Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ʚɞ pairing: model!jay x hair & makeup artist!female
content: forced proximity!au // strangers to lovers // rom com // fluff // contains tension // kissing
mentions: jackson wang
word count: 2.5k
synopsis . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. park jongseong is a famous model… a ridiculously good looking one. with the help of your job, a makeup artist, it pushes you to constantly be in close contact with him without any excuse. as the scheduled shoot goes on for a few days, you seems to be focusing on something. not on your job like how you should be— but on him.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 not proof read!!!!
~~~~
another day.
another shift.
by your company, you were assigned to a specific shoot location to work at today… well, it was going to be for three days.
three long days.
you didn’t quite understand why the photoshoot needed to last for three days— but you weren’t completely complaining. you made good money from your work, and this would earn you even more.
arriving onto the set, you entered the studio with the rolling suitcases and bags of makeup and hair supplies, essentially what you brought every time you had a client.
your black kitten heels clicked the ground softly, and the light source from the back of the room soon came into your field of vision.
the rest of the large studio was dimly lit, while the set itself in the corner stood out. there was a white backdrop, lights, computers, and cables all surrounding it. the director waved over to you, bowing.
“hey, it’s nice to meet you! i’m jackson wang,“ he pulled his hand out towards you as soon as you stepped closer. “you must be l/n y/n, correct?”
you nodded your head, “yes, it’s nice to meet you as well. i look forward to working with you and your team!”
“you’ll have a great time, don’t worry bout' being too perfect.” he flashed a smile.
~~~~
everyone was on set and prepared for the shoot-- except now they were all waiting on one more person. the main person.
you weren't formally notified by your company of what the exact details of the shoot was, but you did know it was jackson wang's clothing line, TEAM WANG design. that's all.
"park jongseong should be arriving in 5 minutes." a staff member spoke aloud among the chaos of everyone else getting everything situated.
park jongseong? you thought.
you knew of park jongseong's work, but never really paid attention to his work or projects specifically. but what you did know was that he was a well known model that was almost seen under every brand possible-- soooo... pretty famous.
"hello everyone,"
his voice wasn’t loud, but it was smooth and steady. conversations dipped, movements slowed, and a few heads turned at once.
it was like he stepped in like he already belonged there. he was dressed in a clean, structured outfit that looked effortless but undeniably expensive.
jongseong moved with quiet confidence, no rush, no hesitation. his posture was straight but relaxed, shoulders loose like he was used to everyone looking at him. one hand casually adjusted the cuff of his sleeve as he continued to walk.
and then his face.
it was sharp, but not harsh. defined jawline, smooth skin, features that felt balanced in a way that was almost unfair. he looked more different in person. more real.
his hair fell perfectly— it was styled, but not overly done... just enough to frame his face and soften the edges of his look. when he offered a small, polite smile to the staff greeting him, it shifted everything about him. he seemed warmer. almost dangerous in a quiet way.
his manager pointed towards the direction of where jackson wang and you were at, and jongseong followed behind in a calm manner.
"jackson wang, its a big pleasure to work with you."
he shook his hand and bowed.
"nice to meet you man!"
they both had a little conversation as you stood by the makeup station, rearranging some things. jongseong then turned towards you, bowing.
"hi. you must be the makeup artist, yeah?"
you took a moment to look at him.
"y-yes," you stopped touching the makeup brushes and stood up straight, pulling your hand out, smiling. "i'm l/n y/n, nice to meet you."
he gave back the same satisfied smile and sat onto the black chair at the makeup set up. he seemed to relax in the chair, putting his hands onto the arms of it. he leaned back for a moment, taking a deep breathe.
you started to apply the spot conclear onto his face— but noticing his actions, you spoke (also to keep it not so awkward).
“are you nervous?”
his eyes flicked to yours.
“i’m okay,” he titled his head to look at you.
the way he adverted his gaze towards you made you feel a little weird… the type of weird that made your stomach a little fluttery.
you had no clue what it was, in such a little amount of time— you just met him. but his attraction was taking over you.
it didn’t make much sense though, because with your work, you’ve been with other models of all kinds, which are very good looking too—
but park jongseong.
something was just different about him.
but being as professional as you could, you stopped from trying to be obvious from the jitters you were feeling.
“so… do you do this often?” a corner of his lip turned up.
“yeah, this is my full time job. makeup artist.”
“nice. nice.” a small silence fell between you two. “oh— i’m sorry, i forgot to introduce myself. i’m park jongseong,” his eyes continued to follow your.
“but since you’re doing my makeup and all— you can call me jay.”
your fingers paused for the briefest moment against his skin, brush hovering as you tried to gather your thoughts.
