synopsis → after seeing the possible love of your life at the ice rink, you decide the best course of action would be to sign up for ice skating classes so you can impress him next time you're at the rink. too bad your new teacher just so happens to be him.
pairing → ice skater!sunghoon x fem!reader
genre → ice skating au, college au, strangers to lovers, crack, fluff
featuring → jake, jay & heeseung from enhypen, manon & sophia from katseye, ningning & winter from aespa, nicholas from &team
warnings → cursing, crude humor, kys/kms jokes, mentions of sex, recreational drug usage, illegal activities, don't do anything ningning does in this fic
upload schedule → regularly
note → this is my first ever fic on tumblr, any feedback is much appreciated! the taglist is open
profiles
1. who invited yizhuo to the potluck
2. grown ass man ordering a kids fluffy
3. dumbest idea to have ever idea'ed
4. why are there red and blue lights flashing
5. rare aesthetic: spending christmas eve in county jail
6. someone send jake to rehab right now
7. very unrealistic new year's resolutions
8. something devious is afoot
9. all roads lead back to yizhuo
10. manon and sophia can't read a room
11. just saying shit at this point
12. get this guy behind another wheel
13. will the real manon please stand up?
14. craziest bitch in the world
15. jay the #1 instigator
16. side plot development
17. the epic highs and lows of girlhood
18. worst case of peanutbrain i've ever seen
19. park wonbin aka the most generous man in history
20. you are not helping
21. nicholas and chenle had a great fall
22. yizhuo the #2 instigator
23. i only threw this party 4 u
24. what drinking hella alcohol does to a mfer
25. fitted up in our white gowns
26. what is a sunghoon
27. new side hustle method dropped
28. boys night agenda
more to come…
❛ 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
✭ brushing your thumb over their knuckles while you're both not saying a word, just existing quietly in the same space like it's the most sacred thing.
✭ them absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve because they want to touch you but aren’t ready to say it yet.
✭ “can i kiss you?” whispered like they’re afraid the moment might shatter if they speak too loud.
✭ their voice cracking just a little when they say your name for the first time in a long time.
✭ them resting their forehead against yours and just… staying there. No words. No movement. Just breath. Just nearness.
✭ sharing headphones and they keep looking at you during the best part of the song. you don’t even know what the song means to them but suddenly it means everything to you.
✭ "stay the night?" said so soft it might’ve been a wish.
✭ dragging their fingers gently down your back like they’re trying to memorize the map of your spine.
✭ tracing your features with their fingertip like you're a sculpture in a museum and they were not supposed to touch you, but god, they can’t help it.
✭ “don’t leave yet.” not because you’re going somewhere. but because being with you is the safest they’ve felt all day.
✭ their voice in the dark. low. quiet. like the night is just for you two.
✭ "this reminded me of you" and it’s just a stupid rock or a weird leaf but you hold onto it like it's a diamond because it's you to them.
✭ laying in bed, face smushed into the pillow, sleep-drunk and murmuring, “you make me feel like i’m home.”
✭ them looking at you like you're not just a person, but their favorite story. one they’ve been rereading since forever and still keep finding new parts to fall in love with.
Summary: Bucky is a really serious person in most missions, you, on the other hand, are a really talkative one. somehow Steve decided it was a great idea to put you guys in the same mission.
Word Count: 1.3k
BASED ON PROMPT NO. 6 OF THIS POST, not mine.
N/A: I just really liked this prompt but I don´t know if it is a Drabble or a One-Shot, someone light me up on that, please and thank you very much. Also, I’m not actually pleased with the last result.
GIF AIN’T MINE
Oh, Steve was going to receive a not that careful punch when you guys came back to the compound. Why? Just, what was he thinking?
You and Bucky were like fire and ice, oil and water, but let’s just clarify that he was the one who stood you the least. He was assigned a simple “extraction” mission in some country in Central America, but yet Steve had his suspicions and decided to sent you with him, you were really agile and smart when it came to missions and deep inside Steve wanted to play the Cupid role for once and see if he can make his friends to stand each other and who knows, maybe more.
“Did you knew that Einstein’s brain was stolen when he died?” You whispered while he broke a big old door’s knob to get in the abandoned building.
Summary: Bucky calls you at 4 am because he missed you, and you pick up.
Warnings: Language? Idk.
Word count: 1.6k
A/N: Kinda based on the song “4get” by Voilá. And this is the first English one-shot I’ve ever wrote, so feedback is well accepted in here. Enjoy!
The phone was ringing wildly from the table at the side of the bed; you’d just agreed to yourself to let it ring, it was pretty damn late at night and you got to wake up really early in the morning. At the time the phone ringed, again, you extended your hand, passing it around searching for the goddamn phone, you just wondered who the fuck was calling at that hours; they should know that anything done passed 12 pm was between god and them, not you.
When your hand finally found it you sat, pushing your messy hair out of your face. Your eyes closing when they met with the bright screen of the phone. It took you a couple of seconds and slightly opening your eyes to read the name on the screen, yet it wasn’t a number you had registered.
“Hello?” You answered with confusion and your eyes closed, still sleepy. When your voice got to Bucky’s ears a sad smile posed on her face, his mind imagining you with your messy hair, closed eyes and probably rubbing them with the palm of your hand, trying to wake up a little more, just how you were when he came home from work to the apartment you both shared. “If this is a prank call I’m blocking you” You said when you got no answer, just about to hang up.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, tooth-rotting fluff, light banter, pining, bucky is terrible at flirting and sam makes fun of him for it.
a/n: rewatched that boat scene in tfatws. yep. i need louisiana bucky.
word count: 4.6k
masterlist
synopsis:
Bucky hates working on the boat, but when the Wilsons’ pretty family friend is the one barking the commands, he doesn’t mind it one bit.
The sun was hanging high and heavy over the moist swamp you would call Delacroix. The sign that read “Wilson: Fresh Daily Catch!” was barely hanging on by a single screw, the paint washed out and sun-faded.
Just like everything else on this damn boat Sam had Bucky working on.
“Crap,” Bucky muttered, the wrench slipping out of his flesh hand, slick with sweat.
“Buck, you’re going to strip the bolt if you keep doin’ that,” Sam warned from the other end of the deck, where he was patching up a rusted panel. “And why aren’t you using your metal arm to hold the wrench?”
When the wrench slipped from Bucky’s fingers again and hit the floor with a heavy thud, he let out an agitated grunt and bent to pick it up.
“I’m right-handed,” he mumbled grumpily. “Using the metal arm doesn’t occur to me.”
“Yeah, well, maybe start considering it,” Sam snorted. “It would save me from listening to you cuss every five seconds.”
Bucky squinted at him through the sun. “You invited me to help.”
“And I regret it every day.”
Just as Bucky opened his mouth to fire something back, the sound of footsteps creaked up the dock. Sarah appeared with an open folder in her hands, already skimming through it as she squinted against the light. She flipped through the pages haphazardly, already impatient, and already ready for business.
“Please tell me neither of you have sunk anything today,” she said firmly.
“I haven’t,” Sam replied, sitting down on a crate and taking a sip of his Heineken. “Buck, on the other hand, is about to make this boat sink itself if he keeps screwin’ up.”
“Hah. Hah,” Bucky said flatly, finally getting the bolt tightened. “Very funny, Sam.”
Sarah rolled her eyes but kept going. “We’ve got three deliveries backed up, the supplier still hasn’t confirmed that shrimp order, and the engine on Boat Two is coughing like she’s ready to give out. When you two are finished with the panels here, I’m going to need your help with that engine.”
“You hear that, Buck?” Sam tipped his bottle toward him before taking another swig. “Sounds like a job for you—”
“I’m good.”
Sarah interrupted, sharply flipping to another page. “And we still need to follow up with Cynthia. She hasn’t gotten back to me about her order. Sam, if you could pay her a visit—”
She finally paused when another set of footsteps approached cautiously. You walked up, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder and offering a small smile.
“Hey—sorry to interrupt,” you apologized, because that’s the least you could do before dumping more workload onto the poor girl. “There’s someone here to buy fish, and he said he wants to speak to a Wilson specifically.”
Sarah sighed and closed the folder. “Of course he does.”
She handed it to you, nodding toward the boat. “Can you give these two the rundown?”
“Okay. And what—” you began, because you had absolutely no idea what the rundown actually was.
But Sarah was already speed-walking down the dock, calling out to someone else before you could even finish the sentence. You blinked after her for a second, then slowly turned back to the boat—clueless, with the folder of responsibilities tucked against your chest.
“Good luck trying to get Buck to listen,” Sam said, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe his hands. “Man only hears what he wants—”
“Hi. Uh—hey,” Bucky cut in, stumbling over a small crate to get to you, looking up at you from the deck. “I’m Bucky. Well—James. Technically. But nobody calls me that. Except sometimes. Not usually. Anyway. Hi.”
He flashed a small smile, the tip of his nose a little red. “I’m Bucky.”
Sam could only stare at his best friend in disbelief. His gaze flicked to your face, probably expecting you to be turned off by the painfully awkward introduction—but instead, you tossed your head back and laughed.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” you said, one arm hugging the folder to your chest while the other extended across the dock in greeting. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m a family friend of the Wilsons.”
Bucky cleared his throat and offered his non-vibranium hand—a little hesitant, making sure he wouldn’t crush yours.
“Yeah—that’s great—I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you too, actually.”
You raised a brow and leaned back slightly, giving Sam a skeptical glance. “Is that so? All good things, I hope.”
Bucky’s ears warmed, and he scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with something that might keep you talking to him a moment longer, instead of just thinking about the list of chores ahead.
“Oh—uh, yeah. They, uh… they mentioned having a friend who, um, helped around the docks. But, uh… they never mentioned how… how beautiful you were,” he stumbled over the words, his voice an awkward and hesitant mess.
Sam lifted the towel to pretend he was wiping his face, trying not to burst out laughing right then and there.
How the hell did Bucky come up with that? Neither he nor Sarah had ever mentioned you at all.
Even you knew that. You only came around on the rare occasions when you were available to help. Still, a small, amused smile tugged at your lips at his clumsy attempt at charm, the way he tripped over his own words.
“Thanks,” you said, keeping your tone light through a smile. “You’re quite the charmer. But that doesn’t mean you get your way out of work.” You waved the folder before opening it up.
Bucky’s shoulders slumped as you flipped open the folder, squinting at the cramped notes inside.
“Alright, first things first—we need to get these panels patched, obviously. But after that, Boat Two’s engine isn’t going to fix itself. Then Cynthia’s order needs checking, and—”
You paused, glancing over the top of the folder at the two of them. “And I need someone to help unload the new catch when it arrives. It’s heavy work, so whoever is up for the extra load—”
Sam set his rag down, already pushing himself up with a groan because he knew damn well Bucky wasn’t going to offer—until Bucky’s voice cut in before Sam could utter a word.
“I can do that,” Bucky said quickly. He flashed you a smile, resting his hands confidently on his hips. “And the engine—I can check that, too.”
“Oh,” you smiled, relieved. “Thank you, Bucky. You know, you’re not nearly as bad as Sam makes you out to be.”
“That’s only because Samuel has a personal vendetta against me,” Bucky teased. “You know how he is.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Okay, enough talking. Get to work before Sarah comes back and kicks all three of our asses.” You snapped the folder shut, giving them both a playful, warning look before turning to head back down the dock.
Bucky watched you leave. Sam didn’t miss the way Bucky’s eyes trailed after you, from your legs all the way back up to the back of your head, until you finally disappeared around the corner.
Seizing the opportunity to taunt him, Sam let out a low whistle. “Wow. Look at you. Suddenly Mr. Responsible, volunteering for extra work? You never do that.”
Bucky turned back to the unfinished bolts, keeping his head down as he mumbled underneath his breath, “Shut up.”
Sam’s grin widened. “I’m proud of you, man. Honestly, if all it took was a pretty girl to get you to lighten the load—hell, I should’ve introduced you two a long time ago.”
Bucky picked up the wrench, his thumb tracing the cold, strong alloy steel.
“…Why didn’t you?” he asked quietly.
“She’s a family friend,” Sam explained, picking up the sanding machine. “Known Sarah and me since we were kids. She’s usually buried in her own work—got her hands in three different businesses just to keep things moving. She doesn’t have time to swing by the docks as often as we’d like, but when she does? Man, she’s a lifesaver. My parents loved her for it.”
Bucky kept his eyes on the wrench, his thumb still tracing the metal. He stayed quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, trying to sound casual. “So… is she seeing anyone? Or is she too busy for that, too?”
The silence that followed was brief, but it was all the opening Sam needed. A slow, mischievous smirk spread across his face. He pushed off the boat, the floorboards creaking as he sauntered over to give Bucky a nudge on the shoulder.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Sam barked a laugh. “The Winter Soldier’s heart is thawin’ out, and he’s already got a crush. Man—look at you! Even your ears are turning red.”
“Only because it’s so damn hot outside,” Bucky muttered.
