card— more glitter, more stars, more hello kitty— her tongue is poking out in concentration. jay thinks it’s genetic.

and then she shoves the paper in his face, wanting honest feedback, which means lots of compliments in her language.

“we should write a note,” jay presses his lips together, trying to come up with something. nothing too weird or forward, just nice and sweet like you.

jiyu claps her hand, chiming “say you want to marry her!” like it’s the best thing she has come up with in the six years of her life. it is, in fact, the most brilliant idea her tiny six year mind has thought of.

“stop it,” his heart is racing again— he is almost imagining you in a wedding gown already. he clears his throat as if jiyu’s words didn’t make his brain short circuit for a good few minutes. “okay. write ‘have a good day, pretty miss,”

and jay thinks he is smart.

making jiyu write his words in her adorably messy handwriting to make you believe that this was definitely not his idea and he certainly did not sit through the whole process of her making a greeting card for you. he was never the courageous one, not while confessing to his late wife, neither to you. although, he does feel a little more certain this time— it’s simply your magic.

she finishes up writing and he slides the pink card in the envelope ever so effortlessly— both of them sharing a prideful grin.

mission, half successful.

jiyu is on a mission once again.

part two of the same, truthfully. she strides forward with purposeful steps, confident that she is not going to mess this up like last time.

a spy never discloses secrets of their partner. she is going to have her mouth zipped up, locked.

she places the box of muffins and the envelope on your desk with her tippy toes, finding satisfaction in the way your face morphs from confusion into pleasant surprise.

“again?” you marvel at the fragrance of freshly baked muffins and she stands with hands on her sides, proud and victorious. “you don’t want to share them with your friends?”

“no! papa said this is only for you!” and it happens again, her brows rising up in shock. it doesn’t hit her until her small hands are over her mouth, wanting to take her words back. “that was a secret…”

you fail to bite back a giggle as her precious face flushes red, eyes moving all around except at your face. she cannot believe she screwed the missing again— she might just not get that hello kitty merch now.

you take a look at the pastel yellow box of muffin again, the cute marshmallow design bringing a smile to your lips. it’s evident that jiyu picked it herself. you know her enough to know she is just three things— hello kitty, marshmallows and strawberries— mostly.

“thank you, sweetheart,” you ruffle his hair, the pout on her lips only making you want to pull her into a hug. too bad, you have a job, otherwise you wouldn’t mind spending the whole day simply admiring her adorable face.

it’s the same process all over again— the envelope on your desk, jay’s handsome face in your mind, and the secret not-to-be-told that had slipped off jiyu’s lips ringing in your ears. your hands are itching to open the envelope, with utmost care, nonetheless. you would go over every crease and fold with a smile, maybe even kick your feet under the duvet while you’re giggling at every other word and scribble like you did last time.

jay has you falling for him just as deep as he has fallen for you, if not more.

butterflies house in your chest at the mere thought of him. it’s utterly unprofessional and disgustingly cute, and you haven’t even had a proper conversation with him where he is not jiyu’s father and you aren’t her teacher.

you don’t think you know him anymore than jiyu brags about— his maserati, the fact that they both have matching hello kitty headbands and that he is very, very good in the kitchen. you do want to know him more. perhaps, his favourite colour, or the book he likes.

maybe, how his hand would feel in yours— you drop the chalk amidst thinking about jay and spelling a word on the blackboard. you are going crazy, and you don’t think you want to get better anytime soon.

by the time school hours end, you make it your goal to walk jiyu to her dad yourself. the simple thought is making your heart race so fast, you can hear it echo in your ears.

and then you see him— gray suit, black locks slicked back. he is frantically trying to fix it as he catches your sight, and you chuckle under your breath, not missing the shy smile on his lips.

jay shines like gold in the setting sun, or perhaps it’s his own glow drawing you in. you are like a planet to the sun, always finding yourself revolving in orbits around him. you feel a similar flutter in your chest when he hugs jiyu like she’s his entire world— which she is.

and your breath gets caught up in your throat when his eyes finally meet yours. you notice the way he fumbles a few words again, you wonder if he knows you’re no better either.

“thank you for the muffins,” you manage to say, soft and sweet, it sounds like melodies to him. “how did you know blueberry is my favourite flavour?”

“just a lucky guess,” he says, trying to play it cool, knowing very well he scrolled through your channel to know your preferences. he knows you don’t like pineapple while chocolate is your second favourite. you’re trying to learn how to make mousse cakes and lobotomy wouldn’t even touch him because in his head, jay is already picturing the two of you baking it together.

“papa stayed up all night to bake! i helped too!” jiyu chimes in with a proud smile while jay is actively trying to disappear into the floor. she stayed up despite his hesitation, he did not want to risk her getting late to school. and now, it’s dreadful as well, because she can recite his crashouts from the night before word to word.

you grin at her words, ruffling her hair and almost melting at the contact when she leans into your touch. “no wonder they were delicious,”

“he also said your handwriting is pretty and it made his heart do a funny beat—”

and his hand flies over her tiny mouth that can’t keep secrets at all, while his face is red from the way you are looking at him. “don’t mind her,”

you swear, your heart just did a funny beat.

it’s the way he pulls her back and hushes her frantically that has you laughing under your breath. you shake your head at the pout on jiyu’s lips while he scolds her in the softest voice. he’s freaking out while trying not to be obvious about it and it’s the cutest family scene ever.

jay barely waits for another second before offering you a polite bow and walking towards his car.

“jay,” and you can hardly think before his name rolls off your tongue as if it has become a habit. “do you have something to say?”

you don’t know what you’re aiming for here.

maybe, you’ve been watching too many romcoms and reading too much into his little actions— it sounds stupid to you, even. the lilies, muffins, glittery cards and scribbled hearts can mean only one thing.

you still want to hear it from him to relieve all your doubts.

and before he could ever find words, jiyu already had a big grin on her face and eyes gleaming with impatience. “yes! papa likes—”

jay wants the earth to explode or something.

“would you look at the time? we should get going,” he drags his dear daughter to the car, ears red, cheeks flushed, barely having the courage to look you in the eye after the stunt jiyu pulled.

nonetheless, it told you exactly what you wanted to know.

you big goodbyes to other kids once the two of them are out of sight, and jay exhales heavily with his hands on the steering wheel as if he made it out of a death ring by an inch.

he looks over at his daughter who is sitting with her tiny arms crossed over her chest and the cutest frown dancing on her lips. jay knows he might have to buy an entire bakery to make it up to her.

it’s moments like this that remind him that she is much like her mother when it comes to mannerisms. she would have showered her in kisses as an apology but for now, jay will stick to bribing her with sweets if it means he can save image in front of you.

“never, ever, and i mean ever, say that in front of her,” he’s firm, soft, but also says it like a plea, like his whole life depends on that small mouth that holds big secrets.

“but it’s true! you like her!” she retorts, loud and proud. simply hearing it from her gives him a mini heart attack. “you tell her that and kiss and we live together— it’s easy!”

and jay had spent afternoons bickering with his wife that their daughter would take after him in some aspects. now, it’s biting him back since she inherited his stubborn attitude and refusal to give up.

he shifts the gears, hitting acceleration. “you’ll know when you grow up, little miss,”

and she huffs, brows furrowed. “i’m a big girl!”

OO3 MASTERPLAN

jiyu does believe she is a big girl. she’s six, big number, she can do additions in her mind and help her dear father write love letters because he is too much of a scaredy cat.

she has her lips zipped, not speaking a word about him to you for the next few days. no, she isn’t upset. it’s all a part of her big, masterplan. he didn’t spend the saturday night with a torch light under her space blanket for nothing.

the crumbled sheets of her drawing copy still lie in the trash can in her room, titled with ‘papa insert a poorly drawn heart pretty teacher’ and then scribbled off when she couldn’t devise a plan.

she didn’t give up, though, that word does not exist in her not so vast vocabulary yet. she stayed up all night looking at the glowy stars on her ceiling, lips pressed together, and then finally fisting her tiny hands with determination.

jiyu is tired of her dad fumbling every chance so she takes matters in her own tiny, glittery hands.

it’s just another busy afternoon at work for him and he’s picking jiyu up late again, warm coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled. he still remembers the first time he had arrived late and she was sitting alone, small legs dangling off the bench.

it was before you had joined and even though he knows you would sit next to jiyu the whole time while she’s waiting for him, it still doesn’t do much to ease his worries. if there’s one thing he hates, it’s to keep his little girl waiting.

you’re kneeling beside her cubby helping her zip up her hoodie, when he hurries inside with heavy breaths and a relieved smile at the sight of you next to jiyu.

“sorry,” he almost forgetting to breath when you smile at him, finding it hard to think straight when your eyes are on him. “i hit every red light,”

“all good,” you stand up, laughing when jiyu runs up to him and wraps her arms around his legs. “we were just having a fashion crisis,”

“papa,” jiyu says suddenly— her voice high, sweet, dangerously casual. there’s a certain glint in her eyes and god, it sets his heart off on a nervous journey. “did you know that pretty miss’ new video got so many views!”

he was almost expecting her to say something risky again— she can’t keep secrets for the life in her. although, her words bring a wave of relief to him. at least she isn’t planning to pull any stunts— for now. jay tugs her backpack over one shoulder and tilts his head. “did it?”

and he does it so innocently as if he wasn’t one of the earliest viewers in your new video, clicking the notification as soon as you posted it. he had already imagined your pretty face morphed in happiness when he saw your new video reach above a million views by the morning— yes, he opened youtube as soon as he got up.

“yes!” she exclaims, a little too excited, her ponytail swaying as she turns to you with a big grin. “papa is a big fan,”

you blink. “what?”

jay freezes, palms sweating as realisation dawns upon him. jiyu looks way too happy with no sign of wanting to stop on her face. her sharp tongue knows no bounds and he is already shaking his head in your direction to save whatever little image he has in front of you.

“i am not—” he starts, voice cracking slightly.

“yes you are!” jiyu intervenes brightly, pointing fingers and shooting daggers with her sweet giggles. “you watched the muffin video many times while making dinner, and you said you liked her voice and then you got all quiet and weird,”

the muffin video, god, jay wishes he could go back to that night and put his detective of a daughter to sleep. he thinks he’s hopeless, truthfully. he had no reason to watch your tutorial on baking muffins— he knows how to bake. he knew the ingredients even before you had gone over their names and proportions, and he remembers exactly how he had gone from sitting on the couch with his legs crossed to curling up in the corner with a cushion in his arms.

his little grin stayed hidden behind the cushion, one that grew wider every time you had smiled. you haven’t even done a face reveal on your channel but he can hear your pretty smiles flowing in your honeyed voice. you have him hooked, he scrolls through your videos even at work. jay can bet his secretary thinks he needs professional help because he keeps smiling while looking at the plain, white walls.

you stare at jay, wide eyed and at a loss of words.

and he stares at the floor like it personally betrayed him. it’s so over for him. his hand flies to his face, a heavy sigh falling of his lips, and he looks at you with pretty eyes brimming with panic. “i— okay, that’s not what happened,”

“you smiled in it,” jiyu continues, still cheerful, not wanting to stop anytime soon. she has one job— expose her lovely father because he is too much of a coward. “and he was smiling at the phone. papa is so silly!”

he can’t even look at you right now, just wanting the ground to swallow him whole or something. the sun can explode and he wouldn’t even mind. silly is not even on the list of words he would want you to describe himself as but maybe, that’s who he is— silly, some sort of loser who is hopelessly in love and impossibly shy to admit it to his crush.

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “very silly,” your words are like a gentle jab to his heart, still not wanting to believe silly is what he is to you. “but kind of sweet,”

okay— now, he is not sure if he wants to disappear or melt at your feet. you called him sweet, it sounds like wedding bells to him. he looks over at you, you don’t look that upset at this revelation. you don’t look upset at all, not even a sliver of disgust on your face. maybe, this isn’t the end of the world. perhaps, he has a chance, or perhaps, you’re going to sit and make fun of him with your friends later over some drinks and chips.

his eyes widen, jay lets out a noise like a dying animal at the mere thought of that.

he looks over at his daughter, who is finding amusement in his misery and laughing under her tiny palms over her mouth. it’s like a game to her, one that she is winning by sacrificing her father.

“i’m gonna ban all screen time in our house,” he mutters, grabbing her arm to pull her out and away from here and just take her home. today’s father-daughter evening was going to be about an elaborate discussion on how to not embarrass your father in front of his crush. so much for big girl talks.

but jiyu pulls out of his grip immediately, helplessly adding “he gets shy when i talk about you,” with a giggle in her chirpy voice, loud and excited. “he says you have the prettiest laugh,” and at this point, he isn’t even doing it deliberately.

words flow out of her mouth like the poems she had learnt to recite to her grandparents. her eyes shine the brightest at this moment, followed by the smile that has you hooked to everything she says. jiyu had waited for this moment since forever, wanting to talk about him and you— the greatest love story in the making.

he exhales with a flare— or a plea. “jiyu,”

she shoots him glares as if it makes her pretty, doe eyes any less adorable. and you’re covering your mouth now, shoulders shaking, not sure whether to laugh or awe at his red face. your hands are aching to hold his flustered face in your palms and tell him so softly how much you want to kiss him.

jay gives you a look— half-mortified, half-defeated. his hair is tousled from the amount of times he has ran his fingers through them. “she’s lying. she’s six. no one believes six-year-olds,”

and jiyu gasps, tilting her head at him with an exaggerated pout. “you also said you like miss—”

“okay,” jay cuts in, clapping his hands and pulling her back by her bagpack. he was not going to let her drop the bomb like that. “time to go. say goodbye. we’re getting late,”

you’re barely keeping it together at their back and forth. he is basically pulling her towards the door and she keeps resisting, fighting with her pouty lips and squinty eyes.

you almost want to stop her and confront him yourself, wanting to see him squirm and stutter under your gaze until he has turned into a puddle. it’s cruel, you feel like the villains in his fake princess stories that jiyu tells you about. the idea is tempting, but you end up waving at jiyu. “bye, lovebug.”

“bye, pretty miss!” she sings sweetly, hello kitty keychain dangling off her bagpack. “tell papa you like him back!”

jay groans, practically scooping her up and backs out of the room. he can never face you after this. he’s already thinking about other good schools he can transfer jiyu to.

honestly, if it wasn’t for jiyu, you would think jay and you would still be exchanging muffins like highschoolers. unlike him, this is probably the best day you’ve had at work, and you call out to them to make it even better. “tell him his face is red again!”

and jay groans audibly down the hallway, not wanting to believe he’s still breathing through all this— and unfortunately so.

OO4 TO BELONG

jay thinks he is the unluckiest person alive.

absolutely doomed by the heavens, not even the higher deities are on his side. resigning from his job and moving to the countryside would be better. at least, he wouldn’t have to face you after the majestic event his daughter pulled the last time he saw you.

frankly, he has been avoiding you the whole week. he arrives at the school pickup on time, waiting until his little girl comes running and then he drives away with her before you can even approach him. it doesn’t make him feel any less shitty than he did for not attending the parents teacher meeting. he bailed out with some work excuse— he’s sure you’re perceptive enough to catch his lies.

jay wasn’t going to avoid you forever. he’s simply waiting for the right time. and timing be damned, because he had to have an important meeting on a weekday and his fingers were shaking over your contact. cherry on top— jiyu’s nanny had to get sick today and the neighbours had to go on a family dinner when he needed them the most. he is so sure this is an elaborate scheme to ruin his life.

this was a bad idea. yeah, why would you want to do anything with him after what happened last time? you probably think of him as some crazy, obsessed freak. it’s probably your courtesy that he doesn't have a restraining order on him yet. he’s highly expecting it anytime soon.

‘this is a bad idea,’ he thinks, but then freaks out when he clicks on the call button. worse— it connects immediately and his mind haywires, forgetting the entire concept of words and vocabulary.

“jay?” he gulps at the sound of your voice, looking at the potted plant in his office as if that succulent was going to start speaking. “jay, are you there?”

“uh— ” he wants to rip his hair out because of the weird sound he just let out. he shifts in his leather seat, fingers clutching around the phone like a lifeline. “hi,”

great.

he’s pretty sure his voice is nothing less than that of an animal shrieking in pain. he cannot believe it’s this same mind that signs off million dollar deals and can’t even hold a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

okay, jay, breathe. this is not the end of the world. you’re just another woman— he wants to marry you, but that’s another story. besides, there’s always an option to move to the countryside and have a corn farm.

“i hate to ask this but i’m stuck in a meeting,” a pause, he’s testing the waters. a reply, anything, from you that tells him that you’re still with him. and when you don’t speak, he simply continues with dread setting deeper in his chest. “it’s going to take the whole evening. would you—?”

“of course,” you say immediately and he thinks you’re god. “i’ll take her to my place. you can rest assured,”

he practically melts in his work chair, letting out a breath that he has been holding for the past twenty minutes. you’re his saviour, like the light at the end of the tunnel. and for some reason, he feels more assured than he did when he left jiyu with anyone else before you.

he thinks he might have fallen for you once again.

he sighs in relief. “thank you— and i’m sorry for putting this on you on such a short notice,”

“it’s fine, i don’t mind spending time with her,” and you sound like you are in a hurry. you’re at the school, after all. you probably have some toddlers at each other’s hair judging from the cry he heard in the background. “i have to go— i’ll text you my address so you can pick her up later,”

“yeah—” he can barely finish his words before you hang up, and he only stares at the black screen in admiration with a dreamy smile, mumbling to himself. “thanks,”

if jay had to choose a superpower, it would be time control.

yeah, they’ve gone over this before— him and jiyu— she had picked invisibility so she could steal all the cookies. as childish as it sounds, he really wishes superpowers were real. if you hadn’t already started disliking him for his poor tricks to hit on you, he is so sure you would hate him for his absolute disaster of time management.

a blazing horn, tires screech, he whips the steering to the right— a near miss. his heart échos in his ears while his leg is still resting over the brake. the last thing he needs today is to see his death. it has to be the worst day he has ever had.

even finally pulling up in front of your apartment complex doesn’t make things better. he almost forgets to lock his car. seventh floor, unit 723— he remembers that like the back of his hand. jay barely has any time to lose before he barely waits for five seconds in front of the lift before deciding to take the stairs.

jay is convinced this is bigger than any gym workout he has ever done. hell, the two-hundred meters race on father’s day at jiyu’s school feels like a joke. he can barely feel exhaustion setting it, the urgency to see his dear princess lies second to none, even if his legs are starting to feel like jelly.

he feels like he has aged three years while running up seven floors, and simultaneously has gained ten years of lifespan when he sees your unit in sight. he rings the bell, knocks, one hand up the walls to catch his breath.

and when you finally open the door, it’s like a flood gate of words turned open. “i’m sorry. the meeting went on longer than expected and then the traffic—”

“jay, breathe,” you interrupt, half amused and half concerned. you’re trying not to feel guilty of finding him hot even now— he can barely breathe, for gods sake, but your eyes refuse to look anywhere except the glimpse of clavicle near the collar of his shirt. “you look like you ran all the way up,”

“yeah, i took the stairs—” the way he says it with huffs of breaths makes you feel bad, but you end up letting out an amused chuckle in the end. “elevators were taking too long,”

you want to hug his worries away, even though that sounds like a far dream. his hair sticks to his forehead due to sweat and you almost imagine yourself sitting next to him and tending to him with gentleness.

you watch the way his eyes scan your apartment restlessly even before he has walked past the doorway, trying to get a glimpse, a sight— you know exactly what will put his heart to ease.

“jiyu is fine. she just fell asleep,” your heart flutters as you watch your words ease his mind, and your lips break into a warm smile as you continue. “took her three bedtime stories even after playing all evening,”

you step aside and let him walk inside, and jay lets out a loud gasp at the sight of the living room— messy, opened paint bottles and brushes around with loose sheets. it looks like a disaster, he considers getting on his knees to apologise.

his eyes inadvertently move to your face and now that he looks at you again, better, you look happy, covered in glitter and cute stickers— he knows jiyu put that strawberry sticker on your cheek— and jay is swooning.

