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moonchild1 · 11 months

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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬ DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it?

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you.

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury.

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money.

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need.

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man.

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you.

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

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gffa · 6 months

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Jedi culture & community fics, my beloved! They're a bit of a rare breed for what you're specifically looking for, specifically focusing on positive Jedi worldbuilding, so if anyone has genfic recs outside of the ones I know, please feel free to add them! But these should help scratch that itch for you, each of them has at least some focus on Jedi philosophy or how Jedi interact with each other or the lessons they teach! It's been awhile since I've read some of them, so there might be some that aren't quite as in-line with how I see the Jedi these days, but they're all ones I felt portrayed them pretty positively and they're all genfic (except one that I made an exception for) and all really lovely fics I remember enjoying for the Jedi worldbuilding aspects! And there are some that will make you absolutely melt with how much you love these characters and their beautiful culture, because by god if canon's not going to give us as much detail as we want, fandom will step up. And fandom made sure to not just focus on the disaster lineage--we love Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, we always want more of them, please don't stop writing Jedi worldbuilding with them!--but also Mace and Yoda and Quinlan and Qui-Gon and even some Jedi OCs get some love in these fics, which makes me want to explode with joy to see! So, come cry about how much we love the Jedi with me, I WILL GIVE YOU A CRAPLOAD OF FIC TO READ. STAR WARS & JEDI CULTURE & WORLDBULDING RECS YOU'LL FIND HERE:

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH

MID-LENGTH

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH: ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 8.7k During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ eat well; be well by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & yoda & depa & shaak & quinlan & aayla & cast, 18.6k Or, (almost) all of the Jedi High Councilors (plus Ahsoka) gather to eat dinner together. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & ahsoka & palpatine & yoda & quinlan & cody & cast, 126.3k wip By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ Pragmatics of the Jedi by aroacejoot, ghostwriterofthemachine, loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & jedi, 31.3k A series of fanfiction exploring the consequences and results of the Jedi having their own language, and speaking it still. ✦ light by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & mace & jedi, 56.1k Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi and being a part of their Order means that he is protected and accepted. The war is over and the Republic has to recover from the crimes of the Sith Lord, the Jedi have to figure out what it means to be peacekeepers again and the Clones have to learn how to be more than expendable soldiers. ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ocs & cast, 94.9k wip After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance.

✦ Knightrise by Deviant_Accumulation, obi-wan & yoda & satine & ahsoka & asajj & cast, 89.4k wip "Strong enough to fight the Sith Lord, you are not.“ And just like that the fight drained out of Obi-Wan, the barely scraped together agitation running out of him like water from a broken glass. He looked at Yoda, the other Master already hobbling towards one of the back exits, his presence burning with focus, obviously expecting Obi-Wan to follow. ✦ Make a Brand New End by Batsutousai, obi-wan & anakin & feemor & qui-gon & yoda & mace & dooku & jedi, 118.6k Feemor, Qui-Gon Jinn's first padawan, did not survive Order 66, but the Force granted him a boon: A chance to go back to days before Qui-Gon's death. He doesn't know why the Force picked him to remember that terrible future, but he's going to do what he can to change it. And if he can heal the rift fallen between himself and Qui-Gon, and finally get the chance to know Obi-Wan, well, he's not about to turn that down. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & bruck & feemor & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by orphan_account, obi-wan & anakin & jedi, 61k Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ The Moments That Time Remembered by CallToMuster, obi-wan & mace & vokara & bant & quinlan & garen & depa & jedi, 82.4k Obi-Wan’s first memory was not his own. Rather, it was a vision steeped in darkness and flashes of red and choking heat and you were my brother and the harsh crash of lightsabers striking one another. He woke up sobbing in the arms of the crèchemaster, Master Kitaddik, who was hushing him and gently stroking the top of his head with her furry hands. Obi-Wan hid his face in the soft folds of her tunic and, still crying, fell back asleep. The first time Obi-Wan collapsed due to a vision was not long after that. [Or: in all the various iterations of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life, the Force spoke to him. But in this one, it never stopped.] ✦ Starrunner by orpheus_under_starlight, obi-wan & jedi & oc, 80.2k wip In what would have been the year 17 BBY, Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine is found slumped over his desk, dead to rights and emitting a foul odor. The coroners declare the body victim to a heart attack and the smell a result of a lack of a timely embalming—a bit of bowels humor, the head coroner says with a nervous laugh when interviewed by the Galactic Enquirer.

MID-LENGTH: ✦ 飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & quinlan & yoda & dooku & mace & bant & jedi, 13k The Force is the first language that Obi-Wan learned to speak, the brush of one mind against another. But food is the second language that Obi-Wan learned to speak with, and he talks, he talks, he talks. A collection of fics about food and how food is an articulation of love. ✦ We Will Abide by naberiie, plo & shaak, 10.3k Light. Dark. Balance. Beneath the Jedi Temple, far below the chaos of Coruscant's Galactic City, ancient halls and corridors sleep in silent darkness. Padawans Shaak Ti and Plo Koon are determined to explore them. ✦ What Is My Heritage? by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda, 7.7k Qui-Gon, age 13, tries to find a place to belong. ✦ Coming Home by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda & dooku, 18.1k A story telling how Qui-Gon comes to be Dooku's apprentice. ✦ Master by CJinn, obi-wan & anakin, 27.5k Obi-Wan Kenobi had always wanted to become a Jedi Knight. What he didn't expect was to become a Master merely days after his own Master died. Adapting to his new role as the mentor and Master of the quite unusual Padawan Anakin Skywalker became a bumpy road.

✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cin & cast, 8.5k The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Cave by Ria Talla (ronia), anakin & ahsoka & cast, time travel, 10k Ahsoka Tano, post-Star Wars Rebels/? And there was something else, more important, though Ahsoka found herself loath to do it. Her lightsabers drawn, deep in the labyrinth formed by the stone warriors and the crumbled temple. Yet the words broke certain into her mind. Your eyes can deceive you. Her heart pounded, as though warning her otherwise. But Ahsoka withdrew her sabers, and closed her eyes. Rather than her weapons, she let the Force be her light. ✦ A Candle in the Night by phoenixyfriend, anakin/luminara & obi-wan, time travel, 12k In which Luminara finds a heavily injured Jedi, nurses him back to health, and falls in love. Then they get back to the real world, and she just can't figure him out... ✦ Found Clan by silvergryphon, boba & ocs & obi-wan & anakin & cast, 25.3k wip After the Battle of Geonosis, a Jedi Healer discovers young Boba Fett mourning the loss of his father. Not about to leave a ten-year-old boy on his own, she promptly adopts him with the full collusion of her Padawan. ✦ the heart of kyber by outpastthemoat, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & depa & kanan & jedi, 32.7k Tales of the Jedi: Stories about lightsabers, masters, and apprentices. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & mace & kanan & obi-wan & rex & cast, 10.5k After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye), obi-wan & qui-gon & yoda & cast, 17.6k A few months after being taken as a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi faces a challenge: meeting his Master's first apprentice. ✦ Familes Found by fyrefly, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & mace & plo, 8.2k In a universe where "The Wrong Jedi" never happened, the war ends under different circumstances and perhaps everyone will get a chance at a happy ending after all.

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH: ✦ The Mathematics of Repair by panharmonium, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.6k For raw teachers and rough-edged students building in the rubble: tiny steps are enough, provided they carry you in the right direction. Immediately post TPM, in short snippets. ✦ The Living Force; Parables for Padawans by glorious_clio, obi-wan & cast, 6.1k Since infancy, younglings are taught the Jedi Code, “Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.” Obi-Wan Kenobi learns these tenets backwards and forwards again. But even as a child, he is interested in nuance. And so his teachers tell him parables. ✦ A Jedi's Cloak ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cody & rex, 6.4k Jedi cloaks are made for children. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a year and a half old when he first sees this principle in action. He is fourteen, twenty-five, twenty-nine, and thirty-six when he gets a reminder. Or: Jedi cloaks are weird. Here's a series of events showing why they're made that way. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, kanan & depa. 1.4k Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ For the Future of the Order by thetorontokid, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.9k There are important lessons to be found in the Jedi Temple creche.

✦ Memories of Peace by Margan, obi-wan & clones, 2k It's not quite flash training, but the Clones are used to learning fast. It helps that this is something that they actually look forward to learning, to putting into practice. Obi-Wan teaches the Clones how to make dumplings in the middle of war. ✦ Liberosis by Be_Right_Back, anakin & mace & yoda & jedi, 2.2k The war is over, the Sith are gone, and there is now Anakin Skywalker's secret marriage to deal with. While love is a wonderful thing, some truths are hard to face, and letting go is the destiny of all Jedi. Or: the Council and Anakin clash. It doesn't go as terribly as it could have. ✦ Accepting Emotion by LazarusII, obi-wan & ahsoka, 1.1k Dealing with the stress and anxiety of being a prospective Padawan, Ahsoka Tano struggles to manage her emotions. Obi-Wan Kenobi finds her practicing in the dojo, confidence in tatters. His words make all the difference. ✦ A Long, Long Time Ago by ruth baulding, dooku & qui-gon + qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 5.8k A wisdom tale handed passed down through the generations poses troublesome questions for a line of masters and Padawans, from Dooku to Ahsoka Tano.

✦ Duet by Silver Sky 1138, oc & cin, 2.3k Asha Scarsi, the Jedi Padawan who feels the Force through music, isn't half as good at lightsaber combat as she is at singing and mindtricks. So she's a little nervous when Battlemaster Cin Drallig calls her to the training room after class. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by GirlwithCurls98, anakin & ahsoka, 1k Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently.

✦ Night Shift at the Temple by ReneeoftheStars, oc jedi & cast, 1.8k A Jedi Temple Guard sees all, speaks to few, and has attachments to no one. One must be prepared for any threats that may arise, especially at night, while most of the Temple sleeps. ✦ The Orchards by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.6k When young Obi-Wan Kenobi is injured on a previous mission, Qui-Gon Jinn refuses to accept further off-planet missions until his Padawan's recovery. Yoda assigns the pair an in-Temple mission of utmost importance while Obi-Wan heals. Master and Padawan welcome the change of pace. ✦ Tipping Point by Ria Talla (ronia), adi gallia & finis valorum & eeth koth, 3.3k "I believe that if what's happening on Naboo is allowed to continue, the other member systems will wonder what they owe to a Republic that can no longer protect them." ✦ A Personal Touch by DragonHoardsBooks, obi-wan & anakin, 6.2k New jedi padawan Anakin Skywalker realizes that there is more to being a jedi then he tought. Discovering a completely new culture will take time and effort, but maybe he'll make some friends along the way.

✦ Jedi Parables by Peppermint_Shamrock, jedi, 5.8k Values are often passed down generation to generation through stories, parables, and fables. What stories might the Jedi teach their children? ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & jedi, ~1k The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ a thin thread of hope by wrennette, shaak & clones, ~1k Shaak Ti introduces some cadets to one of her favourite crafts, under the guise of training. ✦ rah kat by js71, obi-wan & anakin & aayla, 1.6k "Aay’shee," Obi-Wan murmurs into her ear, rocking her gently, like when jaieh was off on a mission she couldn’t go on, so her jaieh-raheniel would take turns having her over at their apartments. ✦ Lessons on Attachment by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin/padme & cast, 2.7k "Anakin once told me that a Jedi is actually encouraged to love." She said after Obi-Wan had settled. ✦ Straw Dogs by Cymbidia, obi-wan & jedi & cast, 2.9k An old Jedi Master imparts some wisdom concerning Mercy, Balance, and the Will of the Force to young Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and a gaggle of other younglings. It is a lesson that haunts Obi-wan for the rest of his life. ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra.

✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures. ✦ yellow, you're a dreamer by nightdotlight, jocasta & anakin (& obi-wan), 2.6k Normally, it wouldn’t be unusual, but— Jocasta did not earn her post without listening, and from where she stands in the aisle, gaze fixed upon the back of the young child’s shaking shoulders, she can hear a sniffle reverberate around the space. There’s a child curled up in the corner of the Archives— and they’re crying. ✦ once upon a time (a long, long time ago) by thebitterbeast, barriss & mace & shaak & ki-adi & bacara & trilla & cere, 2.3k The Jedi love children. Children love stories. This changes some things. ✦ not the place that I was born in (doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong) by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin, 5k “What were you consulting Master Obi-Wan about?” “Tea!” says the other Padawan brightly. “I’m performing a tea ceremony for my Master, one that originates from her home world. It’ll be the first time I sit foveo with her!” She says that word— foveo— as if it should mean something to Anakin. It does not. ✦ A Friend Indeed by ExtraPenguin, plo & ahsoka, 3.3k After their rescue of the colonists of Kiros, Ahsoka Tano's Master asks for her to be sent on a mission away from the front. She ends up being sent to the Deep Core with Master Plo Koon to investigate one of the first known locations of the Jedi Order, since abandoned. ✦ In which we burn bodies as bridges by GraceEliz, obi-wan & ahsoka & depa & kanan & ezra, 1.4k Lineage mantras, and the processing of grief. ✦ Five Times Mace was There for Obi-Wan, and One Time Obi-Wan Returned the Favour by wrennette, obi-wan & mace, 4k five of the many times Mace Windu offered Obi-Wan comfort over the years, and one of the many times Obi-Wan returned the favour

✦ as the dust settled around us by thebitterbeast, finn & jedi, 5.2k Bravery has never been the absence of fear. Prompt: There is no emotion, there is peace. ✦ Adi Gallia, Master of the Order by Perspicacia, adi & jedi, 7.2k wip Palpatine didn't expect it. It was too soon for that in his plans: which Jedi would have left the Temple under assault? But Adi had. Ashes in her heart, she had left the younglings and the elders and the wounded for her duty to the galaxy, choosing to stop the Sith instead of protecting her people. ✦ “The Padawan Chooses The Master” by lurkingcrow, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 3.6k prompt: AU - The Jedi say “The Padawan Chooses The Master” Qui Gon lives, Obi Wan is very preoccupied, and Anakin is put into the creche as an Initiate to learn what he can until Qui Gon wakes up from his coma and gets yelled at by the Council. In the meantime, Anakin meets other Jedi Masters and when the Council asks him who he wants to be his teacher, his answer isn’t Qui Gon. Instead it’s *insert your fav Jedi here* ✦ The Only Home We Know by ReneeoftheStars, katooni & petro & ganodi & byph & gungi & zaft & cast, character death, child death, 2.4k The Jedi Temple is under attack. Determined to fight for their home, younglings Katooni, Petro, Zatt, Ganodi, Byph, and Gungi make their way to aid the Jedi Masters in defense of the Temple. But the situation is far graver than they expected. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by Mini_and_Might, anakin & ahsoka, 1k Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. Might become part of a series of missing scenes from the Clone Wars. ✦ Markings by wabbajack, ahsoka & plo, 1.6k In which it is revealed that Master Plo Koon has always had a difficult time putting his foot down when faced with his Little 'Soka. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knigh, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum.

✦ Arrival by CJinn, obi-wan & yoda & jedi, 2.6k Little Obi-Wan was only a few days old when he was brought to the Jedi Temple. His arrival caused some confusion among the Jedi. ✦ The Spire by skatzaa, obi-wan & jedi, 2.4k The galaxy was on the brink of war, and Obi-Wan Kenobi had been assigned a new room. ✦ Room Arrangements by skatzaa, obi-wan & anakin, 2.2k Anakin has some concerns about room arrangements at the Temple. Obi-Wan does his best to reassure him. ✦ Lineage by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, 1.5k Anakin is new to the temple, and he does not yet understand that these are his brothers and sisters, his cousins, his uncles and aunts. He does not know yet, but he will learn, Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire's sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader's identity. ✦ Emotion is our Shared Tongue by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & quinlan & jedi, 2.1k There are thousands of different species, with different languages and voices and hands, but what all Jedi have in common is the Force, and with the Force, they have language. ✦ To Know by Armin_05, obi-wan & anakin & shmi & kitster & fives & cast, 4.8k Nearly all Jedi love learning. Anakin Skywalker is no different. Or, how Anakin found a love of learning and shared it with others. ✦ Shatterpoints and Students by soft_but_gremlin, mace & depa, ~1k Depa always has shatterpoints hovering around her.

✦ Home-onym by virdant, jedi, 1.1k Jedi younglings, like any other children, enjoy playing. Playing with lightsabers and playing with words. ✦ Threaded Lineage by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ezra & luke & rey, 2.9k The journey of a single river stone through many generations of Jedi, allowing the Jedi of the old and the Jedi of the future to be threaded together. ✦ the river and the rock by nightdotlight, anakin & luminara, 1.8k Lightsabers clash, and Luminara Unduli holds her ground. She doesn’t move, doesn’t lock her muscles, just makes herself an immovable object and lets her opponent strain against the lock. ✦ Five Meditations of Jedi Depa Billaba by skatzaa, depa & mace & yoda & kanan & kit, 5.3k What is says on the tin. (Plus one more, for good measure.)

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #depa billaba #count dooku #luke skywalker #kanan jarrus #qui gon jinn #luminara unduli #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post

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mrs-weasley-reid · 2 months

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JULY REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! I wanted to try something out to provide my full and utter support to all the amazing writers I've come across in the form of monthly rec fics (starting this month). Join me in giving them love through comments and reblogs. It really is a joy to hear how you're doing as a writer. It makes up for all the angst we write lol

I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. And the number of fics will depend on how much I've read the entire month. Also, please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+, so MINORS should not be interacting in any way, especially when the authors themselves specify it.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a question unasked by @easy-there-leftovers ↳ SOOOO ADORABLE. I'm a workaholic craze gal, so it speaks to me on a silly level.

✿ missing the happy hormone by @lavenderspence ↳ I'm a sucker for Spencer fluff this month, what can I say? This fic Tina made had my waterworks going on for about a minute because it's so sweet

✿ desk duty by @reiderwriter ↳ All you have to know is the amount of evil laugh I made while reading this

✿ the theory of love by @ophelia-is-complex ↳ Genuine intimacy is quite a challenge to write, but THIS ONE, this one had me in a sappy mood

✿ like nothing matters by @cerisereids ↳ gagged and had to pause the reading so many times because HELLO— had me spiraling at work

✿ the devils disguise by @qlossytbh ↳ I said I sobbed a little bit, but I actually cried so much I ended up taking a nap and felt better afterward. It's all fluff, though, don't get me wrong. I'm just very dramatic when the red devil's on the clock

✿ not so funny by @reidmania ↳ Angsty, that made me wanna start a fight with some random twiggy tall guy. Sooooo good!

✿ cloaked in passions touch by @raekensluver ↳ If you don't like Spencer's hands, you're fucking lying to yourself!!!!!

✿ language of devotion by @gghostwriter ↳ I'm in love with reid, and this fic just had me stumbling back onto his lap like a good gal

✿ this req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ Sorry, I'm not sure what the title is, but it's so adorable and got me to go to work, so kind of a lifesaver tbh

✿ hallucinate by @gghostwriter ↳ Oooo, this one was so cute, hehe. Honestly, I lean towards Spencer fluff lately just because I've been too overstimulated with work this past month, so READ THIS ONE ITS CUTE

✿ it's golden, like daylight by @dudeitiskarev ↳ I actually felt like I was reader the entire time I read this. It's well-written and so adorable and something that should be framed in a museum

✿ much ado about nothing series by @incognit0slut ↳ binged it all morning, and I was whipped !!! It's ongoing, so if I have to wait, so does everybody else

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Aaron Hotchner

✦ choiceless hope series by @hotchfiles ↳ This series had me rolling over my bed on a Saturday. A lot of feelings getting played (mostly mine)

✦ beanstalk by @solardrop ↳ I kid you not; I was giggling like a weirdo when I read it. And that itself deserves the recommendation.

✦ too busy being yours by @hotchfiles ↳ Lari knows how to get a sick gal to giggle. I love bau!rossi!reader. I love Rossi as reader's dad, so I enjoyed it more than I thought I would

✦ ignorance by infatuation by @boneblushed ↳ Oh, this one was a nice snack while on my break at work. LOVED IT SO MUCH

✦ hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi ↳ Mmmm, such a good read! Plus Jemily is there sooooo

✦ from across the bar by @hotchscoffeecup ↳ Evil laugh ensues. A nice cuppa of some good ole kinky stuff

✦ doomed by @hotchfiles ↳ guys, I stopped my car in the middle of driving home just to read it, so it's THAT good. Honestly, I strongly encourage everyone to read all of Lari's works! She's my writer crush, if none of you realized it by now

✦ a bunch of cuties in love by @lavenderspence ↳ hehehehehehe this definitely did not remind me of that one older guy I used to flirt with who had an adorable younger brother that I babysat🤭

✦ schrodinger's cat by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ angst on a Saturday morning is like taking a shot of soju before 11 am, and this one felt like it <3

how about you also comment your top 3 fave fics for this month to spread more love to our great writers?

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jesslovesboats · 2 months

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Hello friends, I am back with more reading recommendations for your agonies! Next up we have the long awaited and much requested Sad Boat Fiction list. As with all of my lists, this is NOT exhaustive and there WILL be great books left off, and also you may or may not like these books! I only rec things that I've personally enjoyed or that come highly recommended by trusted friends, but taste in books is incredibly subjective, especially with fiction. If I missed your favorite, please add it in the comments or drop it in my DMs!

Now that I'm feeling more settled in my new job, I will hopefully have a lot more time to make book lists and do more virtual Readers' Advisory. I have lists in the works for women in polar exploration and companion reads for the HBO War series, but if there's something else you would love to see, please send me a message!

Classics of the Genre

At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver

Media Tie-Ins

Who Goes There? (Filmed as The Thing) by John W. Campbell, Jr.

The North Water by Ian McGuire

Cold Skin by Alfred Sánchez Piñol

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Graphic Novels

Whiteout by Greg Rucka

How to Survive in the North by Luke Healy

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

*this is only fiction in the broadest possible sense of the term, but there is a shiny new American version of this book coming out with a gorgeous new cover and you should pre-order it immediately

Science Fiction

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin

Antarctica by Kim Stanley Robinson

Romance

Under a Pole Star by Stef Penney

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley

My Last Continent by Midge Raymond

Inspired by the Terra Nova Expedition

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

The Birthday Boys by Beryl Bainbridge

Terra Nova: A Play by Ted Tally

Antarctic Navigation by Elizabeth Arthur

*this is only fiction in the broadest possible sense of the term, but there is a shiny new American version of this book coming out with a gorgeous new cover and you should pre-order it immediately

Inspired by the Franklin Expedition

The Rifles by William T. Vollmann

Minds of Winter by Ed O'Loughlin

Solomon Gursky Was Here by Mordecai Richler

On the Proper Use of Stars by Dominique Fortier

Literary Fiction

The Voyage of the Narwhal by Andrea Barrett

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy

We, The Drowned by Carsten Jensen

Inspired by the Classics

The Route of Ice and Salt by José Luis Zárate

Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund

Modern Day Antarctica

How the Penguins Saved Veronica by Hazel Prior

South Pole Station by Ashley Shelby

Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple

Polar and Nautical Horror

Where the Dead Wait by Ally Wilkes

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver

Cold Earth by Sarah Moss

The Deep by Nick Cutter

All the White Spaces by Ally Wilkes

Dark Water by Elizabeth Lowry

The Deep by Alma Katsu

Happy reading!