“Yeah, right. Is this why you volunteered for that ‘heavy load’? You want her to see those super-soldier muscles in action.” Sam began to speak even louder, enjoying himself. “Should I go get her? Should I tell her you need a little help with the heavy lifting?”
Bucky looked around warily, checking the dock to make sure you were still out of earshot. “Jesus, Sam. Lower your voice,” he hissed. “She’ll hear you.”
Sam didn’t back down; if anything, Bucky’s panic only fueled the fire. He leaned in closer, speaking in a whisper despite the mischievous grin that never left his face.
“Speaking of her hearing you,” Sam started. “Are those old nineteen-forties flirting skills still defrosting? Because let me tell you, man, they’re looking a little rusty.”
That was when Bucky finally looked up to meet Sam’s eyes. “It was that bad?”
“‘Bad’ would be an understatement,” Sam said, switching on the sanding machine for a brief second before letting it whir down. “You want my advice?”
Bucky went stubbornly silent again, already not liking where this was going.
“Look at you, Buck.” Sam gestured with his hands, vaguely motioning toward Bucky’s physique. “You’ve got the build, and you’ve got that whole ‘bad-boy-with-the-sad-eyes’ thing going on. Girls nowadays eat that up.”
Bucky blinked, his face scrunching as he squinted against the sun. Between the harsh glare and the sheer secondhand embarrassment of Sam’s commentary, his expression could pass for a pained grimace or cringe.
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“And you’ve got the metal arm—” Sam gestured toward Bucky’s left side. “It’s scary, it’s sleek, and it’s sexy. Use it to your advantage. Show her how strong you are. She’ll come flocking to you like a bird.”
“Strength, huh?” Bucky scratched thoughtfully at his chin, letting the silence fill the space before his lips curled into a taunting grin. “Is that why you don’t have any girls flocking to you?”
Sam let out a disbelieving laugh, looking around as if searching for a witness to Bucky’s audacity. “Oh. So that’s how it is? You tryna’ start a fight, Buck?” He took a step towards him, dropping the sander back onto the bench. “Because I’ve got plenty of stories I could tell her that would clear out your already non-existent ‘flock’ real quick.”
Bucky chuckled, straightening up to face Sam head-on. He opened his mouth to fire back, but the sounds of your boots against the wooden dock cut him off. You waved a hand towards the two of them.
“New catch is here!” you called out, leaning over the dock railing. “It’s a big one. I’m gonna need those muscles sooner than I thought—if you’re still up for it, Bucky?”
“Still up!” Bucky called back.
His entire demeanor shifted instantly; his shoulders squared as he scrambled to meet you, nearly stumbling over his own feet and narrowly missing the low cabin ceiling in his haste.
He didn’t even glance at Sam as he vaulted over the side of the hull. Sam, however, wasn’t about to let him leave in peace. As Bucky hit the dock, Sam cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice carrying over the swooshing water.
“Go get ’em, tiger!” Sam hollered, a massive, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
Bucky caught up to you on the dock, clearing his throat and smoothing out his shirt as if he hadn’t just nearly face-planted in the boat. “Just tell me where you want ‘em.”
When the truck doors swung open to reveal the crates of iced fish, the other workers started teaming up, two men to a crate. Bucky, however, curated a different plan. He stepped up to the first stack and, without waiting for a partner, hoisted a massive crate onto his shoulder with his vibranium arm.
Then, he used his right hand to grab the handle of a second crate, carrying it as if it were a light bag of groceries.
“You want these by the processing shed or the coolers?” he asked.
He made sure to stand at just the right angle to catch the afternoon light, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the flex of his forearms—or at least, the effort a normal person would have felt. To him, it was light work, but he was clearly leaning into the role of the heavy lifter after the ‘advice’ Sam gave him.
You furrowed your brows, eyeing him up and down, not because you were impressed, but because you were genuinely worried for his well-being.
“The coolers…” you said gently, “but Bucky, you can take two trips. You’re going to blow out your back.”
Bucky blinked at you, his expression going momentarily blank as he processed your comment.
Was that supposed to be an old-man joke?
He felt a defensive twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly masked it with a light, self-deprecating huff.
“Heh. Yeah. Wouldn’t want the antique model malfunctioning on the job, right?”
He paused, his mind racing through all the times Sam had mocked his age—anything he could flip to make you laugh.
“Don’t worry,” he tried to joke. “The Wakandans implemented an auto-update system on this arm. I’m fully compatible with the twenty-first century. No malfunctions here.”
He waited for a laugh, or at least a smile, but you only blinked in return. A small frown creased your forehead.
“Oh—no, that’s... that’s not what I meant,” you said quickly, your hands lifting in a small, worried gesture. “I just don’t want you to actually hurt yourself. Those crates are heavy for anyone, Bucky.”
You looked at him, then at the crates, and then back at his face—which was sporting a painfully awkward, hopeful smirk. But as the silent seconds ticked by, Bucky’s smile began to twitch, slowly drooping into a disappointed frown as he realized the joke hadn’t landed.
But then a genuine laugh bubbled out of you at the poor sight of him, breaking the tension that had Bucky drowning.
“Well, I hope that arm comes with a warranty in case it breaks,” you teased, your eyes crinkling as you smiled.
Bucky felt the heat in his ears flare up again. Seeing you actually laugh—at him or with him, he didn’t care—made his own expression soften, bringing the smile right back on his face.
“Alright, soldier boy,” you said, reaching out to give his shoulder a quick, playful pat before pointing toward the far end of the dock. “You can bring those crates to the coolers right over there.”
With a twitching smile he couldn’t be bothered to fight, Bucky headed towards the coolers. His shoulders were squared, his stride reeking the confidence he had lacked just seconds before.
He didn’t just set the crates down; he stacked them loudly, occasionally slamming them together with extra force to make sure you heard exactly how hard he was working.
He lifted a third crate, then a fourth, bypassing the other workers who were still struggling with their first loads. Every time he pivoted, he made sure to keep you in his periphery, waiting for that small moment where you would look up from your folder, eyes wide, and realize he was doing the work of an entire crew by himself.
But the look he was waiting for never came.
You were huddled with two of the older fishermen, your brow furrowed in concentration as you flipped through the damp pages of your folder. With a pen tucked behind your ear, you gestured to the truck, far too absorbed in a conversation about weight tallies and fuel costs to even notice him.
“No, Lou. We can’t process the shrimp until the snapper is iced,” you said with a sigh. “I know what Henry said, but we have to listen to Sarah. Sarah’s rules always goes—you know that.”
Bucky held his pose, crate aloft, for much longer than necessary. His vibranium arm gleamed in the sun, but you were already walking towards the back of the truck, pointing out a leak in one of the cooling seals.
“And I need someone to check the refrigeration on the transport!” you shouted over your shoulder.
When you walked back in his direction, Sarah’s folders still clutched to your chest, Bucky puffed his chest out slightly and gave you a small smile.
“Hey.”
You came to a halt right in front of him, glancing up from your paperwork. Bucky’s heart gave a traitorous thud in anticipation; he was certain you were about to comment on the sheer speed of his work or the way he’d handled the load by himself.
“Lookin’ good, Bucky,” you said, offering a bright, appreciative smile. “Thank you for your hard work—really, I mean it.”
Bucky’s smirk deepened. He opened his mouth to deliver a response that was meant to be both humble and charming, but you were already moving on to the next item on Sarah’s checklist.
“And I’m not sure if Sam already took over, but the engine on Boat Two—”
“Needs fixing,” Bucky cut in, sounding a little deflated. “I’ve got it.”
You paused, looking slightly surprised but mostly relieved. “Oh. Perfect. You’re a lifesaver, Bucky. Seriously.”
You gave his arm a quick, distracted pat before heading toward the processing shed, calling out to Lou again without looking back. As Bucky turned to drop the final crate by the cooler, Sam appeared out of nowhere, giving him a firm clap on the back.
“So,” Sam said, resting an elbow atop the towering stack of crates. “You captured her heart yet, or are you settling for ‘Employee of the Month’?”
Bucky let out a sharp exhale as the final crate hit the floor. He straightened up, wiping a stray drop of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Shut up, Sam.”
Sam barked an annoying laugh, trailing behind Bucky as they headed for the pier. “She called you a lifesaver. You’re one step away from her asking you to help her file her taxes.”
“Christ—”
“Go on, get down in that grease. Become her hero,” Sam teased, giving him a playful shove. “I’m gonna go grab us a drink. Try not to short-circuit if she says thank you again.”
With a final, shit-eating grin, Sam walked away, leaving Bucky alone with nothing but the lapping of the tides and the stubborn engine of Boat Two.
Bucky let out a long, weary breath. He rolled his sleeves past his elbows and lowered himself into the cramped space of the engine compartment. It was stiflingly hot, already reeking of diesel and saltwater.
He had been elbow-deep in the motor for a good twenty minutes, his hands coated in a thick layer of black grease. When the dock boards groaned nearby, he didn’t look up, assuming it was Sam returning with the promised drinks.
“Took you long enough,” Bucky grunted, his voice echoing in the small space. “I felt like I was going to pass out.”
A cold, condensation-slicked bottle of Heineken suddenly lowered into his line of sight, hovering just inches from his sweaty nose.
“Well, we wouldn’t want the help passing out on the job, would we?”
Bucky’s heart didn’t just thud—it practically leaped into his throat.
He jerked his head to your voice so fast he felt the sharp corner of the engine casing graze his temple. He let out a muffled grunt, nearly cracking his skull against the underside of the deck as he scrambled to sit up in the cramped space.
He squinted against the bright afternoon sun that framed your silhouette. You were crouching on the edge of the deck, a green glass bottle of your own pressed against your cheek to cool yourself down.
“Easy there, soldier boy,” you laughed, light and teasing. “I didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”
“I—uh. I thought you were Sam,” he stammered, his voice softening as the adrenaline faded into a shy, flustered heat. He looked down at his hands—completely black with grime—and then back at the pristine, cold beer you were holding out to him.
He gently reached for the bottle, careful to not let his grimy hands dirty yours.
“Sam got caught up with Lou,” you said, shifting to sit on the edge of the dock with your feet dangling over the water. “I figured I’d be the one to bring the refreshments, especially since it looked like you needed them.”
“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled.
He took a long, slow draw of the beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. When he lowered the bottle, he caught you watching him with a small, and unreadable smile. He cleared his throat, suddenly very self-conscious over the fact that he was sweaty, oil-streaked, and currently trapped in a hole in the boat’s floor.
“So, uh... did you manage to get Lou and Henry to listen to you?”
“Mostly,” you said, leaning back on your hand.
The movement caught the light, and Bucky’s eyes trailed the line of your neck before he quickly snapped his gaze back to his beer. “I had to threaten to snitch them to Sarah. That usually clears up any confusion about the rules.”
There was a moment of comfortable silence between you two, laced with the faint rhythmic lapping of the water and distant chatter from the other end of the dock. Bucky kept sneaking glances at you while your eyes wandered toward the horizon.
Every time he looked away, your gaze would drift back to him. You were both caught in a quiet dance, staring at each other but never quite making eye contact.
Then, you cleared your throat, grabbing his attention. “Sam and Sarah never actually brought me up, did they?”
Bucky paused mid-sip, his bottle hovering in the air as his face warmed with sudden embarrassment. “I—uh... no. They didn’t,” he admitted softly, looking guilty.
You tossed your head back and let out a laugh—a sound that, to Bucky, was far better than any sound he’d heard in decades.
“No, I figured as much,” you grinned, taking a sip of your Heineken. “But it’s okay. I think I can forgive you for the lie.”
“Well, not all of it was a lie,” Bucky said, his voice going quieter. He looked down, his flesh fingers tracing the cold droplets of condensation on the glass. “I meant the part where I said I thought you were beautiful.”
You felt the heat climb into your cheeks, a sudden bashfulness washing over you that made it even harder to maintain eye contact. You looked down at your bottle, picking at the edge of the label with your thumb while you tried to find your voice.
“Well,” you started, clearing your throat and giving him a playful shrug to cover the fact that your heart was racing. “You’re quite handsome yourself, Bucky.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. He looked up at you for a heartbeat, but the directness of your compliment made him too shy to maintain the gaze. He quickly looked down at his dirty boots, his thumb tracing the rim of his beer bottle.
Another silence filled the space between you, even more tense than the last, yet neither of you got up or moved. Bucky didn’t even try to pretend he was busy with the engine anymore. He sat there, still and attentive, waiting to see if you had anything more to say.
Bucky couldn’t take the silence anymore. “I was wondering—”
“So, do you always—”
You both stopped instantly, startled, before a wave of embarrassed laughter broke over you. Bucky’s face was a deep, impossible shade of crimson by this point, the flush reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He shook his head, looking down at his dirty jeans with a breathless chuckle.
“You first,” he said, his voice warm and rough.
“No, go ahead,” you insisted, your grin widening. “You looked like you had something more important to say.”