“well, we were painting,” he can hear the smile in your voice and his heart does a sommersault. his chest aches to see you playing with jiyu. “i’ll clean at up later,”

“i’ll help,” he immediately turns to you and there it is, the sparkle in his eyes, the one that you have gotten used to seeing whenever he comes to pick jiyu up after school. the sparkle that you have always wanted to see for a little longer but couldn’t because he cannot meet your eyes for longer than a minute.

and now that he is finally looking at you with an emotion somewhere between apology and gratefulness, you can’t help but admire the way he looks— his sharp features that look soft as a flower when he’s looking at you.

the silence between you both stretches and your chest tightens, and words leave your mouth like you’re caught under his spell. “okay,”

jay is already taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the armrest of your couch before undoing the cuffs of his sleeves. you basically freeze midway in the process of gathering the loose sheets painted with whatever, taking in every inch of the skin on his arm that meets your gaze as he rolls the sleeves up.

you’ve lost it, completely.

he picks up jiyu’s backpack that was lying around on the floor and swings it over his shoulder like it’s muscle memory. he arranges her shoes with his foot, immediately going for the water bottle that was lying next to the couch.

you have only managed to pick up the sheets and colours and he is already looking like some avenger with a backpack, water bottle in one hand and a bowl of water for painting in another with brushes dipped in it. he’s also somehow balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder through it all and answering to whoever it was on the other end of the call.

it feels like magic because you’re apartment already looks cleaner than it was just two minutes ago. “that was…surprisingly quick,”

he registers your words as soon as he puts his phone down on the counter, and there is it again— the shy smile that tugs at your heart strings just right. his hand flies to his nape and he manages to speak even through the loss of words. “yeah, well— i’ve been doing this for six years now,”

god, you’re addicted to that smile.

“right,” you smile, not sure if it’s at his words or how pretty he looks under those kitchen lights. you might as well be jealous of jiyu for being able to see this godly sight every day, might.

you’re still in a trance while watching him wash the excess paint off the dried brushes. you grab a cleaning towel to wipe the paint splatters off the tiles and your eyes are still glued to him— his arm, biceps, flexing through the soft material of his dress shirt.

you do see him walk over to you but you don’t move, your brain is still out of network service. you see his lips moving— his words are deaf to your ears anyway. your fingers are itching to trace over every single part of his face but you fist them around the cloth in your hand to not look crazy.

you blink once, twice— the sound of his voice calling your name gets a tad bit clearer— and then thrice before you’re finally pulled out of dreamland. “oh— yeah, sure! thanks,”

you don’t even know what you’re saying sure and thanks to. you’ve already lost your mind and you think you start losing it again when he steps closer. your heart speeds up like it’s on rocket fuel as he leans in even closer. you don’t even know what you agreed to— it can be anything between killing you and kissing you—

and you’re almost closing your eyes as if anticipating something. almost, because you feel his fingers graze tenderly over your cheek. it’s ever so gentle, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

you almost lean into his touch before he pulls away with a small smile. “there,” and he crumbles the fuckass strawberry sticker between his fingers before it finally hits you. “all clean,”

he laughs.

jay is laughing while you want to scream, probably punch into the nearest wall. you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself but hey, so has he, many times at that, so you both are equal.

“thanks,” you manage to speak through the awkwardness. and then words vanish off your tongue again. he’s looking at you like you’ve saved his life— honestly, you might have, by looking after jiyu all evening. she is his life, his heart beat.

it’s quiet again.

and it feels like one hell of an awkward episode as you both just stand and look at each other. it’s way too quiet, save for the distant horns on the road. jay practically jumps when your table clock goes off with a robotic sound— why did you even set an alarm for ten at night?

you look like an angel wrapped in a warm sweater and trousers. white suits you and so does the glitter on your cheeks. you look like the perfect mess, and you look like you belong here— with jiyu, with him. this is bad, he needs to say something, anything.

his weight shifts from one leg to the other, an attempt at clearing his throat and well, the awkwardness. “i’m sorry for putting you up for babysitting duties all of a sudden,”

you shake your head modestly and he knows what’s coming. “it’s okay, i had fun,”

he laughs at your words, like the first gentle, relieved laugh of the day, like he can breathe after a whole day of work and worries. “she didn’t give you trouble, did she?”

you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. “we get along better than you think, jay,”

and it’s the way you say his name that sends his mind into a frenzy. the way you are smiling at him, the way your eyes are sparkling with a playful glint— everything that is making him forget to breathe.

jay had actually forgotten he was here to pick his daughter up and not stand and admire you like a fool, and when he finally remembers, his feet follow behind your steps on their own while you lead him to your bedroom.

and there she is— his perfect, little girl tucked under a duvet. you’ve arranged pillows around her to prevent her from rolling over and it affects him more than it should. he almost crashes against the door, lips erupting into a fond smile at the sight of her sleeping so sound and safe.

“she’s adorable,” you can’t help but murmur. you’ll probably never tell him, but you sat by the bed for a good few minutes to admire her when she had fallen asleep.

“yeah,”

he takes quiet steps towards the bed and scoops her up in his arms like it’s a habit— and it is. jay would swear his arms would feel empty without her. she squirms drowsily and he pats her back, lulling her back to sleep with practiced ease.

you can see the fatigue behind his eyes and the exhaustion setting in his actions. he presses the softest kiss on jiyu’s forehead and the action melts your heart. you’ve always found their interactions cute, but seeing him like this— a tired mess and relishing in little form snuggled up against his chest— is the most special.

he walks towards the main entrance and words end up slipping off your tongue before you know it. “you’re not staying for dinner?”

you’re just as surprised as him, honestly.

he’s still looking at you with the same soft look on his face. you’re starting to think that dinner with him isn’t exactly a bad idea, not at all.

“no, you look like you could use some nice sleep,” he sighs, and you open your mouth to protest even though you’re disappinted, but he beats you to it. “you’ve already done more than enough,”

maybe, you actually need some sleep.

taking care of a kid is hard, you’ve realised it several times today. if it wasn’t for her non-stop narration on why you should watch kpop demon hunters, you would have fallen asleep on the couch before her. although, you would look after jiyu again without question. he simply has to say the word.

it also has to do with the fact that you still haven’t stopped ogling at his arms, not like you’re ever going to say that out loud.

your eyes meet again when he stands at the doorway, none of you knowing what to say. he’s still caressing her back, making sure she doesn’t wake up. it’s oddly captivating, you want to know how his hands would feel wrapped around you.

your gaze traces over his face, then lips, then back up to meet his eyes so you don’t look like some creep to him. this was a perfect way to end a day and you would hate to ruin it with your inability to take your eyes off him.

he takes a deep breath, not really wanting to leave but he knows that’s not possible. at least, not yet. “see you,”

you nod with a quiet “good night,” and then you close the door, crashing against it with the sweetest smile.

oh, you’re so done for.

OO5 MATCHMAKER

you haven’t seen jay in over five days and it’s the worst thing ever. the first two days, jiyu called in sick, and the next three, you had to visit your parents for your father’s birthday. you’d be lying if you say you did not think about him all the time— day, noon and night.

despite you telling everyone that nothing was wrong, you constantly checked your phone for texts from him, the last ones being about jiyu being sick from two days ago. and well, you did reply, two days ago, of course, hoping that she gets well soon, and then succumbed to hesitation as you went back and forth between to message or to not message.

and now that you’re back to work, jiyu is once again looking at you with determined eyes and a mischievous smile, tiptoeing over your desk. “papa made pancakes for you,”

once again, in front of you, lies a cute box, pastel green this time, with a cherry sticker. you’re going to lose your mind out of cuteness overload one of these days. she slides a small card towards you and your heart skips several beats. all this feels like some high school love story with jiyu playing the perfect cupid.

“were you supposed to tell me that?” you chuckle, based on her history spilling secrets that he trusts her to hide.

you flip open the card and this time, it’s written in his own handwriting— neat yet a bit hurried, every stroke and curve making the smile on your face grow bigger. your name looks prettier when it’s written by him, like something that belong right next to his name.

“yes!” jiyu’s chimes in, almost jumping in excitement. “he also said you should come for dinner,”

“dinner?”

“he cooks really well! and he wants to say thank you,” and of course, she is not letting up any opportunity to praise her father. if jay had a sponsor, it would be her and it’s no surprise. if jay has a million fans, she is one of them. if jay has one fan, it’s her and, if jay has no fans, she is dead.

she went off in front of her grandparents on her third birthday and his friends about how amazing he is at making soup. she couldn’t even remember her nursery rhymes well but she would never shy away from standing in the middle of the living room and give a proper speech on the chef of a dad that she has.

and she is confident in her words, even if they are stuttery and pronounced wrong, sounding like the usual baby rambles. jay can do anything and he would always have a tiny, adorable voice cheering on him.

you slide the note inside your purse, knowing it’s going to stay in your drawer like some precious treasure. you basically spend the rest of the working hours shaking with excitement to see him. you taught subtractions, gripping the chalk a little too tightly in anticipation.

you feel like a victorian lady who can’t wait to see her husband as he returns from the war. the thought itself makes your mind go fuzzy, you’re afraid you mind end up saying something wrong and scaring him away ( even though it’s not possible because jay will want you even if you are a little crazy. )

when the head assigns you to review some student profiles after work, you almost wanted to snap her head off with your bare hands. you hate staying beyond the working hours, more when you know it can very well ruin your only chance of seeing jay today after a whole week of torture.

but, it’s like even the stars are rooting for both of you because you receive a text from him and he is late again— much to his disappointment— and you have never loved the traffic so much before.

you stay with jiyu after school, she is talking about planets. her favourite is saturn because she read that it rains diamonds up there, and you try your best to not look impatient while waiting for the horn of his car that has now become familiar to your ears.

“do you like papa?” jiyu looks up at you with her big, curious eyes, legs dangling off the swing you both are sitting on. she blinks at you a few times, waiting for a response while holding the lollipop in one hand. “he’s nice,”

she’s making round patterns on the sand with her shoes and just as you were about to reply, he arrives, finally, you straighten yourself as you watch him hurry out of the car and close the door a little too loudly behind him.

jay practically runs inside, anxious eyes looking for jiyu until they finally meet her tiny form running towards him. she’s lifted off the ground even before she could respond, her giggles erupting in the air as he drowns her face in fleeting kisses.

then his gaze meets yours, and both your heartbeats start going off like a time bomb— straight out of a movie. you look happier to see him than usual and he is already working up his mind to come up with something.

“about dinner— will saturday be okay?” you cringe internally. that came off as way more excited than you intended. obviously, you don’t want to come off too strong even if you are literally shaking like a manic at the thought of having dinner with him.

“dinner?” he looks down at the tug at his sleeve. it’s jiyu, she’s looking up at him with a grin, and she winks. oh. “saturday is…perfect,”

he doesn’t understand whether to pat jiyu’s back and give her the trophy for being better at this than cupid, if he exists, or if he should lecture on why she can’t invite you over for dinner one fine saturday, under his name, because it’s inappropriate.

although, all his worries are thrown out of the window when he sees the enchanting smile tugging at your lips— dinner be it, hell yeah. he might just invite you over for a five course meal everyday if you are going to look at him like that.

“i’ll see you then,” you nod, and jay was going to make sure the upcoming saturday is the best one you’ve had in your entire life.

you had said saturday to buy yourself four days worth of preparation for the dinner as if it was your marriage dinner. well— it’s just as important, and you don’t know how the said saturday arrived so quickly because you’re standing in front of your closet, looking for the perfect dress.

you have to be going insane. even the new one you bought recently suddenly looks like the ugliest fit you’ve ever had.

you wonder if you should cancel, postpone, and then almost slap yourself back to senses.

no cancellations. you've been waiting for this dinner religiously.

after digging through your closet like you’re going to find gold, you finally end up with something. well, at least it’s new and compliments your skin tone. at least, it looks perfect with your favourite pendant and that is all the confidence you need to go through this dinner.

an hour later, you’re standing nervously in front of his door, fixing any creases on your dress with urgency and nervousness. there’s a box of pineapple shortcakes in one hand for jiyu and a bottle of pinot noir in another. google said it’s a perfect choice for romantic dinners— something about its light body and earthy tones— not like you are expecting anything to happen, by the way.

you press the doorbell, anxiously shifting from leg to the other, biting your inner cheeks. and as if on cue, jay opens the door with a warm smile that makes your face heat up.

“hi,” is all you’re able to say because well, the way he is looking at you is making your mouth run dry. the navy blue cardigan hugs his frame loosely and his hair is no longer styled back. the strands float above his eyes like a veil and you find yourself aching to brush them away to get a clearer look at those dreamy eyes and drown in them.

you’ve only ever seen him in poised suits and rolled up dress shirts with loosened ties, it has made you forget that he definitely doesn’t only wear formals. and frankly, he looks much better in casuals, so much that you’ve come to two conclusions :

first, jay looks way too good in cardigans for your heart health. you might as well get a heart attack at the sight.

and second, you need this date to get somewhere. hopefully, the pinot noir will do its job.

“hi,” he steps aside, gesturing to you to come in. “you should come inside— i’m almost done,”

and it feels surreal to be in his apartment, his place.

it’s nothing like yours and everything like a home that belongs to a family. there are photo frames of him and jiyu in every corner, even on the kitchen island next to the flower vase. her crayon drawings cover the entire fridge door and of course, there is hello kitty on mugs, posters.

the best of all, the entire place smells like a mouth watering cuisine as you see him return to the kitchen. you try your best to not ogle at the food like you haven’t eaten in a hundred years. “anything i can help with?”

“no need, i’m almost done,”

you stand across him, putting the cake and wine on the counter, watching his perfect hands flip the steak over with practiced precision. the sizzle only adds to your appetite. “i don’t mind helping, really,”

“well, you can just sit there and look pretty for me,” he doesn’t even know where these words are coming from.

both of you are equally flustered, barely meeting gazes before they flutter away. you sit on the stool at the counter, right across him, getting the best view of his handsome face glowing like a gem underneath the warm kitchen lights.

“okay,” you let the silence engulf both of you in the comfort of its embrace. it’s not awkward anymore, the faint smiles on both of your lips speaking for the lack of words. “where’s jiyu?”

he looks up from the grill, meeting your beautiful eyes. “with the neighbour’s kid. they suddenly wanted to have a sleepover,”

he says those words with an unamused sigh, still smiling, turning up the flame.

sneaky little thing.

not only she set both of you up for this thank you dinner but she also ran off to her friend’s. sleepover was an excuse, he knew that the second she approached him with puppy dog eyes and a pleading pout to manipulate him. she knows he can never say no to her when she looks at him like that.

well, he is thankful, even after she embarrassed him in front of you. he is glad that his little, matchmaker of a daughter pulled some tricks or else, he would still be sending you tiffins full of baked goodies and cute notes written by her.

you watch him set the plates and fetch the wine glasses. it feels like the perfect date night, better than any five star restaurant can offer, and the cute bowls and mugs on the shelves behind him only make everything better.

“so, what else do you do, aside from being a full-time dad— and watching my videos, obviously?” you ask with a teasing smile, feeling more confident than you were a week ago.

and jay groans visibly, ears flushing red almost immediately. of course, you are bringing that up, he wants to disappear into thin air. “please forget that. jiyu has no filter,”

you fold your hands over the counter with a huff. “and i’m glad she doesn’t. i don’t think you would have told me you’re a fan otherwise,”

and boy, jay was a whole air conditioner in fact.

he would spend his evenings watching your baking videos and his nights were filled with shy grins under the duvet, thinking about the way you had smiled at him at the school pickup.

he would never say it to anyone— it’s so embarrassing, he hides his face in the mattress whenever he thinks of it at night, but he has spent days admiring you from afar, watching you interact with kids and their parents. he would sit in his car and try to calm his heart down, hoping he manages to say something more than a hello and a thank you.

he even feels a tinge of jealousy at the sight of you laughing with the kids and kissing their cheek, as insane as it sounds.

will you ever kiss me?

his knees go wobbly at the thought and he almost smiles to himself, forgetting you’re sitting right in front of him. he ( and his daughter ) has already done enough damage to his cool and sauve image in front you, he definitely doesn’t want you to run away because you think of him as some mad man giggling to himself.

he can feel your gaze follow every single motion of his hand, the way he scatters pepper over the butter and thyme in the pan before stirring in the shallots. it’s like a game, he feels a sense of victory knowing he has you hooked— and it’s true. you have watched countless people cooking the most delicious meals in their own magnificent ways, but nothing was ever as hypnotic as him, nothing even comes close.

he carefully flambé’s the shallots in brandy and flame until it dies down, unlike the one in your chest that only ignites further when he gives you a charming smirk from across the stove. your face heats up and you don’t know if it’s because of him or the warmth of the kitchen, you don’t bother answering that question to yourself.

with a few more steps that felt like watching a magician in his show, you had the perfect steak diane served drizzled with sauce in front of you. “hope you enjoy,”

you were going to enjoy it.

the plate looks like it’s straight out of a cooking magazine, the wine that he pours on the side only elevating the taste of the whole meal. you wait for him to join you and he sits in front of you with expectant eyes waiting for your review. you’ve seen this movie before, the same pupils gleaming with anticipation and excitement. you almost feel compelled to give jiyu extra stars when she looks at you the same way as he is right now, and you think it’s only valid to give him stars too.

you slice the steak with your knife and take a bite, immediately melting onto the table itself. “this is so—” gosh, you hear him chuckle when you try to speak through a mouthful of food. you decide that it doesn’t even matter anymore. “—amazing,”

he smiles at your words and digs in— honestly, you’re too busy savouring the taste of steak and shallots to even pay attention to what he is doing. you came for the man, stayed for the food, it’s hard to believe he has all these skills hidden up his messily rolled sleeves on workdays.

the dinner is quiet, for the most part, save for the occasional clinking of cutlery and soft thank yous that he mutters to you for accepting his— or more accurately, jiyu’s— invitation. your legs accidentally touch under the table and he immediately averts his gaze, cheeks shot red. he apologises, soft and shy, gulping down the sip of wine and his nervousness.

it’s cute, you hold yourself back from reaching out and placing your hand on his. if it wasn’t for hesitation coursing through your veins, you might have done it already, and perhaps he would have too.

maybe it’s the wine but you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him— not like you had it any better before. the way he fills up your wine glass with politeness adoring his every move has you in a trance. you’ve noticed all those business awards and the ‘best dad’ certificate on the wall that was made by jiyu herself. he checks all the boxes— the perfect employee to the perfect dad, and a perfect man.

your words stand confirmed all over again when you step aside to use the restroom after dinner and by the time you get back, he is already putting the dishes in the sink after cleaning up the kitchen, and he is effortlessly quick with it too.

you do lose your mind over those broad shoulders and tiny waist, it’s making you feel all tingly in the chest and stomach. and after spending several minutes admiring him from behind, you find the courage to stand right next to him. “let me help,”

and it’s like you’ve said something controversial because jay is looking at you wide eyed and raised brows with disbelief written all over his face. “please, you don’t have—”

“i insist,”

the silence overtakes again.

your gazes meet and he shifts awkwardly, accidentally brushing his arm against yours, and suddenly his spacious modular kitchen feels too small for even two people. his ears turn red but he doesn’t look away and neither do you.

his eyes scan your face, then travel down to your lips before coming back at your face, and none of you look away. maybe, the pinot noir is doing it’s job. maybe, things are getting somewhere—

and then he shifts away, clearing his throat. “okay,”

honestly, jay is freaking out.

he doesn’t know how he is still standing next to you and breathing normal and not screaming while crashing out on the floor. you give him a cute smile every time he looks down at you and god, it is making him want to hold your face in his shaky hands and cry his eyes out.

it all feels so domestic, like you belong here, right next to him. nobody would have expected you both to be washing dishes on your first ( unofficial, self-proclaimed ) date. if he was any braver, he would have you right next to you on the couch with a movie playing on the tv screen. but, since he is far from anything mentioned above, he relishes in doing dishes with you.

and it’s heavenly, because the second your hand brushes against his under water in the sink, it’s like electricity running through his body and short circuiting his brain. he doesn’t know what to do— should he apologise? should he hold your hand? should he ignore and wait for it to happen again?

you aren’t even looking at him and continue to wash the same plate for the last ten minutes— not like he minds— and he wants to explode. that seems like the most plausible option at the moment.

the air is turning awkward again and he constantly taps his foot over the tile, finding words to break the silence. he watches you put the plate away before picking up the bowl, and he can’t help the next words that leave his mouth. “you’re good at this,”

great.

just amazing.

jay dies a little on the inside when you laugh at his words, the sound almost mocking his question. “at washing dishes?”

he wants to jump out of the window. billions of words in the english language and his mind came up with the worst four possible right now. he needs to save himself somehow. “yeah, you’re uh— skilled,”

stop.

just shut up.

you’re laughing at him, and of course you would be. you probably think he is the stupidest person to exist, even the kids at the kindergarten might be smarter than him. he doesn’t even trust himself to say something better anymore. when you’re this close to him, all his senses are destroyed.

you reach out to push a loose strand of hair back with your forearm, and he reaches out to wipe his hand almost instinctively before tucking your hair behind your ear. his hand stays there for a while like it’s a scene straight out of a romance show, his eyes refusing to leave your surprised ones.

his focus averts to your lips again, the way you nip at it nervously only makes it harder for him to think straight. he considers leaning in— it’s barely a few inches. but he steps back, and his touch lingers over your skin even after he pulls away.

he’s still thinking about it while scooping ice cream for two. you look so pretty leaning against the kitchen island and taking in every detail with utmost care, it makes him freeze by the refrigerator with two bowls of ice cream in his hands.