“okay, jay.” you smiled.
he smiled back.
you needed to stay professional, but your heartbeat was nearly betraying you.
by the distance you two were at, you were afraid that he could even hear or feel your heartbeat and how fast it was going.
you swallowed lightly, forcing your hand to move again, blending the concealer like nothing had shifted inside you.
“turn your head this way, please.” you murmured, softer than you intended.
you instinctively touched his cheekbone, guiding him to the direction you wanted him to be in.
he slightly gaped his mouth open from the touch and soon closed his eyes.
after the the makeup was done, he went on with his shoot. watching him from the sidelines was more different than seeing his work on paper or social media.
then— it was time to go home for the day.
“thank you everyone! let’s wrap up, see you guys tomorrow at 9 AM!” jackson wang bowed, prompting everyone else to bow and clap as well.
as you packed your stuff up, jackson wang came over to you, pulling his hand out. “amazing job today, the hair was awesome. also, the makeup— the light was hitting it perfectly.”
you let out a soft laugh, shaking his hand with both of your hands. “thank you— that must be the model himself though that’s making the photos look good.” you said.
he crossed his arms immediately, “don’t talk down on your work like that!— you yourself did great.”
“thank you.” you smiled.
~~~~
walking into parking lot of the studio, you dragged the big two heavy suitcases behind you. suddenly, a taller figure appeared beside you. they swiftly took the right suitcase from your grasp, leading it instead.
you turned your head, slightly jumping, seeing jongseong.
“oh, you don’t have to—“
“i got it.”
a small polite smile plastered across your face. “thank you, park jongseong.”
“it’s jay, remember..?”
“right… jay.”
he let out a chuckle. “that’s it.”
as the doors of the studio opened from the help of jay, it was less chattery than the day before— as everyone seemed to get a sense of the environment.
everyone turned their heads and bowed, waving.
as the morning went on, jackson wang advised you that the team placed your makeup station in a different spot in the big room, so there was a bit more isolation between all the big lights and computers.
now— your setup was in the near corner of the studio, still lit up— but yeah. more isolated.
jay sat onto the chair, immediately pulling his attention towards you.
“thanks for helping me earlier, by the way.” you let aloud, using your hands to rub the moisturizer onto his face.
he nodded without speaking no words.
as you took your hands off of him, you felt a grip on your risk.
jays hand wrapped around your risk, pulling you closer to him.
your faces were now inches apart, way closer than before.
he placed your hand on his cheek. you had no clue what to do.
“…are you okay?” you spoke, barely above a whisper.
“do you want me?”
his eyes gleamed for a moment, he was staring into your eyes. as if he was trying to search for something.
your breath hitched.
“m-me?”
“who else could i be talking about..?”
his took a breath before opening his mouth again.
“you don’t think i don’t notice how hard you breathe when your doing my makeup or my hair? how your hands shake when you need to touch my face?”
“i— that’s just how i normally am.” you swallowed.
"i overheard your conversation with mr. wang yesterday when the shoot ended. you think i look good?"
another pause.
“tell me you don’t want me, and i’ll stop.”
you look down once, then up at him again. “why are you doing this here now..?”
“you’re killing me, y/n.”
his grip tightened a tiny bit more around your wrist. you felt like your hand was practically sinking into his face. his skin was warm under your palm.
he wasn't just warm, he was real in a way that didn’t match the version of him you’d seen everywhere else. the campaigns, the photos, the effortless poses. none of those did him justice up close.
your eyes flickered over his face without meaning to— his sharp jaw brushing against the inside of your wrist, the slight tension there like he was holding himself back. his lips parted just slightly, not saying anything, but breathing. and somehow you could feel that too.
his gaze hadn’t moved from yours, dark and focused, like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.
and it made your chest tighten.
he tilted his head just a little deeper into your hand, like he was leaning into your touch— like he wanted it.
that alone made your thoughts scramble.
“say it,” he murmured, voice lower now. softer, but heavier. “or stop looking at me like that.”
“i’m not—” your voice came out weaker than you meant it to. you stopped yourself from saying anything further.
your eyes dropped for a split second— to his lips.
the moment you looked back up, your heart was beating too fast now— so loud you were sure he could hear it. the space between you felt suffocating, like the air had thickened, like everything outside of this tiny corner had disappeared completely.
your fingers curled slightly against his skin, like you were testing if he’d stop you.
he didn’t.
and if anything, his eyes softened.
that was all it took. your hesitation cracked.
before you could think yourself out of it— before the logic for this or any consequences that you could face—
you leaned in.
you closed the distance, kissing him.
his hand shifted from your wrist, sliding upward to gently hold your arm, pulling you closer— like he’d been waiting for you to lean in.
your breath caught against him, your other hand instinctively grabbing onto his shoulder. you could feel the tension in him now, the kind he had hidden so well earlier.
his grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt— but just enough to anchor you as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head so it fit more naturally, more intentionally. his lips were warm, firm, and steady in a way that made it hard to pull away, like he knew exactly what he was doing without needing to rush anything.
you pulled back first, breathing a bit hard.
you swallowed, your voice quieter now.
