Spidey Yunho is finally here ♥️🕷️🐶🕸️
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@byeoliesandeoki
Spidey Yunho is finally here ♥️🕷️🐶🕸️
the space between us three (jyh) | fifteen.
⇢series masterlist | series playlist
⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they’ve built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.
⇢pairing:single dad!yunho x f. reader
⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut
⇢word count: 7.5k
⇢chapter content/warnings: light cussing, seonghwa is rebuilding himself lol let's give it up for him ok 😀, lots of bball talk, but also lots of sweet and affectionate moments (per usual hehe), whole chapter is pretty much focused on yunho x seora x y/n spending time together <33, it's all wholesome so not many warnings!
"Baby." Yunho covers his other ear with his free hand. "Where are you? The game is starting soon."
"We're parking now." He sighs in relief, nodding to himself as if you can see him. "Sorry, my love."
"That's okay, I just can tell she's looking for you."
"Aw." You respond, gathering your things as Sian shifts the gear to park and shuts off the car. "We'll be inside in a few, promise."
"Alright. We're on the right side, near the middle."
"Okay. See you soon." And with that, the call ends. Sian and Noeul smile, grabbing their posters and little pompoms that they bought from the store.
"You and Yunho are so cute. You can't even wait a few seconds before you see each other."
"In fairness, we're running a bit behind so he was getting worried." You add a little pep to your step, picking up the pace as you walk over to the gym.
"Isn't there like, 5 minutes left before the game starts? He just wanted more time to see you and get his smooches in." Sian teases, making Noeul snort.
"Stop it." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you approach the gym doors, echoes of the loud crowd, dribbling and balls hitting the rims or backboards already ringing through the front walkway. It's crazy how even now, Yunho still manages to make you feel shy even with the smallest acts of affection— through check-in phone calls, through little gifts he leaves on your desks, cute texts in the morning.
When you spot Yunho and the group sitting together on the bleachers, his eyes instantly meet yours and you're quick to wave. He smiles from ear to ear, waving you over. You, Sian and Noeul walk alongside of the court— careful not to interrupt practice occuring on the main floor. You catch a quick glimpse of Seora running through shooting exercises with her team as you work your way up the bleachers to meet her father.
"Hey baby."
"Hey." You greet Yunho, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Sorry, we wanted to get a few props on the way over. Plus, a little gift for Seora." You say as you slide onto the bleachers next to him, saying your hello's to Mingi and Seonghwa. You're glad Noeul and Sian agreed to join, hoping to cheer on Seora and give her extra support during her championship game. Your mother, your father and Wonwoo are on their way, safely rushing over so that they'll make it in time for tip off.
While you settle in with your man, Sian catches up with Mingi and notices how stiff Noeul is next to her. Seonghwa can't help but look over a few times— probably wondering why Noeul hasn't said much or seems to be avoiding him despite the small progress they've made to move forward after what's happened between them.
"Why don't you sit over there with Seonghwa?" Sian nudges Noeul. "He keeps looking over here and I know damn well he's not looking at me." Noeul almost lets out a pathetic scoff.
"I'm not gonna leave you."
"Please, I'll be good with Mingi, Y/N and Yunho. Just go." She encourages Noeul with another nudge. Noeul sighs, rolling her eyes— but she stands anyway, making her way over to the empty spot next to Seonghwa. She doesn't wanna keep having this weird, awkward tension with him. And quite frankly, he had been trying. He was putting in more effort to show her that he was serious about starting over— about trying to be her friend, about taking things slow, about seeing where things go. She was tired of harboring ill feelings towards him, especially if he was trying to prove otherwise.
Though, she still had her guard up. Let's get that straight.
"Hey." She says, looking at him.
"Hey you." He smiles at her. "Glad you were able to make it to her game. I didn't think you and Sian were coming along."
"Yeah, we figured we'd come support. Why not? It'll be nice to see Seora kick ass on the court."
"Yeah, she's a beast on the court. Quite the show." Seonghwa chuckles. "Any other plans for today?"
"Not really. You?"
"There's this new exhibit at The Time Capsule. It's free admissions for a limited time period."
"Oh, I heard about it! I've been wanting to check it out, too." Noeul checks her phone. "Shoot, isn't free admissions about to end soon?"
"Tomorrow."
"Fuck." She mumbles to herself. "I'm busy tomorrow. Promised my parents I'd drive them around."
"Do you wanna check it out together after Seora's game?" Seonghwa looks at her. "No pressure at all, though. I'm sure they'll add more free admission dates randomly throughout the year while the exhibit is there, so you can always—"
"Yeah, I'm down." She cuts him off with a small smile. They agreed to take this slow and be friends, anyway. What does she have to lose? And when would she be able to see the exhibit otherwise? What if they don't add anymore free admission days while the exhibit is there?
"Really?" Seonghwa cocks a brow up, almost in disbelief that she agreed so easily. He wasn't used to it.
—FLASHBACK
Seonghwa and Yoori had just finished eating dinner at her place, and Seonghwa had been sitting on the couch flipping through the Netflix options trying to figure out what else they could watch tonight. He feels like they've gone through every possible option already, being that all they do is stay home and do .. this. Eat. Watch Netflix. Fuck. Cuddle. Sleep. He leaves. Repeat the next time he comes over.
Which, he loved in the beginning.
Now, though? The spark is gone. He wants something new and exciting. Something solid. Seonghwa is actually admitting he's tired of having something casual. It feels .. empty.
When he doesn't find anything to watch, he sighs. He looks over his shoulder to find Yoori still looking at something on her laptop with some papers next to her. Probably still glazing over some emails because she can never truly disconnect from work. She's sipping on a cup of tea, one that he made for her after dinner. It's chamomile with a dash of lemon and honey. He's got the measurements drilled in his mind like second nature because he does this for her so often.
Since, again, this is what they do.
She'll be getting ready for bed in no time.
But, Seonghwa thinks the night is still young and there's actually a place he's been wanting to visit. He pulls up the post on his phone, approaching her at the kitchen island.
"Find something to watch?" She asks, eyes trained on the laptop still.
"No. I did find something else, though."
"Hm?" She hums.
"There's this new exhibit at The Time Capsule. It's free admissions for a limited time period, and I wanted to check it out with you if you were down." He says, showing her the post for the new exhibit at the nearby, modern city museum. He's seen footage of the exhibit and has taken interest in it. He [especially] doesn't wanna pass up the opportunity on free admissions, either.
"Now?"
"Yeah."
"It's getting late." She looks at him, then out the window.
"It's barely 6:30pm. The museum closes at 10pm since it's also their 21+ event tonight."
"Mm. No, I'm not really in the mood to go."
"What, why? It's a free event. It'll be fun. Something different than us staying in like we normally do."
"Not really my thing?" She gives him a look, almost like she's disgusted. "Besides, isn't that what we initially agreed on? Just staying home and being peaceful behind closed doors."
"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt to explore every now and then. Right?"
"Please, where is this even coming from?" She scoffs, making Seonghwa knit his brows.
"I thought you'd be excited to do something different for once, that's all."
"No, not really. I'm fine right here."
"You wouldn't wanna go anywhere? Do anything different from this?"
"What are you getting at, Seonghwa?" She sits the cup in her hand down before looking at him. "I'm confused as to why you're suddenly wanting different when the agreement was to take it slow and casual."
"And now things are changing for me." Seonghwa admits. "I'm tired of this routine, Yoori. I'm mainly tired of this routine, that's why."
"Well, I'm sorry, Seonghwa. I don't know what you want from me." She stands, crossing her arms at her chest, looking at him with full-on attitude. He hates the look she gives him sometimes. She can never step out of director mode, and it's something he's grown to despise. Work has become her life, and he doesn't think it's something he'll enjoy in the long run.
Being put in the back seat for a job.
"I want you to be open to things like this. To step out of the house, even if it's to take a damn walk arond the neighborhood with me or to sit by the goddamn lake right around the corner from your place. I wanna go out on some nights to the club or a bar. Do something new like rollerblading no matter how stupid we'd look just to have fun. Go to the museum to analyze exhibits even if we won't remotely understand what the hell is going on. Shit like that! That's what I want." Yoori remains silent before sighing, setting her cup into the sink and shrugging.
"That's what you want and I don't have that."
"And that's the unfortunate part." He says lowly. "Maybe it was my fault for assuming we could try."
"Yeah. It was." He looks at her, brows knitted.
"Yeah." He stands, grabbing his jacket. "I think this is done, Yoori. It has been, don't you think?" She nods silently, looking at him with her head cocked to the side. As if he's some kind of chore now. A waste of time.
"I'm sorry."
"I am, too."
—END
"Yeah, really."
"Alright then." Seonghwa returns the smile, feeling excited to finally be able to visit the exhibit with some good company. He's actually relieved at how easy that was— almost feeling like a breath of fresh air. No fuss, no fight, no explanation.He returns his attention to the court, reminding himself not to move too fast or set any expectations for this— he wanted to treat Noeul right as a friend, first and foremost. Lay the foundation properly and give himself time to heal. Fix his inner issues, work on himself before thinking about relationships and commitment.
He sees you and Yunho and realizes it's something he wants. Something he'd like to grow into and grow with, regardless of the time it takes him. It's a goal for him, and he'll work towards it.
Sooner or later, the buzzer goes off, signaling the countdown to the last minute before the game officially starts. You link your arm with Yunho's, sliding your hand into his. You look up at him sweetly, letting him press another soft kiss to your forehead. You giggle, enjoying the moment as Seora listens to her coach run through the first play before the game begins. She briefly looks over, watching her father look down at you with all that love bursting from every bone in his body.
Watching her father smile down at you like you hold the sun, the moon, and the stars in your eyes.
It gives her that warm feeling in her stomach— distracts her for a second, too much that she doesn't even realize she's smiling so big.
"Hey." Chan-mi gently tugs on Seora's jersey, giggling near her ear. "Are you okay? Coach is running through the play. Did you hear anything?"
"Oh, yeah." Seora whispers back, smiling at her.
"What were you looking at?"
"My dad and Y/N. They're being cute." Chan-mi looks over and giggles a bit more.
"So sweet."
"Alright, any questions? Concerns? We're okay to run this play, my starting five?" Coach looks at Seora, Chan-mi, and the rest of the starting five on their team with a smile. "We can do this. I believe in you girls. We've made it this far, and we can take it all the way to the championships." The buzzer goes off loudly, echoing in the gym. The crowd starts to cheer, getting both teams pumped up for the game and giving the girls the energy they need to get the game started on a good note. "Let's go, girls!" Coach yells loudly, clapping his hands— hyping the girls up as the starting five walks out onto the court to get into position. Seora steps into the middle, shaking hands with the jumper from the other team.
Seora bends her knees slightly, adjusting her shorts up just enough.
"That's my girl." Yunho whispers, the crowd going silence to let the two focus at the center while the referee positions himself in between, ball in hand.
"Get 'em, ace." You whisper along, squeezing his hand.
Tip-off starts.
The jumper from the other team immediately jumps up with the ball and Seora knows that's not how you time your jumps.
And she's right.
Because the other jumper is about to hit the ground before the ball does.
She's got this in the bag. It's like second nature to her by now.
Seora gives herself a few minutes, letting the ball linger in the air before she jumps to tip it over towards her team— giving them the head start to the game. You, Yunho, and the rest of your friends cheer loudly, giving them the energy to proceed down the court to execute their play and score their first basket. By this time, your mom, dad, and Wonwoo walk in, joining your group on the bleachers.
"We made it just in time!" Your mom says, sitting on the bleachers in front of you. The rest of your friends greet your parents and your brother before returning their attention to the game ahead. It goes back and forth for awhile— both teams exchanging points, leaving the game to be a close one with one or the other only trailing by two or three points.
As they hit the second quarter, Seora's team falls behind. Yunho sighs, getting visibly nervous as he tries to cheer and reassure his daughter from the stands when she hops back into the game to relieve her teammates for the last few minutes.
At halftime, they're down by 6.
"Hey, ace. You're doing great, okay? Don't add to much pressure or work yourself too much. Just let the game unfold naturally." Yunho says as Seora briefly jogs over to grab some gatorade from him.
"Thanks, daddy." She waves at everyone else. "I'll try." He can tell Seora is feeling nervous and pressed— wanting to do her best to pull the team through for the last half.
"You can't carry the entire team on your back, babygirl."
"I know. But I can do my best to." She says, just before she jogs backward and shrugs. Yunho shakes his head and lets out a small scoff.
"She's just like you." You tap his knee.
"I don't know if that's a good or bad thing right now." He chuckles.
"She's got the grit and determination." You smile. "Don't worry. It'll be all good, love."
Both you and Yunho watch as Seora quickly gulps her gatorade before rounding up with the team and coach, going over the play for the third quarter. Because they're down, coach knows they need to execute a whole new aggressive play to get the team back up. He scribbles on his clipboard, going over the new play and asking if the next five have any questions.
Then, the next quarter begins with the girls on edge. There's just so much anxiety and pressure to get the team back up instead of trailing behind even more. The third quarter starts off pretty slow, with both teams not able to make shots for a long while. Finally, Seora's team is able to pick up momentum again— getting their shots in properly. Yunho can tell Seora is starting to get too nervous with the way her leg is constantly bouncing at the bench. She continues to cheer on her team as they run up and down the court, doing their best to catch up. At one point, she looks over to the crowd, her eyes landing on you and her father. You give her a small smile, while Yunho mouths out some reassuring words:
It's alright, ace.
Relax.
You got this.
Don't let them get to you.
I love you.
She smiles, her heart relaxing—nerves calming just as the third quarter comes to an end. Her team is down by three. Close enough. If they keep it close and don't give the other team advantages, they can pull through and take the W.
Seora hops onto her feet when coach tags her in, stretching her neck from side to side before she swipes at the bottom of her shoes— making sure they've still got good grip for the last quarter. She's got a good feeling, and she feels like she's got the energy to take her team all the way through to the finish line.
The quarter starts off tense, with Seora executing the plays effortlessly as usual. There's a few turnovers, but nothing her team can't bounce back from. It's a tight game, both teams exchanging points by making baskets every time the ball is in their court.
And Seora is sick of the back and forth.
So, she takes matters in her own hands. Especially when time is ticking.
They don't have all the time in the world to be dancing around.
Seora calls out the play to her teammates once more, passing the ball to Chan-mi on the right. The other team begins playing hard defense, almost pushing Chan-mi to lose the ball. But, Seora dives in, taking the ball back to center to restart. She calls out another play just to throw the other team for a loop, her coach fully supportive of the last-minute change just to get a shot in before time runs out.
"Let's go, ace!" You and Yunho yell, standing for her as she takes her lead as point guard, running the full play with her teammates in order to take the shot at the right side of the court. The ball goes in, putting her team at a three point lead. The game continues to be incredibly close, but as long as their team continues to push the same momentum, you have no doubt they'll pull through.
Seora looks at you and Yunho, smiling from ear to ear as she makes the shot. You, Yunho and the rest of the group cheer loudly for her as she runs down the court to take on defense, giving her the boost of energy she needs to keep the energy going.
"Run it back!" Yunho stands and yells when Seora's able to steal the ball from an opponent. "Run it back!" He repeats, his hands behind his head as he watches Seora drive the ball down the court for a layup— scoring another basket for the team and putting them up another 2 points.
"Yes, let's go!" You, your friends, and your family cheer loudly. "Good job, Seora!" Seora and her teammates high five each other before running back down the court, the clock ticking down with only three minutes left on the clock. Seora is on full defense mode, making sure the other team doesn't get a chance to score more baskets. It's probaby impossible to catch up by now, but still.
Seora doesn't wanna let her guard down.
As the other team executes their play, they try to dribble past the defense Seora and her teammates are putting up. They pass the ball along between each other, the clock running out of time before they forfeit their chance with the ball. One of the girls finally takes a shot out of pressure, the ball barely hitting the rim and bouncing off. Chan-mi jumps for the rebound, passing the ball down to her teammate who is already on their side of court, near the basket— allowing them to shoot the ball from the right, outer three-point line.
She misses, but Seora is there to catch the rebound before anyone else can. She restarts, bringing the ball back to the top. She calls out the play and executes, the clock now ticking down with seconds left. The other team plays hard on defense, double-teaming any of Seora's teammates that has the ball. Chan-mi barely passes the ball over to Seora, and Seora immediately shoots the ball right before the timer runs out.
"Yes! Let's go!" You and Yunho yell loudly together as Seora makes the winning basket— bringing her team to the championships. Your entire group roars and stands up, cheering loudly as Seora, her team and her coach celebrate together on the court before congratulating the other team and shaking their hands. When families are able to greet their children on the court, Yunho runs straight to Seora— lifting her into the air and swinging her around in his arms. She squeals, holding onto him tightly until he puts her back down and presses a kiss to the top of her head.
"Congrats, Ace! You killed it out there!"
"Thanks, daddy." She smiles before turning towards you. "Y/N!" She throws her arms around your torso. You hug her tightly and smile, giving her a good squeeze before letting go.
"Congrats, Seora! You were a beast." You say, handing her the small bag in your hand. "Got you a little something." She pulls back and gently takes the bag.
"Thank you. I'm glad you came. I was looking for you earlier and was worried you wouldn't come."
"Why wouldn't I come?" She chuckles and shrugs. "I'll always make it work."
"I wanna open this in the car, if that's okay."
"Of course." She looks up at you and smiles again.
"Thank you again. I really am happy you were here for my game." She looks at you, then at her faher. "I'm ready to go shopping, though." You and Yunho laugh.
"Alright, alright. Let's go hang out with your coach and team for a bit before we head home. Looks like he wants to have lunch at the bbq place across the street with everyone."
"Yum!" Seora says. "I could eat!" You laugh just as she greets your family and the rest of your friends, the entire group congratulating her while making their way over to the bbq spot across the street to celebrate with the team and their families.
"How does it feel to be headed off to the championships?"
"Like I'm on top of the world." Seora says, tossing her duffle bag aside, sighing contently as she carefully places her MVP medal onto the kitchen island. "Frame this, daddy. Please. I'll need to cherish this forever." Yunho laughs.
"You got it."
"I'm gonna go shower so we can get to shopping. Ou, then I can finally put this on my purse for today!" She squeals, pulling out the Hirono plush keychain she got from you. You had given her a Hirono blindbox as her small present post-game; something she had apparently been talking about and eyeing for days now, per her father.
"Can't wait to see that little cutie hanging from your purse." She smiles, giving you one last look of appreciation with the keychain in hand before rushing off to her bedroom with her things— leaving you and her father behind.
"Want anything to drink or snack on, baby?" Yunho asks as he shuffles through his fridge. "Seora and I cut some fruit up last night and made a little fruit bowl." He holds out a large clear bowl full of strawberries, mangoes, pineapples, grapes.
"Sure, I could use some fruit." He laughs.
"Atta girl." He says, bringing out two small bowls for you and him. He scoops some fruit into both before heading to the couch with both in hand. "Here." He holds out a bowl.
"Thank you." You look at the fruit. "Ouuu, they look so pretty and fresh."
"Right? They're hella good." He immediately digs in, forking right into a slice of mango. "God damn." You giggle.
"Seora played a hell of a game today. And was named MVP by her coach. You must be a proud dad."
"Always." He smiles. "God, what a good day."
"What does she do during off season?"
"Tournaments." He looks at you. "She never really stops playing, honestly."
"Really?"
"Mhm. She signs up for the youth recreational league at the nearby recreation center every summer. It's usually the same group of kids, lots of kids from her school join, too. It helps her continue to train over break."
"That's good. She likes to be busy, doesn't she?"
"Yeah, she does. Which, I guess, it's good. At least she's not always glued to her phone."
"Yeah."
"Her, Chan-mi, and their other friends always go out and explore. They rarely stay in and just doom-scroll or stay on TikTok, even though it may seem like it." You laugh.
"That's really good, love. You should be proud." The two of you continue to eat away at your fruit while going over the rest of Seora's birthday party details. You had helped Yunho book the perfect place for her party, along with placing the order for the decorations and cake. Yunho finalized the catering. Now, they just needed her list so they could get a final headcount and send out invites.
Once Seora was freshly showered and dressed, she grabs her shoulder bag and clips the Hirono keychain, along with a few of her other smaller keychains onto it. She looks at herself in the mirror for the final time before spraying some body mist and heading out of her room.
"I'm ready." She stands in the hallway in her jeans and a light purple sweater with flowers printed on the front.
"You look so cute. I love that sweater on you."
"Thanks." She chuckles, walking by your side as you two slip into your shoes near the front of the door. "I can't wait to finally go shopping."
"I know. We'll find you a cute outfit for your birthday. I know we will." She immediately links her arm with yours as you begin to walk towards Yunho's car— leaving him behind to slip into his shoes and lock up alone.
"Heyyyy. I still exist, too. I'm paying, remember?" He calls out, patting down his pockets before locking up the house.
"Yeah, we know, daddy. Don't worry." The both of you turn and pause in your steps, Seora shooting her dad a look.
"Oh yeah, really?" He playfully scoffs, gently ruffling her hair.
"Hey!" She says.
"Let's not go overboard with the new outfits, okay? That's the only rule I have."
"I never said I was gonna go overboard." Seora says, climbing into the backseat. "I'm a responsible shopper!" She pauses before she buckles in her seatbelt. "Most of the time. I've only accidentally gone overboard during stationary shopping, but I don't always do it!"
"Mhm." Yunho chuckles, looking at you. "My ladies all buckled in and ready?"
"Yes." You respond just as Seora does. You look at her through the rear view mirror, giving her another small smile while Yunho takes off for the mall. You listen intently as she starts to brainstorm more ideas for her birthday outfit— her ideas having changed a bit since the last time you two talked. You can tell she's excited to see what's out there, to find what works, to find a new style that she could show off.
On the way to the mall, Seora connects her phone to the bluetooth so she could pick and choose her favorite songs. You and Yunho sang along to most, the car ride turning into a full-blown karaoke session at one point.
You arrived at the mall within a blink of an eye.
Seora immediately walked to her favorite store, her eyes lighting up at the new collection and spread throughout the shop.
"Ace." Yunho's hands are dug deep into his pockets as he trails behind you two. He's a little scared, he's not gonna lie. He's not sure if he's scared to see Seora grow up so quickly right in front of his eyes, or if he's afraid for his wallet. Or both, perhaps. But, he decides to give her a friendly reminder to keep it cool, calm, and collected. "Just what you need—"
"Yes, right, yeah!" She says, already rushing off to the first section with you right behind her.