#reader's advisory #sad boat #sad boat books #sad boat fiction #polar exploration #nautical history #read this

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astraystayyh · 11 months

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Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess : i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter i. to forget

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a car accident. mention of blood and physical wounds. depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 14.8k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me.

a.n: she's here, she's yours, i hope you'll enjoy reading one of the most challenging things I've ever wrote :') your feedback is highly appreciated <3

special thanks to @forlix for going through this journey with me, i love you thank you, seriously, you mean the world to me. and to @dorisnumber1fan for listening to my initial rants about this fic, and all the ones i ever write. i love you and appreciate you so much, more than i could explain <3

quotes series masterlist. next chapter.

Day 1.

You're floating in a dark void, save for the specks of light swirling around you. A peculiar serenity fills your being, a tranquility unlike any you’ve ever known. It’s as though your body isn’t your own; but rather an otherworldly vessel, calmly traversing the cosmos, dancing in constellations with the stars that encircle you.

A sudden electrifying warmth surges from your hand, traveling down the contours of your knuckles, melting into the lines of your palm. It pulsates within your being as if you’re holding the Earth's very core between your fingers. You stir from your ethereal orbit, longing to break apart from the celestial lights, to reunite with your body once again.

The warmth intensifies, causing your fingers to involuntarily clench. A deluge of radiance enfolds you, drawing you into a luminous hole. You squint your eyes, drinking in the light- your first breath.

Your eyes flutter open in a daze, your throat parched, rasping like sandpaper against your vocal cords. White encompasses you yet again, from the high ceilings to the pristine bed you’re lying on. It takes you a few blinks to grasp your new environment- an unfamiliar hospital room. You wearily close your eyes, hoping for the stillness to return, aching for the peace you felt within your bones mere moments ago.

But to no avail; only the tingling sensation remains.

You tilt your head, eyebrows shooting upwards as you notice a hand clasping yours. A figure lies their forehead beside your body, black disheveled locks tickling your palm.

The warmth, you understand where it comes from now.

You attempt to slip your hand out of theirs, prompting the man to awaken with a jolt, surprise dancing across his features as his gaze meets yours. Dark circles adorn his face- testimonies to days of fatigue imprinted upon every feature of his. Yet, all of it dissipates as he gazes at you, lips slightly parted, bunny teeth peeking out. His face transforms into a radiant smile, stirring a mysterious longing within your soul- it brushes against your fingertips before slipping beyond your reach.

"You're awake," he whispers in awe, and your tiredness renders you mute. You point to your throat, hoping that he'll understand what you need. "Water? Is- Is that what you want?" he asks, a touch too eager, fingers running through his hair in sheer disbelief. You nod and he rises swiftly, pouring you a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.

You sip diligently as his hand caresses the crown of your hair, the warmth now traveling to the top of your head. You feel lightheaded as if the blood in your veins has thickened, the very life in you slowed to a faint whisper. Yet, a timid relief emerges as your thirst is finally quenched.

"I'll- I'll go call the doctor," he tells you, his beaming smile unwavering. It’s too bright, everything around you is, and you feel a throbbing headache growing at your temple’s base.

It's a mere minute before the man returns, a doctor and two nurses on his trail. You float within a haze as the nurse shines a beam of light in your eyes. The response of your pupils seems to please her.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor inquires and you frown. You've been racking your brain for an explanation as to why you're here, but to no avail. You shake your head.

"What's your name," he proceeds, lips growing into a thin line.

"Y/n, Y/l/n," you respond, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, as though it hasn’t left the confines of your throat for ages. You miss the darkness; you want to sleep again.

"What date are we?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think of an answer. "The 20th or maybe the 21st September."

"What year?"

"2022."

An eerie silence falls upon the room, a stillness resembling the one of your dreams; but it isn’t comforting, on the contrary, it fills your being with an unsettling dread, one that trickles inside you with each second spent in silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You close your eyes to avoid the sorry ones of the nurse.

"We need to run you an MRI scan," the doctor finally speaks up, tone somber. "It appears you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. But we have to make sure."

It takes time for the words to permeate your consciousness, for the syllables to settle in and start to make sense. Amnesia.

What have you forgotten?

“What…” you chuckle warily, fingers reaching up to soothe your throbbing forehead. “What year is it?”

"It's the 24th of September 2023. You were in a severe car accident two days ago, a drunk truck driver rammed into your car on your way home. You have a fractured rib and extensive leg injury, but no broken bones thankfully. We'll get you to the scan shortly, okay?" he speaks easily as if announcing that you've missed the rain while asleep. As if it’s not a year’s worth of memories you’ve seemingly forgotten, erased in the span of a blink, akin to footprints on sand washed away by the waves. Nothing of importance.

"So, you don't... remember me?" a soft voice quivers, barely above a whisper, and your eyes meet those of the man who’s been at your side, temporarily forgotten in the conversation.

His question is laced with a grave fear, evident in his dilated pupils and trembling hands. A lump blooms in your throat, its thorns pricking at your voice. You aren’t sure you want to answer that question.

"I- I don't."

"Oh."

You’ve never known that a human could crumble in silence, in an imperceptible gasp, so small you almost did not hear it. A crestfallen expression materializes on his face in the span of a heartbeat, features coming together in the rawest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip.

"Who- Who are you?" you implore, urgency inflecting your tone, hoping that he's no one of importance. Someone who helped you when you got into a car accident. Someone minor who you wouldn't fault your brain for forgetting.

"I was... I-I am your boyfriend. Minho," he utters his name like a broken plea, eyes slightly widening to gauge your reaction. As though those two syllables hold within them a myriad of memories, ones you simply cannot forget.

You don't remember.

The doctor was right in his diagnosis. The scan showed unusual activity within your brain, characteristic of post-traumatic amnesia. You listened numbly as he cited the precautions you should take to heal your physical wounds- to rest, not carry anything heavy, ice your lungs, and go on walks. But you did not care for the state of your body, you’ve bruised it before and it has healed in its own time. It will do it again; it is a familiar path you’ve already undergone. But what about your memory? Your mind that robbed you of a year of your life? How do you get it back?

“There is no guarantee you’d remember. There is also no treatment for amnesia. We advise that you focus on healing first. Do not strain your mind,” your doctor smiled, before leaving the room. His silver wedding band shined mockingly underneath your eye. He doesn’t know what it’s like to forget the lover awaiting you at home.

Minho dutifully sat by your side, nodding along to the doctor’s words. He signed your discharge papers and settled your bills before you could protest, and he was now pushing your wheelchair through the hospital's corridors. You didn’t know what to say to him- how do you talk to a stranger who uttered your name with love dripping between its letters?

In the hospital’s parking lot, Minho pauses, squatting before you. His eyes are puffy, red veins contrasting against the pristine whites, betraying the tears he must have shed when he excused himself to the toilet.

You suddenly want to beg for a reprieve; it is too much pain for one day, too much for one soul to bear. But it is only six p.m. and Minho's gaze holds you captive, a new emotion dancing in his brown irises- grief. He's looking at you as though you're a phantom, gone when you are still very much breathing.

“We've been together for eleven months, and we moved in together two months ago,” he licks his lips nervously. “You have a two-month medical leave, and I- I don’t want to leave you alone, while you recover. So, you can think of us as… as roommates.” The word felt heavy on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears brimming in his waterline. He swiftly blinks them away.

Your parents are in a faraway city, so is your best friend. You were the one who decided to move somewhere so far, to flee from the skeletons threatening to spill out of your closet. You don't want to burden anyone. You just want to rest.

You nod in agreement and Minho attempts to smile. It is a useless effort; one he quickly gives up. There was nothing to be joyous about.

Minho takes your hand, gently helping you to your feet. He opens the door to his car, and you settle into the passenger seat. It smells pleasant, an apple-scented diffuser dangling from the rearview mirror. Yet, as Minho closes the door, the scent suddenly suffocates you. Your lungs ignite, consuming your oxygen to douse their rising flames. You can no longer breathe inside, panic rippling in your heart violently, pushing at your ribs, begging for an escape. You open the door, collapsing to your knees as a violent coughing fit overtakes you. You blindly clutch at Minho’s arm and he tumbles to the ground with you.

The ugly sob that had been trapped within your throat finally escapes, and passersby pay you no mind. It must be usual to hear gut-wrenching cries in a hospital parking lot. But Minho seems to care, as his hands soothingly rub your back, undergoing a steadfast path from the nape of your neck down the base of your spine. He’s not panicking and his touch appears to instinctively know how to speak to your sadness, how to soothe your sorrow with unheard words.

You imagine it's not his first time comforting you, and the thought only forces another sob from the depths of your soul, as Minho pulls you up once again. He sits your shaky figure on the wheelchair, closing the car doors.

“We can walk,” he tells you gently, and despite the quietness of his voice, it manages to break through your raging storm. A singular sun ray parting the gloomy clouds.

“It’s okay, I’ll... I’ll suck it up”

"You've been through a terrible car accident, and I won't let you sit here and panic, especially when your wounds are still fresh and your mind is trying to protect you."

His tone is resolute, eyes blazing with determination as he looks at you. You can only nod in response. So, Minho pushes your wheelchair to his house. He doesn’t huff, nor complain about the autumn sun scorching his skin, the effort to push you for the entirety of the road, and then inside his building. He only smiles when his eyes meet yours in the elevator mirror.

He’s tentative as he opens the door to his apartment, hand tightly gripping the keys before turning them, as if preparing himself for a bigger heartbreak, one that lies within what was once his sanctuary- yours too, you suppose.

Minho pushes you inside, pausing near the entrance as your eyes drink in the interior. He seems to await something, perhaps for you to remember the place you’ve called home for the past months. A few seconds pass, and he clears his throat, holding your arm to guide you forward. He avoids your gaze as you both venture in.

“This is the kitchen,” he points to a small kitchenette, where a flower bouquet seems to have wilted, much like the man near you- his emotions now diluted, eyes dimmed as they glaze over the walls. You spot your favorite mug on the racks, one that resembles a fairy mushroom. The sight of it makes your heart clench in your chest. So, this is your home, after all.

You leave the kitchen and walk down a narrow hallway when you stumble on your feet. “Easy, honey,” Minho cautions, and your hold on his forearm falters. He blinks at you before gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” you reply in a small voice.

Minho leads you to the living room, cream-colored sofas with a navy blanket on top, multiple fuzzy pillows scattered all around. A tulip field painting graces the accent blue wall- your favorite flower, two matching slippers rest by the couch, racks of your novels adjacent to his collection of cookbooks, you assume.

It is all the more evident to you that you’ve both lived here, lives intertwining so seamlessly into one another. The place radiates comfort and warmth, but it refuses to penetrate your being, as if you’re harboring a shield of oblivion, ricocheting off any touch of remembrance. You’re an intruder, standing in stark contrast to the inviting coziness that envelops you.

“I like that wall,” you say in an attempt to lighten the stuffy atmosphere.

“We painted it together,” Minho smiles sadly, and your remorse seems to liquify, blending in with the blood running through your veins.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot three furry masses bolting towards you, small paws clawing at your feet. You feel another dent add to your heart, so much you are sure it would blow away at the tiniest gust of wind. Just how much have you forgotten?

“We… We had cats?” you ask breathlessly, eyes widening as you take in the two orange felines, and the gray, much smaller one.

“These are mine, but you also adopted them, in a way,” he explains, crouching down to pet his cats, scratching the sensitive spot behind their ears. He is tender with them and they appear at ease in his presence. You realize you’ve felt the same since you’ve woken up.

“Hey, my babies,” he coos softly. “Mom- I mean y/n- is tired so let’s give her some space, okay?” he quickly corrects, before gently pushing the cats away from your feet.

Minho shows you the bathroom before leading you to the bedroom- it's a bit untidy, worn clothes thrown on the ground, some of your accessories tossed on top of the vanity. As if the room was also frozen in time, awaiting your return to resume its familiar course.

“You'll sleep here and I'll just take the couch,” Minho interrupts your thoughts as he gently sits you atop the bed.

"But-"

"I’ll make you dinner so you can take your medication, okay?” he ignores your objections, adjusting two pillows behind your back to help you sit up straight, just like the doctor cautioned. His necklace, adorned with your initial, brushes against your cheek. “Try to sleep meanwhile. You need to rest.”

“Minho this is too much-"

“It’s not. If you need anything just call me over, I’ll leave the door open,” he says, tucking you in beneath the blanket.

“I don’t want to burden you,” you finally admit, voice slightly raised so he’d finally listen.

“Y/n, I love you.” He speaks so suddenly, fists balled on either side of your body. “And this is what I do for the person I love. I… I don’t know how to not care for you, don’t take that away from me, please. Please,” he repeats, voice faltering under the weight of his plea.

"Okay," you concede.

You can't quite remember that first night, the morphine injected into your veins made you ebb and flow out of consciousness, only recollecting small fragments of the hours flowing by.

But you remember the dull pain settling into your bones, one you knew would accompany you for the following weeks. You remember the thoughts swirling in your mind like a tempest- your near brush with death, how she almost trapped you into her icy hold; the year of memories gone with the wind, as if they were never yours to begin with; and the stranger whose home you are in now, the very one who took care of you throughout the night.

And you can't perfectly recall it, but you swear Minho stayed by your side until the early hours of the morning, warm hand pressed to your forehead to check your temperature, cold tears falling on your arm as he laid his head next to your sleeping body.

Day 2.

You miss being asleep the second you wake up in.

Every fiber of your being aches, as though pain has latched itself into every muscle, its grip unrelenting now that the morphine's comforting veil has lifted. You drag a hand tiredly across your face, tears of frustration welling like dewdrops in your eyes. It's only 10 a.m. Far too early for one's spirit to crumble.

A bright post-it note on the bedside table catches your weary gaze. "I went to drop your medical leave at your work. I've made you breakfast it's in the kitchen. Don't forget to drink your medicine, I'll be home soon"

What home was Minho referring to, exactly? Because this one wasn’t yours, and neither was the one back in your hometown. Were you destined to be a passerby in temporary places, always lingering near the door, ready to put your shoes back on and leave at any moment?

10:03. Still too early.

You find solace in having two months off of your work. You couldn’t bear being somewhere where everybody knew you for months, while your memories of them span but mere weeks. The expectations they would have, the pressure to conform, to mirror the footsteps of your past self was an unbearable burden. What if she was better than you? Made better choices, spoke more eloquently? What if you couldn't live up to the image they had conjured? What if you couldn't face the repercussions of your past actions?

10:07. You need to shower.

You slowly ease yourself off the bed, careful not to put pressure on your injured leg, avoiding even the slightest exhalation. You pretend as if nothing’s happening as you pick up a pair of pajamas that you recognize from the closet – a familiar relic from the life you’ve always known.

It's a charade, you’re aware of it. You're but treading on fragile ice, your pain threatening to shatter the frozen façade beneath your feet, plunging you into the frigid truth at any given moment.

You walk into the shower, attempting to rinse the day's tiredness away. But moving your limbs is a strenuous task, and you can't reach over your head to wash your hair. You let out a dry chuckle as the water runs over your back, splattering across the white tiles.

Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your fractured ribs. Still, it beats, and you cling with all your might to this one silver lining.

Minho has made you pancakes, not the most nutritious meal but the only one you can stomach on your sick days. He's also brewed you tea, a singular sugar cube resting at the bottom of your cup, just the way you like it. Your grip on your fork tightens, knuckles paling. You wish he had put three sugar cubes, or that he made you anything but pancakes, something to reassure you that he didn’t know you so intimately. That your mind hasn’t stolen a love where every detail of you was known.

The door opens, keys clinking on a solid surface. The sound of it tugs at your heart ever so faintly, a distant bell ringing somewhere far- it quiets down before you even realize it is there.

“Good morning,” Minho greets, the corners of his mouth curving upward although his eyes remain downcast, redness tinging its outlines. You look down at your cup, unable to hold his wounded stare.

“Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and for going to my work. I really appreciate it,” you say.

“It's nothing. Your coworkers wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Mm,” you murmur. “That's nice of them."

“Here,” he slides a phone across the table. “I bought you a new one since your phone’s screen was smashed in the car accident, but I took it to a repair shop. Maybe they’d manage to fix it.”

You go to protest when he shakes his head, silencing you. “Don’t say It’s too much.”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips at his accurate prediction, momentarily halting Minho in his tracks. You swallow the sound down as Minho clears his throat, dissipating your laughter into thin air. “I put my phone number there. Also, the ones of your family that I have. Always call me if you need anything, okay?” he pauses, locking your eyes with his. “Anything.”

“It's okay, I really don't want to bother you. You might be busy."

“I’ll still answer,” he quickly responds. “I’ll always answer you.”

There is a certain sincerity that coats Minho's words, one that softens the edges of his letters, making them easier to permeate your being, to sink into the seas of your soul.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Yes, hon- " He inhales deeply, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Yes, Yn?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course.”

The ensuing hours blur into a hazy dance, in which you’re only awakened by Minho’s warm hand on your shoulder, as he brings you lunch, then dinner to your room, paired with the medicine you need to take. He doesn’t talk to you, only carrying out the tray outside when he deems you asleep- as if tiptoeing near your existence, afraid he’d slip into you again, knowing you won’t be there to catch him.

It's nearly midnight when you leave your room to use the bathroom. You pause near the door when you spot Minho petting his cats. You don’t even know their names, you haven’t dared to ask, still foolishly holding on to the hopes that this is but a horrible nightmare, one clawing at your tender skin even after you rose.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” he coos softly, and the cats respond with plaintive mewls as if understanding his words. “Mm. I’m really sad too,” his voice is barely above a whisper, as though it’s a confession he isn’t ready to speak out loud. The pain in your ribs intensifies.

“But it’s okay, she’ll remember us. We are her family, she can’t forget us forever, right?” your breathing hitches. “Right,” he adds softly, as if to reassure himself; to inflate hope in a heart deserted by you.

Day 3.

Minho threw away the wilted flowers, leaving the vase bare at the center of the kitchen table.

You almost wish he hadn't- those lifeless blooms were the sole reflection of your faded spirit within this home. Now everything in the house seemed alive, grand windows ushering in daylight to cascade upon the living space, causing the ivory walls to glisten. Everything, except for you and Minho, two ghosts skirting along the existence of one another.

There is, was, love imprinted in this house. You could sense it though you couldn’t feel it anymore. By the two cat mugs that connect through their tails, your products intermingling with Minho's in the bathroom sink, the notes you found hung on the fridge- some with his handwriting, most with yours, reminding Minho how much you loved him.

Where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air, gone as if it had never existed? Has it turned into something else, lurking beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to remember?

You can’t find the answers, and as Minho finishes up his breakfast, you find yourself longing to ask him about the past year. Who you were and what you’ve lived. But you know it’ll feel like salt on a wound, akin to bringing a mirror before his face, reminding him of all that's been lost.

So instead, you offer to wash the dishes. He refuses, not that you expected anything else given his attentiveness to you.

“It’s only two plates and two cups, I can do it,” you insist, but he just stares blankly at you, before motioning to your ribs, and your swollen ankle. “It’ll be quick, please. I-I want to do it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, gaze softening. “But if you feel pain you'll stop.”

“Okay,” you smile tentatively, eager for the sense of normalcy that this mundane act would bring. You haven't forgotten how to wash a cup, at least.

Five minutes pass, and you suddenly freeze, plates drying in your hands. You have no idea where the dishes go.

This was your home, yet you can't even remember which cupboard holds the plates.

Silent tears flow down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily. You clutch the plate in your hands so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You selfishly wish it did- you were tired of being the sole broken entity in this house.

A small whimper escapes your lips, startling Minho who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He rushes to your side, brows furrowed, concern woven into his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?” he questions; eyes raking through your figure anxiously.

You shake your head as your tears double over. You can feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort, for a missing piece that was snatched from you, the void it left behind pulsating achingly within your being.

“I-I don’t know where the dishes go, and yesterday I tried to w-wash my hair and I c-couldn’t do it,” you admit through hiccups, plate still in your hands. Minho gently takes it from your tight hold, and your pinky brushes against his palm. He flexes his hand at the touch.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should've shown you,” his voice is gentle, reminding you of how one soothes a child during a tantrum. You're embarrassing yourself but you can't find it in you to care.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t p-put them back in their place,” you choke out, head turned down, tears ricocheting off sage tiles. You’ve always wanted a green kitchen. You’ve gotten it and you can’t remember.

“It’s okay, I’ll put them back. Shh, yn, please don’t cry.” He’s slightly panicking, hands tightly fisted near his body as if he’s afraid they’d act on their own accord, reaching out to touch you the way they’ve done the past few months. He sighs softly before taking a cautious step toward you.

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” he offers, smiling tenderly at you, knuckles brushing ever so gently against your cheeks. “Hm? You can sit in front of the sink and I’ll wash it.”

“You’d do it?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There is a softness that emanates from every atom of Minho, flowing from his fingertips, molding everything he touches. You were sure of it as he stood beside you, pouring shampoo over your hair with you sitting on a stool, head tilted back to the sink, your favorite song playing in the background. As he dried your hair with a warm towel, and then settled behind you on the bed, gently lathering your hair with your familiar serum, brushing your strands with care, avoiding any tugs that might pain you.

Everything Minho does is not to hurt you.

You went to sleep with the ghost of his fingers lingering on your scalp, his warm breath still caressing the back of your neck. You found slumber came much easier to you that night. You account it to your hair finally being clean.

Day 4.

“Yn?” Minho calls out gently, his head peering through the bedroom door. “Should we go on a walk? Just around the block, the doctor said it’d be good.”

“Sure,” you nod, glancing at the bedside clock. 9:43 p.m. it reads.

“Dress warmly, it’s cold outside,” he advises softly before leaving.

A few minutes later, you're clad in a gray university hoodie that drapes slightly past your thighs and a pair of matching sweatpants. Minho halts in his tracks upon seeing you, his eyes racking furiously over your figure. He shakes his head, swallowing a growing lump of despair.

“Wait here,” he whispers, vanishing into his room, leaving you fidgeting in place. An orange cat sidles up to your feet and you slowly bend down to scratch its ears. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” you smile sadly and he purrs in response, as if forgiving you for forgetting.

You wished you could forgive yourself too, one day.

Minho comes back, a red scarf in his hands. He steps forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. With attentive care, he wraps the scarf around your neck, securing it in place. His brows furrow as he loops the fabric through and you release a small, shaky exhale.

There is a fog dissipating before your eyes, a misty veil lifted off your irises. In the four days you've known Minho, you always willed yourself to not look at him for too long, afraid of the pain you'd discern brewing over his figure, the shadows cast across his face.

But now, he stands so near that you cannot help but look at him. Wispy black bangs fall on top of his forehead, framing his rich honey eyes. His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, pupils dilated like a constellation-laden night sky. The smooth bridge of his high nose, dotted with the smallest mole; a well-defined cupid's bow outlining rosy, plump lips. He’s beautiful, even in his sadness; with sunken cheekbones and darkened eye circles, the hunch of his back, and the shake in his hands as he gently frees your hair from underneath the scarf.

Was it wrong of you to find beauty in his pain?

His gaze softens when it finally meets yours, his hand still holding your scarf tightly, as if it's a lifeline tethering him to you, one with which he verifies your existence, suddenly so elusive now that it no longer entwines with his.

It must be strange, surely, to grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, breathing in the room next to yours.

Minho smiles at you, his fingers hovering above your head, as though he wished to smooth down your hair. He retracts his hand back, burying it deep inside the pocket of his black sweatpants, physically trapping it, stopping it from reaching it out to you once again.