“here,” you smile when he hands you one, and jay stares at you with keen eyes as you take a spoonful in your mouth. it’s strawberry, too sweet for his liking, but jiyu mentioned once that you like strawberries and he hopes it’s your preference in ice creams too.

“what?” he doesn’t realise he’s staring until you call him out, and he smacks himself internally for getting lost in you again, not like he can help it.

“nothing just…” words trail off while he rubs his nape for a decent answer, looking at the shelves as if begging for help. “i, uh, hope you like that flavour,”

that was good.

“it’s good,” you say with a smile so sweet, it makes the ice cream taste bland. “but i prefer cookies and cream,”

and for some reason, that brings a smile to his face too. cookies and cream— so much like you, yet nothing that he could have guessed. well, it’s just the first dinner together and you’re like a box of surprises that he wishes to unwrap slowly and carefully, only seeing what you’re willing to show.

“i’ll remember that for the next time,” and it’s more of a promise than a statement. there is s a wishful certainty for a next time for something in the way you’re looking at him tells him that you want it to happen too.

you’re enjoying the ice cream in silence and he’s enjoying the sight of you, but again, what’s new? you look up at him again, glowing ever so perfectly under the yellow lights hanging from the ceiling. every single feature on your face shines like gold, and jay doesn’t know where all this bravery is coming from but he finds himself inching towards you.

he takes it slow, hesitant in his own actions. it’s like he’s waiting for your reaction, anything more than just your eyes landing on his lips before moving away. he wouldn’t mind if you choose to leave, despite the heartbreak, but when you turn to face him with the same look, he knows he has you for now.

it’s like the air shifts around you and suddenly, the lack of space doesn’t feel so bad. “can i?”

“i thought you’d never ask,” you nod— it’s all jay needs to know.

the next second, his lips are on yours, barely moving. he’s still unsure, wondering if you are too, if you want to pull away. but when you don’t— when you give in and press your lips against his, leaning into him— he feels like he can breathe again.

he puts his bowl away and takes yours to do the same, hands immediately going around your waist to pull you flush against him. you’re backed against the counter and he is somewhere between losing himself in the thrill and keeping himself grounded.

the kiss deepens, he lets you lead and his lips follow yours, slow yet insistent. you pull at his cardigan and he cups your cheeks ever so tenderly, wanting to get lost in you and never find a way out. it’s dizzying, the way your hands rest on the back of his neck, the way he can almost feel your heartbeat against his chest and the way it is almost in sync with his.

he smells like oud and something you can’t name but it’s clouding your senses and everything feels so right. his hand trails down the curve of your waist like he’s worshipping you and your breath hitches when he draws you even closer, if it was even possible.

jay pulls away a little, his forehead against yours. he takes in your sight— lips red while you’re breathing in short huffs. it feels like he’s falling for you all over again. “i’ve been waiting to do that for so long,”

“me too,” and your words are like a wave of relief pulling him in as he captures your lips in another kiss. it’s more playful this time, he can feel you smiling while your hands ghost up his neck and travel down to intertwine with his.

he still cannot believe this is real, and even if it’s not he doesn’t want it to stop. although, it does when you give him a few more pecks before pulling back with a grin, as if proud of the needy pout on his lips.

“stay for the night?” he murmurs, still cupping your cheeks. he tries to hold back, but ends up pecking your lips anyway. “it’s raining outside anyway. i’m not letting you drive in this weather,”

and you nod, pressing yet another peck against his lips as you bring his arm to circle around your waist. “only if you make pancakes for breakfast,”

ㅤ◞ ⩊ ◟ㅤ — hi to everyone who read this omg i love you with my entire heart ◜ᯅ◝ i think the writing process here started good and then turned into something. i hope it wasn’t obvious that i just wanted to get over with this by the last section lolsies .. anyway single dad jay you will always be loved

[astrakim]

Cutest thingg everrr!!!💓🤭

[astrakim]

heyy!! i don’t know if your requests are open but i saw your marked by stars fic and LOVED it so i kinda started stalking your blog 🙈 and omggg you are sooo good??!! like literally one of the best i’ve read, i’m obsessed 🥹💖

sooo i REALLY wanted to request a fluffy jungwon scenario where y/n gets sick and jungwon insists on taking care of them 🥺💞 he makes soup, wraps y/n in blankets, and keeps checking their temperature, acting all responsible but also super soft at the same time 😭🫶 and maybe at some point he even sings quietly to help them fall asleep, but then ends up falling asleep beside them too… still holding their hand 😭💕 pls make it extra cozy and heartwarming if you can ✨🌸

alsooo can i be the 🥂 anion??

pretty please 🥺👉👈

a/n: Omggg that's soo sweet of you!! Ofcourse you cann be the 🥂 anon! Also sorry that it took some time to write this.

Also the only reason i did not mention i could the requests is because i did not think anyone would be interested enough??!! but anyway here is you request haha🤭

Wrapped in You

warnings: none ( just soft jungwon)

word count: 1156

You wake to the kind of ache that makes the ceiling feel farther away than usual. Your throat is sandpaper; your head, a slow drum. Before you can sit up, the door eases open with a soft knock that feels more like habit than necessity.

“Hey,” Jungwon whispers, already halfway inside with a grocery bag hooked on one arm. “Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

He pads over in socks, his hair tucked neatly behind his ears, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows like he’s reporting for nurse duty. When he presses the back of his hand to your forehead, his brows knit immediately.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, voice tipping into that careful, responsible tone he gets when he’s worried. “Like… very warm. Scale of one to oh-no warm.”

Despite the ache, you smile faintly. “Oh-no?”

“Oh-no,” he repeats, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your hairline. “I’m going to make soup. Ginger, garlic, the works. You just… cocoon.”

He gathers every soft thing within reach: the big quilt, the fuzzy blanket that smells faintly of him, and the knitted throw you always forget you own. He tucks the edges around you with absurd precision, like you’re a burrito he’s proud of. When you try to protest, he shushes you with a quiet smile.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, setting a glass of water and the thermometer on the nightstand. “Scream if you need me. I’ll sprint.”

You don’t scream. You just listen.

From the kitchen comes the soft rush of water, the clink of a knife, and the hiss of a pot coming to life. He moves like he’s trying not to disturb the air, careful and unhurried. Every now and then he calls out, “Hydration check!” and you sip just enough to yell back, “Sipped!” His relief carries easily down the hall.

He reappears with a tray: a steaming bowl, a tiny dish of lemon wedges, a plate of crackers, and a timidly proud smile. The scent of ginger, garlic, and scallion wraps around you like another blanket.

“Open,” he says, blowing on the spoon before offering it up. He waits until you swallow, eyes fixed on your face as if you’re a delicate experiment. “Okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you croak.

Jungwon lights up. “Good. There’s more. And then meds. And then thermometer again. And—don’t look at me like that—yes, I set timers.”

He even shows you his phone: three alarms labeled Soup, Meds, and Temperature (serious), plus one that just says You Got This 🐱. You laugh, though it rattles in your chest, and his hand immediately rubs soothing circles on your back until the cough eases.

He feeds you until you insist you can manage, then hovers anyway, propping pillows and brushing your hair back with ridiculous tenderness. After you’ve taken medicine, he taps the thermometer, reads the number with a small nod, and makes a note of it like he’s building a chart in his head.

“Still high,” he says softly. “We’re going to do cool cloths.”

You watch him fold a washcloth carefully and lay it across your forehead, his thumb brushing your temple with quiet precision. The world blurs, soft and hazy, and when you blink, he’s tucking the blankets tighter again, as if any draft might steal you away.

“Stay,” you whisper, catching his sleeve.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises instantly, sinking onto the edge of the bed. After a moment he adds, “But… can I ask for something?”

Your eyes flicker open. “What?”

“Permission to fuss.” His smile is sheepish. “I know I’m doing… a lot.”

You slide your fingers to his. “You’re doing perfect.”

Relief eases his shoulders. The room hums with the radiator and the soft patter of rain that must have started sometime after the soup. He checks your temperature again, notes the tiny drop with a secret little fist pump, then settles beside you against the headboard.

“Do you want me to put on a show?” he asks. His voice turns shy. “Or… I can sing. Quietly. If you want.”

You tilt your face toward him. “Sing.”

His eyes soften. He shifts closer, lacing his fingers with yours, and begins a low melody he usually hums when no one is listening. It’s steady and soothing, stitched together like a lullaby. The notes curl through the room like steam from the soup, warm and healing.

Between verses he re-wets the cloth, pats it dry, and replaces it with careful hands. He never lets go of your fingers, simply learning how to do everything with one hand.

“Your voice,” you murmur drowsily, “makes the room feel smaller. But… in a good way.”

He grins. “Cozy-small?”

“Exactly.”

He keeps singing, voice softening further, until your lashes begin to flutter and the ache in your head fades back. When your breathing evens out, he doesn’t stop, just lowers the volume to almost nothing, as though silence itself might wake you. The rain deepens. The alarm labeled Temperature (serious) buzzes, and he thumbs it off without moving your hand from his.

“Five more minutes,” he whispers. “They’re sleeping.”

Eventually, his head tips toward yours. He checks your temperature one last time—another drop, and he smiles at the small victory—before sliding down until he’s level with you. He tries to remain upright, responsible, on guard. But when your fingers tighten around his in sleep, that undoes him. He shifts closer, tucks your joined hands under the blankets, and rests his cheek on the pillow beside yours.

“Got you,” he whispers, eyes finally closing.

You drift somewhere between the echo of his song and the steady warmth of him beside you. When you stir later, just enough to notice the quiet, you find Jungwon asleep too—lashes curled against his cheeks, lips soft, still holding your hand like a promise. The washcloth has slipped to your temple; he must have tried to fix it and lost the battle with drowsiness.

You squeeze his fingers lightly. He squeezes back, even in sleep.

The thermometer sits silent on the nightstand, the alarms dismissed. In the hush of rain and breath, you’re wrapped in soup and song and the kind of care that makes getting better feel inevitable.

For the first time all day, you think: tomorrow will be easy. Not because you’re already well, but because Jungwon will be here—mixing honey into tea, making bad puns about burritos, setting new timers with names like Almost There and Proud Of You.

For now, you close your eyes and let the warmth hold you. His hand is safe in yours. He’ll wake up soon and pretend he never fell asleep on duty, and you’ll pretend not to notice. You’ll both wear the same soft smile that says everything:

I’m here. I’ve got you. Rest.

©astrakim Need more? check Masterlist

Requested by 🥂 anon

[astrakim]

Heyy my lunas wanna know more about me?

✨ Astra (she/her)

06’ • aquarius • enfp

groups: enhypen, txt, seventeen

ᯓ☆ Heyy, i’m astra ✧

Half stardust, half soft chaos —

If you ask nicely, I'm all yours ♡

i love writing little worlds, daydreaming about what-ifs, and crying over my biases way too often. you’ll mostly find fics, ramblings, and a sprinkle of chaos here.

multi-stan at heart ♡

✦ i am a hopeless romantic + serial daydreamer

♡ bias line-up: Ni-ki • jungwon • jake | beomgyu • jeonghan

⚠️ 18+ only! this blog isn’t for minors. i write + reblog fics that may include swearing, suggestive themes, alcohol mentions, angst, and unfiltered feelings. if you’re underage, i’ll block.

🪐 note: all writing here is fiction. it doesn’t represent or claim the real personalities, actions, or thoughts of any public figure.

© @/astrakim — don’t copy, translate, or edit my work without asking first.

#astra ⋆｡°✩

[astrakim]

TEXTS WITH BF! LEE HEESEUNG

pairings: reader x non idol! heeseung

warnings: none

Check out my masterlist if you are OpEn MiNdEd

Likes and Reblogs are really appreciated!

© All right reserved to astrakim

a/n: So this was my first time trying smau, itd not as good as i imagined in my head.. (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

[astrakim]

All This Cheese

>summary: When Sunoo casually drops on a live that he once dated in school, Y/N—watching from home—finds herself pouting over a girl from his past she’s never even met. What starts as silent sulking turns into a warm, laughter-filled evening when Sunoo comes home determined to coax the truth out of her. Between stolen kisses in the kitchen, chocolate-dipped strawberries on the couch, and whispered promises that she’s his only present and future, the jealousy melts away—leaving nothing but tooth-rotting fluff and a clingy boyfriend who refuses to let go.

>warnings: mild jealousy, brief insecurity, playful possessiveness, heavy domestic fluff, skinship (kisses, cuddling, lap pillow), teasing, soft reassurance, casual mention of past school relationship (pre-debut), social media live causing misunderstanding, food mentions (strawberries, chocolate dip, tteokbokki), zero smut, no arguments, quick emotional resolution

>Word Count: ~1.8k

Reblogs and Likes are really appreciated.

Enjoy your read!

Masterlist

You’re chopping strawberries when your phone buzzes on the counter. The screen shows Sunoo’s live, already half an hour in. You dry your hands on a dish towel and prop the phone against a sugar jar, smiling at the sight of him curled on the dorm couch in a pale blue hoodie, hair pushed off his forehead, cheeks glowing.

“I ate too much tteokbokki,” he complains, clutching his stomach with a dramatic wince. “Manager hyung said I can’t nap, so I came here.”

The comments fly. You skim, smiling, until one line catches your eye.

“Sunoo, have you always been single?”

He laughs softly. “Since debut, yes. Before that… not since birth.” He scrunches his nose. “I dated once. In school.”

Your hands still. The knife hovers over the cutting board. The chat erupts with caps and emojis. Your chest goes tight in an irrational, syrupy way. You swallow, force your face neutral, and go back to slicing, but the pieces come out uneven.

He keeps talking, light and harmless. “It wasn’t serious. We were kids.” Then he reads another comment and shakes his head. “No details. Privacy.”

It’s nothing. You know it’s nothing. You also know he didn’t do anything wrong by answering, but the thought of some old classmate getting to hold his hand before you did makes your stomach feel like soda. You end the live, put your phone face down, and stab a strawberry a little too hard with a fork.

The door unlocks twenty minutes later. You don’t look up, suddenly very interested in rinsing an already clean bowl.

“Baby?” Sunoo’s voice is warm and familiar. Shoes off, keys in the tray, hoodie still on. He pads to the kitchen. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, not turning. You are being cool and normal and not jealous of a ghost from sophomore year.

His chin lands on your shoulder. He smells like laundry and a hint of syrup from the studio snacks. His arms link around your waist, palms spreading over your sweater. He sways you side to side as if you’re music he likes. “Did you watch my live? I told them my stomach hurt. It still hurts. You should kiss it better.”

“You can take antacid,” you reply, rinsing the nothing-bowl again.

He hums. “Or you could kiss it.”

You slide the bowl into the rack. “How was practice?”

He leans in, lips brushing your cheek. “It was fine. Hyung made me redo the chorus four times. Then I rewarded myself with tteokbokki which is why the stomach…” He trails, peeking at your face. “Why do you look like a cloud that wants to rain?”

“I don’t,” you say, which is a lie. Your mouth settles in a pout you can’t control.

He soft-gasps. “You do.” He flips you gently to face him, leaning against the counter next to the strawberries. His eyes search yours, soft and curious. “Okay. Tell me.”

“Nothing.”

“Something,” he says. He hooks a knuckle under your chin and tips your face up. “You don’t have to protect my feelings. They’re very sturdy. Like… a turtle shell.” He blinks. “That sounded cooler in my head.”

You try to laugh and end up sighing. “It’s silly.”

“I like silly. I am silly.” He squeezes your waist. “Give me silly.”

You chew your lip. “Your live.”

“My live,” he repeats, patient.

“You said you, like… dated. Before debut.”

“Oh,” he says softly. His brow lifts, understanding slotting into place. “And you didn’t like that.”

“I didn’t like the idea,” you mumble, cheeks warm. “Of some girl in your school holding your hand and you smiling at her and… you know. I know it was nothing. I’m not mad. I’m just… pouty.” The last word comes out small.

Sunoo’s mouth curves. “My pouty baby,” he says, and somehow it doesn’t make you defensive. It melts you. He taps your nose. “Thank you for saying it.”

You look at the floor. “It’s dumb.”

“No,” he says. “It’s honest.” He eases the dish towel from your hands, sets it aside, and pulls you fully into his arms. “Can I tell you my version?”

You nod into his hoodie.

“I was a kid,” he says, cheek resting on your hair. “I didn’t know who I was yet. I liked the idea of being liked.” His hand rubs your back in slow circles. “It lasted a short time. It taught me that I wanted something real and safe and a little bit silly.” He kisses the top of your head. “Which I found with you.”

Your throat tightens. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can and I should,” he says. “I will again.” He tips back to see your face. “Also, present Sunoo would like to point out that past Sunoo didn’t have a choice in your strawberry cutting skills.” He glances at the mangled fruit and clutches his heart. “Tragic. Heartbreaking. Someone call a chef.”

You swat his chest and finally smile, small but genuine. “Shut up.”

“Never,” he grins. “But I can be quiet if you kiss me.” He puckers. You try not to, but he’s so earnest, lips soft and glossy, eyes trusting. You lean up and kiss him once, quick. He chases you for a second one, longer. His hands slide to your lower back, warm through the fabric. You feel the pout in you dissolve like sugar in tea.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, “Jealousy looks cute on you, but I don’t want you to wear it. I want you to wear my hoodie and my ring and my name in your phone with too many hearts.”

“I already have your name with too many hearts,” you mutter.

“Good,” he says, pleased. “Keep adding. I’ll earn them.”

“You already do.” You peek at him. “I just… didn’t like them asking you. Like they’re allowed to tug on strings that belong to us.”

“They’re not,” he says. “I’ll be more careful how I answer. I didn’t think.” His thumb strokes the line of your jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I want to be,” he says. “Because you looked at the floor like the floor offended you.” He kisses your pout until it lifts. “How do I fix today?”

“Stay home,” you say immediately. “No more schedules, no more lives, no more tteokbokki. Just… you and me and the couch.”

His eyes light. “Couch date,” he agrees. “I’ll bring a blanket, and you bring forgiveness and strawberries that are not crimes.”

“Rude,” you laugh, but you’re already reaching for a bowl. “Fine. We can make chocolate dip.”

He helps. He melts chocolate on low heat while you stir. He steals one strawberry to “test quality” and yelps when you flick water at him. He retaliates by grabbing you around the waist and lifting you off the floor for a second. You squeal, feet kicking, arms around his shoulders, faces inches apart. Both of you freeze, smiling, hands not moving.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you say, breathless.

He sets you down carefully and kisses your cheek, then your temple, then the corner of your mouth like he’s following a map. “You’re my present and future,” he says quietly. “My before doesn’t touch that.”

You swallow. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he says without hesitation. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Double knot.”

You carry the chocolate to the coffee table while he builds a nest of pillows and throws. He tucks you under his arm, legs tangled, blanket over both of you. The TV plays something you won’t remember because he keeps turning your face toward his for more kisses. Small ones, sweet and slow. He holds your hand under the blanket and traces your knuckles with his thumb like it’s a habit he never wants to break.

Halfway through your second strawberry, he nuzzles your ear. “Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers.

“What?”

“In school,” he says, voice soft, “I thought I understood what having a crush was. Then I met you and realized I had no idea.” He laughs, embarrassed. “You walked into a room and my brain forgot the alphabet. You smiled at me and I forgot choreography. I still do, sometimes.”

You blink at him. “You’ve been forgetting choreography a lot lately.”

“Exactly,” he says, eyes glittering. “It’s you. Always you.”

You set your strawberry down and hug him like you’re trying to dissolve into his hoodie. He hugs back just as tightly, chin hooking over your shoulder, a content little hum in his chest. Your earlier jealousy feels far away, replaced by a warm, steady glow.

“Thank you for telling me,” you murmur.

“Thank you for listening,” he answers. “And for being pouty. I like taking care of pouty you.” He presses a kiss to your jaw. “But I like you happy more.”

“I’m happy,” you say. “Especially when you’re clingy.”

“Oh, I’m very clingy,” he promises. He proves it by sliding down until his head is in your lap, then catching your hand and kissing each fingertip. “See? You’re stuck. I’m your very cute, very heavy cat.”

You card your fingers through his hair. “My cat doesn’t demand kisses.”

“This cat does,” he says, puckering again. You give him one. He smiles lazily, eyes half-closed. “Mine,” he mumbles.

“Yours,” you agree, and it’s easy.