"And not anything unnecessary." Yunho finishes his statement, shaking his head with a small chuckle. Forget it, he thinks. Why the fuck was he being like this? It was for her birthday. He needed to let her do whatever the hell he wanted. Besides, he liked seeing this.
You and Seora taking your sweet time go through the each and every single item on the rack.
He was going to sit back and silently trail behind, waiting to whip out his wallet whenever you two were ready. But, his smile grew wider and wider every time Seora turned to ask for his opinion or to excitedly show him the new options she'd hang over her arm before going off on how she envisioned the outfit in her head.
Once she was ready [and damn near drowning with all the clothes on her arm], she ran off to the dressing room with you— wanting you to be in the room with her. It was another step forward in your relationship with Seora, more progression in your relationship, and you couldn't be more ecstatic. Grateful. You helped set her clothes along the wall of the dressing room, lining up the shirts and bottoms by outfit ideas. Yunho sat outside, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He realized he hadn't taken an 'artistic' shot in awhile to post on his Instagram, and he was quite overdue. Hopefully, he could snap a photo today. It could be his way of updating whoever followed him on life's adventures.
Updating them that he was happy, that Seora was happy.
That all was well and he felt loved. At the equal amount of love he was giving. Everything felt balanced for once.
He could hear the two of you laughing while trying to decide the best way to mix and match the oufits, until finally, he heard Seora squeal a few times.
"Wait, this is it!" She squeals. "These are the two! This is perfect!"
"Yeah?" You laugh, looking at her in the mirror. "It's super cute. I agree on both." She nods. "Turn around?" She turns.
"Cute?"
"Mhm! Okay, face front again." You direct her. "Pose." She does a cute pose, throwing up the peace sign with her lips puckered. "Yes girl, there it is!" She laughs. "Again— mhm, cute!" Yunho laughs to himself hearing the cute girl talk outside.
"Wait, can we take a mirror picture?"
"But, I look gross." You chuckle.
"You don't." She gently wraps her arm around yours to tug you closer, leaning her head against it as she brings up her phone. "1-2— Pose!" She throws up the peace sign again— this time, sticking her tongue out, while you also throw up the peace sign and make a cute face. She laughs, admiring the photos. "Yup, I want these outfits. This is it." She looks at herself again in the mirror, observing the outfit from side to side, back to front. "See, I wouldn't have been able to do this with dad."
"I heard that." Yunho murmurs right outside the door, making her giggle.
"I love you!" She calls out before undressing and putting on her own clothes. You separate the 'no' items from the 'yes' items, making sure everything Seora wanted was in the right hand.
"I love you, too." Yunho grumbles. But, just before he could throw a dramatic [unserious, playful] tantrum, the door swings open and out comes a happy daughter and girlfriend. Suddenly, he's no longer hurt by the fact that Seora doesn't think he can provide top tier fashion advice— he can't even stop his smile from growing when he sees how naturally happy the two of you are together. "Sounds like we had some success with the stuff you two picked out?"
"Yup!" You raise your left hand. "This is the no group." Yunho's nods and chuckles.
"And that's the yes?" He points to your right hand, causing you to nod.
"I'll let you take care of these." You hand the clothes over to him. He lets out a teasing sigh, taking the items from your hand and throwing them carefully over his arm.
"Yeah, yeah." Yunho chuckles, taking out his wallet from his back pocket while you and Seora follow from behind. "Let me think about which card to put this on."
"Thank you, daddy." Seora clings onto his free arm and looks up at him with her cute, boba eyes. He smiles down at her and ruffles her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head like he always does.
"You're welcome, ace. As long as you're happy." As Yunho gets to the register to pay for Seora's outfits and accessories, Seora looks out to the mall, her eyes landing on the milk tea stand in the middle of the walkway outside of the store.
"Y/N, can you come with me to get milk tea, please? I'm parched after trying on those clothes." You laugh, nodding.
"Alright. Come on, let's go get some milk tea. What does your dad want?"
"Taro."
"What do you like?"
"I like being adventurous." She taps her chin as you approach the milk tea booth, eyeing the specials they have. "Like, that oreo thai milk tea. Ou, or that black sugar banana milk with boba? Oh my god."
"You should do it." You respond in a sing-song tone with an approving look.
"What'll you get?"
"I'm simple like your dad, too." You giggle. "I usually just go for a strawberry matcha latte if I want something sweet, or a roasted oolong milk tea if I want something that's not too heavy."
"Those are good, though. Strawberry matcha latte is so good. Are you craving that for today?"
"Yeah, I suppose I can go for that today." You smile as you approach the cashier. "Decide on which one you wanna taste?"
"Definitely can't stop thinking about the black sugar banana milk with boba. It's probably gonna be really sweet, but I need it. I played my butt off today." You laugh and nod.
"Got it." You order for the three of you, tapping your card against the reader just as Yunho makes his way over— his long legs striding over in two, three, four big steps.
"Hey, woah. You couldn't wait for me to get those?"
"It's fine." You look up at him with a smile. "Let me get the milk tea." He tuts.
"Babe." He whines a bit under his breath.
"Stop." You chuckle, grabbing the receipt from the cashier before thanking the associate. "We got you taro."
"That's perfect. Thank you." He says, planting a kiss against your temple before throwing his arm around Seora— tugging her to his side and causing her to giggle. "Wanna walk around some more?"
"Yeah, yeah!" Seora says. Once the drinks were made, the three of you continued to walk around the mall— mainly to window shop. Seora grabbed herself a few little goodies consisting of more stationary supplies, keychains, and small, inexpensive blind boxes. Towards the end, she found a pair of chunky black boots that she couldn't stop eyeing. Yunho could tell she wanted them badly, despite the fact that she kept brushing it off and telling him she didn't want it.
That he bought enough for her, that she was more than satisfied.
He could see it in his daughter's eyes.
So, he walked in there, had her try on the shoes— watched her face glow. The moment he realized she couldn't stop staring at herself in those shoes, he knew she had to have the pair.
After he bought her the boots, Seora's eyes landed on a small crowd of people populating in an area.
"Wait, let's go check it out." She nods at the section. "There's people heading over there. I'm curious." You and Yunho nod. It's not long before you find out that they were holding a light exhibit at the end of the mall, which Seora dragged both you and Yuhno into before going home. It was a free exhibit, and luckily, the three of you caught it on its last day. Despite the small crowd that formed at the entrance, there weren't too many people walking through the exhibit itself— making it easier to take photos.
"Y/N, oh my god. Look. Isn't it so cute?!" Seora says, dragging you by the hand towards the fairy made up of bright lights.
"She is cute." You laugh. "I've never seen such a huge light exhibit at the mall."
"It's amazing." She looks up in awe.
"Okay, pose right over there." You let go of her hand and direct her to stand near the fairy's wings. "Cute!" You show her the picture.
"Oh gosh." Seora laughs. "It is cute. Here. Can I take yours? Then, the big ol' giant can come join you."
"Excuse you." Yunho responds.
"What?" Seora asks as she focuses on taking your picture, smiling at the way you pose. "Pretty!" She shows you the photo, causing you to nod in approval.
"Aw, thank you, Seora. Your angles are amazing. You take better picture than me and Wonwoo combined. My parents will definitely agree on that." You snort.
"Okay, okay. Dad, go be cute and stand next to Y/N." She gently pushes her dad towards the fairy to stand next to you. Yunho throws an arm around you, tugging you close to his side. He makes a silly face and throws up the peace sign, making Seora laugh. "You're not serious. I said be cute!"
"Am I not cute?!"
"Dad, please." You gently smack his chest also in retaliation.
"Ah—Okay, okay." He laughs. The two of you smile for the first photo before Yunho kisses your cheek for the next. Seora directs him to hug you from behind, making you giggle. She snaps a few candid photos— satisfied with what she was able to capture.
"Perfect." She says, showing you the photos she took on your phone. "Isn't it super cute?"
"Damn, ace. You do take good photos."
"I know, I taught you, remember?" She laughs, taking the lead further down the exhibit. You catch up and walk alongside of Seora, the both of you continuing to look at the lights in awe— snapping photos every chance you get. Yunho couldn't help but chuckle to himself, trailing behind just to watch you two interact. It made his heart swell with love, affection. Overwhelming joy.
His girls drinking milk tea together under the lights. The exhibit took 30 minutes before the three of you finally hit the end. A staff member noticed you and Yunho switching off to take photos with Seora, so they offered to take a couple of group shots for you. When you looked at the photos, you couldn't help but almost tear up at how happy Yunho and Seora looked alongside of you. How happy the three of you looked together.
How complete you looked.
It was decided you'd grab Seora's favorite fried chicken and kimchi fried rice from her favorite restaurant on the way home, part two of the karaoke session kicking in after a successful shopping trip and day out together post-playoff game. Back at Yunho's, everyone settles down quickly— changing into pajamas before gathering at the dining table to eat together. Seora talks a bit about the upcoming championship game as a way to calm her nerves. She talk about how she hopes she'll play well just like she did in today's game. You and Yunho reassure her, reminding her just how much of an amazing player she is no matter what the outcome ends up being. Yunho follows up by telling her how proud he is of how far she's come and how excited he is to see where she goes.
To see where this all takes her. To see her grow.
And you are, too. Hopefully, alongside of Yunho, for years to come.
After dinner, you and Seora help Yunho clean up in the kitchen. You're cleaning the dishes, while Seora is wiping down the table and Yunho is taking out the trash. Your mom had quickly stopped by to say hi, bringing over some cake for the three of you to quickly indulge in for dessert. Once the kitchen was neat and tidy, Yunho pulled out the couch to turn it into a bed, dropping some blankets onto the surface. Yunho gets himself settled on one end with you on the other end. Seora lays sideways [somehow comfortably] in between you and her father, with her head on your lap— your hand gently threading through her long hair and massaging her scalp.
"I want to invite him to my birthday, but I dunno if he'd go." Seora shows you a picture of a boy in the grade above, supposedly one of the cuter boys in that class that all the girls in her class have a crush on. She also has a crush on him, but she won't say it out loud with her father being so close in proximity.
"Why not? You never know unless you ask, Seora."
"I'm afraid of rejection. Like, as in, he won't be able to go to the party." She talks in code with you, giving you a quick look.
"How could he say no to you?" You chuckle. "Besides, you said the boys in your class are cool with him. He might be okay hanging out with them for the day."
"Excuse me, who is this boy we're talking about?" Yunho cocks a brow up as he sips the cup of tea in hand. He props Seora's feet onto his lap, gently adjusting her crooked fuzzy socks. "Acting like I can't hear this conversation."
"Nobody, dad." Seora giggles.
"All of a sudden he's a nobody." You give him a look, subtly shaking your head to stop him from pressing on. He mouths out a single 'what?' before glancing back down at his daughter. Then, back at you.
"Seora is just going through her guest list for the party."
"And are you satisfied with it?"
"I think so." Seora sighs, sinking into your hold as you continue to rake through her hair with your fingers.
"I say you should just invite everyone you've got on that list." She briefly looks up at you and you wink. She smiles before nodding, scrolling through her Instagram feed again.
"Yeah, I will. Why shouldn't I, right?"
"Let me see the list, ace."
"Once I'm done." She emphasizes.
"Am I gonna see some new names?"
"Perhaps."
"Can I at least meet these new names beforehand? Give them a little interview before they step through the hall doors—"
"Jeong Yunho." You mutter as you give him another look, making Seora laugh.
"Daddy got in trouble."
"Hey, I'm just trying to do my daddy duties."
"Daddy duties gotta relax during birthday girl's party." Yunho looks at you before giving off a resigned sigh.
"Fine, fine. But if these newcomers try anything, I'll be quick to show them the door."
"Dad's a gentle giant, he wouldn't." Seora says, setting her phone down to pay attention to the TV.
"Yes the hell I would." Yunho adds. "You think I wouldn't for you, ace?"
"Daddy. You wouldn't cause problems. You could never." She says, squealing a bit when Yunho gently tickles her foot and squeezes her toes.
"Just protecting my little girl, that's all." You smile at the two's playful banter. As the zombie movie continues, you and Seora chime in with your thoughts on each scene that unfolds. There's a lengthy debate that goes on for awhile about survival skills and the best way to stay alive the longest, even as Seora starts to yawn.
Then, the yawns trickle down to you.
Eventually, it gets a little too quiet. Seora's commentary has stopped. Sooner or later, your own comments and giggles have stopped. Yunho feels like he might be watching the movie by himself at this point.
And he's right.
He slightly turns his head to the right, seeing you tucked against his side— fast asleep. Seora's head is still on your lap. He smiles to himself, silently and slowly tugging up the blankets to completely drape them over your bodies in the meantime.
"My sleepy, beautiful ladies."
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the space between us three (jyh) | fourteen.
⇢series masterlist | series playlist
⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.
⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader
⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut
⇢word count: 7.8k
⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, date night with yunho so we're gonna get a lot of sweet - affectionate - tender moments between these two, some tiny wholesome moments with seora!, some light alcohol consumption (no intoxication - still does not mean i tolerate drinking and driving so pls don't do it), oc is still questioning her place in seora x yunho's life, some deep talks, unprotected sex, some clit play, making out, cowgirl, still pretty soft smut i'd say, yunho and his praises hehe
⇢a/n: ahh, thank you for waiting! my weeks were busier than expected and my vacation had me TIRED. i hope you enjoy this! also, it was SO hard to write the smut in this because i never really pictured smut in this series lol & if i did include it, i never wanted it to be a big highlight of the series, so sorry if it seems a lil bland! lol. anyway, i still hope the update is enjoyable for you! & i'm sad to say, but i’ll be wrapping up the space between us three soon. 🥺
It turns out that Yunho did need Seora's guidance after all.
And she would never let it down.
—FLASHBACK
"Huh." Seora sits back a bit and smirks. "What happened to 'that's only for your old giant to know?'"
"Ace." Yunho sighs as he taps the pen onto the piece of paper in the center of the dining table mid-dinner. "Seriously."
"My services aren't free."
"How are your services not free when you offered to help in the first place?!"
"Need another stationary run." She smirks, responding to him in a sing-song tone.
"What happened to the stuff we just bought, Seora?" Her father raises his brow.
"Would you like my help, father? Or, not?"
"Just for the record, I never taught you this, okay?" She laughs. "Fine. Stationary date. Next weekend after your game."
"Deal." She does a handshake with her father. "These ideas are not great."
"What do you mean?!"
"I meant what I said! This is so .. basic!" She crosses everything out on the paper. "No, no no!" She groans. "Daddy, what did I tell you?"
"What?" She furrows her brows at him. "What did you tell me?"
"Do men really have selective hearing?"
"I just need a reminder." He scoffs. "And what does that mean?"
"I told you not to mess this up!" Seora says. "And you, Uncle Mingi, and Uncle Hwa are all the same! 'What? What did you say? What did you tell me?'" She mocks them with her best deep voice.
"I'm not! That's why I'm asking for your advice!" Yunho furrows his brows. "And I don't sound like that. That's just Uncle Mingi."
"Don't take her on the cliché dinner and movie!" She sighs. "Aiyaya." She stands and walks towards her room.
"Well damn, are you just giving up on your dad like that?"
"I'll be right back, I'm getting a few things." She calls out from her room. Yunho waits patiently, continuing to eat dinner until he sees his daughter come back with a notebook, her pencil bag, some colored index cards and stickers.
"What's that for?"
"You'll see." She starts to scribble out the word 'Clue #1' on the index card before flashing it to her father. "Scavenger hunt date."
"Scavenger hunt?"
"Yeah. Ish. Something like that. Solve a clue to get to your destination."
"How do you know about this stuff?"
"I saw it on this vlog I was watching. Her boyfriend took her out on a scavenger hunt date for their anniversary. It was so cute, dad. But, they took the entire day, so he took her everywhere and actually made her search for clues around the city." She gasps. "Wait, I got it. How about I plan the places and clues for you and Y/N?"
"That's really sweet, ace. But, how will you find places?"
"Dad, seriously? I'll figure it out. Don't worry. I'll ask Chan-mi .. and maybe her parents to do a quality check. We'll keep it simple, but cute and creative enough."
"Ace. I wanna be a part of this, too. I don't want her to think I just left it on you."
"Okay, then I'll ask for your final approval or something." Yunho looks at her, remaining silent. "Fine. We can do it together. Please. I promise I won't disappoint. Besides, I'm not the one who thought of the cliché dinner and movie date! You asked for my help, so I'm giving it!"
"Fine, fine. You're right." Yunho throws his hands up in defeat.
—END
Yunho stands at the kitchen with his cup of coffee in hand, watching as Seora slips into her shoes and gathers her bag. She was staying at Chan-mi's for the weekend, telling her father that she wanted to give him privacy for his date.
"You really don't have to bother them for the weekend, you know?"
"Well, I want to. And I'm not bothering them, dad. Chan-mi and I haven't done our sleepovers in a minute, so we're overdue." He laughs.
"Alright then."
"Enjoy." She smirks, throwing her duffle bag strap over her shoulder. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"Okay!" He copies her tone, following her to the door and waving at Chan-mi and her parents.
"Oh, also. Do not forget to take that bag with you on the counter tonight." She points towards a white treat bag with pink bows on the front, sitting on the kitchen counter. "It's so, so important, daddy. I swear, you cannot forget it."
"I won't!"
"I'll even set a reminder to text you before you leave later."
"You don't trust me?"
"Not really!" She yells as she skips down the steps and towards Chan-mi's car. "Bye! Love you!"
"Love you too." He says, watching his daughter climb into their car and drive off. He lets out a content sigh before shutting the door, shaking his head. "How did I raise that girl?" He looks down at his watch, frowning when he realizes he still has a few hours to go before he sees you. He picks up the phone anyway, wondering if there's any way that he can get you over to the house earlier.
"Hi." You smile, pushing the cart down the produce aisle of the grocery store.
"Hey cutie." Yunho smiles himself, sipping on his coffee. "What're you up to?"
"I'm doing my groceries." You chuckle, picking up a bag of green onions and carrots and placing it carefully into the cart. "What about you?"
"Sipping on some coffee after I sent my daughter off with her bestfriend for the weekend. Wondering when my lady can come over."
"I'll be over in a few hours. Isn't that soon enough?"
"Not really, no. Can't you come sooner? After groceries? I just wanna spend as much time as I possibly can with you."
"I'm sleeping over, aren't I?"
"Funny if you think that's enough." He teases, leaning against the counter. "No pressure at all, but also, slight pressure. I miss you. I wanna see you already." You pause in your steps, listening to the need in his tone. You miss Yunho, too. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't wanna spend more time with him, either.
"Speaking of sleeping over—"
"Hm?" He hums in the cute, teasing tone of his again. "You're not getting out of it, you know?"
"I know. But—"
"But?"
"You're sure Seora's fine with it?"
"I promise. She left for a reason." Yunho snorts. "She willingly left so we could get the house to ourselves." You sigh, mainly because you were still reluctant and wanted to make sure you weren't stepping on Seora's toes despite the progress you've made with her.
"Okay, okay. I just want to make sure she's 100% okay with this and left on a good note."
"Trust me, she was happy to leave." Pause. Silence. Yunho lets out a small sigh when he doesn't hear you respond right away. "Baby, I promise. Okay? Everything's fine. Seora is warming up to this whole thing. Let her."
"Alright." You push the cart towards the fruits, your grocery shopping almost coming to an end. "I'm almost done with my groceries. Once I get home and get my life together, I'll head over."
"That's my girl." He smiles. "See you soon, baby."
"Can't believe you." You laugh. "Bye." You bite your lip, the heat rising to your cheeks as you end the call and switch your focus to checking out.
Meanwhile, Yunho starts cleaning around the house, making sure every corner is tidy as can be. He dusts the counters, wipes them clean, sprays the house with the best room spray he has on his shelf. He goes through his candles and puts out the best smelling one— making a mental note to light it when the two of you get home tonight. He's already put out fresh new sheets on the bed, fluffing out the pillows to make sure you'll be comfortable tonight. The comforters are thick enough in case you get cold.
But, how could you get cold when he's there? He could never let you get cold.
Seora even left her room neat and tidy; bed made neatly, desk organized, books and supplies arranged on her shelves.
Yunho's not even sure why he's acting like this when you've been here a few times already. Tonight's just .. different. He wants it to be special and he wants everything to go perfectly. Smoothly. He wants to take care of you tonight, and he wants to ensure you don't ever doubt your place with him and Seora. Especially, Seora.
He wants you to know that this home is open to you.
That you are welcome here.
That you should feel welcome here.
Like you could belong.
You do belong.
It's not long before you're parking your car in front of his house, making your way to your parents' house to check on things really quickly. They were gone for the weekend with Wonwoo— your brother having promised them a relaxing weekend away in nature. A camping weekend. He knew he hadn't spent as much time with your parents lately, so he made the effort to save a weekend for them to do something they'd all enjoy. Your mother was okay with anything so as long as she could relax. Your father wanted to fish, and he was looking forward to doing that with Wonwoo.
Plus, being the good brother he was, he knew Yunho would be taking you out on a more formal date and that you'd be staying the night. He didn't want your parents to be all up in your business, or else, they'd never leave it alone. You wouldn't hear the end of it for days. The both of you, actually.
You quickly watered the plants out in the front yard before checking things in the house and locking up, Yunho already leaning against his doorframe as he watched you walk over— arms crossed against his chest, whistling.
"Stop it." You mutter.
"What?" He laughs, grabbing your large tote bag full of toiletries and extra clothes. "I can't check my lady out?" You shake your head before tippy-toeing to give him a kiss on the cheek, then on the lips.
"Never said that. You just make me shy, is all."
"And I like seeing that. It's cute." Yunho smiles, gently caressing your chin. "Hi baby."
"Hi. What have you been up to?" You step out of your shoes as he shuts the door close.
"Mm, cleaning. Waiting patiently. Even though it was excruciating." You laugh.
"Oh, it wasn't that bad."
"Easy for you to say." He takes your bag and makes his way to his bedroom. "I'll take this to my room, okay? Make yourself comfortable." You nod, sitting on his couch. Admittedly, you felt yourself stiffen up on his couch— still unsure of your place in his home [or, rather, overstepping boundaries in his home]. When Yunho comes out, he cocks up a brow, sliding himself next to you on the cushion.
"Baby, can you ease up? My home is your home."
"No, stop. I just—"
"Don't even start." He says, leaning back— sprawling back against the couch. "C'mere." You look back and chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes before you cuddle up to him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before holding you close— providing the body warmth you had been craving. "Do you wanna do anything specific?"
"Mm, no. I just wanna be here with you until we have to get ready."
"Be lazy with me for awhile, hm?"