You’ve noticed his reticence to touch you, even when he wakes you in the morning to drink your medicine. His hand never fully rests upon your shoulder, it is only his fingertips that delicately graze your skin. It's as though he’s convinced you're but a figment of his imagination, and he fears that once he touches you, his hand will pass right through your body, shattering the illusion he foolishly held onto.

You blink and Minho’s already three steps away, grabbing his keys and opening the door.

Despite cautioning you against the cold, Minho doesn't say no when you ask for ice cream, paying for it before you can reach the counter. It's an unfamiliar brand, one that he advised you to try, and you don't regret following his choice. It’s a sweet mixture of vanilla and caramelized almonds, coated in rich milk chocolate- you can't stop the happy smile that graces your lips upon tasting it.

You glance at Minho to find an unprecedented softness coloring his expression, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. It isn't a smile directed at you, but rather an uncontrollable display of his feelings, splashing across his face like paint on a canvas.

You expect him to swallow this mark of affection down, to conceal it with a placid expression, but he doesn't. He only tilts his chin forward, gesturing to the ice cream.

"Do you like it?"

You hum in agreement, a grin stretching wider on your lips. "I do."

"You did too, back then, when I showed it to you," he says, almost casually, as if referring to a childhood memory that turned out to be more important to him than to you.

"You have good taste," you reply, scrunching your nose playfully at him. The smile slips away from his face, his voice somber when he speaks again. "I really do, don't I?"

Walking with Minho isn't as awkward as you had imagined it might be. He shows you the neighborhood- the nearby playground, the hidden flower shop tucked away in a corner and you make a mental note to visit it later. You point at closed shops inquiring about them- he answers each of your questions diligently.

Your accident is never brought up, and you both tiptoe around the topic, skirting the edge of a dark forest where the light no longer seeps through and dark vines cover the sun.

You both refuse to venture into the unknown.

"Just down the road, there is a bookstore. They have really great deals and I bought most-" Shouts erupt from somewhere nearby, loud slurred voices of two men under the influence. Your hand instinctively wraps around Minho's forearm, while his hand moves in front of your body, acting as a shield.

You freeze, letting out a shaky breath. "I- I hate yelling."

"I know," he responds simply, lowering his hand.

He knows you- it is a comforting thought, to realize that you exist beyond the confines of your own mind.

Day 5.

Minho’s staring blankly at his phone, your conversation shining dimly before his eyes. You’ve just sent him a text reassuring him that you indeed took your medicine since he wasn’t home today with you- his three days off work passing by in the blink of an eye.

In his mind, the past week felt like a mirage, a nightmare woven with intricate threads of his deepest fears- losing you, never getting to see the glimmer in your eyes again, and then looking at it and realizing it is no longer directed at him.

He exhales softly, tucking his phone into the pocket of his navy trousers. The salty breeze from the nearby lake grazes his senses, and he closes his eyes, yearning for a fleeting respite.

He purposely avoids watching the sun's descent into the water, which paints the sky in hues of yellow and orange. He no longer finds the sunset unfolding before him captivating, or any other scenery, for that matter, even those he once deemed beautiful. The world, in his eyes, has become lackluster and devoid of vibrancy, overshadowed by a profound sadness he never fathomed would reside in his heart.

He still doesn’t know how he managed to remain strong until now, tending to you, holding your gaze, and breathing near you when you don’t even remember him.

You’ve survived, he reminds himself, you were lucky enough to be able to draw these breaths. The thought of any other outcome sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. You’re alive and you’ll be home, he clings to this truth as he starts making his way back to his apartment.

For how long will this knowledge offer him solace? How long will it push him to face a new day? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to.

It is much deeper into the night, the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Minho has given up on slumber since the day of your accident. He was used to the feel of your fingers playing with his hair, your goodnight kisses planted on his forehead, then his on yours.

He doesn't know how to sleep without burying his head in your neck, your chest, your stomach, wherever he saw fit that day. And he was used to your warmth- the warmth of your body as he pressed it tightly to his, the warmth of your love as you whispered goodnight to him. And the living room feels immensely cold in your absence.

He fixates his gaze on the ceiling, resolute in his effort to avoid scanning the room. Since every corner he dares to inspect serves as a poignant reminder of the life you both once shared, a life whose echoes still reverberate in the air around him. The sound of your laughter, the memory of your annoyed whines when he teased you a bit too fervently. Vivid recollections unfold before his eyes- your tender kisses exchanged under the fridge's light, warm hugs by the front door after a particularly long day, none of you willing to let go first.

He remembers your delighted giggles the first time you entered the house. It was still unfurnished, save for a floatable mattress and two empty cups of ramen beside it. But you were happy, immensely so, and your joy seemed to fill every room, painting it with shades of your love. Now the house feels empty- you're here and yet you aren't, and he is still on the sidewalk where he received that fateful call from your hospital.

The moonlight filters through the window, and Minho looks at the light without truly seeing it. It's as if darkness surrounds him entirely- a bottomless sky where the stars of your affection have fizzled out, so suddenly, leaving him alone to wander blind. He can't help but feel guilty- had he not given you a love worth remembering?

Minho sighs loudly once again, trying to coax the reluctant breaths to escape his body. He pulls himself to his feet to check on you, knowing that you had to sleep upright for the first few days so your ribs would heal properly, which is why he often found himself readjusting your body at night.

He peeks through the door, the light from the hallway casting an ethereal glow on your body. He frowns when he notices you fidgeting in your sleep, eyebrows knitted together. A soft gasp escapes your lips and Minho hurries to your side. He's witnessed your nightmares before and he knows that this one must be particularly terrifying to elicit such startled sounds from you.

“Y/n,” Minho coaxes gently, but you don’t respond. He presses his palm to your shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Y/n, wake up.” You writhe in your place, fear evident in your features, and Minho grabs both your shoulders, growing more urgent in his attempts to wake you. “Y/n, come on wake up!” he speaks louder, and you startle awake, pushing his arms away.

“I’m... Where am I?” you ask frantically, hand running through your hair. A sharp pain seems to surge through your ribs as you clutch your chest, slightly doubling over.

“Take it easy, Y/n. Deep breaths,” he wills gently and you raise your head, meeting his eyes. Recognition shines in them, but not love, not anymore. He never knew affection could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“Minho… I- I remember,” you gasp, tears trailing down your face at an alarming rate. He freezes in place, tongue thickening in his mouth, unable to move it.

“What... what do you remember?” he asks carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“The accident. I remember driving and I… I was going in my lane, I- I didn’t… I wasn’t driving fast, but a truck came out of nowhere and its lights blinded me, and then… it rammed into the passenger seat side of the car and-" Your hands shake as you bring them to your face. “The blood, there was so much blood coming out of me, that’s- that’s the last thing I remember, it was in my hands and my arms and-" You’re wiping frantically at your skin as if erasing remnants of the red liquid only you can see. “I bled so much but I was… I- I don’t-"

“Can I hold your hands?” Minho cuts you off, needing the panic to dissipate from your being.

“Please,” you stutter, and he promptly grabs your hands in his warm ones, intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb soothingly across your palm.

“You are safe now. You are alive and you are breathing and you are safe.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I drove safely, why… why was I hit?” you ask in a small, broken voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of the world. Minho swallows his own tears, throwing them down the pits of his pain. The one thing he wished you’d never remember was your accident, the sight of your unconscious body for those three days nearly driving him insane.

“He was drunk. And he’s in jail now. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t have prevented it."

You remain silent, gaze lost on the wall. “Hm? It wasn’t your fault, right?" he presses, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, unconvinced. Minho reluctantly drops your hand to pour you a glass of water, and you diligently drink it, before curling around yourself in a ball.

“No, you can’t sit like this,” he gently reprimands and you pout.

"My heart hurts. The pressure helps."

“I know it does,” he smiles in understanding, “but we have to make sure your ribs won’t hurt more, alright?” he explains as he pulls you upright, tucking pillows beneath your arms. He grabs a hoodie from the closet and rolls it into a ball, placing it gently on your chest.

“Here, you can hug this instead.” You giggle quietly at the makeshift plushie, but your laughter suddenly morphs into fresh tears, catching him off-guard.

“I’m so tired, Minho. And I’m so frustrated and mad and sad. Is it possible to f-feel all these things at once?" You hiccup, burying your face into his hoodie, soaking it in tears.

“It is,” he hums gently, “Do you think it’d help if you talked to a therapist?” He feels you tense up beneath the comforter. “Only if you want to, on your own terms.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he says. “Try to sleep again, mm?”

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle quietly, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your cardigan. “Do you have work tomorrow?” you ask.

“I do.”

“What do you work as?”

“Computer programming. I’m also a dance teacher on the side,” he adds quietly, feeling a bit vulnerable at revealing this bit about himself again.

“How do you manage both?” you ask in awe and he shrugs.

“My IT job leaves me a lot of free time. And I’ve always loved dance, so it doesn’t really feel like a job, you know?”

“Mm, you must work very hard at it. That’s why your body’s so toned,” you say almost absentmindedly, as Minho lets out a surprised chuckle at your words.

“You think my body is toned?”

“I mean- I didn’t ogle you I just… you know, you wear these fitted shirts it’s hard not to notice your muscles and-"

"You are sick and yet you’re staring at my body?” he tsks. “I feel used.”

“Hey,” you hit him with the hoodie he gave you. “Forget I said anything,” you pout.

“It’s okay, I work very hard for these, thank you very much,” he flexes slightly, and genuine laughter bubbles up from you both. This might be the one thing he misses the most.

You both quiet down, silence filling the room once again, but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, almost as if you're the same person he's always known.

“What’s your favorite color?” you suddenly ask.

“Purple.”

“Did my favorite color change over this past year?”

“No,” he chuckles, “it’s still that obnoxious orange.”

“It’s not obnoxious, it’s peculiar.”

“it’s weird and it hurts my poor eyes,” he whines, covering his face as if wounded by the mere thought of it.

“Hey, what if it can hear us and now you just hurt its feelings?”

“Colors have feelings now?” he asks, amused.

“Everything has feelings,” you nod matter-of-factly.

“Okay then think of the feelings of this bed we are both squishing with our weights.”

“Don’t say that. Now I’m sad for it,” you pat the comforter gently, a slight pout tugging at your lips.

“I think you should sleep,” he smiles and you fake a gasp. “Is my convo boring you?”

“Yes. Now sleep, Yn,” he brings the comforter up your body, sliding away from the bed. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Can you… can you sleep here too? I saw the inflatable mattress in the storage room. If that’s not… too much to ask for.”

"Of course not. I'll be back."

"Thank you, Minho" you smile, lower lip slightly quivering. "Thank you for not being mad at me."

Just how many cracks can one heart bear before breaking beyond repair? Minho thinks he's close to finding out.

Day 6.

The lights of your dreams have returned, but they are no longer comforting, nor warm, they glare harshly, searing your eyes as they announce your impending doom. Each second draws out in slow-motion and you find yourself counting the breaths you inhale, fearing they may be your last. One in, one out, one in, one out. The moment you dreaded unfolds- the truck collides with your car, flipping it upside down.

However, this time, flames rage within. You know that your car wasn't burned, but they feel terrifyingly tangible as they latch onto your skin. The heat becomes unbearable, you are no longer sure that this is just a mere dream. You try to scream but smokey air fills your lungs instead, robbing you of your ability to speak.

You need to wake up. You need someone to rouse you from this nightmare. Minho. You try to utter his name, but it escapes your lips in a strangled whisper. The lights won.

A cool hand clasps your own, yanking you from the fiery dream, dissolving it like sugar in a hot cup of tea. You startle awake to find Minho hovering over you, brows knitted in concern, his hand tenderly cradling yours.

“Are you okay? Another bad dream?” he inquires and you sigh in response, nodding as your head falls back onto the pillow.

He brushes your hair back, some damp strands still clinging to your sweaty forehead. "You screamed my name. Was I in your nightmare?” he ventures carefully, afraid he was one of the sources of your fear.

“No, I… I thought of you, in my dream,” you reassure, although your words seem to have the opposing effect, making Minho pause in his tracks. You’ve noticed his habit of freezing around you as if needing time to process what you just said. You wonder if you’ve ever came to learn the meaning behind each of his silences, what his blinks convey in ways his tongue fails to.

“You are heating up,” he clears his throat, pressing his hand against your forehead. “Do you wanna shower? I’ll make you tea meanwhile.”

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” you nod, glancing at your phone- 3.47 a.m.

Twenty minutes later, you find Minho sitting on the inflatable bed, legs crossed, two steaming mugs of tea before him. He appears drowsy, eyes shutting and reopening as if fending off slumber. It’s almost an endearing sight- the way his bangs fall before his eyes, obstructing his vision, the sleeves of his pullover dangling over his hands, hiding them from your view. He brought the mattress without you asking him to. The attention brings a smile to your face.

“Hi,” you greet softly and Minho looks up, a tender smile on his face. “Hey. Here is your tea.”

“Thank you,” you beam at him, settling on the edge of your bed, legs crisscrossed to mirror his. “I’m sorry that I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Isn't that what sleep is?” you snort and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I was still conscious, you know. I can’t really sleep these days.”

“Is the couch uncomfortable?” you ask, worried, fidgeting with your lower lip.

“It’s not the couch,” he says as his eyes lock on yours, a stare so intense it forces you to look down at your cup. ‘it’s you’, you read in his gaze. You have no answer for that.

“What's your favorite food?” you suddenly wonder.

“Pudding.”

“But that’s dessert?”

“I really like the one you used to make me.”

“I cooked for you? and you liked it?” you giggle. “I’m not really good at it, usually.”

“I taught you some basic skills,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows proudly at you.

“Too bad your effort is now wasted.”

“It’s not a waste if it was done with love,” he pauses, licking his lips. “And I remember it.”

A bittersweet fog shrouds the air- he remembers that memory, but you don’t. Perhaps you will never bridge that gap, no matter how much you want to. The room in your heart may remain forever locked, the gateway to that chamber brimming with your stolen memories. Maybe you're condemned to merely stand before the closed door, straining to hear the echoes of the love that resonates behind, forever just out of reach.

You don’t fall asleep again that night. And as Minho’s quiet snores fill the room, you rummage your mind in search of a pudding recipe, hoping to retrieve the memory he spoke of so tenderly, shaky hands holding his mug tightly. Silent tears trail down your cheeks and you try your best to stifle the sound of your cries.

You want to make pudding. You want to make him pudding so badly.

Day 7.

It’s been a week since you woke up anew. Seven days adrift in a vast sea where waves of your memories lap at the shores of your mind, unable to breach the walls guarding your recollections of the past year.

Minho took you to the hospital for your weekly check-up. He sat by your side as the doctor reassured you that your ribs were healing relatively well, but you still needed time to recover, time for your body to mend, time for your memories to return. You loathed the waiting, the wasted days slipping through your fingers. You wanted a now.

But you kept all these thoughts to yourself, thanking the doctor as he exited the room.

Minho rented a bicycle to drive you around since the thought of being in a car made your anxiety spike. He installed a little seat for you, in that bright, obnoxious orange color you love very dearly. The sight of it nearly brought tears to your eyes this morning.

Minho idly pedaled around, choosing a scenic route, one he knew by heart from the looks of it. You closed your eyes, savoring the last sun rays of the year. Autumn was fading, winter clawing its way into the seasons slowly. You weren’t sure you could handle both the cold and the grief.

Miho took time off work for your doctor's appointment, and you both spent the day around one another, side by side on the couch, a new book in your hands, and an anime playing on the TV for Minho.

You could see him casting occasional, nervous glances in your direction, as you flipped the pages of the book. You didn’t understand why at first.

But then you did.

You only brought it up at night, when it was past 2 a.m. and you knew that Minho wasn’t sleeping either, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. He left the inflatable mattress in the room, no longer waiting for a nightmare to occur. You weren’t complaining. You desperately needed company.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Mm?”

“How did we meet?”

You can hear Minho suck in a deep breath at your question, before placing his phone down, the only light source in the room fizzling out. It made talking easier that way, when only your voices were heard, carried around, as if emitting from two entities that weren’t you both.

“We met… near your old apartment block. I was going to the kimbap place near yours, you remember that one, right?”

You hum in response.

“And I saw you crying, crouching near an injured cat. Some car had run over her leg, and she couldn’t walk anymore. And you didn’t know what to do, so I helped you. You insisted on coming with me to the vet where I take my cats. So, we caught a cab. And you were so worried, you didn’t stop crying, so the cab driver thought I did something to you,” he chuckles faintly.

“Then, the vet put a cast on her leg and reassured us that she’d be okay. And I told him I’d take her home and bring her for check-ups. But you were so worried, you begged me to send you updates about the cat. So, you gave me your number. And we talked.”

“What happened to the cat?”

“I took her to a rescue store I trusted since I couldn’t take her in. and we still visited her from time to time. And then, she found a good family.”

“And what happened to us?” you inquire softly, hoping that if your voice was quiet enough then your question wouldn't hurt Minho as much.

“We kept in touch," he said. "And it was… easy to talk to you, I felt as if I had known you for my entire life. When you found out I had three cats, we Facetimed a lot so you’d see them, but then we just kept on calling, every day, for nearly two weeks. Being with you felt natural, you know? I didn’t overthink it. I never did."

“And then three weeks later you came over to see Soonie, Dori, and Doongie. We ended up watching three movies in a row, and you were so tired you slept on my couch.”

“That’s embarrassing,” you chuckle.

"Yes," he laughs and you reach over to swat his shoulder playfully. "But it was also cute, and endearing. Then you came over a lot, and we just cooked together. Well, I cooked and you watched.”

“Right, that sounds more like me," you instantly agree.

“We hung outside too, whenever one of us had free time. We had a lot of common hobbies and interests so we never ran out of things to talk about. We made time for each other too.”

“How did we start dating?”

“You made the first move.”

“I did?” you shoot up from your place, hissing when the abrupt movement causes a twinge of pain in your ribs.

“Take it easy,” he giggles, as he illuminates your face with his flashlight. “You did.”

“Did you put a spell on me? I swore I’d never make a first move again after I was rejected in third grade. That was my most sacred oath."

“Well… you were ranting about this book. The one you were reading today,” he adds, and your excitement fizzles out, as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “You were sad because you had no one to talk to about it. So, I bought the book and read it. I gave you my copy, complete with highlighted passages and notes. And when I did… you kissed me, without warning,” his voice is softer now, as he fiddles with the tip of his blushing ears. "You said it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you.”

“It was. It is,” you whisper, heart caught in your throat. “I saw the photograph of us both lodged between the pages of the book. Did we take it that day?”

“Yes, we weren’t dating, not yet. Because I told you I wanted to take you out on a proper date. But you wanted us to take a picture holding the book… So you’d remember.”

“So I'd remember,” you repeat, voice quivering. What good was it for in the end?

“I looked so happy in the photograph,” you whisper, tears welling up your eyes. “I looked so happy with you,” your voice breaks as you utter that last part. "Did I love you, Minho?"

"You did," he nods softly, blinking away his own tears.

“And did you love me?”

“I did. I still do, very much.”

“Thank you, for loving me. It sounds like I’ve lived a happy year with you.”

Minho's pain is akin to a polite guest; it lingers by the corner, speaking in whispers, hardly ever raising its voice. You'd never really notice it, unless you strain your ears, as you're doing now. Only then would you discern the tremors of his quiet sobs- broken, stifled, determined not to make themselves known, only escaping his lips when he thinks you've fallen asleep.

Day 8.

Whenever an overwhelming emotion ran freely along the corridors of your soul, you'd often find yourself curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to your chest, like a fragile leaf.

Your teacher once explained that it reminds us of safer times in the wombs of our mothers, when the cruelty of life hasn’t yet reached us.

It is the way you’re resting now, upon the cold, hardwood floor, dozens of books surrounding you. You decided to go through each book in Minho’s library, the need to satiate your curiosity overtaking you. You didn’t know what you were looking for, exactly. Other photographs, surely, in the hopes that one of them would spark up your memory, ignite the flame of remembrance.

What you didn’t expect was to find Minho talking to you through books. Within the pages, amid the words, scribbled in small, dainty handwriting, threads of his thoughts all relating to you. Quotes he thought you’d appreciate, highlighted segments that reminded him of you. And dedications, so many dedicated lines you felt like you could drown in them. It felt as if Minho was on a quest to find love within every line, only to inscribe your name beside it.

Putting down the last book, you were left with a huge void, akin to a black hole eating away at your heart. So, you laid on the floor, one arm underneath your head, knees held tightly to your chest- as if trying to create borders for your sadness, to stop it from spilling out of your body, drowning the house in even more sorrow. Those four walls have had enough, more than they could contain. And so did you.

You suddenly longed for the very beginning of your life, when time was but a tranquil stream, when you were unaware of the hurtful years it would carve into your existence. Back to when your spine was still curled around itself; for it was never meant to be straightened. Your spine was never strong enough to bear your pain.

You wanted to talk to someone, but you didn’t know who you could turn to. You didn’t know how to articulate these emotions into words, tangible enough for someone to understand them. And you couldn’t talk to Minho about it, not when he was hurting on his own.

Because he smiled down at his cats, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. His laughter echoed around the room when he talked to his friends on the phone. And sometimes, he even hummed under his breath while making you breakfast. But this happiness never reached his eyes, behind his pupils the sadness seared itself into his veins, casting a gloomy shadow that followed him everywhere he went. It was a palpable ache, one that filled the very atmosphere with the metallic taste of grief. Making it almost impossible for you to breathe in. Even more so when you remember it was all your fault.

These are the thoughts that haunted you all day, as they have been doing for the past week. Minho must have noticed that you were feeling gloomier than usual, a silent storm raging by his side, since he put up a romcom for you. “It made you laugh a lot when you watched it months ago.”

“How do you remember all of these things about me?” you ponder, scratching the fragile skin near your nails, easily torn, just like you.

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I stop?” he asks quietly, deflecting your question.

“No,” you say the truth. “It'd be weird if you were an actual stranger, but… you knew me. And I knew you. and I still feel safe around you.”

He nods silently, but something in his gaze compels you to keep talking.

“I mean, I never felt uncomfortable around you these days, which surprised me too. I just… I suppose that even if my mind doesn’t remember, my heart does, in a way?”

“My heart will always remember you,” he whispers, gaze adrift in a faraway memory.

A gear shifts in your mind, a sudden light flooding your vision. You find yourself within a grand canopy bed, its pure white curtains swaying to the rhythm of a whimsical breeze, their delicate fabric brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slightly cold from the wide-open windows, but then it’s warm, as a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh, kindling an ember deep within, setting your very soul ablaze.

The curtains sway with the wind, obscuring your view, but you can still discern the sound of your laughter, echoing like distant chimes. And a tenderness, so delicate it seemed almost otherworldly, trailing along your skin, as warmth caresses your cheek and gently traverses the curve of your collarbones, peppering it with the softest kisses. You can't quite behold it, but it is unmistakably there, an ineffable presence that threatens to burst your heart at the seams—a memory of your love for Minho.

It is a blurry sight, like peering into a worn-out photograph, its details softened by the sands of time. But you clutch to it- to your fading laughter and hushed conversation, and then your voice ringing clearly in your mind, the promise you made to Minho.

'My heart will always remember you'.

You startle back in a jolt; the light and warmth have extinguished. They are now dull, withered down, sitting next to you with their head hung low.

It takes you an inhumane effort to swallow down the lump in your throat.

Day 16.

This week has been particularly cold. Not temperature-wise, October has always harbored these same frigid temperatures and you've gotten used to them, to the relentless winds brushing against your skin. Only this time they pierced right through your soul instead.