The credits roll. The chocolate bowl is empty. He sits up to stretch and immediately folds back around you, arms tight, like letting go even for a second felt wrong. “Do you still feel weird about the live?” he asks.

You think about it and surprise yourself with the answer. “Not really.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Next time I’ll just say I’ve been in one relationship my whole life.” He taps your nose. “This one.”

“That’s cheesy,” you tell him.

“I’m lactose tolerant,” he replies, very serious. “I can handle all this cheese.”

You burst out laughing and he beams. He pulls the blanket higher, kisses you again, longer this time, until your fingers curl in his hoodie and his smile slides into something soft and reverent. He pulls back just enough to touch his forehead to yours.

“I love you,” he says.

Your heart does that fizzy thing again, but it doesn’t feel like jealousy this time. It feels like home. “I love you too.”

“Okay,” he whispers, relieved and excited all at once. “Good. Now feed me another strawberry. And then we nap. And when I go live tomorrow I’ll tell them tteokbokki is out and cuddling is in.”

“You can’t say that,” you protest, giggling.

“I can say I’m busy,” he says, eyes bright. “Busy being very not single.” He pecks your lips and snuggles in. “Very, very not.”

You roll your eyes and stroke his hair until he relaxes against you. The couch is warm, the apartment smells like chocolate and clean cotton, and his hand keeps finding yours under the blanket like it belongs there. The world outside can ask whatever it wants. In here, you have your answer.

a/n: Guyss I have a confession to make. I'm in love with Sunooo!!😭😭 Like he is saur cuteee omgg I'm dead!!🫠

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[astrakim]

Marked by the Stars

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

>Genre: Soulmate AU ・ Fantasy AU ・ Slow Burn ・ Angst with Comfort ・ Fluff ・ Romance ・ Lowkey Mutual Pining ・ Emotional Growth

>Summary: Jungwon is dying—and he doesn’t even know who touched him.

Y/N is falling apart too, unaware that her soulmate bond has been activated.

A golden bruise marks them both.

Now they must stay close to survive.

But every touch feels too good—and every glance feels like falling.

Is it just the bond keeping them alive? Or something deeper pulling them in?

>Warning: Soulmate dependency (life-threatening), Emotional vulnerability, Jungwon and Y/n questioning the bond. Both needing constant reassurance about their bond. Heavy skinship/romantic tension, Fluff, angst, and slow-burn intimacy.

>Word count: (Part 1) 8.2k Masterlist

Enjoy your read!!

In a world much like our own, destiny carved a different path for human connection—a force so potent it transcended logic, time, and even life itself. Here, the concept of soulmates wasn’t a dreamy idea or a romantic myth—it was a biological necessity, an unshakable law of nature.

Everyone was born with the potential for a soulmate. Not all bonds were activated. Most lived ordinary lives never knowing who their other half might be. But for the rare few—when fate decided it was time—a single touch would ignite everything.The first touch.A brush of fingers in a crowd. A bump of shoulders on a rainy day. A moment so brief it would be forgotten—except for the golden bruise that bloomed on their skin like a seal of fate. That bruise wasn’t just a mark. It was the beginning of a dependency so profound it could unmake a person.Because from that moment on, touch was no longer optional.It became survival.Soulmate bonds, once activated, turned into a lifeline.

Physical connection—skin to skin, however brief—was required. At first, missing a few hours without their bonded one left people restless, anxious. But as time went on—days without touch, without presence—the body began to deteriorate. Muscle pain. Headaches. Vomiting. Weakness. Paralysis.Eventually, death.Exactly like a person deprived of food or water, the bonded soul began to die.Three-quarters of bonded pairs managed to find each other in time. Some were already close, friends or lovers who didn’t realize they were meant to be. Some were strangers who bumped into each other once and spent the next few days chasing that golden mark, frantic and desperate. For them, fate was merciful.But one in four never made it.They wandered the world weak, disoriented, desperate—and died waiting for a touch that never came.Governments responded. Identification systems were created to detect the golden soulmate mark. Hospitals became first responders to bond-activation symptoms. Major corporations and entertainment industries, where employees traveled often, formed emergency soulmate task forces to avoid losing precious lives.Even then, the losses mounted.Because knowing your other half existed and not having them was the cruelest pain of all.

The soul didn’t just crave. It demanded. And if denied, it decayed.For some, the bond was beautiful. Euphoric. They described a simple touch sending waves of pleasure through their body—soothing, warm, addictive. For others, it was overwhelming. They hated how vulnerable it made them feel. How dependent. How exposed.Because once the bond was made, the other person became everything.Not just a lover or a partner.But sustenance. Air. Blood.And that was the world they lived in now. A world where falling in love wasn’t a choice.It was written into skin and nerve endings.It was fated.And fate could be beautiful.Or it could burn.

-----------------𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩—--------------------

It happened in the chaos—a blur of movement, bodies pressing in from all sides, flashing lights, and distant screaming that blended into a roar in Jungwon’s ears. The airport was overcrowded, the exit route mismanaged, and his security team barely held the line between him and a sea of fans.He didn’t know who she was. Didn’t see her face. All he remembered was the briefest brush of skin. A bump of arms. A fleeting contact so inconsequential, it barely registered through the adrenaline and noise. But that one touch was enough to set everything in motion.His left wrist burned.Not the sting of pain. Something deeper. Like warmth had erupted beneath his skin, not from heat, but from light. His breath hitched behind his mask. He stumbled a step, disoriented, then kept walking, convinced it was nothing. He didn't even glance down.

By midnight, his hand trembled when he tried to lift it. He watched his fingers respond sluggishly, the weight of them unfamiliar, as if they belonged to someone else. The gold shimmer had spread—now a pale, glowing stain that climbed from his wrist toward his elbow like creeping ivy.The next morning, he couldn't move his fingers at all.He sat on the edge of his bed, shirt wrinkled, eyes hollow, clutching his useless arm with the other. The fear settled in slowly, a thick knot in his throat that tightened with each passing hour. He hadn't told anyone. Not yet. Not until he knew for sure what it was. But somewhere deep inside, he already did.He’d heard stories like this. Everyone had. Not from tabloids or fan theories, but from government medical reports, buried blogs, and survivor accounts that no one dared call fiction. Soulmate bonds. Once believed to be myth, but now widely acknowledged, even studied—though rarely understood. And in the rarest of cases, when a bond was triggered without awareness, and the soulmates failed to reunite quickly enough, the consequences were devastating.Still, Jungwon had always distanced himself from the idea. He was practical. Rational. The concept of soulmates felt like romantic fluff dressed in scientific language. And now here he was, staring down at a golden mark that pulsed with a faint light, his left hand cold and unmoving.He kept it secret until the sickness spread.By the third day, the ache had bloomed into waves of nausea. He couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. The entire left side of his body buzzed with a numbness that came and went in agonizing cycles. He leaned against the bathroom wall after vomiting for the second time in an hour, sweat cooling on his forehead, fingers trembling as he tried to hold onto the counter.He heard a knock. Sunghoon’s voice outside the door.

“You okay?”Jungwon wanted to lie. To brush it off. But the words didn’t come. He slowly sank to the floor, head in his hands, and didn’t answer.They called the manager. The company doctor. Nothing helped. IV fluids and medication did little to curb the progression. The golden mark had spread to his shoulder, glowing brighter, as if desperate for something it couldn’t reach. He lay in bed, pale and feverish, heartbeats irregular, breaths shallow.That’s when he admitted it.

“It’s a soulmate bond,” he said through cracked lips.Silence fell over the room.His manager’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure?”Jungwon let out a bitter laugh. It was hollow. “Look at my arm.” Sunghoon was at his side in a second, gently pulling back the blanket. When they saw the mark, both the staff and the members froze.Jungwon didn’t want the press involved. He didn’t want headlines, rumors, fan theories dissecting every move. He didn’t even want the girl.He hated her.He hated that she had done this to him. That one stupid touch in a crowd had reduced him to this: a shivering, aching shell of himself. Dependent. Fragile. Weak. All because of someone he didn’t even know.And yet his body craved her like air

.---

Y/N thought it was the flu.It started slow. A little fatigue, a bit of dizziness. She popped two paracetamol and climbed into bed, assuming she’d be fine by morning. But the next day, her limbs felt like lead. Her head throbbed. Her arm ached—specifically where a strange bruise had formed, a shimmering golden patch just beneath her skin.She traced it with shaking fingers, baffled. It didn’t hurt like a normal bruise. It hummed. Like something alive. But her brain couldn’t process it. She dismissed it. Just another weird symptom.By the third day, she couldn’t walk more than a few steps without falling.Her vision blurred. She vomited everything she ate. Her hands trembled violently. She tried calling a friend but dropped her phone three times before managing to dial 911.

“Please,” she whispered to the dispatcher. “I think… I think something’s wrong.”The paramedics found her unconscious on the floor

---

The doctors were confused. Bloodwork came back clean. No infection. No fever. Yet her body was in complete shutdown. Heart rate irregular. Muscles weak. Nerves flaring. And the golden discoloration on her arm? Was she soulmate bonded? But who was her soulmate then?Unexplainable.

But not to HYBE.

They were already looking for her. She was also at the airport that day. There were high chances of her touching Jungwon. And her being soulmate bonded too? Bingo! She had to be her!

When they finally confirmed her identity, everything moved quickly. She was transferred without explanation. Private ambulance. No windows. Monitors beeping steadily. She drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of the panic unfolding behind the scenes.When she next opened her eyes, the world was white. Sterile. Bright. Her limbs were heavy. Her chest hurt. A dull buzzing filled her ears.She heard murmurs. Footsteps. A voice. Familiar, but strained.Jungwon lay in a bed next to her, face gaunt, skin sickly pale, his left arm resting limply across his chest. Their hospital beds were only inches apart.Staff whispered, urgency rising.They brought her hand to his.She didn’t know what was happening. Couldn’t even protest. Their fingers brushed.And the world shifted.

The moment their skin met, something inside her snapped back into place. Like a puzzle locking into its perfect fit. Warmth exploded from her chest, radiating outward in waves that pushed back the numbness, the nausea, the ache. She gasped.Jungwon arched slightly, a shudder rolling down his spine. His lips parted in a silent breath, eyes fluttering open for the first time in hours.Electricity surged beneath their skin. Not the sharp, biting kind. Something deeper. A full-body sigh of relief, like drowning lungs getting air. Her hand clenched his without thinking. His grip tightened.Every nerve ending was alight.She felt alive.And he—for the first time in days—felt like himself again

.---

They both slipped back into unconsciousness. This time, peacefully.The bond had been fed.When Jungwon woke again, the room was quiet. Dim. The curtains drawn. The hum of machines low. His body felt… better. Lighter. He shifted slightly, wincing at the stiffness, but not the pain. He looked to his side.She was still asleep, her face turned toward him on the pillow, lashes long and dark, brow slightly furrowed. Their fingers were still linked.He didn’t want to look at her. But he couldn’t stop.Her presence was a balm and a curse all at once. He hated that she soothed him. Hated that she was the reason he almost died. But most of all, he hated that his heart had calmed the moment he realized she was beside him.She stirred. Slowly. Eyes fluttering open, hazy with confusion. When she saw him, her lips parted.

“You,” she whispered.

“You were there… that day.”His voice was cold.

“At the airport.” Her eyes widened slightly. She pulled her hand back, as if just now realizing they were touching.She looked down at her arm—at the gold bruise, glowing faintly beneath her skin.“I didn’t know,” she said quietly. “I thought I was just sick.”

Jungwon swallowed the sharp retort on his tongue. He looked away. “So did I.”Neither of them moved. The space between them felt dense. Heavy with all the things unsaid. She drew her knees up beneath the blanket, curling slightly. He turned his face to the window.But they stayed like that.Awake.Alive.And, despite everything—touching.

---

Jungwon didn’t sleep for almost forty hours.Not properly.Even as his body trembled, curled weakly into the hospital bed with wires tapping in and out of him like vines, his eyes remained open. Glazed, but open. Every breath was a weight. Every beat of his heart felt… short. Too short. Like a machine sputtering on the edge of failure.And he still hated her for it.His soulmate.The girl he hadn’t even seen.The girl who didn’t even notice what she had done.The company had the hospital wing sealed off within hours. They stayed close.For days, they didn’t move more than a few feet from each other. Not because someone told them to. But because they simply couldn’t.The further they got, the worse it felt. Headaches. Chills. That crawling ache at the base of their necks. So they shared meals. Shared a couch. Shared silence.They didn’t talk much.Because what do you say to someone whose existence is now tangled in yours?Jungwon watched her when she wasn’t looking.

Y/N avoided his eyes like they were sunlight.He hated how much he noticed about her now. The shape of her hands. The way she tucked her lip when nervous. The small frown she wore was like a badge of fear.he wasn't supposed to feel like this.She was the reason he almost died.But when she fell asleep beside him that third night, curled on the hospital cot like a paper doll, he reached for her hand without thinking.And smiled when the pull stopped hurting.

—

Recovery had a deadline.It arrived quietly. A message from HYBE’s team. Medical clearance granted. The bond had stabilized. Physical symptoms had dulled into background hums. They could walk. Talk. Breathe.It was time to return.Jungwon sat in the window seat of their suite, elbows on knees, eyes dull as he stared out at the gray sky. The world was moving again. Schedules. Practices. Rehearsals. Comebacks. But inside him, everything still felt frozen.Y/N was across the room, folding the sweatshirt she’d worn almost every day since being admitted. She hadn’t said much since they were told they could leave. Not because she didn’t want to. But because she didn’t know how.

“They want me back at the dorms tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Early. They said the boys have been...waiting.”She nodded. “I have work next week too. The bookstore called. My manager said my friend’s been covering my shifts.” Silence.

The truth hung in the air between them like fog: they couldn’t stay in this room anymore. The stillness. The safety. It had to end.But the bond didn’t end.The magnetic ache still stirred the second they drifted more than a few feet apart.Jungwon cleared his throat. “They gave me a device. It’s supposed to alert me if our distance gets dangerous. And they’re installing something at your place too.”

“Right,” Y/N said softly. “Soulmate surveillance. How romantic.”He cracked a dry smile. The first real one in days.

---

Returning wasn’t smooth.The moment Jungwon stepped into the dorm, it hit him—a gnawing dread he hadn’t noticed in the sterile quiet of recovery.Voices greeted him. Hugs. Questions. The other ENHYPEN members looked tired. Visibly strained. But they masked it with smiles.Sunghoon was the first to pull him into a quiet hallway.“We’re glad you’re back, Jungwon. But...things got rough while you were gone.”Jungwon frowned. “What happened?”Sunghoon hesitated. “Some rehearsals fell apart. We had two missed interviews. And Ni-ki...he’s been acting out.”“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”“You were dying, Jungwon.”The words stopped him cold.He didn’t argue.But now, every room he walked into felt like it carried weight he’d left behind. Practice was quieter. They watched him like they were afraid he’d vanish again. He noticed the subtle missed steps, the fatigue beneath their eyes.As a leader, he felt...absent.Even when he was physically back.

---

Y/N returned to her world too.The bookstore smelled the same. Dust and pine cleaner. Her friend Mina greeted her with a tight hug and teary eyes.“You didn’t text me for days. I thought you were dead.”“I didn’t know what to say,” Y/N whispered. “I didn’t know how to explain it.”“So explain it now,” Mina said, crossing her arms. “What happened? You disappeared and now you’re glowing and your skin is clear and you look like you’ve been in a romance drama.”Y/N laughed, but it cracked in the middle.“I touched someone in a crowd. Just a stranger.I thought. But...it triggered a soulmate bond.”Mina stared at her. “Are you joking?”“I wish I was.”Y/N showed her the fading gold mark. Mina gasped.“Oh my god. Who is it? Do you know him?”

“I didn’t. But he’s…”She hesitated.

“He’s an idol.”

Mina’s jaw dropped.

“Jungwon,” Y/N added. “From ENHYPEN.”

Mina sat down immediately. “You are the plot of a webtoon.”

--

They tried to live normally.But normal didn’t exist anymore.Jungwon felt the pull every morning. He’d wake up breathless if Y/N wasn’t already awake. If she stayed at her place more than a few hours, he felt it. Like a string pulling tight inside his chest.He started texting her. Just to check.

Jungwon: Are you okay?

Y/N: Yeah. Just restocking books. You?

Jungwon: Rehearsing. Kinda sucks without you around.

He regretted sending that.

But she replied:Y/N: lol same. even Mina keeps saying I look like I’m waiting for someone.

Jungwon: Aren’t you?

She didn’t answer.

---

The next weekend, HYBE requested they meet for monitoring. They spent the afternoon in the company’s private apartment unit.Jungwon arrived first. Pacing.When Y/N entered, he looked up and visibly relaxed.They didn’t need to say anything. The pull softened the second she was close.That night, they sat on the couch again. Too tired to talk. Too aware to rest.Then he said quietly:“Do you still hate this?”She looked at him. “I don’t think I ever hated it.I just hated not understanding it.”He nodded slowly. “I hated it because it made me need someone.”“And now?”He turned to her. “Now I think... I was already needing someone. I just didn’t know who.”Their hands brushed. He didn’t pull away.She let their fingers intertwine.The pulse of warmth returned. Gentle. Electric. Familiar.But for the first time since the bond began, they didn’t feel like strangers.They felt like gravity.

—---

There was no perfect term for what they were now—“soulmates” felt too sacred, too heavy. “Strangers” felt wrong too. So they lived in-between.It became routine. Every other day, HYBE arranged discreet locations for them to meet. Sometimes it was a quiet company apartment, other times it was the smallest practice room after hours. Always away from cameras, always away from questions.They’d sit. Say little. Stay close enough to stop the ache. Then leave.Jungwon hated the silence more than he admitted.He wasn't used to not knowing what to say. He’d spent years training to lead, to comfort, to keep composure even when everything was falling apart. But every time Y/N walked into the room, his throat tightened.Not because he was afraid of her. But because she made him feel seen. And being seen scared him more than being alone ever did.He'd ask how her day was. She'd ask how practice was. They’d talk about nothing. And yet, it kept them breathing.

---

His members didn’t ask questions anymore. They watched him carefully, always careful not to burden him. That made it worse.One afternoon, Jungwon walked into the practice room to find Sunoo quietly crying in the corner. Jay and Heeseung looked up in alarm, but didn’t say anything.

“What happened?” he asked.

Heeseung just shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Jay looked at him. “You’re already handling enough, Jungwon. We didn’t want to add more.”

Jungwon clenched his fists. “I’m your leader. Let me be that.”

He crouched down beside Sunoo and sat with him in silence. The younger boy didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Jungwon just reached out and squeezed his hand.That night, he didn’t text Y/N. But she messaged first.

Y/N: You okay? I felt… like you weren’t.He stared at the screen for a long time.

Jungwon: I’m tired of not knowing how to fix everything.

Y/N: Maybe you don’t have to fix everything. Maybe you just have to show up.

---

Meanwhile, Y/N’s world grew louder.Her friend Mina kept watching her closely, like she was afraid she might collapse again. She didn’t blame her. The glow had faded from her cheeks again. Her fingers would go numb sometimes. Her heart would pound too fast when she went too long without seeing him.Still, she didn’t know how to explain the bond to people who hadn’t felt it.“You like him?” Mina asked one evening.Y/N was shelving books, her arms heavy. “I don’t know.”“Do you want to like him?”Y/N closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I get to choose.”Mina hugged her. “Maybe don’t think about choosing him. Just choose you. What makes you feel human again.”

The answer came days later in a dark company apartment, when Jungwon let out a soft laugh at something she said.He looked lighter. So did she.They weren’t healed. But they were healing.

---

They started doing little things.He brought her ginger candy after he found out she liked it. She brought him a scented hand cream because he kept rubbing his palms after dance practice.One day, she surprised him with a bag of snacks and quietly said, “I read somewhere sugar helps bond fatigue.”He looked at the bag for too long.“You okay?” she asked.“I just…” He rubbed his jaw. “I forgot what it felt like to be cared for without being needed.”They sat close that day. Not touching. But breathing the same space like it mattered.

---

The ache wasn’t as sharp anymore.Sometimes they went hours apart without feeling it. Sometimes a full day.But something lingered beneath the skin—this unnamed tension neither of them acknowledged. Like they were teetering on the edge of something more, but neither of them wanted to move too quickly.The world didn’t wait.Cameras would return. Fans would ask questions. Their names might leak together in rumors.But for now, they had this. This awkward, delicate rhythm.Not friends.Not lovers.But tethered.And trying

----

There was a golden hum that settled in Jungwon’s chest every time she touched him. Not fireworks. Not explosions. Something steadier. Like warm static trapped under his skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.The problem was—he didn’t know if she felt it too.Every time they held hands, that static surged through his arm like a current. It made him flinch the first few times. Now it just made him embarrassed.It happened again during their Tuesday meeting. She reached for his wrist absentmindedly while they stood in line for coffee at the quiet staff café HYBE booked just for them.

