#but I can finally catch a break and come back

[snail-day]

Satoru doesn't do well with the idea of leaving you. Never has. Probably never will.

Even the short missions are enough to make him sulky, but the long ones? The ones where he’ll be away for days, maybe weeks? He turns into a whining mess. You wonder if he's always been like this, just never voiced it aloud to anyone before.

Packing takes three times longer than it should. Every time he tries to fold a shirt or zip his carry on, he ends up abandoning the task halfway through just to wrap his arms around you from behind, pressing his face into the crook of your neck with a pitiful little whine.

"I don't wanna go," he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, maybe saying it enough times might make the whole thing mission disappear. "You’re my little Pokémon, y'know? I should be able to just catch you in a ball and bring you with me."

You laugh, warm and breathless, reaching up behind you to card your fingers through his snowy hair. "You could try," you tease, and he groans dramatically, squeezing you tighter.

It’s not just joking, though. When you offer to come with him, he always gets a little quiet. A little stuck in his mind. Turning you around and pulling back just enough to look at you, and the way his bright blue eyes shimmer... God, it breaks your heart a little. He wants to say yes. You can see it in the way his hand trembles against your side. The way his pretty eyes scan your face. It's on the tip of his tongue.

But instead, he just shakes his head slowly, a wobbly little smile on his lips.

Because the thought of something happening to you, curse or no curse, makes his heart ache. Makes his mind wander a little too far for his liking.

What if he’s in the middle of a fight and someone targets you?

What if he’s too far away to reach you in time?

What if...?

"Can’t risk it," he finally says softly, thumb brushing back and forth against your hip, memorizing the feel of your soft skin. Maybe your scent will eventually be engrained in his mind. "You're... you’re everything, baby."

Already pulling you against his lean chest again, holding you so tightly you can barely breathe, mumbling "I love you" over and over against the crown of your head. His palm rubbing up and down your back in loose patterns. You almost think he's tearing up.

"I love you. I love you so much. Don’t forget, okay?" he murmurs between kisses to the top of your head. "Be safe. Call me if you even think something’s weird, kay? I’ll come running, promise."

You have to physically pry him off you just to get him to finish packing. And even then, he keeps glancing back at you every five seconds. Begging for one more hug. One more kiss. One more chance to touch you before he has to drag himself to the door.

By the time he actually gets to the door, he’s somehow hugging you again, despite your giggling protests, rocking you gently side to side in his arms, mumbling about how he’s going to miss you so bad he might just quit being a sorcerer and become your full-time house husband. (He’s only half joking.)

Finally, after a hundred kisses and whispered I love yous, he leans down one last time, nose brushing against yours, voice soft and almost trembling: "Be here when I get back, 'kay? I don’t wanna come home to a world without you."

But then, quieter, so quiet you nearly miss it he adds: "...And don’t... don’t forget about me either, yeah? Don’t find someone normal while I'm gone. Someone who doesn't leave. Someone who can give you the kind of life you deserve."

It’s said with a half-laugh, light and teasing, like he’s trying to play it off, but you can feel it in the way his arms tighten around you, the way his voice wavers. That tiny, hidden crack in the foundation of Satoru Gojo: The fear that being the strongest might mean ending up the loneliest too.

And even as he finally forces himself to step away, flashing you that big, blinding smile. You catch the flicker of sadness he tries so desperately to hide. Because no matter how strong he is, when it comes to you, Satoru’s always afraid that someday you’ll realize you deserve more than a man who keeps having to leave.

[lvl1l1]

hii, im really a sucker for arguments/angst imagine HAHA can I please have a request for LaDS guys where they made you flinch in an argument (^_^;)

LaDS men when you flinch during an argument

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader

content: arguments, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings if you squint

a/n: small break from the silly

Xavier

Xavier usually didn’t get worked up during arguments, he’d just observe.

He’d listen to everything you had to say, taking the words to heart but trying not to engage too much, especially when he noticed you were starting to get more animated.

This time, however, was different.

He was upset and he wanted you to know.

He wasn’t raising his voice, he wasn’t being mean or mocking but his face gave his inner conflict away.

You weren’t backing down and neither was he.

“I can hold my own and you know that Xavier, you’ve seen me in action.”

His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed by you,

“I’m not doubting that, not doubting you, I just need to know that you won’t get hurt.”

It’s like you two were talking right past each other,

“I won’t, we don’t need to be attached at the hip for you to know that!”

He turned around quickly,

“Yes but I want to be able to reach you quickly, to get to you in time-“

He took a fast, heavy step towards you, wanting you to see the sincerity and genuine concern on his face, what he didn’t anticipate was for you to flinch at his sudden approach.

He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he just… looked at you.

You stared up at him, hands balled up in front of you and he felt immense regret wash over him.

“You…”

He started but couldn’t finish the sentence, being at a loss for words.

You lowered your hands, trying to adapt a more relaxed stance,

“Xavier, I didn’t mean to…”

His head hung low now, his eyes covered by his bangs.

You could see his shoulders rise and fall with uneven breaths.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

“Xavier…”

You tried again, softer this time.

He didn’t respond, he was standing there, the internal conflict in his mind clear.

When his gaze finally met yours again, his expression left you breathless.

It wasn’t what you had expected, it wasn’t anger, not disappointed but aching.

“I would never…”

The words left him quietly, not able to voice out what exactly had gone down just now.

“I need you to believe that.”

“I do,”

You blurted out,

“It’s not your fault. You just surprised me and I-“

“I scared you.”

He finished for you.

“Even if I didn’t do it on purpose, I can’t just say that, that’s okay with me.”

You took a careful step closer, tension between the two of you starting to ease.

Xavier didn’t move, he just watched.

“I know you’re not trying to control me,”

You said.

“But I need you to trust the decisions I make. And that I can take care of myself and still come back to you.”

“I trust you.”

He murmured,

“But what if something happens and I’m not there? What if I won’t be able to reach you in time-“

He swallowed the “again” that was about to slip him,

He took a small breath and then looked down at his hands.

“…can I touch you?”

He asked, hesitantly.

“Just- your hand. If it’s okay.”

You immediately softened at that.

You nodded, yes.

“Of course.”

He inched closer, steps slow, making sure you took in every one of his movements.

His hand reached for yours, getting a hold of it as if it were something fragile.

He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb in an attempt to ground himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You held onto his hand tightly, squeezing.

“I’m glad you’re being open about your concern but don’t try and decide for me. You want to protect me and I want to protect you.”

The ghost of a smile showed on his lips.

He leaned closer, close enough for your breaths to mingle.

He whispered,

“I want to figure this out with you.”

And this time, when his hand lifted to touch your cheek, you leaned into it without hesitation.

Zayne

The silence between you and Zayne hung heavy in the hospital room, occasionally interrupted by the soft hums of the equipment around the room.

Your boyfriend had been trying, trying to get through to you.

Telling you to stop pushing your limits, to stop taking unnecessary risks.

Yet you brushed him off everytime.

And now the consequences sat between the two of you.

“You could’ve gotten seriously injured.”

His voice was laced with restrained emotion.

Your eyes were looking at everything but him, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“I know. I just didn’t think-“

“Exactly. You didn’t think.”

He interrupted you, voice sharper than what you were used to.

His eyes were cold behind his glasses,

“I kept trying to tell you-“

He went to adjust his glasses, hand raising.

But out of instinct, you flinched at the sudden movement.

It wasn’t a big reaction, barely a twitch but it was enough to gain Zayne’s attention.

He froze.

His face fell and any trace of anger and disappointment gone.

Instead, it was replaced by hurt.

He started,

“I wasn’t going to-“

A shaky exhale left him,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Zayne stood awkwardly, his shoulders were tense, guilt reflecting in his eyes.

You looked up at him.

“It’s okay.”

Your eyes met, relief finally easing onto his face.

Still, he didn’t dare to move.

“…are you sure?”

You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips.

That’s when he stepped forward.

This time, not to lecture and to fight but just to be there.

Rafayel

A storm cloud was starting to form in the room.

The tension thick because of something more akin to a misunderstanding than an argument. At least that’s how Rafayel saw it.

He was gesturing animatedly, his voice was getting a little more heated than intended as he tried to explain himself, it was unusual for him to get so worked up over something he himself considered trivial.

Your arms were crossed, your brows were furrowed, frustration written on your face.

With one especially sudden swing of his arm, you flinched.

You stepped back a bit and Rafayel felt himself freeze as his words were caught in his throat.

He was staring at you, confusion and concern displayed on his face.

“Why?”

His voice had quieted down, soft.

“What… why did you react like that?”

You couldn’t immediately answer.

You were standing still, feeling guilty at that urge that had overcome you.

It was an instinctive reaction, not something you had realised in time to stop.

Rafayel hesitated, he could feel his hands twitch with the urge to reach out to you, wanting to comfort you but doubt filled his mind.

He was torn between wanting to pull you close and giving you the space you might’ve needed.

“Have I ever made you feel unsafe?”

His question wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty, it was sincere, making your heartbreak even more.

The raw vulnerability in his tone simply had your heart aching.

His question hung between you two, it was his way of asking for reassurance.

You shook your head, whispering,

“No,”

You put your hand over your heart,

“No, Rafayel. Never. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

You could see some of the tension leave him.

The next time his eyes found yours, they were filled with the light echo of relief but also a hint of regret.

“I shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that.”

He stepped closer, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist, an attempt to test the waters.

“Can I… hold you? Or do you want some space?”

You offered him a small, comforting smile,

“Come here, you big baby.”

A sigh of relief left him and he stepped closer to pull you into an embrace.

His hand brushed through your hair, as if attempting to make all your pain and sorrows go away.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispered against your ear, his voice low and sincere.

Sylus

Sylus and you stood opposite of each other, his face was devoid of any emotion but you could see his eyes, dark with frustration, showing his true feelings.

You went on a mission he warned you about, recklessly pushing ahead without considering any risks.

And lo and behold, it had gone sideways.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his breath came in sharp, controlled bursts.

“Do you think this is a game?”

His voice was firm, his words sharp.

“I told you not to go, not alone, and what do you do?”

“I could handle it.”

Cutting him off, you tried to stand your ground, though you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

As he let out a frustrated exhale, he threw his hand up, running it through his hair.

His movement was so fast and controlled, that you couldn’t help but flinch back, instinctively shrinking away.

The man facing you froze.

For a moment that felt far longer than it actually was, the room felt suffocating.

He stared at you with wide eyes, caught between something you couldn’t quite make out and something softer, something making his chest ache.

He felt overwhelmed by guilt.

“You know, Id never hurt you, right?”

His question was barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, frustration replaced by something more vulnerable.

Your answer was caught in your throat.

You felt his gaze on you, watching you carefully, analysing your every move like you were something fragile, small.

Something to protect.

After a second, Sylus took a step back, creating some space between the two of you, giving you room to breathe.

He felt the weight of his actions making his shoulders sag.

He wanted to reach out, make sure you were okay but something in the back of his mind told him not, to not scare you further.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The regret in his voice shining through,

“I was worried. And I often don’t know how to get that through to you without pushing.”

You lowered your head, letting his words settle, understanding him.

“I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking it seriously. I was just-“

You stopped yourself, inhaling, to collect your thoughts,

“I guess I just didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t handle it.”

Sylus watched you, his features softening.

He quietly said,

“You’re strong.”

A slow exhale,

“But you should know you have nothing to prove to me. All I ask for is to know that you’re safe.”

You searched for his eyes, finding worry and care still there.

They were always there.

Under all of it, even on the rare occasions that his frustrations got the better of him.

He muttered an apology, slowly closing the space between you.

“This won’t happen again.”

He kept up the eye contact as his hand reached out.

You didn’t flinch this time.

It came to rest on your shoulder, the slight pressure from his heavy hand grounding you.

It felt like an unspoken promise between the two of you.

He’d be by your side no matter what.

Caleb

Caleb’s voice was thick with concern, frustration and something he tried not to reveal to you often: fear.

He wasn’t one to argue, never one to raise his voice or escalate things, not when it came to you.

But this, this was about your safety and he couldn’t just stand to the side and not do anything.

“You’re not listening to me.”

His voice was steady, yet the edges let his worry show.

“You could’ve been hurt and you don’t even seem to care.”

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, brows furrowed.

You didn’t want to back down, wanting to stand your ground but you knew he was only acting like this because he cared.

Yet the ache of knowing he still doubted your capabilities pushed you to keep going.

“I can take care of myself.”

You said, frustration overtaking your voice,

“You’ve seen me in action before.”

In a moment of bad judgment, he thrust his arm out to emphasise his point, the movement swift.

Before he could even finish speaking, you flinched.

Caleb halted at that, words dying in his throat, eyes widening in realisation.

He felt his chest constrict slightly, breath hitching.

No, I-“

His voice cracked as he took a step back, face twisted in a display of guilt.

“I’m so sorry.”

He murmured, struggling to look you in the eyes.

Before you knew it, he dropped to his knees in front of you, face pale.

The slight tremble in his hands didn’t escape you, as he reached for you, not wanting to overstep but trying to lay his heart bare to you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never-“

He stopped mid sentence, shaking his head,

“I should’ve thought before… moving like that, acting like that.”

Your heart was pounding as you watched him bow his head in front of you, remorse clear on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

He said again, voice desperate.

“Please, just… tell me you’re okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

He trailed off, wide eyes looking up at you, searching for a sign, any sign that you didn’t fear him, didn’t hate him.

He had to know that he didn’t destroy something he held so dear.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reached out, patting his head.

He stiffened at first, he was hesitant, but your warm touch seemed to reel him in.

“I’m okay.”

You reassured,

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just a reflex.”

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb wasn’t looking for reassurance, he was looking for forgiveness.

“Forgive me? Please?”

His voice was low, unsure, letting his insecurities and vulnerability show.

You knelt beside him, meeting his gaze with softness.

Cupping his face, you felt the warmth coming off him.

His breath was starting to steady slightly.

“Nothing to forgive you for…”

Your quiet voice reached his ears,

“I know you’d never hurt me, Caleb.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, resembling a puppy.

You closed the last of the space between you two, resting your forehead against his.

You and Caleb didn’t need words to understand one another.

[neeeooon]

bllk characters when we randomly kiss them (and engulf them in a bear bug) out of nowhere, it could be a very soft and sweet kiss or we kiss them like it’s the end of the world :3

maybe with isagi, rin, sae, chigiri, reo, and nagi?

cuteee thank you for the req!! 💛

when you’re randomly affectionate

bf bllk x gn!reader. fluff

isagi yoichi

-> you can’t help it. his outfit had a wrinkle that gave him a little fabric belly, he had a star-shaped pinkle patch beneath his right eye, and his sprout grew a friend

-> suddenly you’re launching yourself at your unsuspecting boyfriend, pinning his arms to his sides as you encase him in a bear hug

-> “wh—y/n?! can’t.. breathe…” you squeeze harder until you feel a crack and release him, isagi going dramatically limp against you

-> “please tell me that was your back and not your neck.” “owwww.”

itoshi rin

-> he was focused on analyzing a professional soccer match, and you know better than to interrupt his “me time” but you can’t stop the urges

-> “rin?” he blinks. you wait a couple seconds until a commercial break comes on, then try again. “rin?” “yes?”

-> you don’t remember crawling over to him but suddenly your arms are looped around his neck and shoulders, pulling him against you as you kiss him like your life depends on it

-> rin takes a second to process what’s happening before sneaking his hand into your hair and tugging you closer, kissing you harder. when you finally part, you’re a blushing mess. “sorry. i just really wanted to kiss you.” “uh-huh..”

itoshi sae

-> he’s in the kitchen cooking eggs because “protein, y/n. you need it.” when you approach from behind

-> you aren’t exactly trying to be stealthy as you wrap your arms around his waist. sae glances briefly over his shoulder, and you take that moment to place a collection of soft, almost shy kisses against his cheek, jaw, and the corner of his lips

-> he hums as he plates the eggs, moving slow so you can follow without having to let go of his waist. “feeling clingy?” you kiss his clothed shoulder in reply, smiling when his chuckle rumbles through you. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

chigiri hyoma

-> chigiri steps out of the bathroom, towel ruffling his damp hair, and you’re overcome with the urge to hug

-> “hyoma,” you drawl as you stumble off the bed and flop against him, nestling your face against the crook of his neck and kissing whatever your lips come in contact with. “you smell good.”

-> “i just got out of the shower—y/n, where are you, oh god.” he blurts as you walk him back to the bed, pushing all your weight on him so you fall into the mattress together. “i have to dry my hair.”

-> “stay,” you hum as you innocently lay against him, arms still hugging him tight. “just for a minute. i need this.” “… fine. one minute.”

mikage reo

-> it’s the end of the world. your boyfriend stepped away to take a phone call fifteen minutes ago. who takes phone calls for fifteen minutes?

-> when he returns, ready to apologize for making you wait, he instead screams when you jump off the bed and directly onto him. caught off guard, he doesn’t have time to catch you properly, and you both come crashing to the ground

-> “ow,” he moans as you lay on top of him, smothering him with your body as you decorate his face with your desperate kisses. “i almost died, reo!” “i was gone ten minutes..” “fifteen, actually, and that’s fourteen more than usual!”

-> he chuckles into your hair and kisses you back. “sorry, sweetheart. next time, i’ll tell them my partner is chronically clingy and needs my full attention.” “thank you!”

nagi seishiro

-> you don’t know why you’re suddenly desperate to attach yourself to your boyfriend, but you aren’t going to resist

-> “y/n—oh.” nagi doesn’t stand a chance as you roll over and wrap your limbs around him like he’s a tree. you bury your face against his chest and squeeze, trying to get as close as possible. “need hugs?”

-> he feels you nod against him and somehow manages to slip his arms from your demon grip. nagi lazily hugs you back and places a kiss to your head. “mmm. comfy?” “yeah.” “good.”

[suksatoru]

it takes you a handful of minutes before you notice satoru's head resting against your thigh. he's staring off into space. there's a barely noticeable pout on his lips that replaces his trademark grin, and he looks... dejected.

albeit a little clumsily, you slip out of your seat as quietly as you can and lower yourself onto the ground beside him. satoru perks up once he sees you next to him, and everyone else around you two converses noisily, oblivious to you two crouched under the table like little kids.

you give your boyfriend a curious tilt of your head, and he smiles sadly.

"hi there, pretty."

"hi. who are we hiding from?"

there's a flush to your cheeks that is entirely from the drinks you've had tonight. your eyes are a misty haze — and in your intoxicated state, you fail to notice satoru's thumb brush over the small, velvet box in his hand as he tucks it back into his pocket.

tonight had been the night satoru wanted to propose to you. he'd give himself at least a dozen pep talks between waking up and picking you up for your umpteenth date — then, he'd taken you to your favorite restaurant, a modest little place tucked into the outer edges of the city.

he thought it was perfect. despite all the extravagant things that came along with dating the satoru gojo, he wanted your proposal to be personal and special. just the two of you.

what he didn't expect was to run into all of your sorcerer friends and co-workers.

satoru supposes it is kind of his fault for not telling anyone about his plans to propose to you tonight. of course, he planned to tell everyone after you two were formally engaged, but he never considered the possibility that you two could run into others.

before he knew it, tables were being pushed together and chairs were being dragged around to make room for everyone else to join. shoko, suguru, and a few other of your co-workers had all finished up a late night mission and headed to the nearest restaurant — which inconveniently happened to be the one you and satoru were dining at.

"no one in particular," satoru finally says, trying his best to mask his disappointment with a dorky grin as he pokes your cheek.

you catch his hand, eyes squinting as you look closer at him.

"you look sad. is it because i ate your spinach dip?"

your boyfriend gasps, loudly and deeply offended by the accusation as you break out into a silly giggle, telling him to shush before everyone eating notices you two under the table.

"is food the only supposed source of my emotions?" satoru laughs, and you shrug with a slanted grin

"if the shoe fits."

"oh, you are asking for it little miss—"

his hands find your sides, and you quickly cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as you squirm against him. eventually, shoko's head dips under the table, and her loud burst of laughter manages to distract satoru enough to allow you to pry yourself out of his grip.

"come on, satoru! you didn't even try the chocolate fudge cake yet. nanami accidentally ordered three, let's try and snag one to take home." you suggest with a grin, rising on wobbly legs from under the table and wiggling back into your seat as satoru follows

"ooo — quick! before utahime eats it all!"

his first attempt at proposing was a total fail. but, honestly, satoru can't even be mad. you had a great time tonight with him and all of your friends, so what's there to be disappointed about?

his next try will be better, he's sure of it. and maybeee somewhere on a remote island where the chances of running into anyone else was in the negatives.

in a few years, satoru's hopeful he'll be able to look back at this moment and laugh about it with you. so, he'll forget about the ring in his pocket for now and focus on the present — which was competing in the 'who can eat the most cake without barfing' competition against you.

spoiler alert: he ends up winning :P.... fatass <3

[lynhub]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° dean winchester trying to keep you quiet

mature content

IMAGINE... dean’s hand was clamped tightly over your mouth as his hips rocked behind you, slow and deep but relentless. your muffled whines slipped past his fingers, filling the quiet of the bunker bedroom. dean’s grunts were low and warm against your ear, sending shivers down to your core.

“jesus, woman,” he huffs, his breath is hot, “you feel so damn good.”

you tried to push your hips back against him, desperate for more, but dean’s free hand gripped your hip, holding you still firmly. his mouth brushing against your ear, his voice dropping even lower. “easy there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand flexing on your mouth when you whine. “sammy’s right next door, remember that? gotta be good. gotta be quiet.”

you could practically hear your heart beating against your ribs, the risk of being caught making everything more intense. dean continues to thrust into you slower, deeper, the intense drag of him sliding in and out pulling a broken, muffled moan from your throat. his hand however, stays firmly planted over your mouth, a low chuckle falling from his lips when he hears the needy sound from you. “atta girl,” he rasp, hips snapping harder. “take it – just like that.”

dean's fingers seem to tighten even more over your mouth as he sets a new pace against you, the motion making your knees tremble. his breath is ragged and hot against your neck. “god, baby,” he groans, his voice wrecked, “you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good.” his words send a need pulsing through your body. 

he’s making you feel so good, his hand on your hip sliding down to rub at your clit with a gentle, steady pressure. your body arches into his touch, eager for more, but the moment you try to fight the sound building in your throat, a loud, needy whine slips past his fingers. 

“you’re killin’ me, baby.” he mutters, his voice thick with desire, pace quickening.

your body trembles, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point of breaking. you can’t think straight anymore, all you can think about is dean, the way his fingers move on your clit, pulling desperate whimpers from your mouth under his hand. every thrust, meets that sweet spot inside you pushing you closer over to the edge.

he huffs against your neck sensing your impending release, his hips pick up, snapping against yours with reckless abandon. “let go, i got you, baby.”

with his hand still moving between your legs, your body responding on instinct. the coil snaps and you come undone, your back arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. dean grunts, his thrust turning even more frantic as he chases his own release. he buries his face into your neck as he spills inside you. his hips stuttering as he groans deeply, the sound reverberating through the quiet bedroom. his hand finally falling from your mouth.

before you can even fully catch your breath, the sound of a loud bang echoes through the door, followed by sam’s agitated, muffled voice shouting, “for the love of god, can you two keep it down?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

WE BACK! first writing in like almost two weeks i think? idk don't quote me enjoy, i will be posting some more :)

my main masterlist if interested.

my dean winchester masterlist if interested.

[just-nc-tea]

nine and three quarters pt. 3 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⭑.ᐟ Roommate to Lovers - Park Sunghoon Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross – you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. Then one night, everything shifts. A blurred memory, a moment of fear—and Sunghoon catching you before you can fall. Suddenly, it’s not awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe—just maybe—home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person.

ᝰ genre. Figure skater!Sunghoon, college sports, angst, hurt/comfort, SO MUCH FLUFF!!! FINALLY!!! ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of alcohol, hospital visits, mentions of rape, mentions of date-rape-drugs, mentions of the police, panic attacks, eating disorder, psychologists .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ features. Mark, Johnny, Taeyong & Jungwoo from NCT, Woonyoung and Rei from IVE ᝰ word count. 25.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 1 --⟢ PART 2

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Flowers.  There were flowers. You bought flowers. That was the first thing Sunghoon noticed when he came home after class a few days after the break ended. He dropped his bag onto one of the chairs in the kitchen and took two big steps towards the window. A small bouquet of purple flowers was standing in the vase he bought you at the market. The scent of the flowers was sweet and hardy, filling the kitchen.

The next thing he noticed was how full the kitchen was. The basket you used for fruit, which was standing on the kitchen table, was usually empty since fresh produce is quite expensive, but today it was filled to the brim with apples, bananas, mangos, and tangerines. The fridge was full of vegetables and two cartons of eggs.  He blinked into the fridge. This was a lot of food. You were barely able to eat a plate of eggs and cucumber, so why did you buy so much? How did you carry all of this upstairs? The elevator was still broken, and he had noticed that just walking up the 4 flights of stairs without a bag was already hard for you, so how did you…

“Sunghoon!” A warm palm clapped gently against his back, and Sunghoon turned with a quiet jolt. Mark was standing in front of him with a big grin adorning his face. “Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, a little breathless. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Mark shrugged with a smile, sitting down on a kitchen chair. “Y/N asked me to go to the market with her and I didn’t want her to carry all of the stuff alone, so I just came along.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing again at the overflowing fruit basket and the fridge. “This is a lot of food.” Mark laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I kinda went overboard. She let me pick up too much stuff. She said you two eat together sometimes, so I figured—why not get enough for both of you? Johnny and Taeyong gave her money for groceries anyway. I just made her spend it.”

Sunghoon gave a soft huff of laughter, eyes still on the fridge. “It’s just… a lot. She usually doesn’t—” “I know,” Mark cut in, voice softer now.  Sunghoon turned to look at him, but Mark’s gaze was fixed on the fruit basket. “She’s trying,” Mark said quietly. “But it helps when someone’s eating with her. Even if it’s just rice and cucumber. Even if she can’t finish everything. Just... not doing it alone makes it easier. So I thought maybe if we bought enough for the two of you, you could start cooking and eating together? I know you aren't really that close with Y/N, or well, I don't really know, Y/n and I haven't exactly been talking a lot, she was kinda avoiding us all. But I was hoping you could maybe just…help a bit.” Sunghoon swallowed thickly. He didn’t know you were avoiding your brother. He was wondering why Mark was never over. When he first met Mark, it seemed like you two spent a lot of time together. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to help.” “You are.” Mark looked up and met his eyes, serious for a moment. “She told you what’s happening. That’s big.” Sunghoon nodded. “I’ll cook with her.”

Mark smiled again, this time smaller. “That always worked when we were teens. Even if I was eating three servings of curry, and she was barely finishing her salad. It was still better.” Footsteps echoed down the hallway and both of them looked up just as you stepped into the kitchen, towel still around your neck and damp hair brushing your collarbone. You were wearing one of Sunghoon’s shirts. He said nothing and tried to not react outwardly, but something fluttered low in his chest. Sometimes, when you had all the shirts you used as pyjamas in the wash, you took one of Sunghoon’s. He had so many shirts from training camps or competitions that were in his pyjama drawer that he didn’t really care if you stole one once in a while.  “Hey,” you said, blinking at the two of them. “You didn’t put the mangoes in the fridge?” “You didn’t say where you wanted them,” Mark shot back easily. “Cold mangoes are elite, and you know it.” You moved toward the fruit basket, pushing your towel back from your shoulders. Sunghoon moved a step to the side to let you open the fridge door.  As you opened the door, Mark’s eyes landed on the meal calendar you’d stuck on the fridge. His expression twisted into a grin.

“Are those the monkey stickers from Taeyong?” You froze. “Mark—” “Oh my god, you’re actually using them.” “They’re cute!” you defended, cheeks a little pink as you grabbed the sheet and stuck it to the fridge underneath Sunghoon’s new magnet from the aquarium in Busan. He was quite touched that you thought of him while you were at home. He imagined being home, visiting doctors, even if they were people you knew, wasn’t the most pleasant thing to do, and when you did something nice, you thought of him. He felt all giddy thinking about it. Mark laughed and threw his hands up. “You know what? You’re right. They are better than the strange dinosaurs Hyuck bought you. I am still haunted by the T Rex that had the head of another dinosaur in its mouth. You really didn’t have to use them.” “But Donghyuck Oppa bought them for me. And I didn’t want to be ungrateful.”, you huffed and leaned onto the counter next to Sunghoon. Your arms were touching, and it sent a warm sensation up his arm.  Then Sunghoon’s stomach grumbled. Loudly.