You knew what had changed. You had felt the sadness, the frustration, the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful symphony, pulling at your heartstrings the way one does to a harp. Yet, amid these familiar emotions, a new feeling loomed large this past week- anxiety.

It arrived in sudden, icy bursts, cold beads of perspiration cascading down your spine, feet suddenly freezing no matter how fuzzy your socks were- the physical telltales, then came the emotional ones. The shadows of dread, for we fear the unseen more than that which we can touch. The growing panic gnawing at your heart, hinting that something profoundly disastrous lurked on the horizon.

Anxiety held you suspended in the air, bound by invisible ropes that compelled you to watch from above as the days drifted past you. You were a ghost haunting an empty shell, hollow and resonant with anxiety's clang, akin to an empty can's descent to the ground.

Your appetite had fled, leaving you alone to grapple with the chore of feeding yourself, mechanically ingesting food only to pacify Minho’s concerned gaze. The TV’s volume blared, since you desperately needed the voices of other people to invade your mind, to render your thoughts merciless, forcing them to put their sword-like tongues down.

And the exhaustion, not accounted to your broken ribs, for Minho had meticulously overseen their recovery. It was an emotional fatigue, a weariness that clung to your every breath, trapping them within your ribcage, far beyond their time, until they tethered on the brink of exploding in your lungs- a supernova of darkness devouring your essence. Only then did the breaths release their hold on you.

So, you patiently awaited the inevitable unraveling, because you knew this wasn’t an ordinary anxiety. Your soul whispered to you in a language your mind could no longer translate, throbbing with a message you couldn’t quite recollect, striving urgently to jog your memory of a monumental truth.

But you didn’t remember– you should have.

You should've known it was Minho’s birthday.

It is near midnight when you venture out of your room, the inflatable bed by your side unusually vacant. A dim glow draws you to the kitchen, and as you stand by its entrance, an intensified cold grips you. It chills the blood in your veins, transforming it into splintered shards that prick uncomfortably beneath your skin.

Minho is sitting by the table, a small, muted cake before him, a shoebox by his side. A solitary candle flickers in front of his face, casting elongating shadows on his chiseled features. The flame is about to fizzle out- you feel like your heart will closely follow suit.

"Minho..." you call out gently, careful not to startle him from the trance ensnaring him. He doesn't react to the sound of your voice.

"Minho, I…"

"Today was my birthday."

His tone is cold, like the darkening clouds before a stormy night. His words feel like lightning bolts piercing your core.

"It would be stupid to blow this candle out, wouldn't it? Because you and I both know my wish won't come true. Maybe it never will. And it's killing me, yn." His voice quivers as it utters your name, a slight shake taking over his lips. His cheeks are tear stained- glimmering reflections under the golden flame. You've never seen him this sad. You don't know how to comfort him in his sadness.

A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion, methodically, until your heart transforms into a tranquil organ, solely pulsing life's crimson essence through your frame. Nothing more, nothing less.

"This shoe box is yours. You kept it under the bed, filled it with everything that reminded you of me. You told me..." he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "You told me that you wanted to remember everything about us, every single detail. But I... I don't care if you don't remember every date we went to. I just-" his forehead rests on his palm, as he squeezes his eyes shut. "I just want you to remember that you love me."

Hot tears are rolling across his cheeks, splattering across the table like a broken mosaic. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. He's had enough.

"Minho, I’m-"

"I mean- that's not too much to ask for, right?" he finally lifts his head, locking his eyes with yours. A black abyss, a dark void. You are the one who sucked out all the light.

"You- you said you loved me. And I- I felt it, y/n, when you looked at me, when you touched me. I felt it, it wasn't- it wasn't just words, I-" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at his black locks furiously. "You loved me," his voice breaks. "Why- why can't you remember that you loved me?"

Your tongue bursts to flame in your mouth, its grey ashes choking you from within. What could you even say? How do you stop the bleeding of a heart when you carry knives for fingers?

Minho abruptly stands up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "We talked about marriage, a-about kids, you said- you said you'd choose me to be the father of your children, you said you wanted a big house w-with me and you-” he points at you, chest heaving, eyes rimmed red. “You said you wanted us to sit at the patio when we're eighty and you wanted us to hold hands still," he chuckles bitterly, his arms falling limp by his side incredulously. "And now you don't even remember me."

He grabs the box, rummaging through its contents furiously. "You see this?" he waves dried flowers before your eyes, their petals falling to the floor from the force of his agitation. "These are the flowers I got you for our first date. You dried them and put them here because you- you said you wanted to preserve it, to remember."

"And this, the cinema tickets from our first movie date. You were so tired you just slept on my shoulder all the time and then I- I carried you home and you kissed me." He's growing more frantic, rifling through the shoe box in a frenzy. You remain rooted by the kitchen's entrance, a sense of powerlessness holding you captive, an unbreakable vice around your being.

"This is the napkin from our favorite cat café, and look," he grabs your hand, clammy palm pressed to yours, pulling you toward the table." This is the receipt of the first time we went grocery shopping together and-" he waves it in the air, before slamming it onto the table. "And, you e-even kept this stupid rock I gave you right before I told you I love you for the first time, because you said it was the happiest day of your life, my god Yn how can you not remember?"

A broken, sob-laden chuckle escapes his lips, a sound so heart wrenchingly human, so painfully poignant that for an instant, it fills you with a bitter aversion to your own humanity- it was never meant to inflict this much pain upon someone else.

Your thoughts shatter as Minho tenderly cups your face, urging you to confront his turbulent gaze. He seeks something within your eyes, and you desperately hope he'd find it, whatever it may be, anything to stop the tremor in his hands as they anchor you in place.

"Why did you- why did you keep all of this if not to remember me.” He asks, unblinking, lip quivering. “Please, please, remember me, just- just try, okay?"

"I’m so sorry-"

"No. No. Don't- don't apologize like it's final like you could never love me again," his hands glide to your shoulders, shaking you slightly in place. "Don't you understand? I-I don't want an apology I want you to remember me."

"Minho..."

"Just look through this, it's our happiest memories y/n, okay?" he let goes of you, circling the table before shoving the box into your hands. He smiles- attempts to, it is an unnatural presence amidst his tears, so out of place it sends shivers down your spine. "Look at it, yn, please," he pleads as your hold on the box falters. "I can’t remember us alone. I’m crushing under the weight of everything we lived it’s exhausting me!"

His voice ascends pitch, the end of his words hanging into the air, searing themselves into the particles you breathe. His voice leaves a painful echo on his trail. You’re exhausting him.

You put the box down, taking three cautious step forwards.

And then you hug Minho.

He can't even hold you back, body trembling with the sobs rippling through him as soon as your chest presses to his. He sinks to the floor and you follow suit, arms enfolding his concaved shoulders tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Im sorry, I'm so sorry Minho. I- I wish I could remember."

You want the kitchen to collapse upon itself. There is too much grief in such a small room- it stains the walls like blood droplets, absorbs his cries like a saturated sponge.

You don’t think you could ever sit at this table again.

He finally clasps your back, drawing you even nearer to him. "Can- can you pretend, just today, please? For my birthday. Pretend you still love me."

"Of course. It's okay, I’m here, honey. I'm here."

"I love you. I love you so much," he whispers, lips pressed against your neck. "And it hurts to love you, so much." He brings your hand to his heart. "It hurts so much right here."

He doesn't let go of your hand, softly caressing your knuckles. His breath hitches as his thumb hovers over your ring finger. "I... I was going to propose, you know? I even bought the ring, stored it away for when the time is right. Do you think you would have remembered if you woke up wearing it?"

He knows your answer would've been yes. You know that too, in the matching cat mugs and the book annotations and the way Minho gently held your face, even in the depths of his despair. Everywhere you look, your answer echoes back- yes, the home chants in unison, that's what you would've said. Yes, yes, yes.

Day 17.

In the cracks of concrete sidewalks, tenacious flowers manage to sprout. Just how in the depths of Minho’s pain, small joys bloomed, nestled in the vacant spaces between you and him.

You'd greet him each time he opened the door, your voice resonating through the apartment like the sweetest sonnet. And he would always pause by the doorknob, basking in the sound of your voice that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Your tone still held that same dulcet timber, a golden honey that once dripped freely upon his soul.

But today, Minho swung open the door and an eerie hush greeted him instead. He ventured in, calling after you, only to be met with utter silence. He anxiously checked the rooms, opening the doors hastily one by one. But you weren't there. You weren't home.

Minho felt the familiar tendrils of worry coiling around his heart, constricting it with each passing moment. He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing your number, only to fall into your voicemail, the robotic voice chilling him to the core.

In the past two weeks, you had made sure to text Minho each time you went outside- a precaution you took due to your fractured ribs which came with frequent fits of dizziness. It was a safety measure for one person, at least, to know where you are.

But you didn't text him today. And he had no idea where you might’ve gone to.

Minho tried to suck in a deep breath, willing the fear to relinquish its icy grip on his body so he could think properly. Maybe you had simply forgotten, he reasoned. Yet, he knew that you never back out on your promises. They were sacred for you since they were once senselessly broken.

For the second time in a mere three weeks, Minho’s deepest fears unfurl like a nightmare before him, ensnaring him in a tapestry woven with the bloody threads of everything that went wrong yesterday.

He carried his shame akin to heavy bricks on his shoulders, causing them to hunch forward- a coward, leaving the house before you even rose, and on his trail, your breakfast and a hastily written note. He couldn’t fathom eating at that kitchen table with you, not when his sobs still echoed around those sage walls, as did your quiet voice as you tried to soothe his cries, holding him between your tender arms.

Minho was scared. He was terrified you’d never come back home after everything that had happened, the words he said and the way he pleaded, nearly at your feet, consumed by a sadness grander than anything he’s ever known.

So, he storms out of the apartment in a hurry, scouring the nearby playground. But you aren’t there. The grocery store is next, the library, the flower shop, the cat café tucked in a corner that you may have stumbled on.

You were still nowhere to be found.

A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame him, akin to how he felt when his phone rang two weeks prior- the unfamiliar number of the hospital shining before his eyes. What if something happened to you, a fit of dizziness but no one was around to help? Life doesn’t grant you a second chance. No one has ever brushed against death’s shoulder twice and lived to tell the tale. What if he receives another call?

He couldn’t survive another call.

Minho stands in the midst of the road, clutching his head with a tight grip, desperately searching his memory for the places that once brought you solace during the months he spent knowing you. However, he quickly remembers that you no longer know of those places.

So where could you have gone?

An epiphany dawns upon Minho- the bridge you had pointed out to him from a distance on one of your walks, the first place you claimed as your own in the city. It towered above the ocean, suspended several meters in the air. He couldn't accompany you there that day, bound by a paralyzing fear of heights.

He prays with all his might that he's right.

He dashes towards the bridge akin to a madman, the desperate rhythm of his pounding feet mirroring the urgency in his heart. It looms tantalizingly close, a mere 15 minutes away, and Minho, in a state of disarray, knows he's not fit to drive right now. He was never fond of running, he didn't enjoy the searing ache in his lungs, robbing him of his ability to breathe. But he welcomes the pain today- it means that he's running fast enough to reach you. He hopes, he prays.

Minho spots you from a distance, a mere silhouette standing at the bridge's edge, your figure unmistakable with the red scarf tightly wound around your neck. Relief nearly brings him to his knees - you're alive.

Minho doesn't think as he sprints to you, eyes solely focused on you and not the void beneath his feet.

"Yn!" he calls out from afar, and you startle, snapping your head back to look at him. He wonders what he must look at you, disheveled hair, the wind knocking down his jean jacket. But he doesn't care.

Minho stands before you without pause, instantly pulling you into the shelter of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of your shampoo, a constant through the months of knowing you. He clings to it, to the familiarity of your scent and the way your heartbeat seems to pour from your body to his, speaking in a language only your souls can comprehend. His arms clutch at you tightly, rugged breaths escaping his body, dew tears gathering in his eyes and dropping down your shoulders.

Your arms hang limp by your side, confusion etched across your face at the urgency, the frenzy in which he pulled you to his chest, an emotion you hadn’t known in him in these past weeks.

You tentatively raise your hands, patting his back slowly. "Minho, what’s wrong?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"You weren't home. I- I thought something happened to you."

"No, I just went on a walk and lost track of time," you reassure him and he pulls away, warm hands cradling your cheeks.

"You're okay, right? Tell me you're okay," he pleads and you smile, nodding your head. “I'm okay, don’t worry.”

Minho drops your face, embarrassment flooding his being at his outburst. It morphs to panic as he realizes the expanse beneath—nothing but the vast ocean, the wind slamming into his body, making him lose his footing.

"Are... you okay?" you ask cautiously. "Minho, you're shaking," you point out, a frown tugging at your lips. "Are you cold?"

He stays silent, unable to place a word beyond the stutter of his lips.

"Here," you hurriedly unwrap your red scarf, enclosing it around his neck. "You're shivering, Minho," you grab his hands, rubbing his fingers, blowing warmth into them, an attempt to kindle fire into him.

"I'm not- not cold. I- I’m scared of heights," he admits through a stutter, eyes tightly closed.

"Then why are you here?" You ask, surprised.

"Because you are."

His confession comes out quietly, softened by the blow of his fear. His eyes remain closed, missing the tears gathering in your eyes, the ones you swiftly try to blink away.

"Let's go, just keep your eyes closed. Hold my hand," you entwine your fingers with his, squeezing it lightly to signal you're there, as you walk across the bridge.

You don't let go until you finally regain solid ground.

"You're safe. you can open your eyes," you say quietly.

"You're okay, right?" he inquires again, stepping closer.

"Why are you asking me this when you're the one shaking?" you chuckle, almost exasperated, nothing funny in the sound.

"I was worried about you, and I thought you left… after yesterday."

"Why would you- My god Minho why would you even come running across this bridge? Why would you do something like that when you're afraid?"

"Because I love you," his voice is resolute, soft as a whisper, as he states a simple truth. It only makes yours reach new heights.

"But why- why do you love me? Why would you still love me after everything I put you through?"

"You didn't put me through anything," he shakes his head, and you take a step back, facing away from him. He can see your body heaving up and down, the weight of unspoken words making your heartbeat race. And then you snap.

"You broke down yesterday," you pivot back, pointing at his chest. "You broke down in my arms because of me. Why would you still love me after all this Minho I don't- I don't understand."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I know I probably made you uncomfortable and I shouldn't have asked something like that out of you-"

"No, no, Minho, you don't understand, you shouldn't apologize, I should. I’m the one who hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me. It's something out of your control, you didn't choose this."

“Stop- just stop being so nice and understanding for a minute. I don’t deserve it!" you shout exasperated, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "You can't look me in the eyes half of the time you can't even fucking breathe in your own home. It's now a- a cemetery for our memories and it'll soon become yours too because I suck the life out of you, can't you see that?"

"I'm not asking you to remember me,” he holds his hands up, in surrender, “I was wrong yesterday, you don't have to remember us."

"There is no us!” you yell, hands thrown in the air, “Not anymore, Minho, maybe never."

You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, willing your voice to ebb and flow into calmness.

"I thought about it. It'll hurt less if you don't see me, time will pass and you'll get used to it, I'm not worth this."

"You are,” he interjects. “You don't get to pick for me, Yn."

"Stop- stop talking like this is normal, stop being so complacent with your pain, Minho you shouldn't love someone who hurts you!"

"Then make me stop loving you. Spare me. Tear open my heart and bleed it dry at your feet or else it won't stop beating for you. Don't you understand? If you are near or if you are far, I will still love you. The only difference is that I'd worry more about you. I'd worry if you're eating, I'd worry if you're taking your medicine, I'd worry if you're drinking out of your favorite cup or if you have a spare shampoo in your drawer because you hate running out of it. I'd worry out of my fucking mind, Yn don't leave."

It had been an encompassing sadness that made his true feelings surge yesterday, breaching the myriad of cracks in his heart. But today, it was fear that cast a revealing light upon his feelings, hidden in the recesses of his being. They surged forth in a transparency you were still not used to, the way the ocean throws on its shores the debris of sunken ships, allowing the grieving families of sailors to finally discover the terrible truth.

Still, his honesty, his soul bare at your mercy isn’t enough to make you stay.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just... I can't- I'm sorry."

You take three steps back, before turning your back to him and walking away. A numbness, like icy talons, seizes his limbs, his gaze fixated on your diminishing figure—carrying away everything he's ever loved. Paralysis envelopes his very essence, a haunting realization that the distance between you is more than a mere physical space. You're vanishing beyond the horizon of his reach, slipping through his desperate grasp. The fear of never seeing you again fractures the stillness, snapping Minho out of his trance.

"To love someone is firstly to confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." He shouts, making you pause in your tracks. "Isn't that your favorite quote, Yn? You told me this is what love is about. To place your heart in the palm of the person you love. And your hands are soft, Yn. I don't mind if I'm bruised by them."

"I lied then!” You yell back, tears cascading down your cheeks akin to a waterfall, “Belcourt lied and I lied when I told you this and when I promised that I'd always remember you in that canopy bed-"

"What did you just say?” Minho quickly walks to you, chest heaving. “What canopy bed?"

“It doesn't matter now,” you speak in a small voice, avoiding his eyes, seeking refuge in the ground beneath. Yet, Minho, gentle and determined, cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It matters to me, Yn, please. What do you mean?"

“We were in that white canopy bed, when I told you that my heart would always remember you.”

“We were,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too. “Did you remember?”

“Not clearly, it was really hazy in my mind. But I remember that the windows were open, I was supposed to feel cold but… your hands on me, and they were warm. And I…” you suck in a deep breath and Minho smiles encouragingly, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek.

“I remember feeling that I loved you,” you finally confess. “Even though I couldn’t see you. That's why I said that I'd always remember you. Because you filled every chamber in my heart, so much that it'd still hold your name even if you left it…that's how I felt.” You pause, as Minho forcibly swallows the lump down his throat.

“But it didn't unlock any new memories and I-”

“It's okay, it’s okay. You still remembered,” he smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, plump. Were they still as warm? Still as soft?

“I did…” you trail off. “You also kissed me, in my memory. Your lips were everywhere and… they were soft.” You add quietly, eyes fixated on his mouth, the smile that once adorned it slipping away.

A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. In this moment, a need unfurls within you, a yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint. The memory of his lips on your skin becomes a beacon, standing tall amidst the tumultuous winds of uncertainty. You want to taste the warmth again. You want to kiss Minho.

“I kissed you.” His hands, once gentle on your cheeks, now slip down with purpose, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of both reassurance and longing.

“You did.”

“And my lips were soft,” he repeats, his red scarf brushing against your throat.

"They were," you respond, breathless. His mouth stands electrifyingly close, a mere hairbreadth away, as you contemplate the simple act of tilting your head, closing the tantalizing gap. All that stands between you and the echoes of the love that was is the lift of your head, a movement that could breathe life into the dormant embers of your heart.

"Yn," Minho speaks softly, his words a gentle brush against the canvas of your shared vulnerability. His minty breath tickles your nose, as you hum, a wordless acknowledgment that hangs in the air. Your eyes remain closed, your heart beating loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“Use me. Use me to remember.”

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ja3yun · 7 months

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.4

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), protected and unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), handjob, mentions of alchohol, not many tbh, anything i've missed lmk! ch.4 synopsis: waking up in sunghoon's bed was the last thing you intended to happen. as you confront him about your brothers wishes, he comes up with a solution for the time being but on the night of your award acceptance, he can't hold back any longer. wc: 17.3k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! this is by far my favourite chapter in the whole series. it's just a nice, cute chapter with lots of smut and fluff. it's also the chapter ynhoon stans (me) have been waiting for. i said this on my page but this is the last chapter of pure happiness and after this its chaos and plot so, enjoy!

“Shit, Hoonie, right there, oh my god,’ you whimper out as Sunghoon pounds into your pussy from behind with relentless force, your face buried into his pillow muffles your cries as you approach your 3rd climax of the evening.

You and Sunghoon have been fucking like rabbits for the better part of a month and a bit. Sometimes it's a quickie in his car, other times it's these long, drawn-out sessions like the one we're having now. Since you both agreed to hook up, he's been all over you, like he can't get enough. And honestly, you're just as keen.

Over the weeks, that guilty feeling that was eating away at you has been slowly fading away. At first, it was tough, especially with the whole situation with Minhee, but Sunghoon always found a way to distract you, his touch erasing any nagging thoughts. As you started putting yourself first and just embracing the journey with Sunghoon, you began to feel more liberated.

There's something about Sunghoon that makes you feel completely at ease, like you can just be yourself without any pretence. If you're having a rough day, he's there to lend an ear and let you vent. And when something good happens, he's the first person you want to share it with.

To maintain the integrity of your friends-with-benefits arrangement, you both established a set of rules. However, those rules have been tossed out the window countless times. Take rule number 3, for example: 'No dates or gifts, no matter how big or small.' Sunghoon seems to break it regularly, sneaking little gifts into your bag or whisking you off to the University Cafe for some ‘fuel’ but ends up footing the bill every time, and now he even knows your order by heart.

Rule number 5: ‘No PDA’ was a goner within the first week. Holding his hand whenever you walked him to his car became a habit, in fact, any chance you got, your hands were intertwined. Even at the rink, where you really had to keep it on the down low, you couldn't resist a quick hand squeeze as you passed by him. Of course, that inevitably led to breaking rule number 6: no sex at the rink. Sunghoon might have fucked you in every corner of Belmore by now, including the coaches' office.

As his hands stroke up your back, he moves to pull your hair, eager to elicit every possible sound from you as he takes you to the peak of pleasure, "You're taking me so well," he murmurs, watching as he disappears into you with each rapid thrust, the action almost appearing in slow motion with how fast he’s going, "Can you feel it? Come on, Sweets, tell me what you feel."

"I feel so damn good, Hoonie," you gasp, your hair acting as his anchor as he leans back, driving himself deep into you. "You're hitting me so deep, oh my god."

One of his hands snakes under you to reach your belly and as he presses down you let out your loudest moan of the night. He can feel his cock in your stomach if he puts enough pressure, which drives you both crazy. The feeling of him deep inside you causes his eyes to roll back, wondering whether he can go deeper. Sunghoon lets go of your hair and grabs you by the stomach; the new position allows his shaft to pierce you in places that nobody else has before.

“Shit, I'm gonna cum," You've grown better at not asking if you can cum and have recently started telling him you are. This did not happen overnight, but rather because Sunghoon would stop fucking you if you asked to cum. He wanted you to be able to indulge yourself whenever and however you pleased, without being confined. When he would abruptly stop, it was almost on the point of edging, which you wanted to prevent at all costs, so you began telling him when you were going to climax.

"Such a good girl, Y/N." "Such a good girl, Y/N," he praises, another perk of not asking for permission. Sunghoon always showers you with affectionate words, both inside and outside the bedroom, causing a flutter in your chest every time. It makes your tummy flutter every time; he was so good at it, and it makes you feel seen and valued. There is a nagging feeling inside you that you should tell him to stop because of the things his words do to your heart, but you enjoy it too much, so you keep it off the rules.

He keeps his pace while leaning down to your ear, his chest and torso are sticking to your back with the collective sweat pouring from both of you. His tongue licks the shell of your ear as you clench around him, “Come on, Y/N, cum for me.”

Sunghoon loves to have you come undone before he does, the way your walls closed in on his dick was what sent him spiralling, so as he feels you coat him with your delicious cum, he follows you quickly, shooting ropes into the condom.