A touch—nothing more—and his whole spine straightened.She must’ve noticed. She quickly dropped his hand like it burned.He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.They didn’t talk about the way they fumbled to grab each other’s hand again minutes later, this time slower, intentional, like maybe if they did it right, it wouldn’t short-circuit their brains.It didn’t help. If anything, the second time was worse.They locked fingers, and the golden rush zipped through him like a shot of honeyed electricity.Her eyes flicked up. She blinked too many times.“Do you—” he started. “No, nothing,” she said too fast.He nodded. “Right. Nothing.”Then they stood there, both silently wondering if it was just them feeling it. Or if this was just… how soulmates worked.

--

At some point, Y/N started being referred to (by a few over-curious staff) as the girl-that-makes-Jungwon’s-heart-do-weird-things.She overheard it in a hallway. She didn’t react, but it stuck.Because it was oddly accurate.She didn’t know if it was the bond or just him, but she couldn’t stop watching the way his hair clung to his forehead after practice. Or how he rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip when he was thinking. Or how he always said her name like it was delicate.But the electric touch never stopped being startling.One day, she touched his wrist while handing him a bottle of water. He flinched hard enough to drop it.“Sorry,” she said, kneeling to pick it up.

“No, I—it’s not you. It’s just…” He cleared his throat. “Never mind.”Their fingers touched again by accident. The rush hit them both at the same time.She inhaled sharply. He looked away. His ears were red.After that, they started to avoid casual contact. Which only made things more awkward. It turned every unintentional brush of skin into a whole scene of pretending not to care

.---

She sat in his practice room one day, trying not to look at him as he ran the choreography. He looked exhausted. His moves were perfect—of course—but the sweat didn’t stop dripping, and his hands were trembling every time he hit a sharp mark.“You okay?” she asked after the music cut.He nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired.”“You’ve been training twelve hours a day.”He forced a smile. “It’s what we do.”But she knew better. There was a different heaviness in his breath. Like something deeper was draining him.She reached for his hand to pull him down beside her.The second their palms met, the jolt shot through her whole body.He stiffened.Their eyes met for half a second.She didn’t pull away.Neither did he.They just sat like that, breathing in sync, both trying to pretend the room didn’t suddenly feel charged.

---

Two days later, he collapsed in their shared dormY/N wasn’t there yet. He was lying face down on the bed, barely moving, the bones in his shoulders like stone.She walked in, saw him limp like that, and nearly dropped her bag.“Jungwon?”No answer.She rushed over, kneeling beside him. “Hey. Can you hear me?”His eyes fluttered open slowly.“I… I can’t feel it,” he whispered.“What?”“The bond. It’s not… I can’t feel you.”Her heart slammed in her chest.She took his hand. Nothing.The panic bloomed like fire. “No, no, this isn’t—this isn’t right. It always works. Why isn’t it working?”“I think it’s because I waited too long. I pushed too far.”She nearly started crying. “Don’t say that. We’ll fix it. Just—just stay here, okay?”She pulled the blanket aside and crawled next to him. They lay still for a moment, her hand on his chest, her fingers twitching.Then she turned her back and carefully leaned into him. Their spines aligned.She kept whispering in her head, don’t hug him, don’t hug him, don’t hug him

—---

Jungwon woke up dazed.And very confused.Is someone hugging me?He blinked, and then blinked again.There was a warm weight flush against him. A hand on his chest. His arm trapped gently beneath a smaller one.Y/N.She was very close. And not hugging him.Not officially.He didn’t dare move.The scent of her hair was faint but comforting. The shape of her back fit into him like they’d been carved from the same pattern.He could feel her whole body breathing in sync with his.His brain short-circuited.He whispered, “This is not a hug. This is survival.”She didn’t stir.And he had never felt more electrified and soft at the same time.

---

The teasing didn’t take long.Jake nearly burst into the room when he heard about Jungwon fainting.But then he saw the scene: Y/N calmly feeding Jungwon soup while they both sat very, very close on the couch.Jake grinned. “Is this what bonding therapy looks like?”Jungwon didn’t answer.Heeseung joined them later that night. “The girl-that-makes-Jungwon’s-heart-do-weird-things. I finally understand. I thought it was just poetic.”Ni-ki made a kissing noise and ran when Jungwon threw a pillow at him.And all the while, Y/N just kept her head down, lips curled at the corners, fingers slightly brushing his.

---

That night, as she got ready to leave, he followed her to the door.“Hey,” he said, voice quiet.She turned. “Yeah?”He looked at their joined hands. “Do you feel it too?”“The…” She hesitated. “The golden rush?”He nodded.She swallowed. “Every time.”He looked relieved. Then smiled. Softly.“I thought maybe it was just me,” he said.“Me too.”Their fingers brushed again.And that warm, humming pulse swept through them.They both stayed still for a long moment.Neither said anything else.But it was the first time it felt okay to be silent.

---

Morning sunlight filtered through the thin dorm curtains when the door creaked open, and a HYBE-appointed doctor walked in with a clipboard, her glasses halfway down her nose and her expression already set to unimpressed.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” she said flatly, making Jungwon instantly groan and sit up straighter from the couch. Y/N, still groggy from sleep, blinked in confusion. She had barely gotten her socks on.The doctor sighed like she’d dealt with a hundred idiots this week and they were the most exhausting ones yet.“I got your medical reports. And let me tell you—soulmate pairings like this do not happen every year. This is the kind of bond that gets recorded.”

Y/N blinked harder. “Recorded?”

“Documented. Case study level. You two practically have a gold-threaded tether. That’s why every time you avoid contact for too long, the bond doesn’t know what to do with itself. It goes haywire.”Jungwon sat frozen.

“Haywire?”

“Yes. Collapsing-on-the-floor haywire.”The doctor turned to Y/N and crossed her arms.

“Did you know that every single time you left this boy’s side, his core temperature dropped? His cells went into stress mode.”Y/N looked genuinely horrified.

The doctor continued, voice rising. “You two can’t keep playing footsie with the bond. You’re not ordinary soulmates. You’re imprint-bonded. You need proximity. Constant proximity.”

“How much proximity?” Jungwon asked, hesitant.The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “How about all the time.”

“All?”

“Yes. All. The. Time.” She jabbed a finger into her clipboard. “Until your bodies stabilize the tether, you can’t afford emotional distance, let alone physical.”The silence that followed was full of sheer horror.The silence didn’t last long.

Later that afternoon, Y/N found herself seated in a sleek HYBE conference room, where the long glass table reflected the overhead lights like a still lake. Papers were spread before her. Contracts. Clauses. Her name typed in clean, stark print beside Jungwon, Yang.She couldn’t stop staring at it.Jungwon wasn’t in the room —he was in dance practice, or so they told her. That was the plan. Keep her alone. Let her think. Let her process. Maybe they thought she’d feel less cornered that way.But the truth was, she already felt cornered.

A female staff member—someone who had been unusually kind to her throughout the whole process—sat across from her, watching with gentle, understanding eyes. “You’re not being forced,” she said softly, not for the first time. “You can say no. We’ll figure out a way to help Jungwon without this.”Y/N looked up at her. Her throat felt tight. “And if I say no… he gets sick again, doesn’t he?”The woman’s silence said enough.Y/N glanced down at the pages. The words were starting to blur together, but the meaning stayed sharp like a knife’s edge:She’d have to move into dorm-adjacent housing.Be on standby for tour dates.Be within ten feet of Jungwon for most of the day.Eat meals together.Sync sleep cycles.Soulmate bonding, they called it.But it sounded an awful lot like giving up her life.Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her hoodie. She thought about her friends back home. Her small rented apartment. The plants on her windowsill. The job she’d started to like. Her routines, her peace.She thought about the girl she’d been before the golden bruise bloomed against her palm.It was so fast, all of it. Too fast. Just days ago, she was barely sleeping from the strange aches in her chest.

And now—Now, the boy she barely knew was breathing her name in his sleep, and collapsing when she wasn’t near him.Was it love?No.Not yet.But it was something—something raw, unshaped, pulsing beneath her skin like a second heartbeat. Something that made her chest flutter at the brush of his fingers and left her awake at night, wondering what it meant to be chosen by the universe so violently. So permanently.She remembered the way his voice softened when he spoke just to her.She remembered the expression on his face when the doctor scolded them—like he hated being weak, but hated even more that she had to carry the burden of it.And somehow, despite all the unknowns, despite the fear that clawed at her ribs, despite how unfair it all felt—She didn’t want to leave him alone in this.Y/N exhaled.Her hand moved to the pen.“Tell Jungwon,” she said quietly, “that I signed it.”The staff member’s eyes softened further, and she gave a small nod. “I think he already knew you would.”Y/N blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry.

Because the moment the pen hit the paper, it felt like everything changed again—Not the flutter this time.Not the golden pull of soul-bonding.But something more human.A choice.A promise.A quiet yes, even in the middle of all this mess.And maybe that’s how soulmates were supposed to begin.Not with fireworks.But with sacrifice.With silent understanding.With the willingness to stay.

—

Jungwon didn’t even wait for the door to shut behind the staff member.As soon as she said the words — “She signed.” — and left him standing in the middle of the practice room, he was already moving.His body, still aching from hours of choreography, didn’t slow him down. His mind didn’t have time to catch up either. It was instinct. Gut-deep. Like something magnetic inside him had snapped taut, pointing in her direction.By the time he reached the empty hallway outside the HYBE conference room, he nearly collided with her.She was walking slowly, almost cautiously, her hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands and her lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. She looked smaller than usual. Or maybe it was just that she looked… burdened.Their eyes met.And suddenly Jungwon didn’t know what to do with his hands.He’d imagined this a hundred different ways—her storming out, angry, yelling that she didn’t sign. Or worse: refusing to look at him at all. But now she was here. Quiet. Real. Still Y/N.He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“You okay?” she asked first, breaking the silence.He blinked. “Me? You’re the one who just signed away your freedom.”A twitch of a smile ghosted across her lips. “You make it sound like prison.”Jungwon stepped forward, voice softer. “Isn’t it?”She shrugged, but he saw the honesty when she looked up. “I don’t know yet.”There was a moment. A pause that stretched with unspoken words. The hallway was quiet, muffled by distance from the building’s buzz. Only the fluorescent lights hummed overhead.Then, carefully, almost tentatively, Jungwon reached out.His fingers brushed against hers. Not a full handhold. Just that point of contact. That thread.And there it was—the unmistakable pulse of the bond. Warm, gold, electric.She flinched.“So you still feel it too,” he said quietly.She gave a tiny nod. “Every time.”Their fingers slid together. Hands clasped now, fully. Her pulse fluttered against his skin. The golden warmth surged, just as it always did—but this time, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was grounding. Familiar. Like the storm in his chest had finally stilled.“You didn’t have to say yes,” Jungwon murmured. “You could’ve said no. HYBE would’ve figured something out. I would’ve…”“I know,” she whispered. “But you’re not the only one in this. I feel it too. All of it.”His throat tightened.And it hit him—all at once—that no one had ever chosen him like this before. Not out of loyalty. Not out of responsibility. But just… because.Because she wanted to stay.Because she wanted to try.“Thank you,” he said, voice almost breaking.She gave a shaky smile. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m moving into your dorm, remember?”Jungwon let out a breath of laughter, relief bleeding through. “Right. Chaos incoming.”“And you better clear out some space on your shelf,” she added, mock stern. “Because my skincare routine is serious.”He grinned wider, the weight behind his eyes easing. “Noted.”And for a moment, they just stood there—two strangers bound by something bigger than both of them, still fumbling in the dark, still afraid… but not alone.Never alone.He gave her hand a light squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go now.”

---

An emergency staff meeting was held less than two hours later.It was Jake who spoke what everyone was thinking. “So basically… Y/N’s moving in?”The manager nodded. “For now, yes. It’s temporary, until they balance the bond. We’ll figure out logistics after a week.”Jungwon looked like someone had told him to eat raw lemons with a smile.Y/N, on the other hand, looked like someone had been asked to share her high school diary out loud.The dorms were already packed. But staff made arrangements. Sunghoon offered to room with Ni-ki for a few weeks. Jake offered to sleep on the couch. Heeseung simply grinned and told them not to break the furniture.“No promises,” Jungwon muttered, cheeks red.

--

By afternoon, Y/N was lugging a suitcase and a bag of toiletries into the shared apartment.“Whoa, moving in already?” Ni-ki teased from the hallway.Y/N smiled nervously. “Apparently, my body is toxic to Jungwon if I don’t breathe near him.”Jake popped his head out of the kitchen. “We all kind of assumed that, but hearing it aloud is wild.”Y/N let out a soft laugh, trying not to feel self-conscious.As she stepped into the main room, a familiar noona staff member greeted her with a full duffel of items.“Here,” she said. “Fresh toiletries. New towels. Three pairs of shoes. Hair dryer. Oh, and I bought you some clothes to change into so you don’t have to keep wearing your travel stuff.”Y/N blinked. “Oh… thank you so much.”Just as she took the bag, Jungwon entered the room, stretching his arms over his head.“I was just going to bring her clothes!” he said, voice full of mild panic. “Like my shirts or sweats or something—”

“Oh, she’s good,” the noona smiled. “I bought her some cute loungewear and regular stuff from a few places.”Jungwon’s ears went red.Jake raised a brow. “You were gonna give her your clothes?”Jungwon stammered. “I—I mean if she needed them! Obviously I wouldn’t just—”Heeseung leaned into the doorway. “Bro. Just say you wanted her in your hoodie.”Sunghoon chimed in behind him. “Too late, he’s flustered now.”Jungwon’s mouth opened. Then closed. “Shutup.”Y/N tilted her head. “Didn’t hear what you said?”“Nothing!” Jungwon nearly yelped. “Nothing important.”But she caught something in his eyes.Soft. Red. Warm.And maybe something else—anticipation?

---

Later that night, when everyone else was tucked into their routines, she shuffled down the hallway barefoot.She had changed.Not into the new loungewear.But into a hoodie that was definitely not hers.The sleeves hung past her hands. The scent of detergent and faint cologne clung to the threads. She hadn’t even realized what she’d grabbed until she saw herself in the mirror.She froze. Her heart sped up.But… it was warm. And it felt safe.She didn’t change.---Jungwon came out of his room to grab water. And then he saw her. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair tied loosely, flipping through a book, with his hoodie on. He stopped walking. His brain fully short-circuited. She looked up. “Hey.” His throat dried up. “Hey.” He slowly moved toward the kitchen counter but couldn’t stop staring. The sight did something absurd to his chest. Something golden and fluttery and embarrassingly giddy. She had no idea what it was doing to him. She was just sitting there. Wearing his clothes. Oblivious. He poured water. Missed the glass. Spilled half. “Need help?” she asked, confused. “No, I—I’m good,” he said, voice cracking. He leaned over the sink, gripping the edge. Why does she look better in my hoodie than I do?

The bond buzzed faintly beneath his ribs. But this wasn’t the bond. This was him. Just him. Wanting her to always look like that. Soft and golden and wrapped in something that belonged to him. He turned back around. “You… you cold?” She shook her head, hugging the hoodie around herself. “No. This is perfect.” He nearly melted. Back in his room, he sat on the edge of his bed for a full five minutes. His heart wouldn’t calm down. His chest felt like it was blooming. And all because she wore his hoodie. He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so screwed.” It started innocently enough. Y/N was in the common room, laughing at something Jake said. The two of them were leaned over the kitchen island, poking fun at some old trainee footage they’d found. Jake was impersonating dance trainers in overly exaggerated voices, and Y/N was laughing so hard she nearly choked on her juice. Jungwon walked in halfway through the chaos. At first, he didn’t think anything of it. Jake was the kind of person everyone liked. Friendly, golden-retriever energy, effortless charm.

But then Jake nudged Y/N’s arm. She nudged him back. Then he teased her about her handwriting on the grocery list, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Then they were laughing. Again. And again. Too much. Jungwon sat on the couch without saying a word. But his eyes didn’t leave them. His fingers curled slightly. He didn’t like it. He didn’t know why he didn’t like it. She was laughing. Being herself. That was good, right? But the way Jake was looking at her—like she was the sun with a grin—and the way she was laughing like Jake was the funniest person alive…

Jungwon felt something unfamiliar burn beneath his ribs. Was this jealousy? Was he really jealous of Jake? He didn’t even know he’d stood up until he was walking toward them. Y/N looked up, still smiling. “Hey, Jungwon—” “You’re my soulmate, not Jake’s.” The words spilled out before he could catch them. Y/N blinked. Jake froze. Jungwon blinked too. Oh. Oh no. Y/N looked… stunned. “Um… yeah? I am?” Jungwon’s brain fried. He facepalmed right there, groaning. “God. What am I doing.” Jake snorted into his sleeve, failing to suppress his laugh. Y/N tilted her head, confused but amused.

“Are you okay?” “No. Clearly not,” Jungwon muttered, turning around and walking straight into the hallway doorframe. “Smooth,” Heeseung called from the hallway, having seen everything. “Shut up!” Y/N looked down at the floor, cheeks warming. Jake leaned over. “That boy is down bad.” She didn’t answer. But the golden flutter in her chest said enough. It started with a simple task. “Can you two pick up the laundry and drop by the market after practice?” Manager-nim asked, handing them the list. Y/N nodded. “Sure.” Jungwon, who was sipping water from his bottle, merely gave a thumbs up. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Just errands. But Y/N’s heart had other plans. The laundry place was a ten-minute walk away, and she hadn’t expected the weather to be so warm. Jungwon had noticed the sun in her eyes and wordlessly handed her his cap. “I’m not gonna wear that,” she said, blinking. “You’ll get a headache,” he said simply, pulling it over her head. His fingers brushed her hairline. Y/N’s heart jumped. She didn’t say anything. But her cheeks were burning. When they walked side by side, the fabric of his hoodie occasionally brushed her hand. Each time, she flinched—not from discomfort, but from the bolt of awareness that shot up her arm. The tether wasn’t glowing. It wasn’t golden or pulsing. But she was. She was fully, helplessly aware of every inch of him beside her. The market was crowded, so Jungwon instinctively reached out and took her wrist, steering her gently. She nearly tripped over air. He didn’t even seem to notice how casually he did it. But she did. Oh, she so did. While checking vegetables, Jungwon picked out green onions and muttered, “These are the ones Heeseung likes.” “You remember that?” she asked. He shrugged. “I’m the leader. I’m supposed to.” And yet… she watched him hold the shopping basket with one hand and scan the list with furrowed brows. She watched the way he instinctively reached for things she couldn’t reach, like it was second nature to help her now. She didn’t know when that started. But her heart fluttered again. Later, while waiting at the register, she asked, “Do you… always take care of people like this?” Jungwon blinked. “Like what?” “You remember what they eat. What they like. You make sure I don’t walk into traffic.” He grinned. “It’s just instinct, I guess.” Y/N looked down at her shoes, smiling quietly. It was more than instinct. It was him. The walk back to the dorm was quieter. Not because they had nothing to say, but because she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he was. He carried the heavier bags. He reminded her to tie her shoelaces. When a breeze picked up, he subtly shifted between her and the wind. Stop fluttering, she told her heart. Just because he’s a good person—

But her thoughts were interrupted when he turned to her suddenly and said, “Thanks for today.” She blinked. “What for?” “For making this soulmate thing a little less… scary.” Her breath hitched. The flutter turned into a full-blown flight. She smiled softly. “You’re welcome.” It was late. Everyone was asleep, save for the quiet whirr of the fridge and the ticking clock above the hallway. Y/N sat at the far end of the living room couch, a glass of water untouched beside her. The lights were off, save for a warm lamp behind the TV casting soft shadows across the walls. She couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts had been too loud lately. Too full of glances she shouldn’t have noticed, and heartbeats she didn’t understand. She had thought the soulmate bond would feel like pressure. Like chains. Like responsibility. But it felt like Jungwon. It felt like safety. Like warmth in a hallway draft. Like someone knowing you well enough to pull you out of your own silence.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was quiet behind her. She turned to see him standing near the kitchen doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his eyes heavy but awake. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You?” “Same.” He padded over and sat beside her. A little close, but not too much. Just enough that the air between them hummed. For a moment, they just breathed in the silence. “I’ve been thinking,” she said softly. He tilted his head, watching her. “Yeah?” “About… what it means. Us. This bond.” Jungwon looked down at his hands. “Same.” A beat passed. “I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she whispered. “Like what?” “Not like chains. More like…” She struggled. “Like something soft. Something I didn’t know I needed.” Jungwon’s breath hitched. “I thought it would ruin me,” he admitted, voice rough. “The idea of being dependent on someone. Being weak because of someone.” She looked at him. “You’re not weak.” He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “I was literally bedridden. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t eat. I was angry. At you. At the bond. At myself.” She winced.