“i…” you hesitated, eyes flickering up to meet his.
the way he was looking at you, he was focused. intent. like you were his favorite thing in that moment. he was still holding you, still keeping all his attention on you. your grip on him tightened just a little more, your voice soft but more certain this time.
“i want you all to myself.”
his expression shifted— subtle. something sharper flickered in his eyes, something almost dangerous, like you’d just said exactly what he wasn’t expecting, but wanted to hear anyway.
his thumb brushed lightly against your arm, slow, deliberate.
“all to yourself?” he repeated quietly.
his gaze didn’t leave yours.
“you don’t even know me like that.”
but he didn’t move away. if anything, he leaned in just slightly again— close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips, his voice dropping even lower.
“..and you’re already saying things like that?”
"yeah." you said.
he let out a small chuckle.
"you don't hesitate... do you?"
"don't underestimate me." you responded quietly. your eyes twinkled before removing your hand off his shoulder, then you pulled away-- letting his hand drop from you.
all he could do was nod, hiding his satisfied smirk by pressing his lips together.
"let's finish doing your makeup and hair before mr. wang says something."
you focused on your work, smoothing, blending, fixing the small details that suddenly felt much harder to ignore. his gaze never really left you, though. you could feel it— steady, present, like he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.
when you finally stepped back, you gave a small nod. “done.”
he stood, adjusting his sleeves, then looked at you instead of the mirror.
“…thank you,” he said, softer than before.
the shoot went on like nothing happened— staff calling directions, lights flashing, people moving around nonstop, but something had shifted between you two. it was in the way his eyes found you in a crowded room. the way you’d catch him already looking. the way neither of you looked away as quickly anymore.
and somehow, it didn’t end when the shoot did.
it carried into the next day.
then the next.
and then—
jay: did you get home safe?
the first text was simple, but it didn’t stay that way.
messages turned into late-night calls. calls turned into routines. you started learning him— not the version everyone else saw, but the one who spoke quieter when he was tired, who listened more than he let on, who looked at you like you were something he didn’t want to lose. and he learned you too.
weeks later, it didn’t feel rushed— it was realer than you ever imagined it to be.
his hand found yours one evening without hesitation, fingers intertwining like it had always been that way. you looked at him, and he just smiled. not in a teasing way, but in a reassuring way.
“are you coming to watch my prada shoot?” he asked softly.
you smiled back, squeezing his hand.
“of course.”
he just nodded, bringing your hand up slightly, brushing his thumb over it like it meant something more.
“good,” he murmured.
and just like that— it wasn’t almost, or maybe, or unfinished anymore.
it was you and him.
official and certain.
something that started with the fate of your jobs, turning into something neither of you were willing to let go of.
~~~~
.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ authors note: this was sitting in my drafts ever since jay's shoot of gentle monster came out. i saw him and i was like... yeah. i have a fanfic idea. something small and sweet but i couldn’t help writing HE LOOKS TOO GOOD
THEY END THE EP LIKE THIS?!!! AND THEN PUT THAT TYPE OF MUSIC WHILE SHOWING ALL THE HOUSES’ ART AFTER?? AHHHHHHH.
No, but on a serious note now that i’m awake, I actually am surprised Jin got so agitated not only for the WHY but for the WHO. The only other time he’s been like this was for Thoma (and they’ve known each longer and have their own complex relationship), but MC? I feel like this scene only further fermented the fact Jin cares about the MC (to an extreme degree too), as if it wasn’t noticeable prior.
I noticed a lot of negative reactions to this scene, especially precious MC lovers (I love yall pls continue existing), but as someone who appreciates characters like Jin and Taiga, along with their not-so-relationship with MC, I can’t help but viewing this in a different way. It’s been confirmed multiple times, especially for other houses, and hinted that Frostheim will essentially be the one to win the laurel crown.