Despite his orgasm, he doesn’t stop slamming into you, his shaft throbbing against your g-spot with every stroke, "Hoonie, Hoonie, please," you whimper, completely overwhelmed as stars dance behind your eyelids and your mouth hangs open, a hint of drool threatening.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sweets, can’t stop fucking you like this.” The last time this happened, Sunghoon fucked you for a good 4 hours nonstop, and as you approach your third hour right now, you wonder if you can go any longer and break your previous record, “You want that? For me to fuck you all night?”

If you had a praise kink, Sunghoon definitely had an ego kink—if such a thing existed. He thrived on hearing how he was the best you've ever had, how massive his cock was, or even just being called pretty. Falling for his bait every time was easy because, let's face it, every compliment you gave him was entirely true. "Uh-huh, can't get enough of your big cock."

"Fuck, of course you can't, Sweets. Look at how perfectly it fits in that pretty pussy of yours," he growls, the last spurts of his release filling the condom as he peppers your back with tender, open-mouthed kisses.

As your climax ebbs away, you collapse on the bed, utterly spent. He sees your exhaustion and despite his readiness to continue, he decides to call it a night.

Slowly, he pulls out of you, his condom-clad shaft is glistening with your essence and your pussy matches, looking delectable. To clean you, he brings his mouth to your hole and licks you clean, sure not to waste a single drop. Normally, he would either get a damp towel, or carry you into the shower to rinse you off, but he doesn’t want to wash away his favourite meal, that would be a waste.

"Sunghoon, fuck," you moan as his tongue delves into you, sending shivers down your spine. You sink deeper into his bed, your toes curling involuntarily. If he doesn't stop soon, another climax is imminent, setting off a delightful yet relentless cycle of pleasure where you cum on his face, and he eagerly laps it up all night.

But your sensitive pussy protests, especially after already being pleasured twice today. With a tally of eight orgasms already, your body begs for a respite.

"Just a minute, Sweets. Almost done," he mutters, though he's far from wanting to be finished. Sensing your sensitivity, he refrains from pushing you over the edge, giving two more gentle swipes of his tongue before reluctantly pulling away. Planting kisses along your ass cheeks and spine, he can't help but praise your perfection, "So damn perfect like this, baby."

"Sunghoon, no pet names," you mumble, reminding him of rule 2: no endearments like baby, princess, or angel, all of which have slipped out of his mouth one of two times. He fought to keep calling you Sweets since he has done so from the beginning. He hasn’t ever told you why he calls you Sweets but he’s attached to it, so you let him have it.

“Sorry,” he says quietly but he isn’t sorry. You know this because he’s smiling like an idiot while he scatters little kisses over your shoulder blades.

Finding energy from somewhere, you turn around as he comes off you to clean himself. You’ll never get over how ethereal he is, his body is perfectly proportioned, and his waist does make you jealous though. Why do some men have slutty little waists and you don’t?

You reach down beside his bed and pick up the clothes you wore today, although, you’ve spent more time naked than in them, “I better get going.”

He slips into a random pair of boxers before walking over to you, reaching for the bra you’ve been trying to grab, “You know you don’t have to rush away, we could get some food or watch a movie? The new Hunger Games is on Prime, we could rent it?” Sunghoon was trying to find any reason for you to stay.

Taking your bra from his outstretched fingers, you add it to the pile beside you, still seated there naked. "We can't, Hoonie, you know this," you reply softly. It's a rare occasion for you to linger long after sex, fearing that staying will only unearth the emotions you've been desperately trying to suppress.

Rule number 1: Keep your feelings in check. You couldn’t make the rule ‘don’t develop feelings’ because both of you knew that ship had sailed long ago. You were already attached to one another from the first time you kissed. It was more realistic to tell yourselves to bury your emotions for one another. As time goes on, it’s getting harder and harder, which is why you don’t stay. When it was the first week, sometimes you would stay over if it was late but waking up in Sunghoon's embrace only intensified your feelings for him.

Sunghoon bites his lips thin and nods, placing both his hands on his waist, “I know, but I miss spending time with you.”

“Hoonie, we see one another every day, I see you more than I see my family now,” you say softly.

It’s true, you’ve spent so much time in Sunghoon’s presence that you rarely make it home at a reasonable hour these days. You do feel guilty about missing Minhee’s practices, but you’re scared if you see him for too long you might get that gut-wrenching guilt bubble back into your heart, and everything is so good right now, that you didn’t want to be the cause of its downfall.

"But when was the last time we did something together?" he asks with a pout, sitting down beside you.

"We went out for dinner three nights ago," you bat back.

Sunghoon knows he's being a bit unreasonable, you guys have been hanging out, just not in the way he wants. He longs for those moments when you're cuddled up watching a movie or when he's playing with your hair while you scroll through TikTok, showing him videos the most unfunny videos. He just wants to do nothing with you.

His dejected expression breaks your heart. You can tell he's getting overly invested in this. Sometimes he’ll look at you like you’re the only girl in the world and that’s dangerous.

Truthfully, you feel the same way about him, sometimes he is the only person on the planet that matters to you - aside from Minhee, of course. You wouldn't have a problem dating your brother's fiercest rival if you didn't hold Minhee in such high regard, but sadly, you loved Minhee too much to hurt him.

There was something that you have been meaning to ask Sunghoon but you’re scared it’ll blur the lines of your relationship with him.

Your eyes meet his and you decide to take the leap, “Hey, there was something I wanted to ask you,” Sunghoon takes your hands in his, waiting for you to continue, “You can say no, obviously!” you add quickly, already giving him a way out even though he doesn’t have the slightest clue what you’re on about.

“Ask me and I’ll decide if I want to say no,” The older boy’s smile is slight, encouraging you to ask him your evidently big question.

“Um, do you remember when I was upset and you saw me at the rink?” you ask.

How could he forget, it was the first night he got to taste your lips. Sunghoon nods and you carry on, "And you know how I'm a top student at my university?" Another nod follows as his thumbs gently caress the back of your hands. "Well, I won an award, I think I told you that. Anyway, there's a ceremony happening on the 23rd of September, and I was wondering if maybe you would come with me? I have to RSVP by Monday."

You rush through the words, avoiding eye contact with Sunghoon. Truth be told, you had initially asked Rina to accompany you, but she has an early exam the next day—her last chance after failing it twice. Obviously, Minhee has a schedule so he and your mum are out of the picture, the only other person you want there with you is Sunghoon.

Taking a moment to process your request, Sunghoon mentally sifts through his schedule, realizing he likely has prior engagements but decides he's going to cancel them. He wouldn't miss the opportunity to be by your side as you accept such a prestigious award. "I would love to come, Y/N," he replies with genuine enthusiasm.

Your head shoots up, eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, really? Don't you want to check if you can make it and get back to me?" you ask, taken aback by his immediate acceptance. He doesn't even glance at his phone or consult a calendar. "You really don't have to come, I know Nationals are like 2 months away."

"Y/N," he soothes, running his fingers through your hair in a comforting gesture, "I will be there."

No one has ever simply said yes to you so readily. You're accustomed to being sidelined as people search for excuses not to commit. You have to admit, Minhee always tried his best to make it to your events, despite your mom often intervening. Sometimes you wonder if she deliberately scheduled things to prevent him from attending.

"It's at 7 pm, is that okay?" you ask sheepishly.

"Of course it is, Sweets," he assures you, planting a gentle kiss on your lips before whispering, "Thank you for letting me be a part of your life like this."

Sunghoon's heart races alongside yours, warmth spreading through his body. He didn't mean to voice his gratitude aloud, but he's overwhelmed by the fact that you're willing to share this part of yourself with him. It’s risky in the whole boundary department, but he’ll figure it out.

Your heart would be burrowing out of your chest and drowning him in kisses if it had legs. It's unfortunate that you can't truly claim Sunghoon as yours because he was everything you could have ever wanted. This stupid fucking rivalry. If you could go back in time to prevent them from competing against one another, you would.

He notices that your mind is racing when he looks at you, so he does what he always does when you're acting that way: he kisses you with so much intensity that it leaves you thinking only of his lips.

It works every single time.

"Hoonie," you mumble his name into his mouth, feeling the effect it has on him, "Thank you so so much. I owe you."

A mischievous smirk spreads across his lips. "You can suck my cock in the car on the drive back to yours?" he teases, earning a playful swat on the arm from you, "Okay, okay! What's the dress code for your big day?"

"It's a black tie event," you reply, focusing on putting on your clothes, "It's fancy."

Humming in acknowledgement, Sunghoon begins pondering his wardrobe options, "What are you wearing, Sweets?" he asks, hoping to coordinate outfits.

"I haven't decided yet. I need to go into the city and buy something nice," you admit. You don't have any fancy clothes, certainly nothing suitable for an award ceremony, so you've been saving up for a nice gown. The only problem is, you have no idea what to wear or what you could possibly get with your measly savings.

"Shopping? I'll come with you," Sunghoon offers.

You give him a doubtful glance. "Why?" After all, he has plenty of expensive designer suits in his closet; he doesn't need to go shopping with you.

"For the company, duh," he replies, pulling you into an embrace. Sunghoon often cuddles you like this, his long arms enveloping your head as he plays with your hair. It's both comforting and frustrating, making it hard for you to resist him. "Plus, I can help you pick something out and see you in pretty dresses all day. I don't see any cons here."

You consider his offer. Rina, your usual shopping partner, is often too busy with her own try-ons to provide much help, making her a less-than-ideal companion. Maybe having Sunghoon along wouldn't be such a bad idea after all, it would be nice to get some advice.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you mould yourself against him, "Okay, you can come. I was planning to go on Wednesday," you agree, enjoying the warmth of his touch as you nuzzle your nose against his bare chest.

"I'll pick you up from uni," he suggests with a smile.

Sunghoon has memorised your complete schedule so he could quickly figure out when he could see you, and more significantly, what parts of his own schedule he could change to accommodate yours. You took classes all summer, which was unusual, but apparently, it counted toward your final degree. With events and marketing being such a saturated field, you must stand out. Sunghoon begins to truly understand why you're receiving this award the more he learns about you.

“Are you sure? Yonsei is aeons away, and don't you have a photoshoot for Prada's winter collection in the morning?" you ask, reminding him of his commitments.

It's easy to forget that Sunghoon is a famous ice skater, probably because he's always 7 inches deep inside you and when he isn't, he's the most regular 20-year-old you know.

“It’s all good, with a face like mine, the photoshoot will be done in an hour,” his lips press themselves against yours as he lays tiny smooches on the same spot, his smile growing bigger and bigger as he does so.

Feeling his hands slide under your top and nails scraping your back lightly, you know what he’s going to ask you, so you jump the gun, “I can’t stay, Hoonie. I need to get going.”

"Don't. There's nothing for you out there, and it's cold," he pleads, pouting like a kid.

"It's 23 degrees," you laugh at his feeble excuses. "I'll see you tomorrow like always."

Sunghoon mumbles something in protest, but you know it's probably his way of expressing his reluctance to spend a day apart from you. You and Sunghoon are practically inseparable, constantly calling or texting when you're not together.

He lets you step back and goes to get changed so he can drive you home.

Both of you learned your lesson from the last time Minhee caught you getting out of his enemy's car, so now Sunghoon drops you off at the end of the street to maintain appearances and keep him out of sight.

As he fixes his shoes and grabs his car keys and a hoodie, he turns to you with a mischievous grin. "So about that blow job in the car I was talking about earlier…"

He's an animal

But you’re the one tying up your hair and loosening your jaw as you push him out the door.

__________

Wednesday comes faster than you think and you’ve just received a text from Mr. Ice Prince himself

No.1 Ice Skater 🧊🤍:

1:43pm: I’m waiting at Centennial Hall

1:43pm: 🤍 x

You and Rina are walking together after leaving your joint B2B marketing lesson. Despite being in different majors—she studies fashion and business—Rina failed this class last semester and needs to make it up. You joked that she flunked on purpose so she could retake the class with you, but when you laughed, she got serious. In reality, she did fail on purpose, but not for the flattering reason you joked about; rather, to copy your answers and coax you into study sessions that often devolved into gossip about other students on campus. Despite the ulterior motive, you enjoy your time together, so you don’t mind at all.

She’s in the middle of talking when she pauses, looking down at your phone in disgust, “You’re texting him again? I don’t even text Allen this much.” That’s a brazen lie, she’s just more sneaky about it.

“He’s picking me up,” you reply back to Sunghoon’s text with a simple ‘Okay <3’ and put your phone in your back pocket, “We’re going into the city.”

"What for?" Her eyes are fixed on yours as if she's trying to read your mind. You haven’t led an interesting life, most of it studying and being Minhee’s cheerleader, so now that you have Sunghoon as your fuck buddy, Rina laps up every little detail. You leave the sex details to a minimum because, at the end of the day, that’s no one’s business but yours and Sunghoon’s, but you tell her enough to keep her entertained.

Looking at Rina, you realise you can't tell her he's accompanying you on a shopping trip because it would hurt her the most. Fashion is her entire existence, it is who she is, so if your best friend discovered you enlisted someone else to help you locate a gown, she would be devastated.

“Just lunch,” you lie, which you’re getting better at. Not the best trait to have but it’s been helping you out the past 5 weeks.

“Isn’t that against your rules?” She questions, eyebrows raised.

You frantically try to think, “Uhm, yeah I suppose, but he was insistent.” You forgot you told her the list of boundaries and rules that are keeping this ‘friends with benefits’ deal exactly that, so she pulls you up every chance she gets.

“He’s so annoying. I still can’t believe he had the audacity to speak to me like that at Yeonjun’s party, and in front of all those people!” Her arms flail in frustration, “Like he hasn’t even apologised either. He’s a colossal cunt, I hope he knows how lucky he is he has you to protect him because I would destroy him if I had a chance.”

Rina really couldn’t let it go. You’ve pleaded with Sunghoon to text her and say sorry to her and Allen but he doesn’t think he should apologise for being honest.

Ahead of you, you observe Sunghoon standing by his car, as gorgeous as ever. He had just returned from a photoshoot, so his hair and makeup have been done and his clothes are flashy yet simple. He’s wearing a brown suede jacket over his white Prada-encrusted t-shirt, and the black dress trousers highlight his snatched waist. He's a vision, and you find yourself admiring him as always. Truth be told, you like him in anything - or even nothing at all - because Sunghoon is so effortlessly beautiful, he can pull off anything.

Waving, you gain his attention and he smiles at you, his eyes turning into crescent moons. Rina looks between you both with a bewildered look on her face, “Oh. My. God. You like him. Like, really like him.” Was it that obvious? “And he likes you!” Apparently so.

You shush Rina, urging her to keep it down. "It's not like that, we're just messing around. You know this, Rina," you insist, hoping to deflect any further probing into your relationship with Sunghoon.

Before she can say anything else or coax you into admitting something you're not ready to, you reach Sunghoon, who instinctively pulls you into a hug and plants a kiss on your forehead. "Hey, Sweets," he greets you warmly.

Your best friend scowls at him, scrutinizing the situation before her. Rina is a smart girl; she calls a spade a spade, and in her eyes, there's no way you both don't have feelings for each other. She understands why you won't just admit it and date officially, but in her mind, you're already together, just not acknowledging it to assuage your guilty conscience.

Sunghoon smiles down at you as you cling to him, but Rina's presence brings him back to reality. "Bring her back to mine once you're done with your lunch," she instructs, her demeanour guarded. Her words prompt Sunghoon to acknowledge her, though he can sense her disdain.

He knows she hates him, quite honestly the feeling is semi-mutual - he isn’t the biggest fan of hers, but she treats you well, that’s all that matters. He does, however, plan on winning her over because he senses how uncomfortable you get when they have to be in the same room together, “I will. I brought you something from my shoot this morning,” he says, attempting to extend an olive branch.

Drawing back, you stare at Sunghoon in confusion, but he shakes his head and heads to the trunk of his car. Rina's interest is piqued; she heard from you that he was working with Prada, and her fashionista instincts can't help but be a little excited. Regardless of whether it's from Sunghoon or not, she loves presents.

There are three Prada-branded boxes laid out in front of him, all of which are for Rina. Was it a bribe to get her to back off and potentially win her approval? Maybe, but judging by the look on her face, his plan might just work. "These are all from the Winter 24' season. I guessed you were a sample size," he says, aiming to flatter her.

Rina squeals with delight and grabs the boxes eagerly, tearing them open as fast as she can, just in case it's some kind of prank. Inside, she finds a sheer grey blouse with a red and brown collar accent, a long pleated white skirt, and a matching handbag. Sunghoon even went the extra mile to include the new Paradoxe Intense perfume, just to sweeten the deal.

She holds the clothing up to her body, exclaiming, "I am going to look so good in these! Thanks, Hoon!" Sunghoon can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the use of the nickname.

Glancing over at you, he sees your knowing expression. You understand exactly what he's up to, and while you may not agree with his methods, you appreciate the sentiment. He's trying to make amends, and that's more than most men would do.

Hugging Sunghoon tightly, Rina sways him from side to side, a stark contrast to her demeanour just moments ago. Sunghoon laughs and pats her head, promising to keep her in mind for any future shoots.

"Do you happen to be modelling for Gucci anytime soon?" she asks cheekily, causing you to shoot her a disapproving look, "What? I want the new purse they're bringing out," she shrugs, picking up her presents and sauntering away from the car, "Thanks again. I'll leave my favourite lovebirds to it."

It's astounding how easily swayed she is by a few items of fabric, a fact you make a mental note of for future reference. Once she's happily on her way, you and Sunghoon are left in silence.

Sunghoon shuts the trunk of his car before lifting you up in a sudden move, "Hoonie!" you squeal, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. Despite the suddenness, you wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him as he kisses you passionately. He sets you down on the back of his car and cradles your head, deepening the kiss. His lips feel softer than usual, gliding over yours like butter, possibly due to the lip oil he applied earlier in the day

His tongue playfully teases your lips, poking out ever so slightly to give you a taste, but when you chase it with your own, he retracts. You let out a whine of annoyance and lust, a sound Sunghoon is all too familiar with. He loves it; how you draw it out depends on how much you crave him. It makes him feel some sort of way that he can’t quite put into words.

You take hold of his jacket and bring him forward, taking control of the situation. The world seems to vanish around you with every caress, to the point where you miss the stares of passers-by and their disapproving glances as you and Sunghoon practically devour each other's faces. You can taste the warmth and passion between you every time your tongues touch. He's intoxicating.

But you really need to get a dress, and if you get too caught up in him right now, you'll never make it to the city. Instead, you'll end up with your legs spread in the backseat of his car.

"Hoonie, we better stop," you say, trying to sound serious, but your breathless whisper betrays your true feelings.

"Why?" He asks as he nips at your neck, too preoccupied with kissing you to remember the objective of today's outing, or even that he's on your campus practically dry-humping you out in the open.

"You know why," you whisper into his ear, trying to regain some composure.

His head falls in defeat on your shoulder, and he nuzzles into you, tickling the base of your neck. A smile spreads across his face, "I missed you, that's all," he admits, his voice filled with sincerity.

Rolling your eyes, you lift his head with your hand. "I saw you just two days ago."

"But I always miss you, doesn't matter if it's two days or two minutes," he says innocently, knowing exactly the effect those words will have on you. And it works; your heart swells with happiness, making you momentarily forget your resolve.

Pushing him away gently, you jump off the back of his car, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. Sunghoon simply shakes his head and gets into the seat beside you. Turning on the radio, he switches it back to your favourite station and buckles up. "Where to first?"

"There's a dress I saw online that's in Reeta's. They have one in my size just as you get into the city centre," you reply, going to put the address into his car’s navigation system. As you do, you notice that your home address is his favourite route, followed by your work address and then your college.

Sunghoon notices your pause and furrows his brows, "Do you know the address? I can google it if you want," he offers, glancing at his navigation system and realising what has caught your attention. He knows his way to all those locations by now, but seeing them saved under 'Y/N’s House', 'Y/N’s Work', and 'Y/N’s Uni' brings him a sense of comfort and belonging. To him, it's like having pieces of you scattered over every part of his life, even while driving. He never planned for you to see it, but now that you have, he hopes it's not a big deal to you.

You quickly type in Reeta’s postcode and hit okay, “It says it’s 25 minutes if we take the motorway,” you inform him.

He salutes playfully and drives off to your first destination, a smile playing on his lips.

___

4 shops, and 3 boutiques later, you’ve lost all hope. Not one of the dresses gave you the ‘wow’ factor you needed. It’s not often you go to events like this so you need your outfit to be spectacular.

Right now, you're in a random shop you spotted on the high street. It's not exactly the most inviting place – dark and kind of dreary, with clothes that look like they belong in a period drama rather than on a modern-day street.

Sunghoon is also browsing the dresses. Bless him, he's been dragged around every shop, and while you're about to have a mental breakdown, he's always the optimist, finding dresses that meet the criteria you gave him. You're looking for an emerald green or navy blue dress that reaches your knees, preferably longer. It also needs to have a spaghetti strap or be off the shoulders. You knew what suited you, plus, those were the sort of dresses you imagined yourself wearing as soon as you received the letter about the ceremony.

He finds a ribbed green dress with gold accents, “What about this? It’s kind of emerald, and it would sit comfortably.”

It’s the most hideous gown you’ve seen today, but his little smiley face stops you from being so brutally honest, “It’s not really my style.”

Putting it back, he walks to where you are looking and sighs in your ear, hugging you from behind. He can see you losing patience and will to find a dress and if you’re anything like his girl friends, specifically Wonyoung, you would start ranting about how you aren’t going any second now, "We've still got the Square to check out," he says, trying to lift your spirits. "Maybe we'll get lucky there."

You widen your eyes, “Hoonie, that’s Designer Square. There is no way they’ll have anything within my budget, not even on the sale rack.” the Square was your town’s equivalent to Rodeo Drive, each street was lined with branded stores like Armani, Gucci, Burberry, basically every shop out of your league. You don’t even recall a time you dared to walk near it.

"Worth having a look, right?" Sunghoon's optimism is charming, but you can't help but feel a pang of doubt. With the amount of money you have, you're not even sure you could afford a keychain from one of these stores. Despite saving up a bit from your extra shifts, your bank account is far from flush. £200 might buy you a small accessory or a one-way ticket home on the bus if you're lucky.

Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to argue, his hands on your shoulders pushing you out the door and into the car.

As he drove up to the high-end part of the city, you were in awe, even the street lamps looked prettier here. The people gracing the streets are all dripping in designer clothes, making you feel a bit out of place. It was okay for Sunghoon, he was still wearing his exclusive Prada outfit that would be the envy of everyone here, whether as you are clad in an a-line denim skirt with a purple cardigan you’re pretty sure you got from ASOS. It’s a whole different world here.

He pulls up at the end of the street, parking his Puegoet next to an array of Land Rovers and BMWs. This was definitely not a place made for you, but it seemed to fit Sunghoon perfectly - the clean-cut aesthetic, the expensiveness, it was all him.

“Do you come here a lot?” You only ask because he seems to be guiding you to a specific shop as if he visits frequently.

He intertwines his fingers with yours and swings it idly, "No, not really, but sometimes I get invited to galas and sponsor events. There's a store up to the right that sells dress trousers that actually fit."

You hum in acknowledgement, wondering if Minhee ever gets invited to such events. He's just as talented as Sunghoon when it comes to skating, yet he doesn’t seem to live as lavishly. Granted, Sunghoon has won nationals and even went to the Youth Olympics, while Minhee didn’t. Maybe that has something to do with it.

"Is that where you’re taking me now? To your suit guy?" you ask.

Sunghoon squeezes your hand and stops, "No, we’re going here," he points to the store beside you, and you gasp.