“I’m sorry.” “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quickly. “I just… hated feeling out of control. Especially in front of the guys.” “You’re their leader.” “Exactly.” “But even leaders need someone, sometimes.” He turned to look at her, really look. His eyes weren’t sharp like on stage or guarded like in meetings. They were soft, glassy even. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said quietly. “Me neither.” He let out a breath. She smiled faintly. “But I think that’s okay.” Another long silence passed, but this one felt like a blanket. Like they were swaddled in something unsaid, something raw. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we hadn’t found each other?” she asked. Jungwon nodded. “All the time.” “I was in so much pain. And I just kept thinking I was sick, or tired, or crazy.” “You weren’t,” he whispered.

“I know that now.” A pause. “But it’s scary,” she added. “How fast everything changed. How much of my life is suddenly... wrapped around someone I barely know.” He flinched. Not from offense, but from truth. “I know,” he said. “I feel that too.” She looked down at her hands. “But when I think about not having this? Not having you?” Her voice caught. “It’s worse.” Jungwon looked like he wanted to say something. His throat bobbed. His eyes flicked to her, then away. “Yeah,” he said

Their hands didn’t touch. But they didn’t need to. The air was golden. Heavy with all the feelings they weren’t quite ready to name.

Little did they know.... they were one step closer, closer to something noone saw coming but right now?

Right now, they dont have to worry because they still have each other.

Main Masterlist Part 2 Part 3

a/n: 100 likes for part 2? Also if you read it till now can you please tell me how was it? Should i change something in my writing style? I'm still new to this writing stuff so i can't quite figure things out so your feedback will be really appreciated. Thank you so much!!

Reblogs and likes are really appreciated!

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The Space Between Us

[Part 1] [Part 2]

> enemies to lovers | slow burn | bed-sharing | fluff, angst, emotional smut

>genre: childhood rivals to lovers,

friends-forced-to-share-a-bed, emotional tension,

slow burn

>word count: 17.9k [combined]

>summary: They started as neighbors. Then came a stupid night - and suddenly, Heeseung and Y/N were enemies. Years of rivalry, endless tension, and a thousand unspoken feelings between them.

When a group trip forces them to share a bed, everything changes. Jealousy flares. Secrets unravel. And the line between hate and desire blurs in ways neither of them expected.

What if the enemy was never really the enemy?

>series warnings: suggestive tension, mutual pining, soft vulnerability, swearing, kissing, a lot of staring, protected sex (wrap it yall), oral (f.rec), fingering, heeseung is a flirt, misunderstanding, Sunoo lowkey OR highkey being a menace matchmaker, thats all ig let me know if I should add anything

>date: [3/6/25]

note: This is my first fic ever guyss, its not that good yet as I'm just starting out but its worth reading.

Reblogs and likes are really appreciated.

Enjoy your read!.

Masterlist

Heeseung was annoyingly pretty.

Not the kind of pretty that made you weak in the knees, but the kind that made you want to punch a wall out of pure spite. He had a face that could’ve been sculpted by artists who hated modesty — sharp jaw, smooth skin, eyes that looked like they always knew more than you did. And he walked like the world owed him something, like confidence was stitched into his spine.

I hated that he was tall. I hated that he smelled good even after gym.

I hated that no matter how much I tried, he always got under my skin.

I hated how his smile always made my heart flip.

And the worst part?

He grew up next door.

---

We weren’t always like this.

There was a time when Heeseung was the kid who’d sneak bugs into my backpack just to make me scream — and I’d chase him down the street with a plastic baseball bat. Summer evenings meant chalk drawings on the sidewalk, dripping ice cream cones, and lazy dares on the swingset.

How we were always joined by hip, going anywhere and everywhere together.

Until...until the day we weren't.

“Why Do You Hate Heeseung So Much?”

People ask me that all the time.

Usually when we’re out — surrounded by too many snacks and too few brain cells — someone always turns to me with a grin and says,

“Come on, Y/N. Be honest. Why do you hate Heeseung so much?”

And I always have a list ready.

“He’s insufferable.”

“He thinks being tall makes him superior.”

“He flirts with waitresses then tips like a grandpa.”

It’s become a bit. A running joke.

But the truth?

The truth is I don’t actually hate Heeseung.

I just never forgave him.

Not really.

Because back when we were fifteen, there was this one night — the kind you don’t really forget.

The kind you carry with you even when you’re trying hard not to.

It was warm out. Sticky, quiet. One of those summer nights where everything feels a little more honest.

We ended up in the treehouse behind my backyard — the one we used to play in when we were kids. It wasn’t planned. Just one of those things where I looked out the window and saw him pacing his driveway, and he looked up like he was waiting for me to.

So I went.

And we talked.

About things we didn’t talk about with anyone else.

His parents. My insecurities. Feeling stuck. Feeling… seen.

For a second — maybe longer — it felt like something changed.

Like maybe we weren’t just neighbors. Or childhood friends. Or that weird undefined space in between.

There was a pause.

A moment.

I swore he was going to kiss me.

He didn’t.

And that was fine, a little disappointing because I always wanted him to be my first kiss… but it was fine.

But the next day?

He ghosted.

No texts. No calls. No “you up?” late-night window knocks like usual. Just… nothing.

Avoided me at school. Like I had made everything up in my head.

So when my friend asked about it, I said it was nothing. Just a “weird night.”

I laughed it off. Pretended I didn’t care but I did.

Pretended it didn't hurt but it did.

I waited. I gave it a day. Then another. Then another.

And eventually, I got tired of waiting.

I kept thinking: Was I wrong? Did I imagine it?

Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to him. Maybe I’d read it all wrong.

So I got angry. At him. At myself. At all of it.

Until one day….

“…Y/N, what do you think?

I blink out of my thoughts, realizing Professor Kim is looking directly at me — marker in hand, pausing mid-diagram.

Crap.

I glance at the board. Cellular respiration. ATP. Glycolysis. Okay, not too bad.

“It produces a net gain of two ATP molecules,” I answer, trying to sound confident.

Professor Kim smiles. “Exactly.”

And then from across the room — like clockwork — a voice I’ve been trying to ignore for the past three months speaks up, slow and smug:

“That’s… technically wrong.”

My head snaps to the right.

Heeseung.

Of course.

I clench my jaw. “No, it’s not.”

He leans back in his seat, arms folded, looking so pleased with himself.

“Pretty sure it’s four ATP, not two. You might want to actually read the textbook instead of skimming the summary.”

The class collectively exhales — that quiet, anticipatory hush that means oh, they’re fighting again.

I don’t even hesitate. “It produces four, but the net gain is two. Because you invest two in the energy investment phase.” I say it slowly, like I’m talking to a toddler. “Try to keep up.”

Someone near us snorts.

Heeseung’s smile twitches — the fake one he does when he’s losing. “Wow, look at you. One correct answer and suddenly you’re Bill Nye.”

“And yet, still doing better than you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

“No, I use the thought of beating you in literally everything.”

“Dream big, Y/N.”

“Oh, I do. And you losing is a recurring theme.”

Professor Kim clears her throat sharply.

“That’s… enough. This is a biology class, not a debate club.”

The room awkwardly shuffles back to silence. But the damage is done. The tension — electric and unmissable — simmers between us.

That was the day we stopped just not talking.

And somehow, we turned into rivals.

Every answer. Every grade. Every seat in the library.

We competed. We snarked. We fought over who got the front seat and who picked the movie.

And it stuck.

It wasn’t just silence anymore.

It was a war.

Now we’re that pair. The two people in the group chat who always have beef.

So when people ask, “Why do you hate Heeseung so much?”

I shrug and give them a new fake reason.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

By high school, we were fluent in mutual loathing.

Group projects? Nightmare.

Game nights? Constant sabotage.

Truth or Dare? Always dare — always dangerous.

Still, somehow, we had the same group of friends.

Which is how we both ended up in a shared cabin during a seven-day mountain trip planned entirely and suspiciously by Sunoo.

Day One:

It’s already golden hour by the time we pull up to the cabin.

The car ride was long, filled with stupid games, backseat arguments, and the occasional off-key group karaoke moment — but stepping out into the pine-scented air makes it all worth it. The place is beautiful: tucked into a clearing with string lights stretched across the porch, wooden stairs leading to a wraparound deck, and big windows reflecting the soft amber sky.

The cabin was charming, in a murder-in-the-woods kind of way.

“This is so cute,” Sunoo says, hopping out with his phone already out to record. “Everyone say ‘cabin core’!”

“Cabin core,” the group repeats in half-hearted unison, dragging their bags toward the porch.

I grab my duffel and start toward the stairs, only to hear the trunk slam behind me — and him right on my heels.

Heeseung brushes past like I’m not there, earphones still in, hoodie hood up despite the warm breeze. I resist the urge to trip him. Barely.

“Wow, look at the view,” Jake says from the porch, gazing out at the lake shimmering through the trees.

“I can’t wait to not move from this place for the entire week,” says Jay, stretching like he just completed a marathon.

The inside of the cabin is even prettier. Wood paneling, cozy furniture, a fireplace that Jake immediately tries to light (and is immediately banned from touching again), and the smell of cinnamon-scented something already in the air thanks to Sunoo’s overprepared weekend grocery bag.

Heeseung and I don’t say a word to each other.

We never really do anymore — not unless it’s sarcastic, competitive, or accidentally laced with heat we both pretend isn’t there.

It’s been like that for years.

Still, when I catch him looking at the bookshelf in the corner — the same exact way he used to look at my bookshelf when we were ten — I look away before I feel something stupid.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

The fire crackles.

Sunoo’s managed to light a proper bonfire outside, and we’ve all dragged blankets and folding chairs around it like a cliché summer movie. Someone’s speaker plays soft lo-fi beats, and the marshmallows are already melting unevenly on sticks over the flame.

It’s peaceful. Easy.

Well, mostly.

Heeseung’s sitting two spots away from me — too close to ignore, too far to fight with. He’s wearing that gray zip-up I hate because it makes his stupid collarbones more noticeable. The firelight dances across his face, and he’s chewing on a marshmallow like he owns the place.

I pretend to scroll through my phone. But I hear it — his laugh, low and lazy — when Jake says something dumb. The kind of laugh that used to be directed at me.

Now it just pisses me off.

“Alright!” Sunoo suddenly claps his hands together distracting me from my thoughts. He was oddly too excited for someone assigning sleeping arrangements.I know that look on Sunoo’s face. That scheming glint behind his sparkly eyes “So, for the rooms…”

“I already claimed the bed near the big window,” says Jay.

“Sunghoon and I are bunking,” Jake adds, poking his marshmallow. “I sleepwalk. He’s scared of ghosts. It balances out.”

“Then…” Sunoo smirks like this is the highlight of his night. “Room two… Heeseung and Y/N.”

And just like that—

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

We speak at the exact same time.

Heeseung throws a hand out toward Sunoo, like he can reverse time. “I’m not rooming with her.”

“Yeah, same,” I say, arms crossed. “Put me with literally anyone else. Anyone who doesn’t roll their eyes every time I breathe.”

Heeseung scoffs. “You’re one to talk. You hum like a microwave at 2AM.”

Room with him for an entire week??

God~ I won't survive.

Sunghoon, lounging on a log nearby, sips his hot chocolate and shrugs. “Too bad. All the other rooms are full. Unless you want to sleep outside with the bugs.”

I narrow my eyes. “What about the couch?”

“The couch is LAYLA’s bed,” Jake says sweetly, referring to their golden retriever who’s currently curled up like royalty on a throw blanket inside. “Sorry.”

Heeseung turns to me with a blank look. “This is your fault.”

I blink. “My fault?”

“You pissed off the universe somehow. And now I have to suffer.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, grabbing my bag and stomping toward the house.

“Don’t snore,” he calls behind me.

“Don’t exist,” I shout back.

≻─── ⋆✩⋆ ───≺

The room is nice. Cozy. Wooden cabin aesthetic, warm lighting, one queen-sized bed in the center.

We both stop at the door and stare at it.

“Nope,” I say first. “You’re taking the floor.”

Heeseung tosses his bag onto the dresser and raises a brow. “Excuse me? You’re the one who talks in your sleep. I’m not risking my life.”

“I do not talk in my sleep.”

“Sunghoon has videos.”

I glare at him. “Well then good. The floor will hide you from the sound of my ‘threatening’ sleep murmurs.”

He drops his bag to the floor with an unnecessarily dramatic thud.

“Fine. I’ll take the bed.”

“No, I’m taking the bed.”

He turns. “You just said I should take the floor.”

“Yeah, but I remembered you’re insufferable, and I’ve suffered enough.”

He walks over to the bed and sits on the edge slowly, locking eyes with me like it’s a silent dare. “Call dibs.”

I scoff. “Seriously?”

“Dibs.”

I fold my arms. “I will smother you with that pillow.”

“I bet you dream about doing that every night.”

The stare-off lasts too long. His knees are still touching the edge of the bed. I’m still gripping my hoodie like it’s a weapon. The silence stretches thin — until we both huff at the same time and speak in unison:

“We’re not sharing.”

Another beat passes.

“Fine!”

“You’re not touching me,” I say flatly.

“Like I’d want to.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

We both exhale.

Then, reluctantly — like it physically pains us — we mutter, almost at the same time:

“We’ll build a pillow wall.”

The cabin is silent except for the soft whisper of wind outside.

I’m barely asleep, the pillow wall between Heeseung and me standing like a fragile fortress.

Then—thud.

The pillows tumble.

I freeze, heart racing.

A soft curse escapes from the other side of the bed.

Heeseung’s voice, low and barely a whisper, breaks the quiet.

“Dammit.”

I swallow, eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight filtering through the window.

He shifts closer than expected.

I hold my breath.

“I’m not moving,” he says, voice rough but quiet. “You can move.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I inch closer too — just enough so our shoulders brush.

It’s accidental. It’s terrifying. It’s... comforting.

The warmth of his skin seeps through the thin blanket.

For the first time in years, the space between us feels less like a battlefield and more like home.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Day 2:

Sunlight seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cabin. The group stirs awake, groaning and stretching, dragging themselves toward the kitchen for breakfast. I’m still half-asleep, but the looming day ahead is impossible to ignore.

Sunoo’s voice cuts through the sleepy haze. “Alright, everyone! Zipline park today! Get ready to fly!”

Heeseung shoots me a look as if daring me to back out. I glare right back. “Chicken,” I say before anyone else can.

His smirk is all the answer I need. “You’re going down.”

The car ride is loud with music and chatter, but between Heeseung and me? Nothing but cold shoulders and barely concealed glares. I catch him stealing quick looks at me, and I pretend not to notice. The air between us is taut, like a wire stretched to snapping.

Arriving at the zipline park, the thrill buzzes through the group. Harnesses click on, helmets are tightened, and the guide’s instructions fill the air. I stand beside Heeseung on the platform, my heart pounding.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low, almost a challenge.

“Yeah. You?”

He jumps first, smooth and confident, and I grit my teeth before leaping after him. The wind roars past, and I land clumsily, trying not to look like a mess.

“Not terrible,” Heeseung says, barely hiding the teasing edge in his voice.

“Thanks for the compliment” I snap, brushing past him.

–

Later, in line for the next zipline, Jake and Sunghoon joke nearby, and I laugh at one of Jake’s dumb jokes. I don’t notice Heeseung’s gaze tightening on me.

“What’s so funny?” he says, voice casual but sharp.

“Jake told a joke. It’s funny.”

He snorts, but there’s something almost possessive in the way he looks at me — maybe jealousy? — before he masks it with a shrug. I roll my eyes, but it stings more than I want to admit.

---

The hike back is tense. Heeseung falls in step beside me, but there’s an uncomfortable silence between us.

“You’re annoying,” I mutter, bumping his shoulder.

He scoffs. “Right back at you.”

We bicker over who’s walking too slow, who’s taking the wrong path, and who’s responsible for ruining the snacks. The others laugh and tease us relentlessly.

Jay winks and calls out, “You two should just kiss already and save us the drama!”

The group bursts out laughing, and my face heats up instantly. Heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh — or maybe not trying hard enough.

“Shut up, Jay,” I say, but my voice is shaky.

Heeseung smirks, shaking his head. “Yeah, shut up.”

The teasing continues, and every time someone drops a “Maybe you’re secretly in love” comment, we both look away, cheeks burning, pretending not to hear.

By the time we reach the cabin, the tension hasn’t eased, but something under the surface has shifted — a quiet, uneasy awareness neither of us wants to admit out loud.

≻─── ⋆✩⋆ ───≺

The sun dips low as the group settles outside by a crackling bonfire. The air smells of smoke and pine, the sky painted with streaks of orange and purple. Everyone’s chatting, roasting marshmallows (which Sunoo managed to convince everyone should be a night thing of this trip), and joking around—but between Heeseung and me, the silence is almost deafening.

Sunoo nudges Jake, nodding toward us. “Hey, you two look like you’re about to start a fight or make out. What’s it gonna be?”

Jake laughs, “Honestly, just kiss already. We’re tired of this back-and-forth.”

I glare at both of them, cheeks heating up, while Heeseung shoots a warning glance my way.

“Shut up, you idiots,” Heeseung mutters, but the slight smile tugging at his lips betrays his embarrassment.

Later, as the group heads inside, the reality hits: We are still sharing that bed.

Sighing, I get ready to sleep.

The cabin is quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. The pillow wall between us still stands—though now a little worse for wear, more lopsided than before. We’re both lying on our sides, backs turned, eyes fixed on opposite corners of the room.

For the first time since we started sharing this bed, Heeseung’s foot nudges mine—a brief, accidental touch.

I don’t pull away.

Minutes stretch on.

His voice, low and hesitant, breaks the silence.

“Your jacket… it’s cold.”

Without looking, I shrug it off and toss it toward him.

He doesn’t move it back, just lets it lie there—on his side of the pillow wall.

Later, as I reach for my water bottle, my hand brushes against his. We freeze.

Neither of us says anything, but the awkwardness is different this time—less like a challenge, more like a question.

The pillow wall shifts again, wobbling precariously, and I laugh softly.

“Guess this thing isn’t very strong.”

Heeseung snorts, the sound almost like a smile.

“Yeah, neither are we.”

My heart skipped a beat. What does he mean by this? Did I hear it right?

We don’t say more, but the tension feels... lighter. The fights still come, but somehow, sharing this small space makes the distance between us just a little less unbearable.

As sleep pulls us in, the quiet between us feels less like a wall and more like a fragile bridge.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Day 3:

By morning, something is different. Not drastically, not in a way anyone could really name — but it’s there.

Heeseung doesn’t rush to the bathroom before me like it’s a competition. He even holds the door open. And when I come out, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes with a calm I don’t quite recognize.

“You snore,” he says flatly.

I scoff. “I do not.”

“You do. Tiny snores. Like a cartoon chipmunk.”

My pillow hits his back. He throws it right back at me, and for a second, we’re laughing — real, genuine laughter. It's strange. Light. I almost forget I’m supposed to hate him.

---

The group decides on the amusement park today. I should’ve known it’d be chaos — Sunoo bouncing with excitement, Jake challenging everyone to ride the tallest coaster, and the teasing? Nonstop.

“Oh, you two again,” Jay drawls as we climb out of the car. “Still alive after sharing a bed?”

“Barely,” I mutter.

“She kicked me in her sleep,” Heeseung says with mock betrayal.

“You deserved it.”

But it’s... gentler now. Even our bickering feels like a game we’re both playing, testing the boundaries of how far we’ve come since that first bitter night.

---

At the entrance, we split into smaller groups. I end up next to Heeseung in line for the haunted house. Typical.

He smirks. “Scared?”

“Of some fake zombies and fog machines? Please.”

“Should I hold your hand?”

His voice is casual, too casual — like he’s joking, but the heat crawling up my neck says otherwise.

“I’d rather hold a chainsaw,” I shoot back.

But he doesn’t stop smiling. Not the usual cocky kind, either. It’s softer. Like he’s not laughing at me — just enjoying watching me squirm.

Inside the haunted house, something grabs my ankle — one of those dumb animatronics. I shriek.

Heeseung’s arm wraps around my shoulder instinctively. It’s solid, warm, a little too comforting. I stiffen. So does he.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, pulling away like I burned him.

“No... it’s fine,” I say, almost whispering. I think we’re both too aware of how easy it felt. How natural.