The sound broke through the room like a slapstick sound effect, and you both froze. Then slowly, so slowly,you turned to look at him. His ears turned pink immediately. “…I guess I’m hungry,” he admitted, voice sheepish. You blinked at him, something gentle dancing behind your eyes. Then, very softly you asked: “Do you want to eat?” There was a pause. Not a long one. Just long enough for him to meet your eyes and realize you weren’t just asking him if he was hungry. You were asking if he wanted to eat with you. Sunghoon swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Spaghetti?” Mark, silently watching from the other side of the kitchen, perked up. “You two want me to chop something?”

You nodded without looking away from Sunghoon. “Only if you’re okay staying a little longer.” Mark grinned. “I’m not moving unless you kick me out.” Sunghoon smiled too, just a little. “We could use the veggies for the sauce. One of my friend’s girlfriends makes a protein bolognese for Jake all the time. Like, shredded carrots and lentils with beef.” “I’ll get the cutting board.” You moved to the cabinet and started pulling out the dry pasta. Sunghoon turned on the stove, filled a pot with water, and placed it on the burner. “Hey, could I turn on some music?” Mark asked after he washed a bell pepper. “Sure.”, you hummed beside Sunghoon, who was busy cutting the beef he still had in the fridge. You looked up at Sunghoon. “Can we use your speaker?” you asked softly. “Yeah,” Sunghoon said, a little distracted as he trimmed the fat from the beef. “It’s on my desk.”

He blinked a second later, realizing what he’d just said. Wait. His room. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. Mark, hearing him, raised a brow but didn’t comment. Sunghoon had just started mentally cataloging the chaos in his room when you returned, speaker in hand, looking completely unbothered. You handed it to Mark. He blinked. “Did you… find it okay?” “Yeah. It was right where you said.” You nodded and just turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce.

Mark hooked up his phone, and music started playing—something upbeat and chill, some indie R&B track.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second longer. The soft sway of your hair, the way your head bobbed gently to the beat while you stirred. You looked calm and so soft. A strand of your hair was falling forward, and he had the impulse to tuck it behind your ear. Somehow, he really had a thing for your hair. Whenever you were watching TV together, he somehow had a strand of hair between his fingers.  He blinked and quickly looked away before either of you could catch him smiling.

────────────────────── Mark left after dinner and took the music with him.  You stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up, drying a plate while Sunghoon rinsed the next one. He passed it to you without a word, hands brushing for the briefest second.  “Thanks for cooking,” you said softly, folding the towel around the plate. “That was really good.” He gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for helping. You ate a full portion.” Your eyes flicked up to his, surprised for a moment. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I did.” And then, with a little breath of something like pride, you turned and padded to the fridge.

Sunghoon watched as you peeled another monkey sticker from the sheet tucked into the side of the calendar and pressed it beside today’s date. It joined two others already in a row, little grinning faces in cartoon yellow. He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. His chest went warm, gentle, and a little achy. You glanced over your shoulder. “It’s kind of dumb, I know.” “It’s not,” he said quickly. You turned fully, arms crossed lightly over your front. The corners of your mouth twitched. “It’s a little dumb.” “It’s cute,” he corrected, flicking a bit of water off his fingers in your direction.  You huffed a quiet laugh, your gaze dropping for a second. 

Sunghoon picked up the last pan and scrubbed at it slowly, the tension in the room softening. The silence between you felt different now. Not awkward. He couldn’t really name the feeling, but he started to really like feeling like this. Comfortable.  You leaned next to him a few minutes later, hip brushing his. A little closer than you would’ve stood a few weeks ago. He liked that. “You want tea?” you asked. He turned to you. “Only if we drink it on the sofa and watch people get dramatic over nothing again.” You grinned. “It’s not nothing. Their friend literally faked a pregnancy and then ghosted the guy.” “Yeah, but like. He kind of deserved it.” You snorted and went to fill the kettle. Sunghoon turned back to the sink and finished the dishes. He didn’t say it yet. Not out loud. But he was proud of you. So proud he felt like his chest couldn’t quite contain it.

────────────────────── The sound of blades scraping against the ice echoed sharply and hollowly through the near-empty rink. Sunghoon skated to the barrier and braced his hands on it, chest heaving. His reflection in the plexiglass was sweaty, flushed and scowling. He squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t landed a clean jump all morning. Two weeks ago, he’d flown. His legs had been light, movements clean, choreography crisp.  Today he couldn’t even get through the first half of the routine. He slipped on a stupid step sequence and landed hard enough that his shoulder still ached. He pushed away from the barrier, gliding back to the center of the rink. His Coach wasn’t watching right now. He was yelling at one of the juniors on the other side. Sunghoon exhaled. Focus. The music started again, low and distant through the speakers. He took off, arms slicing through the air, each push of his skate a little too forceful. Too much. He turned into the first jump. And hit the ice again, hard. Flat on his side. “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, clutching his elbow as the cold bled through his clothes. He stayed down for a second too long, his breath fogging up in front of his face. “What the hell is wrong with me,” he muttered, sitting up slowly. He could see a smear on the ice where he landed. His heart felt like it was rattling in his ribs. Anger, embarrassment, frustration. He pulled off his gloves, hands shaking slightly, and ran them over his face. The cold stung his skin. His eyes burned too. He climbed to his feet, teeth clenched. He didn’t know why he thought today would be better. ────────────────────── The figure skaters had cleared out half an hour ago. He could hear the ice hockey players in the rink's changing room. They would be out here in a few minutes. But Sunghoon didn’t move. He was sprawled on the ice, limbs spread in all directions, his chest rising and falling quickly. His program music played on repeat, louder now that the other skaters were gone. He barely twitched when a sharp hiss of skates sounded beside him, followed by a spray of snow that landed all over his glove. “Dude,” Heeseung’s voice rang out over him. “What happened to you?” Sunghoon blinked up at the ceiling. “I won’t pass the tryouts.” Heeseung stared down at him. “That’s funny,” he said flatly. “Because you said the exact same thing before Nationals and you second.” Sunghoon’s laugh was more of a groan. “Yeah, and I still don’t know how I pulled that off.” Heeseung crouched beside him on the ice, propped on the butt of his stick, brows raised. “Are you falling again or just giving up entirely?”

Sunghoon didn’t move. Just sighed and stared at the rafters overhead. “I’m not giving up. I just can’t land anything today. It’s like my body forgot what edges are.” Heeseung let out a low whistle. “I didn't know you're that dramatic.” “I’m serious,” Sunghoon muttered. “Tryouts are in two weeks, and I can’t even make it through one clean run. I barely made it through the warm-up jumps today. What if I already peaked?” “You said the same thing before Nationals.” “Yeah, and maybe I did peak there. Maybe that was it. My fluke moment.” Heeseung rolled his eyes. “You always say that. Then you pull a quad out of nowhere and land it like it’s nothing. Maybe you're just stressed. I mean the Olympic team is crazy. I would be stressed.” Sunghoon finally sat up, resting his arms on his knees. His gloves were wet from the ice, fingertips numb. “I am stressed, but I was stressed before the nationals too,” he said, quieter. “But it was different. I was worried about Y/N. And now she’s doing better. She’s eating. There’s a monkey sticker on that stupid meal calendar every single day. Sometimes even two. So I shouldn’t feel like this anymore.” Heeseung studied him for a second. “But you still do?” Sunghoon looked away. “I guess. It’s not her. She’s fine. I’m just… off.” Heeseung didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, softly, “You sure it’s not still her?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. “I’m not—no. I can’t—she’s my roommate, Heeseung.” Heeseung shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you don’t care. You’re just not used to caring this much about someone off the ice.” “I care about you,” Sunghoon shot back defensively “Yeah,” Heeseung deadpanned, “but you don’t glue monkey stickers to a fridge for me.” Sunghoon’s ears went pink. “I’m just saying,” Heeseung went on, “You’re still you, Hoon. Just… someone else has your whole focus now. Someone who glues Monkey stickers to calendars.” Sunghoon didn’t answer. Not because he disagreed. But because he didn’t know how to say that the idea scared him just as much as it warmed him. He picked at the edge of his skate and stood. “Tryouts are in two weeks.” “And if you play your cards right, monkey stickers are forever,” Heeseung grinned, skating backward. “Shut up.”

──────────────────────

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon finally stepped inside.

He dropped his bag quietly by the door, the soft clink of his keys the only sound in the quiet. He slipped off his shoes and let the door close behind him with a soft thud. It was close to midnight. You were asleep. Probably. Sunghoon padded into the kitchen on socked feet. He felt a little sore from the extra reps and the weight session in the gym. He'd showered at the rink, taken a half-hour nap on the office couch while Heeseung’s girlfriend typed away at her computer. Sunghoon really liked her. Heeseung and her have been dating for almost a year now. When he first met her, she was sitting in a wheelchair. Heeseung told him that she had gone through several surgeries after a car crash when she was younger.  The crash cut her career short.  He often had to think about that. How sometimes he wished he had a reason to just stop skating and get a normal job, have normal hobbies, but he also saw the way Heeseung’s girlfriend looked at the ice, with so much longing, it made his heart heavy.  The kitchen was cool, the scent of whatever you ate for dinner was still faint in the air. The sink held one plate and a fork, rinsed off neatly. His eyes went to the fridge without thinking. To today’s date.  A shiny monkey sticker was pressed next to it. Not one, but two. He smiled slightly. You must’ve had a good day. Sunghoon walked over and pressed the tip of his finger to the little monkey face. The sticker crinkled slightly under his touch. There was a note, too. Scrawled quickly, in your handwriting, on a Post-it note just under the sticker. "Spaghetti with mushrooms and carrots, and that protein powder. Bon appétit!" He huffed a quiet laugh, even as something tugged tight in his chest. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over the corner of the sticky note. Sunghoon heated the rest of the pasta you'd portioned out for him, plating it carefully despite the hour. He sat down at the kitchen table with it, elbows on the wood, bare feet tucked up under the chair. A part of him wanted to go peek into your room just to see you. But he didn’t. He sat in the kitchen eating his dinner, letting his heart slow, his breath even out, his shoulders finally drop.

────────────────────── You were in a good mood when you left the house. The sun had been out when you stepped onto the pavement. You’d remembered to bring your water bottle and the playlist you’d put on during the bus ride was perfect for the mood outside. Even your coffee hadn’t tasted like dirt. You slipped into your lecture seat and pulled out your sketchbook. You’d started your last assignment over, more organized this time, cleaner. It felt nice to look at your own work and not instantly hate it. And for once, you weren’t behind. Not truly. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Sunghoon: Y/N do you want new stickers?  Daiso has cute ones rn Im gonna bu them even if yo say no buy* you* sorry i was rushing a bit. 

You smiled. Today made it twelve days in a row. You’ve used almost all of the monkeys. And honestly? You were kind of proud of that. The stickers made it feel like you did something, even on the days you were just eating plain rice and steamed broccoli. You were up to almost 1000 kcal a day now, pushing toward 1100 kcal. Taeyong had sent you new stickers in the mail, cats, and you’d shown them to Sunghoon like they were the best thing he had ever seen. He looked so happy. His face had lit up in this quiet, surprised way. You weren’t even sure if he knew how tired he looked lately. He’d been home late almost every night this week, his shoulders tense and a frown was living permanently between his brows. But when you pulled out the little cat sheet and told him you wanted to try eating just a bit more each day, he smiled so wide.  That thought carried you halfway through class. Until the professor flipped the slide and reminded everyone, “Final sketches are due on Tuesday. Don’t forget we moved the deadline up.” Tuesday? That was four days from now.  You stared at the slide for a second longer than necessary. Then you flipped back through your notes. You started the sketches. You had a clear idea, the concept was solid, and if you pulled a long night today and a longer one Saturday, you could do it. You didn’t have to work this weekend, and you’d already done your weekly session with Ten, which meant the next few days were yours. You could absolutely do this. Lately, things have been different.  You were different.  Bit by bit, like someone had found the dimmer switch on your brain and slowly started turning it back up. You hadn’t even realized how much the party had stuck with you. It wasn’t just the throwing up. It was the way your chest clenched when someone offered you food or drinks. The way you hated opening your inbox. The way you could cry over a spilled coffee, or absolutely nothing at all.

Ten had helped you with that.

You weren’t fixed after the first few sessions.  You were still tired. Still got this dull ache behind your eyes or your ribs some mornings. Still, sometimes whispered a quiet sorry to the mirror when your shirt hung too loose. But you were getting there. You were okay. And if you weren’t okay yet, you would be. You caught Renjun’s question a few beats late. “How’s your draft going?” You gave him a half-smile. “Good. I’m almost done.” Which wasn’t a lie. You would finish it. You knew you could. Because you’d done harder things already. You had done this in the first semester so often, this should be easy.

────────────────────── You were adjusting your grip on three oversized rolls of paper, trying not to let them knock into your knees, when you saw Sunghoon. Headphones on, walking with his shoulders slightly hunched. You brightened instinctively, smiling at him, but your smile dipped, just slightly, when he got close enough for you to see the set of his jaw. He looked… tired. And tense. Maybe even upset. You shifted your weight, hugging the paper tubes a little closer, and offered a quiet, “Hi.” His gaze flicked up. And like magic, it all softened. The furrow between his brows, the stiff set of his shoulders. He gave a small exhale, like just seeing you let out some of the tension. “Hey,” he said, low and tired, but warm. “What’s with all the… paper?” You let out a laugh. “I stayed in the studio after class. I’m doing a huge concept draft this weekend. Guess who’s pulling an all-nighter?” He eyed your supplies, then you. “Please don’t say you.” You bit your lip. “It’s due Tuesday, and I was kinda distracted during the break. But I think I can make it work. I have a plan.” He reached out and gently tugged one of the rolls from under your arm without a word. You didn’t stop him. Your fingers brushed his in the exchange, and your pulse jumped. The bus rolled up, brakes squealing slightly, and the two of you climbed on. You found a mostly empty seat toward the back and sank into it with a small sigh. The paper was bulky, and created a barrier between your legs and his. Still, your shoulders brushed. He didn’t move away. The ride started in silence. You were about to reach for your phone when Sunghoon spoke, voice quieter than usual. “I’m not skating well,” he said. You looked up, surprised at the sudden honesty. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know what happened. Two weeks ago, everything worked perfectly. I almost got a perfect score. And now it’s like my body forgot how to do everything. Every run-through ends with me on the ice. It’s… embarrassing.” You frowned, brows drawing together. “You think it was just luck that day?”

He gave a soft laugh, more bitter than amused. “Maybe. I don't know. I was really stressed in the weeks leading up to it. You know, with the party and everything. I was kinda busy worrying about you and didn't really worry about the nationals that much."

You didn’t answer right away. The bus rumbled around you. A neon sign from a passing corner shop spilled red light across the floor.

Your hands were resting in your lap. You stared at your fingers for a second.

You hadn’t hidden it. Not really. The skipped dinners, your barely touched plates. You knew you weren’t subtle.

You just didn’t know it had sat with him like that. 

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” He leaned his head back against the bus window, sighing. “You’re doing amazing. You've put those monkey stickers on the calendar every day for almost two weeks. Sometimes even two.”

You ducked your head, shy under the praise. “They’re cute. And I like making people proud.”

“You are,” he said softly. “I am.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just nodded.

“Two weeks ago,” you said quietly. “At the nationals. You were incredible. You had so much fun.”

Sunghoon turned to look at you then. His eyes were soft. Tired.

And maybe a little surprised.

“I don’t know how I did that,” he admitted. “And now I’m not sure I can do it again.”

You hesitated. Then, a little nervously:

“Do you… still worry? About me?”

There was no pause in his answer.

“Yeah.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to carry the strange warmth that bloomed under your skin. 

You wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Or maybe say thank you. Or maybe… both.

A few moments passed in silence before you felt his head tilt, his chin gently resting on the top of your head.

You froze for a heartbeat.

Then slowly, shyly, you let yourself lean into his side.

Just a little.

The bus bumped along, and the rolls of paper rolled slightly against your knees.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured. “Eventually.”

“You will,” you whispered back. “But you don’t have to be right away.”

His hand brushed against yours for a second.

And neither of you moved away.

────────────────────── Your keys clinked softly as you unlocked the apartment door. The hallway light flickered to life, casting a warm, golden hue across the wooden floor. You slipped off your shoes, turning to look at Sunghoon, who was still moving slower than usual, dropping his bag by the door with a sigh.

You hesitated.

“…Are you hungry?” you asked gently.

He looked up at you with that unreadable expression of his. Not annoyed. Just...thinking.

Then he tilted his head. “Did you eat enough for a monkey?”

You blinked, caught off guard and then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “No.”

He didn’t scold you, “Then… unspicy dakgalbi? From the place I always drag the guys to?”

Your eyes lit up immediately. “Oh? The one we ordered from a few weeks ago?”

He nodded. “They do extra cheese now.”

Your stomach actually rumbled a little at that.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both perched on either side of the low sofa table. You sat cross-legged at the low table, sketchbook to your right.

Sunghoon was on the other side of the table, sleeves pushed up, his hair still damp from his shower. He passed you the tongs wordlessly, letting you serve yourself first. The cheese pulled in stretchy, stringy lines between the chicken pieces.

You quietly divided things up. One bowl for you. One for him.

When you finished cleaning the living room, you placed a sticker onto the calendar and held it up toward him with a tiny smile. You’d already picked out the sticker for tonight, a little orange cat holding a rice ball. 

“Tada!”

He squinted at the calendar and took a step closer, “The cat is cute. I am proud of you, Y/N. Look, even your little kitty is proud of you for eating so well.”

You laughed, cheeks a little warm.

The two of you returned to the living room. You had your legs tucked underneath you on the floor, one of the giant papers resting across the coffee table. The living room was dim except for the glow of the TV. The new drama you both half-followed played in the background. You had your pencil in one hand, your sleeve bunched in the other as you leaned over the page.

You didn’t even realize how quiet it had gotten until you looked up and found Sunghoon stretched out on the couch. One arm tucked under his head, hoodie soft and rumpled. His other hand rested over his stomach, rising and falling with each breath.

He wasn’t watching the drama. He was watching you.

You immediately felt the heat rise in your face.

“What?” you asked, trying not to smile.

He looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He didn’t argue.

You shook your head and looked back at your sketch. But your heart was still doing something weird. Something soft and fast at the same time.

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.

You weren’t sure when Sunghoon stopped watching the drama and started watching you again but you noticed when his eyes started slipping shut, his head slowly lolling to the side against the arm of the couch.

He insisted on keeping you company while you worked. 

Which, apparently, meant curling up on the couch behind you, one arm flung over a pillow like a makeshift hug, and promptly dozing off halfway through episode two.

Your pencil slipped from your hand somewhere around 3:30 a.m..Your first sketch was about 3/4 done, but your eyes were getting too heavy to shade anything right now. You stretched your legs out slowly, bones creaking, spine stiff from being hunched over the coffee table for hours and looked over your shoulder.

Sunghoon was still out cold. His hoodie had ridden up just slightly, revealing a sliver of his lower back. His mouth was parted in the tiniest way. 

You tried not to laugh as you reached over and touched his shoulder gently.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered.

He groaned.

“Sunghoon,” you said again, a little softer.

His eyes cracked open, all bleary and confused. “Huh.”

“You fell asleep.”

He made a tiny noise of protest and flopped further into the couch. “You’re loud.”

You laughed. “C’mon. Go to bed.”

He mumbled something unintelligible, then blinked blearily at you. “You wanna sleep in my room tonight?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said… before.” He rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand. “That you sleep better when someone’s there.”

You stared at him for a second. Something in your chest tugged, a quiet, strange warmth.

“I did say that,” you murmured. “Do you?”

He stilled. For a breath. Then said quietly, “Yeah.”

You nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The apartment was cold outside the blanket nest you’d built on the couch and on the floor, but his room was warm, dim with only the soft glow of his lamp in the corner. You slipped into his bed first, still in your hoodie and sweats, pulling the covers up as he turned off the hallway light and climbed in beside you.

You didn’t even think about where to lie. You just curled toward the same place you always seemed to find: his side, just beneath his collarbone, right over his heartbeat.

His arm came around you automatically.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then he whispered into your hair, voice rough with sleep, “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

You let out a breath. “Me too.”

Another beat.

“…Also. I’m never letting you work until 3:30 again.”

You smiled into his hoodie. “I don’t really think that’s possible.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer, already asleep again. 

His breath, steady and warm, brushed over the crown of your head every few seconds in a lazy rise and fall.

After a few minutes you noticed a sound. 

Soft. Rhythmic. Not loud, but steady enough to be unmistakable.

Sunghoon was snoring.

Just lightly.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dare to.

And then – there it was again.

The faintest little snore. You stifled a smile into his hoodie.

You shifted a tiny bit, just enough to glance up at him.

His mouth was parted slightly, lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. He looked so different asleep. Softer. Younger, somehow.

You reached up slowly, brushed his hair off his forehead. He didn’t stir.

And then, quietly, you whispered, “Thank you.”

For the food. For the stickers. For staying up with you. For holding you like this.

The snore came again. You almost laughed.

────────────────────── At around 15 o’clock, they called his name for warm-ups, and he felt like walking toward a storm he couldn’t stop. He spent almost 5 hours in the rink at this point, watching other people skate and perform on a level that was Olympic.

Sunghoon knew.

The moment his skates hit the ice, he knew.

This wasn’t going to work.

His legs were already too tight. His lungs didn’t feel like they had room.

He ran through the motions anyway.

Went through the warm-up. 

But with every movement, he felt it tightening. His chest, his hands, the panic he’d been choking down for days.

When they called him out for his actual performance, he wasn’t even nervous anymore. Just…numb.

The music started. He pushed off.

And he fell.

Not dramatically. Just a slip, a wrong edge on a spin he could do blindfolded most days. His shoulder kissed the ice, and the sting of it went all the way to his ribs.

He got up.

He always got up.

But the rest of the routine blurred. He didn’t even know what he was doing by the end, only that he’d finished.

Bowed.

Skated off.

Not once did he look toward the seats.

Not once did he meet the eyes of his coach or the team watching from the tunnel.

He ripped off his gloves the moment the door to the rink closed behind him. Tugged at the zipper of his costume like it was suffocating him. Stormed past the lockers, past the benches, up into the viewer area.

You were sitting on a seat near the middle of the bleachers, your laptop balanced on your thighs, fingers curled gently around the stylus as you focused on the screen. Your hair was braided now.

Something about it made his throat go tight.

And then you looked up.

You didn’t ask if he was okay. You didn’t say anything right away. You just stood up and stepped in his direction.

Sunghoon didn’t even stop to think. His arms wrapped around you before any thought even formed. Tight and desperate.

He felt the first sting of tears when your hand touched the back of his neck. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair.

“I messed up,” he choked out. His throat felt like it was closing. “I knew I would. The second I stepped out. I just—”

“You looked beautiful,” you whispered, voice soft by his ear. “I’m proud of you for trying.”

His chest lurched.

“For going out there. Even if you knew.”

That broke a little sob out of him, and he buried his face in your hair.

You didn’t say ‘You never know what the judges think’ or ‘You weren’t that bad’.

You just held him.

“Thanks,” he whispered, lips brushing your hairline.

He stood there with you for a while, forehead resting against your shoulder, your hand moving slowly over the back of his costume–up, then down, and up again. 

Eventually, he stepped back. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

“Do you wanna leave?” you asked gently.

He nodded, jaw clenched. His mouth was too dry to speak.

You packed up without another word, slipping your laptop into your tote and looping your jacket over your arm. You didn’t ask if he wanted to drive. You just walked beside him back to the car, shoulders almost brushing, quiet like you understood there wasn’t anything to say.

The drive started in silence.

He didn’t turn on the radio.

You didn’t try to fill the space.

But a little ways down the highway, you cracked the window open and let the breeze in. And then you kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the seat, twisting to face him slightly.

“Do you want a candy? I still have to eat some to earn a kitty. I have watermelon, apple, that weird Chinese one with the rabbit from Renjun or strawberry?” you asked.

He glanced at you, brows tugged together.

You were holding out a box filled with different-sized and colored candies.

He blinked. “Weird Chinese rabbit ones? That’s… weirdly specific.”

You gave him a small shrug. “It’s sweet. I figured you might need something nice.”

He took a piece.

It helped a little. Especially when he saw that you ate three pieces. 

After a while, you shifted again.

Your voice was quieter now. “I wish I could do something. I know I can’t fix it, but…”

“You being there helped,” he said, staring at the road ahead. “A lot.”

You were quiet for a beat.

“You know, if you don’t want to be alone tonight… you could crash in my room.”

He turned his head slightly, trying to read your expression. You looked a little shy, like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping.

“It’s just… it feels better with someone there,” you added. “You said that too, right?”

His chest tightened, but not in a bad way this time.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

You nodded. Then leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes.

He didn’t know if you were actually sleeping, but he let you rest anyway. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t say anything else.

────────────────────── Sunghoon heard the faint clatter of a pan as he stepped out of the shower, towel still clutched around his hair. He padded down the hallway barefoot, his limbs heavy from the day, and found you in the kitchen, barefoot too, stirring something in a pan.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard him. “I’m making egg rice,” you said, voice still soft. “There were leftovers. And I put in a ridiculous amount of oil, I am sorry.”

He nodded, throat tight again. “Smells good.” You plated up the food and passed him a bowl. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until the first bite. The table was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Your foot bumped his once, then again, and instead of pulling back, you let it rest lightly against his.  Afterward, he watched you shuffle to the fridge, humming faintly as you peeled the backing off another little sticker. This one was a cat with a sleepy face. You smoothed it onto the day’s square on your meal calendar and painted a pair of ice skates next to it. Sometimes, if something special happened, you drew a small doodle next to the date. He didn’t feel like today deserved a doodle.  Sunghoon swallowed.  You smiled faintly to yourself, then turned toward him. “I’ll brush my teeth first.”

By the time he joined you in your room, the lights were low and the sheets were already pulled back. You scooted over without a word, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

He laid down beside you, on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow.

For a while, you didn’t talk.

Then he spoke, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do now.”

You shifted slightly, not away but towards him.

He stared at the ceiling. “The Olympics... that was always the goal. Since I was a kid. Everything’s been about that. Every second I didn’t spend skating, I spent thinking about skating. And now…” His voice faltered. “Now I’m just—I don’t know who I am if I’m not trying to get there.”

He felt you look at him before you said anything.

“You know,” you said, soft and slow, “you’re still young. There are so many other things to achieve. This isn’t the end.”

He let the words settle between you, watching shadows play across the ceiling.

“There’ll be another Olympics,” you continued, “another try. And even if not… there’s always something else, right? Something new. I think–I think that’s the part no one tells you when you’re a kid. How your dreams can change.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. They always made it sound like it’s one dream, one shot. Do or die.”

“But it’s not,” you whispered. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He turned his head to look at you, even though the room was too dark to see your face clearly. “What did you want to be? When you were a kid?”

You were quiet for a second, like the question caught you off guard. Then you chuckled softly. “Van Gogh. I used to think I’d become the next Van Gogh and travel the world to paint.”

He smiled. “That’s adorable. But I think Picasso would be more fitting for you, Y/Ncasso.”

“Shut up.” You nudged his foot under the blanket. “What about you? Always skating?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I was like five. I saw Yuzuru Hanyu win gold and thought he was magic. I wanted to be that.”

You shifted closer slightly, and he felt your breath against his neck.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be magic,” you said. “Just… enough.”

Something about the way you said it tugged at him. He turned his body toward you now, propping his head up just a bit on his arm.

“You are,” he said.

You went quiet again. 

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked, voice soft, unsure if you wanted to keep on talking.

You were quiet for another beat, then you hummed. “Sometimes. Not often. It feels kind of… scary.”

He nodded slowly, even though you couldn’t see it.

“I always imagined mine very clearly,” he said. “Even when I was a kid. I’d make it big in skating, maybe get to coach later. Have a place near a the olympia park. A dog, or two. A supportive wife, who loves me. Whom i love back. And maybe… a daughter. I don’t know why, but I always pictured a daughter.”