Bucky took a bracing breath, his tongue briefly brushing his bottom lip before he met your eyes. “I was just thinking... Sam took me to this seafood place a few miles down the road the other week. It’s quiet, right on the water. And... I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go there with me?”
You raised a brow, voice slightly teasing. “Just us two?”
He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze faltering for a split second as the nerves spiked. “Well—yeah. I mean—if you want to—”
“Like... a date?” you asked, hunching over and leaning in with a smile.
“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed with a firm, decisive nod. There was no backing out now. “Like a date.”
The soft, genuine smile that spread across your face told him everything he needed to know. “I’d love to, Bucky. That sounds perfect.”
Bucky let out a long, ragged breath of relief, the tension finally leaving his shoulders as he realized you had actually said yes. A boyish, triumphant little smile spread across his chin, making him feel younger than he had in years.
“Okay,” he breathed, nodding to himself like he’s confirming it’s real. “It’s a date. Then... how about tomorrow night? I can pick you up?”
“Tomorrow night works for me,” you agreed, your heart doing a little flip at the warm, intense way he was looking at you.
“Hey! I know I didn’t tell you to come out here just to flirt with my brother’s best friend on the dock!” Sarah called out. She was standing at the end of the dock with her hands on her hips. “I need those folders back, and I need help with the invoices before the sun goes down.”
You jumped slightly, letting out a huffy laugh as you stood up and brushed the dust off your shorts. “Duty calls,” you said, giving Bucky a lingering, apologetic look. “I’ll talk to you later?”
“Go on,” Bucky said softly. He was still sitting in the engine pit, but he looked like he was on top of the world. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You gave him one last smile before turning to meet Sarah at the other end of the dock. Bucky watched you go, his chin resting on his hand, completely mesmerized by your retreat. He didn’t even notice Sam leaning over the railing of the dock right above him until he heard a loud, mocking whistle.
“Look at you makin’ moves, lover boy,” Sam teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “Or was it soldier boy she called you? I can’t keep track of your new nicknames anymore.”
Bucky didn’t bother looking up. His eyes only kept longing for you as you talked to Sarah at a distance.
“Shut up, Sam.”
tfatws louisiana bucky... i need you.......... thank you for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you enjoyed!
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So, i was just thinking that i started writing while in my junior year of hs, now, im enterkng my fifth/sixth year of college and all i've thinking about was... should i write again? Would y'all read my fics again?
➜ summary: you just moved into a new building, right across from three loud guys. two said sorry and the third couldn’t care less.
pairing: pshx f!reader,wc: 14k words , genre: enemies to lovers ish, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing
The elevator doors swung open, and soon you stepped out into the third floor hallway. You looked like you were moving in, which in your defense…you were. The oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, arms hugging a stack of takeout containers and a cactus you had that had pricked you far too many times, but that didn’t matter. You were finally on your own.
Unit 3B. That was you now.
Your keys jingled in your palm as you found the door, nudged it open with one knee, and stepped into the apartment you’d stared at for months on rental listings. It wasn’t huge, but it had a little kitchen with enough space for your mum’s rice cooker, and a balcony that caught the sun in the morning. You spun around in the centre of the room, grinning, almost knocking the cactus you had just placed on the counter in the process.
And by nightfall, the place felt like yours. Your fairy lights were strung up across your living room. Your fridge held exactly a bottle of soda, some tuna you had eaten an hour ago and a bag of unwashed grapes. You lit a vanilla candle, the one your best friend, Jungwon, made you promise to use so you'd remember him… even while being so far apart. But Jungwon hated travelling, so in his mind, you'd basically moved to another continent.
Jungwon dramatically declared, “You’re practically moving to another country.”
“Jungwon, I’m literally a two-hour train ride away.”
“That’s basically Europe.”
You rolled your eyes at the memory, smiling to yourself.
Still, you were glad you’d made the decision to move. Three years ahead of you… of being on your own, of learning to be independent, part-time jobs, and what you hoped…a future incoming relationship. It should be easy. It should be peaceful. It should be—
“DUDE!!!”
A scream ripped through your wall.
It came from the wall to your right, a thin wall nudged between you and your neighbours. You could hear celebrations. A voice shouted, “THAT WAS INSANE!” followed by a loud thump like someone had jumped off the sofa.
You tried ignoring it at first, burying yourself under the blanket like it could block out noise. But 20 minutes in, another screamed “HE’S OFFSIDE, YOU DUMB—” loud enough to rattle the walls, you snapped.
You threw on your hoodie, jammed your feet into slippers, and marched out the front door like you were storming a battlefield. The hallway was dim and quiet, except for the muffled party behind door 3C. You knocked, hard, but polite.
The door creaked open mid-laughter, revealing three guys mid-snack, mid-game.
“Hi,” you said, tight smile. “Sorry to bother you, but… would you mind keeping it down a little? I’ve got a test tomorrow and it’s kinda hard to focus with all the screaming.”
The one with fluffy hair, cute little eyes, nodded immediately. “Shit. Sorry, sorry. Totally our bad.”
Another one, long lashes and a goofy smile, actually winced. “Didn’t realise it was that loud. We’ll keep it down, promise.”
“Are you new here?” the first one asked.
You nodded. “I just moved in today, actually.”
“Oh shit. Mrs Kim moved out?”
“Damn, we’re not getting her kimchi anymore, that’s for sure.”
“We gotta eat those store-bought ones that taste like ass.”
The second boy looked at you again, more focused this time. “Oh right! I’m Jake! It’s great to meet you! I’m sorry it happened under… unfortunate circumstances. But we’ll be quieter!”
“I’m Jay, by the way,” the first one added with a small grin, pushing his hair back.
You nodded, smiling slightly. At least they were nice about it. Well, two out of three, anyway.
You glanced past both of them, eyes landing on the third boy slouched on the couch, still holding the controller, gaze fixed on the paused screen like you weren’t even there. His jaw clenched once. No name. No hello. Just a subtle, annoyed glance in your direction before he looked away again.
Cool. So he hates you. That’s cool with you.
The third guy didn’t say anything. Just glanced at you once, then turned back toward the TV.
“Uh, thanks,” you said, lips tight, already backing away.
You returned to your apartment and for a blessed thirty minutes, it was quiet.
Then someone scored a goal and the wall shook again.
You blinked slowly at your ceiling, arms folded under your head like the weight of your patience was finally starting to crush your ribs. Okay. So that’s how it was going to be. You frowned.
And that was literally… how war started.
The next morning, fuelled by petty vengeance and two hours of sleep, you grabbed your pastel pink sticky notes and wrote:
“Dear 3C, I’ve played FIFA before. It is not that damn fun for you to be out here screaming. Please tone it down. Regards, the zombie in 3B.”
You slapped it on their door. Nothing changed.
And the next day:
“Dear 3C, I can’t sleep. Kindly shut up <3 With love, the girl one more sleepless night away from writing to the landlord. 3B.”
You half expected them to ignore it. Instead, you found your note missing by mid-afternoon. Gone.
For a moment, you felt powerful. Maybe they’d actually listened.
Then 8:43 p.m. hit and someone in 3C scored a goal so loud you swore the bass from their TV made your candle flicker.
Alright. So it was personal now.
You stormed over to their door again, hands on your hips.. It wasn’t that late. You weren’t unreasonable. You believed in joy. In freedom. But right now? Rage was the only thing pumping through your system.
You shuffled down the hall with your bunny slippers slapping against the floor, hair in a claw clip that was giving up. You looked deranged. And for the first time, you were fine with that. You banged on their door.
The door cracked open a second later, revealing Jake blinking like a deer in headlights. His hair was messy. He looked mildly afraid.
“Were… we being loud again?”
You stared at him, deadpan. “Ya think?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. I’m so sorry. It’s Sunghoon. He keeps saying it’s not that loud and we were mid-tournament and—”
“Tell Sunghoon that his ego’s not the only thing echoing through these walls,” you snapped, arms crossed. “Some of us are trying to study.”
Behind Jake, you heard a familiar scoff followed by a smug voice yelling, “God, she’s so annoying. We were literally whispering.”
You leaned to the side, locking eyes with the third boy slouched on the couch, controller in hand, feet on the coffee table like the world owed him something. He didn’t even pause the game this time.
You didn’t know what it was about his stupidly symmetrical face but your blood boiled.
“Tell this Sunghoon guy…his whispering sounds like a screeching cat,” you said flatly, before spinning on your heel and marching back toward your door when you heard his aggravating voice.
“Tell her she’s overreacting over a couple of friends simply trying to have fun,” Sunghoon fired back from the couch, not even raising his voice.
You turned your head just enough to glare over your shoulder. “Well, tell him, his shirt doesn’t match his fucking pants.”
Jake looked helpless, standing between you both like a middle child caught in a divorce.
And then, with that same bored tone, Sunghoon called out again, “Well, tell her… those slippers are the best thing she’s worn all week.”
You stopped.
Jake sucked in a breath.
You slowly turned, eyes narrowing. “Tell him he wouldn’t know good fashion if it came with a user manual and punched him in his freaking face.”
Sunghoon finally glanced away from the TV, meeting your eyes for the first time that night. His lips curved into the most irritating half-smile you’d ever seen.
“Tell her–”
Jake stepped in between again, hands raised. “Okay! Okay. We’re gonna turn the volume down. Like, way down. Like you can’t even hear us tiptoe. Right, Sunghoon?”
Sunghoon leaned back against the couch and shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not the one annoying my neighbors at 9pm on a Friday night. Get some friends.”
You slammed your door shut.
War was back on.
-
The next morning, your plan was simple. A little petty, sure, but necessary.
You stood outside their door in your pyjamas, holding a fresh pack of neon yellow Post-its since your previous ones were used up by the ongoing Post-It war.The hallway was empty. Your bunny slippers made no sound as you padded up to 3C and stuck the first one of the week dead-centre on the door.
“Dear 3C, just a gentle reminder that FIFA will not feed you, clothe you, or give you money. Kindly shut up. PLEASE. Warmest regards, 3B.”
You smiled to yourself and floated back to your apartment.
That night? For the first time…? Silence. Beautiful, blissful silence. You actually managed to revise two chapters and fall asleep before midnight. You woke up in the morning feeling like a changed woman.
But then you opened your front door.
There, taped neatly to your door, was a blue sticky note with surprisingly neat handwriting.
“Dear 3B, you sound like you narrate your life out loud. – 3C.”
Your jaw dropped.
“Narrate your life out loud?” you muttered. “That’s literally called thinking.”
You marched back into your apartment, flung open your stationery drawer.
“Dear 3C, apologies if my internal monologue disrupted your daily FIFA championship. I only talk to myself because your volume settings make it impossible to hear my own thoughts. With all due respect (and ear damage), 3B."
That afternoon, Jay knocked on your door. You hesitated, then opened it a crack. He was holding a bag of convenience store pancakes in one hand.
“Peace offering,” he said. “Also, I think your notes are hilarious. Jake’s been collecting them. I think he’s making a scrapbook.”
You blinked. “Is this a joke or something?”
Jay shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No! Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing.”
Jake popped his head in from behind, grinning. “Also, your handwriting’s really neat.”
You opened the door a little wider, cautious then shrugged. “You want some… uh… spaghetti? I made it this morning.”
“Spaghetti?” Jay tilted his head.
You nodded. “Yeah. I usually experiment with food. I’m…uh…in culinary school.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you’re like… a chef?”
“Trying to be.,” you said with a shrug, suddenly a little self-conscious.
They exchanged a quick look before barging in like you'd personally handed them invites at the door.
“That’s so cool,” Jake said, practically bouncing as he flopped onto your beanbag. “I burnt instant noodles last week. Twice.”
Jay wandered deeper into your living room, his gaze landing on the dusty old guitar leaning against your bookshelf. “Dude, check it out! She plays the guitar.”
You rubbed the back of your neck, awkward. “It’s just for fun. I’m not that good.”
“I’m sure you’re great,” Jake said, already chewing through a mouthful of spaghetti he’d somehow found, and served himself in a bowl you didn’t remember offering.
You blinked at him. “Did you just—?”
“Plate was right there,” he said through a mouthful. “I took it as a sign.”
Jay nodded solemnly. “She feeds us and plays guitar. She’s better than Mrs. Kim already.”
You sighed and closed the door behind them. “I’m starting to think Mrs. Kim left because of the three of you.”
In between bites, Jake nodded without hesitation. “I think so too.”
“We can be loud,” Jay added, helping himself to another serving.
“Have you thought of… not being loud?”
“We do,” Jay said. “But then we get loud again.”
You rolled your eyes. “Guys, some of us have school and—”
“We have school too,” Jake chimed in, mouth full.
“Okay… some of us care about sleep.”
Jay perked up. “That’s why we got you this.”
He dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny box, dropping it into your hands.
You squinted at it. “What’s this?”
“They’re sleep buds,” he said proudly. “They go in your ears and play white noise and, like… ocean sounds or something. Blocks everything out. Even us.”
You stared at the box, then at them.
“Instead of compromising, you got me gear?”