"No way, Sunghoon. I can’t even afford to even breathe in a Versace store." But it’s too late; he's already walking in, ignoring your protests. He holds the door open, gesturing for you to come in. Despite your reluctance, he waits patiently, still smiling. The people in the store stare, wondering why he’s just standing there looking at you. With a groan and a stomp of your feet, you cave and walk inside.

The store is bright and vibrant. Glass panels showcase handbags and other accessories on the right, while an extensive row of shoes lines the left. The shopkeepers and other customers all look straight out of an upper-class drama. Actually, now that you think about it, you feel a little like you’re in a K-drama, with the big CEO as the male lead and you as the poor girl whose family owns a chicken restaurant.

With his arm on your back, Sunghoon guides you past the onlookers and to the dresses. "Look through these, and I’ll be right back," he says.

"But Hoonie, I can’t afford these," you whisper embarrassed as you twist the £2,000 tag from a random dress and shove it in his face to emphasize your point.

"Appease me, yeah?" He pinches your cheek before he walks away, leaving you to scour for a gown.

Each one of them is beautiful and elegant, the detailing and colours blowing your mind. You could never find anything as stunning in your local boutiques. There's one in particular that catches your eye, a sleek ivory dress with gold chains cascading down the sides. It’s not what you would normally wear, but it is stunning.

As you continue to look through, you find yourself unable to choose. Not because they're not right, but because they're all too nice now, and about £1,000 over your budget. In defeat, you go to find Sunghoon when you suddenly see the most beautiful dress you have ever laid your eyes on. It’s nothing like what you imagined, everything about it is the opposite of what you wanted, but it is flawlessly ethereal in every way. It’s a black halter neck dress with an open back, lace detailing throughout, and frills that are the main attraction. If you could fall in love and marry a piece of clothing, it might just be with this. It’s classy, elegant, and perfect for the ceremony.

There's just one tiny problem. It's £1,800.

You’re scared to touch it, but you have to, you need to know what something this pretty feels like. Tentatively, you pinch the top frill and feel it between your fingertips. That was your first mistake because now no other dress is going to compare.

“You like that one?” you were so busy admiring the dress that you failed to notice Sunghoon coming up beside you. Nodding, you don’t take your eyes off the garment, too in love with it. “Try it on then.”

“I can’t. It’s too expensive,” you say wistfully, your heart sinking.

Sunghoon leans in, his voice barely a whisper next to your ear. “Exactly. When else will you have a chance to rock something like this? Let yourself indulge a little, Sweets.”

He’s right, you won’t get an opportunity like this again, and what harm has a little delusion ever brought anyone? You smile brightly and nod, “Okay, yeah, maybe just for a minute.” Sunghoon smiles at your response and looks at one of the workers, pointing with his eyes to get you it in your size.

In a flash, the shop assistants have you in the changing room, which resembles a whole wedding boutique. The gold and white decor only elevates the classiness of the place. How could this be a dressing room? The assistant ushers you into one of the stalls which is bigger than your bedroom. Sunghoon waits outside for you to change, taking a seat on the plump suite.

As you shed your clothes and slip into the dress, you're struck by its perfect fit. The delicate zip glides effortlessly, cinching your waist and accentuating your curves. As you pull up the top half of the dress and tie the bow at the back, although it proves a task because you can’t see it properly, you take one final look at yourself. You haven't felt this stunning in a long time; it's almost overwhelming.

Stepping out, everyone else is gone but Sunghoon who is scrolling on his phone. You straighten yourself and clear your throat to gather his attention.

“Holy fucking shit,” he whispers, eyes widening in disbelief.

His reaction is exactly what you hoped for. Sunghoon rises from the sofa, taking measured steps towards you, arms outstretched in front of him to take your hands, which you happily oblige, “You’re a dream. You have to be,” he isn’t speaking to you but projecting his inner monologue subconsciously.

As he takes in every detail, he smiles tenderly, almost reverently. It's as if the dress has unveiled a new layer of your beauty, leaving him spellbound. Emotion wells up in his chest, and he is completely in awe of you.

Your face glows with happiness. "It's nice, right?"

"Baby, you're otherworldly." Sunghoon threads his fingers with yours and opens your arms so he can get a proper look at you. At that moment, he sees you poised with a grace that can only be described as radiant, bewitching, whatever other word comes under 'transcendental' in the thesaurus. "I mean, look at you." Of all the routines he's done, no matter how challenging, he thinks this is the moment he becomes the most out of breath he has ever been.

You note the affectionate name he's uttered and should scold him, but who cares right now? "Yeah? Really?"

"What? You don't think so?" He asks, bewildered at the thought that you don't think you look like the most ethereal creature to walk this earth. Swiftly, he turns you to face the mirror in the middle of the waiting area. "Look at yourself, Sweets. You're a fucking vision."

Though you do feel beautiful, the longer you gaze at yourself, the more you wrestle with a hint of impostor syndrome. This dress feels like it belongs to another world, one far beyond your own, meant for the Rinas of the world.

As Sunghoon rubs your shoulders, he senses the tension building within you, "No," he murmurs.

You shift your face to look at him, "What do you mean, 'no'?"

He presses his mouth to your exposed shoulder, kissing it tenderly.,"No, as in, no to whatever you're thinking about. You look unreal, and I'm not leaving here until you say that you do." His kisses trail along your shoulders and back as he gently rubs your arms.

"I do feel pretty, I know I do, but do you think it suits me?" Sunghoon's hands untie the bow at the top, and you look at him with a shocked expression. "Park Sunghoon, don't you dare."

Laughing, he shakes his head. "You've got such a filthy mind," he teases. When the neckline tightens against your throat, you realize what he's doing. "And you have terrible bow-tying skills." Closing your eyes and lowering your head, embarrassed at where your mind went to first.

"I mean... I could bend you over and..." His words trail off suggestively, and you feel his hands slide down your arms as he kisses down your spine.

"Sunghoon," you warn, but it doesn't deter him. He continues to glide his fingers up under the dress, ready to pull your underwear down.

"I'm serious, Sunghoon. Don't," you insist as your face flushes a deep shade of red.

He steps back, his presence behind you providing some distance. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and despite the feebleness of your warning, he wanted you to know he would stop whenever you asked, especially after what you’d been through.

Scrunching your hair, he holds it in an updo and brings two pieces of your hair to cascade down your face, “Picture it with your hair and makeup done, your bangs blown out a little like Sabrina Carpenter, I think you’d be the prettiest in the place - but I’m biased because you’re always the prettiest to me.” How did he know what hairstyle Sabrina Carpenter had?

A shop assistant enters and catches sight of you through the mirror, gasping out an almost silent "wow." Sunghoon's smug grin grows wider; he knew your beauty in this dress would be undeniable. The girl fetches two of her colleagues who have the same reaction.

The man behind you turns to them, "I think we need some shoes, don’t you think?" All of them nod in agreement as you swish around, locking eyes with Sunghoon. You’ve lived out your fantasy; it’s time to go. Yet, he’s already dashing to the front of the store, quickly returning with a pair of Medusa '95 slingback pumps adorned with the Versace logo on the buckle. The stiletto is about 4 and a half inches, smaller than what you’re used to, but Sunghoon knows your style and that you’ll manage just fine.

The eager assistants gather around to help you put the classic shoes on and they fit just right. The combination of the heels and the dress was just perfect, like something picked for a celebrity going to the Oscars.

As you stand there in front of everyone once again, you feel a little like Mia in the Princess Diaries with the way their eyes are on you after your big transformation. Sunghoon was right, with your hair and makeup done, you’d be the talk of the event.

Your new makeshift stylist stands there as if he’s assessing you from head to toe. His middle finger rubs his bottom lip as he saunters over to you, his eyes carrying affection and deep thought, “We’ll take them.”

Is he out of his mind?

“Hoonie, I can’t,” your eyes watch as the people in the shop scurry to get everything prepared for you, their eyes lighting up. They must work on commission because no one in shops like Primark would ever work so fast.

“Go get changed, no arguing. Let me do this,” he mutters into your lips, kissing you tenderly.

“I can’t, it is way too expensive and this goes way beyond breaching our rules,” you protest.

Sunghoon sighs and tries to think. You’re getting that dress whether you like it or not, he just has to convince you to let him buy it for you, “Don’t see it as a gift from me but for me. I want to see you accept your award in that dress, so I’m buying it for myself to give to you. Completely selfish of me if you think about it.”

Accepting an almost £2000 gown wasn’t within your capabilities, no matter how gorgeous you looked in it. Your tiny savings couldn’t even pay for the buckles on the shoes the staff were slowly taking off your feet.

“I’m serious, Hoonie. I can’t accept it,” you cross your arms over in a huff, standing your ground as Sunghoon frustratingly runs his hands through his hair.

“Okay, how about this? I will buy it today and you will pay me back. Then it’s not a gift but a loan. See? problem solved.” He was adamant for sure. It might take you forever to pay him back but it seemed like the best option for your scenario.

Nodding, you relax your body, “fine, deal,” you grab his hand and shake it, “I’ll pay back every penny.” You’re going to have to work some serious overtime but it’ll be worth it., you’ll be belle of the ball or whatever the saying is.

As you walk away and get changed back into your ordinary clothes, Sunghoon speaks up, “Oh, and I only accept repayment in kisses. No cash.” He smirks and swiftly heads out to the payment desk.

“Park Sunghoon! That’s not happening!” You shout at him.

“Sorry, Sweets, we shook on it.” The smug man doesn’t even glance back at you.

That son of a bitch.

___________

It’s the night of the ceremony and you are beyond nervous. The idea of being acknowledged in front of a room full of people makes you sick to your stomach. Sure, you won’t be the only one there accepting an award since it’s for all the top students throughout the city, but all eyes will be on you at some point or other and that is what is causing the knots in your tummy.

Was it a bad idea to go tonight? It’s not as if you wouldn’t get the award, they would hand it into the Uni for you if you suddenly decided not to show up. You pace around your room, shaking your hands and breathing out to calm down. It’s not that big of a deal, get over it, you tell yourself, but nothing is stopping your thoughts. What if you fall? What if you got the date wrong? What if it’s a prank?

All these what-ifs circle in your head.

You throw yourself in front of your vanity mirror to look at yourself and assess whether you really can do this. The makeup and hair you've chosen for yourself make you appear to have it all together; the light eyeliner and gold shimmer eye shadow subtly make your eyes appear larger, and the Bardot fringe framing your face, as Sunghoon had suggested, it all ties together beautifully.

Maybe you can do this. Maybe, the reason you’re feeling so nervous is that you aren’t used to any sort of fuss being made about you, the spotlight always shining on your brother, Rina, or literally anyone else but you. When you got the letter through, you cried over not getting attention and recognition for it, and now here you are sweating over the fact you are getting what you wanted.

“Y/N, can I come in?” Minhee asks through the door. He hadn’t left for his shoot yet and honestly, you didn’t think you’d see him tonight.

You nod and then remember he can’t see you through the wooden door, “Oh, yeah come in.” You hadn’t begun to get ready in your dress yet, most of your time spent on the lashes you eventually decided to leave behind after a 30-minute dispute with yourself and some glue.

Standing up to greet him, Minhee comes in and closes the door behind him and when he sees you all dolled up, he scrunches his face, “Since when did my little sister become so grown up?” He inspects you, walking around you to look at your hair, “You’ve got a bit sticking out the back, by the way.”

Running back over to your mirror you examine your hair, looking for the imperfection but you don’t see it. With Minhee’s snort, you realise he’s joking, “Fuck off, Mini, don’t say shit like that!” you complain, going over your hair anyway.

“Sorry, Y/N, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so dolled up before.” He says.

"Yeah, well, it's a big night." You don't mean to say it snarkily, but Minhee seems to interpret it that way, his head dropping to look at the floor. He wanted nothing more than to be there for you, and it hurt him that you might think he didn't care.

Of course, you knew he cared; he told you he tried to reschedule this commercial shoot the night you found out; you can't blame him for not attending this ceremony because he at least tried to be there.

Minhee puts his hands in his pockets, “I can see if we can finish early. I might be able to make some of it?”

Your eyes widen in panic, thinking about what would happen if he showed up only to see Sunghoon sitting beside you, “No, no, really it’s okay. Just have fun at your shoot.”

“You think I will have fun knowing I’m missing my baby sister's first life achievement?” He’s angry but not at you, at himself and the situation he’s in because the more he speaks, the more he hates himself for not just throwing this schedule to the wind so he could come with you. But there’s more to it than you know.

Facing him, you try to offer him an empathetic expression: "Mini, I didn't mean it that way. Plus, my first major life achievement was high school graduation, and you came to that."

Smiling, you recall how he made such a fuss about something so insignificant in your view. Minhee created a banner that read 'Y/N, You Rock!' on it. It was cheesy and unusual to bring to graduation, but because you had always crafted signs to bring with you when you cheered him on at contests, he thought it was not only hilarious but also appropriate, “Plus, I’ll just win it again next year so you can come with me then.”

He smiles slightly and finds some comfort in your words. It amazed him how you managed to make everyone else feel better about themselves even when they shouldn’t. Gently, he attempts to fix your bangs, “Take lots of pictures, yeah? So many that I don’t think I missed it at all.”

“I will,” You stick your hand up in the air and he laughs, high-fiving you.

Before he leaves you for his schedule, he asks one more dreaded question, “Who are you taking anyway?”

It was the one question you hadn’t prepped for and now suddenly you’re back in school being given a pop quiz on a book you forgot to read.

“R-Rina! You know she would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t bring her along.” It was quick thinking and a plausible answer. He didn’t know she was stuck inside, studying for tomorrow’s exam.

“I figured, just wondering since you’re wearing that perfume you only wear for dates.” He smirks.

You sprayed a little Crystal Noir on your pulse points once you finished your hair to give it time to die down before you had to leave, “Excuse me, I use it for all special occasions.” Crossing your arms, you stand defensively. If he caught a whiff of a guy coming with you to this event, he wouldn’t let it go, and you couldn’t exactly blurt out that it was Sunghoon you were taking.

“Whatever. Have a good time, okay? If anything happens or Rina gets out of hand, give me a call, yeah?” Minhee stands half out of your room, holding the door as if he wants to say something else, “I’m proud of you, Bubs.”

Don’t fucking cry, this foundation is so expensive.

“Thanks, Mini. Love you,” you utter in a low voice, appreciative of his words.

Minhee closes the door behind him and you check your phone for the time. You have an hour to finish getting dressed, plenty of time to fit in a few more what-ifs, and learn to tie the bow of your dress correctly.

_____

Brushing off any dust or hair from your dress, you take a glance at yourself in the mirror. You look good like you’re prepared for this. Your phone pings with a new message.

No.1 Ice Skater 🧊🤍:

6:14pm: Hey Sweets, are you ready?

6:14pm: Yeah! Are you nearly here?

Just as your message was sent, the doorbell rings. Sunghoon didn’t wait about, you thought you had at least another 10 minutes before he showed up.

Running down the stairs, almost as if you’re gliding, you swing the door open, not even looking at Sunghoon properly, “Come in! I’m just going to get my stuff from upstairs.”

You’re like a mist, coming as fast as you go and Sunghoon bewilderingly helps himself into your home. This is the first time he dared to step foot in the Kang residence, giving him a strange feeling.

Glancing around, his eyes grew with curiosity as he took in the intricacies that made up the place. His gaze lingered on the framed images on the walls, which captured different parts of your life from young until now. It was as if each image represented a chapter, and he was turning the pages.

However, he did notice how there was only one of you solely on your own, you were 14, leaning on a tree on an evidently hot summer day in your sundress. He remembers you so clearly at that age, it’s strange considering he didn’t get to speak more than 3 words to you back then. The smile on his face grows as his gratitude for the time he can spend with you now seeps into his heart.

The padding of your feet down the carpeted stairs pulls his eyes away, looking at the now 19-year-old you. You’re fighting to put a pair of earrings in as you hold the Versace shoes by their strap on one of your free fingers and your handbag swings from your left shoulder.

Once you win your battle with the small gold hoops, you place the shoes and bag down, “Sorry, I’ll be two minutes, let me just put these on and we’re good to go.”

But before you can sit on the last step of the staircase to buckle your shoes, Sunghoon unbuttons his jacket and kneels, grabbing the shoes and sliding them on your feet. You finally stop for a minute and take in the scene in front of you - he’s so sweet you could melt.

Sunghoon carefully buckles your heels, trying not to nip your skin. "Are they alright?" he asks, looking up at you. You confirm with a nod, eliciting a slight smile on his face. As he slides his hands over the outside of your legs, he gently kisses the inner area of your calves. He doesn’t know why he does it, it just feels natural to kiss every inch of your body.

He gets back on his feet and leans back to look at you. Even though he had previously seen the dress on you, seeing you in it again with your hair and makeup done and the accessories you selected was a completely other experience, “Wow.”

It’s not what he wanted to say exactly, but it’s all he could at the moment. You had completely blown him away.

Blushing, you push him playfully, taking in his outfit of choice as you do so. He’s wearing a simple black suit with silk trimmings, his lace-up derby shoes match the shininess of yours, and his tie is adorned with a gold Prada tie bar. He did the simplest things to match you without being too obvious about it, and the attention to detail erupted butterflies in your chest.

“You look amazing, Hoonie,” you compliment.

“Don’t I always?” he replies cockily, doing a showman spin so you can see all of his outfit. He’s so silly sometimes it cancels out his arrogance. Buttoning his jacket back up, he holds out his arm for you to take, “Shall we?”

You take his arm and grin vibrantly at him, shaking your head in agreement. Locking the door behind you, and double checking your purse, you make your way to the venue.

Arriving at the event makes you even more overwhelmed than you thought you would be. It’s just an award ceremony for some uni kids but it looks like the Met Gala. Everyone is dressed to the nines, the atmosphere is filled with excitement and amazement, and you begin to wonder just what it’s like on the inside.

Sunghoon places his hand on your shoulder to gain your attention, “Are you sure you’re not winning a Grammy or something?” He jokes, unintentionally easing your mind.

“I know, I can’t believe the city would do this for a couple of students that got high grades.”

In a dubious yet playful tone, he quirked his mouth to the side and asked, "Is that all you are? A student with high grades?" The mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips showed his scepticism over your self-deprecation. Did you truly think that’s all you were? “I’d say to be the most exceptional student of the whole of Yonsei, it would go further than just your grades, right?” He massages your shoulder, thumb circling lightly.

When you look at him, he’s waiting for you to agree with him. You know you’re downplaying it right now, but it’s the only way you might be able to get through the ceremony without vomiting, “Yeah okay, maybe it’s more than that.”

“No, you’re more than that, Sweets.” Why was it even when he was disgustingly cheesy, it made your heart do summersaults, “C’mon, let’s go.” He gets out of the car and rushes to your side to open the door for you. The place had a valet so Sunghoon reluctantly handed the boy his keys, scared for his poor baby.

Walking into the Cathedral was daunting yet exhilarating. The buzz in the air and loud chatter meant your senses didn’t know what to settle on. The inside was beautiful, the architecture old and filled with history, and now you were adding to it in a way, which helps you smile.

A waiter comes over with champagne on a tray and offers you and Sunghoon one each which you gladly take. You take a sip and savour the fruity taste, Normally, you’re content with a £6 bottle of Echo Falls which doesn’t even truly count as wine never mind champagne, so this is a new experience for you. The drink glides down your throat as you take another swig.

Your date pushes his glass to you, “Here, take this one.”

“Why? Aren’t you having it?”

“Nah, I don’t drink. Plus, I drove us here.” Sunghoon shrugs and takes the empty glass from your hand, deciding not to comment on how you downed a probably £15 glass of champagne in record time.

You forgot he didn’t drink, so used to everyone around you necking bottles like they were going out of fashion, you are a bit like that too to be fair so you can’t judge them. Even Minhee drank like a fish when he didn’t have training the next morning.

Speaking of Minhee.

“Hey, can you take a picture of me next to the sign?” you point your head towards the grand sign that says ‘25th Annual Crowning Achievement Gala’ in gold writing, weirdly matching your attire.

Sunghoon agrees, stretching out his hand to take your phone, “Does Rina want to see your outfit?”

“No, I promised Mini I would take lots of pictures,” you say nonchalantly, not seeing the way Sunghoon’s expression turns sour. It’s been easy to forget they hate each other since you don’t really bring them up in front of one another.

Adding to his bitterness is the text that conveniently popped up from your brother the exact moment he took your phone. Even his name triggered Sunghoon, not only from their past but because he should be here with you, regardless of circumstances. Sunghoon couldn’t wrap his head around why he wouldn’t just drop everything for you, how his career took prestige over his own little sister. The idea that you aren’t everyone’s first priority makes him sick. He made a vow you would never feel like a second option when you’re with him.

If you could hear the torrent of names and accusations swirling in Sunghoon's mind, it would undoubtedly spark an argument. However, while you couldn't read his thoughts, his facial expressions spoke volumes. “Sunghoon, please. He asked for a picture,” you plead, hoping to diffuse the tension.

“He should have fucking been here,” he seethes, his frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Was he really going to make a scene here and now? Catching the disbelief on your face, he deflates, realizing that this isn’t the appropriate time or place for his outburst. “Sorry, Sweets,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with remorse.

You offer a sarcastic thank you and dutifully pose next to the sign. Sunghoon snaps about 10 different pictures, determined to capture the perfect shot. In his eyes, you look stunning in every single one, but he knows he may be a bit biased.

The bell rings to signal the ceremony is starting and you make your way to the assigned seat. You’re both placed at a round table, big enough to fit 12 people, and in the middle of the table there is a candelabra with flowers at the base and three ice buckets with red and white wine.

“This is way too fancy for a school award,” The girl beside you whispers, to which you just nod. As everyone takes their seats, you see Sunghoon pull out your chair for you before sitting on his own. The girl next to you hits her partner and mutters, “Why didn’t you do that for me?”

Sunghoon was a high standard to meet, you knew that. Despite his flaws, he was always gentle with you, raising the bar for your needs more and more. When you eventually find a boy you can be with, he’ll never be on Sunghoon’s level, no one could ever be.

The pain deepens each time you realise that Sunghoon may never be someone you can call yours.

He reaches over and pours you a white wine, smiling as he does so. One thing you’ve learned about Sunghoon is that he loves to do simple acts of service, and right now he is in his element. Being able to look after you, even in the most simple ways is all he has ever wanted. And since it’s your big night, you’re being more lenient with your rules. He wonders just how far he could push it.

Taking your left hand in his, he intertwines your fingers and brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it softly, “Do you think there’s an overall award? Like, is one of you better than anyone else?” he asks.

“Nah, it would be cruel to make someone an overall winner of a winner. It would take away from the feeling of achievement everyone has,” you look around and see what must be about 90 people. You hadn’t known there were so many universities around the place.

"Yeah, imagine people winning a tournament but still needing to compete again to be the best of the best. I couldn't think of anything worse." Sunghoon gives you a look that asks, ‘Are you aware of who you are speaking to?’ and you realise who you are talking with, Mr. Ice Prince, who is about to compete in Nationals before going on to compete in the Olympics.

The irony was evident, as the person you were expressing this to was thoroughly entrenched in the world of competitive figure skating, which was based on the very idea you found so frustrating. Not that you’re all kumbaya or anything, but it’s a shame that everything in life seems to be a competition.

“How has training been for Nationals?” you ask, focusing on his nose freckle.