He let out a small laugh, a little embarrassed by how much he was sharing. “Someone tiny who’d sit on my shoulders and call me her favorite person.”

Your silence stretched for a little too long. He turned his head.

When you did speak, your voice was quiet. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever have that.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened.

“Why?” he asked gently.

“I just… don’t think that’s in the cards for me. A family. Love like that.”

He wanted to say something immediately, but he waited. Let you say what you needed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you continued, not quite looking at him. “Not because I don’t want love,” you added quickly. “I do. I just… I think I’ll disappoint him."

His fingers curled slightly in the sheets.

“Sometimes I wonder,” you whispered, “if I’m just not enough.”

The words knocked the air out of him.

He sat up a little, his voice low but fierce. “Don’t say that.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“You are,” he said. “You’re more than enough.”

You looked away, eyes shining faintly in the darkness.

“I don’t want to be someone’s burden. When I relapse. When I can’t eat again or when I start hating myself again. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with that.”

Sunghoon felt the breath catch in his throat. His fingers flexed slightly against the sheets.

“Don’t say that,” he said, gently but firmly. “You’re not a burden.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But I could be.”

“No,” he said again. “You could have bad days. Weeks. That’s not the same thing.”

You didn’t answer.

Sunghoon pushed up a little more, his face now just inches from yours, even in the dark.

“If someone really loves you… he’ll stay. He’ll help you when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.”

He reached for your hand without thinking. 

“I don’t want to ruin someone’s life,” you whispered.

“You won’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “You’ll be part of it. And the right person will be lucky to have you in it.”

You let out a shaky breath, squeezing his fingers just once.

“You say that so easily.”

“I say it because it’s true.”

You didn’t speak after that. You just shifted closer, close enough that your foreheads nearly touched, close enough that he could feel the way your fingers curled slightly toward his.

He stayed awake for a while after that, listening to your breathing. Thinking about love. About disappointment. About the way you looked at him today like he hadn’t failed.

────────────────────── You saw the light pour through the tall windows of the studio, casting soft, slanted shadows across your desk. Someone’s model fell with a quiet clatter in the background. 

You saw your hands working, but your thoughts were still with Sunghoon.

It has been a few days since the tryouts. Sunghoon and you had been sleeping either in your or in his bed. Just to comfort each other. 

The step up in calories was hard. The bigger portions made your stomach upset, no matter what you ate and he was feeling a bit down. He didn’t go to the rink, instead coming home or to the studio, when you stayed longer. He and Renjun were getting along really well. 

You had to think about the softness in his voice when he talked about the future – about his daughter, his dogs, his house. The way he had said  he wanted a wife who he could love and who loved him like it was a given he would find someone like that. Like someone could love him so honestly, and he’d love them back just as deeply. You really believed that he would find such a girl. He deserved to be loved. Deeply. 

You remembered the way his fingers had curled around yours under the blanket.

You’re more than enough.

You saw the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he meant it.

You thought about how he stayed, even when it got bad.

You thought about how he asked if you’d eaten.

How he quietly cooked two portions when you hadn’t. How he let you talk when you needed to, and sat beside you when you couldn’t find the words.

Wasn’t that… what love was supposed to look like?

You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you ever would.

But if you ever let someone love you–really love you–you hoped Sunghoon was right. That they’d stay. That they’d hold on through the bad days. That you wouldn’t just become some slow-motion heartbreak in someone else's story.

Because right now… it almost felt like he was already doing it. Loving you in all the ways you didn’t know how to ask for, that you didn’t know how to give back.

And that thought made it hard to breathe in the best, scariest kind of way.

Your professor’s voice cut through the air.

“I hate to do this,” he said, and you already knew it was going to be bad, “but due to scheduling conflicts, the deadline for your final submissions has been moved up.”

You blinked.

“To next week.”

A collective groan spread across the room.. Someone cursed.

You looked around. Every table was covered in half-finished foam models, scattered tools, and messy sketches, yours included. No one was ready. Not really.

Your heart dropped, just a little.

You saw your own model–barely halfway there. The pieces didn’t fit right yet. Some parts still needed refining, carving, painting.

It wasn’t impossible. Not quite. You could stay all weekend. Pull a few all-nighters. If you mapped it out just right, you might be able to pull it off. You would have to bring your stuff back to your apartment, take over the kitchen for a few days. 

Your stomach sank anyway.

Because now you’d be tired. Because now dinner would be rushed. Because now the quiet bubble of comfort you’d made with Sunghoon would pop, even if just for a while.

You exhaled through your nose and refocused your attention. Grabbed your pencil. Sketched out the next adjustment.

You could still do this.

Sunghoon was making curry tonight.

You’d get your stupid kitty sticker and then draw a sad smiley next to it. 

────────────────────── Sunghoon saw you before he even heard the door shut.

You came in looking like a zombie. Bags digging into your shoulders, a roll of foam sticking out under one arm, your jacket halfway falling off, and your model clutched precariously in your hand. 

The look on your face said enough. 

He column’t remember seeing you like this, ever. He has seen many different facial expressions on you but he has never seen this one. Your mouth was tight and there was a crease in between your eyes. 

He stepped away from the stove. “Hey- wait, I’ll help- ”

“It’s okay,” you said, breathless, dropping your things by the shoe rack and then pressing a hand to your forehead. “My deadline’s been moved up. Again. A week earlier.”

He blinked. “Oh, shit.”

“Yup.” You weren’t even angry about it. Just exhausted. You gave him a fleeting smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll be out in a sec, just need to… change into not jeans. Or something.”

Then you disappeared into your room.

Sunghoon finished setting the table. Curry, rice, the salad you liked lately. Two bowls. Two glasses of water. The usual. He waited a few minutes. Then a few more.

You didn’t come out.

He stood up and made his way to your door, the polaroid of you with your name under it mirroring the one of him on his door. He knocked, gently. “Y/N? Food’s ready.”

You opened the door a minute later with the same drawn expression, hair tied up in a messy knot. You slid into your chair across from him and mumbled a quiet “thanks.”

But you didn’t eat.

Sunghoon watched you poke at the rice. Push the curry around. You were quiet so he started talking and told you about how Jay and Heeseung were invited to a gala for the new recruits of their teams and how they were panicking today. You barely reacted and only chuckled.

When he stood to clear the dishes, you looked up.

“Oh,” you murmured. “I’m so sorry- would you mind cleaning? I swear I’ll do it next week, I just-” You gestured vaguely toward your room, then vanished again before he could even nod.

Sunghoon blinked. “Okay…?”

He collected the bowls. Yours was still full.

His eyes flicked to the calendar. 

No sticker. 

You didn’t get out the sheet with the kitten and glued one onto it.

That was the first night in over two weeks there wasn’t one.

You didn’t eat. Not really. 

You also didn’t stop to get a snack from the fridge either. Usually you would eat a yogurt with berries after dinner. Not immediately after but you did prepare it immediately after. 

He washed up slowly, trying not to overthink it. But failed to do so. A part of him told himself you were tired. That it was just one night. But another part reminded him of the way your voice sounded when you were trying not to worry him.

Just tired.

That’s what you always said when you didn’t feel like eating before.

Hours passed. He showered. Got the laundry and folded his clothes. Worked on one of his essays. Brushed his teeth. 

At 11:42 p.m., he knocked on your door again holding a bowl with yogurt and mangos, voice muffled slightly through the wood.

“Y/N? Do you want a joghurt?”

No answer for a second. Then, softly, “Not really. Thank you though.”

He opened the door anyway.

You were sitting cross-legged in front of your bed on the floor, the model in front. In your right hand was a cutter and the other hand was holding a ruler, but they weren’t moving. They were just floating a few centimeters over the styrofoam. 

He walked over without a word and sat next to you. Your shoulder brushed his and you relaxed a bit. Letting your hands rest in your lap and looking at the small bowl Sunghoon was holding.

Then your head rested on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you said eventually. But your voice cracked a little at the end. “Just tired.”

Sunghoon nodded. 

Then he leaned closer and spoke gently. “Let’s eat something, mhm?”

You didn’t answer.

So he pulled you up.

Your hand slid into his. He held it without needing to say anything else.

He sat you down at the table, went to the fridge, and reheated a bowl of curry and rice in the microwave. It was a smaller portion that you were supposed to eat, but he figured you probably couldn’t really eat much. So he made sure there was at least something in your stomach. When he set the bowl and spoon in front of you, you glanced at it with tired eyes, then picked up the spoon.

You didn’t say anything. Just started eating slowly.

When you were halfway through the bowl, he asked, just as softly as before:

“Do you think you earned a kitty today?”

You paused mid-bite. The spoon hovered for a moment before you set it down gently. You didn’t look at him. You just shook your head once, small and quiet.

His chest tightened. It hurt to see you like this. 

You weren’t crying but you looked so upset.

But you were eating. Slowly. And he could work with that.

He just nodded his head a little and sat with you while you finished your bowl. 

Afterward, you helped rinse the plate. Even dried it. And then you returned to your room after muttering a “Thank you Sunghoon.”

He just smiled and watched you retreat into your room. Only to follow you a few seconds later. By the time he reached your door you were already sitting on the floor again. Sunghoon walked over quietly and crouched down beside you. His eyes scanned the mess of paper, foam board, tape, notes scribbled in pencil. Then he looked at you. 

“I’ll help you,” he said.

He grabbed the extra cutting board from the shelf under your table and started slicing the leftover foam you hadn’t touched yet into 1,3 cm thick stripes, like you told him. Sometimes you asked him to hold down corners for you when they curled up. 

By the time the clock on his phone read 3:47 AM, your hands had slowed down significantly.

The model looked more like a fancy opera now. 

He glanced at you.

You were blinking slowly, mouth slightly parted in a yawn.

“You should sleep,” he said softly.

You didn’t argue this time. “I should.”

He stood, offering his hand. You took it. Wobbled a little on your feet.

“Let’s sleep in my bed,” he hummed.

You mumbled something like “okay” and shuffled into the bathroom.

Sunghoon turned off the lights, checked the stove, and brushed the foam dust from his sweatpants. 

When he reached his room he stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of you curled into his bed, on what has become your side. 

It looked like you’d been here for hours, even though it had only been minutes. The quietness in the room, the soft rhythm of your breath under the covers, made his chest feel tight again. Not from worry this time, but from something much warmer. 

He closed the door quietly behind him and tiptoed over to the bed. He didn’t want to wake you in case you fell asleep in the three minutes you were lying in his bed.

Sunghoon slowly climbed into the bed, sliding under the covers and shifting closer to you. 

Then, before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from your face. You barely stirred, but a tiny little sigh slipped from your lips, and he smiled to himself.

“You good?” he whispered, careful not to startle you.

You mumbled something incoherent but soft, and adjusted your head to put it onto his chest.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly, not knowing what to say next. So, he just snuggled into his pillow.

────────────────────── You blinked awake slowly, the dull gray light of morning filtering through the blinds in Sunghoons room. Usually sleeping in the same bed as Sunghoon meant that you were sweating in the morning, but today you were feeling a bit cold. Your hand reached across the bed where Sunghoon should have been instinctively.

His side of the bed was no longer warm. You hand brushed over the soft duvet cover. 

It was strange, wasn’t it?

Feeling that someone was missing after waking up alone was not a thing you usually did. 

You know people complain about it, when their lovers slip out of the bed too early, leaving them alone in their shared bed. 

But Sunghoon wasn’t your lover. 

So why did it feel like that?

You sat up slowly, brushing hair from your face, the blanket slipped down your shoulders. It wasn’t like he disappeared. He was probably brushing his teeth or something. You dragged yourself out of bed, bare feet padding lightly against the floor.

The moment you cracked open your door, you were engulfed in a sweet smell. And a slightly burned smell.

You frowned, blinking toward the hallway, and then made your way into the kitchen.

Sunghoon was standing in front of the stove. His hair was standing up in different directions, the bleach damaged it enough to not fall softly unless he used the right hair care products. 

He was holding up a spatula and his phone at the same time, frowning at something on his phone. 

You leaned against the doorframe to the connected kitchen and living room, eyes flickering over the kitchen.

Your model was laying on the kitchen table. All of the tools and scraps and papers that were spread around on the floor in your room had been organized neatly on the table. Your laptop was charging on the kitchen island. Your pens lined up in a little row.

“Good morning Sunghoon”, you greeted him, your voice still rough from disuse.

You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips when he turned around and you noticed the apron he had hanging around his front. He looked cute.

He turned around, startled, and blinked. “ Y/N. Morning.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you making pancakes?”

“They were supposed to be,” he said, flipping one that was definitely more black than brown. “You didn’t eat enough yesterday. So I’m bribing you.”

You walked forward, your feet freezing when you reached the tiled kitchen floor. “Bribing me with... questionable pancakes?”

“They’re not questionable,” he said. “They’re just... well-loved by the stove.”

You laughed softly and slipped into a chair at the table. The sight of your model, a little lopsided now that you weren’t looking at it in sleep-deprived haze, made your chest ache a bit again.

“Thank you Sunghoon.”, you said after a beat of silence. “For everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for everything you are doing.” 

He turned around, a soft smile adorning his lips. Your chest flustered a bit at the sight. “Always, Y/N. If you ever need help I’ll always be there to help. No matter if its slightly burned pancakes or your weird opera thing we are building together.”

Your eyes stung a bit and you had to break eye contact with him to not start crying.

He turned back around and cleared his voice slightly. “The others are coming over later. They want to help.” 

Your head lifted, a frown already forming between your brows. “Help? With the opera?”

He glanced over from the stove, eyebrows raised like he knew this reaction was coming. “Yeah.”

You blinked at him. “But… why? I didn’t–.”

Sunghoon flipped a pancake gently. “You don’t have to. They just want to do something. Jay, Jake, Heeseung… they all felt a little responsible. About the party. And everything after.”

You were quiet for a long moment. 

Somehow you felt touched. Really touched, in a way that made your throat tighten. And also a little ashamed.

How did you manage to be a burden to someone you barely knew. Why would they worry about you? Yes they invited you, but it wasn’t their fault it escalated like that. So why were they feeling bad about it. 

“I didn’t mean to make anyone worry,” you said softly.

Sunghoon turned again, his hands still holding the spatula. “I know you didn’t. But it’s okay if people care about you anyway.”

You looked away quickly, chest tight. “That doesn’t mean they should have to fix anything. Or help. I was just… not okay for a while. It’s not their problem.”

“They’re not trying to fix anything,” he said gently. “They just want to help now. In any way they can. If that means spending the afternoon cutting foam and toothpicks, that’s what they’ll do. Also—” he turned back to the stove with a quiet laugh, “—they think you’re cute.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

He hummed. “I quote: Sunghoon your roommate is so cute, I swear i want to put her in my pocket. Quote end.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, even if your face was burning. “Oh my god, who said that?”

Sunghoon just grinned and plated the last pancake. “Jake. He said you were so cute when we went to the nationals. You felt so bad for everyone that just looked minimalistically sad after getting off the ice. He wanted to pet your head.”

“Oh my god.”, you buried your face in your hands.

He placed the plate between you both on the kitchen counter, grabbing the Nutella with one hand and a butter knife with the other. “Sorry they’re not perfect,” he murmured. “Kind of questionable in terms of color.”

You stood up and walked over to the counter, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re not questionable. They’re just… well-loved by the stove.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, low and warm. He drizzled more Nutella on top, spreading it with way more care than necessary. “Alright. Chocolate makes everything better. Maybe we won’t taste the love too much with the Nutella on top.”

You picked up your fork, the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder. The pancakes were a little uneven, a bit too crisp at the edges.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything when you slowed down halfway through. He just offered you another bite every now and then, and when you accepted, he smiled without a word.

“I really mean it,” you whispered after a while, when the plate was nearly empty. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression soft and unreadable. Then he said, quietly, “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me stay. Let me help.”

Your eyes stung again. You glanced toward your model on the table and back to your plate. 

You didn’t know why he did all of this for you. You didn’t think you deserved it.

But it made your chest ache in the kindest way.

────────────────────── You and Sunghoon sat shoulder to shoulder at the table half an hour later. He passed you a glue stick without needing to be asked, and you handed him the little foam piece he’d marked earlier.

You were listening to a podcast, the only sound in the kitchen being the hosts voices and sounds of paper being cut. There were flecks of foam on his sleeve and your hair. Your knees bumped under the table more than once. 

You were just finishing the reinforcements on the roof when Sunghoon finished assembling the first tiny tree for your landscaping section. He looked more proud of it than he had of his last competition medal at the nationals.

“That’s actually so cute,” you murmured, leaning over to inspect it.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I'm naming it Gerald.”

You snorted. “Gerald looks very sturdy.”

Just as you repositioned the front wall, the doorbell rang.

You straightened, wiping your fingers on your pajama pants and giving Sunghoon a quick glance.

“That’s them,” he said, already heading to the door.

A moment later, you heard the greet Sunghoon and Jake walked into the kitchen holding up a tray of drinks from the cafe on the campus and a bag of baked goods. “Y/N! Good morning! We bought coffee and tea and those weird cookie croissants! ”

You stood a little awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what to say. 

“Hi,” you said quietly, wringing your hands together. “Um… thank you for coming and the food. You really didn’t have to. I… I’m really sorry if—”

Jay cut you off with a wave of his hand, already moving toward the table where your model was set up. “Don’t apologize. We are here because we want to be..”

“Yeah,” Heeseung added, grinning as he peeked at the foam trees Sunghoon had started earlier. “This is fun. It’s like arts and crafts.”

Jay slung his hoodie over a chair and raised an eyebrow at you. “So. Where do we start?”

You stared at them for a second, something soft and confused blooming in your chest.

Sunghoon brushed past you, placing a gentle hand on your back as he nudged you back to your chair in front of the model. “We’ll show you. I can make banger trees but I need like 20 more and someone has to help me do that.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”, Jake said and dropped into the chair next to you.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and nodded, pulling out the extra materials you’d prepared earlier. “Okay. Um—Jay, can you help with the glueing? It’s a bit tricky, you have to hold the pieces for a few seconds until they set. You spray this stuff on, to like kinda immediately harden the glue. Someone has to cut the foil? I don’t know if i want to use it yet tho, we will have to try around a bit and-”

They listened to your explanations with surprising focus. Sunghoon switched the background noise from your true crime podcast you'd both barely been listening to, to a soft, upbeat playlist.

They started talking about something trivial but after a few minutes someone started complaining about the last match they played and they have been explaining the rules of ice hockey to you for the last fifteen minutes. 

“So basically you can crash into someone just because you feel like it and it’s okay?”, you asked, handing Sunghoon another strip of foam to hold up. 

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Sometimes. You should have seen Soobin. He was our captain until he graduated last semester and one of the best defense players we ever had.”

“Oh. That’s crazy.”, you said, nodding at the way the edge you and Sunghoon had just glued together. 

“Yeah. Crazy if you want to have a fifty-fifty chance to get a concussion each time you go onto the ice.”, Sunghoon huffed. 

“Sunghoon, I’m just saying,” Jake was saying as he carefully pressed together two model walls, “if you ever joined a hockey game, you’d cry the second someone shoved you.”

“I’ve literally skated through a concussion before,” Sunghoon replied, unfazed. “Try doing triple jumps with whiplash.”

“Triple jumps,” Jay snorted. “That’s just jumping in the same spot but fancier.”

You looked up from the hot glue gun. “I do think figure skating is harder? I mean if all you do is try not to die because someone slams you into a wall?”

Sunghoon smirked quietly. 

Jake gasped like you’d betrayed them. “Y/N! We do more than a figure skater. I might not be able to touch my toes but I must let you know that we have to strategize and you know work as a team and react as a team. Quickly.” 

“I still think ice skating is more impressive. It looks very elegant.”, you hummed.

Jay chuckled. “I think we look very graceful in our uniforms. At least we don’t have to wear glitter while skating, right Elsa.”

“Fuck off Jay,” Sunghoon muttered.

“I’m ruggedly graceful and elegant,” Jake said.

You giggled, caught between amusement and slight awe. “So… do you guys always argue about which is better?”

“Absolutely,” Heeseung said, handing you a fresh strip of cut foam. 

“It’s not a competition,” Sunghoon said under his breath. “Not one they’d win anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Jay sighed.

Heeseung looked at you. “You could come to a match if you wanted to.”

You raised a brow. “And then what? Watch you get pushed around and then decide if I enjoy ice hockey or ice skating more?”

They all looked at each other like that was exactly the idea.

“If Sunghoon goes to the next one, I'll come along,” you said, quieter now.

You felt Sunghoon glance over at you, his fingers stilling for a second on the model.

“I really don't want to go alone,” you added, more softly this time.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. But when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, eyes gentle, mouth tipped upward just enough to make your heart flutter.

“Okay,” he said, that same warmth in his voice he always got when talking just to you. “I’ll take you.”

────────────────────── An hour later Jay was standing in the kitchen chopping onions. He decided to cook steak and potatoes for the four of you, apparently craving it enough to spend half a fortune on meat. After a while the kitchen started to smell intensely like food. 

It didn’t smell bad,  but somehow your stomach was tightening up a bit at the smell. 

You glanced at the stove. 

“Jay?” you called gently.

He looked over immediately, knife still in hand.

“I think my stomach’s gonna hate me if I eat that much red meat,” you admitted, a little unsure. “I haven’t really had a lot of it lately.”

He blinked once, then shrugged. “Alright. Yours’ll be dry, no blood, as unred as possible. Would you like more potatoes instead?”

You stared at him for a second. “...Yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

“Gotchu,” he said simply, already turning back to the pan.

You sat back, feeling weirdly relieved. Just… okay, more potatoes it is.

Heeseung had taken over tree production by now and was giving each one increasingly ridiculous names, while Jake and Sunghoon were helping you with the decorative beams along the walls of the building. 

──────────────────────

When the other three left your apartment late in the afternoon your model was almost done. It was almost perfect and you had just a few things on your to do list to finish up. Which meant you could dedicate Sunday and Monday to drawing and working out the details. And get a healthy amount of sleep.  

The door clicked shut behind Heeseung, and the sudden quiet that followed felt strange. 

Sunghoon stretched and groaned when his back made a rather satisfying cracking 

You heard him plop down onto the sofa and turned around to a rather funny view. 

He had let himself drop over the backrest, one of his long legs was hooked over the backrest, along with one of his arms. The other arm was resting over his eyes and he groaned again: “Y/N I don’t get how you do this. My fingers hurt and my back feels like I sat for 80 years instead of 8 hours.” 

You laughed slightly. “I try to not work 8 hours in a row unusually but desperate situations demand drastic measures.” 

You hesitated for a second but stepped in front of the sofa. “I think I'm going to make a snack or something. You can nap and I’ll wake you when it’s done if you’d like?” Sunghoon just hummed and nodded.

So you padded slowly and quietly into the kitchen, rolling your shoulders out with a satisfying crack of your own before pulling open the fridge. There were still a few cherry tomatoes left, a cucumber, some bell pepper slices in a container from the day before, and the rest of the cream cheese dip Sunghoon liked. That would do.

You arranged it all with more care than you meant to, piling the sliced vegetables and a bit of fruit on a small plate and spooning a generous portion of the dip into a small bowl. When you were done, you stood in front of the calendar hanging on the fridge and carefully peeled one of the glossy cat stickers from the sheet. It was a grey tabby this time, curled up asleep. You pressed it down next to the date with a quiet smile.

You’d eaten today.

You’d eaten well today.

The steak had gone down with barely a protest from your stomach and stayed down. You weren’t quite sure how that had happened, but it had.

So you deserved your little cat sticker.

Sunghoon was still in the same ridiculous position when you came back. His mouth slightly open and he was snoring slightly. Completely wiped out from cutting and glueing some cardboard.

You didn’t want to wake him. So you set the plate carefully on the table in front of the sofa and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the bottom cushion. Your phone buzzed with a message from Johnny asking you how you were doing. You send him a selfie of you holding up a piece of bell pepper and sunghoons sleeping from behind you, telling him you had steak today. He replied with a selfie of Dukoo laying on his chest and Taeyong sleeping on his shoulder, his mouth wide open. You snickered quietly.

After a while you were bored by your phone, so you got up to get the book you were currently reading and your headphones from your room.

You were halfway through a chapter when fingers brushed through your hair. So light, so gentle, you almost thought you imagined it.

But then it happened again.

You turned your head slightly and looked up.

Sunghoon’s eyes had blinked open, still a little hazy with sleep. His hand was still resting lightly on the back of your head, tangled just barely in your hair, and when your eyes met, he didn’t pull it away.

He just gave you a tiny, sleepy smile and petted your hair again. 

A strand had come loose from your braid and he twirled it between his fingers.

You swallowed slowly, heart thudding louder than you liked. “You’re awake,” you said, barely a whisper.

He hummed, low in his chest, and his hand slipped a little lower, brushing behind your ear. “I felt you leave,” he murmured.

You didn’t move, fearing that he would stop playing with your hair if you did. 

“Did you eat?” he asked softly, finally glancing at the plate in front of you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just-just vegetables and fruit.”

His eyes flicked back to you. “Enough so you could put a kitty on the calendar?”

You nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah.”

He sat up a bit more, leaning forward slightly so his knees nudged your back. His voice was even softer now. “I’m so proud of you.”

You turned toward him at that, just enough to see him clearly. He looked so warm, hoodie slightly bunched at the collar, hair tousled from sleep. 

You swallowed and whispered a quiet “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes again so you went back to reading.

You didn’t hear him sit up behind you.

But you felt it when the warmth of his body shifted closer. The sofa cushion gave in under his weight as he slid down to sit beside you on the floor.

Your breath caught, just for a second, when your shoulder touched his.

He reached for the remote and a second later, the TV lit up the room in a soft blue glow. He switched channels to find KBS.

You glanced up. Sunghoon was lazily chewing a piece of carrot, reaching for another from the small plate you’d left on the table. Without looking at you, he nudged it a little closer to your side, silently offering.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips.

Sunghoon leaned back, propping one arm up behind him on the couch. And after a moment of hesitation you let yourself lean too. Your head found his shoulder, slow and soft, the way it always did now. His hoodie was warm, soft beneath your cheek, and smelled faintly like his perfume.

He didn’t move.

The low sound of the show played on. A laugh track. A bit of dialogue. But neither of you laughed. Neither of you spoke.

You felt him breathe.

You listened to the rhythm of it, right beneath your cheek.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

He shifted slightly, just barley. His head moved a bit and his temple brushed against your hair, his breath ghosting across your skin. You tilted your head instinctively, and suddenly you were looking at him.

He was already looking at you.

Your breath stuttered.

You froze.

You looked at his mouth before you could stop yourself.

Then back to his eyes.

And again.

Your chest pulled tight.

His lips were parted slightly.

He didn’t look away when your gaze wandered back to his eyes.

You couldn’t stop the flicker of panic that swelled in your chest.

You turned your head slightly, just slightly, without really thinking about it. Your nose grazed his cheek.

And then he turned his head too. Slowly. Gently. His temple brushing yours as he moved.

Your foreheads touched.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

You closed your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Trying to slow the pounding of your heart.

His fingers grazed your knee, just barely. You wanted to say something, to move, to...kiss him.

But your whole body locked up with nerves and want and a fear you couldn’t name.

So you didn’t.

You sat there.

Still.

Almost.

And then, after one long heartbeat, he leaned back the tiniest bit. Just enough for the space between you to widen again.

You opened your eyes.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

──────────────────────

After the episode ended Sunghoon stood up, slow and silent, his fingers brushing the blanket beside you. You stayed still, heart still racing in your chest. 

“Should we...” he didn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what he meant. You nodded, your body slow to follow.

The quiet buzz of the TV filled the space between you as you both moved, soft-footed and wordless. He picked up the now-empty plate from the table. You turned off the lamp.

In the bathroom, you stood shoulder to shoulder while brushing your teeth. His elbow bumped yours lightly once, and you bumped him back, the corner of your lips curling around the toothbrush. You caught his eye in the mirror. He was winking at you.

His white hair almost reflected the harsh bathroom light, as it  softly fell over his eyes. The whole scene felt so domestic your heart was aching. 

You finished first. You washed your face and used the ridiculous amount of skin care products Sunoo insisted made your skin better. He gave you a lot of the stuff that didn't work for him and you were just accepting the free skincare.  