Now, what’s important about this is that at the assembly earlier in the year, due to Ed, it was established that the house who will break MC’s curse is the own who will win the prize. However, as we can obviously see, we are nowhere near to doing that😃. So, why, pray tell, is Jin so agitated? If it really was because of the so-called laurel crown (not to mention how nonchalant he was towards the internship..), he would have no reason to be so emotionally unstable towards the fact MC “want to die”. This also provides context for WHY Jin chose to step up for MC at the assembly and offer literally quantriple the price just so the other ghouls would care about breaking her curse. Not to mention…the fact he had to pull strings to find out where MC was cursed (confidential info), was the one in charge of the mission where they found the hringhorni to locate the kyklos, and has been doing so many behind-the-scenes work for the MC. It’s really undeniable at this point he truly cares for her.
I think some people acknowledge this, but are still upset at how he treated MC regardless, throwing glass at all. It never mentioned hitting her or being anywhere near her, but it did mention how the glass shatters represented his heart. So rather than just solely showing his frustration, I believe this was also a moment to show his open vulnerability and heartbreak. As we can tell by his dialogue choices too, he has no idea of what went on in the kyklos mission, only that it escaped. So literally everything he said about it was obvious BS, snd i’m sure he knows it too for someone usually so intelligent, so why would he say such hurtful things? I think he misunderstood the fact that MC chose NOT to ask him for help, when she knows full well how helpful he’d have been. He might’ve viewed this as not trusting him despite having done so with her, and this triggered a lot of his already complex trust issues due to betrayals. And to be honest, I feel he was more angry at the prospect of her wanting to die and feeling suicidal (he def knows she locked herself up for 2 weeks) and that she’s giving up, rather than the fact he wasn’t “chosen”. So rather than this being solely about him, I feel he’s angry at her FOR HER. I honestly think MC knows this too(?) I don’t take her fleeing the room as being scared of him, but rather that she knows right now is not a good time. If she could hold her ground while Taiga shots a literal bullet at her in the literal start of her missions, does it make sense she’ll be scared at a fit like this (that one, didn’t physically injure her in anyway. And two, already knows JIN throws tamptrums due to the Thoma Alan incident?).
But yeah, like a lot of people mentioned, this felt so much like a break-up scene?? Like literal breaking stuff and metaphorically a crack in their relation(?). I honestly don’t see this as permanent though, because I know for sure something will go down next ep related to MC, and I just know like back at the assembly, Jin will be there to help her, like he has been doing. I honestly do think when he cursed after he left, it was at himself and I take that as a sign he regretted what he did right then and there. Poor guy is still struggling on how to show emotional vulnerability anymore than he did to others😭
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
the way you write iwaizumi is soooofkfnr bro #needthat i’m giggling and kicking my feet reading your fics
would you ever consider writing telepath reader x iwaizumi ?
suspicious
— hajime knows you’re hiding something. not knowing you hear his thoughts that would definitely make a priest faint.
iwaizumi hajime x f!reader
c/w: fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff, a bit suggestive
YEAA THANK U CUTIE, ILYSM MWUAH 😚
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
iwaizumi hajime was not subtle.
you thought he was, back when you were first years—back when you thought he just found you annoying, or loud, or whatever excuse you made up when his glare lingered too long. but then the mind reading happened, and oh, oh boy. this man’s brain was like stepping into a room where someone had tried to shove confetti into a blender. sparks, sparks everywhere, most of them shaped like you.
‘i don’t even like her voice. why is it so cute. why is she looking at me like that. stop looking at me like that. no, don’t stop. oh my god, she’s smiling. kill me. end me now. bury me under her sneakers.’
iwaizumi, in reality, was just sitting across from you at lunch. grumbling about your habit of stealing his fried chicken. meanwhile, inside his skull, he was rehearsing eulogies for his pride because your laugh was too much for him to handle.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
it was a little cruel, maybe. having access to his brain like that. you tried to give him privacy at first, you really did. but then his thoughts screamed louder than his actual words half the time, and how were you supposed to resist?
especially when the thoughts sounded like:
‘say something normal. ask if she wants water. don’t ask if she wants to sit on your face. holy shit, did i say that in my head too loud? she can’t hear it. she can’t. oh god she’s staring. smile back, you coward—wait not too much, not that creepy. oh no i’m doing the creepy smile.’
you nearly choked on your rice ball that day.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“you’ve been staring at me weird lately,” iwaizumi muttered once, tugging at his collar after practice. his hair was still damp with sweat, sticking up every which way. “like… weirder than usual.”
you tilted your head, clutching your water bottle like it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing into laughter. “weirder? how?”
“just… like you’re hiding something.” he frowned, squinting at you. his expression was serious, but inside?
‘sure she’s hiding something. she’s hiding a boyfriend. she’s gotta be. who wouldn’t date her? she’s gorgeous. she’s smart. she’s so sweet it makes me sick. god, if she ever dates someone else i’ll actually—’
“iwa.” you cut him off before his mental spiral could reach ‘commit arson.’ “you’re overthinking it.”