"Exactly."
"My girl." He smiles at you. He adjusts his position on the couch so that the two of you can lay together, draping the blanket over your bodies while he flipped through the movie options on the TV screen. You laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You used to pray for days like this— simple days with someone you cherished. It didn't have to be much, it didn't have to be anything at all. It could just be this, and you'd feel complete.
And that's all you and Yunho did.
Lay there, watch movie after movie.
Cuddle.
Nap a bit.
Makeout a bit.
A lot, maybe. Yunho had his ways of distracting you mid-movie, mid-cuddle— lifting your chin to ask for an innocent kiss before he'd chase your lips for another. And another.
And another. Until the movie was pure background noise, fighting with the mixed noises of your soft, wet kisses from the couch.
When it was time to get ready for the date, the both of you get ready together; the domesticity of it all feeling .. new, but exciting. You'd change together in his room, walking around each other as if you'd been doing it for years. You'd fix your hair and do your makeup in his bathroom while he fluffed his hair around and sprayed some cologne. When it was time to leave, you grabbed your purse while Yunho grabbed his keys, wallet and phone. Just as you were about to walk out of the door, his phone dinged— signaling a text had just come through.
"You got a text." You say, the both of you pausing in your steps. "Is it Seora?"
"Yeah." He reads the text—
seora: white bag!
"Shit." You laugh, watching as Yunho sighs and takes a few steps backwards— a small frown on his face.
"You almost forgot this white bag?" You eye the bag and smile. "The bows are cute."
"Yeah." He sighs, grabbing the bag from the counter before meeting you at the door. "But whatever you do, please do not tell Seora."
"What happens if I do?"
"Baby." Yunho looks at you with a frown. "Have I ever asked for anything?" You snort.
"I'm definitely telling."
"You're really not playing fair." He playfully glares at you as he puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the car.
"What's in it?"
"Something Seora made." Yunho shrugs. "She shoo'd me out of the kitchen when she prepped it. Smelled good, though." You giggle as Yunho swings the door open and lets you into the passenger seat, setting the bag onto your lap. "I'll keep this safe with you."
"Probably best."
"We can't open it until our last stop, apparently."
"Oh?"
"Mhm." He says right before shutting your door to hop into the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt in and starting up the car. "So." He flashes the flashcard deck. "Here's the first clue. There's three. There were only supposed to be two, but I guess Seora slipped in another one and I have no idea what that one is." You smile at him.
"You don't? But, you know the others?"
"Yeah, we planned it together."
"She .. helped planned all of this? Everything was Seora approved?"
"Yeah. She said if I messed up, she'd cancel the entire date. I was absolutely not allowed to mess this up, baby. You have no idea." You laugh, kissing his cheek.
"I'm sure it'll be absolutely amazing."
"Hope so." He hands you the first card. "Go ahead. Think you can figure it out and guess where the first place is? We thought of popular, standout places, so it should come to mind pretty easily." You take the card and read the clue— the handwriting clearly Seora's. You giggle softly to yourself, reading the card out loud:
Clue #1 Dad said not too expensive, but obviously, I ignored him. Tonight starts with 3 dollar signs. Sit close to the chef and let him choose every bite. I call it 'expensive sushi.' Can you guess what it is? The restaurant is in a pretty, modern, all black building in a popular shopping area in the downtown area. It just opened not too long ago, aaaand .. it's a Michelin Star! Best part - it has my name in it. ((: (Seora, hehe)
"Expensive sushi? Omakase?" You ask, looking at Yunho and he laughs.
"Yup. Know which place?"
"Hm." You hum as he starts the car, getting ready to head downtown since it'd be a bit of a drive anyway. "The restaurant has Seora's name in it?" He nods.
"Think about it, love." He says. "It was the talk for awhile because it was the new Michelin Star that came around." You ponder for a second, wondering if Sian or Noeul had mentioned it since they're pretty in the know about those things. You run through some restaurants in your head for a minute before you think hard and long on Seora's name. The popular shopping districts around downtown.
Then, it finally comes to you.
"Sushi Sora!" Yunho smirks, but it dies when you playfully [and gently] pinch his bicep. "Jeong Yunho!"
"What?!"
"That restaurant is so expensive! Why did you and Seora settle on that?" You pout.
"Because we—" He emphasizes. "wanted you to know how much you meant to us. I know it isn't about money and the materialistic things, but I just wanted to take good care of you tonight. Okay? Can you please let me do that?" He gently caresses your chin. "Let me make our night special. Besides, again, Seora did not want me to do anything less and I wouldn't have allowed myself to do so either."
"Too good to me."
"Not even. I'm still learning how to be good enough." He says softly, lacing his large hand with yours— placing a tender kiss to the surface.
"You are." Yunho takes a quick glance at you with a small smile, his heart fluttering just seeing you sitting there prettily in his passenger's seat. God, how did he end up getting so lucky? After everything he's been through, he never thought he'd find this type of love again.
That 'real, feel-it-in-your-chest, loud heartbeat' type of love. The 'make you feel all warm and fuzzy' type of love. The 'throw rocks at your window and stay on the phone even when you fall asleep' type of love. Young, raw love that never grows old.
This must have been Eunha's blessing.
When Yunho makes his way to Sushi Sora, he parks his car in the garage near the back of the building. He quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out, adds a little pep to his step when he pulls the passenger door open for you.
"Thank you." You smile sweetly at him, lacing your hand in his as he shuts the door.
"Ready for some expensive sushi?"
"I am. I'm actually really excited to try this restaurant since there's been nothing but good reviews."
"Well, has to be a Michelin Star for a reason." He squeezes your hand, giving it a small, gentle kiss on the surface as he leads the way to the restaurant with you right by his side.
"How did you even manage to get a reservation here?"
"Hm, to be honest, Seora and I kept checking every day to see if there was a cancellation." He chuckled. "And somehow, she got lucky."
"Aw. She truly is the ace."
"She is, yeah." He holds the door open for you, helping you navigate the small entry way until you reach the host to check in. He asks for the name and number of the reservation, and once Yunho confirms, he immediately takes you to the counter to sit right by the chef. Yunho lets you settle onto the bar stool first, making sure you're comfortable before he sits. "You're okay?" He asks, smiling at you as the server sets two small cups of water down.
"Yeah. This is amazing. It's beautiful in here." You look around at the modern and sleek interior of the restaurant.
"It is." He looks at you, eyeing your features. "Want anything to drink, baby? Sake?"
"We can order some sake if you'll be okay to drive."
"I'm taking one drink with you. I'll be okay. I promise. We'll be eating throughout it, too." He reassures you, calling the server over to order sake. "I'm glad I'm finally getting you to myself tonight."
"Me too." You look at him. "My brother took my parents away for the weekend when I told him about our date."
"He did?" Yunho laughs.
"Yeah." You snort. "He didn't want them to be in our business, so he took them camping."
"A champ. Although, I wouldn't mind."
"I do."
"Why?"
"I don't need my parents knowing what we're up to."
'Well, what are we gonna be up to exactly?" He smirks like a cocky asshole, making you roll your eyes.
"Nothing."
"No, no." He gently nudges you. "Go on. Say what you wanna say. What are we gonna be up to?"
"Yunho—" You're interrupted when the first dish of the night is served. The chef places two generous servings of Bigfin Reef Squid Nigiri on the plate in front of you and Yunho. He talks a bit about squid and how people normally don't choose the delicacy due to its tough and chewy texture, but by removing those parts, he believes it can be likable— especially if you only serve the best part [like he does].
Then, he serves two small cuts of Sadowara Eggplant while summarizing its production history. He recommended eating it with soy sauce and ginger and a small sprinkle of bonito flakes, which he provided.
"Wow, holy shit." Yunho says under his breath.
"I agree."
"Damn. Who knew eggplant could be this good." You chuckle, nodding in agreement.
"One of a kind."
After, he served Tuna Nigiri with red vinegar sushi rice and added a small pinch of Yuzu dust on the top.
Everything was incredible and continued to get better and better [if possible]. As you both continued to eat away at the dishes being served by the chef, Yunho swings his arm around the back of your bar stool— paying full attention to you as you speak to him in between the chef's small lessons. At the end of dinner, both of you are stuffed and satisfied. Yunho sets his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the cozy, intimate restaurant and out into the crisp, evening air.
"I'm stuffed, babe." You huff, leaning your head against his arm as you walk back to the car.
"Same. Glad you enjoyed." He kisses the top of your head before digging into his pocket, pulling out the next clue. "Here. Next spot."
Clue #2 This place is a small studio, right by the river. Views of the bridge. Dinner was about trusting the chef, now it's about trusting your creativity. Btw, Dad is terrible at art, but he tries. How bad can it be? Even he can't break a paintbrush. Pick and choose wisely!
"Shoot. I think I'm stumped." He laughs, reading the card before looking at you.
"Come on, baby." You hum as you approach the parking garage, walking slowly towards the car. "You can tell what kind of studio it is, right?"
"Art studio, yeah." You look up at him. "A paintbrush .. are we painting?" He shakes his head.
"Nope. Pick and choose wisely." He repeats Seora's line on the clue card.
"Pick and choose wisely." You ponder on your thoughts, pausing on the details. "By the river. Views of the bridge."
"Mhm."
"Oh!" You stop right by the passenger's door. "Is it the paint-your-own-pottery studio?"
"Sure is!" Yunho swings your door open to let you in before helping himself into the driver's seat.
"Wait, really?!"
"Yeah, why?" He laughs as you two buckle in.
"No, nothing. I'm just excited. I've always wanted to go. Well, the girls always wanted to do a girls date there, too."
"Now, you can let them know how it is."
"Touché." You let out a breath when Yunho starts to drive off. "Dinner was so good. I think I'm gonna be dreaming about it for days."
"Yeah?" Yunho chuckles. "Glad you liked it, pretty." There's a comfortable silence that falls between you two, mainly because Yunho finds himself sinking into his feelings a bit. He holds your hand, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the surface as he drives towards the pottery studio. Yunho's been thinking a lot about you [as always], but you as in where his feelings lie, where the relationship is going. He feels like he has fallen so deep, he knows he doesn't wanna let this go. And he hopes— god, he hopes— you feel the same way, too. Despite the hiccups you've faced, you've handled it with grace. Stayed by his side. Respected his space. Respected Seora. Tried to understand how to love him, how to love her. How to fill the void without crossing boundaries.
He briefly glances over, eyes meeting yours when you feel his gaze on you.
"What?" He chuckles and shakes his head, brushing his thoughts away temporarily.
"I had an idea for the pottery studio."
"Oh yeah?"
"I'll paint you something and you paint me something?"
"Okay, I like that, Jeong Yunho." You smirk. "Let's do it."
When Yunho arrives at the studio, there aren't too many people there. There's another couple, and two other girls, plus two associates. They walk the group through the studio to show everyone the supplies and the different pottery you can choose to paint. They showed everyone the kiln and let everyone know to bring their pottery over once they were done so they could be fired up. They also gave everyone the option to purchase one of their paint kits to paint their pottery at home and bring it back whenever they were ready in case they were on a time crunch. But, everyone stayed and seemed to have wanted the experience just like you and Yunho did.
Yunho grabs two aprons— helping you into yours before slipping his on. The both of you split ways momentarily to pick and choose, taking your time to properly decide on what you'd paint for each other.
The both of you were initially thinking of painting something cute, something you could set aside and showcase. But, you decided on practical— wanting Yunho to use something that made him think of you and vice versa.
From you, an odd-shaped mug he could use at work.
From Yunho, a dinner plate.
"A mug, hm?" You smile, sitting next to him once you grab all the paint you need to decorate his mug.
"You can use it for your coffee at home, or work. Or, both."
"Home. Home for sure. Where it's safe. I don't wanna lose it at work. I don't wanna break it, I don't want anyone to accidentally take it." You giggle, looking at the dinner plate he grabbed to paint.
"A plate?"
"I also want you to use it at home. Make it your plate. Nothing else."
"That's actually a really pretty plate." You say, looking at the flat, rimmed dining plate with raised edges.
"Thought you'd like it." Yunho smirks. "Think I don't know your taste by now?" You giggle.
The two of you begin to paint next to each other— working diligently with the paintbrush in hand. You've decided to make his mug cute by painting patterns and using different, bright colors that fall in within the perfect theme. Pinks, reds, some light blues, cream and beige. Yellows. You painted hearts, some flowers. Fruits. Cross-patterns. Anything to make the mug standout as a work of art that you painted and something that would remind Yunho of you.
Yunho, on the other hand, also tried to take a cute approach with his decorating. Although he wasn't an artist, his attempt at drawing stick figures of you, him and Seora in the middle of the plate was more than enough to make you smile. He decorated more by adding squiggly patterns, shapes and a small 'I love you' that you'd see on the upper, top ridge of the plate.
He made sure to add that last, because he hasn't exactly said it out loud yet. But, he will. He knows where he lies with his feelings. And he knows it's deep enough to glaze it down on a plate you'd eat on forever.
Yunho finishes his plate first, handing it over to the associate at the kiln before returning to you. Hurriedly, on purpose? It was interesting to see him rush over to her, though. You'll never know. You'll never know why and what your man is up to.
"Yuyu." You tug on his shirt gently as you finish up his mug.
"Hm?" He hums.
"Why don't we paint something for Seora?" He looks at you, heart eyes fully activated. His heart swelling with affection at the sight of your soft smile.
"What do you have in mind, baby?"
"Why don't we paint her that wide heart shaped ramen bowl?" You point at the bowl on the shelf. "She'll make good use of it, right?"
"Yeah, we could do that. I'll go grab it while you finish that up." Yunho stands again to speak with the associate, paying for the additional piece of pottery you two decide to paint while you hand yours off to get fired up. You and Yunho gather more paint to decorate Seora's heart-shaped bowl together, deciding to stick with something cute rather than Yunho's idea of painting it like a basketball. You laugh at his wild ideas, loving the way he always makes you laugh and giggle so effortlessly.
You and Yunho take another hour or so to paint Seora's bowl— taking your time to put in all the love and effort into something you'd want her to use, but also cherish for years to come.
You'd want her to take this with her to college and moves into her dorm. When she finds her own love and builds her own family, moves into their family home.
A keepsake.
"There." You hold it up in your palm. "I think it's done."
"Yeah. She'll love it."
"Looks great. We did great." You look at Yunho and he gives you a soft smile, kissing your forehead.
"We did. Let's go hand it off. We still have one more place to go to, remember?" You nod, standing with Yunho to hand off the bowl. After handing off the bowl to the associate, she tells you and Yunho that the pottery will be ready for pick up in about a week or two at max, and that they'll call once ready. You clean up your area and remove your aprons, grabbing your things to head out to the last destination that Seora planned for you and her father.
Clue #3 Final stop! Head to these coordinates: 37.57374643911413, 126.8752630387984 You've eaten and you've made art. Now, go somewhere nearby and look up at the sky. Count the stars and find some constellations. (P.S: I made dessert. Pls don't drop it!) Also, surprise (: This was totally not planned, and I slipped this clue in last minute. But, enjoy and have fun, lovebirds. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!
"How the hell does she know how to pull up coordinates?" Yunho pulls it up on his phone in order to get directions. "Noeul Park?"
"Noeul Park?" You repeat.
"Well, she wasn't lying. At least it isn't a far drive." He sets the car in park, heading off to the end point. "Speaking of Noeul." You snort.
"Yes?"
"How is she?"
"She's good. How's Seonghwa?"
"I don't know. Still the same little shit." You laugh, gently smacking his arm. "What? Seriously. Baby, everything he's doing, I told him not to do."
"I know, but you can't control him, babe. You know that."
"I just hope he knows what he's doing. And that he understands his feelings before he acts on it."
"Do you think he really likes Noeul?"
"I think he wants to. He hasn't gotten there."
"Hm." You hum.
"I'm not gonna lie. I do think Seonghwa is tired of messing around, and I think he's trying to settle down. He just never saw himself doing that, so he didn't know what that looked like for himself. For awhile, he probably thought that was Yoori."
"I get that."
"Then, things probably became clearer for him. And he realized it wasn't what he wanted. Which, is fine. People change. Their needs change. We're always growing and learning, and certain people end up not fitting certain categories anymore."
"Right."
"What I'm ultimately trying to say is, I just hope he's sure about his direction with Noeul. Cause I'd hate for her to get hurt. And I know he's trying, but I'm afraid he's still trying to figure himself out and he'll let that out on the wrong girl." Yunho parks his car and sighs.
"They'll be fine. I have some hope in them."
"If you do, then I do, too."
"Don't say it just because I said it, silly."
"No, no. I mean it. Again, I know he's trying and I know he has it in him." He lets out a breath and picks up the bag that's been sitting neatly on the floor. "Anyway, ready to find a good spot and eat on some dessert?" Yunho ducks down to get a better view of the sky through the windshield. "The sky is clear as day tonight. We'll get a really good view of the stars no matter where we sit."
"Yeah, let's go." You giggle.
Yunho takes your hand and leads the way through the park, trying to find a good, somewhat isolated area for you two to enjoy the rest of the evening together. You finally find a good, isolated spot— away from other groups to enjoy each other's company and peace. You lay down the blanket and take a seat, with Yunho sitting next to you comfortably. He dipped into the bag, taking out two 6-oz ramekins with perfectly made chocolate fudge cake.
"Oh, I just know she made that cake perfectly." You take one of the ramekins and spoons.
"She sure as hell got that from Eunha." You laugh.
"Cheers." You tap your ramekin against his before you start to dig into the chocolate cake Seora baked. "Yum." You hum in approval. "Wow, this is good." You dip into the gooey, chocolate center before taking another bite. "Holy shit, Yuyu. You sure your daughter doesn't wanna become a chef?"
"Well, not that I know of." He takes a big bite. "I wouldn't be mad if she wanted to be, though."
"Baby girl has talent on the court and in the kitchen." You continue to eat away at the cake, unable to put it down. "Is her championship game coming up soon?"
"Well, they've got their last playoff game coming up. If they win that, then they're off to the championships." He does a slight head tilt. "Crazy run they've had this season. It's all Seora's been
"I need to be there."
"Yeah, I know."
"Lots of things going on for her. Her birthday, the games."
"She'd appreciate you being there." You set your empty ramekin down before you look up at the sky. Would she appreciate you being there? You wouldn't be overstepping, right?
You take a minute to look up, observing the stars. There were so many dotting the sky— all shining bright, some brighter than others. Some farther than others, some clustered together. The stars in a constellation that appear close are usually distances apart, but, they still create this picture— a picture of independence, giving each other space while remaining connected.
Somehow, it reminds you of your own end goal with Yunho and Seora. Your goal of staying together like the stars above, creating a strong bond that is grounded and deeply connected— despite the 'space' or 'independence' between the three of you.
"Hey." Yunho gently nudges you. He's been examining you, staring up into the sky. Have you been counting the stars?
Have you been finding constellations? Wishing for shooting stars?
"Hm?" You hum, switching your attention back to him.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing. Just .. how much I enjoyed tonight. Thank you." You smile. "And tell Seora, I said thank you to her, too. It was such a beautifully planned out date."
"I'll tell her. We did good, huh?"
"Very."
"You know.." He looks down, a bit nervous.
"Yeah?"
"She wanted to be a part of this so badly because she wanted it to go perfectly."
"And it did."
"But, she wanted it to go perfectly because she didn't want to lose you." He says softly. "She didn't want any of this to go wrong. She wanted a well-thought out date because she didn't wanna lose you."
"She said that?" You look at him, surprised. You knew your relationship with Seora had progressed after she had gotten her period, but somehow, hearing this from Yunho still felt unreal. You were still trying to tread carefully, even though you knew you couldn't hold back forever. But, you cherished Seora. You wanted to keep your relationship with her as good as possible. You wanted to be good for her as you could possibly be.
You aren't perfect. No one is.
But, you could try and do your best.
You didn't want to mess anything up and lose her, too. You were afraid you already did.
"She did. Why do you think she did this?" Yunho chuckles. "Again, besides the fact that we wanted to plan a good, fun date for you."
"She's so sweet."
"She's opening up to you. I hope you know that. I think after that whole thing with her period, she .. felt like she could lean on you. Like she could trust you."
"That's all I wanted." You respond, close to a whisper. "I never wanted her to feel like I was replacing her mom, or like I was taking you away from her."
"Of course, baby."
"That's never the intention."
"I know and she knows, now. It doesn't mean you don't add value to our lives, though. Look at what you did for her when she needed you. And after that, you continued to check in with her and bring her things. All she talked about was the next time she'd see you, or that shopping date you'd go on with her for birthday. All she looked for was you." You smile, looking down at your lap. "I can't thank you enough for being there for her."
"Always." Yunho can't even express how grateful he is to have found you. He'll never get over it. He'll never get over the fact that he has felt so lucky since he met you. And now that Seora was opening up to you, his worlds were colliding— making him feel more and more complete. He brushes the hair behind your ear before kissing the side of your head, bringing you close to his side. The two of you take a little more time to sit under the night sky in silence before Yunho figures it's a good time to call it a night. He looks down at you with his own constellation in his eyes, like Perseus and Andromeda.
"Ready to head home?"
"Yeah. Let's." You look up at him, sharing the same constellation and feelings.
There are unspoken words, things you mainly want to say out loud; lay out the next foundation for your relationship with Yunho. But, at the same time, you feel like words don't need to be said. Maybe, you two can just bask in this feeling— Or, maybe, words aren't enough to capture what you're feeling. What he's feeling. What this moment feels like.
Words won't ever be enough.
That's why when you and Yunho get home, you quietly slip out of your shoes, but Yunho is quick to pull you into his arms— cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in for a deep kiss. You let out a soft whimper as his tongue works against yours in a sweet, slow dance. Your hands fall to his sides, gripping his shirt to keep you steady while the both of you stand in the doorway.
Tangled in the heat of the moment; a moment when words won't be enough, but actions would be the best way to show you just exactly how he feels.
He couldn't wait during the entire drive home and he couldn't help himself stepping into the house. He felt an overwhelming sense of affection and desire take over him the more he replayed tonight's events in his head. The more he glanced over at you in the passenger's seat. The more he laid kisses on your hand, pictured you walking comfortably in their home, their space. Pictured your things taking up space in his room. Your shoes in the walkway. Toiletries in the bathroom.
"Fuck." He huffs in between. You gently nip at his bottom lip, pulling back to tease him. "Need you. Now." Yunho lifts you up in one swift motion, letting you wrap your legs around his waist— your arms around his neck. The kiss continues just as hot and heavy, but this time, a little messy. Yunho tries to make his way to the room as quickly and safely as possible, almost stumbling over his own feet when he kicks his door open.