Jake grinned. “Yeah. We like you. We want you to be able to sleep… through us.”
Jay gave you a thumbs-up. “It’s called adaptation.”
You looked down at the sleep buds in your hands and then back up at the two of them absolutely inhaling your spaghetti like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
You didn’t know whether to kick them out or thank them.
So you just sighed, defeated. “You guys are the weirdest neighbours I’ve ever had.”
Jake beamed. “Aww. You’re the weirdest too.”
And somehow… the next day… they were back.
You opened the door mid-knock, confused, only to find Jay grinning at you.
“What’s for lunch today, boss?” he asked, already halfway through the doorway.
You blinked. “How’d you know I made something?”
“We could smell it,” Jake said, stepping in right behind him, holding up a comically large spoon. “Smells so good. Brought my big spoon today. Came prepared.”
“Uh… I made chowder?”
Jake’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love chowder.”
Jay had already plopped onto the floor cushion, flipping through your Spotify like he owned your iPad. “What kind? Clam? Corn? Pumpkin? Wait… do people put pumpkin in chowder?”
You stared at them, ladle in hand.
“Corn,” you muttered, shuffling back into the kitchen.
Then the day after that… they came again. At this point, it felt less like a surprise and more like a recurring appointment.
“No fucking way. Kimchi stew? This shit is so good!. Jay, you need to try the beef. It’s so soft. How— how’d you get it so soft? Is this like one of those expensive beef? Wakoo?”
“It’s Wagyu, Jake.” You corrected.
“Wagyu~” He sang.
Jay, already mid-bite, nodded with a full mouth. “Can I havefth thefth reshepee?”
You wiped your hands on a dish towel, leaning against the counter with one brow raised. “Do you guys ever eat in your own apartment?”
Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Not when you cook like this.”
Jay pointed his chopsticks at you like he was making a closing argument in court. “This is technically your fault. You fed us once. That’s basically a binding contract. We’re best friends now. Aren’t we, Jake?”
Jake nodded, mouth full. “Mhmff. Whatever he said.”
You sighed, setting your elbow on the table and dropping your chin into your hand. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least wash the dishes after.”
Jake saluted you with his spoon like you were the captain of a very tiny, soup-based army. “Yes, chef.”
You looked at the two of them, one already on his third helping, the other stealing more beef straight from the pot, and shook your head.
This wasn’t how your independent, put-together, college life was supposed to go. You were meant to be focused. The mysterious girl on the third floor who only ever came out for groceries and exams.
But maybe… with the two of them barging in uninvited, eating like they hadn’t seen food in years, and treating your living room like it was theirs…
Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.
-
It was 9 p.m. Strangely quiet.
Usually, by now, there’d be at least one goal celebration shaking the walls or someone shouting about a missed penalty. But tonight? Nothing. You didn’t let it bother you. You took it as a win.
The balcony door slid open with a soft scrape. You stepped out into the cool night, cradling your little scissors and spray bottle like sacred tools. Your succulents were arranged in a neat line. A few leaves had started to curl. You knelt down, snipping the dead ends carefully.
You should’ve felt peaceful.
But tonight, something tugged at your chest.
You missed Jungwon. You missed your mom’s mismatched cutlery and the way your dad always forgot he’d already asked about your grades. Maybe even your pet fish, the one that never did much except float around looking confused.
Jay and Jake were friendly, sure. But they weren’t yours. They weren’t part of your before. They didn’t know the town you came from or the versions of you that existed before now.
And even though you thought you’d settled in... even though you were coping...you were lonely.
Without meaning to, you started speaking out loud — just like you always did.
“It’s fine. You’ll do better tomorrow. Tomorrow you won’t feel as lonely,” you said softly as you misted the leaves. “You’ll be stronger. You’re gonna get used to this. You can do it.”
But the lie caught in your throat.
Because you were crying already.
You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, frustrated, betrayed by your own body. You reached for your phone without thinking and hit the contact you swore you wouldn’t keep calling every time you got overwhelmed.
Jungwon answered on the first ring.
“What’s up?” he asked, casual as ever.
“Won…” you breathed out.
There was a pause. Then: “Are you crying?”
“No?”
“I can hear you sniffling, you shit.”
“It’s just—” your voice cracked. “It’s hard. I’m alone all the time. I’ve got no friends. I’ve got no one to talk to. I’m alone, Won.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I know…”
There was a pause. You could hear him shifting in bed, his voice soft and serious now. “But think about it this way, okay? You’re barely in your first month. You’re gonna get used to it. You’re gonna find people. You’re gonna build something here. It just takes time.”
You bit your lip. “You’ll visit if you can, right?”
“I’ll visit,” he promised. “Even if it takes two bloody hours.”
“But you hate traveling.”
“For you, I’d suffer.”
You sniffled. “You’re just saying that so I’ll hang up.”
“You’re right because I’m exhausted from basketball. But also… I love you.”
“Fine,” you mumbled. “I love you too.”
“Chin up. You’re talented and you deserve to be there. You can do this. We’re all counting on you.”
“I know.” You exhaled slowly. “Goodnight, Wonnie.”
“Night.”
You ended the call and sat in silence for a moment, letting the cool night air settle on your skin. The tears had stopped. Your hands still smelled like mint and basil and the faint sweetness of the spray bottle. You stared at your succulents, wondering if they ever got lonely too.
Unbeknownst to you, just a few feet away, out on the connected balcony, hidden by the divider, someone had heard everything.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d stepped out earlier, just needing air, needing quiet, needing to be somewhere still for once. And then he’d heard your voice. The words that were not meant for anyone else.
And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment.
He just stood there in the dark, one hand gripping the railing, heart a little heavier than before.
He understood more than you thought.
And somewhere between your tears and Jungwon’s voice, he changed his mind about you.
-
The next few days, there was absolute silence. Maybe the food had finally worked some psychological warfare on Jay and Jake. Maybe it was their way of returning the favour. Either way, you weren’t about to question it.
You were grateful, to say the least.
Because for the past week, you’d been moping around your apartment. Living alone and striking out as an “independent bachelorette” sounded empowering in theory, but in practice? Maybe you weren’t one of those girlies after all…y’know the ones on Instagram who made solitude look like a season of self-discovery instead of a series of breakdowns.
It was Saturday. You’d spent the entire morning in bed watching a Netflix documentary about some guy swindling people on Tinder, surrounded by crumpled tissue and scented candle smoke that had long turned suffocating. You were still in yesterday’s hoodie, blanket tangled around your legs.
Three knocks echoed at the door.
You lifted your head from the pillow with a groan, barely alive. The sound came again.
Dragging yourself across the living room, you cracked the door open just a sliver, just wide enough to peek through but not enough to reveal the disaster that was your face, your hair, or your pride.
“Uh.” The voice was hesitant. Familiar.
You squinted.
Sunghoon.
You blinked. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying and a full night of narrating your own spiral.
“There was a mix-up with the mail,” he said, holding up a small stack of envelopes.
“Oh.” You extended your arm awkwardly through the tiny gap in the door and grabbed the letters. “Thanks.”
There was a pause, “I can see your puffy eyes through the gap.”
You scoffed, immediately pulling the door closer. “You just have to be a smartass about everything, don’t you?”
He shrugged, completely unbothered, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Still standing there.
“…Are Jake and Jay home?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
His expression twitched, almost amused. “Why? Trying to steal my best friends again or—”
“No,” you deadpanned. “I was just wondering. It’s been… quiet this whole week.”
“They went home to visit their families.”
Oh. Right. Come to think of it, maybe that explained why everything felt extra heavy lately. It was the time of year people usually went home. People surrounded themselves with comfort and familiarity. And here you were, stuck in the city because the train ticket home was just slightly out of budget.
“You didn’t go?” you asked softly.
“Can’t,” he shrugged.
“Oh.”
There was a beat of silence. Then he tilted his head.
“Well,” Sunghoon said slowly, “if you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”
The words came with the usual venom but the message behind them landed differently.
You stared at him through the gap in the door. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny, or… sincere, in his own weird, backhanded way. It was strange. You’d only had three full conversations with the guy. And every single one ended in a WWE tournament.
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Are you… being nice to me?”
He clicked his tongue. “Don’t ruin it.”
And with that, he turned and walked back.
-
You finally got up.
There was no movie-worthy breakthrough moment. Just the dull ache in your head from crying too much and the feeling that if you shed one more tear, your eyeballs might actually eject themselves from their sockets. So you moved. You stripped your bed, tossed the mountain of tissues into a trash bag, sprayed half a bottle of disinfectant in the air, and opened every window.
Your apartment looked like it had survived an apocalypse, which, to be fair, was accurate. But you scrubbed it back to life.
By the time you were in the kitchen, your eyes were still a little swollen, but you’d pressed them with cool spoons and a sad little compress until you could see straight again. Kind of.
You pulled out ingredients from your fridge one by one, lining them up like you were preparing for war. Slicing, boiling, julienning, stir-frying. The sound of the pan crackling beneath the glass noodles filled the silence of your apartment. It smelled exactly like it did when your mom used to make it.
You plated it in a wide, shallow bowl. It was delicious. Of course it was. You took pride in it. You always had. Jungwon used to tease you, calling your hands “blessed by Gordon Ramsay” like everything you touched turned into comfort food. You’d swat his arm, trying not to smile as he reached for second helpings before you’d even sat down.
You missed him. You missed your family. You missed not having to eat alone on a day like this.
Your eyes drifted to the door.
Would it be stupid? To bring food to Sunghoon? You’d never really done anything kind for him. Most of your interactions were lined with sarcasm and insults. And yet… that one line of his kept replaying in your head, “If you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”
So maybe…maybe he meant it. Or maybe you were just desperate for company and your noodles were starting to get cold.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you packed the noodles into a clean container, wrapped a rubber band around it, and found yourself standing in front of 3C. Your feet had walked you here without permission. Your hand hovered in the air, ready to knock, but now… you hesitated. You weren’t here to complain. You weren’t here to yell. And that made it harder.
And just before your knuckles could land on the door, it swung open.
Sunghoon stood in front of you, coat already on, scarf looped lazily around his neck. There was a little shine to his hair like he’d styled it, and he looked surprised, mildly confused to find you on his doorstep without any anger evident in your eyes.
“What?” he said, voice dry.
You blinked, staring at him. You’d never really looked at him properly before. Not when he was this put-together. The gel in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his scarf sat slightly off-center like he’d thrown it on in a rush. You knew he was attractive. You weren’t blind. But seeing him now?
Sunghoon was actually… pretty handsome.
“I—uh—” you stammered.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Spit it out.”
“I—uh—I made some… stir-fried glass noodles,” you said, stumbling over every syllable. “And I know how much it sucks being alone on a day like this, so I thought… maybe it’d bring you some kind of familiarity. From home, or something.”
You didn’t let yourself overthink it. You shoved the container into his hands, heart pounding.
“Bye,” you mumbled, before immediately turning around and marching back to your apartment like you’d just robbed a bank. The door clicked shut behind you.
You pressed your back to it, eyes wide.
Shit.
Was Sunghoon actually hot?
-
Sunghoon stood in the hallway, unmoving. The container in his hands was warm and he stared down at it for a couple of seconds longer than he probably should’ve.
Jake and Jay had been raving about your cooking for weeks. At first, he thought they were exaggerating. How good could someone’s food be that it made two of the loudest people he knew voluntarily whisper through a FIFA match?
But he’d seen it with his own eyes, Jake silently fist-pumping the air, mouthing “LET’S FUCKING GO” after a goal, and Jay barely reacting as he scored. They even created a rule: first one to speak puts a dollar in the Silence Jar. A literal jar. With money.
Sunghoon didn’t get it.
And he didn’t particularly care to. Not then.
But now, standing in the hallway in his coat and scarf, staring at the gift you shoved into his hands with flushed cheeks, something felt different.
He had been on his way out, actually. There was a bar nearby, nothing special, just a dim-lit spot with quiet music and decent food where no one bothered him. He usually went there whenever Jay and Jake went back home, like they did this time every year. It wasn’t that he didn’t have family—he did. It just wasn’t… warm. They were always busy. Always somewhere else, even when they were in the same room.
He peeled off his scarf, feet dragging a little as he headed back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. He set the container on the kitchen counter, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, and opened the lid.
Steam wafted up instantly, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, something subtly sweet he couldn’t name. The noodles glistened. They looked homemade. No, they felt homemade.
He picked up a strand and gave it a tentative taste.
His eyes widened before he could even help it.
It was good. Like stupid good. Like how the hell is this girl not running her own restaurant kind of good. Better than anything he would’ve paid for at that bar tonight.
He stood there in silence, chopsticks hovering mid-air, thinking back.
He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated you. Three encounters, three arguments. He remembered each one too clearly. The snark in his voice. The way your expression hardened. The notes on the door.
But it wasn’t really about you.
He hated being called out. Hated being the problem. Maybe it was ego, or maybe it was the way he’d always felt like he had to be put-together or to say the least…controlled. Your presence threw him off. You were loud in a way that was sincere. You didn’t filter your emotions. You wore your annoyance on your sleeve and your feelings on your face.