You lingered in the hallway for a second too long after brushing your teeth. The light behind you still hummed softly from the bathroom, casting your shadow long and thin across the floor. You expected Sunghoon to disappear into his room with a soft goodnight.

But he didn’t.

He paused in his doorway, hand resting lightly on the frame. Then he looked at you,not directly. His tired eyes flicked toward you. And then, with barely a movement, he tilted his head. A silent question without words.

You didn’t answer with words either.

You just followed.

Your steps were quiet as you crossed the space, the air between you charged in that gentle, quiet way. You slipped into his room, your hoodie sleeves tugged down over your hands. He let the door close behind you.

The room smelled distinctly like him.

He crawled into his bed, pulling the blanket back slowly as if giving you a moment to change your mind. But you didn’t. You slid in beside him, your shoulder brushing his briefly before you turned onto your side, facing the wall. 

You couldn’t handle sleeping on his chest today. Somehow the thought alone made your heart race. 

It shouldn’t. 

This was so wrong. 

Sunghoon was your roommate. 

During the episode of running man you had enough time to conclude that the racing of your heart and the desire to make him, especially him, proud was based on a crush. A very inappropriate crush on your very nice and hot and caring and sweet and attractive roommate.

A few seconds later, you felt the mattress shift behind you. He carefully adjusted behind you. Not touching you, but being close enough you felt the heat of his body though your hoodie.  

A quiet part of you ached just a little when he didn’t wrap himself around you, like he sometimes did on the sofa.

──────────────────────

You lay there for what felt like hours, eyes open in the quiet dark, watching the way the dim hallway light pooled faintly across the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Your thoughts were running wild and you didn’t know what to do.

So you rolled over.

Carefully. Slowly.

You didn’t even fully realize what you were doing until you were halfway into the movement, your hand lightly brushing the comforter between you.

He didn’t move.

So you went further, tucking your head gently onto his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t wake up.

Still nothing.

Just the quiet sound of his breathing. And then, after a beat–his arm moved.

Not abruptly. But his hand came up in a slow, sleepy motion and started tracing a soft pattern against your back.

Your chest felt too tight for this much softness.

"Were you asleep?" you whispered.

He made a small noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. "I was," he murmured. "But this is better."

You stayed quiet, listening to the rhythm of his breath and the way his fingers still traced your back, up and down, in lazy, tender lines.

After a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’m so glad I moved.”

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you're here too,” you whispered. “But…”

You paused, already regretting saying anything. But you couldn’t stop. 

“But it must be kind of awful, right? Having to take care of me like this? We didn’t even know each other. I probably made everything way harder.”

His fingers stilled just for a second.

Then he exhaled, hand moving again. Slowly this time, his palm almost resting between your shoulder blades.

“Y/N,” he said, like he was saying your name to soothe you. “It’s not like that.”

You didn’t reply. 

You weren’t sure you could.

“I know it feels like you’re a burden sometimes,” he went on gently, “but I promise you-you're not. Not to me.”

You stared at the vague outline of his neck, blinking quickly. “I just… I don’t want to be someone people have to carry. I want to be someone people want around.”

He was quiet for a beat. You thought maybe he didn’t know how to respond.

But then his hand stopped moving entirely and slid around your back, anchoring you closer, just a little. Not too much. Just enough that your forehead nearly brushed his collarbone.

“I don’t feel like I’m carrying you,” he said. 

Your heart thudded so loudly you were sure he could feel it.

“I like being here,” he said. “I like helping with the model, and grocery shopping, and seeing you put stickers on the calendar. I like listening when you rant about your professor or whisper that you're tired. I like it when you fall asleep on the sofa next to me.”

His voice was steadier now, but still low. 

“I like it,” he said, “because it’s you.”

You blinked hard.

Your throat burned.

“But I haven’t even done anything for you,” you murmured. “Not really.”

He made a soft sound at that. “You really think that?”

You nodded a little. His shirt brushed your cheek. “I feel like I’m just… needing all the time. And you just give.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’ve done more for me than you know.”

Your brows pulled together before you could stop them. “Like what?”

There was a pause. Not silence, not really, but a moment held so carefully you didn’t dare breathe.

“You made this place feel like home,” he said finally. “You make me laugh when I’ve had a bad day. You believe in me when I don’t believe in myself.”

The lump in your throat nearly doubled in size.

You couldn’t speak.

So you just… leaned in.

Laid your forehead against his chest, eyes burning, heart twisting.

He didn’t say anything after that. Neither did you.

But his arms pulled you in slowly. Gently.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, folded into the warmth of him, listening to his heartbeat and the way his breathing slowed. You could feel his hand resting lightly against your back, not moving anymore. Just there. Steady.

You should’ve tried to sleep. You should’ve just closed your eyes.

But instead, you felt your mouth part. 

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, barely audible.

His chest shifted with a breath. “Yeah?”

Your hand curled against the fabric of his shirt. “Can…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t looking at him. You couldn’t.

He was silent. Even his breathing had stopped. 

You instantly regretted asking.

You’d never kissed anyone. You didn't know how to do so. Asking was the most logical thing to your head. 

You could feel your whole body tense. “I’m sorry, I just—forget it, I don’t—”

He let out the softest sound. A breath that sounded like laughter, barely there, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just asked–but not in a mocking way. In a stunned, almost reverent kind of way.

Then he shifted.

You felt his hand move. He brushed your hair back, careful and slow. His fingers tucked the strands behind your ear, and his palm settled gently against your cheek.

When you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

Eyes soft. 

Warm. 

The corners crinkled in that way they always did when he smiled without really smiling.

His thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your breath caught.

For a second, you forgot how to move.

And then, slowly and carefully, you leaned in.

You weren’t sure where to put your hands. Or how close you should get. Your heart felt like it might combust from the pressure alone. You tilted your head, eyes flicking to his lips and back to his eyes, over and over, waiting for some final confirmation.

And then, your lips touched.

It was soft.

Softer than you ever imagined it could be.

There were no fireworks in your chest. You didn’t feel any butterflies. Just warmth. Gentle warmth. The steady beat of your heart slowing for the first time all week. 

His lips moved slowly against yours, careful. Guiding, but not pushing. Letting you take the lead, letting you pull away whenever.

When you finally did, it was only by a few centimeters, and you stayed there. Your foreheads almost touching, your hand still pressed to his chest, his softly caressing your face.

Your cheeks were glowing. Your lips tingled. You couldn’t look at him.

“I didn’t… know it would feel like that,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Like what?”

You blinked, breathing softly. “Good? Right?”

And when he smiled this time, you could hear it in his voice.

“Yeah,” he said, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Right.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. Breathing the same small pocket of air. His thumb brushed once over your cheekbone, then again, as if he couldn’t believe that you were here. That you had kissed him.

That you had wanted to.

And you had. Still did.

Your fingers flexed slightly in the fabric of his shirt. He shifted, just barely.

He pulled back only enough to look at you again.

Your face flushed under the weight of his gaze, but you didn’t turn away this time. You let him look. Let yourself be seen. Your chest ached in that strange, unfamiliar way—half-sweet, half-scary. The way it always does when something is too good and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to keep it.

But he just smiled.

So softly it made your breath catch.

And then, he leaned in again.

Slower this time.

His lips brushed yours so lightly.

You kissed him back.

His lips were soft and tasted like the mint toothpaste he used earlier.

When he pulled away this time, he stayed close.

His nose brushed yours. Your breath mingled. He whispered, barely audible, “I really like you.”

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t know what to say.

Your hand slid up, fingers resting over his heart. You felt it beating, fast and steady beneath your palm. 

You must’ve dozed off like that.

Curled into his chest, legs tangled gently under the covers, the heat of his skin lulling you deeper into calm with every slow breath.

When you stirred again, it was because he shifted a little, barely more than a sigh against your hair.

“Still awake?” His voice was quiet, hoarse with sleep.

You nodded against him. “Mmhm.”

He pulled you in a little closer, resting his chin carefully against the top of your head. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

Your smile was tiny. “You’re comfy.”

A pause. Then, “You drool.”

You shoved at his chest with a muffled groan, and he let out a quiet laugh that vibrated through you.

“I do not,” you whispered indignantly.

“You do,” he whispered back, grinning. “But it’s okay. I’ve decided I’ll allow it.”

You went quiet again, pressing your nose into his hoodie and breathing him in. You wanted to say something–to tell him how unreal this felt, how scared you still were, how good it felt too. But the words got stuck somewhere behind your ribs.

Instead, your fingers curled against his side, and you whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask what for.

He just held you tighter.

Somewhere between his warmth and the comfort of the quiet, you felt your chest ease. 

He kissed your forehead a moment later and you just…melted a little. 

You would let yourself have this. Just this one perfect thing. 

This time, you were the one to whisper first. Just barely audible:

“I like you too.”

His hand stilled where it had been gently tracing over your spine. And then, he whispered, just above your ear:

“I know.”

You smiled again. 

This time, when your eyes closed, you didn’t fight it.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon woke up first, the quiet morning light spilling softly through the curtains. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just lay there, completely still, taking in the sight of you. Your face was relaxed in peaceful sleep, your hair spread out over the pillow like a halo. He could feel your breath against his chest, slow and steady, and the weight of your body pressed against his side, warm and comforting.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

Sunghoon could hardly believe what had happened the night before. Everything felt like a dream. 

He had somehow been waiting for this moment without even knowing it. 

His head replayed the moment. How you had been so close. How you asked him to kiss you and, how carefully, how gently, you had let him kiss you. And then you kissed him back.

Your breath hitched lightly in your sleep, and for a split second, he thought you might wake up, but you only shifted, pressing your cheek further into his chest.

He smiled to himself, unable to stop the soft warmth blooming in his chest. 

He wanted nothing more than to hold you like this forever, to keep you safe, to keep you with him.

His fingers lightly brushed the back of your neck, tracing the soft line of your skin. 

He glanced down at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, listening to the peaceful rhythm of your breath. 

Sunghoon wanted to savor this, savor you, in the quiet morning light. He didn’t know what exactly this was yet, where it was going, but he also kinda didn’t care. 

He was just so glad that you were here. With him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek softly. You were so beautiful, even in the quiet stillness of the morning, so perfect that it almost didn’t feel real. He just wished you could see that too. 

He remembered the night you had laid across his chest on the sofa the first time, your body was so close. He remembered feeling the soft dip of your ribs through your shirt. It wasn’t so bad anymore. The meal plan was working better than he had thought it would.

Your ribs weren’t as sharp now. You were still tired and freezing but it was getting so much better. Even your migraines seemed to lessen.

He was so proud of you, of how far you had come, even though he knew that there was still a long way to go. He just hoped you would let him be part of that, you would let him help until you didn’t need help anymore. 

Sunghoon had to fight the urge to wake you up, to kiss you again. To pull you even closer. But he decided to let you rest for a few more minutes, knowing that your alarm would ring at 10 am, like it always did on the weekend.

For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to wake up like this every day. Next to you, your head on his chest, your body curled into his. Of being able to kiss you stupid if he wanted to. 

You shifted. Your face was still soft with sleep but your eyes fluttered open. 

“Good morning,” he murmured gently, brushing his fingers over your hair, pushing a strand away from your forehead. He really loved your hair. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked softly.

You barely cracked one eye open and a sleepy hum escaped your lips as you nodded slightly in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Mm, yes.”

His heart melted at the sight. He had seen you wake up only a handful of times. Usually if the two of you slept in one bed together you were the first one to wake up. 

You sounded so out of it. 

“Alright,” he said, trying not to smile too much. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, feeling the softness of your hair beneath his lips. “I’ll get breakfast started then.”

But just as he started to move, you whimpered, the soft, almost pained sound stopping him in his tracks. He froze, unsure of what to do for a second, his heart skipping a beat.

“Stay...” you murmured, your voice low and drowsy, your body still nestled against the warmth of his chest.

He smiled, shaking his head lightly. “You need to eat, Y/N. I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn’t want to be away from you, but he knew you needed to get up. You had to eat and probably start drawing whatever you still needed to draw for your assignment. 

You groaned in response, squinting your eyes closed again. But then, you slowly allowed him to shift away, the tiniest sigh escaping your lips. You looked at him for a moment, your gaze still clouded with sleep, before you gave him a lazy smile, still blinking away the sleep in your eyes.

“Okay…” you mumbled.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, sliding out of bed. As he moved towards the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance back over his shoulder at you, still lying there, all tangled in the blankets.

He couldn’t help but smile.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon felt your presence behind him before he saw you. He heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him and paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow, not expecting you to follow so quickly. 

Before he could react, you pressed your body gently into his back, your face nestling against his shoulder blade. He froze for a moment, feeling your warmth against him, and a quiet laugh bubbled up from deep within his chest. 

He knew you were kinda clingy, when you liked someone. He had seen how you liked to be close to Mark, how you sometimes followed Sunoo or Renjun like a lost duckling in the hallways of the university and has had the pleasure of you somehow clinging to him as well. Coming to the kitchen to work in silence while he was cooking, sitting down on the sofa to watch whatever he was watching, even if he knew you weren't interested, cuddling on the sofa or one of your beds when one of you felt down. 

But it wasn’t like you to be so forward.

When he turned around to face you, he was met with your eyes, they were wide and a little uncertain, and that small, shy smile you always wore when you were feeling bashful. It made his heart soften even more.

His hand instinctively reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing the softness of your skin.

"You okay?" His voice was low, a soft question, as he studied you, the tender expression on his face betraying his own racing thoughts.

“I... didn’t think it would feel like this,” you finally muttered, almost shyly, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his eyes again. “I mean... it’s... different than I thought it would be.”

Sunghoon smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. "It’s okay," he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

He saw the hesitation in your eyes before you carefully placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him, slightly clumsy in your movements but so endearing. "I just... want to know how," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

His heart skipped a beat, a quiet warmth spreading through him. Sunghoon couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of it light and full of affection. “You’re doing just fine,” he reassured you, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss.

This time, when your lips met his, it was softer, slower. There was no rush. His hands gently found their way to your back, pulling you closer but not forcing anything. He just wanted to be close.

You kissed him back, your lips tentative at first but gradually growing more confident as you moved with him. 

It wasn’t perfect.

There were moments of awkwardness, a little shifting as you both figured out the rhythm, but it felt right. It felt... new.

When you finally pulled away, your breathing was a little heavier, and there was that nervous little smile on your face, making Sunghoon’s chest ache with affection.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he teased gently, his thumb brushing over your lips before he smiled down at you, his gaze soft.

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed . “I- no- no it's nice. I like kissing you.”

Sunghoon couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. It was a little silly, maybe, how happy he felt about something so simple. 

"I’m glad," he whispered.

──────────────────────

The days after your first kiss were somehow weird. Nice. But weird.  Your and Sunghoons dynamic didn’t really change after you kissed.  What changed were the small things. Like how Sunghoon had developed a tendency to press a kiss to your forehead or the crown of your head whenever he walked past you. At first, it startled you. Then it became something you looked forward to. Sunoo teasingly claimed it was because Sunghoon didn’t want to overwhelm you by kissing you all the time. Since you really didn’t have much experience there and maybe Sunghoon was afraid you would be uncomfortable. You wouldn’t have been. You wouldn’t have minded at all if Sunghoon kissed you more. In fact, you wanted him to.

You liked the way it felt, his fingers slipping into your hair, the warm pressure of his mouth against yours, the way your breath always caught for a second b. You liked being close to him. That simple.  It was a Thursday evening, the day you handed in your final model in Sustainability,  when you surprised both of you. You were standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands still damp from rinsing a cutting board, when you heard the familiar clink of keys and the quiet creak of the front door. 

Sunghoon padded over behind you, still smelling faintly like his perfume, even after training. He must have brought it to the rink and sprayed it on again. You felt him lean in to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

But this time, you moved first.

You tilted your head up on instinct. The angle was a little off, his nose bumped yours, but it didn’t matter. Your lips caught his, quick and soft, before you could overthink it.

You surprised yourself.

And him.

His eyes were wide for half a second, startled, and then they softened.

You whispered a quiet, breathless, “Hi,” against his lips. 

Sunghoon smiled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your face. He really liked doing that as well. 

“Hi,” he whispered back, eyes still on yours.

Then, with the other hand against your jaw, fingers brushing just under your ear, he tilted your head up a bit and kissed you again. Slower this time. Deeper. And everything in you went quiet and full, like a held breath exhaled at last.

Sunghoon's thumb brushed along your jaw as he pulled back slightly, breath still warm against your skin. His eyes, gentle and a little tired from training, crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Sorry," he murmured, voice low. “I didn’t shower in the rink, I’m a bit gross. I just came to check if you ate.” 

You blinked up at him. Right. Eating.

You wordlessly lifted a finger and pointed toward the calendar hanging by the fridge.

He turned, followed your line of sight and laughed softly. A new sticker sat under the day's date, small and shiny. This one was a tiny white puppy with a floppy ear and a pink tongue sticking out.

"New pack?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, and he reached up to brush his thumb once under your eye, so softly it barely counted as touch. 

“You’re too cute,” he said. His voice was so warm, so fond. You were so happy you got to see Sunghoon like this. 

He leaned in again, just one more press of lips to yours. 

“I’m gonna shower, okay?” he said as he pulled away, slowly, reluctantly.

You nodded again, feeling lightheaded in the nicest possible way.

As he disappeared down the hallway, you stopped for a moment, the soft overhead light casting a golden glow on the counter and the fruit you had forgotten about entirely.

You were giddy.

Your knees felt a little weak and your lips tingled. 

You popped a grape into your mouth and padded to the couch with the plate in hand, settling into the cushions like you had a secret folded under your skin.

You didn’t even pick a show right away - just sat there for a while, nibbling fruit, listening to the sound of water running through the walls, your fingers pressed against your lips.

──────────────────────

When Sunghoon padded out of the bathroom, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his forearms, the first thing he noticed was how quiet the apartment had gotten. The radio that was playing in the kitchen when he came home was quiet and he didn’t hear the TV making any sounds. 

Then he saw you. You were curled up on the sofa, blanket sliding off your shoulder, the plate of fruit halfway eaten empty on the table.

He chuckled under his breath, ruffling his hair with a towel before tossing it over his shoulder. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch the episode?” he asked gently, kneeling next to the couch.

You whined softly, not bothering to open your eyes. “I did…” your voice was muffled by the cushion. “But I'm too tired. I don’t want to get up.”

Sunghoon smiled, shaking his head fondly. “Come on, sleepy. Let’s get you to bed.”

When you didn't move, he sighed and simply slipped one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You let out a tiny squeak as he lifted you with surprising ease.

“Sunghoon!” you protested faintly, eyes fluttering open now.

But he just grinned down at you, walking toward his room with careful steps. “You didn’t move to get up, so now you don’t have to.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, hiding your flushed cheeks. “I didn’t mean you had to carry me.”

He set you down gently at the edge of his bed, grabbing his laptop to queue up the episode again. “Go get ready, yeah? You’re not sleeping in jeans again.”

You pouted, fingers curling around the hem of his hoodie 

It took a moment before you finally shuffled off to the bathroom. When you returned your hair was pulled back in a neat braid and your eyes were half-lidded with sleep. He was already under the covers, the screen glowing with the paused episode.

You climbed in beside him without a word, immediately curling into his side, arm around his waist, cheek to his chest.

“Better?” he murmured, adjusting the blanket around you.

You nodded sleepily, lips barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Mmhm.”

He kissed the top of your head, soft and slow and started the episode.

You were asleep before the second scene.

──────────────────────

You pushed the broccoli on your plate to the side.

It wasn’t even that much food. Not really. It should be more.

But it even the small dinner portion felt like a mountain today

Your stomach felt full from breakfast and lunch and the little snacks you ate in between.

Your mind had started counting again the second you sat down. Like a reel stuck on loop.

210 for the rice. 130 for the chicken. The oil? 40? 50? That made…

You stopped.

Didn’t want to know.

Wanted to know so badly it ached.

The numbers didn’t add up right. Or they added up too much. Or not enough.

This week was supposed to be better.

You were supposed to try harder.

You upped your calorie intake goal last monday.

Just like you had done a week before and a week before that one. You meal prepped your breakfst and lunch, your snacks, cooked with Sunghoon, when both of you were home and not stuck in the academy to prerp for exams.

Your did best to eat it all.

You couldn't.

Not once.

But somehow your stomach rebelled every time. Either you felt too full, too fast, or just sick at the thought of finishing a full plate.

You hadn’t filled in your calendar once. Not a single dog. Not even the tiny one Sunghoon said counted “just for trying.”

You felt like you were breaking your own promises.

Like you were letting everyone down.

However that wasn't the worst thing.

You were lying.

You got home before Sunghoon today. He had group work again, most of the people in his classes being athletes meant that most meetings started late and dragged past 10. He texted you “Dinner together?” and you’d typed “Already ate! But I’ll sit with you :)" before you could overthink it.

Then you tossed the leftover broccoli and chicken into the trash can, tied the bag up and brought it downstairs. You rinsed your plate and the one you usually used for your fruits and set them in the sink.

And you hated yourself a little for it. Not only for wasting food. But for even knowing what to do to make it believable you ate. And did so, for the third time in a row now

You knew Sunghoon would be supportive even if you couldn't eat today.

But maybe he would be mad you lied.

Sunghoon never got mad.

But because he’d be kind.

He’d be soft.

You were disappointing him.

You blinked hard and wiped your palms on your thighs.

It’s just food.

It’s just dinner.

It’s just one stupid sticker.

But it felt like proof. 

Proof that you failed. 

That you weren't getting better, no many how many people helped you.

���─────────────────────

You heard the soft click of the front door unlocking before his familiar footsteps padded down the hallway. You sat up straighter on the couch, quickly grabbing your phone to pretend you hadn’t just been staring blankly at the floor.

He stepped into the living room, hair a little damp from the evening drizzle, eyes tired but bright when they landed on you.

“Hey,” he said softly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You were grateful–so, so grateful–he kissed you there and not on your lips. You weren’t sure what your breath might smell like after hours of nothing but water and mint gum. But you weren’t hungry. That was the worst part. You were feeling so full even if you didn't eat enough for your dog. Even if the thought of doing so made your stomach lurch. Sunghoon dropped onto the couch next to you with a tired exhale, stretching out long beside you. “Group work is the worst,” he muttered, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “I swear half the time is just arguing over who’s doing what. And I got roped into designing the slides again.” You smiled faintly, nodding. You wanted to ask him more, about the project, about the annoying guy in his group he always complained about, but the words didn’t make it to your mouth. Everything was muffled behind a thick, dull fog. His voice softened. “You okay?” You blinked and forced your lips into a gentler curve. “Yeah,” you said. “Just… think I’ve got a migraine coming on.” His brows pulled together in quiet concern. “Do you want me to get your stuff?” You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s fine. I took something already. I just—” you leaned a little into the couch cushions, “—need to rest, I think.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning your face like he didn’t quite believe you but wasn’t going to push. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said after a second. “Gonna wash off real quick.”

You nodded again and watched him disappear down the hallway.

And then you were alone again.

You curled your fingers into the hem of your sweater and exhaled.

You weren’t even sure what you needed to do to feel better.

To eat?

To cry?

To stop feeling like this?

But the only thing you were sure of was this:

You didn’t want him to know.

A few minutes later Sunghoon rounded the couch and dropped down beside you. The cushions dipped under his weight, his familiar warmth filling the small space between you both.

You kept your smile in place, the same soft, practiced curve of your lips. But you felt too aware of your body–of the weight in your stomach, the lingering guilt simmering under your skin.

He stretched his legs out, leaning his head back against the couch, exhaling like he was finally able to breathe again. "I swear I am so glad when my exams are over," he groaned.

You nodded, letting out a faint hum in agreement.

But his gaze flickered to you almost immediately.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Your breath caught, and you stared at the screen of your phone, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Yeah, just… tired.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

You could feel his eyes on you, lingering like he was searching for something you weren’t ready to give.

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten.

A beat passed.

“Did you eat something good for dinner? I'm going to make myself something, do you want to eat a bit with me?” he asked, softer this time.

Your heart stuttered painfully against your ribs. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, nodding with a small smile you hoped looked convincing. “Mhm. I’m fine, I already ate dinner.”

Another pause.

He shifted closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind you. "Did you get your little dog sticker?" His voice was light–teasing–but you could hear the quiet worry threaded beneath it.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look at him, just stared at your hands in your lap as your smile faltered for a split second.

And that was all it took.

His hand gently brushed over your arm. "Y/N," he said softly, "you know you don’t have to lie to me, right? It's okay if you're not feeling okay."

Your throat tightened painfully.

“I’m not—” You stopped yourself. The words tangled. Lying felt worse when he said it like that.

He shifted again, moving to face you fully this time, his knee brushing yours. “It’s okay if you didn’t reach your goal today.” His voice was quiet, careful. “I’m still proud of you for trying.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them.

You shook your head, blinking hard, unable to look at him. “I just… I thought you’d be disappointed.”

“Hey,…” His hand found yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I couldn’t…” You swallowed, the guilt finally pushing its way to the surface. “I couldn’t do it right. Not today. Not this week. I wanted to-but it’s just-” Your breath hitched. “It’s not enough.”

He was quiet for a moment before his hand squeezed yours, grounding and warm.

“It’s always enough,” he said softly. “You’re always enough.”

You finally looked up, and the warmth in his eyes nearly broke you.

“And you don’t have to prove anything to me to make me proud,” he added, voice softer now. “Just… let me be here with you, okay? Even on the days that feel hard.”

Something in your chest cracked open at that.

You nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. “Okay.”

He pulled you into his side without another word, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. 

──────────────────────

You waited until his breathing evened out.

Soft and steady. His arm was draped loosely around your middle, like it always was. 

Your chest felt tight. Like the air in your lungs wasn’t settling right. Like you couldn’t breathe. 

You slid out from under the covers carefully, inch by inch. His body shifted a little, but he didn’t wake up.

You hoped he didn’t.

The kitchen was mostly dark when you padded in barefoot. The city outside glowed faintly through the sheer curtains, casting pale golden lines across the calendar hanging on the fridge. The little dog stickers stared back at you, soft and silly and so stupidly kind-looking it made something inside your chest twist.

None for the last week.

You’d tried.

You really, really tried.

But every time you sat down in front of a plate, something clenched in your gut. The idea of eating more made your throat tight. You felt full already. And not in a satisfied way. In a sick way.

But still you told Sunghoon you had eaten.

You even rinsed off the plate and put it in the sink so it looked like you had.

You had lied to him.

Your eyes burned, staring at that empty row on the calendar. You hugged your knees to your chest, curling up on one of the kitchen chairs like you used to do when you were younger. 

Everything felt too big and too loud and too much.

You didn’t hear him at first.

But then there was the softest creak of the floorboard behind you, and you turned, startled, to see Sunghoon standing at the edge of the hallway. His bleached hair was messy from sleep, a faint crease on one cheek. He was just in sweatpants and a t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up. His eyes locked on yours almost immediately.

“Y/N…” he said softly, his voice thick with sleep and something else. 

Concern.

You looked away.

He walked toward you, bare feet making almost no sound and crouched down beside your chair, resting one hand on the armrest, the other lightly brushing your calf.

“You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, then nodded. You weren’t sure which one was truer.

He followed your gaze to the calendar, to the bare stretch of empty squares. You felt your lip wobble and hated it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, quietly. His hand slid up to your knee, warm and grounding. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I just… I wanted to do better this week.”

“I know.”

“I thought if I just told you I ate enough you wouldn’t be–” You broke off.

He didn’t flinch. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’ll never be.”

You finally looked at him.

He held your gaze for a long moment. And then he stood up slowly, his hand reaching out toward you.

“Come back to bed,” he said, so gently it made your chest ache.

You hesitated.

But then you let him pull you up. Let him wrap your hand in his and guide you through the soft dark of the apartment. Back to the bedroom, back to the bed still warm from where you’d left him.

He pulled the covers up around you, then slid in behind you, arm curling around your waist again.

You exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

And he didn’t say anything else.

Just pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and held you close.

──────────────────────

You woke up to the warmth of his chest against your back, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arm was still around you, hand resting lightly beneath your ribs.

You blinked at the soft light filtering through the curtains. 

It was still morning. 

Late, maybe.