‘i’m not overthinking. i’m perfectly normal. i’m normal about her. totally fine. haha. ha. look at her hair. i want to braid it. what the hell is wrong with me. someone hit me with a volleyball.’
you had to bury your face in your hands, pretending to wipe off sweat. because if he saw your grin right then, you’d never hear the end of it.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the thing is—you’d always liked him. like, fat-crush-liked him. so fat it had its own gravitational pull. everyone knew it. you thought maybe he did too, which was why he teased you so often.
but now? oh, the truth was even better. iwaizumi hajime was the kind of boy who could throw a hundred-mile-per-hour spike without blinking, but couldn’t handle you brushing his sleeve without thinking, ‘holy shit she touched me. that’s it. i’m done. my life peaked. bury me now.’
and it made you giddy.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
you found ways to test him.
like the time you leaned a little too close on the train ride home, shoulder pressed against his. he went stiff, ears turning pink, but tried to play it cool by scrolling his phone. inside?
‘don’t move don’t move don’t move this is the best day of my life. her head smells good. is that shampoo? coconut? i should ask. no, that’s weird. don’t ask. just breathe. oh god i’m breathing too loud.’
or the time you brought popsicles for the team, handing him one first. he blinked at it like you’d given him an engagement ring.
‘she gave it to me first. me. not oikawa, not anyone else. me. does that mean something? it means something. holy hell, she loves me. we’re basically married. popsicle vows. till death do us part.’
you had to bite through your straw to stop from laughing.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the team noticed things too.
“you’re awful soft on her,” makki teased one afternoon, nudging iwaizumi’s ribs.
“shut up.” he scowled, a little too defensive.
‘not soft. not soft at all. i just don’t want her lifting heavy water bottles, okay? her hands are delicate. she shouldn’t even be carrying her own bag. if she let me, i’d carry her everywhere. princess style. no, bridal style. to our bed. oh my god, stop thinking about that—’
“soft,” mattsun confirmed, smirking.
you hid behind your clipboard, fighting the heat rising in your cheeks.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the more you listened, the harder it became not to let something slip. but you didn’t. not yet. instead, you let yourself enjoy the show. the way his thoughts tripped over themselves every time you brushed his arm, the way he internally screamed whenever you smiled too long at someone else.
once, you caught his brain going:
‘if she ever calls another guy cute, i’ll eat glass.’
and you almost burst out laughing in the middle of practice.
iwaizumi whipped his head around, suspicious. “what?”
“nothing,” you said, trying not to choke on your grin.
‘she’s hiding something. she’s totally hiding something. i’ll figure it out. i always do.’
little did he know.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
by the end of the day, your cheeks hurt from holding in laughter. but also—also—your chest ached in the sweetest way. because it was one thing to like someone, and another to realize they liked you so much it made them think things like:
‘if she ever asked me to, i’d let her step on my throat. gladly. with sneakers on. what is wrong with me. wait, nothing’s wrong. this is love. i’m doomed.’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
you’d been cruel long enough.
well—maybe not cruel, because listening to his brain short-circuit every time you so much as handed him a water bottle was kind of adorable. but still, it was reaching a breaking point.
he was buzzing with it lately, like a kettle left on too long. fidgety hands, restless eyes, and thoughts that practically screamed through the roof.
‘do it today. i’ll say it today. it’s easy. three words. i like you. i like you. i. like. you. okay good, practice makes perfect. don’t mess it up. don’t say sit on my face. don’t say marry me. don’t say step on me—’
you almost tripped walking beside him. god bless your self-control.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the evening was quiet, cicadas droning in the distance, the two of you walking home together after practice. he’d offered to carry your bag. (“it’s heavy,” he grunted, like your measly notebook weighed more than his dumb barbell sets), and now he was holding it like a trophy.
‘look at me, carrying her stuff. boyfriend material. no, husband material. no—shut up, brain. just confess already.’
you hummed softly, pretending to be absorbed in the orange-pink sky. but your heart was beating too fast, too loud, because you knew.
this was it.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
he stopped in front of your street corner. you stopped too, tilting your head.
iwaizumi was staring at the ground like it had personally wronged him. his knuckles flexed around the strap of your bag. his jaw clenched.
‘i can do this. i can. just say it. easy. three words. i like you. i like you. don’t say sit on my face don’t say sit on my face—’
he opened his mouth.
“sit on my face plea—”
he choked. clapped a hand over his face. “…shit.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
you blinked, heat shooting up your neck.
“…what?”