He can't even wait to get to the bed; he barely manages to get there before placing you on his lap like you've always belonged there. His large hands roam up your shirt, eager to get it off.
And like the first time, things escalate quick.
Shirts off.
Pants off, panties off. Boxers off.
Everything off.
Nothing but you, him. Raw, genuine emotions. Feelings.
Yunho kept you perched on his lap as his hands continued to roam your body— lips trailing a tender path over your skin as he leaves kisses on your cheek, jaw, neck. His hands were slow, gentle, almost worshipful with his touch. He gave your breast a firm squeeze, cause you to arch your back slightly— goosebumps rising to the surface of your skin. Yunho's lips lazily grazed down your neck and chest, teeth nipping at the surface wherever it could touch.
"God, you're so beautiful." He whispers against your skin.
"Yu." Yu whimper, threading your fingers through his hair. Giving it a gentle tug. His lips find their way back up to yours, pulling you into another kiss just as you start to slowly grind against him. He moans, having to pull away for a second to look you in the eye.
"Tease. Don't play with me."
"I'm not." He tuts, his thumb coming down to rub at your clit— making you bit your lip and tilt your head back in pleasure. "Oh—" You mewl.
"So wet for me already. Why are you playing around?" He says deeply near your ear.
"I'm not." He adds a little more pressure to your clit.
"Then, what are we waiting for, hm? Ride me." He groans a bit. "Want you to ride me." You moan at his demand. He watched as you finally hovered over him, lining him up at your entrance. His eyes meet yours just as you slowly sink down on his length— a moan releasing from your lips.
"Oh, god." You breathe out as you continue to take him all the way in. Yunho has no idea what the hell to do with himself right now. He doesn't know if he'll ever get over this feeling. This feeling of you, of you being wrapped around him, of being inside you— god, it feels like fucking heaven. Like he's seeing stars all over again.
"Yeah, baby. That's it." He brushes your hair back before his hands fall to your hips, guiding them to rock against him at a slow, steady pace. "That's a good girl." You let out another whimper, still trying to adjust to the feeling of him inside you; making you feel so damn full.
"Want you to feel good." You murmur against his lips, picking up your pace against him. Just enough, not too much. Just right.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
"I do. I always do with you." He murmurs before locking your lips into another heated kiss. He moans into it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Goddamn. So tight." You wrap your arms around him tightly as you whine, continuing to ride him at the steady pace you've maintained. Yunho continues to chase after your lips for more kisses, guiding you to move rougher, faster, against him. The noises in his room begin to sound nothing short of filthy— his bed beginning to creak beneath you from the new intensity, your mixed moans, your kisses.
"Yunho." You moan, tryng to maintain your composure as he continues to dictate your pace.
"Just like that." Yunho groans. "Keep going just like that." He gives your ass a good grip before he's guiding you to add a slight bounce to it. He begins to work his hips in tandem with yours, creating more friction.
"You're gonna make me—"
"Yeah?" He moans breathily. "Give it to me, baby. Let me feel you come."
"Oh my god." You whine, back to rolling your hips fast, rough— just the way Yunho likes it— "Yunho—" You repeat.
"Mhm." He nods, egging you on. "Right there. Like that?"
"Mm'right there—" You nod.
"Come for me." He hisses, holding himself together by a very thin thread. He doesn't know how much longer he has, but he wants you to finish first. Suddenly, you feel an overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over you. You could barely get a grip on it before you let out a strangled moan— your entire body going still before it trembles in his grip from the orgasm that ripples through. "Good girl, baby. There she is." Yunho praises as he continues to jut his hips upwards; still pounding his cock into you to chase his own high. You continue to whine and whimper as you work through your aftershocks until you hear Yunho let out deep, guttural groans into the crook of your neck. He thrusts up into you until he finishes— his thrusts turning lazy when he tries to make sure every last drop of his release spills into you.
"God, Yunho." You pant as he rubs circles on your back to soothe you.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just .. spent, now." You admit, making him chuckle. There's a small pause before he turns his face towards you.
"Hey, love?"
"Yeah, Yuyu?"
"I love you." He whispered in your ear, causing you to pause. Did you hear that right? As if he read your mind, he pressed another kiss below your ear— repeating those exact same words. "I love you, baby."
"I love you, too."
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taglist pt. 2: @jyoon-ahgatiny @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @moonlight-hwa @raicecakes-and-buldak @civeua @offeret @enhamysunshines @ari-nicole @fixonyo @gojonish @gyusbabydoll @ayayaeyato @ateezswonderland
Coming Over
Prompt: You go to visit Yunho on a very short notice due to having a bad day and he melts your frustrations very fast. He's playing with his friends but he wants to play with you<3
General tags: fluff, slightly suggestive at one point, established relationship, yunho gamer, no gendered reader
Word count: 2.7k
You are overwhelmed. So overwhelmed. Work was more stressful than usual, it seemed like the entire world was turned upside-down, all the customers you encountered today were in a bad mood, in some way or another, which also put you in a bad mood and have been on edge since your shift started. And when your shift finally ended, it started raining, and you got a text from your parents, letting you know that more relatives came over. Normally you would be able to put up a front and deal with them, but not now.
‘Are you home?’ you quickly text your boyfriend Yunho, right after texting your parents that you already made plans. You were not getting home tonight.
Ten minutes passed by and no reply from your boyfriend, the rain calmed down a little though. You start making your way towards your boyfriend’s house, which is fairly close to the place you work at.
As you get closer to his house, starting to see it in the distance, you let out a relieved breath as you finally get a text back. ‘Yes. Why? Something happened?’ is his reply. He’s probably playing with his friends. Now that you think about it, he did tell you that he planned this gaming night in advance and you are about to bother him. But you felt like you were about to explode if anything else went bad. Your clothes stuck to your skin due to the rain and it frustrated you so bad and all you wanted was to be a bit selfish and hug your boyfriend. ‘I’m coming over, I’m sorry.’ is the last thing you text as you shove your phone in your tote bag and reach his house, ringing his bell and waiting, the door opens a few seconds later and you are pulled inside by your wrists.
You are pulled into a tight hug, your face tightly pressed into Yunho’s chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You just took in his scent and presence, listened to his heartbeat as you calmed down. It was insane how fast Yunho was able to calm you down and ground you.
“I’m sorry I came unannounced, but I really needed you.” you are the one to break the silence. One of his hands goes up and down your back while the other is still around your shoulders. Yunho slightly pulls back to look you in the eyes and smiles at you, bending a little and kissing your forehead. He was wearing his glasses. You love it when he wears them.
“Don’t be sorry, princess. I always love having you over, you know that. Just let me end the call with the guys, and I can give you all of my attention, yeah?” Yunho says as he takes your hand into his and starts walking towards his room. Him cancelling his plans is exactly what you didn't want him to do.
You firmly plant the heels of your feet into the ground and he turns around, once again facing you, with a confused puppy-like expression on his face. “You are not going to cancel your plans because of me. I know you've been looking forward to playing with them. I don't mind just being in the room with you while you do your thing. Your presence is all I need.” you say as you play with his fingers.
“It's really no problem, princess. Let me take care of you.” Yunho insists as he takes one step closer to you, but you take one back, to keep the distance and in a way threatening him. “If you cancel your plans I will go home. I don't care if it's still raining or that I will catch a cold.” you verbally threaten and you look at him with wide eyes and a serious expression. He knows you are not joking.
Yunho lets out a defeated sigh and pulls you into another hug. “You are so stubborn sometimes, you know?” he says and then proceeds to kiss your head. “Learned from the best! Now go back to your game, I will just take a hot shower and then stay in your room.” you say as you peck his lips once and then push him into his room and then on the chair that was sitting in front of the desk, seeing on the monitors the ongoing game waiting for him.
You turn on your heels to go and pick some clothes you left at his house for moments like these, but Yunho has other plans and grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap. You are now straddling him, your forehead pressed together. He loses no time and he pulls you into a kiss that quickly turns heated, as his tongue slowly licks your lips, urging you to open them, which you do eagerly. One of your hands finds its way into Yunho’s blonde hair while the other one comfortably rests on his neck, feeling his pulse picking up, all while his hands were resting on your ass and your tongues were taking turns in exploring each other’s mouths.
As you were about to start moving your hips, he pulled away and let his head fall on the headrest of the chair, both of you having your breaths heavy, his glasses being slightly foggy in the inner side of it. However, his neck being so exposed as it was, made you connect your lips to his jaw, placing kisses up to his ear and then down his neck, taking your sweet time into worshipping every inch of that sensitive skin, earning some groans from his part.
He cups your face and pushes your face back slightly so he could look you in the eye. His cheeks were a slight shade of pink, but his ears were bright red. His mouth was slightly open and his hot breath was fanning your face. He was the most beautiful person you have ever seen. He always was and always will be.
“Go take that shower before I cancel my plans.” he says in a low voice, his stare piercing right through you. You wish you could be selfish and ask him to cancel his plans without feeling guilty about it, but Yunho’s in-game character doing his idle animations while waiting to be controlled and the faint voices of his friends that you could hear from the headset on the desk just made it impossible for you to ask that of him. You nod and get off his lap, heading towards his closet and he sits properly in front of the desk and puts the headphones on his head, starting back the call he was on.
“Sorry it took so long, I had something to take care of but I’m back now.” Yunho says as he places one of his hands over the mouse and the other over the keyboard. You rummage in Yunho’s closet until you find the clothes he always has ready for you, a pair of sweats and one of his white plain shirts. You take a towel and head to the bathroom.
Finally a hot shower.
***
Once you were clean, warm and most importantly, dry, you were starting to feel much better. You re-enter Yunho’s room and he was in the same position you left him earlier, but wearing different clothes, as you dampened up the clothes he was wearing earlier. Yunho is in front of his computer, hands on mouse and keyboard and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, however there was a very concentrated expression painting his features, his bottom lip trapped tightly between his teeth. God he is so cute.
While passing by next to him to reach his bed, you lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek that causes his features to soften all of a sudden and he gives you a huge smile.
“Feeling better?” Yunho asks while still looking at the screen, but removing his headphones from one ear. You sit on his bed and just hum, to which he nods and puts back his headset.
You grab your phone and so the mindless scrolling on various social media platforms begins.
You would look over at your boyfriend every time he would let out any sound such as a gasp or a groan of frustration and you would smile. At times you could even hear Wooyoung’s voice escaping from Yunho’s headphones.
Wooyoung, the person you are most grateful for as he introduced you to Yunho. When he said he has a friend he’s gaming with that he thinks you’d get along with, you didn’t really know what to think of it, but you still agreed to him setting up a blind date for the two of you, and you couldn’t be more thankful.
You and Yunho just clicked right away. There was no moment of awkwardness between the two of you, maybe because he can handle conversations so well. But it’s been a little over eight months since the two of you started dating and things are going more than great.
One of the first things you talked about were your love languages, debating who has what love language, and while he could give and receive love in each and every way (true puppy behaviour), you on the other hand were only really okay with anything but gift receiving and acts of service at times, mainly because you were so overfilled with guilt whenever Yunho did something for you out of the kindness of his heart or whenever he got you something only because it reminded him of you. But you were working on it. Yunho was patiently rewiring and changing your perception of love, making it a healthy one.
This wasn’t the first time you came over on a short notice while he was gaming or doing other things, and usually you are okay with just being near his presence while each of you do your thing, but this time you wanted him close. This time quality time was just not enough. You want his undivided attention and his arms around your body while you talk about nothing and everything. But you also don’t want him to end his plans early.
And then you get the genius idea.
You tap into the notepad app on your phone and start typing a quick message so he isn’t too confused.
‘Can I sit on your lap please? I need you close:c’
You get out of bed and make small steps in his direction, and once you are next to him you slide the phone in his sight and he quickly reads the note and then looks up at you with a surprised face that quickly turns into a huge smile. “Give me a second guys, I need to go to the bathroom.” says Yunho into his headset and then mutes himself, takes off his headset and stands up, pulling you into his chest for a big hug and you are quick to wrap your arms around his waist.
“Is my princess needy? Is my presence not enough?” he says in a playful and teasing tone, using your words from earlier against you, and you get embarrassed, hiding your face further into his chest, inhaling his scent. “Nope, I was wrong. Need you close.” you reply simply and he chuckles. He takes a step back and takes your hands into his, caressing your hands with his thumbs.
“You sure you don’t want me to end the call? The guys won’t mind, I promise you.” Yunho says while tilting his head to the side, giving you a soft smile. But you don’t fall for it, you are not backing down. With one of your arms still clinging to his waist you bring the other close to his face and adjust his glasses that were close to the tip of your nose. “Yes I’m sure. Just let me stay next to you please.”
He looks down at you, straight into your eyes and you can visibly see him weigh his options. “Two more rounds and then I’m leaving the call, I’m starting to get tired of it and I wanna spend more time with my princess. I’ve been playing with them for the past four hours.” Yunho says as he gives you his best puppy eyes, pouting while looking at you through his glasses. Your biggest weakness: fluffy hair and glasses.
“Deal.” you say after a long sigh and he smiles brightly, leaning into a kiss, a quick one, ending after placing a few fast pecks over your lips.
Yunho sits back on his chair and turns it towards you, making room for you. You carefully place your legs on each side and then sit, slithering your arms around his waist and placing your head on his shoulder, Yunho’s head resting against yours for a bit before straightening it again.
Yunho then drags the chair back in front of the desk and puts on his headset, unmuting himself and continuing the game he was playing, from now on being more considerate before making any sudden moves or saying anything in a louder voice. Your heart hurts from the love you have for him, the little things making your love for him grow greater. How his arms would hug you tighter whenever he died in game or had a few seconds of nothing happening, how he placed small quick kisses on your neck or shoulder, taking you off guard and making you blush.
You turn your head so you could face his neck this time and you look up at him between your eyelashes. The angle was a bit weird and would make anyone look not that great, but Yunho was still so beautiful. His blonde hair looked very fluffy and messy, his glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of his nose, bottom lip still trapped between his teeth as his concentrated brown eyes were stuck on the screen monitor. You place a kiss on his neck and see him smile slightly, seeing as he was trying to focus on the game, but he still died and was now on cooldown to respawn. You mute and deafen his mic quickly and he turns to look at you, kissing the tip of your nose which makes you smile.
“I love you, my Yuyu. Thank you for having me over.” you say as you tighten your hug, feeling as if you will never be able to show him just how much you love him actually. Words are never enough, any physical contact is never enough, nothing will ever be enough to make him understand and see how much you love him and that frustrates you.
“I love you more princess, more than you can imagine.” Yunho replies as he adjusts your hair with one hand, ending up caressing your cheek as you lean into his touch.
Before Yunho gets to respawn he sees the losing screen on the game so he unmutes and undeafen himself, being able to hear his friends complaining over yet another loss, which you find endearing to some extent and you giggle, hiding your face into Yunho’s chest so they wouldn’t hear you.
Yunho closes the game before they get to invite him to another one. “This game fucking sucks. I’m logging out for the day, you guys have fun. See you next week at the same time, bye.” he replies, rushing, not giving any of them the chance to stop him or to try and convince him to stay for one more game. He leaves the discord call and takes off his headset and glasses, leaning back into the chair and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in. You stay like that for a while, with you still on top of him, hugging him tightly and hearing his heartbeat, one of his hands going up and down your back. You find yourself smiling at the comfort and security Yunho brings you.
He suddenly stands up which makes you yelp, circling his waist with your legs this time, your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Yunho laughs and places a kiss on your cheek.
“Now, how about we play something, hmm?” Yunho says as he slowly and carefully lays you on the bed, placing his palms on either side of your head to hold his weight so he wouldn’t squish you.
You smile and bring your hands to the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss.
A/N: i was like 'man i should write things w the other members as well!' and then i got this fic idea with yunho... anyway soon other members as well i hope!
if u have any like prompts in mind please dont hesitate to send them my way and i will try my best to write them!
Sorting through my likes and came across this... one of the. first yunho fics i read i still love it to this day
The trace of you
Author: bvidzsoo
Pairing: psychiatrist!Jeong Yunho x patient!female reader
ꕤ Warning: bullying, mistreatment, ptsd, mentions of insanity & abuse, mental health talks, psychiatric diagnose, unethical thoughts and actions ꕤ Word count: 25.1k ꕤ Rating: mature ꕤ Genre: dated around the late 1800's, psychiatrist x patient, lots of yearning, mutual pinning, forbidden love, inspired by Alias Grace, angst ꕤ Summary: Being caged inside your home for a wrongdoing you can't even remember seems to not have the effect people have been expecting. With the arrival of a foreign doctor with studies unheard of before, your life takes a new turn. Will Doctor Jeong prove your innocence, or will he fall into your web like everyone else? Are you sane, or is he just as insane as his patients?
A/N: Helloo, my lovelies! ^^ Wrapping up this story took way too long due to me having some unplanned health issues that are still (?) kicking my ass...anyways, keep in mind while you're reading this that there are probably historical inaccuracies to this story, especially to South Korean history that I briefly read through when constructing Yunho character's background. The dresses MC wears also aren't the most accurate, but I hope you can look past that and imagine instead whatever you'd like. I watched the mini-series Alias Grace and was rather inspired by it, so you will find similarities to it within this story. I am no medical professional, so the diagnosis MC is given might be inaccurate even though I have taken my time to research these things. Let me know if I should tag anything else as a warning, and I really hope you enjoy this story as I have tried making it a bit different. Let me know your thoughts about it, I am always excited to read your feedback! <3 Oh, and, I hope Santa brings you something sweet tonight, this is my not so small present for you all! ^^ divider
The old clock’s ticking seemed to only get louder by the second. The sheer curtains were pulled to the side to allow more sunlight inside the tea room, the grand doors opened to let in the late fresh summer breeze. The white hydrangeas lining the paths leading towards the back garden were gorgeous and carried a strong scent with them, I could smell it from my spot on the soft faded pink cushion of the sofa brought all the way from France. The tea room had been remodelled not long ago. There was something about it that gave old cottage vibes, but it has now been upgraded to a more fashionable Parisian feel. It was pretty, with hues of light peach and a darker coral, however, I used to like more the cosy feeling of the sage green and baby blue colours that had decorated the room once. Karina liked it more this way, she had said something about the lighter colours giving the impression of a bigger room. I did not understand why the tea room was required to look grander than it already was, but I didn’t question her judgment. It was best if I didn’t, not out loud, at least.
The servants were quietly waiting outside the room as my mother paced in front of us, Karina perched on a fancy chair with an abandoned book in her hands. I knew the ticking of the old clock and the silence was driving her mad, but I remained silent as I gazed forward, eyes on the gravel path. I longed to walk in the meadow close to our house, but I wasn’t allowed to roam around on my own. Even inside my own home, I was under constant surveillance. The doctors have said it was for my own sake, but it felt like I was in a continuous cage. It was suffocative, I couldn’t sleep some nights due to it, not even after drinking Mrs. Humphrey’s delicious camomile tea. My last hope resided in summer, in the warm breeze that kissed my cold skin, everything a lush green where I looked, to keep me sane. As sane as it could, since I was deemed a madwoman long ago.
Unlike the others who hired chauffeurs and dated carriages with old horses, this doctor arrived by a fancy patent motorcar. It wasn’t him driving it, at least the servants had whispered that to each other, but his long wool coat looked expensive too. My mother finally stopped pacing and Karina sighed in irritation when there was a knock at the front door. One maid stepped forward and opened the door for the doctor, gently greeting him. I couldn’t hear his voice, I was trying to catch the song of the birds outside, but I could feel the shift in the air. It was warmer inside as if the sun had stepped through our threshold. It warmed my skin like none other. Finally, the doctor was led towards the tea room, my back to him as my lips moved in a whispered song that comforted me. If I ignored the coil of my stomach and the sheen layer of sweat over my brows, I could convince myself that I was fine. That whoever came to check on me wasn’t another vicious man eager to torture a damned soul like mine.
“My apologies, ma’am, I am unfamiliar with these roads.” The man’s voice was deep yet soft, like honey, thick but inoffensive. At least if I told myself that, it calmed my rapid heartbeat. As I continued sitting rigidly, my fingers wrung together, the tremors never disappeared. It was something natural, the other doctors have concluded, something they couldn’t fix about me. Another thing they couldn’t fix about me. It was fine, I knew I had been damned a long time ago.
“Oh, it is no issue, we are glad you made it, Doctor.” My mother’s voice was filled with deep relief as the crease between her brows finally disappeared, hands locked behind her back as she rushed towards the entrance. Karina was surprisingly silent, but her expression spoke volumes. Her eyes had widened and her mouth had parted, fingers barely clutching the book in her hands anymore. I gulped, trying to steady my irregular breathing. I knew what was coming, the same questions and objects this doctor, too, would use to check my stability. I dreaded it all, I wanted to scream and throw a vase and make it shatter against the ground, but I would only be deemed even crazier. My eyes shook when I heard footsteps approach, heavier than those of my mother or Karina, it was the man. The Doctor. He was coming further inside, I could feel his eyes trained on my nape, no doubt curious and with a glint madder in his eyes than in mine, here to dissect me, pick me apart just to never fix me. I saw polished black shoes stop before me, and the lump in my throat almost made it impossible to speak up.
“Miss Harold, my name is Doctor Jeong Yunho.” Then, unlike any other doctor had done, this one’s knees bent until he was crouching in front of me, looking at me. His eyes were round and kind, a dark brown unlike my icy ones, and they were filled with warmth and softness I hadn’t seen in any other man. His nose had a perfect slope and his fair skin was sun-kissed, the apple of his cheeks a rosy red. His lips weren’t too big but pouty and full, asking to be traced gently by soft fingertips. I shuddered, completely taken aback by his youth and beauty. The man was from faraway lands, yet judging by his speech, you couldn’t tell until you saw him. He was gorgeous, he was breathtaking, “Would you feel safe if it was just the two of us in this room?”
No, I wanted to scream. My fingers tightened against each other, I gulped and hesitantly nodded, our eyes spilling into each other’s as if a spell had them locked together. His features were serene and sincere, not a frown on his beautiful face to create creases, just a soft smile pulling at his lips. It was disarming and frightening at the same time. Then, the doctor smiled even wider as he stood back up, his height intimidating. My heart raced as I watched him, unable to take my eyes off him. And he was still looking at me as he spoke up, “If you could excuse us, I’d like to speak to Miss Harold in privacy. It won’t take long, I promise. I’m only here today to familiarise myself with her.”