Sunghoon was awake.

You knew it before he spoke. You felt it in the way his thumb was tracing slow, absent-minded shapes against your side. His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Good morning.” he said softly.

You swallowed. “Morning, Hoon.”

“You slept in today.”

You turned slowly onto your back, the sheets rustling as his arm shifted with you. He was looking at you. His hair was a mess, and you could see the stubble of his bear along his chin.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, voice small.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. “You skipped training.”

“I texted my coach,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he cut in gently. “I wanted to stay.”

You looked away, blinking fast.

“I wasn’t trying to hide things from you,” you whispered. “I just… I thought if I could at least pretend I was okay, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

His hand came up, warm and solid against your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his.

“I’m never disappointed in you,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather worry than be lied to.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I wanted to get that stupid sticker,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “But not eating enough to earn it doesn’t make you a failure. It just means we’re still figuring things out.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

After a long pause, he sighed through his nose. “Hey… remember I told you my friends were thinking of grabbing dinner tonight?”

You glanced at him, brows knitting together.

“You said I could come if I wanted to.”

“That’s still true. I know crowds aren’t always your favorite thing, but maybe having a few people around could… I don’t know. Make eating feel less like a thing for a night.”

You thought about it.

After a few seconds you nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s try that.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, warm and proud and relieved all at once.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “We’ll take it slow.”

And you believed him.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon saw you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you smiled at something Heeseung’s girlfriend said, your fingers fidgeting slightly beneath the table. The grill in the center hissed with grease and heat, smoke curling in slow spirals above the sizzling slices of pork belly. He sat beside you, tongs in one hand, quietly turning the meat, brushing it with marinade. Mark told him you used to love samgyopsal.  Now, he watched you hesitate before picking up a piece with your chopsticks. You chewed slowly, nodding as Jay’s girlfriend offered you some of her favorite dipping sauce. You thanked her softly. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. Sunghoon knew. He knew that you were feeling off a bit today.  Yesterday.  Probably the whole last week, since you told him you’d try to eat another 100 kcal more every day now. Since you failed to reach that goal every day for a week now. He hoped that being around people that you enjoyed hanging out with would make it easier. You’ve told him before that you really liked his friends and you ate almost an entire steak the last time when Jay, Jake and Heeseung were over.  But you were quiet tonight. Not withdrawn, just…watchful. You laughed here and there, made conversation, but you weren’t fully with them. He glanced across the table at his friends, who were animated and loud, clinking soju glasses and stacking lettuce wraps with an alarming amount of garlic. And then he looked to the left - at the two girls from his training crew who’d shown up last minute.

You hadn’t said much to them. You’d made the effort, Sunghoon had noticed that too, but he could see you pulling back. It was like the two of them were making everything worse. He just couldn’t understand why.  Sunghoon saw Wonie shift in her seat beside you, tucking her napkin onto her lap before leaning a little closer. "You’re in architecture, right?" she asked, her voice bright. "I think that’s so cool. You must be, like, crazy good at drawing." You smiled, he saw that, but it was that careful, polite kind you used when you were feeling awkward. The one you gave him when he just moved in. When you didn’t know how to answer. “Sometimes,” you said softly, and your fingers toyed with the rim of your glass.

Wonie laughed, unbothered. “Oh! The paintings in your apartment are clearly showing that you don’t just sometimes draw crazy good. They are so beautiful.” You nodded, still smiling, but Sunghoon could see how your shoulders had crept higher, your posture a little too stiff. You were trying so hard.  He wished so badly it would be easier for you.  Sunghoon made sure to keep your plate from going empty, not pushing too much meat, because he knew that was hard. But sweetened pickled radish. A few rice cakes. Rolled omelet. Tiny bites of manageable food, colorful and easy to chew. After a while you excused yourself to go to the restroom. When you got up, Wonyoung waited until you were out of earshot before turning to him and Heeseung, a crease forming between her brows. “Is she okay?” she asked, low enough that the others couldn’t hear. “I was trying to talk to her, but she seemed kinda… out of it.” Heeseung leaned back in his seat, mouth already full of pork belly, and shrugged slightly. “She’s probably just having a rough day. She’s not always super talkative, but she usually warms up. It’s not personal.”

He and Heesueng often talked about you. Sunghoon has told him how you were doing, kept him updated because Heeseung himself asked quite frequently how you were doing. He assumed it was because Heesung knew what it meant to love someone who was struggling. Sunghoon was aware that Heeseungs his friends' girlfriends has had a hard life as well and even if she didn’t let it shine through too often, Heeseung had told him that she was often struggling as well.  So he guessed Heeseung kinda knew what was going on with you tonight.  He knew Heeseung, even if he was getting giggly and drunk, would never tell a stranger about it though.   Wonie nodded, but glanced back toward the hallway. “She seems really sweet. Just... quiet.” Sunghoon didn’t say much. He just hummed, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. Because yeah. You were sweet. You were quiet. And that was okay.  When you came back to the table, Sunghoon’s eyes went to your face first, like they always did, and then, almost unconsciously, drifted down to your hands. Your knuckles looked normal. No redness. No telltale signs. But he still looked. Every time. He told himself he wasn’t being paranoid. Not really. Just… cautious. Just watching. Because he knew you. Knew how hard you tried, how strict you could be with yourself. He’d seen your calendar, the quiet pride on your face when you stuck a little dog sticker onto the square. But he also knew the days you didn’t. He knew that when you missed a sticker, sometimes it was just a few calories but sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was an entire skipped meal. Sometimes it was trying too hard. Always trying too hard. You’d raised your goal last week. He knew that too. And you were so strict about it, like one missed calorie was failure. Like one sticker not earned meant you'd let everyone down. Like he would be disappointed. As if that could ever be true. Sunghoon leaned forward and turned the grill down a little, just to give his hands something to do. He watched you nudge a piece of sweet pancake around your plate, like you were trying to convince yourself you wanted it. When you caught his eye, you gave him the smallest smile. A tired one. But real. He gave you one back and reached for your hand beneath the table, just brushing his fingers over your knuckles once. Soft. Gentle.

──────────────────────

When you got home, it was late and cold outside. The scent of grilled meat clinged to your hair, your clothing. You toed off your shoes in the hallway and padded into the kitchen without a word. Sunghoon followed a few minutes later after locking the door and flicking off the hallway light. The only glow now came from the small lamp you kept on the kitchen counter, casting a soft golden pool across the room. You stood in front of the calendar. He saw the way your shoulders dropped before you even spoke. “I can’t put a sticker up, Honnie,” you whispered. “Again." His chest tightened. He didn’t answer right away, just walked up slowly behind you until he could place a gentle hand on your back. You didn’t flinch, but your head dipped forward like the shame was heavy. “I tried. I really did. But it just… I couldn’t.”

He didn’t ask how much you missed it by. He already knew it didn’t matter to you, it would still feel like failure to you, no matter the number. So he spoke softly. “Do you want to lower the goal again? Just a bit?” You turned to face him slowly, your eyes glossy but dry. “I thought I could handle more,” you said. “I thought it’d make me better. I just wanted to be- I wanted you to be proud.” His heart cracked a little more at that. He stepped in, arms slipping around your waist, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “I’m already proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “Every single day.” You didn’t reply, just stood there in his arms, arms wound tight around his middle. And maybe he felt the tiniest tremble in your fingers when you finally clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Let’s change the goal tomorrow,” he whispered. “Not because you failed. But because we’re learning. Okay?” You nodded against him.

“Okay.”

──────────────────────

You stared at your phone in disbelief.  You had done it. You had eaten enough today. You could finally glue a sticker to your calendar again. 

You reached for the sticker sheet with slightly trembling fingers. Sunghoon bought another pack of dog stickers a few days ago. These ones were pale yellow puppies with pink cheeks. You peeled one off carefully and placed it onto the day’s square, softly pressing it down. A breath broke out of your chest, and you felt lighter. Then a laugh. Then, without thinking, you were calling Sunghoon. He picked up halfway through the fourth ring, a bit breathless, the shouting of his coach over someone's music locker muffled in the background. “Hey, Y/Nie—what’s up?” You sat down at the kitchen table, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I did it,” you whispered. “I get a dog today.” There was a pause, half a beat, before he made a soft, stunned sound, full of joy. “You did?”

“I did.” “Wait – hold on,” he said, voice muffled as he must’ve turned to cover the receiver. Then clearer, “I’m so proud of you. Wait– wait, I have something, too.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. “What?” “I qualified,” he said. “For the invitational next spring. My coach just told me.” Your hand flew to your mouth. “No way.” “Yeah. I don’t know how that happened but it seems like my lucky streak is back!” You felt like bursting. You felt full. In the best way. You whispered, “We did so good today.” He chuckled, soft and low. “Yeah, we did.” As you hung up, a warm, calm feeling settled over you. You had decided to lower the calorie goal and that was okay. You had listened to Ten, to Johnny, to Mark and to Sunghoon.  They all told you it was okay to stagnate for a little while. Recovery wasn’t meant to be linear.

It was okay to take a step back. You weren’t giving up, you were just being kinder to yourself. You still had work to do, but you weren’t trying to run a marathon when you weren’t even sure how to walk yet.  Without thinking, you picked up your pen and reached for the calendar again. You drew two tiny stars next to the dog sticker. Then three more. Then a few sparkles in gold. One for him. One for you. One for both of you. You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling just a little bit. You stared at the stars, the gold dots gleaming in the soft kitchen light.  You had earned this.  It felt good to say that. When Sunghoon came home, he paused at the door, eyes falling on the calendar before he even took off his shoes. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You really did it?” he asked, his voice warm with a mixture of pride and affection. You nodded, suddenly feeling more confident than you had in a long time. “I did. And… I’m okay with it. I think I made the right choice by lowering the calorie goal.” His eyes softened as he walked closer, lifting his hand to brush his fingers through your hair and cradle your face. “I’m proud of you. I’m really proud of you.” Your heart swelled. You had no idea what you would’ve done without him, without this space where you could grow. And even though you didn’t have all the answers, you were beginning to understand that it was okay. Sunghoon smiled at the calendar again. “I think I might need to get you more dog stickers,” he teased, pulling you into a closer. You laughed softly. “You’re gonna spoil me,” you said, a playful glint in your eye. “I’m gonna spoil you because you deserve it,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making your chest warm, before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

──────────────────────

The wind was a little too chilly and you buried your face in Sunghoon's scarf.  It smelled so distinctly of him.  Of home.  You’ve just handed in your last model for this semester and were walking back home instead of taking the bus. It was a forty minute walk, but you enjoyed seeing something else than your apartment, the studio or the rink.  You found yourself walking aimlessly, when something caught your eye. An elegant, minimalist hair salon with a large glass window showcasing sleek, shiny haircuts and smooth blowouts. You paused. You had been thinking about cutting your hair for a while now. It was brittle and thin and you had it in a braid more times than not, since it was long enough to annoy you.  Maybe it was time for a change.

You walked up to the door, hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open. The salon was warm, and the air smelled faintly of floral-scented hair products. A stylist greeted you with a smile. "Hi, welcome! How can I help you today?" You smiled, trying to sound casual, even though your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. "Uh, I was wondering if you had any slots available today?" She checked her schedule, her fingers tapping lightly on the screen. "We do have one opening in an hour. Would that work for you?" You nodded eagerly. “Yes, perfect. I’ll be back then.” She handed you a quick form to fill out and you wandered out of the salon, mind buzzing. What were you even doing? You didn’t even have a clear idea of what kind of cut you wanted. You only knew that you needed to change something.  You strolled around the nearby shops, your thoughts running wild. You ended up spending most of the time in a arts and crafts store, trying out different new pens and materials and buying new stickers. Snowmen, since winter and christmas was right around the corner. You glanced at the time on your phone and hurried back to the salon. When you returned, the stylist was ready for you, and she smiled at you warmly as she led you to the chair.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, setting the cape around your shoulders. You took a deep breath and smiled shyly. “I’m not really sure what I want, but I think... I want to go shorter. Maybe above my shoulders? Something that will make my hair look fuller and give it some life?” She nodded thoughtfully. “Got it. I think going shorter will help with volume. Do you want layers, or just a clean chop?” You hesitated for a moment, then decided, “Layers sound good. Something soft, but not too much. I want it to feel light, not too heavy.” The stylist smiled and gave you a reassuring nod. “Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” As she began cutting, you sank into the chair, your thoughts running quietly in the background. It felt good to take control of something for once, to make a change without worrying about the consequences By the time the cut was done, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled softly. It was shorter than you expected, but in a good way. It framed your face, the layers adding a bit of volume and movement. You ran your fingers through it.  When the stylist finished, she spun the chair around so you could get a full look. “How does that feel?” “Good,” you said, feeling a rush of confidence you hadn’t had in a while. “I think I love it.”

She smiled. “Great choice. It’s always refreshing to try something new.” You paid for the cut and thanked her profusely before heading back out into the city streets.  As you stepped out of the salon and walked back toward your apartment, your mind started to race. Would Sunghoon think it looks good? He had always liked your hair. Loved it, really.  He loves to run his fingers through it whenever he had the chance to. He always told you he loved how long and pretty it was.  It wasn’t long anymore. More of a bob, just above your shoulders, with soft layers framing your face. It was fresh, bouncy, and definitely gave off a different vibe. Would he think you were still... pretty? You chewed your bottom lip, glancing at your reflection in the windows as you passed by the shops. The bob looked great, but you were still unsure if it was exactly what he would expect or if he would even like it. But it’s not about what he expects, you reminded yourself. 

It’s about what you want.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon’s arms were overflowing as he fumbled his way through the door, balancing a grocery bag precariously in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. His key clattered noisily onto the side table as he shoved the door open with his hip, barely managing to keep the apples that were laying on the top from rolling out of the bag. "Hi Y/N! I am ho-" he stopped mid sentence. You were standing in the kitchen preparing dinner. And your hair— He blinked, stunned, trying to process what he was seeing. It was shorter. Soft waves curled just beneath your chin, brushing against your neck in a way that made his stomach flip violently. God, you looked so beautiful. Sunghoon didn’t even remember letting go of the bags, only registering the soft thump of them hitting the floor a second later.  All he could see was you.

All he could think about was you. Before he knew it, he was crossing the room in three big strides, almost tripping over himself in his rush to get to you. You turned around at the sound, eyes widening slightly at the sudden movement, and gave him the shyest, tiniest smile. Without thinking, Sunghoon cupped your face in his hands, his fingers immediately finding their way into the soft strands of your new haircut. It felt so different. Lighter. Softer. “Do you like it?” you asked, voice so small he almost missed it. “Like it?” he repeated, his voice hoarse. He huffed out a laugh, disbelieving, awestruck. “Baby, you look–” He didn’t even finish. Instead, he dipped his head down and kissed you, hard.

You let out a startled little squeak against his mouth, hands flailing for half a second before settling against his chest. His mouth slanted over yours desperately and a little clumsy, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough. His fingers slid into your soft, feather-light hair, brushing through the strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you to him. For a second he feared that overwhelmed you and that you wanted to stop kissing, that you wanted to pull away. You didn’t. In fact, you tilted your head up, chasing after him just as eagerly, your giggle bubbling against his mouth. He pulled back a fraction to breathe, but didn’t even make it a full second before diving back in, kissing you again. His hand slipped from your hair down to your waist, tugging you flush against him. He savored the way you melted against him, the way your fingers slipped up to tangle in the fabric of his hoodie. He could feel the way your heart raced against his chest, matching the frantic beat of his own. He should have stopped there.

He should have. But Sunghoon was completely, hopelessly addicted to you. He kissed you again, and again, and again. Each kiss grew deeper, a little more desperate. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way his hands slid down to your waist, couldn’t help the way his thumb traced the line of your jaw, memorizing every inch of you. You broke apart, gasping, and he caught a glimpse of your flushed cheeks and the wide, dazed smile you gave him.

“Sunghoon–” you started, laughing breathlessly. He cut you off with another kiss, just because he could. This time slower, more deliberate, his lips teasing at the corners of your mouth before fully capturing them again. His hands roamed, stroking your sides, feeling the way you trembled just slightly under his touch. You weren’t exactly passive either. Your hands slid up his chest, fists bunching in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. When he flicked his tongue lightly against your lower lip, testing, you gasped, the sound shooting straight through him like a live wire. He pulled back again, barely, resting his forehead against yours, panting a little. “God,” he muttered, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a kind of reverence. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” You smiled, all shy and giddy, still half in his arms. “I just got a haircut…” you whispered, almost like you couldn’t believe the reaction you were getting.

Sunghoon shook his head, pulling you impossibly closer. “It’s not just the haircut. It’s you. It’s always been you.” He laughed breathlessly, pressing another quick kiss to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until you were giggling uncontrollably and hiding your face in his chest. God. He loved you so much it hurt. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing you in, and mumbled, “I think dinner’s gonna have to wait a little longer.” You only laughed harder, and Sunghoon smiled so wide it made his cheeks ache. He held you there for a moment, your heart beating against his, his hands stroking gently through your freshly cut hair before you pulled back, looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. His mouth moved against yours with slow, heady urgency, coaxing little gasps from you that made him grin against your lips. You shifted, standing on your toes to kiss him back harder, and he groaned quietly in approval, his fingers flexing where they held you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sunghoon knew he should slow down, but it was so hard when you were right here in your shared kitchen, wrapped around him. He kissed you until both of you were dizzy, until your giggles had melted into soft whimpers against his lips. And even then, he only pulled away reluctantly, trailing kisses along your jaw, your temple, savoring every second, every inch of you. When he finally leaned back enough to look at you, your cheeks were flushed, your lips kiss-swollen, and your eyes shining up at him like he hung the stars. You both just stood there, breathing each other in, hearts racing, faces so close he could feel your every exhale. “I guess… you like the haircut?” you teased softly, breathless. Sunghoon laughed, low and breathy, his thumb brushing the edge of your smile. “Like doesn’t even cover it, baby.” He kissed you again, gentler now. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into your skin. “You’re so perfect it’s actually unfair.” And when you hid your face in his chest, giggling and overwhelmed, Sunghoon just held you tighter, knowing in his bones that he never wanted to let you go. Not now. Not ever.

──────────────────────

The jewelry store was quiet except for the soft hum of the lights above and the occasional muted conversation between staff and customers. Sunghoon stood at the counter, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, his heart hammering against his ribs. In front of him, under the glass, sat dozens of glittering rings, each one more beautiful than the last. And somehow, none of them felt good enough. “She’s gonna love whatever you pick, you know that, right?” Heeseung’s voice cut through his swirling thoughts. Sunghoon looked over at him, managing a weak laugh. “Yeah. I know. I’m just-” He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I want it to be perfect.” Heeseung leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a little half-smile. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, nudging Sunghoon lightly with his elbow. “You’ve been together forever. She’s already picked you, dumbass. She would probably marry you in a paper ring.” Sunghoon huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was right. You probably would. Heeseung tilted his head, that familiar glint in his eye. “Remember what I told you? Way back when? If you played your cards right, those monkey stickers would stay forever?” He grinned. “Guess what, bro? You played ‘em right. Your little monkey’s still around.” Sunghoon’s chest tightened at the nickname. You didn’t need the sticker charts anymore, not for years now. But somehow Heeseung still teasingly called you ‘monkey,’. Sunghoon still has that calender with the many different stickers in a little box in his closet. He took it out from time to time. Years had passed, but in Sunghoon’s mind, it felt like time had both flown by and stood still all at once. He was no longer just the aspiring skater, chasing a dream. He had made it. His name was known in the skating world now. He had won the olympics, not once but twice. And through it all, you had been there. Sunghoon smiled down at the glass, a lump growing in his throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’s still here.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mind drifted back to those small moments he spend with you. Those quiet nights on the sofa, wathcing silly dramas, talking, sleeping together, first in your small shared student apartment, then one in Busan, and now the one in your apartment near the olympia park. He had seen you blossom–recovering, becoming the strong, beautiful woman you were today. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Heeseung. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything back then.”

Heeseung shrugged, but there was warmth in his eyes. “You don’t have to. Just watching the two of you… that’s enough, man.” He nodded at the rings. “You’ve both earned this. All of it. It’s about time you made her your forever. Now hurry up and pick one so you can make it official already. Before I start crying or something, and then we’ll both be embarrassed.” Sunghoon laughed, and leaned closer to the glass, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge. One particular ring caught his eye. Simple. Elegant. Not flashy, but quietly beautiful. Just like you. He pointed at it. “That one.” His voice was firm, certain. “That’s the one.”

Heeseung whistled low under his breath. “Oh it's pretty. Monkey’s gonna lose her mind.” Sunghoon grinned. He could already imagine it, your hands trembling as he slipped the ring onto your finger, your watery smile, the way you’d throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. He could picture every second of it. “She’s my everything,” Sunghoon said quietly, almost to himself. Heeseung clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re hers. Always have been.” This was it. The start of your forever. A forever he had fought for, that you both had earned with every smile, every late-night talk, every sticker on that old calendar.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands @ikeumina @softchannie @sirens-dreams @schmocolateschmchip @vviolynn @nishiimuraka @enhalxvr @ijustreallylike2read @enhastolemyheart @wintereals @planetmarlowe @baeeeeah @wonzzziezzzz @mochamvgz @lovtaesunu @makeme1cream @stars4jo @vviolynn @lylaloopsie @meimeiyh @motherscrustytoenailclippings @haerni @sooberriesx @nishiimuraka (did this actually work? Somehow I can’t use any of the links from the tags?)

ᝰ an. Its done. 87.583 words later. I am so happy with how this turned out. I also did infact not sleep or do my uni stuff for the last week, because I so desperately wanted to finish this and see what my brain would be coimng up with. The quality probably suffered a bit under my sleep deprived brain working on this... I actually forgot to write a few scenes I planned to include, but I'll probably release them as one shots at one point. Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story and waiting for the final parts. It has been a long ride. ₊ ⊹  

[chrepsi]

ˇ ⋆ ╱ sleeping - c. sturniolo

a/n ; THIS SONG. GIGI I LOVE YOU

wc ; 1k+

i should be sleeping.

the room is quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like your own thoughts are screaming. the fan overhead hums a low, lazy rhythm and the streetlight outside chris’s window casts soft shadows against the wall. the glow slips through the blinds and lands in broken lines across the bed. it’s the kind of night that feels suspended, like time’s holding its breath.

chris is lying beside me, close but not touching. always close, but never quite close enough. his back is to me, shoulders rising and falling slowly beneath the worn fabric of his t-shirt. i can’t see his face, but i know he's awake. i can feel it in the way his body tenses every now and then. he’s not sleeping either. he just doesn’t want to admit it.

neither of us do.

this bed is starting to feel like purgatory. a place between being wanted and being forgotten.

i stare at the ceiling. my mind replays the same thoughts, the same questions, looping over and over like a song i don’t know how to turn off.

we shouldn't be here. not like this.

but i don’t move. and neither does he.

“i can’t sleep,” i whisper into the dark. my voice barely audible, like if i say it too loud, it might shatter whatever fragile thing we’re still clinging to.

he doesn’t respond at first. i wonder if he’s pretending again. pretending he’s already drifted off, that he didn’t hear me, that this isn’t happening. that we aren’t happening.

but then his voice comes, low and rough. “i know.”

just that. two words, and somehow they feel heavier than silence.

i shift onto my side, trying to read him. “why do we do this?”

chris turns slightly, just enough that i can catch the side of his face. his profile is outlined by the light, sharp and soft all at once. “do what?”

“this,” i gesture vaguely between us. “be together when we’re not really… together.”

he sighs, the kind of sigh that feels older than it should. “i don’t know. maybe it’s easier than being alone.”

his honesty stings. not because it isn’t true—but because it is. being here with him feels like pretending the loneliness isn’t real. like if we just lie close enough, maybe it’ll fill the space we can’t seem to name.

but I’m tired of pretending.

“do you ever think about what this even is?” i ask.

chris’s jaw tightens for a second. he runs a hand through his hair, fingers pausing near the back of his neck like he’s trying to anchor himself to something. “yeah,” he says finally. “i think about it more than i want to.”

“then why don’t we talk about it?”

he laughs under his breath, and it’s not a happy sound. “because talking makes it real.”

i sit up, folding my legs beneath me. my heart feels heavy in my chest. “and this isn’t real?”

he looks up at me then. his eyes are darker in the dim light, shadows dancing across his face. there’s something haunted in them. something tired.

“i don’t know what this is,” he says. “i just know it’s not simple.”

i press my lips together. i want to scream. i want to cry. i want to shake him and ask why he pulls me in just to keep me at arm’s length. why he makes me feel like maybe i'm the only one who sees the cracks—then acts like he’s already fallen through them.

but i don’t do any of that.

because i get it. he’s scared. so am i.

chris shifts and sits up beside me, our knees almost touching. he glances over, his voice quieter now. “you know i care about you, right?”

i nod. “but that’s not enough.”

“i know.”

we sit in silence, and i can feel the weight of everything we’ve never said pressing down on us. i wish he would just say it—that he loves me. that he’s afraid. that maybe he doesn’t know how to love someone without breaking them in the process.

instead, he says, “you’re gonna leave eventually.”

the words hang there like smoke in the air.

i look at him, stunned. “what?”

“you’ll get tired of this. of me. of… not being enough.”

my chest tightens. “chris, i'm already tired. but not of you. i'm tired of pretending like this doesn’t matter.”

his eyes meet mine, and i see something flicker—regret, maybe. or longing. i can’t tell which hurts more.

“i don’t know how to be what you need,” he says quietly.

“i’m not asking for perfect,” i whisper. “i'm asking for honest. i’m asking for real.”

chris reaches out then, fingers brushing lightly against mine. it’s the smallest touch, but it sends a jolt through me, like maybe we’re still alive in this mess.

“i'm trying,” he says. “even if it doesn’t look like it.”

we stay like that for a while. not kissing. not crying. just… being. two people tangled in a feeling too big to name, too fragile to hold.

eventually, he lies back down and pulls me with him. this time, he doesn’t face away. he wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. his hand settles on my back, warm and steady.

“i don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs against my hair.

“you don’t have to,” i say. “you just have to choose me.”

the silence that follows isn’t empty. it’s filled with something that almost feels like hope.

maybe tomorrow, he’ll wake up and stay. maybe next time, we won’t be sleeping next to each other, pretending not to feel anything. maybe one day, we’ll stop living in the maybe.

but tonight— tonight, i close my eyes in his arms and pretend it’s enough. even if we’re only half-awake. even if we’re still floating just shy of falling.

and in the quiet, in the warmth of his skin against mine, i let myself believe—

that love doesn’t always need to be loud to be real. sometimes, it whispers. sometimes, it lingers in the space between sleep and waking. sometimes, it’s just this.

chris. me. and the almosts we keep pretending are enough.

<3 taglist ; @trevorsgodmother @pr3ttylittleslutt @v4lsturn @wildfluer @delilahsturniolo @courta13 @kisses4chris @chrispycremedonut @chrisspussygang @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @baebadoobee4ever @emely9274 @mvkyis @mattsbug @sturniqloo @mattsleftball @tits4matt @mothstvrnz @joanakaulitz @mialovesyouchris @belle-ee @owenstar @sturnsalcohol @joanakaulitz @cherryystemm @angeliolo

( reply here to be added )

[angel-writes-here]

Desire in the Shadows

G-Dragon x AFAB! Reader x Choi Seunghyun Synopsis: Fun times on vacation lead to fun times in the bedroom Warnings: SMUT! Protected p in v, oral (both receiving) praise kink, pet names such as kitten, good girl, baby, etc. Semi exhibitionism, fingering. A/N: I hope you guys like this! Comment to be added to my taglist! ❣ Requests are OPEN

Dinner was running smoothly; laughing, conversation, and a nice flow of drinks for the whole group, it was warm, inviting and felt a smidge nostalgic. Big Bang was on a short break in between their shows and the group decided a mini vacation was the perfect way to spend it.

Jiyong kept his hand on your thigh the whole night, and while you weren’t shy about your boyfriend’s PDA, you would catch Seunghyun staring sometimes. If he seen that you noticed, his attention would divert, almost always. But tonight, the alcohol does it’s thing and gives everyone a little bit of liquid courage.