“Sweets you come to nearly all my practices, you know it’s going okay,” he eyes you suspiciously, “Wait, was I right the first day I saw you lurking around the ring? Have you made this grand plan to get me whipped for you so you can spy on me?” Sunghoon’s eyebrow raised playfully, “Now you want to sike me out?”

“What? NO!” you proclaim, laughing in disbelief.

“It’s all coming out now, baby, you can’t hide it anymore,” both of you laugh at the thought of an elaborate scheme being the reason he’s sitting beside you right now.

You kiss his hand that’s still tangled with yours, “Hand in hand, I promise I have relayed absolutely nothing to my brother.”

“Want to tell me what he’s planning then? A flying camel spin? Quad jumps?” Wiggling his brows you let go of his hand a roll your eyes. To be honest, you haven’t seen Minhee’s practice in a while.

Come to think of it, your mum hasn’t pestered you to be there like she normally does. The first few times you missed his practices she reprimanded you, telling you how much missing the training lowers Minhee’s confidence. It’s not that you wanted to miss them, and you tried your hardest to be there, it’s just…you were always with Sunghoon.

The tapping of a mic diverts your attention from your worries to the stage, “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’m so happy to see so many young talents within our universities, it fills me with pride for this city.” The Chancellor of Education beams with pride.

He continues to ramble on about a bunch of stuff that you couldn't care less about. Your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of the three steps leading up to the stage and how easily you could trip and faceplant in front of everyone here.

A person dressed in an all-black suit comes over and speaks to your table, “Anyone who is receiving an award, please follow me.” Shit. Here you go.

You look to Sunghoon who smiles reassuringly, “Go get 'em’, Sweets.” his words are less encouraging than you need them to be at this moment, but the pride in his eyes is enough to get you up off your chair and follow the man to the side of the stage.

Sunghoon watches on as you take your place in line. He can tell you’re shitting a brick but he knows you’ll be fine, you always are - you’re tough like that. A proud smile appeared on his face, showing his admiration for you. As you got closer to the stage, the world around him melted away, leaving only the view of you, poised for recognition.

“Your girl is a looker,” One of the guys at the table says, and the others agree, but Sunghoon doesn’t take his eyes off you, scared he’ll miss any part of this.

“She is, isn’t she?” Sunghoon musters up a reply. If he wasn’t so infatuated with you right now he might have told the boy to keep his eyes off you, but he spares him for now.

Unaware of the compliments being whispered about you at the table, you find yourself sweating a little. If this were any other scenario, you would make a joke about how your palms are sweaty, mom’s spaghetti, but this isn’t a laughing matter.

As tension mounts, you silently reassure yourself that you won't stumble, that everything will be fine, and that it’s just a fleeting moment.

As the chancellor says the names of each student, you’re getting closer and closer to the stage and you start to think how you should have had way more wine to calm you, but then again, more wine equals drunk you, and she isn’t exactly steady on her feet at the best of times.

“Y/N Kang.”

Oh, that’s me. You think, smiling idly. Oh, fuck that’s me.

Centring yourself, you gracefully make it up the stairs, no accident in sight, and walk to the chancellor and thank him as you accept your award.

“WOO!”

Turning to glance at your table, you notice Sunghoon standing up, clapping and smiling broadly, his canines on full display as he makes a fuss over you and shouts your name. He begins to fist-pump the air, and everyone laughs, including you. As you place a hand over your mouth, your cheeks turn crimson not only from embarrassment but also from happiness.

The warm glow of the stage lights framed you, creating an illuminating aura around your body. Sunghoon couldn't help but congratulate himself on tricking you into allowing him to buy you the dress you're currently wearing.

You bow to the committee and hurry down the stairs, ready for the spotlight to be off you and on literally anyone else but that isn’t the case. All eyes are on you, happy faces greet you from every table as if they have known you for years, and all you can do is thank them in passing, desperate to get to Sunghoon.

Approaching the table, Sunghoon holds his hand out to stop you, and you pause in place, confused. He picks your phone up and swipes open the camera app, “Pose with your prize, Sweets.”

Obliging, you do a multitude of poses, some silly and some you could actually put on your Instagram. Once he’s satisfied, Sunghoon ushers you towards him, picking you up and spinning you around a few times, “So, so proud of you, Y/N.” Gently, his mouth meets yours as he sets you down, “So fucking proud of you, you have no idea.” his whispered affirmations of pride bring a few tears to your eyes but you blink them back.

Just like before, he pulls your seat out for you as you sit back down and congratulate the other winners at your table. You miss the way he gazed at you with a softness in his eyes that spoke volumes, an unspoken language of affection and warmth. His gaze followed the contours of your face, fixating on every detail as though he were memorising it.

He passes you the phone so you can take more pictures of your award to send to Minhee. Sunghoon doesn’t mean to read the messages between you both but he can see how he misjudged Minhee a little.

Mini <3

8:23pm Look! It’s so pretty

3 images attached

8:24pm: Bubs you look amazing?!?

8:24pm: When did my sister get so pretty?

8:24pm: I wish I was there :(

8:24pm: I know :( Me too

8:24pm: Better come next time!

8:25pm: Never missing anything again

8:25pm: Love you, I couldn’t be prouder.

8:25pm: Keep me updated!

“Hoonie, let’s get a picture together, hmm?” You haven’t ever taken a picture with him before, possibly because it’s an unspoken rule, but you can’t pass the opportunity up - not when you both look so good.

Shuffling his chair a little so he can be behind you, he leans forward, almost resting his chin on your shoulder before you snap a pic. You take a few, most of them just smiling from a different angle, that is before Sunghoon presses his lips to your cheek and closes his eyes. Closing your eyes with him, you take the picture quickly.

“Ah! It’s so pretty.” You squeal, reviewing the pictures. A serene moment filled with the tenderness of your connection unfolds as his lips find the slope of your shoulder. Sunghoon puckers his mouth and gives you a delicate kiss while his eyes focus on the photo you’re showing him, “Do you like it?”

He turns your face to look at him and whispers, "I love it." Sunghoon's gaze expressed a language deeper than the words, a confession he knows he can't make out loud, not yet, He encloses your lips in his, pouring his feelings into you the best he can.

It was as if this award ceremony wasn’t happening because you don’t even realise all the awards have been handed out and there’s a band making their way to the stage, both of you are too engrossed in one another. The band plays songs typical of these kinds of events, renditions of pop songs, and some classics to get people dancing.

As the night progresses, the table you're at empties, but you and Sunghoon remain seated, immersed in conversation about everything and anything. He's removed his jacket and hung it over the chair; his sleeves are rolled up and his tie is loose, reflecting how long you've been getting familiar with each other. You didn’t think there was anything left you could know about him after spending almost 2 months with him, but you were wrong.

As you nurse your second glass of wine, you ask him the most important question of the evening.

“Do you think aliens will come and take over the world?”

Sunghoon laughs out loud, looking at you dotingly, “What? Like right now?” he twirls a piece of your hair framing your face.

“Nah not now, but like in the future. Like some War of the Worlds shit.”

“Oh so not like little green dudes?” He asks and you shake your head assuringly, “Good, because it was hard enough batting every guy at this table tonight off of you, never mind Martians with superpowers. I don’t stand a chance there.”

You laugh for the nth time, “None of them were even looking at me.”

“Yeah, because I gave them all my signature death stare to stop looking at my girl,” he points two fingers to his eyes and imitates a stern expression.

“Ah, but see, I’m not your girl,” you lean back in your chair and cross one leg over the other, “You’re forgetting that.”

His expression shifted, becoming more earnest, "You could be..." he replied, his gaze holding a sincerity that belied the playfulness of the banter. The words are spoken with true intent, leaving a pause in the air as he looks for any response on your face.

“Hoonie-”

“I know - Minhee, and your devoted loyalty to him - but you know this is more than what we’re calling it, so why don’t we just call it like it is?” he pleads, slouching forward to take your hands in his, “We can still keep it a secret, we don’t have to tell him.”

“But he said no dating, that’s the whole point of us being in this sort of relationship,” you remind him of the loophole he had found in Minhee’s words that eased your guilt.

“Sweets, no offence but if you don’t feel guilty now, you won’t if I call you my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

He skipped the whole dating idea and just jumped straight to relationship status. But he’s right because technically you have been dating for almost 2 months, just never calling it that for your own peace of mind. You never intended to fall headfirst for Sunghoon, or maybe you did.

You can’t deny the gravitational pull you both have towards one another, that instant connection from the night he kissed you for the first time. Of course, it’s complicated, what with Minhee’s feelings involved, but maybe you should give in and see what happens.

You suck in a breath, your inner turmoil threatening to overwhelm you, "If we’re still keeping it a secret, and everything is still the same between us, why do we need to label it?"

He kisses your hands tenderly, his touch soothing, "Well, we can finally get rid of those fucking rules that neither of us cared about in the first place. I can take you out and proudly call it a date, and shower you with gifts as your man," Sunghoon's gaze shifts from your hands to your eyes, his expression earnest, "And I get to proudly call you mine, for as long as you’ll have me."

The sensation of his lips against your skin sends tingles down your spine, and his words ease the weight of your unspoken desires. It would be a relief to just be with him, but could your mind ever silence the guilt?

“Y/N, listen to me,” he turns deadly serious, a little annoyed at how much Minhee is having a say in this without even uttering a word, “Minhee is a grown man, he will get over it. He won’t hate you, he loves you too much for that. Will he be a little angry at the beginning? Sure, but that won’t last, okay? He does not own you, nor can he tell you who you can and cannot date,” he begs you to see his point of view, “Please just be with me.”

You feel the weight of his words in your chest. Sunghoon hasn’t ever led you wrong so far, so why would he now? Minhee would get over it because, at the end of the day, that’s your brother, the same brother that used to plat your hair when it got in your way, and the same brother who protected you from any hurt when your parents split, hugging you through the shouting. He wouldn’t abandon you so easily.

Sunghoon watches as his words calm you down, and a glimmer of hope punches his heart.

“We still keep it a secret, I can’t tell him just yet. We’ll do it after Nationals.” You tell him a matter of fact.

Nodding understandingly, he reaches for your face, “Yeah, anything you want, Sweets. We’ll do it all at your pace.” This is everything he’s ever wanted, the opportunity to call you his girl, and now that it’s finally here, he feels like he’s the one who won something tonight, “So?”

“So?” You repeat.

“Are you mine? Officially?” he knows the answer, he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“I’m yours, Hoonie.”

Dramatically, he lets go of you and sinks into his chair, face etched in glee and relief, it’s a dream come true to have you say those words and he thinks he might pass out. Placing one hand over his heart he breathes out a quiet ‘thank fuck for that’, making you giggle.

A teasing smile tugged at the edges of your lips, and your eyes twinkled with affection, “You’re so silly.” you grab his hand from his heart and replace it with yours, patting it softly. The simple gesture has his face splitting with a grin and his eyes closing.

“My girlfriend,” he whispers to himself but you hear it, your brain dizzying at the thought. He starts to sit up, “My princess, my baby, my angel.” Grabbing your face he kisses you all over like he’s leaving little sprinkles of affection anywhere he can, “Fuck those stupid rules, I’m calling you whatever I want, buying you whatever I want, having sex with you wherever I want.”

“Uh, didn’t you do that anyway?” you say between titters.

“Yeah, but now I don’t have to have your beautiful, perfect, eyes glaring at me every time I do.” Maybe you were a little harsh on him, considering you broke a lot of them multiple times too, “Promise me you won’t back out of this, baby.”

The petname falls just as easily as his nickname for you. Secretly, you hope he doesn’t stop calling you Sweets because even though you don’t know why he does it, it’s his thing for you and you love it, “I promise. And if I feel myself doubting or thinking about how Minhee will feel, I’ll talk to you about it first,” you say this because Sunghoon is the only one that can get you out of your previous mindset, he proved that tonight.

Resting his forehead against yours, Sunghoon looks directly into your eyes, “Good. Because I’m yours and I won’t let him ruin this for us. I don’t care.”

“Me either.” And you truly mean it.

The sound of glasses being collected and chairs stacked upon one another makes you retreat from him and look up. The event had been over for a hot minute, only you, Sunghoon, and a few drunken mothers who can’t get up off the dance floor are left in the grand hall.

You check your phone and see it’s almost 3am, “Shit, we better go.”

Sunghoon peers at the clock on his watch and a pout forms on his lips, “We didn’t even get to dance.”

“Eh, whatever, we can do that whenever we like now.” You cheekily remark, turning his sullen expression into one of amazement. You can tell he still doesn’t really believe it.

“Please tell me you don’t have to go home tonight?” He asks.

Shaking your head you stand up, putting things back into your bag, “No, I told Minhee and Mum I would be staying at Rina’s so I don’t wake them up.”

“Great.” He slings your bag over his shoulder and grabs your award before he lifts you up, earning a yelp from you but he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead opting to squeeze your ass with his free hand and keep his grip there to ensure you don’t fall.

“Hoonie, what are you doing?” You laugh, securing your legs and arms around him.

“What does it look like? I’m going home so I can fuck my award-winning girlfriend.”

______

Sunghoon pushes you into his flat as he kisses you passionately, his mouth never leaving yours even when he unlocks the door and slams it shut behind him. You’re just as needy for him, pulling at his tie to drag him into the bedroom that you know your way to oh, so well.

Despite the urgency in both of your bodies, he places your award gently on his desk, sure to not break it. You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less, you need him more than a glass trophy. You begin to practically climb his tall figure, seeking any sort of sexual relief.

He knew you couldn’t wait for him when you were kissing him at every traffic light and had his belt unbuckled before he even made it out of the car. He was honestly surprised you didn’t try to suck him off while he was driving.

You began to strip him of his tie and shirt, fumbling with his buttons all the way down, “Easy, baby, you have me.” He reassures you, but there isn’t any stopping you tonight, you’re on a high like no other. You just got a boyfriend, got acknowledged for all your hard work in uni, and now you’re going to fuck until the sun comes up, what’s not to love about your life right now?

Without you even noticing, he unties the bow behind your neck and pulls it down, exposing your erect nipples. Sleeking his hands down from your neck to your tits, he rolls your nipples in between his fingers, pinching every so often to send a jolt through your body and down to your sex.

Pushing, you guide him to the bed until he collapses on it, a quiet ‘oof’ leaving his lips at the force. Sunghoon wasn’t necessarily prepared for you to be so in control but he won’t complain, how could he when you were climbing onto him, tits dangling in front of him like tempting raindrops and he’s been in the desert, thirsty for them.

He sits up, chest at eye level as he licks up the curve of your right breast, teasing you. You’re hands run through his hair, pushing his bangs back so you can get a good look at his face. He has the same bright look he always does when he gets to play with your tits, it would actually be quite sweet if you both weren’t about to perform a sinful act.

Flickering his eyes up to you, he smirks, taking your nipple into his mouth finally twirling his tongue around it hungrily. The way he keeps staring into your eyes as he sucks your tit has you breathing out slowly and your chest moving heavily.

Once his teeth sink into you, your eyes shut and your head falls back. His sharp teeth gently tug at your nub, then licking it softly - he alternates between the nip and pleasure his mouth is giving you.

Deciding enough is enough, you pull his face away, watching as he goes to go right back to it; if it wasn’t for the grip you had on him, he would have, “Please don’t stop me,” He whines, his eyes looking at you, a drip of begging splashing around in his iris.

“Do you want to suck my tits, or fuck me?” You pose.

Sunghoon doesn’t have to think about it, he knows exactly what the answer is. Curling his arms behind you, he zips down your dress as it sits at the bottom of your spine, using the opportunity to kiss the valley of your breasts. He bunches up the material and lifts it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

His jaw nearly hits the floor as he sees the white mesh thong tilted on your waist, “Fuck,” He can’t believe you had that under the dress the whole time and he’s only getting to see it now.

You wouldn’t normally wear white with a black dress but it’s his favourite colour on you which you discovered recently. One night you wore his white t-shirt to bed and he couldn’t stop looking at you, his hands all over you the second he saw you adorned in it.

“They’re cute, right?” You were proud of your purchase before but now seeing his reaction, you were more than pleased with yourself.

“Baby, did you buy them for me?” He licks his lips, the corners of his lips tugging up as he runs his middle finger along your clothed slit, dipping it to pull the underwear closer to him. It gives him the chance to see just how wet you are, the patch darkening the material.

Nodding your head, you reply, “All for you, Hoonie” Your voice comes out more seductive than you mean to but it only fuels his fire more.

You bite your finger and smile down, acting bashful but he sees right through it, knowing you’re enjoying how he’s reacting to you, “I’ve hit the fucking jackpot with you,” He confesses, still eyeing your cunt.

It makes you giddy how easily he says things like that, as if it comes so naturally to him to compliment you or make you feel like you’re the only girl he’s ever looked at.

To Sunghoon, you might as well be the only woman on the planet, he doesn’t care about any of the others, not when you’re here gracing this earth. Your laugh, your smile, your body, your ability to inject him with a new lease of life, why would he ever need to look at anyone else?

“Are you just going to stare?” You lean down to his ear, “Or are you going to fuck your girlfriend?”

He almost cums, your words shooting down to his dick and making it throb. You’re his girlfriend. He won’t ever get used to it, dreaming about it so long he thought that’s all it would be, a distant dream. When you said you would be his, his heart could have vomited.

Grabbing your waist, he flips you over, his expression is menacing which means you’re in for the time of your life. Your boyfriend captures your lips with his, hands roughly grabbing at your sides and hips.

With whatever of your concentration isn’t on his tongue in your mouth, you undo his trousers and push them down with your feet, dragging his boxers down in the process. All that’s left on him is his white shirt but you don’t want to get rid of that just yet. The way it’s lazily hanging off his shoulders makes him look like those slutty little white tunics in period dramas.

Sunghoon’s mouth moves from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, suckling the base of your neck which he knows gets you a moaning mess.

True to his knowledge, you mewl out, tilting your head to encourage him more.

His hands slither down to your thong, playing with it a little to tease you and fill you with anticipation. As he pushes the material away, exposing your folds, he looks down, “You’re so ready for me, Sweets, don’t you think?” He slides two of his fingers in between your pussy, quickly dipping them in and out with ease before offering them to your lips/

Without hesitation, you accept his silent invitation, sucking his fingers clean, never stopping your intense gaze into his eyes.

The way you know what he wants without him having to vocalise it just makes him even more desperate for you. He presses his fingers against your tongue, causing you to open your mouth, “Stick it out for me,” Sunghoon asks, eyes clouded with lust.

As you stick your tongue out, he retracts his fingers, delving to lick your tongue, “You taste so good, baby,” he licks your tongue once more before committing to the kiss you’ve been craving.

Desperately, you grab his cock and pump him, your hand inadvertently skimming past your clit in the prosses due to how close his body is to yours.

The sudden touch from you shocks Sunghoon but what really sends him reeling is your thumb rubbing over his head, circling the tip with pressure, “Jesus Christ,” he huffs out breathlessly, his hips bucking into your palm, hoping for more delicious release from your grip.

His hot breath hits your face as he pants, only making you more eager to please him. Bringing your hips up, you trap his cock between your slit and palm, rubbing both against his shaft, the heat of your pussy contradicts the coldness of your hand, making Sunghoon’s brain fry.

Your fingers push him to sit neatly in your folds, however, when you thrust your hips up again, the pressure makes the head of his cock dip into your entrance, causing you both to moan loudly.

“Sweets, let me put on a condom,” he swallows, managing to choke out the words amidst his desire. He shakes his head trying to bring himself to a rational state but as you dip him in again, he can only groan, “Fuck.”

“We don’t need one,” you assert, shallowly fucking yourself on the first 2 inches of his cock, “I want to feel my boyfriend.”

Your words hang in the air but none of you stop your actions, not even pretending to think about it. Sunghoon nudges your nose with his, “You sure?”

“I’m positive, baby,” you whisper into his mouth, sharing your wants with him. You’re both too far gone into one another that none of you have the common sense to say no.

The man above you nods, placing two tiny kisses on your lips while his hips move with the pressure of your hand, “I’ll pull out, I promise,” he has never given you a reason to distrust his promises and you won't start now.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss with a low growl as you push more of him inside you. To be fair, the feeling isn’t that much different from when he wears condoms, the thin feel condoms he buys, he buys for a reason.

But this wasn’t about feeling his cock raw, it was about connecting with him just that little bit more, about showing your trust in him.

The head of his cock slowly hits you deeper, each time he jerks his hips into you, he penetrates deeper inside. The feel of your naked walls on his bell feels unreal, the way each bump scrapes his tender tip makes him groan, his head buried into your neck to muffle his sounds.

“You feel so good, Hoonie,” With his cock now fully inside you, your fingertips graze up his tensing toned stomach and around to his back, caressing him gently, “Faster, please,” you ask as your hands slide to his ass, pushing down rhymically to set him at a new pace.

Sunghoon loves when you subtly take control, still letting him be the one to fuck you so good you see stars while telling him how to get you there. He can read your body so well but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell him what else you need from him.

Lifting your bottom half, he holds your hips and pounds into you the way you want, the velocity of his thrusts sends your eyes to the back of your head. You can’t help but moan his name loudly, chanting it like you’re possessed, “Sunghoon, shit, don’t stop.”

He chuckles, looking down at you, “You’re mad if you think I ever would.”

Shuffling so your butt is balancing on his thighs, he bucks up into you with the same speed but now he’s using one of his free hands to rub your clit, adding a new layer of intensity, “Holy fuck,” You thrash under him as your nub tingles at his touch.

Your words provide him with all the encouragement he needs to give you even more, “You’re so good at taking me, Sweets. Look how good you are,” He entices you to look down but you stop as you finally look at his face; the sweat dripping from his forehead, some of it collected in the creases of his brows as he scrunches his face, focused only on fucking you into heaven. His mouth is hanging open, pushing out short breaths to mirror the movement of his hips.

He’s so deliciously hot.

If your pussy could actually purr, it would be, but instead, it’s clenching to show that you’re close. The tightness doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who smirks, looking at you with hooded eyes, “You gonna cum, baby?”

Sunghoon’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he flicks your clit faster, trying to get you closer to the edge. This will be the first time he’s experiencing you cumming on his raw cock, so he’s a little impatient, desperate to know what your core feels like as it grips him naked.

“Hoon..Hoonie..” your heartbeat is rapidly increasing in your chest but your breathing is slowing down, a clear indicator that you’re coming undone, “I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming.”

“Yeah, you are, sweetheart” Sunghoon has to control himself but it’s painfully difficult as he feels your walls clamp down and contract on his member. He’s so engrossed in the feeling of you that he keeps going, pressing your stomach down with his arm to stop you from escaping and slipping off him.

His thumb goes hard at your swollen bud, the fast sensation causing you to try and pull away. It feels like you’re on fire but Sunghoon has no desire to stop. He physically can’t, you feel too good, the squirming of your hips mixed in with your walls hugging him, there was no way he could give it up just yet.

You choke on the air you're actively trying to get into your lungs as your boyfriend overstimulates you. It’s painful, yet, you’re begging for it not to stop.

“Oh my god, Hoon.” your voice is sore from all the moaning and dry mouth you have.

“I’m nearly there, Sweets. Fuck, I’m so close.” Now that he’s seeking his own release, he switches his position, opting to have you as close to him as possible. With the little strength he has left, he hugs your body and scoops you to sit fully on his cock, tits bouncing in his face as he guides you up and down his shaft, “Y/N, can you keep it clenched for me? Please?” The please comes out as a whispered beg.

Nodding, you gather your focus to your pussy and squeeze him and it’s like you’re suddenly seeing stars, his cock sloppily hitting your g-spot over and over thanks to the newfound tightness.