“Good, yes, Doctor, whatever you need.” My mother sounded reassured as she gripped Karina’s arm, yanking her out of the tea room as she seemingly didn’t want to go. Her eyes were fixed on Doctor Jeong, and her cheeks were blushed, “Would you like a cup of tea before we leave?”
“No, but thank you, Mrs. Harold.” The doctor hummed, his voice warm, as he sat across from me. He had no leather tool bag, nothing. He only carried a ragged satchel bag, a dark green with patches made to it, and it seemed mostly empty. My heart couldn’t settle down, not yet. Maybe his tools were hidden in the pockets of his long black coat. He hadn’t taken it off, and he looked like he wasn’t planning on staying for long. I couldn’t decide whether that thought reassured or unsettled me even more. Silence stretched on as we stared at each other, my throat dry, but I made no moves to drink from my fine China cup. I gulped when the doctor finally moved, reaching inside his bag. Here it came, the torture for the next hours, he was just like all those other doctors. I could feel tears prick at my eyes and my chest felt on fire, my lungs constricting, but the world seemed to stop moving when the man finally retracted his hand from inside his ragged bag. He held no tool to harm me, instead, a slightly withering daisy was gripped daintily between his long fingers.
“I plucked this for you on my way here, Miss Harold.” The doctor spoke, leaning forward to extend his hand towards me. A daisy, from a man like him. A man who felt like the sun itself, warming my cold particles, how unusual. When I did not move to take it from him, his happy expression seemed to fall slightly. Before he could feel more disappointment, I quickly leaned forward and grabbed it from his hand. Our fingertips brushed for a second and the doctor gulped, loudly. I loved wearing my copper hair in a simple bun, lined with fresh daisies. How coincidental that I had made myself a daisy crown just this morning, and now, the doctor had brought one for me. It would’ve been endearing if it was from a suitor, but I haven’t had one since I was sent to the asylum.
“Everything has a price, Doctor, what must I offer in exchange for this?” I found my voice, less shaky than I had expected. My insides were twisting in every possible direction, my heart hammering so fast it made me feel lightheaded. I wondered whether I’d remember the doctor tomorrow morning still. It wouldn’t be the first time I experienced sudden memory loss.
The doctor frowned, sitting back on the couch stiffly, “Perhaps, your honesty? Will you answer my questions?”
“Will you measure my head and poke at my skin like all those other doctors?”
“No, I’m not here to physically evaluate you. I’m here to glance inside your mind.”
“That unsettles me more than getting cut open to determine whether my blood is still red or not.”
“Had they done that to you?”
“Yes, you should rather ask what had they not done to me, Doctor Jeong.”
The doctor gulped, his dark eyebrows pulled together now and his lips downturned. He fished for something in his pocket, and a small pair of spectacles were placed low on his nose. It made him look more mature, more serious. I wondered if he wore it so that the other doctors would take him seriously, or whether because his eyesight wasn’t the best.
“I won’t cut you open, Miss Harold, I won’t even touch you during my examinations.” My heart skipped a beat despite hammering uncomfortably against my chest, and I wondered why. His words, however, did bring a little comfort.
“How will you determine what is wrong with me, then?” I raised my eyebrows, my fingers popping when I released the tension from them. I laid my palms flatly against my sage green dress, and the doctor’s eyes fleetingly glanced at them.
“By talking, by listening to your stories and thoughts.” The doctor spoke of a practice I hadn’t heard of before, “If you trust me, that is, your secrets will be safe with me.”
“Will they be?” I smiled, a little ashen, “The committee will want to hear what I said, there are no secrets we can keep with each other, Doctor Jeong.”
The doctor hummed, an almost amused smile pulling at his lips, “My profession requires me not to disclose anything personal, so, even if the committee wants to hear it, I won’t relay our conversations word for word, Miss Harold.”
I gulped, analysing the man’s face. He looked sincere, his eyebrows didn’t twitch and he wasn’t sweating despite the coat still around him. It was summer, and it was warm outside, albeit not inside the tea room, that is why the grand doors were opened to let the warmth in. This room reflected a lot about how I felt on the inside, always cold and hollow, waiting desperate for the warm sun to fill me up with its hotness until it burned me away. I wanted to burn, I wanted to be freed of all I had to endure until now.
“You need my honesty, but are you willing to be transparent with me?” My question seemed to take the doctor off guard as his eyes momentarily widened. Then, he clasped his long fingers together and placed his arms on his thighs, leaning forward in his seat.
“As long as it helps us move forward and remains professional, I can be transparent with you, Miss Harold.”
“You must’ve read the reports about me, do you think I’m mad, Doctor Jeong?”
“Isn’t everyone a little mad, Miss Harold?”
“I don’t know, you are the doctor between the two of us, Doctor Jeong.”
“Indeed, and I claim that nobody is without faults or sins.”
“Then you must be a religious person, no?”
“My profession contradicts my beliefs, yes, but I do believe there is something stronger and greater than us, Miss Harold. If we ask for forgiveness, we shall be pardoned.”
“Father Leon would love to have you at his service, Doctor Jeong.”
The doctor chuckled, a small smile settling over his lips as I realised I hadn’t looked away from the man since he had sat down on the couch. That was news. I never looked anyone in the eyes, as I didn’t feel comfortable. I had been told by previous doctors that they could see straight to my soul, my wicked mind and rottenness in the blueness of my irises. Now I never looked long enough to let them see what was inside my eyes, but this doctor didn’t seem to be afraid of me, of what he might find inside my eyes. Could he not see the darkness of my soul? Or was his faith so strong he preferred to spot the brightness before he was proven wrong by the wicked that permeated those like myself?
“Do you believe in God?” Doctor Jeong’s voice was louder than before, more filled with emotion as if my answer was crucial to him.
“I suppose I must. Everyone says the devil was the one to make me act like this, and I wonder where had God gone to let the devil do this to me.” Doctor Jeong’s cheeks became a darker colour as he licked his lips, mouth parting, but no words left it. I hummed, placing my right hand over my left one. Doctor Jeong wore one single band of silver ring on his middle finger on his right hand. He couldn’t have been married, then, I concluded.
“Perhaps you’ll find an answer to your question once I have done my job here.” Doctor Jeong’s tone caught a solemn note, but I said nothing as he grabbed his satchel bag and adjusted the collar of his white shirt. I watched the motion, eyes glued to the fair skin of his neck even as the man stood. His ears were flushing red too, I wondered why. I suppose the summer warmth had gotten to him at last.
“You are leaving already, doctor?” I asked as I looked up, standing when I realised he was about to depart. My mother had raised me with good manners, I would have even walked him to the front door if it weren’t for Karina suddenly barging inside, her jawline set tight as she sent me a fierce look of displeasure.
“Eager to have him all to yourself, sister?” Karina’s voice dripped with venom as she rushed further inside, rudely grabbing the doctor’s arm. What if he didn’t want to be touched? Karina lacked the awareness to consider that for a second. The doctor remained silent as he looked between me and Karina, and I just chuckled, looking down to the floor.
“I already have him all to myself, no need to be eager about it too.” The forced smile on Karina’s face would’ve satisfied me, but now I wanted both her and the doctor gone from my sight. My heart was racing again and I couldn’t breathe well, the tremors of my hands would’ve made me spill my tea if I were to drink from it. Perhaps Matilda could accompany me around the gardens, I wished to become one with nature for the remainder of the day.
“I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Harold.” Doctor Jeong bowed his head slightly before he let himself be dragged away by Karina, who sent me a glare that would’ve scared anyone else but me. I let them leave as I crumbled back onto the sofa, suddenly feeling faint. I couldn’t decide whether the doctor would pick my mind apart or not, and it was scarier that I had no idea how he’d do it.
The air felt oppressive and thick, yet I could see the doctor’s motorcar approaching in the distance. Matilda had been kind enough to accompany me on my walk around the gardens, but she had rushed me back inside the tea room when my mother sent a butler to alert us that the doctor was fast approaching. Now, sitting on a chair by the open grand doors, I could see the dark clouds gathering around in the distance. It was as if they were trying to chase the doctor away, but he kept approaching until the motorcar's engine died down and his heavy footsteps echoed around the house. There was a knock at the door as my eyes watched a small white bird on a branch of a tree, my mind absent. The heavy footsteps approached further inside, and I turned my head to look up at the doctor.
“Hello, Miss Harold.” He said with an easy smile on his lips, holding his satchel bag in both hands. He didn’t wear a coat today, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. His nape was sweaty as the top buttons were unbuttoned. The heat had finally gotten to him, it could get rather cruel in this part of the county.
“Hello, Doctor Jeong.” The smile came easily to my face. Despite only meeting him yesterday, my heart wasn’t racing like before. Perhaps it was the absence of his leather tool bag and the fact that the man was so young and innocent-looking. Before we could proceed, however, there was a knock at the door.
“Doctor Jeong,” Karina’s unmistakable voice called out with a shake to it, “Would you like some tea before you start your…examination?”
“The heat is already killing me, but thank you.” He declined with a gentle flick of his wrist, yet Karina lingered in the doorway. She was only looking at the doctor, her favourite dress ironed out and tightly cinched at the waist. I turned in my seat and watched her with amusement. She wasn’t subtle at all.
“May I help you?” The doctor asked, sounding confused as Karina stood still and slightly jumped, looking down abashed.
“No, I’m sorry.” Then she finally departed, closing the door behind her as Doctor Jeong had asked. I slowly looked up at the handsome doctor, finding his eyes with ease as his spectacles were close to slipping off his nose again.
“Won’t you sit, Doctor?” I pointed towards the chair, which was placed a decent distance away from mine, just by the other door. The breeze had picked up into a strong wind now, it blew inside and rattled the sheer curtains. I welcomed it with closed eyes while the doctor settled in, the rustling of paper caught my attention as I slowly fluttered my eyes open once again. It was silent for a second as I looked at the doctor, who was already watching me. His pouty lips were parted and his ears seemed to be red. As my eyes travelled all over his fair skin, I noticed the glint of something silver underneath his white shirt. It appeared to be a necklace, and once he leaned forward to retrieve a pencil from his satchel bag, I spotted a silver cross hanging off it. He really was a believer, then.
“Did you want to sit here?” The doctor asked as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other. I hummed, clasping my hands together in my lap as the tremors slightly subsided. My heart was at ease, it finally wasn’t frantic like during breakfast and my walk in the gardens.
“Yes, I find nature most beautiful during this time,” I answered the doctor, turning my head to gaze at the white hydrangeas. Their scent was so strong I could almost taste it in my mouth.
“So, you like storms, Miss Harold?” The doctor asked and I chuckled, turning my head away when there was lightning in the distance.
“No, doctor, I’m terrified of storms.” I smiled as the doctor paused, he was jotting down my words in his notebook, I came to realise. He quirked an eyebrow, so I continued, “My father died saving me after I had fallen off the ship, the storm was terrible.”
The doctor hummed, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as he quickly noted what I had just said, “Are you afraid of water, then?”
“No,” I shook my head, our eyes meeting and staying locked as if we had been hypnotised by each other, “I’m only afraid of the destruction a storm can cause, even on land.”
“Have you seen many of those?”
“Yes, our neighbours’ barn was destroyed just last month, it was terrible.”
“Have you helped him?”
“As much as a woman can help, yes, I offered them my servants to help rebuild the barn.”
“Then you’re caring.”
“I suppose, if you say so, Doctor.”
“Do you not consider yourself a caring person, Miss Harold?” I smiled, watching the doctor’s expression even out as his pencil pressed a hole into the thin paper of his notebook.
“As a doctor, do you care for your patients?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious since I hadn’t met anyone like him. If he dissected the mind, he must care for his patients, no?
“Within the limitations of my oath and law, yes, I do care for them.” Then the doctor seemed to consider his next words, licking his lips as his eyes bore into mine. They were wide and dark, and it was easy to get lost in them, “All I wish is to do is find a cure for them, to see them walk free of their shackles.”
“Can you cure madness, Doctor Jeong?” My voice sounded small, almost afraid. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed as he averted his eyes, messily scribbling something down in his notebook. As I peeked at it, I realised the alphabet I was familiar with blended with one I did not know. Perhaps it was his mother tongue, then.
“Every person has a trigger, Miss Harold, if I find yours, I can cure it.” Then, he bit his bottom lip, and the added words were silent, “If you’ll let me.”
Silence stretched on, and I felt my heart race for the first time since I had seen the doctor today. It was unsettling, I felt my cheeks warm up. The redness from the doctor’s ears seemed to spread down towards his neck and chest, I wondered if his skin was as smooth as it looked at first glance. Then, without considering my next words, I let the truth slip past my chapped lips.
“I want to be free, sir, I don’t want to live like this for the rest of my life.” I had been young when I was convicted. My fate could have been much worse, but the men my father had been once acquittanced with owed him one, so they came to my aid. My sentence was very generous, the judge deemed me mad and unfit to be locked up in a women’s penitentiary, and instead, I was bound to constant surveillance for the rest of my life. Even when I slept, Matilda was there with me. Or my mother when the maid was too tired to continue keeping watch.
The doctor wetted his lips again, leaning slightly forward in his seat. The pencil was clutched tightly between his long fingers, and his tone had dropped lower too, “I can rid you of your burden if you’re honest with me, Miss Harold, I can set you free. But for that, you have to tell me everything that happened and made you do what you did.”
“Why won’t you say it, Doctor? Have you not read the reports? I was the talk of the whole town, still am, actually.”
“Something isn’t right about the reports, have you been truthful in your testimony?”
“Wouldn’t I be breaching the law if I wasn’t?”
“People lie all the time, Miss Harold.”
“May God forgive me for my sins, then, Doctor Jeong.”
A vein in the doctor’s forehead bulged as his jawline strained, mouth open but no words leaving his pretty lips. He huffed, then leaned back in the chair, eyebrows furrowing deeply as he wrote messily in the notebook once again. I smiled as I watched him, his black hair fell into his eyes as he looked down. His spectacles threatened to slide down his nose altogether, and I itched to fix it for him.
“Let’s start at the beginning, then, shall we?” The doctor’s tone had turned uncharacteristically soft as if he was talking to a frightened child. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked up once again and I gulped, feeling unsettled under his sudden undivided attention. His left palm pressed into the side of his thigh, his fingers tapping his black slacks rhythmically. I gulped, then nodded.
“What would you like to know about me, Doctor Jeong?”
“Tell me about your childhood. Your likes and dislikes, who is most dear to you and why. Have you loved before? Do you feel lonely now? Just tell me everything that crosses your mind.”
He wanted to know everything about me. It felt unravelling, dangerous. He had said my secrets would remain with him, would he note them down in the language only he spoke? Or would he tell the committee right after he was finished with his examination? Taking a deep breath, I turned my head to gaze outside once again, my lungs deflating as I exhaled long and loud. The lightning was closer now, the little birds were nowhere to be seen. Something coiled in my guts as my father’s face flashed behind my eyes, his warm smile and his kind tone still so present in my mind. If he were still here, perhaps nothing would’ve happened. There would be no Karina and Mr. Brooks, I wouldn’t be condemned for life.
“Much like I am afraid of storms, Doctor Jeong, I’m afraid of solace. It hadn’t always been like this, while my father was alive, I had never felt alone for even a second. He’d take me to the woods on horseback, we’d pluck flowers for my mother and he’d teach me everything he knew about the fauna and the poisonous mushrooms. He’d read stories for me before bedtime, and he had even taught me how to read. He was my favourite person, now it’s my mother and Matilda. She’s a young maid, we had found her hiding in the stable last winter. She was almost frozen to death, I thought I might be giving her a second chance at life if I took her in as my personal maid. She doesn’t speak much and I can’t tell whether she hates me or not, but I know she loves it when I take her on walks in the garden. I think she’s a little bit like me. Out there, in nature, we can both pretend to be free, just two girls roaming between flowers and giggling about the future.” The doctor’s hand seemed to be moving with my words, it was as if he tried to capture and note down everything I said. For that sole reason, I didn’t speak quickly, I let the words settle both in his mind and on his paper.
“I suppose my childhood isn’t anything special, I come from an aristocratic family, you must imagine what it was like. I was raised to have good manners and bow in front of men, but not without having an opinion and a mouth to voice them with. My father had been a fair man, he and my mother had always made every decision together, so he raised me to find a man who sees me as his equal and his other half. There had been moments when I had rebelled, I think that is only normal, but I was never a moody or explosive child. You can ask my mother about that, she’ll tell you so too.” I said as the doctor nodded along to my words, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I took a deep breath and watched his face as I continued talking, “There was only one thing I loved as much as I loved my father, and it was ballet. But that, too, was taken away after I was admitted to the asylum. Ever since then, I haven’t touched my pointe shoes. I had even asked Matilda to hide them deep inside my closet, my heart breaks anytime I catch a glimpse of them.”
A lump formed in my throat just from speaking about it, I could feel tears in my eyes as I watched the tree branches move violently with the strong wind. The willow tree looked gorgeous in the wake of the storm, and I wished nothing but to step under it and close my eyes, let the wind destroy my bun and rip the fresh daisies out of my hair. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dark flashes of memories I had tried to forget so badly. The asylum was a cursed place, filled with evil people who only caused more harm. I hated it and everyone that was associated with it. I could feel the doctor’s eyes on me, and he gulped, inhaling sharply. I glanced at him, and he looked amazed for some reason.
“Can you tell me about the asylum, Miss Harold?” My muscles tensed despite the doctor’s soft tone, and my heart started racing painfully in my chest. I thought wringing my fingers tighter together would stop the tremors from worsening, but it didn’t. I felt lightheaded as my own shrill screams echoed in my ears, but I couldn’t speak. My bottom lip shook as I took a breath through my mouth, and shook my head frantically, “Alright, it’s alright, Miss Harold. We won’t speak of it, take deep breaths.”
The doctor leaned forward in his seat and I rigidly turned to face him, my eyes wide in fear as I waited for him to strike. Maybe his mask would finally slip, maybe the tools were hidden inside his satchel bag. The notebook, his scribbling, my stories…maybe they were all just distractions. And yet, the doctor’s eyes remained kind and ridden with worry as he seemed to breathe through his mouth as well, as if he was mirroring my actions. I closed my eyes as the first thunder shook the ground, and inhaled deeply, keeping the air in my lungs until I couldn’t no more. I released the shuddered breath and opened my eyes again, only to see the doctor gulp, loudly. His pupils were dilated and made his eyes seem completely black, his fair cheeks flushed deeply as his long fingers tightened around his pencil once again.
“Perhaps we should end the examination here, Doctor Jeong.” My voice was strained as I gulped around nothing, “The storm is here. You should head home before it worsens.”
As if nature had agreed with me, the air filled with electricity as lightning struck not far away, the thunder loud and following shortly after. Doctor Jeong’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, humming approvingly. He swiped his bottom lip with his thumb before he grabbed his satchel bag, adjusting his spectacles as they did slip off the slope of his nose. Thunder wracked the earth again as a colder breeze billowed past us, ruffling my dress and the hair that had fallen out of my bun. It also moved Doctor Jeong’s messy hair, jelled back and out of his eyes in an attempt to make him look classy. As the doctor stood, slipping the notebook inside his satchel bag too, I mirrored him, smoothing down my dress.
“I call what we do here sessions, Miss Harold, and not examination.” The smile was easy on his lips and I hummed, flinching when the wind slammed the grand door of the tea room against the wall. Perhaps it was time to close them, “I shall see you tomorrow?”
“Of course, Doctor Jeong, please take care on your way home.” My eyebrows furrowed in worry as Doctor Jeong nodded, opening his mouth to say something just as the door to the tea room was yanked open. The man in the doorway was unfamiliar, but he looked worried.
“Mr Jeong, we should go now if we don’t want to be stranded somewhere on the road during the storm.” He must be the doctor’s driver, then. My mother appeared behind the driver, looking as worried as if the doctor was her own child.
“We have guest rooms, Doctor, you could always stay.” My mother was a kind and loving woman, her intentions hardly questionable, “I would hate it if something were to happen to you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harold, but I shall be on my way.” Doctor Jeong smiled widely, then faced me once again, and bowed his head much like yesterday. Perhaps it was their custom to take farewell like that, so, I bowed back to him. The doctor’s eyes widened for a second before his smile widened just slightly, and then he and his diver were gone, my mother’s expression was worried as she watched them leave from the front porch. Big droplets of water started falling from the dark clouds, and I quickly closed the grand doors as Matilda rushed inside to assist me. The rhythmic fall of the rain was a glaring reminder of my irregularly fast heartbeat.
The eyes were windows to one’s soul, or so Yunho had been taught. He had dealt with many cases during his practice period, and now as a certified psychiatrist, he had gained even more popularity in the West. He had no choice but to move at a young age, the world was an ever-changing place. He was young and curious, he wished to explore and find people that needed his expertise. But there was something so mesmerising about her eyes which left him unravelled and flustered like nothing else. Her words dripped with honey, and Yunho could swear he heard angels singing, accompanying her soft tone whenever she told stories. He was captivated. He ached to write down every single word she uttered, he felt desperate to pick apart her brain, to look inside it, to fix her. He was desperate to understand what had triggered her manic episode, he was desperate to tell the committee that she was innocent. But he was a doctor first and foremost, and his job forbade him from any personal attachment towards his patients. But whenever he looked into her icy blue eyes, the breeze brushing the fallen copper strands of her hair against her sun-kissed cheeks, he felt his very own soul stir and reach out in desperation to connect with hers, to possess it. She was a madwoman, and he was a man desperate to stay sane in her company.
Another thing I completely wished to be free of was dinners, where I was forced to sit with my so-called happy family. The bags under Mr Brooks's eyes had been getting darker and darker lately, and the creases in his forehead were an obvious sign that something was worrying him. But it wasn’t my place to ask questions, so I continued to silently notice the small changes in his mood and behaviour. He had stopped pampering Karina, which was completely unheard of, and she was loud and clear with her complaints. She had wanted a silk nightgown just last week, but her father had denied her of it. He didn’t mention the cause, he only said she already has more than enough nightgowns. The clinking of silverware gave me something to focus on as my eyes were cast on the brussels sprouts on my plate, pushing around it as I didn’t enjoy their bitter taste. But Mrs Humphrey had cooked dinner with love, so I didn’t want to leave anything on my plate tonight. The silence around the table was broken as my mother grabbed her glass of wine, her kind eyes settling on me.
“Y/N, my dear, how are your examinations going?” I paused, feeling everyone’s eyes in the dining room on me. I gulped down the food I had in my mouth and tapped with a napkin at my lips, letting my hands fall in my lap as I hummed. Doctor Jeong’s words rang clearly in my mind, what we were doing was called sessions.