Back at the hotel, Daesung, Taeyang and Seunghyun bid you and Jiyong good night. The two of you start the night off with a movie, but it quickly turns into steamy make out session, tongues battling each others, soft moans and chuckles against each other's mouths, and teeth that would nibble someone's bottom lip. Both of you blissfully unaware of the older member’s actions.

He sits in his room, trying to watch tv but the image of you in your dress from dinner, sitting across from him, the dim lighting letting him see just enough of your cleavage to make him nervous is burned into his brain. He can’t stop thinking about it.

So, he does what any man would do when he can’t stop thinking about his hyung’s girlfriend, he rubs one out.

Unable to ignore the tight feeling in his pants he begins to pump his own length, legs sprawled out, door locked, of course.

Slowly at first, curses fly out under his breath, his eyes are closed as he leans back, stroking himself to the image and his mind flows to what your mouth would feel like, the texture of your tongue against the thickness of his cock. How it would feel swirling around the head. He knew it was wrong; you loved Jiyong and Jiyong loved you, but he just couldn’t help himself, he was hard at dinner and thank God he was able to conceal it.

His heavy breathing fills the room upstairs, soft groans and moans follow shortly as he picks up the pace, spreading his precum over himself to make his hand move quicker, This isn't about taking his time, it's about getting off so he can be done with it. A warm coil forms in his belly, and your name falls from his lips in hushed whispers as he finds an inconsistent pace the closer and closer he gets. It’s not long before hot white streaks are coating his stomach and he’s trying to catch his breath.

Meanwhile you and Jiyong have decided to put the pool to good use. At first you're swimming, lightly splashing each other and having a good time, then you were looking out over the city at the edge of the infinity pool, the lights illuminating the sky.

Jiyong comes up behind you, pressing kisses to your neck, you sigh and lean back into him, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his tongue darting out over your skin. You hum in response and he chuckles against your skin.

His fingers brush your chest, nipples hard from the cool air. The sensation travels down into your belly. Jiyong mimics his movements and thus a moan leaves your throat.

“Shh, jagi,” he teases.

“Do you want us to get caught?” Jiyong’s smirk is evident in his face. You can feel his cock, hard and ready against your ass. Jiyong’s hand dips under the water, quickly finding your clit and begins to rub circles slow and teasing.

Your hips jerk and small whimpers fall from your lips as he feels your grind down under the water.

“Aww, pretty girl, you want me to go faster?” His voice drips with a mock sympathy.

“Please,” you whine.

-

Seunghyun finally calms down, taking a cigarette out and stepping out onto his little balcony that overlooks the pool. He see’s you and Jiyong at the edge, and starts to hear your whimpers and moans softly bouncing off the walls of the building. He takes a drag off the cigarette, listening to you, practically feeling you on his all ready hard again cock.

He closes his eyes, it’s one thing for it to be a fantasy, to imagine everything, but now he has a memory he can cling to; for better or worse.

-

Jiyong can sense it, someone’s watching, and so can you, but your too far gone to care who it is or why they're doing it. If they want a show, then they’ll get one.

“Baby I ne- ah, need you,” you choke out. Jiyong turns you around and he attaches his lips to your neck smirking.

“Patience baby,” he teases. You see Seunghyun standing on his balcony. Your eyes are wide as you notice he doesn’t move.

“Fuck, Jiyong,” you say just a little louder than necessary.

Jiyong’s mouth forms into a smile against your skin.

“Is it him?” He asks against your neck.

“Mhm, watching us.” You whisper in his ear.

“You,” Jiyong teases before nibbling on your earlobe. Jiyong wasn’t oblivious to Seunghyun’s crush on you. But he wasn’t sure how deep his feelings for you ran, either.

You’re so focused on Seunghyun, who just stands there, not totally unaware you’ve caught him, when Jiyong gently starts fucking his fingers into your cunt.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh out as your head is forced to drop onto his shoulder from the pleasure. Your breathing becomes heavier and by the time you have the strength to pick your head back up, Seunghyun is gone. Your heart races a little.

Your hips move in time with Jiyong’s thrusts, his long fingers hitting your sweet spot.

“Fuck, fuck,” you choke out in his ear. Your arms go around his shoulders, holding onto him as you can feel your orgasm build stronger and stronger. The water around you is sloshing and you’re doing your best to not wake up anyone sleeping around you.

Your mouth is pressed beside Jiyong’s ear, panting heavily, when you catch a glimpse of Seunghyun downstairs, just inside the doors. Your mouth drops open in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed for a second as your orgasm washes over you and your hips roll, a loud moan escaping your mouth.

“Fuck, he just seen me cum,” you whisper in his ear. Jiyong can only chuckle as he quickly replaces his fingers with his cock.

“Now he can watch you get fucked,” he taunts as his hips move quickly. The water making waves around you.

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you? Wanted him to see how pretty you look when you fall apart because of me? Hmm? So he watch you cum all over me and make a fucking mess?” he teases cockily. You groan in response, both form pleasure and small shred of embarrassment. You’d always wondered how bold Seunghyun would be. Tonight, you’re finding out.

Jiyong’s cock fills up every inch of your cunt, your nails dig into his bare skin as your breathing becomes more labored.

“Fuck, baby,” Jiyong curses as you clench around him. His hips snap against yours underwater.

“I can’t believe you wanted to get caught,” he laughs mainly to himself.

You can only whine in response, burying your head into his neck.

“Oh, so my hyung watching you get fucked turns you on,” he muses as a smirk appears on his face. He was teasing at first, but now he realizes you wanted this, maybe even fantasized about it. As your orgasm builds, Jiyong stills.

“Jiyong what the actual fuck,” you go to protest before he pulls out of you.

“Come on,” he huffs. The two of you get out of the pool and when you look, once again Seunghyun has disappeared. You towel dry off and you check his balcony; he isn’t there either.

“What are we doing?” Jiyong doesn’t answer. Only smirks and kisses your lips. He takes your hand and leads you inside.

“Go wash off,” he points to the bathroom once inside your room.

“Jiyong, seriously, you could’ve let me cum."

“Shh, stop protesting and trust me,” he winks. You do as he says and take off the damp swim suit, washing off in the shower. As the hot water cascades down your body, you hear the door to your room shut.

-

Seunghyun hears a knock on his door. When he see’s Jiyong his eyes grow wide and he slowly opens it, concealing the bottom half of his body behind it.

“Hey,” he says weakly, trying to look casual.

“You were watching us?” Jiyong can’t hide his smirk. Seunghyun’s face gives it all away.

“I, I, uh,” Seunghyun has no words.

“’s ok.” He shrugs.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He walks into the room. 

-

After the shower you walk out to see a sexy little set of lingerie that Jiyong had picked for you. He must have seen it and bought it while he was out shopping the day prior.

You slip it on and just as you’re sitting on the bed in a provocative pose, the door opens and you see Jiyong walk in, with Seunghyun in tow. Your eyes grow wide. Jiyong smirks at the sight before him.

“I-I didn’t know he was,” you scramble off the bed and Jiyong just walks over to you, both hands reaching up to rub your arms as Seunghyun stands on the other side of the room, he can’t quite make eye contact with you, but your eyes catch sight of the bulge in his pants. Your eyes widen and you look at Jiyong who has that knowing, cocky little smirk.

“It’s ok, you did exactly what you were supposed to.” He coaxes you back over to the bed.

“Come on, show me how beautiful you look,” he helps you move your body back to the way it was before they both entered. Seunghyun steals a glance at you, and what was meant to be a temporary flick of the eyes turned into him blatantly staring at you.

“God she’s gorgeous,” he groans. Jiyong smiles at you like you’re a prized painting he’s picked out.

“What do you say?” He taunts.

“T-thank you,” you blush under their gazes, Jiyong sliding in behind you pressing your back to his chest.

“I wanna watch,” he whispers in your ear and you glance at him, lip between your teeth.

“Come on, hyung.” Jiyong beckons. Seunghyun walks over, looking just over you, almost nervous to touch you.

“Tell him he can, kitten.”

You sit up from his back and take Seunghyuns hand, the nervous look on his face intensifies slightly as you pull him to you. You glance at his lips before you connect your yours to his.

Seunghyun follows you and gets on his knees as you lean back against Jiyong. Seunghyun moans into the kiss, eyes opening like he’s afraid he’s dreaming, only to see Jiyong placing feather like kisses onto your shoulders.

Seunghyun gathers a bit of courage and moves his lips to your neck, Jiyong doing the same thing at the same time. You gasp and their tongues dart out in unison to lick a stripe from your shoulder to just below your ear. The two move in sync, either together doing the same thing, or one right after the other. Your head is spinning when you feel Seunghyun’s hand rub gently over your clothed slit.

You whimper in response.

“Use your words,” Seunghyun reminds you playfully.

“Don’t tease me,” you squirm.

“Patience Jagi. I told him to take his time,” Jiyong whispers as his hands move to your chest, nipples hard through the thin material.

You feel each boy pull down a strap from the top and it’s swiftly removed. Seunghyun takes a moment to drink in your appearance.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He smirks at you. Seunghyun nods like he’s all ready gone dumb.

He leans in and kisses your lips once more before attaching his mouth to your nipple, swirling his tongue around, flicking the hard bud.

“You want me too or just him?” Jiyong asks. Thought of both of them had you squeezing your thighs together.

You glance at Jiyong and look at his face closely.

“I want you both,” you gasp as Jiyong’s finger lightly squeeze’s your unattended nipple. He moans.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear causing you to shudder. You can feel the heat radiating from your pussy. Your thighs rub together as Jiyong wraps his mouth around your other nipple and both of them flick and stimulate you. They both look up at you through their lashes.

You’re leaning back against the pillows when your feel two hands go up the inside of your thighs; one is Seunghyun’s and one is Jiyong’s. Seunghyun abandons your breast, your nipple getting harder as the cool air hits it.

He kisses down your stomach, glancing at Jiyong, who kisses his way back up to your lips. Your mouth is open and his tongue runs across yours when you feel Seunghyun play with the straps of your panties, he playfully snaps one against you and you jump a little, eliciting a quiet chuckle from him.

Jiyong bites your lip gently before pulling away. He allows you to look at his Hyung as he settles between your legs once your panties are gone.

“Come on, watch him,” he mumbles and you blush as Jiyong nibbles on the skin on your neck.

Seunghyun spreads your soaked folds with his fingers.

“God you’re already this wet?”

“She got off on you watching her,” he teases and you whine, wanting to hide your face.

“Ah, ah, ah, good girls watch their boyfriend’s best friend eat their pussy. You watch and I’ll let you cum for him.” Your cunt clenches around nothing and Seunghyun takes that as his cue to start. He kitten licks at your clit, testing to be sure you’re comfortable. When your hips push down to him, he starts swirling his tongue in more consistent circles, making your back arch off the back of the bed.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan out. Seunghyun grins, his hips pressing down into the bed a little as he starts to rut.

“Fuck this is hot,” Jiyong groans against your ear.

“Watching him take care of you, you falling apart,” he captures your lips in a possessive kiss as Seunghyun’s tongue teasingly sticks in your hole tasting you.

He goes back to licking and lapping at your sensitive bud. You watch as Seunghyun quickly raises up a little and puts two of his fingers near your mouth.

“Suck them,” he says dominantly. Once again, your walls contract around nothing. He watches as his fingers disappear and his cock starts leaking as he feels the way your tongue swirls around them. Once they’re wet enough, he sticks his face back down in your heat and plunges his fingers into you, making you gasp and arch off the bed again. His fingers curl just enough to hit your g spot, your eyes almost brimming with tears once Jiyong plays with your nipples again, the stimulation feeling phenomenal and slightly over-whelming.

“Fuck, I’m, ah,” you whimper. Your hips roll with Seunghyun’s movements and he’s practically drunk on you, just content with making you feel as good as ever.

“Ah, fuck,” you hear Jiyong whimper as you look over and see his hand in his pants.

“Come, fuck,” your eyes shut at the intense feeling, “come here,” you pant as he inches closer. You replace his hand with your own, teasing him slightly as you pump his cock for him, his head falling back.

“Fuck,” he groans. Seunghyun speeds up his movements, your orgasm beginning to form causing your hand to quickly lose its initial rhythm.

“’s ok, jagi,” he pants slowly helping you take your hand off and replacing it with his own, wanting you to enjoy every ounce of pleasure you can.

“Ji,” you whimper over at him, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Go ahead,” he groans.

Your pleasure crashes into you like a truck, white stars appearing in your vision briefly as your body leaves the bed for a moment, your head digging into the mattress.

Your breathing is rapid and uncontrolled as Seunghyun beings to clean you up with his warm and smooth tongue, the ceiling being the only thing you can somewhat focus on until you feel Seunghyun’s lips just above your navel.

He kisses his way back to your lips, his tongue brushing yours.

“All fours,” he commands and you nod, too stimulated to speak at the moment.

You do as your told, Jiyong quickly tossing Seunghyun a condom. You hear the packet open and you lick your lips, watching your boyfriends cock leak precum.

“You want it?” He inches over to you and you look up at him as Seunghyun slides the condom on. Jiyong’s cock hits your lips a few times like he’s teasing you.

“Can you imagine if housekeeping came in? They’d see you and instantly see how you’re well you’re doing, taking both our cocks so well.” He praises and you close your eyes as the thought gives you a rush.

“Open.” He says and at the same time Seunghyun slams into you quickly, your mouth involuntarily opening from the pleasure it sends through you.

You choke out a moan before taking Jiyong’s cock into your mouth slowly bobbing your head as Seunghyun sets as steady pace. Jiyong can feel your moans and groans vibrate through him, the feeling magical and surreal.

You can feel Seunghyun’s fingers digging into your hips.

“Fuck you’re taking my cock so well, ah,” he hisses as he looks down, watching it disappear and reappear with every thrust.

“Such a good girl for us,” Jiyong praises with love and adoration in his eyes as he strokes your cheek.

“So, fucking good,” Seunghyun pants as his thrusts get quicker. Your muffled shriek comes out as you feel him hit and practically abuse your sweet spot, the pleasure becoming overwhelming in the best way possible.

You do your best to keep a good rhythm for Jiyong, but it’s no use. So instead, he has you sit still.

“Tap me if it’s too much,” he murmurs before rocking his own hips into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat, triggering a gag that’s muffled.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Seunghyun mumbles.

“Just watch how good she does” Jiyong says as his hips start slamming into you, his cock choking you slightly as he feels your cheeks slide around his cock. He throws his head back, his orgasm approaching swiftly. It's hot, sticky, sweet and salty mixed together.

Jiyong.

“You’re doing so damn good. Taking it like a pro,” your pussy clenches around Seunghyun at Jiyong’s breathless words.

“Fucking hell, keep doing that,” he pants. Jiyong smirks knowing how his words of praise effect you.

“My pretty girl, all fucked out and still listening so well,” he praises.

“Do a good job and make him feel good,” your eyes close as, once again your walls clench.

Seunghyun slams into you with fury, Jiyong’s cock falling out of your mouth as your head drops, fingers grasping the sheets beneath you as another orgasm rips through you.

“Ah, ah, fuck,” Seunghyun chokes out as he fills the condom with his load. He pulls out of you, taking off the condom and tying it up. He takes a moment to catch his breath.

“One more baby girl, one more,” he kisses your lips sweetly, then your forehead before he takes Seunghyun’s place. Jiyong rolls on his own condom, swiftly filling you back up. The over stimulation causing your body to tremble.

“Give me a second,” you pant as you feel him leave kisses on your shoulder blade.

“You’re doing so good, such a good girl for us,” he whispers and you take a deep breath. Seunghyun watches intently.

Jiyong slowly starts to move, his hips easy and unrushed, both of you moaning as your walls immediately begin to close around him at the full feeling.

You look over at Seunghyun who looks totally fucked out.

“Come here,” you beckon him over, instantly putting his cock in your mouth. He hisses as your tongue swirls over his head, you tongue flat against his slit.

“Ah,” his hips jerk, forcing your nose to his pelvic bone.

“Mm, fuck. Doing so good,” Jiyong grunts as his hand reaches around to rub your clit. You whimper against Seunghyun’s cock that’s all ready twitching and you’re close to your own orgasm once again.

“Fuck just a little more, come on you can do it.” He starts slamming his hips into you brutally, skin slapping skin fills the otherwise quiet room. Seunghyun matches his speed and as if a giant wave hits, the three of you explode at the same time.

Jiyong into the condom.

You all over his cock.

Seunghyun down your throat.

The two boys pull out of you at the same time, both flopping on the bed. You fall on your side, facing Seunghyun as Jiyong crawls in behind you, peppering your shoulder with kisses and love bites.

“That was amazing, y/n,” Seunghyun compliments.

“I told you she’s great,” Jiyong says proudly making you hide your face in Seunghyun’s neck. When you go to stand to get in the shower, Seunghyun practically catches you from your wobbly legs. He smiles pridefully at you.

“You ok?” You swat his chest playfully.

You nod sheepishly. The boys exchange a smirk.

The shower is large enough for the three of you and warm, the three of you step in there together, mainly so you don’t fall. Seunghyun washes your back for you while Jiyong works on your front, lathering the soap. Seunghyun washes over the curve of your ass, giving it a small squeeze.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Jiyong asks as he rubs the loofa over your stomach.

“Mhm,” you say still in a slight daze. One that makes Jiyong chuckle and his heart swell.

“Is it something you think we need to do again?” Seunghyun whispers in your ear. You crane your neck to look up at him and nod.

“Mhm,” you bring his neck down for a sweet kiss.

“Thank you,” you smile lazily at him as Jiyong washes the front of your legs. Once he’s back on his feet, you kiss him.

“Thank you,” you smile letting your foreheads rest together again. The three of you alternate washing duties. After your shower, you put on one of Jiyong’s shirts and a fresh pair of panties and cuddle up to both of them, falling asleep in between them.

“She’s so pretty when she sleeps,” Seunghyun compliments quietly. Jiyong nods, looking down at you with pride.

“You want wake her in the morning?” Seunghyun smirks and Jiyong nods, knowing exactly what his friend is talking about.

-

The next morning, your stir awake to a tongue lapping little circles on your bud, Seunghyun smiles down at you as your face is twisted in pleasure and still a little sleep. You can’t help but writhe beside him as Jiyong’s tongue claims your heat.

“Good morning, princess,” Seunghyun’s morning voice says in your ear. You shutter at how deep and sexy it sounds. A whimper escapes you and before you can protest, Seunghyun’s lips are attaching to your neck, biting down on it causing a small mark.

“God you’re so sexy in the morning,” Seunghyun rasps. You kiss his lips passionately as your hand pushes Jiyong further into you. Your foreheads rest together as you cum, your breaths short and labored.

Jiyong climbs up, flipping the blankets off of his head with a wide gummy grin.

“Morning, Jagiya,” he smiles as he practically lays on top of you to kiss you. You hum into it, not ready to leave the bed.

“Can’t we stay here all day,” you slightly pout.

“We have to leave the room, babe.” Seunghyun says with a kiss to your forehead before getting up.

Downstairs you meet Daesung and Taeyang for breakfast. They’re at the table when the three of you walk in. Both of them wearing knowing smirks.

“What?” you ask, a faint blush painted onto your cheeks.

“Did you guys sleep ok last night?” Daesung asks with a grin wider than normal.

“Slept fine,” you shrug.

“Sounded like it,” Taeyang says before the two fall into roars of laughter. You blush and hide your face in Jiyong’s neck.

“Hey, don’t be jealous we got her and you didn’t.” Jiyong teases.

“Wait, what do you mean we?” Now all of you are blushing a shade of pink as you sit down to have breakfast.

Tags: @breakmeoff (Thank you for the idea babe!)

*Please do not repost or copy my work*

Love notes, comments and requests are appreciated!

[skzstarl0ver]

𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽~

Hyunjin x reader / Idol x Backup dancer / dom!Hyunjin / smut

**involves!!** tension, orgasm, dance practice, grinding, mirror sex, filling up, dirty talk, cursing, smut with feels, raw sex, strong language, cursing, rough, SMUT

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

Hyunjin’s breath is shallow across from you, strands of hair sticking to his flushed cheeks. The choreo is intense—hips grinding, bodies pressed too close for “just practice.” Every lift, every grip, every stare lingers too long.

He’s watching you again. Not just your moves. You.

“Again,” he says, voice low, lips parted like he’s just come out of a dream. He doesn’t look away. “Let’s run the second chorus.”

You nod. Pretend like your heart isn’t trying to break free from your ribs.

The music starts. Heat coils in your gut as you lock eyes in the mirror. He’s behind you, chest against your back, hands splayed over your hips as the choreo dictates. But his fingers twitch—grip tightening. Improvised. His breath brushes your ear.

“You’re getting better,” he murmurs.

“Practice makes perfect,” you manage, though your voice wavers. He chuckles, low and dark, and you swear it vibrates through your spine.

AFTER HOURS

The others are gone. The lights are dimmed. The only sound now is your shared breath and the soft scuff of sneakers on the floor. You stretch, pretending not to notice Hyunjin still watching you from across the studio, water bottle in hand, shirt damp with sweat.

“You’re staying late again?” he asks, approaching.

You shrug. “Wanted to clean up the footwork on that last eight-count.”

He steps closer. “I can help.”

Too close now. His gaze flicks to your lips, then to your collarbone where your tank has slipped. You don’t move.

“Or,” he says slowly, voice dipped in something dangerous, “we could run the whole thing… no counts. Just… feel it.”

You nod, heart in your throat.

The music swells. This time, you let yourself fall into it. There’s no routine now—only instinct. Your bodies move in sync, heat to heat. His hand slides down your side as your hips roll into his. His mouth is at your neck. The mirror reflects every breathless moment—every flicker of hunger in his eyes.

At the final beat, he doesn’t let go.

You turn to face him. Neither of you speak.

He leans in. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

When his lips finally crash into yours, it’s all teeth and tongue and need. He backs you against the mirror, hands on your ass, lifting you like you weigh nothing. Your legs wrap around him on instinct.

“Been wanting this since the first practice,” he growls.

Your nails rake down his back as his hips grind into yours. His hardness is undeniable, pressing right where you need him.

“Take it off,” you whisper, tugging at his shirt. He obeys, and your top follows. Skin against skin, sweat-slick and desperate.

He turns you around, hands gripping your waist as he bends you forward just enough to see everything in the mirror. The glint in his eyes—feral. He kisses down your spine, slow, reverent.

"Look how perfect you are," Hyunjin breathes, voice dark and reverent as his eyes drink you in through the mirror.

Your hands pressed against the cool glass, a strong contrast to the fever in your skin. His hands are firm on your hips, thumbs stroking soft circles like he's calming a storm he started. His cock throbs against your folds, teasing—but not giving in just yet.

“Say it,” he whispers, leaning in so his lips brush your ear. “Say you want this.”

You whimper, voice catching. “I want it, Hyunjin. I want you.”

That’s all it takes.

He slides in, slow, deliberate—inch by inch. The stretch is maddening. He’s big, and you’re already soaked, but he moves like he wants to feel every second of it. Your eyes flutter shut, a moan slipping from your lips as he bottoms out.

“No,” he growls, hand tangling in your hair, tugging your head up to face the mirror. “Eyes open. Watch me ruin you.”

You do.

You watch as his hips pull back, the head of his cock just barely inside you, before slamming forward again, sharp enough to make your knees buckle. He catches you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other sliding up your chest to palm your breast through your bra, fingers teasing your nipple until it's pebbling under the lace.

"You love this, don’t you?" he pants, fucking into you with deep, rhythmic thrusts that make your ass bounce against his hips. “Being bent over like this—put on display for me. So needy.”

You’re moaning now—filthy, desperate. “Yes, fuck, Hyunjin—don’t stop.”

He slaps your ass, the crack echoing in the studio. You gasp, then moan louder. The sting mixes with the heat pooling in your belly.

"That's it. Be loud for me, baby."

He shifts the angle, fucking up into that spot that makes your toes curl, and suddenly your entire body tenses. He feels it—smirks against your shoulder as he kisses a mark into your skin.

“You gonna come already?” he taunts. “You that cockdrunk for me?”

You nod frantically, tears brimming as your legs tremble. “I—I can’t hold it—”

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, hand slipping between your legs again, fingers flicking your clit in tight, ruthless circles. “Come all over my cock, baby. Let them all hear what I do to you.”

You fall apart.

Your body jerks, waves of pleasure ripping through you as your vision goes white and your knees give out. He holds you there, fucked-out and gasping, while he fucks you through your orgasm, never once slowing down.

Then he’s pulling out suddenly, flipping you to face him, hoisting you up by your thighs with that dancer strength. You wrap around him like it’s second nature, nails clawing at his back as he slams back inside you, fucking you against the mirror now, eye to eye.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up,” he groans, sweat dripping from his temple as his thrusts grow erratic. “You want that, baby? Want me to come in you?”

You moan like it’s the only word you know. “Yes—please, fill me up, I want it—”

With a deep, broken moan, he buries himself inside you one last time, hips jerking as he spills into you, hot and thick. You feel every pulse of it, every twitch as he holds you tight, panting into your neck like he’s never come that hard in his life.

You’re both trembling, stuck between overstimulated and insatiable, but he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he kisses you—soft, almost tender.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Practice really does make perfect.”

You giggle breathlessly, still impaled on his cock. “So what now? More practice?”

He smirks, that devilish glint back in his eye.

“Oh, baby. We’re just getting started.”

[casssmalefantasy]

team usa: the series — paige bueckers x oc!

vii. gold looks good on you—final games. gold medals. everything on the line—including your heart.

s: ivy and paige’s final game with team usa brings everything full circle — the pressure, the payoff, and the person they’ve fallen for. what comes next?

w: language, sports-related tension, fluff, kissing, feelings, soft confessions, long-distance talk, celebration

word count: 6.7K (yeah it’s a long one)

last part | this is the final chapter

part six: “gold look good on you”

paige’s pov

i’ve never been more locked in.

last usa game. gold medal on the line. everybody knows it. feels like i’ve waited my whole life for this moment—and at the same time, i can’t stop thinking about ivy.

she’s across the court during warmups, headphones in, focused, lacing her shoes like it’s just another game. but it’s not. we both know it.

this team. this summer. this version of us — it changed everything.

coach calls us in and the nerves start crawling up my spine. i bounce on my toes, look over at ivy. she meets my eyes and smile, real soft. like she already knows we’ve got this.

ivy’s pov

i’ve never felt pressure like this before.

my last game with team usa. last shot at gold. last summer moment before everything changes again. and i can feel it—deep in my chest.

the gym is loud. everything echoes. sneakers. whistles. my heartbeat.

and then i see her.

paige.

standing with her hand over her heart during the anthem, eyes closed, jaw tight, jersey clinging to her frame. her biceps flex a little when she shifts, and i’m suddenly warm all over. i shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, but…

too late.

—

"we’re down six. you know what to do," coach says, pointing to the whiteboard. "we run motion until ivy curls around the screen. if she’s open, take the three. if not, paige, you drive baseline. look for the dump off."

i nod. breath heavy. "got it."

paige glances at me as everyone breaks.

"you good?" she asks.

"yeah," i lie.

my heart’s beating too fast. the pressure’s all over my skin.

—

i’m winded. coach is yelling. my knees burn, but then paige grabs a steal, sprints full court, and lays it in

and fucking one.

"let’s fucking go!" she yells, pounding her chest.

i catch yourself smiling.

i hit a three next possession. then drive and dish to caitlin. then steal the inbound. the crowd’s insane. it’s loud. overwhelming. and perfect.

me and paige lock eyes after a timeout. she jogs past me, slaps my hand, grinning. “told you we’d turn it up.”

"you always wait until it’s dramatic," i mutter, breathless.

"i like the spotlight," she winks.

—

coach calls another timeout. the final one.

"alright. we win it here," coach says, eyes darting around the huddle. “ball goes to paige. ivy sets the back screen, pops to the wing. you’ll be open ivy. don’t hesitate."

"i won’t," i promise, chest tight.

hands in the middle.

"usa on three. one, two—"

"usa!" everyone shouts.

i take my spot.

paige sees me. the pass is perfect. i plant, step back, release—

swish.

the sound of the buzzer.

gold.

before i knew it i was sprinting across the court. screaming. someone tackles me in a hug. i think it’s caitlin. i’m not sure.

confetti rains. fake but perfect. sweat on my neck. medal in my hand.

i turn—and there she is.

paige.

medal swinging. crying. laughing. hugging azzi, then she spots me .

i collide into her.