It irritated him. It also… made him feel something.
And then there was that night on the balcony.
He hadn’t meant to listen. But when he heard your voice cracking through the divider, talking to someone…maybe it was your boyfriend? Your best friend? Whoever it was about how lonely you were, it hit him harder than it should’ve.
Because he got it.
He felt it too.
Being alone in a crowd. Having people around but never really with you. That weight in your chest that didn’t come from sadness exactly…just the absence of warmth.
Sunghoon felt it more often than he cared to admit. He loved Jake and Jay, loved them to pieces. They were the kind of people who filled a room with noise and an energy he couldn’t really place and who made him laugh even when he didn’t want to.
He wanted something more. Something real.
Someone who just… saw him.
He sat at his kitchen counter, staring at the container of glass noodles still warm with steam curling from the lid. He wasn’t usually impulsive. He didn’t do gestures. But maybe tonight called for something a little uncharacteristic.
He stood and reached up, opening the top cupboard where Jake and Jay kept what they called their “emergency date plates.”. The kind of plates you used to impress someone. They only ever brought them out when trying to convince girls they were not, in fact, living in a borderline condemned apartment flat.
He grabbed two.
And then, before he could second guess it, he walked out into the hallway and knocked.
Your door creaked open a few seconds later.
You blinked at him, confused. “What?”
It almost felt like deja vu. Except now, he was you…awkward at the door.
And then it hit him.
He looked at you…like, really looked at you, and for the first time, he realised he’d never actually seen you before.
You were wearing a soft pink sleeveless dress, the fabric loose and falling just above your knees, cinched slightly at the waist. Your hair was tied into a side braid, fringe swept slightly to the side, with a few delicate strands left loose to frame your face. You looked like you belonged in a pastel painting.
Shit.
Were you actually—pretty?
Nope. Nope. Stop that. Sunghoon blinked hard, trying to erase the thought.
Damn it.
You probably had a boyfriend. Someone smart and warm and emotionally available who FaceTimed you every night and wrote you good morning texts. Someone who missed you from back home.
And besides…someone who could cook like you? You could probably bag Jake and Jay at the same time in under a minute if you wanted. Not that you would. But still.
He cleared his throat.
“I, uh…” He held up the plates slightly. “I thought maybe… you could join me?”
He wasn’t good at this. But his voice was steady.
“Only if you want to,” he added, quickly. “I just figured. Y’know. Glass noodles taste better on… plates that aren’t plastic.”
His eyes met yours.
He was trying.
And this time, it was your turn to blink in disbelief.
-
Sunghoon had returned with the container of glass noodles, now a little colder, a little stickier, but still giving off the faint aroma of sesame oil and soy sauce. You’d reheated it and plated it up, slightly embarrassed that the presentation wasn’t what it had been fresh off the stove, but he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he did, but you couldn’t tell, because for the first five minutes, you didn’t look at each other.
The clink of chopsticks, the occasional scrape of ceramic, and your ceiling fan. It was awkward. You wondered why he even came. Why he asked in the first place, if he was just going to eat in silence.
“So,” you said.
“So,” he said.
You paused.
“You first.”
“No, you—”
“Okay, I’ll go first,” he said, cutting himself off. He cleared his throat and set his chopsticks down. “I—uh—I just wanted to say thanks. For the meal.”
You blinked. “Okay.” You nodded slowly. “You’re… shockingly formal when you’re not pissed.”
“I—” Sunghoon let out a breath and leaned back a little in the chair. “I was never pissed.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”
“I was annoyed, sure. Who likes being called out?”
“I wasn’t trying to call you out,” you said, tilting your head. “But put yourself in my shoes. I have to wake up at stupid o’clock to learn how to make a soufflé or whatever, and meanwhile, I’m treated to surround sound yelling and the occasional ceiling vibration.”
He gave a small shrug. “Well, we haven’t done it in a while.”
“And I’m grateful,” you replied, lips twitching. “Truly.”
“We got a silence jar and everything,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t want to admit it.
Your eyebrows shot up. “A silence jar?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Jay implemented it. He said if we keep it up, we’ll have enough for extra toppings on our next pizza night.”
You burst into laughter, the sound surprising even yourself. It came out light and real, and you covered your mouth halfway through. “That’s… honestly? A decent plan.”
“It can be,” he said with a grin starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Until everyone starts trying to play FIFA like it’s an ASMR video.”
“You guys actually whisper?” you asked, incredulous.
“Well, yeah. You told us to.”
“I didn’t think you would listen,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him.
Sunghoon shrugged again, his eyes dropping to the plate in front of him. “Well… they changed my mind, so.”
He didn’t say what he was really thinking.
That it wasn’t Jake or Jay who changed his mind. It was that night. The way your voice had carried through the gap in the balcony, fragile and cracking. The way you’d said I’m alone, Won like it was something that had been sitting inside you for too long, waiting to spill. He’d realised then maybe he wasn’t just an annoying neighbour to you. Maybe he was part of the problem. Maybe he’d been making things harder for someone who was already trying to hold it all together.
“So…” he said quietly, eyes on his plate, “why are you alone during the holidays anyway?”
“Couldn’t afford a train ticket,” you said eventually. “I mean—I could have, technically. But that’d mean I wouldn’t have enough money left to buy ingredients for my assignments the next few weeks.”
Sunghoon winced. “Oof. That’s rough. Must suck.”
You gave a little shrug. “Yeah. It’s fine though.”
He knew it wasn’t.
There was a pause. He glanced sideways at you.
“If you ever… feel like you need someone to talk to,” he started, voice casual, “you could just knock. I have FIFA.”
You snorted. “Oh, like I’d willingly join that mess.”
“It’s actually really fun.”
“How fun can flinging a ball across a screen with your thumbs be?”
“It is!” he defended, turning fully toward you.
You raised a brow. “I tried once with my friend and it was so boring.”
“That’s ‘cause you weren’t playing it right,” he insisted, already standing up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
“I’m not playing FIFA with you.”
“Come onnn,” he whined, grabbing your wrist and tugging you lightly toward his door.
“God, this is gonna be so stupid,” you muttered, dragging your feet even as you followed him out.
Inside his apartment, the lights were warm, the couch sunken in like it had been through a war. You sat reluctantly, tucking your knees up as he handed you the controller.
“Alright,” he said, sliding in beside you. “This is you—Team Two. All you have to do is use the left joystick to move, the right one to look around. This button to pass, this one to shoot.”
You blinked. “So many buttons.”
“It’s easy! Just follow what I say.”
“Okay… so now I just—?” You pressed a button and immediately kicked the ball out of bounds.
“No, no—move left. Left.”
“I am moving left!”
He glanced over. Your tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, eyes squinted, brows furrowed. He chuckled before he could stop himself, quickly looking away.
Then you screamed, “I DID IT! DID I DO IT?!”
He turned back just in time to see you score.
Sunghoon yelled, jumping up. “Yeah! That was it!”
You stared at the screen, jaw dropping. “Holy shit. I’m amazing.”
He looked at you again, this time longer. Your eyes were glowing, still locked on the TV. Your fingers tapped at the buttons like you already got it down. You bit your lip when you were focused, tongue sticking out just slightly when you were thinking.
And you were cute. So fucking cute.
The match picked up pace. Suddenly it was 2–2, and both of you were leaning in like your lives depended on it. You were yelling at the controller. He was shouting advice. At one point, your knees knocked, but neither of you noticed. The room was loud, just your voices and the music from the game and the way your laughter filled every corner of his flat.
Then it happened.
You scored.
You screamed, controller tossed onto the couch, and before Sunghoon could register what was happening, your arms were around his neck, squeezing him tight as you jumped slightly in place.
“I WON! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”
He froze. Your cheek brushed his jaw, your warmth right up against him. His hands hovered midair like he didn’t know whether to hold you back or not.
And then you let go, plopped back onto the couch, and grabbed the controller again like nothing had happened.
Sunghoon didn’t move.
For the first time in what felt like forever, his heartbeat stuttered. Sped up like it had been woken from a long, indifferent sleep.
He sat there, silent, staring at you as you shouted at your pixelated team.
And all he could think was well that…he hadn’t planned on crushing on the new girl based on one single positive interaction.
God, he was so screwed.
-
The next few days passed in a blur of almost-conversations.
You and Sunghoon didn’t talk much. Not like that night. Just a few polite waves across the hallway, a quiet “hey” if you caught the elevator at the same time. Respectful nods. The occasional awkward glance if your eyes met for too long.
And then Jake and Jay came back.
And of course, Jake being Jake, invited himself into your apartment before you could even say no.
“I missed your cooking while I was gone,” he sighed dramatically, sinking into the dining chair like he’d returned from war.
“Well, today’s your lucky day,” you said, flipping through your assignment folder and squinting at the week’s task. “Because for today’s assignment, I’m supposed to…” you paused. “Make a really mean chicken pot pie.”
Jake’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands, nearly tipping his chair over. “CHICKEN POT PIE?!”
Before you could even blink, he leapt up, yanked your door open, and sprinted into the hallway.
“JAY! IT’S CHICKEN POT PIE!” he yelled like it was a fire drill.
From across the hall, Jay’s voice rang out. “WHAT?! NO WAY!”
And then—another voice joined them.
A quieter one.
“Chicken pot pie?”
You didn’t even have time to react before you were suddenly hosting three grown men in your kitchen, all leaning over your counter.
“Guys,” you said, elbow-deep in flour. “I can’t focus if you’re all staring at me like that.”
“We’re just excited,” Jake grinned, chin in his hands.
“Well don’t be. I’ve never made this before. It might taste like ass.”
“Your hands are basically blessed by Gordon Ramsay,” Jay declared, grabbing a slice of carrot from the cutting board. “It’s impossible for it to taste like ass.”
You laughed, the sound soft and unexpected even to yourself. “Jungwon used to tell me that all the time.”
“Oh he did?” Jay echoed, voice teasing.
Sunghoon stood a few steps back from the others, arms crossed loosely, leaning against your fridge. He hadn’t said much since stepping into your place, but now he watched the three of you.
The way you smiled when Jay made a joke. The way Jake knew where you kept your mixing bowls. The way your eyes sparkled, just slightly, when you laughed about something from home. The way they got it. The way they knew you.
And the way he didn’t.
Sunghoon couldn’t explain it but it made his stomach twist. Tight and strange and uncomfortable.
And then he heard it again.
Jungwon.
Who the hell was Jungwon?
His name sounded too casual. Too affectionate. The kind of name you didn’t just drop without meaning.
Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just looked down at your countertop, at the flour dusting your hands and the delicate way your fingers shaped the crust, and all he could think was—
Why the fuck did he care so much?
You moved around your kitchen with the kind of ease that made it impossible not to watch. Sunghoon’s eyes were locked on you, the way your hair swayed behind your back as you leaned forward to stir something in the pot, the way your sleeves were pushed up.
His heart pounded harder than it should’ve. He tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe it was just the smell of garlic and butter making him lightheaded. That had to be it, right?
Except no.
He hadn’t planned on feeling like this today. Not when he woke up. Not when he brushed his teeth and went on his phone and told himself he’d stay in his apartment. He hadn’t even planned on coming over. And that night the two of you shared noodles? He’d chalked it up to vulnerability. Nighttime feelings. Nothing serious.
But now it was noon. He was awake. Sober. And you were still somehow making his chest tighten just by existing within ten feet of him.
God. He hated having a crush.
He didn’t even realise how lost he looked until Jake spoke up from the side, breaking the spell.
“So, is Jungwon finally coming?”
This guy again.
Sunghoon’s head whipped toward Jake so fast it might’ve snapped his neck.
You perked up at the mention, a smile blooming across your face without even trying. “Yeah! He’s coming in two weeks! I actually told him about you guys. He’s kinda excited to meet you.”
That smile. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced. You looked like someone who meant it. Someone who missed this guy. Someone who talked to him often.
Sunghoon clenched his jaw and looked away, grabbing a water bottle off your counter just to do something with his hands. He twisted the cap a little too hard.
He didn’t know who the hell Jungwon was.
But he already didn’t like him.
“He’s coming over?” Jay asked, his mouth still half-full of pie filling.
“Yeah,” you said casually, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you peeked into the oven. “He’s staying at my place for the week he’s here.”
Staying at your place?
Sunghoon blinked.
He looked around your apartment, eyes scanning every corner like they were going to magically reveal a hidden guest room. But there wasn’t one. You lived in a studio. Everything was in one space. Your bed, your desk, your kitchen, your couch. Except… there wasn’t even a real couch. Just a throw-covered loveseat that barely seated two.
No air mattress in sight. No hidden folding cot. No suspicious lumpy bags that might hold a spare futon.
Just one bed.
His chest tightened.
Where the hell was Jungwon gonna sleep? With you?
He picked at the label on his water bottle, teeth grinding quietly as he stared down at the floor, like it held answers. It didn’t.