---

By afternoon, we’re drifting in a carousel of games, rides, and too much cotton candy. I notice the way Heeseung lingers when I walk ahead, subtly slowing to match my pace. When I can’t finish my soda, he grabs it and without hesitation drink it from the every straw I drank from.

Is it a indirect kiss?

I slap myself out of that thought

Control y/n he’s your enemy. But he’s so handsome.

“Y/n…” Heeseung’s voice pulls me back to reality

“What?” I snap unintentionally

“You were staring” he teases

Before I could say anything my heart skips a beat again.

When he wordlessly pulls a strand away from my eyes when my hair gets tangled in the wind.

None of it feels forced.

But the moment that really hits me?

It’s a small thing. A game booth. One of those dumb ring toss games. I try three times — and miss every single one.

Jake jeers. “Y/N, do you have depth perception issues?”

“Watch and learn,” Heeseung says as he steps up.

He nails it on his second try.

The prize? A silly plush fox.

He turns and hands it to me without a word. Doesn’t even look at me.

I take it, trying not to blush. “I didn’t ask for this.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t say you did.”

But I don’t let go of it all day.

—

Later, the group settles in a food court, swapping stories and photos. Sunghoon and Sunoo scroll through pictures on Jake’s phone — most of them candid. I see one of Heeseung and me standing near the carousel. We're not touching. Not even close. But we’re looking at each other in a way I don’t remember doing.

“God,” Sunoo says with a dramatic sigh. “You guys are ridiculous. Just kiss already.”

“Not this again,” I groan.

Heeseung leans back in his seat, all casual confidence. “Maybe she should just ask.”

I blink. “Ask what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever’s been sitting on the tip of her tongue since that cabin night.”

My heart stutters. I hate how smug he sounds. I hate even more that he might not be wrong.

Jake raises a brow. “Wait, is this... flirting? Is Heeseung Lee actually being obvious for once?”

I nearly choke on my drink.

“I am not—he is not—ugh,” I stammer.

Heeseung just grins, eyes meeting mine across the table. There’s something in his expression — not teasing, not taunting. Just... open.

It shuts me up faster than anything else.

—

We leave the park in the golden hour, when everything glows a little too soft and a little too slow. I trail behind the group, lagging with Heeseung without meaning to.

“I forgot how fun this could be,” I say after a long pause.

He doesn’t answer right away, then quietly: “Yeah. Same.”

I glance up at him. The light hits his profile, and for a second, I see the boy I used to be best friends with. The one who used to sneak me his last grape candy because I liked it more. The one who used to race me home from school.

“Do you ever think maybe we...” I hesitate. “Misunderstood each other?”

His hand brushes mine. Just once. Barely.

“Sometimes,” he says. “But you were still insufferable.”

I scoff. “And you were still a smug little—”

“You liked it,” he cuts in, grinning.

Maybe I did.

Maybe I still do.

---

Back at the cabin that night, the pillow wall is still there. But smaller. Just two cushions now.

I lie in bed facing him, our shoulders almost touching.

“Heeseung?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For today.”

He doesn't speak. Just shifts a little closer. I feel the edge of the bed dip beneath him.

Then his voice, soft and almost sleepy:

“I’d win you another one. The fox.”

I blink.

Maybe we’re not enemies anymore.

Maybe we never really were.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

[Part 2]

Comment to get added to the tag list🦋

taglist:

@chadiyuu @kittympirty @elairah @m3wkledreamy

[astrakim]

✨ Urgent life-or-death question ✨

Who gives off "my brother’s best friend who’s secretly in love with me but hides it by being annoying and calling me names, yet would literally go feral if I cried" kind of energy?

🦘Jake : the golden retriever type who brings you snacks but acts like it’s no big deal and says “don’t tell your brother lol”

⛸️ Sunghoon : the cold one who pretends you don’t exist but gets all quiet when someone else flirts with you

This is for...umm.. scientific reasons. Totally not for my next delulu fanfic.

Vote with your whole chest.

Jake ৻ (•̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

Sunghoon (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Voting ended onAug 12, 2025

[astrakim]

Hehe I drew this in my boring math lec in like 30 mins

What do you guys think??

It still needs finishing and a little corrections here nad there but yeahh i was proud of it and wanted to show it off as soon as I can lol :)

Anyways I'm tryna cook something about brother's best friend Jake and am planning the storyline for it and the personalities of the characters, so please look forward to it hehe👉👈

Byee byee!!

--- Astra

[astrakim]

Thoughts?

Which hits harder?✨

He falls for you first (your brother’s best friend secretly crushing on you 😭)

You fall for him first (catching feelings for your brother’s best friend and try

Voting ended onJul 21, 2025

[gyuuberryy]

sweet on you!

pairing: brother's best friend!ni-ki x reader

genre: hogwarts au, brother's best friend trope, fluff

synopsis: you tried to ignore how ni-ki made your stomach flip. you really did. all you wanted was a normal term at hogwarts. instead, you’re dealing with a love-potion-struck ni-ki, whose clinginess and love struck antics are giving your poor heart(and patience) a workout. your brother thinks it’s hilarious. you think you might combust. and ni-ki? he just wants to snuggle forever.

warnings: lots of kissing, they makeout, hickeys, skin-ship, cringey nicknames, some angst, clingy! lovestruck!ni-ki

note: for the anon who wanted a ni-ki hogwarts au, so sorry for the delay!!😭 halfway into writing this i realised my nonchalant bro ni-ki would NEVER act like this but proceeded anyway since it's fiction so enjoyy reading!!

word count: 7.7k

if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3

you told yourself this term would be different. 

no more stolen glances across the great hall, no more lingering in the library just to catch a glimpse of his messy hair as he flipped through spellbooks. ni-ki was your brother’s best friend—always had been, always would be. that fact was as unchangeable as the house colours on your robes. and yet, every time he slung an arm around your brother’s shoulders, laughing too loud in that carefree way of his, your pulse betrayed you.

it wasn’t fair.

he was everywhere. lounging in the common room like he owned it, tossing a snitch between his hands while your brother groaned about quidditch drills. leaning over your shoulder in potions, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "you’re adding too much lacewing, y/n." his fingers brushing yours when he passed you a vial, the contact brief but enough to send sparks up your arm. you hated how your body reacted—how your stomach twisted, how your cheeks burned when he smirked at you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

you were good at pretending. you had to be. when he flicked your quill during study sessions, you rolled your eyes instead of smiling. when he called your name across the courtyard, you waved half-heartedly instead of sprinting to him. when he winked at you—always winking, always teasing—you looked away before he could see the way your breath hitched.

but then there were the moments you couldn’t control. the way your gaze lingered when he stretched after quidditch practise, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. the way your heart stuttered when he ruffled your hair, his laugh ringing in your ears. the way you memorised the curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely happy.

you were pathetic.

this term, you swore, would be different. you’d focus on your studies, on your friends, on anything but him. you’d stop daydreaming about what it would feel like if he looked at you the way he looked at the quidditch pitch—like it was the only thing that mattered. you’d stop wondering if he ever thought about you when you weren’t there.

because ni-ki wasn’t yours. he never would be.

and yet, when he slid into the seat beside you at breakfast, his knee pressing against yours under the table, your resolve crumbled all over again.

damn it.

   . . . 

you should’ve known better than to think this term would be easy.

the common room was its usual mess of noise and warmth—crackling fire, hushed gossip, the occasional shriek of laughter as someone recounted their latest mishap in potions. you were tucked into your favourite corner of the couch, a well-worn copy of advanced arithmancy open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in at least twenty minutes. your friends were bickering good-naturedly beside you, debating whether transfiguration or charms was the more practical subject, but you weren’t really listening. your mind kept drifting, as it always did, to the one person you were desperately trying not to think about.

then the door burst open.

a group of seventh-years stumbled in, grinning like they’d just pulled off some grand scheme, and dumped a tray of shimmering, unnaturally bright sweets onto the low table in the centre of the room. the candies pulsed faintly, shifting colours like liquid trapped in sugar shells, looking clearly enchantwd. a few curious hands reached out, but the seventh-years just smirked and said, "dare you to try one," before sauntering off, leaving behind a ripple of nervous excitement.

you barely had time to roll your eyes before the common room door swung open again, and there he was.

ni-ki.

your breath caught.

he was still in his quidditch gear, his hair damp and tousled from the showers, his cheeks flushed from the chill of the evening air. your brother trailed behind him, complaining loudly about some foul during practise, but ni-ki wasn’t listening. he was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his whole face alight with that effortless joy that made your chest ache.

then his gaze flicked to the tray of sweets.

"what’s this?" he asked, already reaching for one, his fingers closing around a candy that glowed a dangerous shade of pink.

something in your gut twisted.

"ni-ki, don’t—" you started, scrambling to your feet, but it was too late. he popped it into his mouth without a second thought, chewing once before his entire expression shifted.

his eyes, sharp and playful, always so alive suddenly went soft and unfocused. then they locked onto you, wide and wondering, like he was seeing you for the first time. 

"you’re beautiful," he breathed, voice low and awed, as if the words had been pulled out of him against his will.

the common room went quiet. your friends stopped mid-sentence. your brother blinked, confused. and you? you couldn’t move.

ni-ki didn’t hesitate. he crossed the room in three long strides, and before you could even think to step back, his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it stole your breath. his cheek pressed against the curve of your neck, his exhale warm against your skin. his hands were tentative at first, fingers brushing your waist like he wasn’t sure he was allowed—then, as if something in him snapped, they fisted in the fabric of your sweater, dragging you even closer.

you froze.

his heartbeat thudded against yours, rapid and unsteady. his scent—fresh grass and something faintly sweet, like strawberries—flooded your senses. you could feel every shift of his body, every unsteady breath he took, and it was too much. your hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to land, but your traitorous heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it.

"ni-ki," you managed, voice embarrassingly shaky. "what are you—"

he didn’t let you finish. he just nuzzled closer, his nose brushing your jaw, and murmured, "you smell nice."

your brother choked on his drink. someone giggled. your face burned.

this was bad. this was so bad.

because even as your brain screamed at you to push him away, to laugh it off like it was nothing, your body betrayed you. your fingers curled into his quidditch jersey, clinging just a little too tightly. your breath hitched when his thumb brushed your hip, absentminded but deliberate. a tiny, reckless part inside of you never wanted him to let go.

the candy was obviously cursed. it had to be. there was no other explanation for the way ni-ki was holding you like you were something precious, like he’d been waiting years to do this.

but then his lips brushed your ear, his voice so soft only you could hear it.

"i’ve wanted to do this for so long," he whispered, and your stomach dropped.

because what if it wasn’t just the candy?

what if, underneath the enchantment, some part of him meant it?

your brother’s voice cut through the haze. "alright, what the hell did you give him?"

laughter erupted around you, but you barely heard it. ni-ki’s arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your skin, and you realised with terrifying clarity—

this was only the beginning.

the next few minutes passed in a blur. your friends were howling with laughter, your brother was torn between amusement and concern, and ni-ki—ni-ki wouldn’t let go. not when you tried to gently pry his fingers from your sweater, not when your brother clapped him on the shoulder and said, "mate, you’ve got to snap out of it." he just held on tighter, his face buried in your hair, murmuring things that made your cheeks burn.

"your hair’s so soft."

"you’re perfect."

"i love the way you laugh."

each word sent a fresh wave of panic through you. because this wasn’t just some silly, fleeting crush anymore. this was ni-ki—your brother’s best friend, the boy you’d spent years pretending not to adore—holding you like you were the only thing that mattered, saying things you’d only ever dreamed of hearing.

and you had no idea what to do.

"we should get him to madam pomfrey," your brother said finally, though he was grinning like this was the best thing he’d seen all year.

ni-ki made a noise of protest, his arms tightening around you. "no," he mumbled against your shoulder. "stay with y/n."

your heart skipped.

your brother sighed. "alright, fine. but you’re coming with me, lover boy."

ni-ki whined—actually whined—but your brother was relentless, peeling him off you with a strength born of years of dealing with his antics. ni-ki’s hands lingered, his fingers brushing yours as he was dragged away, his eyes never leaving your face.

"i’ll find you later," he promised, voice still thick with whatever enchantment had taken hold of him.

your stomach flipped.

as the common room door swung shut behind them, the room erupted into chaos—laughter, theories about what kind of spell had been on those candies, bets on how long it would take for ni-ki to recover. but you just stood there, your skin still tingling where he’d touched you, your heart racing like you’d just run a mile.

when madam pomfrey had examined him the night before, her lips had pursed in that particular way that meant trouble. 

"this isn't your standard amortentia variant," she'd muttered, her wand tracing glowing patterns over ni-ki's dazed expression. "it's one of those experimental brews the seventh years keep inventing. it'll have to run its course naturally." 

you'd nearly choked when she'd added, "could be a day, could be a week," just as ni-ki blissfully unaware of your internal crisis, chose that moment to nuzzle his face against your hand like an overgrown puppy, his lips brushing your knuckles in a way that sent electric jolts up your arm.

"my moonbeam," he sighed dreamily, completely ignoring madam pomfrey's exasperated eye-roll. "your skin is so soft. are you made of clouds? you must be made of clouds."

your brother, the absolute traitor, was filming the entire thing on his enchanted camera.

but nothing, not even the humiliation of the hospital wing visit could have prepared you for the absolute nightmare that was the next morning.

the morning light filtering through your dormitory curtains was soft and golden, promising a slow, lazy day. you were still half-buried in your blankets, caught in that hazy space between sleep and waking, when the first sign of trouble came.

a faint creak of the door. the rustle of fabric. you assumed it was just one of your roommates returning from an early shower, until—

thud.

a muffled "oof" that you'd recognise anywhere.

your eyes flew open just in time to see ni-ki picking himself up from where he'd tripped over someone's abandoned shoes, his hair sticking up in every direction, still wearing yesterday's rumpled clothes. when he saw you looking, his entire face lit up like you'd cast the sun itself.

"good morning, sunshine!" he chirped, already climbing onto your bed before you could process what was happening. 

the mattress dipped under his weight as he settled at the foot of your bed, beaming at you like this was completely normal. 

"i waited outside for two hours. did you know the stairs turn into a slide if you're a boy? so rude. i had to bribe a first-year to tell me the password instead."

you sat frozen, your sleep-addled brain struggling to catch up. behind you, one of your roommates choked on her toothpaste. another pulled her blanket over her head with a groan.

"ni-ki," you hissed, acutely aware of your messy hair and the fact your pyjama top had slipped slightly off one shoulder, "you can't just—"

"but i missed you," he interrupted, as if this explained everything. his fingers found yours, lacing them together with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. "the second you left last night, my heart started aching. is that normal?" 

he brought your hand to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the steady beat beneath his shirt. "it feels normal when it's you."

you were going to find those seventh-years and strangle them with their own shoelaces.

his thumb traced the arch of your eyebrow, then drifted down to the curve of your cheek. you stopped breathing. the early morning light gilded his features in soft gold, catching on the tiny scar above his lip from that quidditch accident last year. you'd never been this close before, close enough to count his faint freckles, to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes.

before you could react, he was leaning in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple. then another just below your ear. then another along your jawline—each one lingering just a second too long, his breath warm against your skin.

"ni-ki—" you gasped, but he just hummed and continued his lazy path of destruction, his lips brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear that made your toes curl.

"you're so soft here," he murmured against your skin, his free hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone as his mouth continued its devastating exploration. "and here." another kiss, this time to the corner of your jaw. "and here." his lips grazed the pulse point beneath your ear, and you swore your heart stopped.

when you tried to squirm away, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you back against him with embarrassing ease. 

"where do you think you're going, snugglebug?" he teased, nuzzling into your neck. "i just got comfortable."

you were going to die. actually die. right here in your pyjamas with ni-ki's stupidly perfect lips tracing nonsense patterns across your skin.

"this isn't—you can't just—" you stammered, but your traitorous body was already melting into his touch, your hands fisting in the sheets to keep from reaching for him.

ni-ki pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something you couldn't name. 

"can't just what?" he challenged softly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "can't tell you how pretty you look in the morning? can't kiss every single mole on your face?" to demonstrate, he pressed his lips to the tiny one near your eyebrow. then the one by your nose. "can't adore you the way i've always wanted to?"

your breath caught. that couldn't be—he didn't mean—

before you could overthink it, his mouth found yours in a kiss so sweet it made your chest ache. just a brush of lips, barely there, but it shattered you completely. when he pulled away, his smile was brighter than the sunrise streaming through your windows.

"pancakes?" he asked, as if he hadn't just rewritten your entire universe with one kiss.

you could only nod, dazed.

as ni-ki helped you up (his hands lingering at your waist, his lips stealing one last kiss from your cheek), you caught your dormmates' wide-eyed stares in the mirror. one mouthed "holy shit" while another gave you a thumbs up.

you were so, so screwed.

. . .

breakfast in the great hall was nothing short of a public execution.

the moment you sat down, ni-ki was there, sliding onto the bench so close his thigh pressed flush against yours, his arm immediately curling around your shoulders like a possessive, overly affectionate scarf. when you reached for the pumpkin juice, his hand shot out, intercepting yours with a delighted gasp.

"let me," he insisted, pouring it for you with the kind of exaggerated care usually reserved for handling ancient, fragile artifacts. 

he even made sure to wipe the rim of the glass with his napkin before handing it to you, his eyes sparkling. "you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, my precious little pumpkin."

you choked on air.

across the table, your brother was already losing it, his spoon clattering into his porridge as he doubled over with laughter. tears were actually streaming down his face. 

"oh, this is too good," he wheezed, slapping the table. "this is the best day of my life."

you kicked him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. "stop encouraging him."

"encourage him?" your brother gasped, wiping his eyes. "merlin’s beard, i’m taking notes!" to your absolute horror, he pulled out an actual notebook and scribbled something down. "'my precious little pumpkin'—that’s gold."

ni-ki, blissfully unaware of your suffering, was now meticulously cutting your toast into heart shapes with the precision of a master chef. 

"you need proper nutrition," he informed you, deadly serious, as if this were a matter of life and death. "how else will you stay as perfect as you are?"

you buried your face in your hands, willing the ground to swallow you whole.

it only got worse. when you tried to take a bite of your eggs, ni-ki intercepted your fork, holding it up to your lips himself. 

"say 'ah,'" he coaxed, grinning when you glared at him. "come on, sweetheart. you’ll waste away if you don’t eat properly."

"i can feed myself," you hissed through gritted teeth.

"but where’s the fun in that?" he pouted, leaning in until his nose brushed your cheek. "let me take care of you. just for today."

you caved, because apparently your willpower had abandoned you the second ni-ki decided to turn your life into a romantic comedy. as you reluctantly took the bite, his entire face lit up like you’d just handed him the moon.

"good?" he asked, thumb brushing the corner of your lip to catch a crumb that wasn’t even there.

you were going to combust.

your brother, the absolute traitor, was now narrating the entire ordeal to jake like it was a quidditch commentary. "and ni-ki goes in for the kill—oh! he’s wiping her mouth! ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing history!"

you threw a piece of toast at his head.

ni-ki, meanwhile, had moved on to rearranging the fruit on your plate into what appeared to be a smiley face. "you didn’t eat enough blueberries yesterday," he informed you, as if he’d been keeping track. "they’re good for your brain. and your eyes. and—"

"my soul?" you deadpanned.

"exactly," he said, completely serious, popping one into your mouth before you could protest.

by the time breakfast was over, half the great hall was watching your personal nightmare unfold with varying degrees of amusement and envy. ni-ki, still glued to your side, was now insisting on carrying your bag for you, despite your protests.

"you’re ridiculous," you muttered as he slung it over his shoulder, his free hand immediately finding yours again.

"ridiculous for you," he corrected, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

your brother fake-gagged behind you.

you were going to murder them both.

classes were somehow worse. in charms, ni-ki kept whispering ridiculous compliments every time the professor turned his back. 

"your eyelashes are like tiny works of art," he sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder. "do they sparkle in the sunlight or is that just magic?"

when you shushed him, he pouted so dramatically that even the professor noticed. "mr. nishimura, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"just that y/n is the most brilliant witch in hogwarts," ni-ki announced proudly, as if this was a perfectly normal answer. "and possibly the universe."

the class erupted into giggles. your face burned so hot you were surprised your hair didn't catch fire.

by lunchtime, you'd developed a new survival strategy: complete and utter surrender. when ni-ki insisted on carrying all your books (stacked precariously in his arms because he refused to use a charm that might "strain their delicate pages"), you stopped protesting. when he fed you bites of his treacle tart ("you need the sugar, my little sugarplum"), you accepted it with minimal grumbling. when he held your hand everywhere you went, his thumb tracing absent circles on your skin, you stopped trying to pull away.

it was easier this way.