“They are called sessions, ‘ma, and they are going well,” I spoke gently, hoping she’d find my words reassuring. I knew she was constantly worrying about me, always fussing and around thinking I wouldn’t notice. I might be absent-minded a lot these days, but I’m mostly aware of my surroundings still. Mr Brooks nodded once, looking pleased as he wolfed down the steak Mrs Humphrey had made to be spicey, just like Mr Brooks liked it.
“That is lovely to hear,” My mother beamed at me, meanwhile Karina scoffed under her breath, “Do you find communication with the doctor difficult, perhaps? Or is everything clear between you two?”
Mr. Brooks nodded along, one eyebrow raised as he watched me curiously. I adjusted myself in my chair and plastered on a little smile, “Doctor Jeong is well-versed and rather attentive. He notes down everything I say in his notebook, and meanwhile, I have noticed he scribbles along in his mother tongue as well, I find no difficulties understanding him. He’s coherent and speaks English as if he was born around here.”
“That’s a very reassuring thing to hear, my dear.” Mr Brooks spoke up with a smile, the corners of his lips tugging up. Karina’s jawline was set tight as she let her fork clamper down loudly against her plate, her eyebrows raised mockingly.
“Why are we letting her spend time alone with that doctor, again? How is that helping her?” Her tone was high-pitched, filled with blatant jealousy that Mr Brooks and my mother remained oblivious to.
“Sweetheart, we’ve discussed this already,” Mr Brooks said with a tired sigh, giving his daughter a disapproving look, “Y/N needs a new medical approach, and Doctor Jeong is the best in this field. He came all the way here from South Korea when he was still just an apprentice. I’ve read up on him, he’s solved cases of mass hysteria and other mental issues no doctor could even come close to. Let’s not have this conversation again, Karina.”
Mr Brooks was mostly calling me insane to my face, but his words held no malice and I knew his intentions were pure. I couldn’t resent him for wanting to find a cure for me, something that could finally fix me. He had no obligation to look out for me like this, I wasn’t his daughter by blood, yet he had only treated me with kindness and understanding my whole life. He was a good man, perhaps a bit too absent from the household, but I could see in his eyes that he loved my mother dearly, and that was more than enough for me to accept him into our home. He couldn’t replace my father, but he filled the void that sometimes got too much.
“I think she just needs attention,” Karina hissed under her breath as she slammed her fist on the table, making the maids behind her jump, “What are you waiting for, stupid cunts?! My glass is empty!”
“Karina,” My mother muttered, her eyebrows pulled together as she gave her a displeased look while the poor maid scurried to fill Karina’s glass with wine, “A lady shouldn’t use such vulgar language, nonetheless in front of her elders.”
“Yeah, whatever Mrs Harold.” She scoffed as she glared at the maid, taking big gulps of her wine. I watched with distaste, catching Leia’s gaze for a split second. Her eyes were tear-filled and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from speaking up, it would only start an argument I didn’t have the mental capacity for right now. But Karina wasn’t done as her sharp gaze fell on me, her tone harsh when she spoke again, “I know you enjoy spending time with the doctor alone, it makes you fantasize, doesn’t it? You’re just playing with him like with everyone else around you, sister, aren’t you? How long do you reckon until you get him riled up enough to get underneath your skirts—”
“Karina!” Mr Brooks's voice was loud and stern, his eyes set on his daughter with disgust in them, “How dare you say such things to your sister? In front of me and her mother, nonetheless! You should be ashamed, is this who I raised you to be?!”
Karina chuckled, humourless, “Right, father, you didn’t raise me at all, perhaps that is why I am like this. Maybe you shouldn’t have admitted mother into an asylum because she didn’t know how to silence a crying baby, hm?”
The silence that settled over the table made my skin crawl. If anyone would’ve dropped a pin, everyone could’ve heard it in the dining room. I released a shaky breath, the tremors worsening as Mr Brooks seemed to be struggling with containing his rage in front of my mother. Her mouth was open and a hand pressed against it, eyes shaking with pain and incredulity as she looked between Karina and her second husband. I took a deep breath and pushed my chair back, grabbing my plate to try and stabilise myself, to stay in the present. Eyes fell on me, and before Leia could come to approach me, I shook my head with a small smile, “I’ll let Mrs Humphrey know she outdid herself once again, then I will be retreating for bed. Matilda will accompany me, sleep well tonight, mother.”
As I left the dining room, I heard Mr Brooks weakly whisper a good night, then Karina’s sobs as she raced up the stairs, slamming the door to her room loudly. The chatter and good mood died down the second the kitchen door swung open, Leia following inside after me. Mrs Humphrey looked concerned when she noticed me holding my plate and went to stand up and take it from me, but I quickly shook my head.
“No, stay seated, Mrs Humphrey, dinner is absolutely delicious.” I said with a smile, and the other servants and maids seemed to relax as well, “Would you mind…if I finished my dinner here, with you?”
“Oh, come here, my dear.” Mrs Humphrey’s frown was deep as she beckoned me over, making space for me between herself and our butler, Jesper. He was still a young boy, his eyes filled with a youthful spark, full of life and happiness. He offered me a small smile and placed mushrooms filled with cheese on my plate, knowing I loved them. I chuckled and thanked him, then looked over the table and realised I felt most comfortable when around these people. They were simple, they were happy, and they made the most of their days. They were free, away from society’s judgemental eyes, and they lacked the prejudice the other aristocrats hadn’t even tried to hide around me. I felt like I belonged at this table, and as the happy chatter picked up again and Jesper made small talk with me, with Carla eagerly interjecting sometimes, I could feel my tense muscles relax and the void in my chest disappear. For a little while only, while I was still at this table, enjoying my dinner with the people who looked at me as if I was just a human too.
The doctor was quickly growing on me. I couldn’t trust him, not yet, it would be too soon. It’s been only a week since he started visiting me for our sessions, but I started believing that he wasn’t playing a character when around me. He was genuine, his eyes sparkled curiously with each question he asked, his frown was always worried and it downturned his pretty pouty lips, and when he smiled, something warm seemed to flood my chest. I could only compare it to the sun, for I have never felt such warmth when gazing upon a man before. Not even when suitors were lining up in front of our house, asking for a chance at marrying me. The doctor was considerate and kind, he hung on to my every word. It was his profession, I knew he was only doing his job, but I couldn’t help but imagine he was a man interested in me, his notebooks filled with poems and sketches of me. It was a far-fetched fantasy, but it managed to warm my cheeks anytime I dwelled on it.
I was out in the back garden as I found myself thinking about the doctor again, excited to see him today as well. We had left off at a rather culminating point of my story yesterday, I wondered if he was as eager as I was to hear the rest of it. Matilda wasn’t feeling well today, and as my mother was in town, Carla was the one supervising me. I didn’t mind the change, she was a chatty girl and easily kept me from detaching from reality. Here, in the garden, as I thumbed at the leaves of the flowers, Carla was still speaking about an encounter with a fairy. A supposed fairy as she believed in God and deemed the little creatures spawns of evil.
“Tell me, young miss, do you believe it was Satan sending those fairies my way?” Carla’s voice was full of wonder, “Have I done something bad to attract his attention to me?”
“I don’t believe so, Carla.” I answered her quietly, my eyes following a bee as it flew from flower to flower, “You go to church every Sunday.”
“Perhaps I should go from now on every Wednesday and Sunday, too.” Carla huffed, hands on her hips as she tried avoiding the bee that was flying towards her. I chuckled, straightening up. The scent of the hydrangeas was familiar as I closed my eyes, inhaling it deeply into my lungs so that they would stay there for a long time.
“I don’t believe fairies are inherently evil, Carla.” I mused as the breeze brushed upon my cheeks, already flushed from the great heat. My dress was thin and simple, I couldn’t wear pompous dresses during summertime, they were too hot. I would often feel lightheaded from the strong sun, the thick dresses would only make me faint. The white fabric was soft against my skin, and the white ribbons brushed against my nape as my hair was pulled into two small buns at the base of my neck. I could’ve performed on stage looking like this, but even so much as looking at my pointe shoes would’ve hurt my soul. I didn’t let the memories resurface despite the sudden melancholia that wished to break through my emotions, “Fairies are small creatures that protect nature, maybe you had done something they didn’t approve of. Did you disrespect their land, perhaps? Or did you step on a flower they had blessed before? Fairies are territorial beings, and they are also quite vengeful. But if you ask Father Leon to bless you after service, I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Carla.”
The scoff that followed my words wasn’t coming from Carla. I didn’t open my eyes as I became aware of heavier footsteps approaching, I had completely missed the engine of his motorcar. I felt Karina stop behind me, but I turned my head towards the sun, basking in it. I couldn’t touch the celestial without burning to a crisp, but perhaps the one it had sent to me in human form was really here to save me. A clear of throat made me blink my eyes open, and I turned to look over my shoulder.
“If you have nothing else but fairies to talk about, then I don’t see why Doctor Jeong should entertain your madness any longer.” Karina’s eyes narrowed at me, “You belong in an asylum, sister.”
I smiled, a little amused, as an ugly grimace appeared on Carla’s face upon Karina’s comment. The maid made to open her mouth, which would’ve landed her in trouble, but the doctor beat her to it, “Thank you for walking me here, Miss Brooks. But I’d like to be left alone with Miss Harold, now.”
“Right,” Karina muttered, shooting me a jealous stare, “She gets to have you all to herself, as always.”
Then, she turned around and raised her skirt above her ankles to storm off. Carla nodded her head and followed after Karina, not in a hurry so that the woman wouldn’t pick a fight with Carla as well. The doctor sighed, pushing his small glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking a little bit bewildered. Then, he looked at me and the crease from his forehead disappeared. I was already smiling at him, my hands behind my back to hide the bad tremors. I had felt faint all day, but the doctor was here finally and I could finally take my first breath of fresh air of the day. I couldn’t help but smile widely at him, and watch as the flush from his ears quickly travelled down to his chest. Even more buttons of his loose white shirt were undone, the silver cross sitting against his chest now glinting under the sunlight. His trousers were high-waisted and the shirt was tucked neatly into it, a leather belt pulled around his waist. And there, in his right hand, was something white. I tilted my head in wonder as I looked at it, curious about what it was. The doctor liked bringing small gifts, mostly silly, but memorable.
“Hello, Doctor Jeong,” I spoke up, and the doctor released a loud breath.
“Hello, Miss Harold.” His voice shook slightly, then his fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel bag, “Here, I have something for you.”
Then he extended his right hand out towards me, and my eyes widened in surprise. I could tell the ballerina was made out of a napkin, I hadn’t seen anything like it before. My hands shook despite trying to ease the tremors, and my fingers hesitantly curled around the present as our skin brushed together. The doctor’s cheeks flushed rapidly, and I found myself unable to look into his warm eyes. I wondered if it was the heat that made our hands so clammy. I looked at the ballerina in my hands, melancholy overtaking me once again. I longed to dance around in the garden, Mrs Humphrey and my mother as my audience now that my father was gone, but it only brought back bad memories. I was too faint to twirl around now, my legs weren’t as strong as they once used to be. I would fall even before doing my first pirouette, it was depressing.
“How are you feeling today, Miss Harold?”
“Faint, but it’s from the heat, Doctor Jeong.”
We stood unmoving, our eyes boring into each other’s. I didn’t want to move to the tea room just yet, perhaps I longed to sit under the willow tree. The doctor made no moves, and so I said nothing about heading for the house. We were in eyesight if anyone were to look through the kitchen window, and we weren’t doing anything wrong.
“Thank you for the gift, Doctor Jeong, did you make it yourself?” I asked with round eyes, unable to keep the smile off my lips. The doctor flushed darker and averted his eyes, thumbing at his wet bottom lip.
“Yes, I thought it would cheer you up. I hope I wasn’t wrong.” His tone was tender and just a little hesitant, the doctor was almost cute like this.
“It did cheer me up, sir, I was thinking about ballet just now.” I paused, and waited for the doctor to look up into my eyes, “It seems you can already read my mind, I wonder how you do that.”
The doctor smiled, his forehead exposed as his dark strands were brushed away from his eyes, “We are making progress, then, reading your mind isn’t as easy as one might think.”
“And why is that?” I asked curiously, fiddling with the napkin in my hands.
“Because it’s very complex, you like to speak in riddles, and you evade most of my questions.” Then the doctor chuckled and I bit my bottom lip, averting my eyes in embarrassment, “You’re cunning, but I’m good at catching all the little hidden messages.”
I grinned at the doctor’s words, my suspicions confirmed. I knew I could play around with him, he seemed like a very smart man. Hearing he could read between the lines was more than satisfying. My heart skipped a beat, but it didn’t start racing like before.
“Do you like hydrangeas, Doctor?”
“Their scent is too intense for my liking, but they are pretty flowers, Miss Harold.”
“They symbolise purity and gratitude, even vanity in some cases.”
“What do they mean in your case, then?”
“Gratitude, Doctor Jeong, towards you.” Our eyes met again as I looked away from the white flowers, a sudden calmness settling upon my racing thoughts, “I hope the end of my story will be satisfying to you.”
The doctor gulped, loudly, then motioned towards the house, “Would you like to continue inside? Did you remember something of importance, perhaps?”
“Can we sit under the willow tree?” I raised an eyebrow, “Mrs Humphrey can see us from the kitchen if that’s of worry to you.”
“Sure, if you’ll feel comfortable.” The doctor nodded, fishing for his notebook and pencil as I hummed, leading us down the pebbled path, the willow tree was just by the end of it. The territory the house resided on came with a small pond, I liked watching the still water while sitting by the trunk of the willow tree. The doctor followed after me quietly, and he watched me settle down into the green grass, dress splaying out around me. It had ridden slightly up, exposing my shins as I pulled them underneath myself. The doctor seemed to be frozen, eyes glued to where my legs had been just seconds ago. Then, he gulped loudly and settled down next to me. He sat a little closer compared to the usual distance between our chairs, but his presence was soothing. I smiled as I faced him, eyes falling on his long fingers as he got comfortable, opening his notebook to where we had left off yesterday.
“I don’t remember anything new, doctor, but we haven’t reached that part of the story yet.” I smiled, then turned my head to gaze out at the pond, “Would you like to hear what happens next?”
The doctor exhaled, “You told me this noble boy barged inside your house in the middle of the night? He must’ve been madly in love with you to do such a thing.”
I chuckled, eyes focusing on the dragonflies above the pond, “I suppose he was at one point, yes. But men are easily converted, I find love like my mother and father had once shared hard to find, doctor. Our love didn’t last long, but I’m getting ahead of myself. It was a cold spring evening and he had been visiting, drinking with Mr Brooks to ask for permission to marry me. My mother was present too, of course, but she couldn’t say much against Mr Brook’s words. In the end, the proposal was accepted and the man left, only to come barging inside hours later.”
“Why did he do that?”
“Because he was drunk, and because he had something to say.”
“Did you hear him out?”
I chuckled, facing the doctor. His eyes were wide as he was watching me, pencil pressing against the white paper, “Yes, I did hear him out, but his words made no sense. He said something about a lavished lifestyle and a farmhouse, and something about being happy together even in a later age, it was endearing but very inadequate.”
“So, what did you do, then?” The doctor wasn’t even writing down what I was saying, it made me chuckle. The corner of his lips lifted subconsciously, he looked amused too.
“Nothing, I just kicked him out and told him to come back when he’s sober. His drunken words meant nothing to me. I did not want to marry a man who made foolish confessions in an inebriated state of mind, besides, he was a gentleman. He should have known better than to barge inside a lady’s home well past midnight, no, Doctor Jeong?” I quirked an eyebrow, my question seemed to snap the doctor out of his staring. He cleared his throat and looked down at his notebook, pausing for a few seconds before he jotted something down. I couldn’t read it, it was in a foreign language.
“N-no—I mean, yes, Miss Harold. That was rather inappropriate of him, I must imagine the discomfort he had created for you.” He had barely finished his sentence when a giggle bubbled past my lips.
“On the contrary, Doctor Jeong.” I grinned, ducking my head down to hide my amusement as confusion crossed the doctor’s features, “It was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Mrs Humphrey, my mother, and I had stayed up for hours giggling about it afterwards. We even made jokes about it and Mrs Humphrey let us drink her very secret brew that tastes like flowers but could knock out even a sailor with just two jugs. I have no idea what it is, but it’s very strong.”
The doctor’s eyes were filled with awe as I laughed, memories of easier times never failing to bring me in a good mood. It would’ve been easier like this, if things stayed put and if Karina wouldn’t have meddled with everything. I have faced hardships before, but having the person I considered my sister to betray me had stung like none other. In the end, neither one of us got what we wanted, just a lot of animosity and a tension-filled relationship. Sometimes I wanted to ask Karina if all of it was worth it, but I knew not to entertain an already greedy person.
“And how does this memory make you feel now?” Doctor Jeong’s tone was airy, and he wasn’t looking at me as he was scribbling in his notebook. I pondered for a second before I placed my hands on the grass, gripping it tightly between my fingers. Sometimes the tremors stopped when I grabbed something too hard.
“Bittersweet, but mostly happy. I’m grateful I was able to experience all of that at least once in my lifetime, others aren’t as lucky as I am. I am well aware of that.” The doctor nodded along as I spoke, but then he paused writing and looked at me with a frown.
“And when you think of that man? How does he make you feel, Miss Harold?” I gulped, not having expected that question. But it was easy to answer, I’ve pondered many times over this specific question, there wasn’t anything the doctor could surprise me with anymore. I smiled softly but knew the doctor could feel the shift in my mood.
“Mostly angry that I wasted years on that man when I could’ve found someone more decent, more loving.” Then I shrugged and watched as the doctor licked his lips, adjusting his spectacles on his nose, “Do you believe that God has everything planned for us, Doctor?”
“Mostly, yes, but we have enough free will to change the direction of our lives.” The doctor answered, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. I hummed, plucking the grass from the ground forcefully. My knuckles ached from how hard I had gripped onto it.
“You can’t run from what is meant for you, Doctor Jeong, we would’ve never met if I wouldn’t have gone mad.” But Doctor Jeong didn’t seem to be too convinced by my words. He chewed on his bottom lip, sweat rolling down between his pecks. I gulped, then averted my eyes from his exposed fair skin, and instead focused on his beautiful round brown eyes, “Are you glad we got to meet?”
The man’s eyes widened at my forward question, but I meant no harm nor did I have questionable reasons to ask such a thing. The doctor cleared his throat, playing with the pencil in his hands as he thought his answer over, “I’ll be glad once you are back to being yourself, until then, I cannot allow myself to feel any sort of satisfaction.”
“Don’t you think my madness is part of me, now?” I muttered, gazing off towards the house. The curtain in the kitchen moved, but I knew it wasn’t Mrs Humphrey. She was out in town with my mother at this hour. Doctor Jeong inhaled sharply, then closed his notebook loudly. The paper made a noisy sound, making me look over to him. The man looked aggravated as if my question had bothered him immensely, but I was merely curious about how he viewed me.
“Perhaps we should continue tomorrow, Miss Harold, and we must proceed with the story. The committee is pressing me with questions, they are very curious to hear the full story.” The doctor was avoiding my question, that was unusual. He stood, brushed the dirt off his trousers, then hastily grabbed his satchel bag and clumsily placed the notebook and his pencil inside.
“Thank you for indulging with me, Doctor Jeong.” I looked up at him, and had to shield my eyes from the sun, “I love sitting under the willow tree.”
“I will keep that in mind, Miss Harold, have a nice afternoon.” The doctor then bowed his head and I mirrored his actions, then he was rushing back towards the house, looking a little rigid. Karina stood in the doorway to the tea room, a tray filled with cookies and lemonade in her hands, but Doctor Jeong merely nodded at her and left the house in haste. Karina’s glare could be felt even from the distance, and I gently stood to head back inside, keeping the arrangement in mind. I wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised, I knew Carla would be in the laundry room if she had nothing else to do.
Yunho couldn’t sleep. He kept reading over and over his notes, all the small hidden messages making his head ache. His stomach growled in hunger, but he was physically unable to stand from his study and ask the housekeeper to prepare dinner for him. The girl was frail, she was soft-spoken but witty. She liked to keep him on his toes, and she was great at making him lose track of what was most important. He felt like he was making no progress, yet the committee kept pressing him for an answer. Father Louis was understanding enough not to ambush him with questions daily, but the rest of the officials weren’t. They wanted a diagnosis of Miss Harold already, they didn’t want to understand that Yunho couldn’t give his verdict in anything but a week. Building trust took time, getting to hear the unfiltered truth from someone who loved to play with her words took patience. Yunho was a patient person, but he wondered how long he had until he’d break. Whenever he closed his eyes, he felt as if she was watching him, standing over him, smiling at him. Her skin was sun-kissed and sometimes her cheeks were burnt from staying out in the sun for too long, but Yunho knew her skin would be soft. When he had twisted and turned his napkin into shapes, absentmindedly, he realised he had made a ballerina out of it. Thus, he had made his first mistake as a professional. He had allowed himself to sympathise with Miss Harold. He had allowed himself to notice her smile was brighter than the sun itself, and that she smelled an awful lot like those hydrangeas that Yunho was allergic to. And he had allowed himself to notice the tremors of her hands, making him yearn to hold her frail hands between his with the hopes of soothing her nerves. Yunho wondered if she yearned for him like she had yearned for her once lover.
The clouds were almost black as they expanded over the horizon. The wind was too cold for us to keep the grand doors of the tea room open, so they remained closed as I sat on the soft sofa, gazing out through the glass. Matilda had left the curtains undrawn for me, and a few scented candles were lit to ease my muscles' tension. I couldn’t focus lately, these past three days my mood had quickly reclined. I know the doctor had noticed it too, but he didn’t prod more than it would be considered rude. I was reluctant to tell him the cause of my moroseness, he wasn’t here to listen to me weep about how unfairly Karina treated me. She had been ruthless these past three days. I knew she had a vendetta against me, but ever since the doctor started coming here, she had been progressively getting worse and worse. I could handle it until I couldn’t. If I ignored her and got lost in a deep spot in the back of my mind filled with happy memories, I would end up with a backhanded slap to my face. If I talked back and stood my ground, I would only fuel her fire, giving her power over me. Karina was clever, she knew when to strike. If my mother was around us, she was an angel. If the servants were watching, she’d be sharp and arrogant towards me. If Mr. Brooks was present, she didn’t bother hiding her disdain, but she wasn’t as straightforward as around the servants.