He wasn’t even involved with you. This shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother him.
But it did. In the most uncomfortable, teeth-clenching, mind-racing kind of way.
-
You stood in front of the three boys, arms crossed, heart racing slightly under your apron. The chicken pot pie sat on the table…golden brown crust, just the right amount of bubbling over on the sides, the smell of thyme and butter and garlic filling your apartment.
Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon each took a spoonful at the same time like they’d rehearsed it. You watched them, nervous, scanning their faces.
One by one, their expressions lit up. Jake’s eyes widened, Jay let out a satisfied groan. Well… except Sunghoon. Of course.
He stayed still. Always unreadable. But you caught it. The tiny pause, the way his brows lifted just a fraction. He liked it. He just didn’t show it like the others.
“So—” Jake started.
“Good,” Jay finished, already reaching for more.
Your eyes flicked to Sunghoon. Somehow, his opinion was the one you were waiting on. The one you needed.
“So?” you asked, staring at him.
He blinked. “What?”
“How is it?”
“It’s good,” he said, nodding once, tone flat as ever.
Your smile dropped. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“What? I just said it’s good.”
“No, you said ‘good’ and then frowned and put your spoon down. Usually it’s ‘It’s good,’ then a second bite. Right, boys?”
Jake nodded enthusiastically, chicken still in his mouth. “She’s right.”
“Totally right,” Jay added, already helping himself to more.
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re all being dramatic.”
You scoffed, insulted. “I guess you don’t want seconds then. Tch.”
You clicked your tongue and turned on your heel, storming off toward the kitchen, grumbling under your breath. Your apron fluttered behind you as you moved, and you didn’t look back.
Sunghoon watched your little pout, the way your shoulders stiffened, how you exaggerated every step. He didn’t know why, but he liked your reaction. No, he loved it. He found it ridiculously cute. Too cute, actually. That slight wrinkle in your forehead. The way your voice got higher when you were mad. The tiny stomp in your step.
The moment your back turned, his lips twitched upward.
When lunch ended and the three of them stood by your front door, Jake and Jay turned to hug you dramatically.
“Never move out,” Jake said into your shoulder.
You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because you get free food.”
“And precisely why we don’t want you to move out,” Jay replied, squeezing you once more before the two of them shuffled out, bickering as they made their way into their apartment across the hall.
Sunghoon lingered. Just behind you.
You turned, raising a brow. “Aren’t you leaving?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped back slowly, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking to the floor before settling back on you. Then he paused. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say.
“The chicken pot pie was good. I think…” he exhaled, voice quieter, “I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever had.”
You blinked, caught off guard.
“It reminded me of home,” he added, eyes still on you now, a little softer than usual. “Not in the way where it’s about the taste or anything… it’s just… you cook like home. If that makes any sense.”
You hadn’t expected that.
Your cheeks flushed immediately. You turned away before he could see it, pretending to fiddle with a dish on the counter, fingers uselessly adjusting an already-clean plate.
“Thank you,” you murmured, voice low, almost shy.
He lingered for a second longer like he wanted to say more. Then he gave a quiet nod and walked out the door.
-
It was raining.
It was only 4 p.m., but the sky had turned an eerie charcoal grey, clouds rolling thick above the city. Thunder cracked so loud you felt it in your chest, and the wind howled between the buildings, slamming against your windows.
You hated this.
You hated how much you still feared storms even at your age. How useless independence felt when you were stuffing tissues in your ears and jamming earmuffs over your head like you were five again. You turned on every single light in your apartment, lamps, fairy lights, even your microwave light and cocooned yourself under your thickest blanket, barely breathing, eyes wide.
Then the whole building shuddered.
The lights flickered.
And then everything went dark.
You screamed.
Your apartment disappeared into a blanket of pitch black, shadows curling up the walls like ink. Your heart pounded. You scrambled up from the couch, tearing off your earmuffs and patting the walls with shaky hands, trying to find a light switch like that would fix anything.
“Shit,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Shit shit shit.”
You fumbled for your phone. A message popped up from your landlord.
“The building is experiencing a temporary blackout due to the storm. Electricity should resume in an hour. Thank you for your patience.”
An hour? Alone? In this? In the dark? Absolutely fucking not.
You jumped at another violent crack of thunder and instantly rushed out into the hallway. Your blanket trailed behind you like a cape. You beelined for the only door you knew.
You knocked. The door swung open almost immediately.
“No time to explain but I’m shitting bricks here,” you said all at once.
It wasn’t Jake or Jay.
It was Sunghoon.
His brows raised. “The thunderstorm?”
You nodded frantically. “Are Jake or Jay here?”
“They’re asleep.” He glanced behind him, then back at you. “But I could… stay with you. If you want. Until it passes.”
You hesitated.
Then thunder cracked again, louder this time, right above your building.
You flinched. “Okay,” you breathed, defeated.
The two of you sat cross-legged on your couch, sharing a single candle as your only source of light. It flickered between you, casting long, warm shadows on the walls.
“Seems like you’re scared of the thunder,” he said gently.
“Well,” you sighed, voice tight. “I’ve been scared of it since I was younger. It just… gets to me.”
He nodded. “It’s okay.”
You noticed it then…the subtle tremble in his shoulders. He was shivering. From the cold, probably. Your heater wasn’t working without electricity, and the apartment was steadily turning into a fridge. You were wrapped up like a burrito, but he’d come in without anything but a hoodie.
Feeling guilty, you shifted toward him and lifted one side of your blanket.
“Uh…” he looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was being pranked.
“Relax. I can see you shivering like a dog,” you muttered.
“Oh.” He blinked, then grabbed the other end of the blanket and scooted in beside you.
Now under the same blanket, his body heat pressed faintly against yours. You sat side by side, knees pulled to your chests.
And then, in a whisper, he said, “You know…”
You looked over at him, startled by the sudden softness in his voice.
“I know I’m not as close to you as Jay and Jake are,” he said, eyes trained on the candle, “but… you don’t always have to find them for help.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“I’m saying…” he sighed, eyes flicking up toward you, and then away again. “Never mind.”
“No, what? Just spit it out.”
He exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I’m just saying… you could ask me for help too.”
You stared at him, your eyes adjusting to the candlelight flickering between you.
“Oh,” you said softly.
There was a beat of silence. You weren’t really sure what to do with that. But you didn’t want to leave it hanging either.
“I’ll be sure to think of you the next time,” you mumbled, barely louder than the rain still pelting the windows outside.
You felt him nod beside you.
You turned your head slowly, resting your cheek against your knees, eyes drifting toward him. His face was tilted down, lashes long and dark as they blinked now and then, just slow enough for you to notice. His jaw had softened a little. He looked calm, in a way you weren’t used to seeing him.
“Would you rather have a million dollars,” you said suddenly, “or have no problems in the world?”
He blinked, confused for a second, then turned his head toward you. His chin was on his knees now too, and with the two of you curled up in the same blanket, inches apart, it felt almost like whispering under covers at a sleepover.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A good one,” you replied, lips twitching. “So answer it.”
He scoffed a little under his breath. “Uh… maybe no problems in the world?”
“Smart answer. Why?”
He paused, “I think people ruin themselves trying to solve problems that shouldn’t be theirs. If I had no problems, maybe I wouldn’t waste time worrying about all the stuff that doesn’t matter.”
You blinked at him. That was… not the answer you were expecting. It was a good one. Way too good, actually.
“Right,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.
He looked at you for a second longer before his eyes flicked down. “Your turn. Would you rather go back in time or go into the future?”
You puffed your cheeks out, thinking. “Hmm… that’s a toughie.”
Then your eyes widened, the way they always did when you had a lightbulb moment. “Go back in time!”
“Why’s that?”
“So maybe I’d really weigh the pros and cons of moving to a city where I know no one,” you said with a grin, but it faded slightly at the end.
Sunghoon stayed quiet.
“You must really feel alone,” he said.
You blinked, startled. “What?”
“I hear you talking about it sometimes. On your balcony. When you think no one’s listening. You talk about how moving here feels like a mistake.”
You looked away, embarrassed. “It’s not a mistake. I just… miss everything back home.”
“I get it,” he said after a second. “I was like you. Back when I was home, I wanted to leave so badly. Thought being somewhere else would fix everything. But now that I’m here… yeah, I have Jay and Jake, and they’re great, but sometimes I come back to the apartment and everything’s fine and normal and still—I just feel… empty. And I don’t even know why.”
You didn’t say anything for a long time.
You just watched him. His face had turned thoughtful, distant. His eyes unfocused, drifting somewhere past the flickering candle, past your walls, like he was staring right through the quiet that lived in his chest.
You mumbled, “Well, yeah. But… I also don’t regret it. Not one bit.”
“Really?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I mean—I’m here doing what I love. Not many people get to do that. And I made friends with three incredibly annoying people in this building.”
He turned toward you again, eyes narrowing playfully. “So we’re friends now?”
Your cheeks heated up instantly. You glanced away, pretending to roll your eyes. “Are we not?”
He let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled softly at the back of his throat. “I’m glad you think we are.”
“So,” you said, tilting your head, “does this mean you’ll finally be nice to me now? Or is that too much character development for one night?”
Sunghoon smirked, eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint. “You want nice? From me?”
“Yeah. Like a full sentence without sarcasm. I feel like that’s a reward I’ve earned by now.”
“You earned a participation medal at best.”
You laughed, nudging him with your knee. “Unbelievable.”
He was already looking at you again—closer this time.
“Hold on,” he said softly, “you have an eyelash on your cheek.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
Before you could move, he leaned in.
His face hovered inches from yours as his thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch soft but sure. The pads of his fingers were warm. His eyes, now impossibly close, scanned your face with a kind of quiet focus you hadn’t felt from him before. You swallowed.
Neither of you moved.
Your gaze locked, and the space between you slowly disappeared…inch by inch, breath by breath. It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.
Then suddenly, his lips were on yours.
Then it deepened. His other hand pushed the blanket off his head, dropping behind your neck to pull you in, and your hands found their way to his thighs, then to the curve of his jaw. His lips parted just enough, and your pulse jumped as he moved against you.
His hands slid to your waist. He lifted you slightly and shifted you into his lap in one smooth motion. You were now straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he didn’t stop kissing you, not even for a second.
The kiss grew stronger. He tilted his head, hand moving to your chin to pull you even closer, his mouth parting yours with a low inhale as his tongue brushed against yours.
Your hands moved back down, gripping at the soft cotton of his hoodie, when—
Click.
The lights flickered on.
You both froze.
Your faces were still inches apart.
You slowly pulled back, still on his lap. He blinked, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Like part of him wanted to keep going, and the other part… couldn’t believe you just kissed him like that.
You stared at each other, the silence heavy now.
His hands were still resting lightly on your waist. Yours were still fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Both of you breathless.
“I need to go back home,” Sunghoon said suddenly, voice low but rushed. His eyes darted everywhere except at you.
You blinked. “Right. Of course!” you said quickly, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. No—totally.”
He shifted awkwardly underneath you, face flushing as he cleared his throat and muttered, “Probably… need a pillow or something.”
It took you a second.
Then you saw the way he was subtly covering his lap with the edge of the blanket.
“Oh.” Your voice came out small. You quickly scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning so hot they could’ve powered your apartment during the blackout.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, already halfway to your door.
And then, Sunghoon stormed out of your apartment.
-
It had been a couple of days since you last properly spoke to Sunghoon. Not for lack of trying. You had…more than once. But each time, he’d give you a quick nod, maybe a polite smile if you were lucky, before promptly power-walking away.
Maybe he just wasn’t feeling what you were feeling. Maybe that kiss was a fluke, something in the heat of the moment. Maybe your little new crush was painfully one-sided.
But you pushed it aside. You had bigger things to focus on.
Jungwon was coming today.
You’d spent the entire morning rearranging your apartment, cleaning it from top to bottom, fluffing cushions and spraying perfume not just on yourself but into the air like it could somehow mask how nervous you were. You even did your hair the way he liked it, soft curls and a side part.
And then, there he was.
The door swung open and your best friend stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand and a grin already on his face.
“WON!” you squealed, running up to him and leaping into his arms.
“Hello, idiot,” he said, his voice fond as he hugged you back, lifting you off the ground with ease.
The shout must’ve startled the boys in 3C, because right on cue, the door across the hall creaked open and out came Jake and Jay, both peeking out.
They spotted you clinging to Jungwon like a koala.
You beamed. “Guys! It’s him!”
“The famous Jungwon,” Jay said, nodding in approval as he stepped out.
“And you must be Jake and Jay,” Jungwon said smoothly, setting you down.
Then came the third.
Sunghoon.
He didn’t move from the doorway. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Jungwon turned to him, a friendly smile still on his lips, chuckling. “You must be Sunghoon, then.”
Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What’s so funny?”
Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “She just… told me you were like this.”
“Like what?” Sunghoon asked sharply, the scoff nearly audible in his tone.
Jungwon scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing. She just said you were cool,” he said with a shrug, throwing you a teasing look.