“n-nothing!” his voice cracked. “i meant—uh—i like—”
‘abort mission. eject. kill me now. she’s laughing at me. oh god she’s laughing. she hates me. she’ll never talk to me again. i ruined it. years of friendship—gone. i’ll go live in the mountains.’
except you weren’t laughing. you were covering your mouth, cheeks burning, because oh my god. he really did almost say it.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“iwa,” you said softly, reaching out to tug his wrist away from his face. his skin was warm, trembling.
he froze. eyes wide, searching yours.
‘i’m dead. this is my funeral. her hand is so soft. i could hold it forever. wait—confess, you idiot! CONFESS.’
“so you like me,” you whispered, smiling despite the whirlwind in your chest.
he groaned like you’d just spiked a ball into his stomach. “you weren’t supposed to find out like this.”
‘i wanted to tell her cool. romantic. not like a pervert. oh my god, why am i like this.’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“iwa.” you tugged his wrist again, gentle. “i like you too.”
he blinked. stared.
and then—his brain went absolutely feral.
‘SHE LIKES ME SHE LIKES ME SHE LIKES ME HOLY SHIT. i’m her husband. we’ll have children. FIVE CHILDREN. house with a garden. golden retriever. no, two golden retrievers. a cat too. i’ll build her a house. i’ll carry her groceries. i’ll carry her everywhere. bridal style. she likes me. i won the lottery. no, i won life. bury me now.’
he was grinning. the kind of grin you only saw after he nailed a perfect serve. “you—you do?”
“i do,” you said, almost laughing, almost crying, because he looked so happy you could burst.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
he shoved your bag back into your hands. you frowned. “hey—”
then he pulled you in. arms strong, wrapping around you like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
“good,” he whispered into your hair. “’cause i’m not letting you go.”
inside his skull?
‘SHE’S MINE AGAHWUSQHQUHWW—’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“also,” you mumbled into his chest, teasing, “you really need to work on your confession lines. that was… something.”
his ears went crimson. “shut up.”
‘i’d let her clown on me forever. i’d let her ruin me. she’s gonna kill me with that smile. god, i love her.’
you laughed, pressing your cheek to him, and thought this was better than any cool, rehearsed confession could ever be.
vagastrom hand headcanons because by this point i have deluded myself into believing drawing hands is therapeutic
okay speaking personally. alan has the most beautiful hands out of the ghouls. you can see so much of his story etched into his skin
he has BIG HANDS!! ~22.5 cm/8.9 inches in length... they are veiny as well
very calloused... rough palms...
square fingers + wide palms
his knuckles are scarred pretty prominently! there are a couple smaller ones scattered across his hands
when he doesn't wear gloves a good amount of dirt gets caked around his nails from mechanic work
his skin is so dry please introduce him to moisturiser i'm begging
his hands are WARM. literally the best things in winter. use them as a heat pack. go wild
prettiest hands contender... again...
leo has PETITE BABY HANDS!! ~17 cm/6.7 inches in length
slender, delicate fingers... dexterous as well
he takes super good care of them i think
skin is silky soft smooth supple...
he has one (1) noticeable callus from supporting his damn phone
if you examine them super closely his fingertips are a little tougher from typing but it's like. barely there
his hands are so cold. assuming he's deemed you worthy of making physical contact with him you must protect your neck around him if you know what's good for you
sho also has wonderful hands
they're big and somewhat spidery... 21 cm/8.3 inches in length
i hc that he just has especially long pinkies (cooling sweat ssr card ahem). was just born with it
has a couple prominent veins
fingers are long and slender but strong
palms are rougher than average and quite calloused as well
he has a killer chef's/knife callus at the base of his index finger
there are also some subtle scars from cooking scattered around! oil splashes, stovetop burns, oven incidents...
his knuckles are scarred too!! not as much as alan's but they're there
#they really said “you can’t use wiki as an academic source-use our garbage AI that’s even less reliable”#and you can’t even opt out of it
no but you can FORCE it away. use ublock origin and copy paste the blacklist i made into the filters to be able to remove the bullshit AI overview that google forces. it also removes youtube's forced ads (at least until they fix it)
you can also use the ublacklist extension and use this blacklist of AI image generation websites to curate your google image results
there are ALWAYS ways around stuff. it's just a matter of looking into it and asking around
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
➜ 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.”