She didn’t hold back one bit if it was just the two of us. My eyes were lost on the gloomy visage, eyes tracking the swaying vines of the willow tree. It was even more beautiful in the eyes of the storm, I could’ve stared at it for hours on end. My mind was silent like this, absent of all the turbulent thoughts that shook me to my core and kept me up at night, when Matilda, poor girl, struggled to stay up and look over me. Just last night, she had fallen asleep, and I was grateful because I had a moment to myself where I could secretly slip away and walk through the gardens in hopes of clearing my mind. It wasn’t a smart decision, however, because I couldn’t remember anything after I stepped through the threshold of the house. I just know sometime later I was gasping for air as my arms were restricted and my throat was scratchy, Mr Brooks desperately trying to hold down my trashing body. My white nightgown was dirty with mud and the ends of it were dripping wet with pond water. It wasn’t foreign that I would lose consciousness if something lay heavily on my chest and gnawed at my thoughts, but it had been long since I had lost track of myself so deeply. Not since the incident, at least.
And Karina was enjoying it, her lips pulled into a nasty smirk as my mother cried by my side, asking Matilda and Leia to bring cold towels and help me clean up. Mr Brooks had looked tired as he gently helped me back to my room and tucked me into bed, his eyes pained and suffering as if I was blood-related to him. His expression made me feel guilty for worrying not just my mother, but also him. I felt terrible, yet I couldn’t control my mind or my body when these episodes happened. Even now, as I sat on the sofa waiting for the doctor to arrive, I felt lightheaded and on the brink of losing consciousness. My body felt light and heavy simultaneously, and I could feel my pulse in my neck. My lips felt chapped no matter how much tea I drank, and my throat was tight. I wanted to see the doctor, I needed to tell him why I had done what I had done. I had always been too afraid to confess the truth, not wanting to hurt my mother and break up the second family she cherished. But I also couldn’t continue living like this, not when Karina prayed for my downfall. Her harsh words from yesterday were still fresh in my mind, and I had to blink the tears away for a second.
“I know you’re just a whore, desperate to find another man to toy with.” She had spat with flushed cheeks, a cup filled halfway with wine in her hand, “Do you seriously think that doctor wants to touch you? You’re a deranged woman now, Y/N, nobody will want you. Not even Doctor Jeong Yunho, you whore. I won’t let you have him too, you always get what you want—but not this time, Y/N, mark my words.”
And just when I had thought she was done, she had marched up to me and grabbed me by the throat harshly, making me gasp, “If he doesn’t send you to an asylum, I will kill you myself, Y/N. You’re an abomination and a disgrace, even your own mother hates you, whore.”
The knock at the door startled me, I had been lost deep in thought. I turned my head and noticed Matilda giving me a small smile, “Young miss, the doctor is here to see you. Would you like me to prepare anything for you two?”
My heart skipped a beat, but I couldn’t tell why. Perhaps because I knew he’d take my mind off things, even if I was forced to relive the past I tried to bury deep down, sequences I couldn’t even remember anymore. Or, maybe, it was because I desperately wished to gaze upon his soft face, lose myself in his warm and round eyes peeking at me over his small spectacles. I couldn’t decide which was the reason, but I needed his presence to calm my turbulent mind and body finally.
“Thank you. I will welcome him inside, and you can take a break.” I stood up, hands balling into fists as nausea washed over me, “We won’t need anything, but I hope you get some sleep, Matilda. You’ve been watching over me for three days.”
“That is my duty, young miss.” Then she bowed her head before I could tell her she needed to take care of herself, and she took her leave. I smoothed down my long-sleeved dark blue dress now that the weather wasn’t as warm as days ago. I hadn’t pulled my hair into a bun today, even if it was not ladylike, I wished to feel my copper strands brushing against my cheeks when I moved my head. It shielded my face like a curtain if I didn’t want to be seen, I hoped Doctor Jeong wouldn’t mind.
Sucking in a deep breath and bracing myself, I left the tea room in search of the doctor, who should have been in the foyer, getting rid of his coat and dress shoes, but instead, he wasn’t there. I paused for a second to listen for his voice, and a smile pulled at my lips when I realised he was in the living room. Perhaps we could hold our session inside there today, I could play the piano and show him my favourite piece, if that, of course, was deemed fine by the doctor. As my fingers brushed against the wooden door, about to push it further open, I realised the doctor wasn’t alone. Karina’s sweet giggles flooded the room before she continued speaking.
“Surely, Doctor. I am pleased to hear you do not burn yourself out by coming here daily. I can only imagine how tiring it must be to listen to my sister, she’s rarely coherent. You must have noticed, given that you are a doctor, that she often has no idea where she is or who she is talking to. She tends to get lost in her own mind and blabber on about nonsense.” Karina then paused as my heart raced, my eyebrows furrowed in distaste, “She looks completely normal upon first glance, but it quickly becomes obvious she’s—well, she’s insane, you know?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Brooks, I cannot be discussing this with you.” Doctor Jeong’s voice was neutral, and cold, unlike the tone he used with me, “But as a licensed doctor, given that I am one, I can tell when her surroundings influence her mood, or why she is in a bad headspace.”
Karina scoffed, sounding a little offended, “Are you insinuating anything right now, Doctor Jeong? I don’t need a license to be able to tell that my sister is insane. How long until you realise she’s just trying to trap you here, twirl you up into her web of lies and fantasies? If you think you can help a mad person, Doctor, I fear you should seek help too. She’s beyond help, she’s desperate and pathetic, and as I have stated, she’s mad—”
“I am not mad!” Before I could stop myself, I let my anger take over me as I barged through the ajar room, “I am not insane, Karina, you’re always putting words in my mouth! Who has ruined everything I have ever had, huh?! You, you did, so don’t call me your sister. I am not your sister, and I will never be, you filthy skank!”
Karina gasped loudly, her hand flying up to her mouth. The doctor’s eyes had widened too, clearly taken aback by my outburst. I had been soft-spoken and kind in front of him, careful to not show anything he could incriminate me with in front of the committee. Karina had gotten what she wanted all this time, I suppose. Now, the doctor would make an early report that wasn’t favourable for me without even hearing the truth, or as much as I could remember of it. I gulped, feeling ashamed as tears filled my eyes, but I tried to keep myself from crying. Karina wailing like a banshee next to Doctor Jeong was more than humiliating enough to force me to keep myself in place.
“Enough,” The doctor snapped, his friendly and soft features morphing into something of anger and vexation. For a second, I thought it was directed towards me, but then he turned his head and his warm chocolate brown eyes fell on Karina, now sharp, “This is the last time I let you off the hook, Miss Brooks. If you don’t stop treating your sister so poorly, I will have to write you up on the board as the main suspect that causes Miss Harold’s turbulent manic episodes to occur, is that what you want? Do you wish to also be psychologically evaluated? I can do that, I can get one of my colleagues to come out here and question you, but you might be surprised to find yourself deemed insane too.”
Doctor Jeong’s words visibly shook Karina as she crumbled into an armchair, fingers sinking into her hair as she shook her head at the doctor, crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks pathetically. My heart was racing in my chest, the doctor was all I could see. His flushed cheeks from anger, his whitening knuckles around the strap of his satchel bag, his rapidly rising and falling chest—Jeong Yunho had stood up for me, taken my side. He was my doctor, he was supposed to look out for me, but he wasn’t obligated to protect me from claims that might be true. I didn’t feel insane, I never had, but Karina might still be right. Maybe I was a danger to society and Doctor Jeong hadn’t discovered why yet. It was only a matter of time until I exploded in his face, showing him my true colours. I had no idea what I was fully capable of, that part of my memory was still absent, but I could never forget the feeling of pure satisfaction and elation as I watched Karina lay on her back, gasping for air as blood trailed from her nose down to her mouth, chin, and then neck.
Doctor Jeong sighed loudly, his eyebrows furrowed as he licked his lips, shaking his head in almost disappointment at Karina. Then, he faced me and his features instantly softened. My heart raced again, and I hid my hands behind my back. Then, without many words, he came closer to me and nodded with his chin towards the stairs, “Would you mind if we skipped the tea room today, I’d like a more private setting.”
I gulped, feeling lightheaded once again, “No, the storm ruins the pretty visage either way.”
The doctor hummed as I turned around and took off towards the stairs, his strong footsteps loud behind me. My hands trembled as we ascended the creaky old stairs, my fingertips tracing the old railing. Doctor Jeong’s fingers were close to mine, tracing the same pattern as mine, so close yet so far away at the same time. I exhaled softly and tried to keep a clear head, but my nausea was getting worse as I led the way to my bedroom. My mother would’ve been outraged by the idea of leading a man inside my room, but this was the doctor, he was here to help. I couldn’t think of a more private room than my own bedroom, the heavy door closed and locked once we were inside. The doctor seemed to tense when he heard the lock, his back to me. I felt exposed, a little naked, now that the man was in my intimate space. There wasn’t much to my room except for a desk filled with books and poorly done sketches, and a vase filled with daisies and tulips. The doctor headed for my desk, meanwhile, I headed for my bed. The sheets were satin and silky as I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed, letting my hands sink into the fabric. With a questioning glance, the doctor turned my chair around to face me and sunk into it with a heavy sigh.
“I apologise.” My eyebrows rose in surprise as I tilted my head in question, “For letting your sister speak like that of you, I should have never let her go that far. I shouldn’t have even let her corner me like that and-and—it doesn’t matter. I understand if you need space after this, I might be able to convince the committee to give me a few more weeks.”
“She’s not my sister.” I whispered as I wrung my trembling fingers together, looking down in my lap, “Karina is not my blood sister, Doctor Jeong. I might have viewed her once as a sister, but not anymore.”
The doctor fumbled around for his notebook and pencil, which had gotten smaller from having sharpened it so often. The doctor’s eyebrows were furrowed as he pushed the spectacles up on the bridge of his perfect nose.
“Does this have to do anything with what happened on that day?” The doctor’s voice was gentle, understanding even. I bit my lower lip and nodded slowly, feeling my head swarm around uncontrollably. Would he know what to do with me if I were to pass out? He is a doctor, after all, but Matilda is the one who knows me best, perhaps I shouldn’t have locked the door.
“She-she really—hurt me that day, and I—” My throat felt dry as my lungs started heaving for air, “I don’t know—maybe I did want her to di-die—I can’t do this right now, Doctor Jeong, I’m sorry.”
Doctor Jeong’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he suddenly let his notebook rest on the desk behind him. He leaned forward, lowering his head as he tried to make eye contact with me. I gulped and kept my gaze focused on my tremor-ridden hands, “Listen to me, Miss Harold, we don’t have to talk about it today. I’m just here to chat, I can tell you are not feeling well. Your mother informed me through a letter that you had hurt yourself last night, may I know what happened? Can you tell me? I won’t even take notes, just this one time.”
I gulped, slowly raising my eyes to look up at the doctor. He wore a tight beige shirt today with a dark blue vest over it, his pants snugly fitting his long legs. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his fair and smooth skin, veins bulging through. The wristwatch on his left hand looked fancy, the leather a very dark blue to match his vest. Doctor Jeong’s dark hair was swept back once again, but it looked fluffier today. I itched to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, wanting to feel its softness for myself. I tensed my muscles before I could do anything stupid like that. The doctor’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and his tooth was leaving a small white dent in his bottom lip. Because he was leaning forward, there was less distance between us, but still respectable. Like between doctor and patient.
“I—” I chewed on my bottom lip before taking a deep breath, “I haven’t been feeling well lately, Doctor, so I couldn’t sleep last night. I went for a walk and…I don’t remember what I did or what happened. Sometimes I lose consciousness while I’m awake, it’s frightening. I woke up with a muddied nightgown and a cut on my arm, Matilda had patched me up though.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Not that often.”
“Do you have an idea what may cause it?
“Well, yes. I think it’s Karina, she’s been antagonising me for the past three days and I’m so tired of it all. I just disassociate when I see her approaching me now, I’m sorry.”
The doctor sighed, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. His spectacles had slipped lower once again, “Do not apologise, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just glad you’re alright, Miss Harold.”
“The thought of you visiting daily keeps me afloat, Doctor Jeong, I have something to look forward to now.” I smiled, widely, and the doctor’s eyes widened before he blinked rapidly, looking stunned. Afraid the moment of lightness would pass by before I could grasp it, I continued, “Would you mind telling me your story today? What it’s like where you are from? How you were as a child? Is that…is that unprofessional? Are we not allowed to speak about you, Doctor?”
Doctor Jeong’s gulp was loud, then he took a deep breath and slowly leaned back in his chair, his legs spreading wide. He looked conflicted for just one second, but upon a glance at my face, he gave in. I couldn’t help but beam at the doctor as he chuckled, taking his spectacles off to place them on the desk behind himself.
“Where should I even start?” He hummed, looking towards the window, lost in thought. He was gorgeous, and he was kind. I hadn’t met a man like him before, I wished to trace my fingers along his jawline, but Karina was right. I couldn’t be a whore, not with this man, “As a child I was energetic and always blabbering on about whatever was inside my mind. I liked to ask a lot of questions, but I was reprimanded often for being too curious. Life is…different in South Korea at this time, very much different compared to how things run here. I am lucky I managed to sail so far away, my family has made great sacrifices for me to end up here. I’m not even able to send them often letters, it’s too risky.”
“Why?”
“Because they are in hiding, our belief in God is frowned upon, Catholics aren’t safe there now.” To prove a point, Doctor Jeong grabbed the silver cross underneath his shirt and brought it forward, clutching it tightly in his hands, “I can bravely say it here despite the other religions that exist, nobody has tried to murder me for it, so far. Besides, I cannot tell whether they still live where we did before I managed to sneak onto a French ship and escape. The elite class isn’t like the one here, it’s falling apart and I cannot be sure that my family are still part of it today.”
My eyebrows furrowed as an ashen look crossed the doctor’s face, “Do you miss your home?”
“Yes and no,” The doctor answered truthfully, “I was young when I sailed here, I had nothing and no one until my foster father found me. He was a Dutchman, very kind but unforgiving. I got lucky because he was a doctor and I came here to study advanced medicine with the hopes of once returning home and spreading the word, but I cannot go back, not yet. They’d shun me away, shame me and possibly kill me. South Korea isn’t welcoming of strangers yet, and in their eyes, I’d be one too for leaving our homeland only to return with new doctrines. Even if it means saving hundreds of lives. Not that I work with the physical body, but everyone needs someone who can soothe their soul once in a while.”
“You’re beyond courageous, Doctor Jeong, I admire you.” I sounded breathless as I closely listened to the doctor, making sure no word he uttered slipped by my ears. I wanted to know more about him, who he was and why he chose to be here. I couldn’t imagine being on my own, out on the streets, away from my mother, “I promise not to waste your time here, I’m almost at the end of my story.”
“I know, Miss Harold,” Doctor Jeong smiled softly, “Rather an acquittance than your doctor, I’d like to tell you that I look forward to our sessions. You are easy to connect with, and you don’t make it hard for me to glimpse inside your mind. I cannot say I understand each choice you’ve made, but that’s the beauty of having free will and individual thoughts, it sets us apart and makes us unique.”
I couldn’t help but blush as I averted my gaze from his intense one, feeling shy all of a sudden. The doctor wasn’t calling me specifically unique, but the implication was there, and I couldn’t help myself but imagine, “What about your home? What was that like, Doctor Jeong? And your family?”
For a second, he was silent. It made me think I had offended him in some way, but then his eyebrows slightly furrowed and he looked serious, “Since I am not talking to you as your doctor, you should just call me Yunho, if I may…Y/N?”
Hearing my name fall from his lips had my heart racing and my breath shuddering. I gulped, feeling speechless for a second as my eyes bore into Doctor Jeong’s, wondering if the man knew what it meant to drop such drastic formalities. But I obliged because I wanted his name to roll off my own lips like mine had done on his, desperate to fortify this frail bond between the two of us, doctor and patient, “Right, of course…Yunho.”
Doctor Jeong’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, his gulp was loud. I watched redness coat his ears down to his neck, his fingers digging into the wooden armrests. He was still wearing the silver band around his middle finger, I wondered whose it was. Was it from someone back home? Or was it from his foster father?
“Right, Y/N, well my home certainly was smaller than your house, and also built with different architecture in mind. And people don’t wear these fancy suits at home, we have our own traditional clothes that we proudly wear. I still have the one I arrived in tucked away as a means to never forget where I come from.” Doctor Jeong—Yunho—smiled softly, eyes glazed over with memories as he spoke quietly, almost as if to himself, “I have a younger brother, he’s the loveliest. I didn’t want to leave him home, not even my father and mother, but we would’ve been discovered if we were to run away together. My mother sent me off sobbing, clutching me to her chest and wondering if we’d see each other ever again. My father was a stoic man, but he had cried too. He had enough faith in me and God to know I’d make it out alive and become what they sent me away for. I left a dear friend behind too, but he promised to follow me one day. I do not know if we’ll see each other, perhaps he’s wandering around on a completely different continent, but at least I have something of his with me.”
My eyes flickered towards the silver band Yunho was absentmindedly playing with, his lips set in a tight line. So, the ring was from someone he dearly loved and cherished, I wished I could reach out and pat his hand to offer him comfort. But Yunho’s solemn look switched into one of contentment as he looked at me again, “Our house was in a lovely neighbourhood, filled with silence and the chirping of birds each early morning. Our servants were few, so they lived with us, and they had quickly become part of the family too. I would play in the dirt with my brother when our mother was busy in the kitchen, overlooking the cooks while also helping out. Our father worked long hours but he always returned with fresh flowers for my mother and some sort of western delicacy nobody was allowed to know about. I would often take walks on the beach, if there’s anything I miss terribly, it’s the wide sea and the calmness it brought with itself.”
“I love sailing,” I muttered, tucking my hands underneath my thighs as I hummed, “Despite what’s happened to my father, I find solace in the sea. It silences my fears, much like taking walks in the garden does. I feel like I belong to nature, that I can easily become one with it.”
“Nature is a beautiful place,” Yunho hummed, swiping his thumb against his bottom lip, watching me closely, “You’d love exploring the world.”
I chuckled sadly, “I would, Yunho, but I’m forced to rot away in this house under the very eyes of my servants and family. I can’t even be left alone here, sometimes I want it all to stop. Tell me, have you travelled a lot?”
Yunho looked abashed as he shrugged one shoulder, “Enough to see all sorts of places, people, and cases. Not each one had a happy ending, but I had learned something from each of them, so it was worth it in the end.”
“I wish to see the world, Yunho. I don’t want to be caged in here anymore. Could you set me free—no, will you set me free, Yunho?”
“I—I’ll try, I really will, Y/N. If you tell me the truth, I can help you and write a promising report on your case. But you have to be transparent with me for that to happen.”
“What if they don’t agree with you? See me as unstable and a danger to society, what then? Will I require a caretaker still?”
“I’m afraid, yes. Perhaps you’ll have even more severe surveillance, I’m sorry. I truly promise to do my best, but you have to trust me.”
“And what if…what if you became my caretaker?”
The silence that followed my question felt heavy, it felt wrong. I shouldn’t have asked that, but I was desperate to know how far Doctor Jeong would go to prove I wasn’t insane. And perhaps, a hidden sadistic part of me wanted to know just what exactly the doctor would do for me, to me.
“That would imply you are very unstable, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing.” Doctor Jeong breathed out, reaching for his spectacles.
“But would you become my caretaker?” I whispered, gazing up into his eyes with yearning as the doctor abruptly stood, “I wish to see the world, the places you go to. I wish to see South Korea once you’re allowed to go back, Yunho. Would you take me with you?”
He was packing his things frantically, breathing through his mouth loudly, “I cannot tell, Miss Harold, it implies great responsibility to look over someone unstable. Given if you were the object of my desires, I wouldn’t even consider becoming your caretaker, but I’m your doctor and it’s inappropriate.”
“Isn’t it only inappropriate if you make it that?” I stood, facing the doctor before he could run off. He looked conflicted and angry, so I backed off, “My apologies, I have taken you for granted and stepped over our boundaries as doctor and patient. I hope I haven’t made you too uncomfortable, Doctor Jeong, that’s not what I wished to do. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I will be back tomorrow, and you must tell me what happened, Miss Harold.” With a nod of his head, the doctor was at my door, quickly unlocking it, but he didn’t twist the knob right away. He took a deep breath and released it with a whisper, “And I would become your caretaker, if I could.”
His footsteps echoed through the house just as lightning struck in the distance. I walked to the window and watched the doctor get onto the motorcar as his butler drove away, trying to avoid the storm. And then, just like that, the world started spinning as blackness threatened to coat my vision.
My knuckles were bloody from having picked at the skin consistently since I was awake. The tremors from my hand have extended to my whole body, my head felt underwater. I couldn’t understand what was happening around me, but I jumped each time thunder rumbled the earth. I know I had been placed on a chair in front of the window in my bedroom, Matilda sitting in the corner with my mother regularly checking on me, but I couldn’t tell what was being said to me or done around me. I didn’t have an appetite this morning, and getting out of bed was harder than ever before. I knew something was wrong, that something had disturbed my peace of mind, but I had no idea what this sudden change in my mood meant. I tried to break through the veil of haziness and speak to Matilda, tell her that my head was throbbing and my joints ached from how wrung up my body was, but my lips formed no words. I tried using the breathing technique Mrs Humphrey had once taught me, but nothing was working. I wasn’t able to control my body, and it was only making me more anxious.
The door to my room opened, but I continued to look out the window absentmindedly, bracing myself for the loud rumble when lightning struck again. After the doctor left yesterday, it hadn’t stopped raining ever since. I knew he couldn’t make it today, but he was determined enough to push through the storm and visit me. Unless it was a serious issue that needed to be urgently taken care of, the doctor never cancelled our session. The thought of seeing him when I felt so unwell managed to calm my racing heart, but until he was actually standing in front of me and I could gaze into his deep eyes, I couldn’t help but take shallow breaths as my muscles tensed up even more.
“Look at you,” It was Karina’s voice unmistakably, “trembling and sweating like a dying child, aren’t you? Who are you acting for, hm? The doctor isn’t here, Y/N, no need to act all pitiful like this, nobody in this house cares about you.”
Her voice was crystal clear for some reason, it made my ears ring as I released a shuddering breath. My mind was so askew that I couldn’t even answer her, I just needed a warm embrace and a deep voice to whisper that everything was fine. Did nobody care about me? That was so depressing, it brought tears to my eyes.