"you did it," she whispers.

"we did it," she breathes, voice wrecked. her arms are around me. tighter than before.

"you were unreal today," she murmurs into my ear.

"you too."

"you always are."

✦ ✦ ✦

string lights. empty water bottles. medals still around our necks. my legs stretched across paige’s lap.

i hear the team still partying downstairs, music echoing faintly through the concrete. someone yelled "usa baby!" five minutes ago. probably lucy.

but here? it’s quiet.

paige’s fingers trace my hand.

"so," she says. “gold medal and all. what now?”

i laugh. "retire on top?"

she turns, gaze soft and slow. "nah. i got one more thing i wanna win."

i raise a brow. "yeah? what’s that?"

she swallows.

"you."

my chest stutters.

"i mean—" she rushes, stumbling. "if you want. i know this summer’s been…a lot. but i’ve never felt something like this with someone. and i don’t wanna leave without knowing if—"

"yes," i say, interrupting. already smiling.

"yeah?" her eyes light.

"yeah. of course."

she leans in. her lips brush mine. soft and sure.

this kiss feels different.

not unsure. not maybe.

just yes

—

we’re downstairs again. someone brought ice cream from the hotel dining. a bunch of us are in pajamas now, slouched in chairs or sitting on the floor.

caitlin’s wearing her medal like a tiara. azzi’s showing everyone a slow-mo replay of the final shot. someone’s crying happy tears.

"speech!" reese yells, banging a spoon on the table.

coach stands up, laughing. "alright, alright. first of all—i’m proud of every single one of you. this team fought for everything. you earned that gold.”

she looks around. “and this isn’t just about basketball. it’s about the work. the friendship. the way you showed up for each other. that’s what i’ll remember most.”

everyone claps.

i glance at paige beside me. she’s already looking at me.

we both smile.

paige’s pov

i glance over at ivy just as she turns to me, and in that second—the noise fades.

all i see is her.

ivy.

lit up by gold light and a gold medal. hair messy from the game. hoodie on over her shirt, that really was mine. eyes warm, soft, steady on mine.

and i think about everything that got us here.

the miscommunication, the almost kisses, the fights, the makeups, the weight of “what are we”, the ache of wanting her even when i wasn’t sure i was allowed to.

and now — she’s mines.

i smile before i even realize it.

because i’ve fallen.

hard.

the kind of fall that feels like flying.

"ugh, god, you’re so gone," azzi mutters beside me, nudging my shoulder.

i blink, startled out of it. "huh?"

"don’t ‘huh’ me," she grins, smug. "you’re looking at ivy like she hung the moon and then hit the game-winner with it."

i laughed under my breath, cheeks burning.

"shut up," i mumble, trying to hide my smile.

"nah. i called it. from the start," azzi says, proud. "and now you’re all in love and shit. finally. and guess what?"

“what?" i sighed, half-expecting chaos.

"now she has to deal with you, too," azzi smirks, leaning back in her chair. “thank god. i’m free.”

i roll your eyes, still smiling.

ivy glances over at me again, this time tilting her head with a quiet curiosity—like she’s wondering what you’re laughing at.

i just shake my head.

"nothing," i mouthed.

✦ ✦ ✦

ivy’s pov

in our shared hotel room. medals still on the nightstand. i’m half under the blanket, laying on my side, facing paige.

"you know," she whispers, "you make me wanna believe in timing."

"yeah?" i breathe.

"yeah. like maybe this wasn’t random. maybe we were supposed to meet like this. here. now."

my throat tightens. “me too,” i say, barely there.

her hand finds mines under the covers.

"we’ll figure it out," she says, voice like a promise.

and i believe her.

because she’s mine.

and i’m hers.

gold looks good on her.

but love? love looks better

author’s note: can’t believe my series is over omg. this took so long and i hope yall enjoyed it <3

[jjaehyunzs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ priest’s son!mark x reader

you yawned and looked around, desperate for something, anything, to break the dullness of the mass. everyone else sat stiffly, eyes glued to the altar.

everyone except mark lee, the priest’s son.

he was staring. not at your face, but at your bare legs. you shifted slightly, parting them just enough to tempt him, pretending to adjust your dress.

you caught the way his eyes darkened, how his mouth parted slightly in surprise. you nearly laughed. still, he didn’t look away, not until his gaze slowly dragged up the figure of your body and his eyes finally clashed with yours, then he turned his head so fast it was almost comical.

you stood up, murmuring an excuse about going to the bathroom, flashing him a knowing smirk before slipping away. you didn’t have to look back to know he was following. you slipped inside the priest’s office and leaned casually against the desk, waiting. when he appeared in the doorway, looking unsure, you smiled sweetly.

“so you liked the view?”

mark opened his mouth, trying to come up with an excuse but only a helpless stutter came out. adorable.

“don’t be shy” you crooned, spreading your legs again, your dress bunching dangerously high on your thighs. you watched his gaze drop, his throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “sit down, mark,” you said, voice dropping lower. “unless, you’re in a rush to get back.”

he locked eyes with you and, after a moment, he obeyed, sinking almost robotically on the couch. you could see the tension tight in his frame, the way his hands fisted uselessly on his knees.

“i didn’t expect you to be so obvious” you teased.

“i- i wasn’t—” he tried to protest, but you were already crossing the space between you. you climbed onto his lap, straddling him with a slow, deliberate grind of your hips. his breath hitched audibly as he grabbed the edge of the couch like he might fall off.

your mouth found his neck, warm and frantic against his flushed skin. you kissed, licked, and bit, just enough to make him shudder beneath you.

he whimpered, hips jerking up instinctively against yours. the growing pressure in his pants giving him away faster than his mind could catch up. he tried to resist, to remember where he was, who he was supposed to be.

“this is wrong…” he rasped, voice breaking as you pressed harder into him. his hands betrayed him too, clutching at your waist, pulling you closer.

“then why,” you whispered against his throat, “does it feel so fucking good?” you let your teeth scrape gently over his pulse. your hips rolled against his again, slower this time, as his head tipped back against the couch, exposing more of his throat to you, a silent invitation.

“yn… we shouldn’t, i—” he tried again, but you tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze. your smirk deepened as you saw the raw need in his eyes.

you leaned in closer, your voice a purr against his ear. “do you really want me to stop?” you asked, tongue flicking over his earlobe.

he choked on a breath. for a second he hesitated. then, barely audible, he whispered, “no.”

you smiled wickedly as your lips found his, it was desperate, messy, tongue against tongue. fueled by weeks, maybe months, of repressed desire he didn’t even know he had.

his hands slid up from your waist to your thighs, trembling and hesitant. when his fingertips brushed under the hem of your dress, bunching it around your waist, you smiled against his lips, rewarding him with a slow grind that made him curse under his breath.

he gasped, forehead pressing against yours, eyes squeezed shut. you could feel how hard he was against you, how badly he wanted this, wanted you.

“you can touch me, mark” you whispered, breath hot against his lips. “you already sinned just by thinking about it.”

with a broken sound, he grabbed your hips and thrust up against you, grinding desperately into your heat. you gasped, delighted, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking your hips back against his with slow, filthy rhythm. the last slivers of guilt breaking apart with every hump.

mark lee, the priest’s son, was now completely lost under you, chasing pleasure he was never meant to taste, and he couldn’t get enough.

his hands roamed up your thighs, gripping your ass as he ground you harder against his aching cock. each movement of your hips drew shameless noises from him, each kiss left him breathless and begging without words.

it was reckless, desperate, forbidden.

you were both panting now, bodies flushed against each other. his hardness straining against the fabric of his dress pants, begging for friction.

“please” he rasped against your lips, his voice hoarse.

you leaned back just slightly, enough to slip your hand between your bodies, palming him over the fabric of his pants. he bucked into your touch with a guttural groan, forehead falling to your shoulder as his body trembled.

“you’re so hard for me, mark” you whispered, voice dripping with dark amusement.

you lifted your hips and, with practiced ease, unbuttoned his pants. he let out a desperate, broken moan when your hand brushed over him.

“fuck, yn” he whispered, voice wrecked.

smiling wickedly, you tugged his pants down just enough to free him. his cock sprang, swollen, leaking at the tip. twitching against your hand. he groaned, hips jerking up into your fist.

then mark watched with wide, desperate eyes as you pushed your panties to the side. when the head of his cock brushed against your folds, both of you shuddered.

you guided him to your entrance, slick, ready. and slowly, you sank down onto him. a strangled moan ripping from his chest, the sound shooting straight to your core.

he filled you so perfectly, the stretch making you shudder, and you both froze for a second, just feeling it.

“shit—” he whimpered, hands flying to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

before you started moving, rolling your hips in slow, grinding circles, letting him feel every inch of you.

“oh my god” he breathed, voice cracking. clenching his jaw, trying so hard not to lose it immediately.

you laughed softly against his neck. “wrong place to say that, mark” you teased, rolling your hips experimentally, making him choke on a moan.

you gasped when mark’s hands finally slid higher, grabbing handfuls of your ass and grinding you down harder onto him. with a broken, desperate cry, he slammed his hips up into you, finally losing the last bit of control he had left.

you met him thrust for thrust, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing obscenely in the quiet, sacred office. the walls seemed to close in around you, and the distant sound of the mass beyond the door only made everything feel more wrong. and so much hotter.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging his head back so he had to look at you. his eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed with pure want.

“you like having me like this?” you whispered, your voice dripping with sin. “fucking the priest’s son… inside his office?”

he let out a raw, broken noise, hips bucking up into you uncontrollably. driving himself deeper into you.

“answer me, mark” you demanded.

“yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked and desperate “fuck, yes—”

you laughed softly against his skin, licking the sweat from his neck, feeling his pulse hammer under your tongue. you started moving in earnest, riding him with slow, relentless rhythm, your walls clenching around him, dragging the filthiest sounds from his lips.

he was close, you could feel it in the way his cock throbbed inside you, the way his movements grew frantic, desperate, chasing his release with reckless thrusts.

“cum for me, mark,” you whispered against his lips. “fill me up. show me how badly you want it.”

he let out a wrecked, strangled moan, hips jerking up violently as he spilled inside you, clutching you so tightly it almost hurt. he groaned into your mouth.

you milked him through it, grinding slow and deep, letting him ride out every wave of overwhelming pleasure. mark buried his face in your neck, groaning your name like a prayer. like you were something holy, a cruel irony inside the priest’s office.

when he finally slumped back against the couch, completely spent and ruined, you stayed straddling him. you gripped his hair, guiding his mouth back to yours. the distant murmur of the mass beyond the door lingered, a stark reminder of where you were.

[divinees]

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 | distant!hyuck x heartbroken!reader

↳ wc: 940 words

synop: after a heated argument with your (ex) boyfriend that led to your break up, your cold and forever awkward bestfriend finds you at the beach, and tries his utmost best to make it up to you.

an: my first ever fic AHHH!! im pretty nervy about this and how it turned out and even though i checked, there’s probably some grammar mistakes that escaped me….ignore those plis…but i mean its all for fun and shits and giggles so who cares anyways ….enjoy i guess!! ^^

the light blue sky was filled will spread out clouds that blocked rays of sunlight to fall on the languid sea, waves rolling in slow and heavy. it was a relatively good day. sunshine spilling everywhere before all of this happened…

your now ex boyfriend broke up with you in a frenzy, in a heated argument where he admitted that he cheated on you and threw profanities left and right, a kind you would have never thought you’d hear from him, out of all people.

tears had already wet your face multiple times, and god were you tired. so tired of today already. but there was only one place you could possibly go to calm your racing thoughts before inevitably sinking into your mess of a bed, ridden with clothes and the rancid smell of him. the beach.

your car keys were probably still in the ignition, your phone half-buried into the damp sand, your blouse tied around your waist as your skin was exposed to the now chilly weather, left in only a black camisole. but who cared anyways? no one was at the beach in the middle of september, sat there all slumped with poorly wiped away mascara and a destroyed self-esteem.

no one but the one person you knew would find you sooner or later. the one person you can recognize just from his timid steps and the round shinchan keychain hitting against his car keys. the one person that now stands besides you, peering down at your seated figure, eyes scrambling at the thrown phone which would go off every 5 minutes with new texts from your friends, and your neighbors which had seen the full argument unfold before storming off here.

you knew he wouldn’t speak first. he never did. as much as donghyuck was your best friend, he would never change, and you just had to accept that. he had always been cold and distant in a way that drove you insane, but he still always succeeds to let you know he also has your back no matter what.

never once did he peep a word about your relationship. the only thing he did was comfort you silently when you went through another rough argument with your ex, leaving you to sniffle and sigh in the quietness of his apartment, one blanket thrown over the both of you as he would manspread and cross his legs in the most relaxed matter, allowing your head to hit his shoulder when the crying hit too hard on your body.

but that’s all there was. and sometimes it did infuriate you. to an unfathomable degree. in a time where you needed at least an “you’re ok”, he stood there. and guilt enveloped your whole being when you thought like this. you had known him since forever. it was too late to change now. so with the unfleeting thought that he would simply sit in your presence, you didn’t even bother to look up at him.

“you have goosebumps.” he states with an awkward tone, now joining you on the cold sand. another notification hits, and he eyes it again before reaching over to turn it off and shaking all the sand out of the charging port. your eyes stay unmoving from the sea, expression unreadable.

“i know.” the wind picks up that hits your unclothed skin again, making the man next to you wince internally. in a swift movement, he reaches around your waist, catching you off guard as you finally look him in the eye, feeling your blouse slip off as his act now forces both of you into close proximity. feeling him fumble with your blouse, he tries his utmost best to keep eye contact.

“um, you should really wear this...” immediately as the blouse comes free, he backs away, scratching the back of his head as he diverts his eyesight to anywhere but you. the last thing he needed was you in his peripheral after that. he could feel you burning holes on the side of his face, before he finally speaks again.

“i heard about the…argument.” his head is now bowed, sitting criss cross on the sand as he picks on his sleeve or does really anything to escape your fiery gaze. “i really don’t want a recap, hyuck.” his eyes slightly widen as he hears your raspy voice from all the crying before returning back to his still expression.

“i just wanted to give you this. just incase.” in the sand rests a purple crystal, or also what science would call an amethyst. in a world of many beliefs, you had always chosen to settle yourself into these fine crystals and gems, knowing all their meanings and having a massive collection of them. but potent warmth spreads against your chest as you figured that donghyuck had done research to get you a crystal that brought in calming energy and helped relieve emotional pain, just in time after your breakup.

although you had as many amethyst as stars in the sky, you took this in your palm with such frailty, donghyuck thought the crystal was defected. “you probably know what it means…” he tries his best to fill in the silence, clearly too much out of his comfort zone to realize how much you treasured it. “it’s beautiful, hyuck.” a big smile spreads against your mascara smeared face, another breeze hitting both of you as thin strands of hair blew into your vision, his own rising and meeting your eyes with much more comfort.

and you swear you could see a subtle smile on his once stoic face.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I like all of these, I just don't think that canon has the setup or commitment to make them work. I'll just run down the list and give my thoughts to show what I mean.

Timing- Cat Noir doesn't just fight the akuma he often *keeps it busy* keeping the fight close enough that the akuma doesn't break off and leave the area while Ladybug takes 10-15 minutes to wander around Paris picking up spare heroes or items she needs. A Lady Noire who goes too hard makes the akuma run and now has to try and follow/keep up and steer it back to where Mr. Bug last saw her.

The only time Ladybug has been shown to not really appreciate this is when it comes to the temp heroes. While I hate Ladybug wandering off to grab the temp heroes, canon loves having her do that, so letting Marinette learn that it's hard only to not do anything to fix it makes her lesson have the same issue as Adrien's lesson. If they learn something here, but then go right back to the same behavior in subsequent episodes, then the lesson either becomes pointless or serves to make the characters look worse than they already did!

If the writers used this to finally have Fu start doing the hand offs or something, then it would work, but that would require canon to see this as a problem and it really doesn't because Marinette must do everything for some reason. Functional teams simply aren't allowed in this team show even if it leads to utterly absurd behavior.

Morale- You might and she might cringe at CN's antics and seemingly cavalier attitude, but he is a balance to her catastrophizing. We've seen more than once how he picks her up, even right out of the gate at their first meeting. Have the roles swapped, have *him* on the ropes mentally/emotionally due the pressure of her role and have *her* have to pick him up ...quite unlike what she actually does in Reflekdoll. Have her inability to keep things in perspective send them both into a brief spiral that *he* has to pull them back out of.

This one has some potential, it's just undermined by the fact that Chat Noir generally only gets to be her balance in the two-part season finales. I can't think of an "us against the word" moment from the main show even though those moments should be a constant theme. There are some good moments especially in season one where we get things like the Stormy Weather fight and them bonding in Gamer, but even in season one Chat Noir was causing problems by not taking akuma fights seriously enough:

(Dark Cupid attempts to shoot his arrows at Ladybug who dodges them with her yo-yo. She soon falls catching herself on a roof gutter with her yo-yo.) Cat Noir: Falling for me already, my lady? (pulls Ladybug down next to him) I need to talk to you. Ladybug: It’s gotta wait. Dark Cupi- Cat Noir: (hushes her) I swore to myself that I'd tell you as soon as I saw you. Ladybug, I-I... Look out! (Cat Noir spins around to shield Ladybug, and is struck by one of Dark Cupid's arrows.)

For the attitude lesson to really hit home, he needs to be allowed to shine more often and support Ladybug more regularly so that it feels like she really is taking him for granted. As is, his writing is painfully hit or miss in this area, undermining the lesson.

I still think this could have somewhat worked, though. It wouldn't feel as strong as I would have liked, but it's got enough canon backing to feel reasonable since those "you and me against the world" moments stand out in a lot of people's minds.

Trust- 'Wait here I have a plan!' is something Cat Noir has to deal with a lot. Ladybug's plans are explained last minute if ever. Marinette would struggle having to trust Mr. Bug while he is enacting a plan. The need to know and have input would be killing her. She can learn how hard and rare the level of trust he has for her is.

Once again, I love the idea, I just don't feel like it works in canon. One of the show's writing rules is that "Marinette and Adrien must always have a secret between them" and those secrets are just getting more and more uncomfortable as time goes on. Having Marinette learn a lesson about how powerful Chat Noir's trust is only to follow it up with Alya becoming her main confidant in the next season just doesn't work for me. I'd only go this route if you were actually going to let Ladybug and Chat Noir be each other's main source of strength and support.

Without that backing, this is just another one that hits the Adrien issue of the lesson seeming to have no long-lasting benefits though admittedly those problems do take a while to really show up so how much that bothers you is going to be pretty subjective. You could argue that it still works because a lot changes before the lesson gets undermined.

In summary, I love all of these, I was just looking for a fix that matched canon without giving Marinette the same issue of the lesson not sticking past this episode that Adrien has in canon. I don't think there really aren't any amazing fixes that meet that criteria since canon is such a dumpster fire, but for a one-off episode fix these are great!

I think it's interesting that the shows problem of "marinette can and will do everything herself unless we decide to f her over" is clear pretty early, but esp in Reflekdoll back in s3... hell it worsened the problem of "cn is kind of a useless teammate" by making him start the ep interfering w lb and spending the rest of it actively struggling.

From what I understand when most shows do some form of "role swap" where the characters were previously dissing each other's roles, both characters in the swap are shown to struggle.

Reflekdoll, on rewatch, doesn't do that. Except I can't really think of a clear way to make Marinette struggle with the role of CN unless it's in her struggling to step back and let others do the work, which she can't do in the context of that episode since she spends all of it making sure Adrien doesn't F Up.

So if we redid reflekdoll to be a swap with a struggle on both sides, how could it be done?

Trope Overview

The power-swap trope is all about learning to appreciate someone else's point of view. That can include the struggles they face, but that's not a requirement. One of the best power swap episodes out there is the Teen Titans episode Switched in which the characters Starfire and Raven switch bodies. This is a problem because Starfire's powers are all about feeling and embracing emotions while Raven's powers are all about controlling and repressing emotions as you can see from this clip that takes place right after the switch:

There is no failed fight to kick this episode off. The girls already fought well together. They don't need to understand each other's powers to be functional teammates. Understanding each other's powers just lets them be better friends and lets the audience get a deeper understanding of the two characters which is exactly what this trope is supposed to do.

Miraculous

Unlike Teen Titans, Miraculous failed the role-switch trope assignment. Adrien kind of learns a lesson in Reflekdoll, but it doesn't change his behavior in other episodes so it's hard to say that this moment of awareness did anything useful for his character. There's also the problem that Marinette learns nothing as we can see here:

Mister Bug: (looks around, trying to figure out how to use his Lucky Charm) Okay, I admit it. It's not easy being a super Ladybug. Lady Noire: (keeping Reflekdoll occupied) And I admit that I like wearing your costume. It's a lot lighter on the shoulders. (They hide behind a chimney)

And here:

Mister Bug: Honestly, I understand why you never have any time to make jokes, m'lady. Lady Noire: We both have our roles, huh Bugaboy? (They jump into separate alleyways.)

This highlights the exact issue anon brought up in their ask: if Adrien continues to joke around and be dismissive of how rough Ladybug has it, then what was the point of all this? if Marinette has nothing to learn, then does Chat Noir even matter? And is there a way to fix this episode to remove those issues?

To be frank, a true fix requires massive rewrites to the entire show because this episode is highlighting an actual issue with the writing. Chat Noir has not been given a clear or important role and he often doesn't take fights seriously enough as we once again see just five episodes later in Oblivio when Chat Noir's flirting and laidback attitude get them hit by the day's akuma:

Nadja:(from a helicopter) Looks like Ladybug and Cat Noir are struggling today. (Ladybug is rapidly spinning her yo-yo to deflect Oblivio's blasts while Cat Noir sits down casually.) Ladybug: And stop calling us a couple!

This means that there's not great option for what Ladybug needs to learn from Chat Noir. The best small change I can come up with is to have her struggle to fight Reflekdoll solo, helping her apricate her partner's fighting and distraction skills. That's no where near the level of lesson Adrien is learning since Ladybug already apricates those skills, but at least it's something.

You could also go the route of having her learn to have more fun, but that's not a great lesson for a superhero charged with defending the city. The fun lesson that would have actual depth is a body switch one where Marinette learns Chat Noir's identity and sees Adrien's life first hand, helping her understand why Chat Noir is so big on having fun. It wouldn't make his actions okay, but it could lead Marinette to better understand his needs to they take time to have fun out of battle. He becomes more serious in fights and she becomes more fun out of them. But then we have identity reveals and canon won't allow that so, while this is the best fix for canon as-is, it's not really one that canon could actually do.

While were on the topic, I'll note that there actually is a fix-it fic for Reflekdoll over on AO3 that you might enjoy. It stays pretty true to the episode, but does a better job of actually letting Adrien learn his lesson while also letting Marinette acknowledge her faults in the episode because she wasn't exactly perfect here. I don't think it solves the issues we were talking about above, but I do think this is probably the best canon could have done without major rewrites and/or an identity reveal.

In an ideal world where the show is fully rebooted and our leads both feel like vital parts of the team, this episode probably would have been something similar to the Teen Titans episode I discussed above. Ladybug and Chat Noir already canonically respect each other's skills, so it's hard to see the need for a lesson around that topic. It would be far more interesting to have an episode on Creation vs Destruction where we learn why Adrien is the best black cat and why Marinette is the best ladybug. An episode where Adrien can't figure out the lucky charm and where Marinette can't control cataclysms because it requires skills that she doesn't have like strong self control and focus. (No, Adrien doesn't really have those in canon, but they are the traits that should define a Destruction wielder. I will die on that hill.)

This new version of the episode wouldn't be about resolving a conflict so much as it would be about helping these two - and the audience - appreciate how they're the only ones who can do what they do.

[stwinsgstdrop]

You Ruined Yourself

Chapter 2.

The things he knows

Stan wasn’t angry. To say that would've been an understatement. Ford had seen Stan angry, but never to this degree, and specially not at him. Ford had hardly ever felt fear when he had his twin present; but at that moment, when he'd heen screaming obscenities and picking apart at every word Ford managed to say, he felt it. He shouldn’t be so shaken by it. He'd spent the whole week in fear, hearing his brother's anger shouldn’t have been his breaking point.

And yet, breaking he did indeed.

"I don't KNOW!" He's screamed back, shamefully, at his brother's question of what the hell he'd been thinking. At the bashing for meddling with ancient spells and beings of other dimensions. At his horror and anger and disgust. "I don't KNOW! I didn't know! I didn't, I swear!"

Stan had stared at him, undecipherable, but very clearly not sympathetic.

"I thought he was my friend- I swear, I didn’t mean-" Ford had fallen to his knees, trembling like a leaf, undoubtedly the strain of the past weeks catching up to him. He looked at Stan's eyes again, those judgemental, disappointed eyes, pleading. Stan had always been on his side, it was fitting he'd be his judge. The one to point the finger at his mistakes, his foolishness, his hubris. Like Icarus, Ford was falling for daring to meddle with gods. "He tricked me, Stanley. He told me he was a muse, and I- I never- It was supernatural! We've always wanted to see this sort of thing, that was my passion! He promised to help, and I- I couldn’t-"

Beyond that, Ford's memory was blurry at best. He'd cried harder, he thinks. Stan had held him, maybe. Telling him to stay calm, to stay awake. And he'd obeyed. He'd done his best. He remembered pleading with Stanley, and – as if he hadn’t embarassed himself enough – begged for him not to be mad at him, not to abandon him. Which went against the whole point of calling him there.

Ford cringed at the memory, and turned off the faucet. He needed to put on his clothes and go back to Stanley. Who was doing only God know what downstairs. He touched the fabric of the clothes and basked in the softness. It had been a while since he'd worn anything other than his coat and outing clothes. He hadn’t had the time to change.

Stan had scoured his cabin in hopes for clean clothes, only to come empty handed. He had complained and grumbled the whole time, but stopped when Ford apologized. Just told him to shut it and go get himself cleaned. These were Stanley's clothes. He'd brought clothes. He'd had expected to stay. Only now did Ford realize how things must've looked like from Stan's perspective.

He'd come hoping for reconciliation. Probably.

Ford didn’t know how he felt about that. Frankly, he didn’t know how he felt about anything. He felt empty, but strangely calm, like the shower had fogged up his feelings enough for his mind to clear up.

Stanley's clothes were soft against his skin. They were larger, too. His brother had always been larger than him. Probably because he ate like there was no tomorrow, but also because he had a lot of energy and was constantly moving. He'd focused a lot in getting bigger as a teenager too, to be strong and beat up whoever tried to mess with Ford.

It had always been like that. Even now, it seemed. Stanley had looked softly at him when he was crying. He refused to think about the moment further though, as he cringed at the slightest memory of how pathetic he must've looked.

When he finally got out of the bathroom, steam followed him to the living room. The house was warmer, and it smelled good. Stanley was cooking, surrounded with cans and packs Ford knew weren't his own. He'd also turned on the thermostat, somehow.

As he made his way to sit at the newly clean table of his kitchen with deliberate slow steps and fidgety hands, Ford felt like a child again. Like how he'd behave when he'd been a child and made a mess, trying his best not to be a nuisance to his father again. That or one of them would get the belt.

But Stanley wouldn’t hurt him physically, he thought. Would he? Maybe he would, if Ford pushed enough. They'd roughoused as kids, and sometimes fought too. That wouldn’t be a problem. But it also wasn’t the reason Ford was so shaken, and he knew it.

His twin turned off the stove, and served him some kind of stew that smelled amazing due to Ford's hunger, but that he could recognize wouldn’t have seemed nearly as good if he weren't so famined. He tried it and yep, the saltiness ended in a sweet-sour taste only canned food could provide. He remembered from his college days as a broke student.

Stanley sat down and deliberately threw Ford's journal on the table, staring directly at him. Ford flinched at the sound, and kept his eyes on the stew.

"Do ya have your marbles back?" He asked, letting his Jersey show so much Ford felt like no time had passed at all. He nodded. Stan hummed in response. "Good. Now tell me again what's goin' on with less snot and tears so I can actually understand."

Ford winced at the tone. Harsh, even for Stanley, but not unkind.