Shutting his eyes to truly envelope himself in the feel of you, his stomach tightens, balls throbbing as he stops himself from cumming, “Fuck, wait,” he abruptly lifts you off him, the last drag of his head against your squeezed hole has ropes of his cum shooting up as high as your breasts, “Y/N, shit, Jesus.”

You stare at his cock as it keeps unloading between you both, creating a sticky mess on both of your bodies. It’s always so beautiful to see him cum like this, although usually it’s on your face after you’ve given him a blow job.

Both of you are equally spent, panting filling the otherwise silent room. You revel in the aftermath of the ecstasy, the air thick with the scent of your combined essence.

As the waves of pleasure gradually ebb away, you feel contentment wash over your body and mind, eliciting a smile from you. This was truly the best night of your life.

Sunghoon’s eyes drag up your body as he notices the cum splattered on your tits, “Fucking hell, look at you,” his tone is saturated in awe and delight as he drinks you in. Honestly, he didn’t know he could shoot that far; he’ll have to give himself a pat on the back later for creating the masterpiece in front of him.

Swiftly, he brings his mouth back to your tit, licking the cum from you and your eyes widen in shock. Guys don’t tend to even want to kiss you if you’ve swallowed their cum, never mind cleaning it off your body.

Truthfully, Sunghoon isn’t in his right mind just yet, still clouded with lust, aching for any sort of contact with you. Your tits are all he sees.

“Sunghoon?” you try to bring him back but it doesn’t work, you’ll need to physically drag him away from your chest. Cupping his face, you bring him to level with you again, “You okay?”

“I need you so fucking much,” he whispers, his lips seeking yours in a tender kiss.

Your laughter dances between you, "You just had me," you tease, the warmth of his lips against yours sparking a playful energy between you.

But his next words sober the moment, revealing a depth of feeling that leaves you breathless. "No, like in every sense, I fucking need you. I can't imagine even breathing without you," he admits, his vulnerability laid bare in the afterglow of the moment.

Moved by Sunghoon's heartfelt confession, you feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With an adoring smile, you caress his cheek, your touch a silent reassurance of your love for him.

"I need you too, Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath against his lips. "More than anything.” It’s a simple mirror of his words, but you hope he knows you truly mean it.

To be frank, even if you had just said ‘ditto’ back, he would have been content. There are feelings for you so deep routed into his soul that he’s terrified and excited all at once.

And you’re all his.

“My girlfriend,” he beams, finally coming out of his lust coma, “You’re mine.”

His words strike a chord deep inside you, creating an overwhelming feeling of belonging and security that wraps around your heart like a warm embrace. With a delicate grin, you return his adoration, your fingers tracing soft patterns along his jawline as you enjoy the tenderness of his affection for you.

"I'm yours, Hoonie," you say quietly your voice full of reverence, "Until you want to get rid of me."

Kissing your palm, he smirks, trailing all the way up your arm and along your shoulder, “I’m literally never letting you go, I’m sorry,” his eyes shine a playful glint as he peppers kisses along your face, “That also means right now.”

He quickly pushes you back into the mattress, both of you laughing as he softly kisses your nose; nevertheless, you know the gentleness will fade as soon as he realises he hasn't even eaten you yet. It’s not in him not to devour your pussy.

You can only sigh in satisfaction as he runs his lips down your stomach.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted. He is everything you’ve ever wanted.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen fluff #aj writes #melting point #park sunghoon smut

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kookslastbutton · 3 months

Text

Too Late To Dream ༓ jjk (m) I Epilogue: Stargaze

✑ Summary: The topic of starting a family has been a vulnerable subject for both of you, especially over the past year as you've struggled to conceive. But tonight, under the blanket of the twinkling sky, your love proves stronger as neither of you is willing to give up hope just yet —and maybe you won't have to.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au, slice of life

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), swearing, mentions of past apprehensions of fatherhood, mentions of difficult past, pregnancy journey, and some sexual/suggestive content

Sexual/suggestive warnings: swearing, kissing (making out, neck kisses, etc), hair tugging/playing, sentimental tears, mention of pregnant s*x/c*ming

Now Playing: Heaven by Bryan Adams

a/n: About a year ago I started a series that I'm sure a decent amount of my readers are familiar with. It's one that will always stay close to my heart because of its very nature....it's simply touching for me. Anyway, I've owed everyone, including myself, an epilogue for quite some time. This can be read as a stand-alone, but I do recommend reading the series if you wish to have more context, etc.

Hope you enjoy 🥰

Series Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

Tonight, under the vast canopy of stars in the late summer night sky, you feel a peacefulness in your heart as you lie beside your husband of three years on a soft blanket spread out in the backyard.

The air is cool with the scent of freshly cut grass, and the stars shimmer like diamonds above you. You and Jungkook have always loved stargazing together—it's a cherished ritual that brings you closer, grounding you in the beauty and wonder of the universe.

"Look," Jungkook murmurs, pointing towards a particularly bright star. "That one's so bright tonight."

You follow his gaze, smiling softly. "Yeah, it's beautiful."

Jungkook turns to you, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "This is my favorite place to be with you, you know?”

“Mine too,” you reply, snuggling closer to him.

The gentle rustling of leaves fills the silence for a few moments before Jungkook speaks again.

“I’ve been thinking…about us, about our future," he starts.

Your heart skips a beat, sensing the weight of his words. "What about our future?"

"I want us to keep trying to build our family," he says earnestly, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. "I know it hasn't been easy, and we expected to be pregnant months ago, but I believe our time will come."

The topic of starting a family has been a vulnerable subject for both of you, especially over the past year as you've struggled to conceive. It's been filled with tender moments and heartaches, each negative test a painful reminder of the journey.

Countless visits to Dr. Kim for advice and reassurances couldn’t fill the void left by each disappointment. Yet, through it all, neither of you could let the anticipation and hope that have woven themselves into the fabric of your days and nights diminish.

"I believe it too, Kook," you reply, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze his hand.

He turns to face you fully, his gaze searching yours. "I've wrestled with the idea of becoming a father in the past because of my own doubts and fears. But now, I can't wait to be a father, with you by my side. Even if more challenges await us, I want to share this journey with you, every step of the way."

A surge of emotion wells up inside you as memories of the past two years together start flashing through your mind. It was after an unexpectedly sweet encounter with a toddler at the park while painting, that you first brought up the idea of having children to Jungkook. He was initially apprehensive, recalling that neither of you had considered children when you first married for various reasons. But he loved you deeply, so he promised to be open to the idea.

Together, you agreed that rushing into such a significant decision as having a baby wouldn't be wise, considering it was an entirely new venture for both of you. However, over time, through therapy sessions, ongoing exposure to children, and heartfelt discussions, you both gradually felt more prepared and ready to finally welcome this new chapter in your life.

"Jungkook, I…," you pause, knowing that what you're about to share is something you've been bottling up all day, a dream waiting for the perfect moment to be revealed. "I have a feeling things might be different this time."

His eyes widen in surprise, a spark of curiosity igniting within them. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, your voice trembling with mixed emotions. "I mean... today, I took a test. It was positive."

Jungkook's breath catches in his throat, excitement dancing in his eyes before quickly filling with tears of joy. "You mean...?"

You nod, a couple of tears streaming down your cheeks. "Yes, Kook. We're going to have a baby."

In an instant, Jungkook pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. His laughter mingles with your tears as you cling to each other, overwhelmed with happiness.

"I can't believe it," he whispers, pressing a kiss on top of your head. "We're going to be parents."

You nod against his shoulder, the news feeling just as surreal to you as it does to him. "Together, Kook. We're going to be parents."

As you lie under the starlit sky, wrapped in each other's arms and the promise of a new life growing within you, you know that this night will forever be etched in your hearts.

"I love you, and I can't wait to meet our baby," Jungkook says softly, placing a gentle hand on your stomach.

"I love you too." Cradling his face in your hands, you lean in and press your lips gently against his.

With the first month of your pregnancy underway, joy overwhelms you as you and Jungkook share the news with close family and friends.

"I can't believe it! You're finally joining the parent club," Yoongi teases, a mischievous glint in his eye as he recalls his own experience with twin girls. "Get ready for sleepless nights and endless diaper changes."

Taehyung chimes in eagerly, "And I demand to be their godfather! I'll teach your child everything about art and creativity."

"Hey, I think I can handle that part pretty well myself," you playfully interject, gesturing to your personal artwork hanging on the walls.

Taehyung grins, "I suppose you have a point there. But seriously, if you ever need help with anything, you know I'm here."

Jungkook chuckles warmly and pats Taehyung on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. That means a lot."

Yoongi smirks, leaning back in his chair. "Your kid will have the best of both worlds Jungkook—__'s artistic flair and your… well, whatever you bring to the table."

"Muscles," you say with a cheeky smirk. "He'll bring the muscles."

The second month arrives fast, but it's not as cheery as the first. Morning sickness kicks in full force, testing your patience and resilience.

Jungkook becomes your pillar of support, always ready with ginger tea and comforting words.

"You're doing great, sweetheart," he reassures you, rubbing your back gently as you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I feel terrible," you admit, tears welling up in your eyes. "I just wish our baby was already here."

"We'll get through this together," Jungkook says softly, planting a kiss on your forehead. "And hey, at least we're getting really good at making ginger tea!"

You manage a weak laugh, grateful to have him by your side.

By the third month, your bump begins to show. Despite your mixed feelings about your changing body, you can't help but feel wonder and amazement at the miracle growing inside you.

"Look at this," Jungkook whispers, gently placing his hand on your belly. "Our little one is growing so fast."

You glance down at his hand, then back up at him with a soft smile. "I know. It's incredible, isn't it? Sometimes it feels like just yesterday we found out. I can't wait to meet them."

Jungkook nods, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Me too. I want to teach them everything I know. I wonder what they'll be like."

You chuckle softly, imagining the possibilities. "Who knows? Maybe they'll have your sense of adventure and my love for creativity. Or maybe they'll be completely different from both of us, which will be okay too."

He grins, pressing a gentle kiss on your belly. "We'll love them no matter what, no doubt about it."

It's the fourth month when you feel your energy returning and renewed optimism as morning sickness subsides. You and Jungkook take walks in the park, hand-in-hand, discussing baby names and nursery decor.

"I think we should go with a woodland theme for the nursery," Jungkook suggests, swinging your intertwined hands as the crisp autumn leaves crunch beneath your feet.

"Sounds perfect," you agree, smiling at his enthusiasm. "We could have little animal decorations and maybe even a mural of a forest. Taehyung hasn't been subtle about wanting to paint the room for us."

"Definitely," Jungkook replies, his eyes bright with excitement. "He'd probably add his own artistic touch too, knowing him."

You chuckle softly, imagining Taehyung's vibrant and whimsical style adorning the nursery walls. "That would be amazing. Our baby would have the most creative room ever."

As you walk, you discuss more details—what kind of crib to get, whether to use soft pastels or earthy tones, and even what kind of mobile would best fit the woodland theme. Jungkook talks about how he wants to try building some of the furniture himself, adding a personal touch to the nursery.

"I want our baby to know how much love went into creating their space one day," he says, squeezing your hand gently.

"I can't wait to see it all come together," you sigh.

Jungkook stops walking and pulls you into a gentle hug, resting his chin on top of your head. "I can't wait either," he whispers.

“Hey,” you say softly, pulling back slightly from his embrace to meet his deep coffee-black eyes. “What would you say if we went home and did something we haven’t been able to do for a little while?”

You then wrap your arms around his neck with a playful smile.

"You mean…sex?” Your husband's eyes widen as he begins to grasp the extent of your suggestion. “But would that be…”

“It’s safe,” you confirm, “Dr. Kim says it’s completely okay and lots of couples do it. No need to worry.”

Jungkook's prior concern washes away, replaced by shock the moment he hears the words drop from your lips. “You asked Seokjin about this?! Our friend?" His eyebrows knit together in confusion and mild disbelief.

“Well, why wouldn’t I?” You chuckle at how cute he looks. “He’s been our doctor for years, Kook. Why wouldn’t I ask him?”

“I know, but it’s…Seokjin.”

“Honey, come on,” you say, attempting to reason with the man. “Are you still mad at him for questioning your sexual ability all those months ago? When we asked his advice on how to increase our chances of conception? You know he didn’t mean it to be anything hurtful.”

“Maybe I’m still irritated about it,” Jungkook pouts. “I guess I’m being petty though. I know he was trying to help.”

“Well, in any case, he was wrong, wasn’t he?” You subtly gesture to your stomach. “Seeing as I’m pregnant with our baby.”

Jungkook's mood seems to lift again as his hands travel down to grip your waist. A playful grin spreads across his face. “I think we should go home now and see if we can prove him even more wrong. What would you say about us having twins?”

You laugh, easily reading between the lines. “Have you been talking to Kim Taehyung? It doesn’t work like that and you know it. You can’t just make love to me while I’m pregnant and expect two babies instead of one. B+ for effort though.”

“Damn, B+? You’re a tough grader, baby. Good thing I might know a thing or two of what you like to get that reaccessed.” He then kisses you before granting you a chance to respond, deepening it within a second.

You feel a tightening build in your core as his tongue smoothly invites itself to slip between the seam of your lips. And despite literally being in the middle of a park, you moan immediately, tugging at a few strands of his hair. A low groan elicits from him as you do this.

Thank god most of the people have left for dinner by now.

“No,” you suddenly mumble, breaking your heated kiss. “This isn’t how we like to do it. We need to go home. Please, let's go home, Kook.”

Jungkook merely smiles in response, takes your hand in his, and quickly leads you to the car where he drives you both home.

That night, as the brisk autumn wind howls outside, your husband doesn't hesitate to take the lead as he makes love to you with all of his being. And by the end of it all, when you both come, you can visibly see the dried tears on both of each other's cheeks.

"Looks like we're starting to turn into two cry babies," you break the silence first.

"I think so too," Jungkook replies, a tad bit breathless. "Is that okay?"

"Of course. As long as you're okay with it too."

"Can't think of a single reason for it not to be." Your husband buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing your neck lightly. "I love you, __, so much if you couldn't already tell." He then looks at you and smiles, his eyes brimming with happiness.

"I love you too," you reply simply. "I always will."

In early December, during your fifth month of pregnancy, emotions run high as you start feeling the baby's first kicks. It's a touching reminder of the life growing within you, bringing tears of joy and occasional bouts of anxiety about the future.

"Feel that?" you ask Jungkook, taking his hand and placing it on your belly where the baby kicks again.

"Wow," he breathes, feeling the tiny nudges beneath his hand. "They're already making their presence known."

You nod, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within you. "Seems like they're eager to join the party."

Jungkook grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I guess they heard about your cooking and couldn't wait. They've got good taste already."

You laugh softly, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "Let's hope they also inherit my better sense of direction."

He raises an eyebrow teasingly. "Hey, I've got great instincts."

You shake your head with mock seriousness. "You once got lost in our own neighborhood, Kook."

Jungkook feigns offense, but his smile widens. "Alright, fair point. But I promise I'll navigate parenthood better."

"It's a little bit scary, isn't it?" you say softly.

"It is," Jungkook admits, his grip on your hand tightening reassuringly. "But we'll figure it out together, like we always do."

In the sixth month, you and Jungkook find yourselves nervously seated in the ultrasound room, with you on the medical bed and Jungkook in a chair beside you. The doctor moves the wand over your belly. After a few moments of silence, the screen lights up with images of your baby. Both of you gasp in awe as you see your baby's tiny fingers and toes, their heart beating steadily.

"Everything looks perfectly healthy," the doctor announces warmly, pointing out different features and measurements. "Would you like to know the gender?"

You glance over at your husband, whose eyes are fixed intently on the screen. "What do you think?" you ask. "Do we want to know?"

Jungkook's gaze shifts from the screen to you, reflecting both eagerness and nervousness in his eyes. "I think… yes," he says finally, his voice filled with anticipation.

The doctor smiles warmly and adjusts the ultrasound wand, focusing on a specific area. "Well, it looks like you're having a…"

The suspense lingers in the air as the doctor takes a moment before revealing the gender of your baby. When they do, you and Jungkook can't help but grin at each other.

It’s a girl.

The reality of impending parenthood settles in deeper during the seventh month as you and Jungkook diligently attend prenatal classes together. The sessions are eye-opening, filled with valuable information, but they also serve as stark reminders of the challenges awaiting you both. There are moments of frustration and tears as you grapple with sleepless nights and discomfort.

"I'm so tired," you confess one evening, sinking into Jungkook's arms with a sigh, the weight of exhaustion evident in your voice.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you, offering a comforting embrace. "Well, they say parenthood is good practice for functioning on minimal sleep, right?"

You can't help but chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood. "I think I need a lot more practice."

"You're doing an amazing job, baby," he assures you, his hands rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. "I'm truly in awe of you."

"Thanks, but I feel like a mess most of the time."

Jungkook shakes his head and gently guides you to look up at him. "If this is what a mess looks like, then I'll take it," he says softly, leaning in to steal a kiss.

In the eighth month, the physical strain of pregnancy becomes more apparent, introducing moments of fatigue and vulnerability. Everyday tasks like tying your shoes or putting a load of laundry in become increasingly challenging. However, with Jungkook as your husband, his attentive care shines through. He insists on handling all the chores without a second thought, from washing the dishes to preparing meals, often coaxing you to rest while he handles things.

"You really don't have to do all this," you protest with a weary smile as Jungkook scrubs a pot clean, his sleeves rolled up.

"I want to," he insists, flashing a reassuring grin over his shoulder.

You start to rise from the couch, still intent on helping, but Jungkook rushes over and gently guides you back onto the cushions. His touch is both firm and tender.

"Please, just relax, honey," he says softly, kneeling beside you. His hands find yours, warm and comforting, as he gives them a light kiss.

"But-" you begin, a hint of resistance in your voice as you look up at Jungkook.

"I know this isn’t easy," he says, his expression softening with understanding. "But let me take care of you, okay? I've got this."

You sigh, torn between wanting to ease his burden and accepting his offer of support. "I just feel like I should be doing more," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration.

Jungkook shakes his head, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "You've already done so much," he reassures you, his gaze unwavering. "Let me handle things tonight. Tomorrow, we can tackle everything together again, okay?"

His words soothe the inner conflict within you, and you reluctantly nod, knowing he's right. "Okay," you concede softly, “Thank you.”

In the ninth month, you're surrounded by friends and family who gather at your house to celebrate your baby shower. The room is adorned with soft pastel decorations and delicate baby-themed accents, reflecting the joyous anticipation of your impending newborn.

"Look at you, all grown up and about to be a dad," Yoongi teases Jungkook, earning a playful swat on the arm from his wife.

Jungkook laughs, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess it's happening. Better start practicing my dad jokes, huh? Got any you haven’t used yet hyung?" He winks at Yoongi, who rolls his eyes in good-natured amusement.

Taehyung joins in, holding up a quirky baby outfit. "This would look adorable on your little one, don't you think?" he suggests with a grin, adding to the playful banter.

Jimin, always the entertainer, spins around the room, capturing everyone's attention. "I can't wait to spoil this baby rotten!" he exclaims with a mischievous grin, eliciting laughter from the group. "I'll be the best uncle ever, just you wait!"

Jungkook chuckles, wrapping an arm around you. "Yeah, we might have to keep an eye on Uncle Jimin's antics once this baby is born.”

Finally, the tenth month arrives, and you approach your due date with growing anticipation. One June morning, as you're bustling about the kitchen, an unfamiliar warmth between your legs startles you. Your heart skips a beat with excitement and a touch of nervousness as you realize what’s just happened.

"Jungkook!" you call out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungkook hurries into the kitchen, eyes widening as he sees the puddle on the floor. "Please tell me your water just broke and that's not just a spill," he says, his voice filled with a mix of concern and excitement.

You nod, feeling a rush of emotions. "I think so. We need to go to the hospital."

With swift action, Jungkook helps you gather your hospital bag and gently guides you to the car. The drive is filled with a mix of anticipation and supportive words from Jungkook, his hand firmly holding yours all the way. You focus on your breathing, trying to stay calm and centered as you prepare for the birth of your baby girl.

In the delivery room, surrounded by medical staff and with Jungkook by your side, you endure the intensity of labor. Hours pass in a whirlwind of effort and support, until finally, with a spirited cry, your baby girl enters the world.

As you hold her for the first time, a sense of overwhelming love washes over you both. "She's perfect," you whisper, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks.

Jungkook leans in for a quick peck before gently kissing your baby girl’s forehead. "Just like her mom," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

After much consideration, you both decide on the name Ara, a name that symbolizes beauty and grace, perfectly fitting for your precious daughter.

It's now mid-July, and the late afternoon sun bathes the living room in a soft, golden glow as Jungkook sways gently with Ara in his arms. It's hard to believe almost six weeks have passed since bringing your little angel home. Ara has recently started smiling, and you can't help but notice how much it resembles her father's. Her small frame seems even tinier against his broad chest now, her head nestled against his shoulder as if she were listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jungkook's movements are graceful and tender, his voice humming along to the lullaby as he continues dancing with your daughter. You lean against the doorway, a tender smile playing on your lips as you watch the scene unfold. Soft strains of a lullaby play in the background, blending with the sweet sound of your daughter's giggles while her tiny hands reach up to grasp Jungkook's fingers.

"Appa's dancing with you, sweetheart," you murmur, your voice filled with affection and pride.

Jungkook glances up, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of love and happiness. "She loves our little dance sessions, doesn't she?"

"She adores you," you reply softly, feeling a warm swell of love in your chest.

Seeing Jungkook, once uncertain about fatherhood due to his difficult past, now embracing your daughter with tenderness, fills you with pride. The love and devotion he pours into every sway speak volumes about the kind of father he has become – patient, nurturing, and utterly devoted.

As the lullaby reaches its gentle conclusion, Jungkook carefully lowers your daughter into her crib, tucking her in with a soft blanket. She coos softly, her eyelids fluttering as she settles into a peaceful sleep. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to us," he whispers before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Later that evening, after a leisurely dinner, you find yourselves nestled on the couch in the cozy warmth of your living room. A single lamp in the far corner casts soft shadows across Jungkook's face as he idly traces patterns on your arm, lost in thought.

"Hey," you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence that envelops you. "What's on your mind?"

Jungkook looks at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes hold a glint of contemplation.

"I was thinking… about Ara."

You nod encouragingly, "What about her?"

"She's going to grow up so fast," Jungkook muses, his voice laced with a hint of sentiment. "And… I can't help but imagine her with a little brother or sister someday."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a rush of emotions flooding through you. "You've been thinking about another baby?"

Jungkook nods, his gaze searching yours for understanding and reassurance. "Yeah. I mean, not right now, of course. But… in the future. I think Ara would love having a sibling to grow up with."

A soft smile graces your lips as you squeeze his hand gently. "I think so too. I'm sure she'd make a wonderful big sister."

He leans closer, his forehead brushing against yours in a gesture of intimacy and connection. "I just wanted to talk about it, you know? Make sure we're on the same page."

"We are," you assure him, "Whenever you're ready, I'm ready too."

Jungkook's lips find yours in a tender kiss, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I love you and I'm so happy we're finally starting a family. Thank you for making me a father."

a/n: Too sweet? Perhaps so, but it's how I roll 😎 haha anyway, if you were looking forward to a more detailed baby-making scene, well it's in the series so have at it lol. But now...I'm going to sleep. Maybe I'll open my requests for some more drabbles with the TLTD couple (or I'll make my own requests haha)

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