(and if part of you secretly thrilled at the warmth of his hand in yours, well, no one needed to know that.)

the common room was warm, the warmth making your eyelids heavy and your thoughts slow. the fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the scattered books and half-finished homework. you were trying to focus on your essay, really trying, but it was hard when ni-ki kept shifting beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally playing with the ends of your hair.

every time you moved, his hand would tighten just a little, like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. when you reached for your pen, he intercepted your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a quiet hum. 

"your hands are cold," he murmured, bringing them to his lips to blow warm air across your skin. the gesture was so tender it made your chest ache.

across the room, your brother and his friends were playing some loud card game, but you could feel their eyes darting over to you every few seconds, their grins barely hidden. you shot them a glare, but it only made them laugh harder.

"are you comfortable?" ni-ki asked suddenly, his free hand brushing a stray hair behind your ear. his touch lingered, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone like he was memorising it. "you seem tense."

you swallowed. "i’m fine."

he frowned, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as he studied your face. then, without warning, he pulled you sideways until your back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

"better?" his breath was warm against your ear, his voice low and sleepy.

"ni-ki—"

"shh," he interrupted, nuzzling into the space between your shoulder and neck. "just relax. i’ve got you."

one hand traced slow circles on your stomach, the other playing with your hair, his fingers moving in a rhythm that made it impossible to think straight.

it was too much. the warmth of him, the way he smelled like fresh laundry and something sweet, the steady beat of his heart against your back—it was all so dangerously comforting. against your better judgement, you felt yourself sinking into him, the tension leaving your shoulders one breath at a time.

until he spoke again.

"you smell amazing," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "like vanilla and... something else. just you." 

his arms tightened slightly. "i could stay like this forever."

a choked noise escaped your throat. the entire common room seemed to be watching now, their conversations forgotten in favour of your humiliation. even the portraits on the walls were leaning in, their painted eyes wide with amusement.

"ni-ki, people are staring," you hissed, trying to squirm away.

he made a soft, wounded sound, his grip tightening. "let them stare," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. then, quieter, just for you: "you’re perfect. why wouldn’t they want to look at you?"

your face burned. "that’s not—"

"i mean it," he continued, undeterred. his chin rested on your shoulder, his voice dreamy. 

"the way your eyes get all squinty when you’re trying not to laugh. how you bite your lip when you’re thinking." his fingers found yours again, lifting them to press a kiss to each knuckle. "the little noises you make when—"

"okay!" you lurched forward, nearly falling off the couch in your haste to escape. "i think i left my—my astronomy book in the library!"

ni-ki’s face fell. "i’ll come with—"

"no!" you stood too fast, your vision swimming. "i mean—you should stay. here. with my brother." you shot your brother a desperate look, but the traitor just grinned and raised his drink in salute.

for a long moment, ni-ki just stared at you, his eyes suspiciously shiny. then his lower lip actually trembled. 

"you don’t want me to come," he said quietly, and it wasn’t a question.

the entire room went silent. even the fire seemed to pause.

you opened your mouth. closed it. the words "it’s not that" died on your tongue when his expression crumpled, like you’d just kicked a puppy.

your brother sighed dramatically. "just take him with you," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "before he starts crying and ruins my winning streak."

ni-ki’s face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. he was on his feet in an instant, gathering your books and pens with single-minded determination. 

"i’ll carry your stuff," he announced, already stacking your papers neatly. "and your sweater. and that water bottle you forgot yesterday. and—"

you buried your face in your hands as the room erupted into laughter. somewhere to your left, someone whispered, "ten bucks says he proposes by friday."

as ni-ki proudly handed you your neatly stacked belongings, beaming like he’d just won the lottery, you came to a terrible realisation:

you were so, so screwed.

the afternoon sun was warm on your skin as you sat on the weathered wooden bench near the greenhouses, your textbook propped open in your lap for the quiz you had in next period—or at least, it had been, before ni-ki decided your lap made for a much better seat. the spell still hadn’t worn off.

once again he was all up in your personal space, sprawled across you now, his long limbs tangled with yours, his arms curled tightly around your waist like he was afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip even slightly. his head was nestled against your shoulder, his soft hair brushing your jaw, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against your collarbone, warm and familiar.

his fingers traced absent, lazy circles on your arm, his touch feather-light but enough to send tiny sparks skittering across your skin. you tried to focus on the page in front of you, really tried, but it was impossible when ni-ki kept nuzzling closer every time you shifted, his lips brushing the curve of your neck in a way that made your pulse stutter. it was ridiculous. embarrassing, even. and yet—despite yourself—you felt your body softening into his, your free hand coming up to card through his hair almost without thinking.

just then, the crunch of footsteps on gravel made you glance up. your brother stood a few feet away, eyebrows nearly in his hairline, a slow grin spreading across his face. 

“wow,” he said, crossing his arms, “you two might as well get a room already.”

ni-ki lifted his head just enough to flash him a cheeky smile, his arms tightening around you. “we tried,” he said, voice dripping with faux innocence, “but she said she had class.”

your brother barked out a laugh so loud it startled a nearby group of first-years, who scurried away like frightened mice. you, on the other hand, felt your entire face ignite. 

“ni-ki,” you hissed, smacking his shoulder, “stop being a weirdo.”

but he only chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating against your chest. before you could scold him further, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just a second too long. “you’re too warm to resist,” he murmured, his breath tickling your ear.

you wanted to protest. wanted to shove him off and tell him to quit messing around, to stop saying things that made your heart do stupid, traitorous flips in your chest. but the words died in your throat when he tilted his head up to look at you, his dark eyes soft and crinkled at the corners, his smile so fond it made your ribs ache.

your brother whistled. “yep, i’m definitely telling mom about this.”

“don’t you dare,” you snapped, but your voice lacked any real heat—especially when ni-ki shifted in your lap, his nose brushing yours, his fingers threading through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“let him,” ni-ki said, grinning. “i’ve got nothing to hide.”

you groaned, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. this was a disaster. you were a disaster. and yet—when ni-ki’s laughter rumbled against you, when his thumb brushed over your knuckles in that stupidly gentle way of his—you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

that same evening you decided to sneak off to the library to finally get some studying done, but ni-ki had caught you in two minutes with a pouty look on his face. so, here you were now—at the library which had always been your sanctuary, a quiet place where you could escape everything—until now. the flickering candlelight made the words in your potions textbook blur together, but you hadn't registered anything in front of you in at least fifteen minutes. not with ni-ki pressed against your back like a second shadow, his chin hooked over your shoulder as he lazily flipped through your notes with one hand while the other traced mindless patterns on your thigh.

"you're skipping the good parts," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, his breath warm against your neck. his finger landed on a passage about amortentia variants. "this is where it gets interesting."

you swallowed hard, forcing your voice steady. "we're supposed to be researching counters, not reading about how love potions work."

ni-ki hummed, nuzzling closer until his lips brushed the sensitive spot behind your ear. "maybe i like knowing how it works," he whispered. "maybe i want to understand why i can't stop thinking about you."

the book nearly slipped from your hands. "that's—that's just the potion talking."

"is it?" he shifted suddenly, turning you to face him with surprising gentleness. the candlelight caught in his dark eyes, making them glow. "then why did i watch you all last term? why did i always find excuses to sit by you in the great hall? why—"

"shh!" you glanced frantically at the librarian, who was glaring from her desk. "you're going to get us kicked out."

ni-ki only grinned, unrepentant, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. "worth it," he breathed. his fingers tangled with yours, squeezing gently. "you're so pretty when you're flustered."

"you're impossible," you muttered, but the protest was weak—especially when he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle with exaggerated care.

"only for you." his thumb brushed over your racing pulse. "your heart's going crazy. is that the potion too?"

you couldn't answer. not when he was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing that mattered. not when his free hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering at your jawline.

the moment stretched, fragile and breathless, until ni-ki suddenly yawned, the spell breaking as he slumped against you with a quiet groan. 

"m'sleepy," he mumbled, his words slurring as he nuzzled into your neck. "your hoodie smells nice. like... like vanilla and that lavender soap you use."

you stiffened. "how do you know what soap i use?"

he didn’t answer, already half-asleep against you, his arms slipping around your waist like living seatbelts. you tried to return to your research, really tried, but how could you focus when every other page was punctuated by ni-ki's soft murmurs of "love you" and "so warm" against your skin? when his fingers would tighten unconsciously whenever you shifted, as if afraid you'd disappear?

frustrated, you turned another page with more force than necessary, your eyes scanning for anything about countering experimental love potions. that's when you saw it—a faded footnote nearly obscured by water damage:

"when the subject already harbours affection for the potion's target, the effects intensify tenfold, blurring the lines between enchantment and genuine feeling. in such cases, the potion acts not as creator, but as catalyst—removing inhibitions and amplifying existing emotions that the brewer may have otherwise concealed."

the words hit you like a bludger to the chest. your hands trembled as memories surfaced—ni-ki always volunteering to be your partner in potions, his laughter a little too bright when you brushed against him. the way he'd show up in the library "by coincidence" whenever you studied alone. how his teasing had always carried an edge of something warmer, something deeper you'd been too afraid to name.

"y/n?" ni-ki's voice was thick with sleep, but his gaze was startlingly clear as he lifted his head. "you okay? your heart's going crazy again." 

"i found something," you whispered.

he leaned in, his nose brushing yours as he peered at the book. too close. always too close. you could count his eyelashes from here, see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. 

"huh," he said after a moment, surprisingly lucid. "so you're telling me i didn't stand a chance?"

"what?"

ni-ki smiled, slow and devastating. "even without the potion," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, "i was already gone for you. this just... made it harder to hide." 

his thumb brushed your lower lip, feather-light. "do you hate that?"

you couldn't breathe. couldn't think. the library, the book, the world outside this moment—none of it mattered. not when ni-ki was looking at you like you were his entire universe. not when his confession hung between you, raw and terrifying and beautiful.

the librarian's sharp cough shattered the moment. "if you two can't keep quiet," she snapped, "i'll have to ask you to leave."

ni-ki didn't even glance her way. his eyes stayed locked on yours, his fingers still tracing nonsense patterns on your wrist. "well?" he whispered, so quiet only you could hear. "do you want me to stop?"

that was the problem. you didn't. not really. not when every touch set your skin on fire, not when his sleepy "i love you"s had started to sound like home.

your silence was answer enough. ni-ki's grin could have powered the castle lamps as he tucked you back against his side, pressing one last kiss to your temple before nuzzling into your hair. "knew it," he murmured triumphantly.

and as you sat there, surrounded by dusty books and the steady rhythm of ni-ki's breathing, you realised with terrifying clarity that you had no idea how you would deal with this once he gets back to his normal self.

because somewhere between his whispered confessions and the way his hands always found yours, your heart had stopped questioning whether his feelings were real—and started wondering when yours had become so painfully obvious.

the next morning, you stirred awake to the unfamiliar weight of someone pressed flush against your back, their arms locked securely around your waist like living chains. for one disoriented second, your sleep-fogged brain couldn't process why your bed felt smaller, warmer—until ni-ki nuzzled into the nape of your neck with a sleepy sigh, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent immediate sparks down your spine.

you stiffened, memories flooding back - last night's study session in the library that had stretched too late, your reluctant agreement to let him walk you to your dorm, and then...oh. then his pleading eyes in the dim torchlight, his fingers playing with yours as he'd whispered, "just five minutes? i'll be good." and like the weak-willed fool you were, you'd caved, cracking the door just enough for him to slip in before anyone noticed.

except apparently "five minutes" had turned into him sneaking under your covers when you'd fallen asleep, his body curled around yours like a second shadow. even now, his knee was wedged between yours, his chest rising and falling against your back in a steady rhythm that suggested he'd been awake for a while, just...holding you.

"morning," ni-ki murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear. you shivered, feeling his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. 

you tried to turn, to protest this ridiculousness, but his arms only tightened, pulling you back flush against him with surprising strength.

 "don't move," he whined, his breath hot against your neck as he scattered kisses along your shoulder. 

his hand slid up from your waist to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "so perfect."

"ni-ki," you started, but the protest died in your throat when his teeth grazed the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting down just enough to make you gasp. he soothed the sting with his tongue, then did it again slightly lower, his free hand slipping under your sleep shirt to splay across your stomach possessively.

"mine," he murmured against your skin between kisses that were quickly turning into something more. 

his lips travelled up the column of your throat, sucking deliberately until you knew without looking he was leaving marks—dark, unmistakable hickeys that would be impossible to hide later. when you squirmed, he pinned you gently but firmly, his thigh sliding more firmly between yours as he continued his devastating path along your collarbone.

"ni-ki, stop—" you gasped, but it came out breathless, unconvincing even to your own ears.

he lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something that made your stomach flip. "make me," he challenged, voice low and rough. when you didn't respond, too busy trying to remember how to breathe, he grinned that stupid, heart-stopping grin before ducking back down to worry another bruise into your skin, this time high enough that no collar would hide it.

"you're terrible," you managed, but your hands had somehow found their way into his hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands as his mouth worked magic on your throat.

ni-ki hummed, the vibration against your skin making you shiver. 

"your terrible," he corrected, punctuating each word with a kiss. he shifted suddenly, rolling you onto your back so he could loom over you, his hands framing your face as he took in the damage—the blooming purple marks scattered across your neck, the flush creeping down your chest.

his expression turned unbearably smug, "pretty."

before you could respond, he was kissing you properly, slow and deep and devastating, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head just how he wanted it. when he finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he pressed his forehead to yours with a quiet sigh.

"how are you even real," he murmured, the ridiculous nickname paired with the way his thumb traced your swollen lips making your stomach swoop. "my perfect, perfect y/n."

you should've pushed him away. should've reminded him this wasn't real, that it was just the potion. but as the morning light painted gold across his features, as his hands moved over you with a reverence that stole your breath, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

. . .

you didn’t hear it from ni-ki.

it was your brother who told you, somewhere between transfiguration and charms, like it was nothing. like it didn’t matter. he was shoving books into his bag, not even looking at you when he said it. 

“potion wore off last night,” he muttered, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

your hands froze around the strap of your bag. 

“ni-ki didn’t say anything?” you asked, your voice too light, too careful. your heart was suddenly pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

your brother just shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “he seemed kind of… weird about it.”

and that was it. no grand moment, no dramatic shift. no lingering looks or whispered explanations. just—over. like none of it had ever happened. like you hadn’t spent a week tangled up in him, learning the shape of his laughter against your skin, the way his hands always found yours like they belonged there. like he hadn’t looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

so you did the only thing you could. you pretended.

the next two days you acted like nothing had changed. like you hadn’t once been his entire world. when you passed him in the corridor, you nodded politely, your face carefully blank. when he held the door open for you, you gave him a stiff smile and nothing more. in charms class, you sat two desks away, your eyes fixed stubbornly on your parchment, even when you felt his gaze lingering on the side of your face. and when his shoulder brushed yours by accident in the crowded hallway, you barely let yourself flinch, barely let yourself remember how those same hands had traced every inch of you like you were something precious.

it was fine. it had to be fine. this was just how things were supposed to be—back to normal, back to before. it was safer this way. less humiliating.

(because what if he remembered everything? what if he remembered the way you’d melted into his touch, what if he knew—)

you swallowed the thought down like acid.

it was just the potion, after all.

except—

except sometimes, when you weren’t paying attention, you’d catch him staring. his expression unreadable, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was stopping himself from reaching out. and once, just once, when you turned a corner too quickly and nearly collided with him, his hands came up instinctively to steady you—just for a second—before he remembered himself and let go like you’d burned him.

you told yourself you imagined the way his breath hitched.

you told yourself a lot of things.

but then the same evening after class you were heading towards the common room, nearly at the fat lady's portrait when you felt it—the familiar prickle at the back of your neck that always meant ni-ki was nearby. you quickened your pace instinctively, but before you could turn the corner, arms wrapped around you from behind in a hold so warm and familiar it made your breath stutter. his chest pressed flush against your back, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he exhaled shakily against your neck.

"why have you been ignoring me?"

his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it, barely above a whisper, but it resonated through you like thunder. your hands hovered uncertainly over his arms where they were locked around your waist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

"i haven't," you lied, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

ni-ki hummed, the vibration travelling through your back and settling somewhere deep in your chest. 

"you have," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear in a way that made your knees weak. "you stopped talking to me. stopped looking at me like..." his voice cracked slightly, "like i matter to you."

you swallowed hard, staring resolutely at the wall ahead. "i just figured... things went back to normal. this is how we were before."

his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around you. "i thought you were embarrassed," he admitted quietly, his breath warm against your neck. 

"when the potion wore off, i didn’t know how to face you. i thought—i thought you hated how i acted. how clingy i was. how much i—" he cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "but then you started avoiding me, and i couldn’t just sit there and do nothing."

your heart pounded so violently you were certain he could feel it. "ni-ki..."

"you do know that i like you, right?" his voice dropped lower, more vulnerable than you'd ever heard it. 

"you know how love potions work. when someone's already..." he hesitated, his grip on you shifting slightly, "when someone's already in love, it makes everything stronger. more intense. everything i did, everything i said to you—i meant all of it."

slowly, so slowly, you turned in his arms. he let you, his hands sliding to your waist to steady you as you faced him properly for the first time in days. his eyes were darker than you remembered, full of something raw and open that made your breath catch.

"so you actually liked me before the potion?" you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet hallway.

ni-ki sighed, one hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face with trembling fingers. 

"i've liked you since third year when you hexed that sunghoon kid for stepping on my broom," he admitted, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. "i just... never thought you'd look at me that way."

your hands found purchase in the front of his robes, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you upright. "so all that time... the cuddling, the stupid nicknames, the way you'd kiss my forehead when you thought i was asleep—"

"things i've wanted to do for years," he interrupted softly, his other hand coming up to cradle your face. his touch was feather-light, reverent, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he pressed too hard. "the potion just... gave me the courage to actually do them."

you could feel his pulse racing where his wrist brushed against your neck, could see the nervous hope shining in his eyes despite the confident set of his jaw. it was this—this vulnerability from someone usually so self-assured—that finally broke you.

ni-ki's breath hitched when you leaned into his touch, his eyes darting between yours. 

"can i kiss you now?" he asked, his voice rough with barely restrained want. "properly? without any potions or excuses?"

your answer was to rise up on your toes and close the distance between you.

his lips were softer than you imagined, moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. one of his hands slid into your hair while the other pulled you flush against him, eliminating what little space remained between you. you could feel the way his breath stuttered when your fingers tangled in his hair, could taste the quiet sigh he let out when you kissed him back with equal fervour.

it was slow and sweet and so devastatingly perfect that you forgot to breathe. ni-ki kissed you like he was memorising you, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment and wanted to savour every second. when you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were kiss-swollen and he was looking at you like you'd hung the moon.

"no more pretending?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

ni-ki grinned, bright and unrestrained, before capturing your lips again in a kiss that left no room for doubt. "never again," he murmured against your mouth, his arms tightening around you.

"i'm done hiding."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[astrakim]

THIS IS SOOO CUTEEE OMGG!!

[astrakim]

Really enjoyed Marked by the Stars!! Any chance of making one for the rest of the members?

ahh thank you so much for enjoying “marked by the stars” 🥺💫 honestly i haven’t really thought about making versions for the other members yet… i don’t have an actual storyline in mind that would make their soulmate bonds feel natural or make sense. but!! i can definitely try to come up with something if people want it 🩷✨

thanks for asking and for caring enough to want more, it really means a lot!! 💖

[astrakim]

I just read the whole of marked by the stars in one night, I am ugly crying.

I think this is one of the most perfectly executed things I’ve ever read - I can’t put my praises into words. You write so delicately and it’s beautiful , I wish I could share this story to the world.

I’m sorry that I’m too shy to comment but I saw you asking for interactions or if anything should be different. But it was perfect🥹 I think that story will stick with me for a long time.

Honestly if you were an actual book author or something I’d be your biggest fan - but somehow I’m lucky enough for your writing to be free and about my comfort idol…

I’m cringing at myself but I had to say all this

- 🦕

oh my god… 🥺😭 this message made me tear up fr. thank you so so much for taking the time to write all of this — i can’t even explain how much it means to me. i always worry if my writing actually connects with people, so seeing this?? it’s everything.

i’m so happy “marked by the stars” could reach you like that, and i promise you’re not cringy at all!! you’re literally the sweetest and i feel so lucky to have readers like you.

also, sorry for answering late!! i still don’t really know tumblr settings that well and sometimes i miss stuff 🥲

thank you for making my day (actually, my whole week tbh). i’ll keep this message close to my heart forever 💚🦖

sending you the biggest hug ever 🫂💫