Sunghoon rolled his eyes.
You stood there, suddenly awkward, unsure what the hell had crawled up Sunghoon’s ass. The hostility was as thick as the tension in the air and you hadn’t done anything. Not really.
At least you didn’t think you had.
Just stood there, arms crossed, a stiff expression on his face while Jake and Jay welcomed Jungwon like he was already part of the group. Jungwon, ever the social butterfly, fit in easily, throwing a few jokes around, complimenting the apartment despite its questionable decor, and even teasing Jake about the ugly dinosaur pyjamas he was wearing in broad daylight.
But Sunghoon?
He was frowning the entire time.
You couldn’t figure it out. His jaw was tight, his responses were clipped, and every time Jungwon so much as glanced your way, you saw Sunghoon’s eye twitch.
You walked back to your apartment with Jungwon beside you, chatting excitedly about dinner plans and all the places he wanted to visit during his stay. But when you turned back, just for a second, you caught Sunghoon still watching. Still standing in the hallway.
His arms were still crossed.
And he didn’t look away.
-
Sunghoon stood there, arms folded across his chest like they were the only things keeping him together. He stared ahead blankly, jaw tight, doing everything in his power not to glare a hole through the wall. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.
Sure, he knew he had a crush on you. He’d known since the chicken pot pie, probably. Or maybe since you wrapped that blanket around his shoulders. Or maybe long before that. But what he didn’t know was who the fuck Jungwon was, and why he was walking into your apartment.
“Dude,” Jake muttered, throwing him a sideways look. “You could’ve at least smiled.”
“I did,” Sunghoon growled, not bothering to hide his scowl.
Jay snorted. “That was barely a smile. You looked like you were in the middle of passing a kidney stone.”
“Why do I even have to be nice?” Sunghoon snapped. “I don’t know him.”
“Because your crush’s boyfriend just came into town,” Jake replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sunghoon's head snapped to him so fast you’d think he got whiplash. “Boyfriend?”
Jay raised a brow. “Not denying the crush though.”
Sunghoon ignored him. “Let me ask you again. Boyfriend?”
Jake shrugged. “I mean… yeah, I guess?”
“What the fuck do you mean you guess?” Sunghoon hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “He can’t be her boyfriend.”
“But he is,” Jay said with a shrug and an infuriatingly smug smile.
“No, he’s not. He can’t be. Because she and I…” he paused, realising too late what was about to fall out of his mouth. “…kissed. Three nights ago.”
Jake’s mouth dropped open. Jay blinked.
“I’m sorry, what?” Jake finally blurted.
“Nothing,” Sunghoon muttered quickly, suddenly desperate to eat his words.
“You can’t say nothing when you just said everything!” Jake shouted, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulders and shaking him.
“Tell us right now!” Jay begged dramatically, gripping his own hair.
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, flustered. “I—we—kissed. That’s it.”
Jay blinked. “You know we were kidding about the boyfriend thing, right?”
Jake grinned. “Jungwon’s just her best friend.”
“We just wanted to see if you’d admit you liked her,” Jay added, eyes sparkling with way too much joy. “Which you did.”
“No, I didn’t,” Sunghoon argued weakly. “I just said we kissed.”
“Okay, Mr Visceral Reaction every time we mention Jungwon,” Jake teased.
Jay smirked. “Say it. Say you like her.”
Sunghoon groaned, eyes shut tight as if the ceiling could swallow him whole. Then, finally—quietly, begrudgingly—
“Okay. So what if I like her?”
Jay and Jake immediately turned to each other with identical gasps, smacking each other’s arms excitedly.
“Oh my god, he admitted it,” Jay whispered dramatically.
Jake clutched his chest. “It’s happening.”
“You guys are disgusting,” Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if you keep acting like this, I’m never telling you anything again.”
“Okay, okay.” Jake raised both hands, trying to suppress a grin. “We’ll behave.”
“BUT I’M SO EXCITED,” Jay squealed.
Jake smacked him on the shoulder. “Starting now.”
Jay nodded solemnly, rubbing his arm. “Sorry. That one slipped.”
Sunghoon sighed and leaned against the counter, arms crossed again. “I started liking her last month… when you guys went back home for the week. She cooked me stir-fried noodles, and we ate together. Played FIFA. I don’t know. I just… developed a crush on her.”
“That’s so cute,” Jay and Jake said in unison, stars in their eyes.
“Seriously, can the two of you act normal for like three minutes?”
Jake shrugged, still smiling. “I just didn’t expect you to have a girlfriend before me.”
Jay patted his shoulder. “You’ll get there, buddy.”
Jake tilted his head. “You think?”
“Yeah, you have nice eyes. Great personality.”
Jake beamed. “That’s so kind.”
“Can we please get back to my problem for like a minute?” Sunghoon cut in, glaring at both of them.
“Oh. Right.”
Jay cleared his throat and finally looked serious. “Look. We like her. She’s hilarious, and she makes good fucking food. And let’s be real, you’ve never liked anyone. We’ve been trying to get you to double date with us for years and you just stare at your phone all the time. But with her? You’re like... a guy with actual feelings.”
“But now I’m losing to Jung… whatever his name is.” Sunghoon sighed.
“Jungwon,” Jake said. “And no, you’re not.”
“How do you know she doesn’t like him?” Sunghoon muttered, staring down at the floor.
“Because,” Jay said, “if she did, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Unless she’s indecisive or confused or something. I don’t know.” Sunghoon exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I was just… a moment. And he’s her person.”
Jake shook his head. “I’m telling you—just talk to her.”
“Yeah,” Jay added. “Before you spiral even harder and start writing love songs about her. But if you do, I haved like a couple of guitars you could borrow.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes. But somewhere, deep down… a part of him hoped they were right.
-
You were pacing back and forth on your cheap IKEA rug, while Jungwon was laid out dramatically on your bed, arms folded behind his head, thoroughly enjoying the show.
“I’m telling you, he’s avoiding me,” you snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at no one in particular. “We kissed—KISSED, Jungwon—and now he won’t even look at me! I wave, he nods. I say hi, he nods. I breathe in his direction, he—guess what—nods!”
Jungwon hummed, annoyingly calm. “Maybe he’s nervous. Or maybe he wants you to go to him.”
“I do go to him! And then he speed-walks away like I’m the plague!” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I’m gonna lose it.”
“Maybe…” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, “you’re just a shit kisser.”
You whipped around and chucked a throw pillow directly at his smug face.
“Asshole.”
He caught it with a grin, clutching it to his chest dramatically. “I’m just saying. Maybe you scared him off.”
“You’re lucky I haven’t strangled you with this blanket,” you muttered, grabbing another pillow just in case.
Jungwon sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “You know, sometimes I forget we grew up together because you’re so unpredictable now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He snorted. “You used to be fearless. Remember that Heeseung guy you had a crush on in middle school?”
You blinked. “What about him?”
“You were six, and you walked up to him at recess, said ‘I like your lunchbox,’ then kissed his cheek and ran off.”
“Ah,” you said flatly, “the good old days. That girl’s dead now.”
“She’s not dead,” Jungwon argued, grabbing your wrists and tugging you to sit beside him on the bed. “She’s just… overthinking everything. Look, if Sunghoon doesn’t like you—whatever. But if he does? You’re missing out just because you’re too chicken to tell him.”
You glared. “I hate it when you make sense.”
“I know.” He grinned. “It’s my worst trait.”
“I just—” you exhaled, flopping back beside him. “What if it ruins everything? We literally just got closer. What if I say something and it all goes to shit?”
“Okay, counter-offer.” He sat up straighter. “You tell him, or I will. I will walk down the hallway, knock on his door, and go ‘Hi, my best friend has feelings for you, she also has performance anxiety but can cook a great bowl of chicken noodle soup.’”
“You wouldn’t,” you hissed, swatting at his arm.
“Then do it yourself!” he laughed, dodging your attacks. “Before I start printing flyers and pasting them in the apartment lobby.”
God. Why did he always have to be right?
“Fine.”
Your hand was already on the doorknob, breath caught in your throat, just about to leave when the door across from yours had swung open at the exact same time.
And there he was.
Sunghoon.
You both froze, hands still gripping the doorknobs, blinking.
You cleared your throat first. “Sunghoon.”
He blinked like he hadn’t already been staring. “What?”
You squinted. “Is that the only word you know how to say when I call your name?”
He paused. “Sorry.”
You opened your mouth to say something else but were rudely interrupted by muffled snorts from behind Sunghoon. Jay and Jake’s heads popped out from their doorway like nosy meerkats.
“Hoon,” Jay said in a loud, exaggerated voice, “we need more eggs.”
“Desperately,” Jake added, nodding like this was a national emergency. “Go to the store.”
Then Jungwon peeked out from behind you with an equally suspicious grin. “Oh, and while you’re there, can you grab some ice cream too?”
You and Sunghoon looked at each other.
“What is happening right now,” you said flatly.
Before either of you could respond, four hands shoved the both of you toward the elevator. You stumbled in, the doors sliding shut just as Jay yelled out, “Don’t come back without snacks!”
The elevator stopped at your floor.
Your shoulders brushed as you stood side by side, awkwardly watching the floor numbers light up.
Then, finally, you broke it. “About that day—”
Sunghoon shook his head quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Jungwon.”
You blinked. “What do you mean you won’t tell Jungwon?”
He looked away. “Well, aren’t you like… crushing on him? I wouldn’t want what we did to, you know… ruin your chances or something.”
Your entire face scrunched up. “Won and I? What? Ew. God, no. We’re friends. We grew up together. Thinking about him that way would be like incest or something.”
And just like that, Sunghoon felt like he’d been hit by a shooting star and given a second chance at life. His heart did a full backflip. You were single. You were available.
He couldn’t help it. He smiled.
“Why do you suddenly look so happy?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I’m not.”
“You’re literally smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“We’ve hung out a couple of times and if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen you smile this—”
“Cut it out.” He tried to brush it off, biting back the grin. “I’m just glad.”
“Glad about?”
“Glad that I didn’t ruin your chances,” he said nonchalantly, looking up like he hadn’t just panicked thirty seconds ago.
“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the golden-orange glow of the sunset casting warmth across his cheekbones. He was handsome. Frustratingly so. “Well… because I actually like this other guy.”
Sunghoon’s smile faltered.
“I haven’t known him that long,” you continued casually, “but he seems cool. I don’t really know much about him yet.”
“That’s… nice.” Sunghoon turned away quickly, jaw tight. He was definitely grimacing. Please don’t let her see that I’m grimacing, he begged internally.
“Yeah, he’s really tall. Really handsome, too.”
“That’s just…” he exhaled. “Great.”
“He doesn’t seem super friendly but he has a big heart. Even if he tries really hard not to show it.”
“Seems like a swell fuckin’ guy,” he muttered bitterly.
“It’s a pity though,” you sighed dramatically, still watching him. “I wish I could get to know him better.”
“Well… anyone’s lucky to get to know you.” He tried to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know I am.”
You tilted your head. “Not to mention… he lives really close to me.”
Sunghoon’s eyes darted to you. “He does?”
“Mhm.” You nodded, heartbeat accelerating.
“Like how close?”
You took a slow step toward him. “Like… just across the hall close.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “That close.”
Silence settled in the small elevator. You both just stood there, not looking at each other, tension hanging in the air like humidity.
Then, out of nowhere—
“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon said, dead serious, “but Jake sleeps with the lights on and Jay doesn’t wash his hair as often as you think he does.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“I sleep normal,” he added quickly. “I wash my hair. I do proper haircare—shampoo, conditioner, mask, mist. I could do your routine too. For you. If you want.”
You stared.
“I can’t cook, but I’ll try. I can figure skate. I can spin twice in the air. Jay and Jake? Not even one spin. Jay can play guitar, Jake can sing but I can spin, okay? Without getting dizzy too.”
“Sunghoon.”
“And those idiots never clean up after eating your food. Jay doesn’t use coasters. Jake never makes his bed.”
“SUNGHOON!”
He looked at you, breathless. “What?”
You stepped forward. Slowly. Then, you mumbled, “It’s you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I like you.”
And for once, Park Sunghoon had absolutely nothing to say.
“Okay,” he said. “Cool. Okay. I—wow. Okay.”
You raised a brow. “That’s it?”
He nodded dumbly. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just—holy shit. You like me.”
You smirked, the smile slowly stretching across your face. “Yes. I like you.”
The elevator dinged. Neither of you moved.
He looked at you again, still dazed. “Hold on, I kinda need a minute.”
You both stepped out into the empty lobby. The sun outside had just dipped below the skyline, casting a pinkish-orange glow through the glass doors. The streetlights flickered on. But you waited.
“It’s been a minute,” you said.
“I know,” he exhaled, hand raking through his hair. “But you like me back, so I kinda need, like… a long minute.”
“Back?” You grinned, the corners of your mouth lifting all the way to your eyes. “So you like me too?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious from the, uh… word vomit.”