Why am I not surprised that Rachel Brosnahan's husband is an insecure little man lmao, the fact that he was willing to throw his wife under the bus and let her deal with hate all bc he's insecure it's insane and what's even crazier is the fact that he is an actor but seems to lack the understanding of what acting is, and now he's so butthurt about his wife doing HER JOB with David Corenswet. It truly disgusts me bc he just turned off comments meanwhile Rachel is dealing with all kinds of bs, including someone saying that the promotion for superman 2 is ruined bc of her and her husband (that's a little much). Anyway moral of the story...men 🤢
For context, this is the comment that her husband liked (he turned his comments off in the meantime):
Superman desperately scanning the street during a fight to find the most morally acceptable car to throw at his opponent, knowing that not everybody has insurance, and loss of transportation can ruin a life -
A wave of incredible relief washes over him as he spots the hard geometric lines and silver paintless sheen of a Cybertruck.
summary: You decide to pull the “Can you babysit?” prank on your very devoted husband Clark — who is so confused, so offended, and maybe just a little bit dramatic about it.
a/n: baby leia again! in tears because of girldad!clark and the ever gnawing longing for clark kent and his children
also: any more funny pranks to pull on clark? you and leia are aging him (stressed out dad forever!!)
more kent family adventures here!
The moment is perfect.
Leia is strapped snug in her bouncer, chewing serenely on the tail of her stuffed (bat)cow. Clark is in the kitchen in full Dad Mode — apron on, sleeves rolled up, gently stirring something on the stove with one hand while bouncing Leia’s bouncer just so with his foot.
You sit on the couch and casually open your phone, pretending to scroll. You hit record.
“Hey babe,” you say, keeping your voice even. “Can you babysit Leia tonight? I want to run a few errands.”
Clark pauses mid-stir.
Turns his body slowly towards you like he had a stiff neck.
“Can I... what?”
You blink innocently. “Babysit. Just for a couple hours. I’ll be back before bedtime.”
He squints, the wooden spoon still in hand like a weapon of betrayal.
“You want me to babysit... my own daughter?”
You shrug. “Yeah. Just for tonight.”
Clark gasps like you slapped him with a diaper.
“Is this—are you filming me?!”
You grin. The not-so-subtle phone camera in his direction gives you away.
“You ARE!” he points at you accusingly. “You’re doing the TikTok thing. I knew it. I’ve seen this. Bruce sent me one last week and said ‘This’ll be you.’ I said, ‘No. I am a grown man. A father. That could never be me.’ AND YET—” He gestures wildly to the kitchen.
Leia, delighted by the sudden performance, lets out a happy screech and flails both arms in support of her father’s monologue.
Clark turns to her. “Did you hear what your mother said? Babysit. Like I’m the backup. Like I’m a part-time uncle who pops in from time to time! Like...like Kara!”
Leia blows a raspberry.
He nods solemnly. “Exactly.”
You’re now fully laughing, tears stinging your eyes as Clark keeps going.
“I changed sixteen diapers last week. Sixteen. I tracked them.” He looks down and points the wooden spoon at your daughter, “I burped you while writing an article. I once flew across four time zones with only one pacifier and a dream. And now—babysit.”
He crosses his arms, staring at you with the full judgment of an overcaffeinated PTA mom.
You finally stop recording and set your phone down. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It was a prank!”
He points at you again. “Tell TikTok I live here.”
You walk over, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his chest. “Okay. But seriously, will you watch her for an hour so I can go to Target in peace?”
He eyes you suspiciously.
“Yes,” he mutters. “But only because she just smiled at me, and I think I’d die for her.”
You reach up to kiss his cheek. “Knew it.”
Behind you, Leia lets out another delighted squeal and throws the stuffed cow on the floor like she, too, is deeply passionate about your betrayal.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
clark kent’s nearly one year old daughter just simply loves to babble. wonder where she gets it from? (spoiler alert it’s her dad) clark kent x female!mom reader
warnings: female reader and barely proof read (i have being an adult and checking my writing! yippy!) otherwise, if i missed any major ones please let me know!
authors note: when i was working today the cutest little baby strolled by in a cart and was just yapping incoherently with a pacifier in their mouth. i was like period, speak your truth babe! (then i thought about clark kent being a girl dad and i melted)
authors note part two: alsoo little fun fact, in this fic you and clark’s daughters name is april because that was the month that the first superman comic was published!
“da-da.”
“yes angel?”
clark’s scanning over the baby food aisle. those big, baby blue eyes of his mindlessly scan the options. he already knows his daughter, april martha kent, would absolutely throw a fit if she had anything with carrots in it. can’t even mix it with peas or apples- she will know. instead, he reaches for pack of six little jars that have cartoon blueberries drawn over them.