"I'm sorry about that. The lack of sleep has severely damaged my emotional faculties." Stanley raised an eyebrow and nodded for Ford to continue. "The demon I told you about... He tricked me, and... And I trusted him. Really trusted him. He told me our project would be finished quicker if we didn’t have to waste time during the night. I- He said he could take care of it."

"So you let him possess ya." Stan finished.

"Yes, basically." Ford said, and went back to his stew. He finished it in a few bites. "Whenever I sleep."

Stan didn’t look as mad as before. He stood up, served Ford more stew, and leaned on the counter, looking at his shoes. He had his thinking face. The one he often used whenever they were having tests and he couldn’t cheat his way out of it, or when they were playing riddles and codes.

"You don't know how long you've been awake, do ya?" He asked.

Ford thought for a few moments. He had been keeping score through cups of coffee, but then he fumbled it by drinking the whole kettle at one point when the exhaustion was almost winning over.

"...I stopped counting at day 3." He said and looked away, embarassed. He was feeling it. The pressure in his eyes, his slowing thoughts. Yes, he remembered. Staying dirty and in outing clothes had been a tactic to stay uncomfortable enough not to fall asleep in them, and hungry because being tired but hungry could keep him equally awake. But now he was wearing his brother's soft, soft clothes, and eating his second serving of stew, and it was catching up to him.

"Shit," mumbled Stan. "Is there anything else you can tell me about this... triangular dude?"

"His name is Bill."

"Oh, great. The entity's name is fucking William. Well, that's underwhelming." Ford almost laughed. Stan could still turn any situation into a funny one, that much hadn’t changed. Stan looked him with undecipherable eyes, and pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. It was blue, with a flower logo, but it looked professional.

Stan flickered through some pages and made a tsc sound with his mouth.

"Do you have chalk around here? Maybe a candle or somethin'?" He asked. Ford furrowed his brows, but got him what he asked. He had many candles, as Bill was prone to messing with the power in his house, and chalk for... well. He was still a scientist. He needed chalk to make equations in big boards. Stan didn’t ask any of it, and didn’t explain what he was going to do.

Ford obeyed when Stan told him to sit on the floor, because his twin seemed focused. He wondered what his brother was doing as Stan drew a circle around him, placing four candles opposite each other on the line of the circle. Something in his mind told him he should move. Lock himself in his lab and stay there forever. But that was probably the sleep talking.

"What... what're you doing?" He said, words slurring slightly due to the exhaustion. Stan didn’t stop whatever he was doing as he spoke.

"You said he gets ya when you sleep, right?" He asked, without waiting for an answer. "That's when he's got space. There ain't any space when you're awake in that big brain of yours."

"...What are you talking about?" Stan held his hand gently, and then swiftly made a cut on his index finger. Ford yelped. "What was that for?!"

"He can't ocupy that space if ya get a roomate. Means the empty's got somethin' to ward him off." Stan continued as if nothing weird was happening, as if he wasn’t writing symbols in blood on the floor. He cut his own hand and pressed against the symbol, letting the blood seep in. Ford felt the hairs of his neck rise in dread. What was Stan doing? "Luckily for us, I've got a few favors to call in. They're not too dangerous, and can't break a contract, so it's gonna be fine."

"Stan, what the hell are you doing? Why does this look like some kind of ritual?!" Ford asked, raising to his feet and immediatly swaying. Stan steadied him and smiled, relaxed, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Relax Sixer, 's nothin' I haven't done before. You'll survive. I'd advise you to shut your ears and hold your breath, the smell's weird if you're not used to it. Now, open your mouth." He didn’t wait for compliance before pushing some sort of seed into Ford's mouth, judging by the taste, and guiding Ford's hands to shut his ears. He took a few steps back, looked back at the notebook and nodded to himself. "Yeah, that'll do it."

Stan put a seed in his own mouth and bit on it, motioning for Ford to mimick him. Which he did, despite his raising fear. Was he hallucinating? Had he fallen asleep already and this was just a dream? Maybe Bill had already possessed him. It was the only explanation.

Only, Stan spit out the seed and suddently the power went out. The candles were wiped off, and the temperature dropped. Ford gasped and accidentally swallowed the seed, the bitter taste making him gag and cough.

He felt something rise from underneath, a huge, dark figure. Shapeless, but perfectly formed. He could feel it talking, but not understand its words – not with his hands on his ears. Stanley, in the middle of it, looked unfazed, even pleased with himself. He said something, and by the shape of his lips as he spoke, it seemed spanish. Why was Stanley speaking Spanish to an entity? A putrid stench filled the room, and he struggled to keep himself from heaving or gagging.

He felt the cut in his hand burn, and yelled, pulling his hands away from his ears to check. It was sealing itself back, but burning in the process. He screamed. In the back of his mind, he heard a name. He couldn't pronounce it, couldn’t comprehend it, but he could recognize it. It was his now, for however long it stayed.

" Gracias por dejarme quedarme, amigo. Mantendré las pesadillas alejadas. "

What the fuck?

And then it all went back. The lights came back on, the candles lit up again, and the sound silenced. Only the stench of dead plants and rust remained, slowly fading with the rest of that experience.

Ford looked at Stanley, who was examining him like he'd grown a seventh finger.

"What the hell did you just do?" He asked, half yelling, half rasping. He stepped out of the circle and fell, his body heavy and weak all of a sudden.

"Woah, there, Six. 'S alright, they're just feeding on your tiredness." Stan said.

"Who are 'They', Stanley? What did you DO?!"

"Just a temporary solution to our problem. You gotta sleep, I gotta do some stuff, they gotta rest somewhere. Everybody wins." He said, shrugging, and dragged Ford towards the couch. "I mean, you were dealing with a dream demon. A sleep eater is hardly the worst of your options."

"A Sleep- WhAT?" Ford was spiralling. How was this possible? Was he dreaming? This didn’t feel real. He could feel something in his mind. Something adjusting, moving, taking things, adding others "How did you know how to do that- why- why is it MOVING?" He screamed.

"Yeah, it does that. You're gonna be disoriented for a few hours." Stan replied, unbothered, batting Ford's hands away and tucking him into the couch. "Which won't be a problem, as you'll be sleeping."

"No, I- I can't-" Ford was about to say something, but started seeing doubles. Everything was heavy, even his tongue, his mouth, his eyelids. "W-wha's... goin' on..."

"Shh, just sleep, Sixer. Imma take care of things now." Stan soothed, soft, gentle. A contrast to his earlier outrage. "You can trust me."

"Trust... you..." Ford couldn’t keep hold of his counsciousness anymore.

Ahí lo tienes, listo. Descansa, te tengo cubierto.

And dark engulfed him.

<Prev. Chp. 2; Next.>

[jude457]

Sensitive Content Warning

Expanding a little on my ask, I have another Dead Dove: Do Not Eat WIP in the works that reimagines how the unmasking scene between Inho and Gihun could go.

After the rebellion, Inho finds himself trapped. The VIPs are furious, and they demand a price. They want to make an example of Gihun, break him in ways far worse than death. They want to degrade him, make him a symbol of their power. Inho can see what they plan to do, and it makes his stomach turn. The VIPs don’t just want to kill Gihun, they want to destroy him, strip him of every last ounce of dignity before he dies.

But Inho can’t let that happen. He can’t let Gihun be reduced to a toy for their twisted amusement, a puppet in their game. Inho knows he’s been the one holding the strings up until now, but this—this is different. In his desperation, Inho offers a twisted solution. Instead of letting the VIPs kill Gihun outright, he suggests keeping him alive—but not as a player. No, Gihun could be useful to the games in a new way. There’s value in him, more than just another expendable body. There’s more to Gihun than just being another casualty. Inho doesn’t care about the implications; all he cares about is keeping Gihun close, making sure he doesn’t vanish from his grasp.

The VIPs are intrigued by the idea. But, as always, nothing comes for free in their world. They listen, but their calculation is sharp. One of them leans forward, his voice laced with a cold amusement. The question comes, sharp and direct: “Are you willing to take his place, then?”

Inho’s heart lurches, and his breath catches in his throat. Inho knows that in this moment, the only way to keep Gihun alive is to give up everything. His body will be the cost, his submission the price. There’s no turning back now, no escaping the consequences. He agrees, without hesitation. His words come out hoarse through the modulator, but resolute: he will do anything to keep Gihun alive, even if it means surrendering everything.

The VIPs move quickly, with their usual cold efficiency. Inho feels their hands on him before he has a chance to react. The mask is ripped from his face, the sensation of its removal more painful than he expects. It’s not just the sudden exposure to the room, the stripping away of the identity he’s built. It’s the feeling of being completely unprotected—fragile in a way he never allows himself to be.

Being unmasked is unbearable, but it’s nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Gihun’s reaction. The confusion that flickers in his eyes, followed by the betrayal that comes crashing down, is more than Inho can take. He doesn’t even have time to explain, to justify, or to make Gihun understand the reasons behind his actions. It’s all too much—too late.

Inho’s heart sinks as the VIPs force him to his knees, pulling him further into the role they want him to play. They strip him of his dignity, piece by piece, pulling him out of the carefully crafted armor he’s hidden behind for so long. They make quick work of it, their hands unbuckling his belt and unfastening his clothing, and Inho can feel himself being exposed in every possible way. The chill of the air bites at his skin as they remove his final layer, forcing him into a raw, vulnerable state.

He can’t look at Gihun. He knows what lies in those eyes—the anger, the betrayal, the absolute destruction of the bond they once shared. But more than that, there’s another fear that roots him to the spot, making it impossible for him to face the man he has wronged. Inho is ashamed, not just because Gihun will never forgive him, but because of what Gihun will see if he looks into his eyes.

Inho doesn’t want Gihun to see him like this. Bent over, utterly exposed; ready to be taken like a dog in heat. For a brief moment, Inho considers closing his eyes, hoping that if he can shut out the world, the pain might ease. The silence in the room is deafening, and just when Inho thinks he might break under the pressure, one of the VIPs steps forward. Without hesitation, the man grabs a fistful of Inho’s hair, yanking his head up with brutal force.

“Look at him,” the VIP sneers, his grip tightening as Inho’s head is forced back. “Look into his eyes. You’ve made him suffer. You owe him this much.”

And Inho does. He has no choice.

Their eyes meet—locked in a moment so crushing it nearly stops his breath.

He expects rage. He expects disgust. He expects the look of someone who finally sees the monster behind the curtain. But instead, what he sees in Gihun’s eyes is something far more unbearable.

Pity.

It flickers there, through the confusion and devastation—so faint, so fragile, but unmistakably present. Inho can barely process it. Even now, after everything, Gihun looks at him not with hatred, but with something gentler. Something that reaches into the hollow parts of Inho he thought he’d sealed off long ago.

And that mercy—that goodness—cuts deeper than any blade.

Then the pain hits.

Blinding, unrelenting.

There was no warning, no time to brace, no effort to dull what was coming. Inho’s body lurches forward from the force of it, the violence of being used without care or consent, of being treated like an object. The agony is immediate, sharp, and it does not stop.

He tries to breathe through it, tries to steel himself, but there’s no space for composure now—only the sheer reality of what he’s enduring.

Inho is crying before he realizes it. Not just from the pain—which is consuming—but from what Gihun sees. What Gihun is forced to witness. And somehow, impossibly, Gihun is still watching. Still seeing him. Not the Frontman. Not the traitor. Just… Inho.

And that, more than anything, undoes him.

He doesn’t look away.

Neither does Gihun.

Somewhere behind him, another VIP shifts, the sound deliberate, cruelly anticipatory. Another round is coming. More pain. More humiliation.

Inho’s vision blurs. His body shakes. Something deep inside him fractures, maybe for good.

And still—Gihun is there.

Watching.

Seeing.

Forgiving?

Or maybe just enduring, in his own way.

Inho doesn’t know.

He just knows this isn’t the end.

Not yet.

But what’s waiting on the other side of this—if anything—is a question neither of them can answer.

Not now. Not like this.

[jeonslvz]

04: Altercations

Stealth Chief JeonJungKook X Unit Member F.Reader!

Starting as nothing more than a training dummy to earn points for your tea addiction, you ended up cornered — pushed, threatened, and dragged toward something darker and deeper inside Jeon. It hit you then: there’s only so much a person can endure before they finally break.

A/N: I should probably clarify sumn really quick, because you’ll see a few gaps or missing pieces in writing and time, all intentional by the way ! This series is focused on a FWB (friends-with-benefits) relationship between Jungkook and you, and the struggles that come with it. An extended info chapter or extra named “Bunny” will be a peek into Jungkook’s past. There will also be more glimpses into the past—or even alternative endings or situations of a chapter—whenever a corresponding chapter is released. Nobody asked, but I just wanted to make sure it was known.. Also longer chapters will be coming soon!

WC: 3.3K

Warnings: angst? Rough altercation, more bruising, Objectification, dollification, slight emotional distress from Jeon, slight gossip, Dubcon touches,

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“Weak points,” Jeon’s voice broke through the air, and for a split second, everything else seemed to fade. He paused, a deliberate step closer to you, his hands moving to tilt your head back with casual precision. His fingers were warm, the faint scent of soap lingering on his skin, and you couldn’t help but notice how it didn’t leave that dry, soapy residue like most would. His touch felt deliberate—too deliberate—and you fought the urge to tense.

“Right here,” he said, gently pressing two fingers against the side of your throat, drawing attention to the carotid artery. “This is where you’ll want to strike for a quick kill. Anything else, and you risk them staying alive longer than you’d want.”

His voice was calm, a kind of quiet authority as if he were explaining something routine. Yet, there was a weight to his words, an almost unnerving intimacy to his touch. His hand lingered a moment too long before pulling back.

“The throat’s your best bet,” he continued, his gaze steady, looking right into your eyes. “If you want them brain-dead fast, you cut off the oxygen. Anything below here won’t work.” His words sank in, but you could feel his eyes on you as if there was more unsaid. “Got it?”

You nodded stiffly, avoiding his gaze as he slowly stepped behind you, positioning himself just too close for comfort. You turned your head slightly to see what he was doing, but before you could fully process it, he was back, explaining another technique in his usual nonchalant manner.

“If you kick behind the kneecap, your opponent will fall. Unless they’re trained.” He drew his finger along your back, just below your shoulders, circling lightly. “A good spot to disable them. Hit here with enough force, and you’ll leave them breathless. Just enough to buy time for whatever comes next.”

His hands brushed lightly against your skin, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch, but he said nothing. He merely stepped back, giving you just enough space to think you had room to breathe.

“Now, if the target’s male,” Jeon began, voice lowering slightly, “you have to be strategic.” He stepped forward again, pressing your legs apart with a subtle tap of his foot. His movements were smooth, almost practiced, as he demonstrated how to control the body with one swift maneuver.

“You bring your knee between his legs like this.” His voice dropped an octave, smooth and deliberate as his body slid closer, his knee pressing against yours just enough to make you flinch. The sensation was uncomfortable but oddly thrilling, and you quickly reminded yourself that this was just part of the training. But the way he did it—the way his presence seemed to saturate the space—felt intentional, like he was testing boundaries.

“You want to apply pressure, all your weight on them. You strike here with enough force, and you’ll create instant panic. This is where you’d have an opening.” He was almost too close now, his leg pressing slightly harder against you as his chest brushed your back.

The warmth of his body invaded your personal space, and for a split second, you almost forgot where you were. It was as if his touch was so casual, so second nature, but with an underlying tension that felt like a silent challenge. The way his eyes flickered down to where his knee was positioned just between your thighs, then back up to meet yours, was enough to make your pulse quicken. He smiled, barely a shift of his lips, but you caught it.

Jeon pulled away, but the moment lingered. You could feel the heat radiating from him, like the quiet pressure of a storm rolling in. He shifted focus, now pointing to the eyes.

“Eyes are good for blinding, not much else.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but when he looked directly into your eyes, something flickered—something almost too dark, too intense. His gaze seemed to pierce through you, and for a second, you felt like he could see all your thoughts.

He stepped back, leaving you to face the others. The sudden coldness of the wind hit your skin, but it didn’t mask the heat of his presence still lingering in the air. “Behind the neck—this is a good spot for a knockout. If you need to land a precise blow, this will do it.”

You could hear the murmurs of understanding from the group, but your mind was somewhere else. The feel of his body against yours, the way he effortlessly positioned you, was never just about the techniques. It was him—sneaky, controlled, and always two steps ahead.

“If you’re up against a female opponent,” he continued, still studying you with that calculating expression, “target the shoulders, the arms, the elbows.” His finger traced the spots on your body, his closeness undeniable. The touch was brief but enough to send a jolt through you. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, a sharp contrast to the biting cold of the wind.

“And this,” he added, his voice low, “is a place to build tolerance.”

The wind cut through you, making your body shiver, and you couldn’t tell if it was the cold or something else. But before you could process it, Jeon was back at the mats, pulling one out with an ease that made you wonder how he managed to make even something so mundane look effortless.

“Now,” he said, his tone shifting again, “we’ll practice what to do if you find yourself in a compromising position.” He sank to the ground, lying flat on his back, looking up at you with that same easy smile. “Come on, sit up here.”

You hesitated for just a moment—was he putting himself in this vulnerable position, or was this another trick? But you couldn’t afford to waste time second-guessing. You moved to kneel next to him, and he patted his chest. “Pin my arms above my head,” he instructed smoothly, and without hesitation, you did.

As your body leaned forward, the proximity was almost overwhelming. His eyes flickered past you to the group, and you could see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He didn’t make a sound as your body pressed against his, but there was something in the air, a shift you couldn’t ignore.

“Now, there’s a reason I’ll never say to do this,” Jeon continued his voice barely above a whisper. Before you could process it, his body moved in a blur. One swift motion and you were flipped onto your back, out of breath. His eyes locked with yours, intense and unyielding. “You can easily be overpowered if the other person has enough strength,” he said, his voice even, but with an underlying note of satisfaction. He let go of your arms and sprang to his feet as if the entire thing had been a game.

A slight chuckle left him as he stood, looking down at you. “So, let’s practice the alligator turn, the bear hug—whatever you want to call it. It’s all about understanding your strength.”

He turned towards the pile of mats, nodding to you to help. “Help me with these, then you’re dismissed,” he ordered, dragging a mat with a single arm as though it weighed nothing. You had the sense that nothing in this training was ever as simple as it seemed—especially when it came to him.

Dismissed early. Actual free time for once.

You returned to your room, locked the door, and let out a sigh that tasted like quiet relief. A little time to yourself, finally. You cleaned up. Shaved. Changed into leisure wear. Then meant to take a quick nap before dinner—but woke up five hours later instead. Tea long gone cold on the nightstand. Mouth dry. Body stiff.

“What a mess,” you muttered, rubbing your face, staring at the room in mild disgust. In all fairness, you’d never had time to make this space feel like yours. It was just a box to collapse in. But now…

You moved with new purpose. Clothes got hung in the closet. Snacks and dried herbs from Jin went on the top shelf. Gym shoes, boots, and dorm shower slippers lined up neatly by the door.

“Wonder if I could get a night light or something,” you groaned, stretching your arms behind your head, “if it’s even legal here.”

You flopped onto the mattress again and stared at the ceiling. Training had been relentless—but it was fun in a twisted way. The unit was full of characters. Loud ones. Cocky ones. Dead-eyed ones.

And then there was Jeon.

The one you knew the most about, but still didn’t know at all.

From cafeteria whispers and mid-grade hallway talk, you’d pieced together that he was the first of eight ever placed in this program. Brought here as a teen. And that’s where his story ended—cut off like a file redacted in black ink.

Even your own name had been replaced with “low-level.” No identity. No history. Maybe that was the point. Don’t get attached when you’re expendable. Don’t become someone to mourn.

With a groan, you sat up and looked at the mirror across from your bed. “Time to eat again. Maybe I’ll hit the gym—feeling stiff,” you muttered, fixing your bedhead.

You tossed out the old tea, then slid on your shoes by the door. You snatched your ID card from the nightstand and headed out, only to find the elevator shut down—big-ass lettering announcing it was under repair.

Of course.

You sighed, eyes scanning for another way. Just as you turned toward the main stairwell, a door you hadn’t even noticed before creaked open.

A shorter man stepped out—long dark hair curtaining his face, fast fingers moving across a tablet.

“Min from. support systems.”

“ system check,” he said, already sitting on the stairs.

You blinked. “Oh, we have a tech and logistics unit?”

He didn’t look up. “You’re looking at the chief.”

“Oh—my bad, Chief Min. I’m new.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug. “I see you log in early to breakfast every morning. How’s the injury? Your name’s been floating around tech a lot lately.”

You were surprised. “Healing. I’d say.”

Min hummed, fingers dancing across his device. No further comment. Then, casually:

“Hey, if you’re heading to the mess, could you bring me back a plate? Can’t leave this scanner alone, not even for a second.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll grab something good.”

He gave an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

You headed down toward the cafeteria. A familiar low-level—you recognized him from the other day—nodded your way as he headed in. You returned it, balancing your tea carefully as the scent of something cheesy wafted through the hallway.

You grinned.

It was pizza day.

Rare. Special. You’d only experienced it twice so far, and each time had felt like a festival.

You grabbed two trays. Meat lover’s and cheese for Min. Veggie and cheese for yourself. Extra breadsticks—four total. Three for him, one for you. Because this was the good stuff. You loaded on marinara, snuck a few packets of garlic dip, then grabbed a cider for Min and ditched your usual tea in favor of an iced Americano.

When in doubt, tech-heads always drank Americanos.

You saw groups of others beginning to line up as you walked out. A few caught sight of your tray and their eyes lit up—some even jogged toward the line. You let out a small chuckle and made your way back.

Balancing the tray on your knee, you scanned your ID at the stairwell. Tricky, but you managed without spilling a thing.

“It’s pizza day!” you shouted upward. “I made sure to get a lot!”

You caught sight of black shoes tapping against the stairwell metal.

“Cool, thanks!” Min called back.

Climbing up to the third level, you finally reached him. “Mind if I eat here too? I don’t want my room smelling like garlic and cheese for three days.”

You handed him the tray and drink. He blinked.

“How’d you know I liked this?”

“Guessed.”

He dug in without hesitation.

“Extra bread too? Score. I usually come in late, miss all the warm food,” he muttered, face falling for a second.

“Well, I come early. If there’s something you want, just ask. I’ll make sure you get it.”

He gave you a small nod and turned back to his screen. Then, half-mumbled:

“Hm. Jeon usually logs in around now…”

You froze mid-bite.

That was… interesting.

You hadn’t even realized they tracked log-ins like that. Or that he did.

Which meant Jeon knew where and when to expect people. Maybe even you.

You chewed your pizza slowly, dipping the crust into garlic sauce.

Beside you, Min’s face had gone weirdly tight.

“Something wrong?” you asked.

“Classified,” he said quickly, but his fingers were tapping again. His posture stiff, guarded.

You didn’t press. Just kept eating, savoring every bite.

“Can I have some?” he asked, nodding toward your sauce.

You handed it over. Sharing here wasn’t weird—privacy barely existed. But before either of you could say anything else, the stairwell door above unlocked.

Jeon appeared—damp black hair clinging to his forehead, wearing black leisure wear. His shirt looked stuck to his back like he’d just left the gym or a shower. You and Min both looked up at him.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, eyes scanning your trays, “don’t tell me I missed pizza day.”

Was that… whining?

He whined.

He walked down casually, reaching right past you to grab a breadstick off your tray.

“Get your own!” you barked, jerking the tray back.

“If I take it, it’s mine,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his head like this was normal.

“Not how this works. When people saw my tray, they ran. Good luck finding food now.”

You reached for your cheese slice—he snatched it. Again.

“You mother—!”

He shoved a half-eaten breadstick in your mouth before you could finish.

Mouth full, stunned, you watched him walk off—smug and unbothered. Min offered you his pizza slice with a wince. You declined with a silent shake of your head, setting your tray down.

Then you ran after Jeon.

You launched the soggy breadstick at him, nailing the back of his head. He paused, slowly turned, smirked.

Still walking.

You shoved him in the back.

He stopped.

Straightened.

Turned.

His voice dropped. “Low-level making high-rank moves now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh no, what’s next? You gonna report me for assaulting a breadstick thief?”

But something shifted.

His face didn’t match his words. He looked… off.

“Don’t test me,” he warned, voice sharp now. “Push me again and see what happens.”

You held your ground.

“Or what? Big bad wolf comes out?”

He scoffed, stepping closer, dark eyes scanning you like a predator.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. “You’re messing with the Chief of Stealth. I’ve been trained to break bones, disappear bodies, and punish people—adoringly.”

That last word came like a hiss.

He shoved your cold pizza slice back into your mouth. “Your food’s shit anyway.”

Then turned to leave.

You didn’t think.

You followed, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved hard.

Wrong move.

He spun. Drove his elbow into your chest, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Then he grabbed your shirt, slammed you into the wall so hard your back bounced.

“Try that again, punk,” he growled, low and furious. “I fucking dare you.”

His face was different now. No arrogance. No teasing.

Just fury.

Then he pushed you—down.

You hit the floor with a hard, awkward thud. Pizza slipped from your mouth.

He walked off like it meant nothing.

Like you meant nothing.

Tears pricked before you could stop them. You scrambled to your feet and ran—past your tray, past Min, who looked up just as you passed.

He saw your face. He didn’t ask.

He logged you in manually with one hand, typing with speed and fury, muttering both your name and Jeon’s under his breath.

A curse.

A warning.

Maybe both.

You whispered a quiet, “Thanks,” to Yoongi for unlocking the door, even as tears forced their way past your lashes. What did you do to make him snap like that? To push you—knowing you were still healing? The shame, the sting, the ache in your bones—it all layered over itself. The more you thought, the more the guilt spun into something heavier. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you should’ve just stayed away. And now you would.

By the time you got down to Medbay, your body screamed with every step. You filed a Missing In Action slip—standard for when someone’s unfit to train or participate. You hadn’t wanted to use it, but Jeon made that decision for you. He knew his strength. You did too. But that push? That wasn’t strength. That was something else entirely.

Later, still sore and trying to pretend you weren’t, you made your way to the cafeteria. You only wanted ice, something cold to soothe the bruising. But as you stepped in, your heart froze.

He was there.

Jeon. Slouched low in his seat like someone had taken the wind out of him. His eyes weren’t on you—just locked on a single slice of pizza on a paper tray, untouched. Like he was trying to remember how to eat.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t even look directly at him. Just grabbed a tray and tried to keep your limbs from trembling.

“I can heat that up for you,” the lone kitchen helper offered. “Or… we have some stew left, if you want something warmer.”

You nodded, pointing to the stale breadstick. The culinary unit member going to back to grab a few bags. He then put packets of extra breadsticks and nudged a pack of dipping sauce onto the side. “They’ll keep awhile. You should eat something good,” he said softly. “Looks like you’ve had a rough day.”

You swallowed hard and nodded. “Ice, please. For a bruise.”

He didn’t ask questions, just fetched a few packs and wrapped them in a towel. “Return ‘em once they warm.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, holding the tray carefully as you turned—only to freeze.

You caught sight of Jeon through the café window’s reflection. He wasn’t watching the pizza anymore.

He was watching you.

His expression was blank at first… then it shifted, slow and subtle. His hand moved to his arm, gripping it like he needed to feel something. Like if he held tight enough, he could keep the guilt from falling out.

When your eyes locked in the reflection, he looked away instantly.

“I’m—” he started, but his voice caught. Like the words weren’t done forming. Like he’d rehearsed an apology that evaporated on contact.

You ignored him. What did you owe him now? You heard it though—a shaky breath, a soft sniffle, something he wasn’t fast enough to hide.

You walked away.

Because what kind of person hurts someone and then wants to be comforted?

By the time you got back to your room, you didn’t feel like a person at all—just a collection of aches and silence. You dropped onto the bed and placed the ice packs where they hurt most.

“Three whole days of rest… and breadsticks,” you muttered, trying to joke, even if your voice barely made it past your lips.

You turned toward the little digital clock by the door. A new addition. You hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe from Min. He seemed like the type to give quiet gestures instead of words.

You leaned your head back against the wall and whispered, “Maybe there are fewer hearts here than there is strength.”

The food was still warm. You ate it slowly, chewing without tasting much.

A tear fell, uninvited.

You came here to prove something—to earn your place. To make a name.

But all you’d done was stumble into trouble.

“What a mistake,” you sighed, chewing your last breadstick for now like it was your punishment.