“Well yeah,” you shrugged. “But I didn’t want to assume. Didn’t wanna be narcissistic.”
“I think even if you were,” he muttered, “I’d still think you were pretty cute.”
You blinked. “Did you just—”
“Gross, I know,” he said quickly, face flushing. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”
You laughed. “Yeah. But you kinda can’t take it back now.”
“Fine,” he said, pretending to groan. “You’re cute. Ugh. I said it again.”
-
A MONTH LATER
Jay and Jake found it fundamentally unfair. They were the ones who got close to you first. They were the ones who complimented you, made you laugh, showed up when you needed help. They loved you first or at least, that’s what they told themselves. But here you were, doors locked for the first time in three months, cooking a full-course meal for Sunghoon to celebrate your one-month anniversary.
“You’re not allowed to come,” Sunghoon told them flatly before slamming the door shut.
“But—!” they shouted in unison, already mourning the steak they wouldn’t get to taste.
Word on the hallway was that you were cooking the perfect medium-rare T-bone steak, paired with your signature brown sauce and a vegetable medley so crunchy and flavourful. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake sat hunched on the couch, scrolling through a food delivery app.
“Isn’t it funny,” Jake said, arms folded, “how we were the ones who befriended her first, and now we’re stuck with Burger King?”
“Life’s unfair, bud.”
Back in your apartment, things were a little more romantic. You’d decorated with fairy lights and candles, the room dimly lit. You were still being frugal, splitting every cost you could. But you’d managed to steal two T-bone steaks from the diner you part-timed at.
Sunghoon showed up in a black and white tuxedo, looking like he’d taken the prom theme you had placed as a joke a little too seriously.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.
“And you look absolutely handsome,” you grinned.
He walked over to the table and took in the spread. “Okay, what do we have?”
“I made the steaks, obviously, and then there’s the vegetable medley… and your favourite—mashed potatoes,” you giggled.
Sunghoon exhaled, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “How did I get so lucky?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know either.”
He laughed. “The guys are pissed, by the way. You made me all this, and they’re over there with cold fries.”
“What?” you said, surprised. “I made them something too! Don’t worry.”
“You did?” he raised a brow.
“I had a feeling they’d be hungry if you were over here.”
“Babe, you didn’t have to do that. They’re grown men.”
“Yeah, but technically my assignment this week was pasta and I have too many leftovers.”
“They’re spoiled by you.”
“And so are you.”
“True, but I’m your boyfriend. They’re just two annoying shitheads constantly trying to butt in.”
“I’ll be quick. I’ll just drop the dish off and come back.”
“No,” he said, standing. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”
He kissed your forehead, grabbing the lasagna you’d tucked into the fridge. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”
“He walked across the hall and opened the door to Unit 3C.
Inside, Jay was mid-rant. “I just don’t get it. Sunghoon isn’t even that hot.”
“I mean, he is,” Jake added, “but she deserves better, you know?”
Sunghoon cleared his throat. “I can hear you two idiots.”
They both froze, turning around sheepishly. “We were just joking. We love you, man.”
He held up the dish. “And to think I came here bearing gifts from my girlfriend.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait—is that lasagna?”
“She felt bad we were eating good without you, so she made you dinner.”
“Oh my god,” Jay gasped. “Sunghoon, I don’t mean to be pushy, but please marry her.”
“I can’t,” Sunghoon muttered. “Not when you two are constantly inserting yourselves into my relationship.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll back off. Just—can we have the lasagna?”
“And can you tell her we love her?”
“I am not telling my girlfriend you love her,” Sunghoon snapped. “I’ve barely worked up the nerve to tell her that myself.”
“Wait,” Jake said suddenly, “you haven’t told her you love her yet?”
“It’s only been a month.”
“So… you don’t love her?”
“I do,” Sunghoon replied, almost too quickly. “I just don’t want to come on too strong if she’s not ready.”
Jay and Jake shared a glance before shrugging.
“What?” Sunghoon asked, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Jake cleared his throat. “It’s just… she already said it.”
Sunghoon looked up. “What?”
“Yeah,” Jake replied casually. “You texted her about picking up those heat packs for her cramps, and she went all soft and whispered, ‘God, I love him so much.’ Her words. Not mine.”
Sunghoon stood frozen in the doorway, the dish in his hands suddenly weightless.
You loved him.
“So… you’re saying I should tell her?” he asked, voice quiet, almost unsure.
Jay and Jake both nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Especially if it makes her our sister-in-law,” Jay added, grinning.
Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “God, the two of you can be so annoying.”
“But you still love us,” Jay shrugged. “So what’s the point of complaining?”
He hated that Jay was right.
Back in your apartment, Sunghoon sat across from you, completely transfixed. You were dressed in a soft pink satin dress that shimmered every time you moved. It hugged your shoulders delicately, the neckline simple, elegant. Your hair was curled softly, pinned loosely on one side with a vintage clip, and your lips were glossed just enough to make him stare longer than he should’ve.
And God, you looked so beautiful.
He tried to pay attention. He really did. But his heart was too loud, his thoughts too full. How was he supposed to say it?
Sunghoon had never told anyone he loved them before. Not seriously. Maybe to his mom years ago, right before he left for the city. But this? This felt entirely new.
Because sitting in front of him was someone who made every quiet part of his life feel loud again. You filled in the spaces he didn’t even know were missing. You made his apartment feel less cold, his world a little less grey. And the way he loved you—God, it wasn’t something small. It wasn’t a flicker or a passing crush. It was all-consuming and terrifying and the best damn thing he’d ever felt.
He loved you like it was muscle memory. Like even if he forgot everything else, his hands would still reach for yours and only yours.
“Hoonie,” you interrupted gently, frowning. “You’re not listening.”
He blinked back into focus. “Sorry,” he murmured, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just thinking about something.”
“What?” you looked up at him, ur big eyes shining.
Sunghoon unknowingly smiled, his eyes dripping with honey, god he loved you. He wanted to say that. So badly.
“I…I just–uh–feel…that,” His voice trailed off. “You look really beautiful tonight. I mean, you always do. But especially tonight.” He hesitated, the words stuck behind his teeth.
You smiled. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”
-
Later that night, the two of you were in Sunghoon’s apartment along with Jay and Jake for the usual game night.
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your prom-night dress bunched awkwardly around your knees, mascara slightly smudged from earlier laughter, hair pinned half-up. Sunghoon sat slouched in the beanbag beside you, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration. Jake was lying on his stomach, legs swinging in the air, and Jay had somehow made himself horizontal on the couch.
You and Jake were a team. Sunghoon and Jay were not handling that well.
“Revive me!” Sunghoon yelled.
Jay shouted back, “I’m busy trying not to die, dumbass!”
Button mashing intensified. Trash talk flew across the room.
“VICTORY!” Jake screamed, leaping up like a madman.
You followed suit, springing to your feet and clambering up onto the coffee table in your dress. “GET WRECKED, LOSERS!” you yelled, pointing dramatically at Sunghoon. “THAT’S RIGHT, LOSERS!”
Jake joined you on the table, doing a badly timed robot dance. The two of you jumped in sync, yelling in triumph, while Jay groaned into a throw pillow and Sunghoon watched with a hand covering his mouth, half to hide his smile, half to suppress a laugh.
“You’re all bark, no bite!” you called, face flushed, hair falling loose. “Your character died fourteen times, Hoonie.”
“I let you win!” he shot back, grinning as he sat up straighter. “I was being a gentleman.”
“Sure,” you scoffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “Real chivalrous of you, sir died-14-fucking-times.”
He chuckled under his breath, eyes lingering on you for a second longer than usual. Then, without a word, he stood and walked out of the room.
You blinked. That was...odd.
You gave Jake a gentle shove off the table and followed Sunghoon into the hallway. He was pacing outside, one hand in his hair, the other fiddling with the watch on his wrist.
“Hoon?” you asked, stepping out and gently closing the door behind you.
He jumped slightly, turning toward you. “You scared me.”
“You okay? You just left so sudden…”
“I—uh—yeah. I was just trying to figure out how to say something.”
You tilted your head, arms crossing over your chest. “Say what?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug.
Your expression softened. “Are you mad at me?” You sighed. Maybe your little victory dance had been a bit much. “Hoonie?”
“No, baby, I could never be mad at you,” he said quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just…”
You stepped closer, teasing lightly, “Do you want me to redo my victory dance? I could. You just have to beatbox, and I’ll take it from there.”
That made him laugh.
“Come on,” you grinned, starting to move your body in the most ridiculous way. “I’m pretty sure I should’ve been a dancer instead of a chef.”
He laughed again, this time louder and then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
“Oh my god, I love you.”
You blinked. Your smile faded. Your brain, for one impossible second, completely short-circuited.
“Did you just say you love me?” you asked, heart hammering.
His eyes widened in sheer panic. “No?”
“I heard it.”
“You misheard.”
“Oh my god,” you gasped, practically vibrating. “You love me. You love me!”
“Fine!” he burst out, throwing his hands up like he was under arrest. “I do! I love you, okay?”
You smiled, “You do?”
“Of course! I love the way you talk too fast when you’re excited. I love how you make my idiot friends feel like they matter. I love that you make me feel whole. That when I’m with you, I don’t feel hollow anymore. You… you make me feel like I’m not empty.”
You grinned so wide it hurt. “That’s because you’re not.”
“I used to be,” he said helplessly, gesturing vaguely like he was mourning his past self. “I was mysterious. Brooding. Sexy, even. And now? Now I smile at cat videos you send me on TikTok. Look what you’ve done to me. This is all your fault.”
You scoffed, “My fault?”
“Yes! Who else could it be?” he said, breathless, like the truth had been waiting at the edge of his tongue for too long. “You walk into my life with that stupidly perfect smile, that laugh that makes everything feel lighter, those eyes that somehow hold the whole damn sky and now I’ve got feelings. Big ones.”
He took a shaky breath, pausing for a minute.
“I used to think I was fine on my own. But now? I get out of bed just because I know I might see you. I hear your knock and my whole day lights up. For the first time, I feel like I know what living really means. It’s you. Loving you. That’s it.”
You leaned in and kissed him right in the middle of his rant.
He blinked, dazed.
“You sure talk a lot for someone who usually says nothing,” you murmured, forehead resting against his.
“I do it when I’m nervous,” Sunghoon whispered, and then kissed you again.
“I find it cute,” you mumbled between kisses.
Sunghoon grinned into the next kiss, backing you up step by step toward your apartment door, his hands finding your waist. “God,” kiss “I love you,” another kiss “so much.”
You let out a breathless laugh. “You’re very handsy for someone who claimed to be brooding and mysteriou.”
“I told you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw as he reached behind you, fumbling for the door handle, “you ruined me.”
Your back hit the door with a thud. He fumbled with the knob like he was drunk on you, eventually pushing it open and guiding you inside.
He kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.
You were still laughing into his kiss. He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed and you dropped onto it with a squeak.
He climbed over you, hands on either side of your waist, face flushed, heart in his throat.
“I fucking love you,” he said again, like it wasn’t real until he repeated it.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes sparkling. “I love you too.”
Hello, my name is Nadin I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate. I’m a wife. And now — I’m a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began.
I had dreams of starting a small design studio, of making art that told stories. I used to think about colors, fonts, sketches. I used to think about the future.
Then the war came.
And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home.
25 members of our family were killed — his mother, his siblings, his nieces and nephews, children. Entire branches of a family tree gone in seconds.
We were displaced twice after that.
Everything we had disappeared — home, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter.
There was no crib. No stillness. No celebration.
But she came into the world quietly and beautifully.
And in her eyes, I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks:
life that still wanted to grow.
Now, I spend my days holding her and trying to build a world around her that doesn’t shake with explosions.
We don’t know what comes next.
There is no clear path. We are walking toward the unknown, step by step — with our daughter in our arms and hope as our guide.
🧡 How You Can Help
This is why I’m asking for support. Not for comfort — but for survival.
To help care for one baby girl who entered the world after everything else collapsed.
My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.
If you can spare anything, it will help us:
Cover basic needs, so we can breathe and heal
Support a path toward even the smallest stability in a place that has none
My husband manages the donations securely through a U.S.-registered Stripe account.
Everything is converted to USDT and exchanged here in Gaza.
The rates are difficult — $100 becomes only 195 shekels (July 2025) — but we use every shekel carefully, with full transparency and documentation.
🎨 Sharing a Piece of Me
I want to share more than my need.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll begin posting some of my graphic designs from before the war.
They are pieces of who I was — and who I still am.
They may not be perfect, but they hold something real:
my story before the silence, and my belief that beauty can still live alongside survival.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you.
If you can give — thank you.
And if you can’t, just sharing this post is a form of support I will never forget.
My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again.
And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.
I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughter’s life.
And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness.
Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why I’m Reaching Out
Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
That’s why I keep going.
I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help:
🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity
🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources
🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
💛 If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t
If you can’t give, please consider sharing.
Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours
Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war.
But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.
I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you.
Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring.
We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.