“da-da.”
clark doesn’t look up at first, he’s trying to read the simple font on the back of the packaging to triple check that it’s suitable for his baby girl. but, he doesn’t want april to feel ignored. so with his free hand he pokes her chubby belly.
she babbles repetitively, “da-da, da-da,” and poorly attempts to clap her hands.
nodding along as if he pretends to understand, clark reaches around where april sits in the front of the cart, kicking her sock covered toes, and drops the baby food into the cart. a boyish grin widens clark’s lips, full pearly teeth on display. a lot of what april is trying to say is muffled by the pacifier in her mouth, but clark thinks he picks up on “da-da,” and her attempt on saying blue. however, it sounds more like “ew.”
he crouches down a bit, gently grasping april’s foot and rubs the outer part before pressing a loving peck square in the middle. she squeals, trying to wiggle her foot out of clark’s hold.
“are you ticklish?” clark does it again and april squeals some more. a spill of giggles spew out causing her pacifier to suddenly drop from her mouth.
clark watches it all happen, how april stops giggling. her eyes, identical to yours, widen and her little lips part in shock. it breaks his heart when she starts to shake her head, whining, “no, no, no,” and keeps repeating it as tears start to form.
of course clark can’t handle his baby girls sadness, his heart shatters in half! he scoops up the pacifier from where it’s wet with drool in april’s lap, carefully slotting it in her mouth.
“there, it’s okay angel. daddy’s got you.”
he likes to believe april is thanking him but all she really rattles on is, “bababababa,” and continues.
clark nods along, sort of similar to when perry is talking to him but clark really isn’t listening. he begins to push the cart further down the aisle. “hm, yeah. i see what you’re saying.” he hums in agreement as april goes on. when he stops to put some diapers into the cart, he glances at april. “oh, really? the pacifier just fell into your lap? how did that even happen?”
clark’s trying to be as serious as he can, but it’s so hard when his baby girl just talks, and talks, and talks away like she has all the time in the world. his very own adorable chatterbox; clark wouldn’t give it up for the world.
you round the corner and spot clark with his hands on his hips, staring up at the array of bubble baths. he looks like he’s in deep thought, every now and then turning towards your daughter to reply back to what she’s trying to say.
you hear him go as you inch closer, “you know, what’s the point of pacifier’s if they won’t stay in your mouth? i know, it’s crazy.”
“what are you two talking about?”
clark perks up at your voice, his head whips towards you so fast that his glassss nearly topple off his face. he pushes them up clumsily with his finger before he smiles at you. “oh, you know, how pacifier’s are a cheap scam in this economy.”
you arch your eyebrow, unable to hide the toying smirk on your lips. “really? and i’m guessing april told you all of that.” at the mention of your daughter, she stops her babbling and looks up at you. already squirming to get in your arms and of course you obey. the two of you perfectly fit like the right set of puzzle pieces.
clark shrugs innocently, “said it all herself babe, should have heard her. she was quite passionate.” he leans in to press a loud, smacking peck to april’s cheek and she bashfully hides her face into the crook of her neck.
“you know where she gets it from?” you begin to sway from one foot to another, soothing your giddy daughter that won’t stop moving in your hold. trying to squish her face further into your neck.
clark smirks, already knowing the answer. but he can’t refuse to hear you recall his playful tactics before april was born.
“you. ever since i got pregnant, every night you would talk to my stomach even when she was the size of a peach.” you dip your chin to kiss the top of april’s spouting curls, then turning back to blush at clark. the way he stares at you makes your heart skip a beat. you know he loves to hear your retelling. “and i think that’s why she loves to talk. because you do it oh-so much.”
clark leans in closer to you, crouching down so that the two of you are face to face. a step closer and his nose might brush the tip of yours. even his voice lowers, it’s deeply sweet like honey. “is that so?”
you nod shyly, clinging to april as if she might shield the heat rising across your entire face. “but, i don’t mind.”
“you don’t?”
you shake your head and then finally, clark kisses you with perfect ease. there’s no one else in the aisle, or even at the grocery store at all. that’s why you let the kiss linger for a second or two, otherwise you would hide away from the public display of affection. clark knows that. he respects it too. the two of you live a private life for the sake of your daughter.
the world knows superman is married to you, but they don’t know where you live, what you do, or even your maiden name. and they most certainly don’t have a clue that april exists besides your closest friends and family. it’s quiet the life you and clark live outside of the rambunctious adventures superman finds himself in. your very own pocket of peace. perfect.
when clark pulls back, he eyes april staring between the two of you. clark whispers as his hand reaches up to brush away the few curls that fall over april’s face. “hi baby.”
“da-da.”
“yeah, i know angel,” clark’s gaze flickers to your own. a look personalized for you that reads, i love you to the moon and back, before he draws his attention back to april. “we got a little more shopping to do, but why don’t you tell mom your new idea for pacifiers. i think she would love to hear about it.”