“Besides, he’s not coming today.” I failed to inhale as Karina continued to speak, “He sent a letter to your mother that he couldn’t find a carriage in time, so he isn’t coming. How tragic, all this acting only for him to not witness it…”
The sound that left my mouth was quiet, but unmistakably a whimper. Matilda shifted in her armchair and cleared her throat. I could see Karina through the reflection of the window, she was smirking maliciously as she stared at the back of my head. She looked so pleased with herself, that it made tears stream down my cheeks. I wanted to say something, but the lump in my throat was getting tighter and tighter, I realised I had stopped breathing. Why wouldn’t Yunho come? Was he like Karina too, did he not care about me? Did he lie to me yesterday? Was I worth so little that he couldn’t take on being my caretaker? Why must this be my fate? Why must I be forced never to leave this estate, this house, trapped under the eyes of people who either hate me or pity me? I wanted to sob, but the more I tried to breathe, the quicker I realised dark spots had started appearing in my vision.
“I don’t know what you two do during your little sessions, but the committee has given him one more week before he has to make his final report,” Karina chuckled, I heard her coming closer, fingers gripping the back of my chair, “And then, he’ll be all mine. I already talked to my father and he considers Doctor Jeong a nice suitor, how exciting. You can’t have him, Y/N, and he won’t have you either. I see the way you look at him, you are pathetic.”
Karina’s warm breath fanned my ear and cheek as she whispered her last words, cackling like an evil witch in all those fairytales my mother had told me about. My mouth parted to inhale deeply, but the spots grew darker, becoming more.
“Miss Brooks, please,” I heard Matilda plead as she sprung up from her seat, “Leave young miss alone, she isn’t feeling well.”
“Oh, shut up, you silly goose!” Karina snapped at Matilda, throwing her a disgusted look, “You and everyone else who feeds into her delusions should be admitted to an asylum, get a grip! She’s fine, she just needs her daily dose of attention, stupid girl.”
Hearing the word asylum cracked something further inside me as I sprung up from my seat, eyes wide and body cold. I looked at where Matilda was standing, but all I could see was the face of the man who found great pleasure in cutting me open just to leave me bleeding and helpless. A scream tried to tear through my throat, but I lost my balance as I tumbled to the floor, fingers digging into the floorboards painfully. Someone shrieked as my stomach heaved, but there was nothing to empty. I could hear the man’s words, his tone unbearable and scratchy as he told me I was worthless and a whore, hungry for male attention ever since my father had died. It made my skin crawl, it made me feel dirty and disgusting as I tried to scrape at my arms.
“Mrs Harold!” I could hear the panicked screams, but I couldn’t tell where I was anymore. I felt caged and in danger, like someone was leering over my shoulder, waiting for me to pass out so I could be targeted. I whimpered when I felt hands on my back and tried to slap them away, but I was forcefully hauled up to my feet. A wail finally tore through my lips, and I started trashing around when I felt myself being lifted off the floor and carried somewhere.
“No! No, stop!” I screamed, my voice nothing but a screech as my nails sunk into whoever was carrying me, “Don’t take me back there! I haven’t done anything, please! No—no! I didn’t mean to—I don’t know—wait, no, please, I’m sorry, stop!”
My body sunk into something very soft and warm as fingertips pressed into my skin, forcefully prying my eyes wide open. My lungs heaved for air as I tried to get away from whoever was touching me, but I couldn’t, they were stronger. They were always stronger, I could never get away. They would never leave me alone, I was always their little experiment. They would cut me open as if I was a rat, they would ask me questions and whip me even if I told the truth, they liked to touch me and make me beg for them to stop…I wanted to die. I couldn’t do this anymore. Why would they torture me like this? Did my mother not love me? Had my father’s ghost abandoned me?
“Please.” I managed to whisper when my body finally froze up, all fight leaving it. My muscles and joints ached, my heart thumped wildly, and I couldn’t hear my thoughts anymore.
“My baby, please, stop.” A female voice pleaded above me, “Nobody is hurting you, tell me what’s wrong, baby. I’m here, your mother is here, please.”
How could my mother be here? The asylum didn’t let anyone visit us. My eyes burned when I opened them, but I couldn’t see well, they were filled with tears. There, looming above me stood the one man I yearned for. His eyes were kind and brown like the most expensive Swiss chocolate, his skin fair with a rosy flush to his cheeks that made him endearing, small spectacles slipping down the perfect slope of his petite nose. The doctor was here.
“Yunho, save me.” My voice was barely audible as I croaked out my words, but I noticed my mother’s eyes widening before I drifted off to the darkness that had come to claim my body. Here, nobody could hurt me.
But even in my dreams, the miscreants wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t tell where I was due to the darkness that enveloped me, but I felt frozen down to the bone. My summer dress did nothing to keep me warm, and the little friction to my arms only caused me to shiver more. I tried to call out to see if anyone was there with me, but my vocal cords wouldn’t even croak. My heart was racing and my eyes burned, I could tell I was in danger but I couldn’t see because of what. The impending doom I felt, however, said to me that I needed to run and that I needed to run now. So, I didn’t wait around as I grabbed the skirt of my dress and aimlessly took off, unable to see anything due to the permeating darkness. My feet hurt from all the little rocks that cut into it, and then something touched my cheek that made me cry out. It was warm, almost scorching hot against my frozen skin. There were whispers around me that I couldn’t make out, or understand even if I concentrated on them, but then one of them started making sense. It made more sense than the others, its timber familiar and warm, kind. Then, I could feel fingers tracing my left cheek, a calming hum easing my tense muscles until I could finally take a deep breath. It burned my lungs, it felt as if I was inhaling for the first time.
“Open your eyes, Miss Harold.” Then, just so that I only could hear it, the familiar voice whispered, “I’m here.”
A gasp tore through my lips as my eyes flew open, jolting me awake as I sat, frantically looking around. It was a lot darker in the room than the last time I was conscious, and the rain was hitting the roof of the house harder than before. Matilda, my mother, Mr Brooks, and Mrs Humphrey all stood at the foot of my bed, different emotions reigning on their faces. As I made eye contact with my mother, she let out a loud sob as she fell into Mr Brooks’ arms, and I felt my lower lip trembling. I hated seeing her in a state like that, worrying over me. Before I could cry too, my head was gently turned to the side until all I could see was the doctor. My mouth opened in shock as the doctor looked at me with sad, but worried, eyes, a wet rag clutched tightly in his other hand.
“Yunho.” My throat felt scratchy as I reached out incredulously, wondering whether I was just hallucinating. I noticed my bloody knuckles were bandaged now, ointment placed on the nightstand table next to my bed, “You are here? Really here?”
“Yes, Miss Harold.” He smiled gently, hesitantly letting me touch his jaw, “How are you feeling?”
“Sick,” I said before I could mule over my answer. My stomach was aching and my head was thumping, “I don’t know what happened to me, Doctor, I cannot remember.”
“Don’t try to remember now, your body and mind are overwhelmed,” Doctor Jeong then gently guided me to lay down in my bed once again, “You need to relax, Miss Harold. You fainted, and Miss Matilda has told me you haven’t eaten all day long, that’s unhealthy.”
“I’m sorry.” I felt like a child being chastised by their parent for the first time, except that Doctor Jeong’s face didn’t look even a little bit angry like my mother’s had back then, “I thought I would throw up if I ate anything, still do.”
The doctor hummed, then slightly turned to look back at the others in the room, “Mrs Humphrey, can you bring me that tea I asked you to brew? It will greatly help Miss Harold right now.”
“It’s storming outside, why did you come?” My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the doctor’s serene face, his spectacles were missing and his hair was a wavy mess on top of his head. Looking further down, I realised he wasn’t wearing his fancy suit. Instead, the doctor wore a beige tunic with the strings undone, showing a silver of his collarbones and chest. His silver cross dangled between his pecks whenever he moved forward to check for my temperature, letting the cold rag ease the thumping of my head. The doctor’s boots were still on his feet and looked muddy, but nobody was paying attention to that as he sat on the edge of my bed, taking care of me.
“I’m a doctor, my duty is to ensure my patients are healthy and safe.” Then he glanced back at my mother and Mr Brooks, Matilda had left the room with Mrs Humphrey, “You scared everyone, you scared me, Miss Harold.”
“Thank you for coming, but what you did was unsafe, Doctor Jeong.” I gulped, eyebrows furrowing in worry, “How will you get back home?”
“He will sleep here tonight, sweetheart.” Mr Brooks answered for the doctor, looking just as worried as I felt, “Can’t let him go out in this bad weather, it’s risky. I will ask the maids to make dinner for you, Doctor Jeong. The guestroom is already being prepared, your butler can sleep with the rest of the servants, if that is alright.”
“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.” Doctor Jeong bowed his head, smiling at Mr Brooks, “I’m sorry to say this, but Miss Harold should rest now and the more of us are in the room, the bigger the risk of overwhelming her is.”
“Oh, of course.” My mother whispered, her eyes glossy again, “Rest, my dear.”
I hummed as I watched her and Mr Brooks leave, leaving me alone with Doctor Jeong as the door closed after the two exited the room. I sighed long, looking at the doctor as he removed the rag from my forehead to wring it in more cold water. We said nothing as he placed the rag back onto my forehead, gently removing wet hair strands from my cheeks. He sat close to my body, but his eyes avoided looking into mine. I gulped, trying to find the right words to say just as there was a knock at the door. Doctor Jeong told them to come in and Matilda came inside with a tray and a cup of tea. She offered me a sad smile as she placed the cup of tea on the nightstand.
“Get some rest tonight, Matilda.”
“But you are not feeling well, young miss.”
“This is an order, how long until you faint from exhaustion? Please, I won’t leave my bed tonight, you shouldn’t either.” The maid looked hesitant, but didn’t say anything other than a quiet ‘thank you’, and then she was out of my room, closing the door after herself.
“Someone should check on you tonight, though.” Doctor Jeong said quietly as he helped me sit up, puffing up the pillows behind my back. He grabbed the cup of tea and handed it to me. It was still hot, its scent herbal. My nose twitched as I took a whiff of it before tasting it, cringing away from it, “It tastes horrible, I know, but it’s very good for your health. Drink it.”
It tasted so bitter I thought I would throw up on the spot, but it was supposed to make me feel better, so I toughened up and drank it as quickly as possible. The doctor watched me as I placed the cup on the nightstand, looking a little amused. I wrung my fingers together and placed them in my lap, looking down at my hands. I felt guilty for having forced the doctor to come all this way in such bad weather, yet he was looking at me with kind eyes and a soft smile.
“How do you feel now?” He asked, turning his body more to face me.
“Slightly better, my head isn’t thumping as violently as before, thank you.” I answered, sinking back into the pillows and cushions, “I think—this could be a grave accusation, but what if Karina is the reason I am like this?”
I couldn’t meet the doctor’s eyes as I chewed on my bottom lip, my thoughts whirling around too quickly for me to comprehend them. The doctor froze for a second, then I saw a hand reach out, only to settle on the blanket next to my thigh. I could feel Doctor Jeong’s body heat through the blanket, I wished he had placed his hand over my thigh instead.
“Why do you think that, Miss Harold?”
“May I call you Yunho?”
“Of course, Y/N.”
For a second, I paused and looked up with a smile. Yunho was already looking at me with a small smile on his lips, and I huffed a little embarrassed. Seeing him dressed so casually was doing something weird to me, my heart raced from excitement as I felt shy all of a sudden.
“Just like on that day, she was saying bad things to me again, antagonising me. I know she hates me, but I get so angry around her that sometimes I can’t even form words.” I gulped, eyebrows slightly furrowing as Yunho’s fingers twitched next to my thigh, “I wasn’t feeling well all day, but then she started speaking and I just—she brought the asylum up and I was back there again, being terrorised and touched—I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry, Yunho.”
“Let’s not talk about it, then.” Yunho’s jaw was clenched as he licked his lips, his forehead creasing as he leaned slightly forward.
“I don’t remember anything after that, even her words are muddy.” I felt helpless as my eyes bore into Yunho’s understanding ones, “Matilda was there the whole time, you can ask her what happened, I’m sure she’ll tell you everything. She hates Karina as much as I do, she wouldn’t lie for her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Y/N.” Yunho nodded once, then tilted his head to the side. I gulped, feeling nervous for no reason, “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight? Are you feeling tired?”
I hummed, playing around with my fingers as I looked down at my lap again. Yunho’s fingers were tapping the blanket, his breaths audible but even, “I feel spent, and I know I will be able to sleep, but I’m…scared to fall asleep alone.”
“I understand, I’ll let Mrs Harold know. Perhaps she could keep you company.”
“Yunho?”
“Yes, Y/N?”
“Can you stay until I fall asleep?”
My voice was quiet as I glanced up at Yunho through my eyelashes, feeling my cheeks heat up. He looked taken aback, then something I couldn’t recognise crossed his features for a split second. He exhaled through his mouth and gulped, loudly. He hummed, deep in his chest, and flattened his palm against the blanket as he shuffled his feet around until his muddy boots hit the ground. I realigned my pillows and crawled a little further away on my bed, to make more space for Yunho as he made himself comfortable, still on the edge of it.
“But I cannot stay once you are sleeping, I’m sorry.”
“I know, it’s alright, Yunho.”
Our smiles were small but appreciative. Yunho nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes raking over my face as I watched his cheeks flush a deep shade of red. It wasn’t warm in my room, but I suppose the sheets could make him feel warm too. His hand balled into a fist, grabbing a tight hold of the blanket as I glanced down at it.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”
“You too, Yunho.”
Every waking moment he spent thinking of her. Even in his dreams, she appears as a vixen, tempting Yunho to do unforgivable things. He knows he cannot, he’s her doctor and she’s a patient in desperate need of treatment. Yunho knows this, she isn’t his first case. He’s met people with manic episodes before, potential dissociative amnesia too, but something sets her apart from the rest. Yunho has never once in his life wanted to reach out and cradle one of his patients to his chest and tell them everything would be alright now that he was there. But when he saw her, so frail and generous, soft-spoken and kind, he couldn’t help but feel anger whenever she told him of Karina. Yunho had a feeling she wasn’t like that unprovoked, and the more he heard of Karina and her schemes against his patient, the more convinced he was that Karina had lied in the first place to get her into that asylum, far away from the safety of her home. Yunho knew what went down inside an asylum, he’s treated many mentally unstable patients before, straight inside those horror houses, and his blood boiled anytime he saw pain and terror strike upon her face whenever the asylum was mentioned. Yunho didn’t want to know, truth be told, what had happened to her there because he was sure he’d march up to that asylum and strangle every man who had hurt her. He was a doctor, his ego and fame protected him from making a mistake, but when she had led him inside her bedroom, Yunho was close to throwing it all out the window, quite literally. Her unique scent of hydrangeas had been so potent inside her bedroom, and her sitting daintily on the cushions of her queen-sized bed had his thoughts going haywire. Yunho wanted to touch her, not just tell her that she was safe and sound with him, but show her too. He was wanting and wanting, and he wondered if her story would have a happy ending. Could he save her from the madness they plastered over her head? Or would he dig her a bigger hole once the committee hears his verdict of her mental state? But what Yunho most importantly needed to sort out with himself, was the question that’s been mulling over in his head ever since she had uttered it. Would he be willing to become her caretaker? Just to keep her safe and away from Karina, of course, Yunho was a professional, above all. He told himself he didn’t have second intentions with her, but the more days passed by spent in her company, he couldn’t tell for sure anymore.
Karina was right about one thing, the committee had given Doctor Jeong one more week to sort out everything. He was right, I couldn’t beat around the bush anymore, besides, we had gotten close in my story to that faithful day. Doctor Jeong knew this, I knew it too. Because he was afraid of overwhelming me again too soon, he had given me two days of bed rest before he’d return to resume our sessions. The two days had gone by and I was nervously waiting for him in the foyer. After the storm passed, the heat returned even stronger. I didn’t wish to stay in the house, it aggravated me anytime I glanced towards the stairs, Karina’s injured body lying by the foot of it too clear in my mind. The doctor’s patent motorcar was louder today than other days as it rolled to the front of the house, where he was welcomed by Mr Allen, the gardener. He was an elderly man who had grown fond of Doctor Jeong like many others in the household. Myself included, which would explain why my heart was beating uncontrollably once again, sweat brimming my eyebrows.
“Will you be alright?” Leia asked as she shuffled past behind me, fresh bedsheets in her arms, “I don’t think Matilda will survive one of your episodes.”
Leia had no mal-intentions, she was just honest down to a pulp. I chuckled, glancing at her as she had stopped in the doorway to the laundry room.
“I might not survive another episode, too.” Leia’s eyes widened guiltily, but I continued to smile, “If the doctor writes a good report about me, I’ll finally be out of your hair, Leia. Pray for it.”
“I don’t believe in God, young miss.”
“Don’t let Doctor Jeong know that.”
Speaking of the devil, his knuckles rasped against the sturdy front door as Leia grinned, disappearing inside the laundry room. I opened the door before the doctor could knock again, welcoming him with a bright smile on my face. He paused, looking taken aback.
“Good morning, Doctor Jeong.” I greeted him, stepping aside to let him walk inside.
“Good morning, Miss Harold, you seem to be doing fine.” He returned a small smile as he shrugged his blazer off, wearing another tunic but fancier this time. It was a deep green, paired with his brown trousers which made him look like he was a huntsman returning from a long hunt to his wife, jittery to have her in his arms. I gulped, feeling embarrassed by my thoughts when I realised, I had imagined myself as the wife Doctor Jeong would return home to. It was inappropriate, but the thought was intrusive and fast before I could stop it.
“Thank you for letting me rest, it has helped.” I hummed, raising a hand when the doctor went to step out of his polished shoes, “Do you mind if we sit underneath the willow tree today?”
“Not at all,” The doctor beamed, taking me off guard, “I was just about to suggest it, you know we cannot postpone today’s topic. Being in a place you love might bring comfort, I hope, at least.”
“You are thoughtful,” I smiled, then led the way towards the tea room, the grand doors were pulled open, letting inside the fresh warm breeze. Mr Allen was in the doorway, trimming the bushes, but he made way for us when he spotted us. I offered him an appreciative smile as he raised his hand in a silent greeting, a straw of wheat between his teeth as he tipped his hat towards Doctor Jeong. The doctor bowed back to him politely before we made our way down the gravel path, headed towards the willow tree. The warmth today made me feel hot despite the thin summer dress I wore, its sleeves short with a sweetheart neckline. It was a sage green, a pretty contrast against my copper curls. Without needing to ask, Matilda has made a daisy crown to wrap around my bun. I felt pretty and safe covered in my favourite things, sitting underneath the willow tree as frogs ribbited down by the pond, bees buzzing by. The doctor got ready as he opened his satchel bag, taking his notebook and new pencil out. As we sat, I noticed our thighs brushing together, the doctor’s now musky cologne invading my senses. When he placed his notebook on his left thigh, twisting his upper body to face mine, the pages of it brushed against my own thigh too.
“In our last session, you spoke about visiting your father’s grave with your mother. You made him a daisy crown since he loved the flowers just as much as you do, and then, when you returned home, your once lover was waiting for you in the foyer.” Doctor Jeong’s tone was gentle but impersonal, he was a professional after all, “You stopped after you said you were fighting and it got…violent? You must elaborate on that, did nobody hear it? Did nobody help?”
I sighed, picking at the grass, “It didn’t get violent in the sense of a physical altercation, but our words were harsh and unforgiving. He called me many names that day, he broke my heart, Doctor Jeong. I know you are curious about what was said, and because it leads up to what happened between Karina and me, I shall tell you.”
The doctor was jotting down my words in his notebook, his hand flying over the page. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he pushed at his spectacles with his other hand. He hummed and briefly glanced at me when I remained quiet for too long. I had to brace myself, so, I took a deep breath and gazed at the doctor instead of at the house, finding my nerves calmer if I gazed at his beautiful face, and his chocolate brown eyes whenever he held eye contact.
“Matthew, the man I had once loved, was my fiancé. He had asked for my hand while my father was still alive, our love story goes way back. We’ve grown up together due to our father’s being friends, and chancefully had fallen in love too. He was always sweet and loving, he respected me, and always heard me out. I suppose that is what attracted me to him most, I could see a glimpse of how my father treated my mother in him. But we had our ups and downs too, he was way too jealous and hated it when I spoke to other men, meanwhile, I had no problem if he had female friends. After my father died…it was hard for me to come to terms with it, I was sad every day for a very long time. I didn’t want to see anyone but my mother, not even Matthew. He knew I needed time, but he was getting impatient, he was bringing up marriage more often than not, but I wasn’t ready yet. I had just lost my father and the thought of not walking down the aisle with him by my side just hurt too much.” I paused and licked my lips, pulling my knees up to my chest as I felt the doctor shift and lean even closer, “And then as my mother and I healed together, she found Mr Brooks. It took them a while to settle down, paperwork and whatnot got in the way as well as people talking nasty behind their backs, but when I found out Mr Brooks had a daughter too, I felt hopeful. I thought I would finally find a true friend, someone to share everything with. Karina was lovely at first, very kind and funny, I could easily consider her my sister even if we weren’t related by blood. But then, one evening we went out to a pub where she finally met Matthew, and things just…changed.”
Doctor Jeong hummed, still writing as I let my eyes take in his focused expression. His forehead was creased slightly as he chewed on his bottom lip, his neck flushed from the heat. I had also shifted more into his space subconsciously, and I had to refrain from tracing his brows before sinking my fingers into his smooth-looking hair, “You see, it wasn’t Matthew who had changed, but Karina’s attitude towards me. She became snappy and rude, she didn’t make it obvious, but I knew she was looking down on me. She barely talked to me now when my mother and her father weren’t around, but she somehow always found time to ask about Matthew. At first, I thought nothing much of it, I figured she might’ve not liked him too much and was looking out for me in an obscure way, but then I found their letters. Mr Allen was bringing in the post and I told him I would sort them out, so when I saw Matthew’s letter, of course I had assumed it was for me…except, it hadn’t been. It was addressed to Karina, and there were all sort of weird questions about me as if whatever Karina had said before had upset him.”
“Has Karina been sending him letters behind your back?” Doctor Jeong looked confused as he looked up at me, his round eyes narrowed and void of kindness. When the doctor was this serious, he looked almost frightening. But I knew he was kind and caring underneath that mask, so I didn’t care. I hummed and nodded, absentmindedly picking at the scabs that had formed over my bruised knuckles.
“Yes, and she was lying to him, saying very ugly things about me. Still to this day, I don’t understand why she did all of that. Leia says she’s blinded by jealousy and wants to be better than me, but unless Karina says it, I don’t want to believe it. Anyways, I didn’t confront Karina right away, I hurried over to Matthew’s house to talk to him.” I huffed sadly, looking at the doctor again, “He was just about to mount his horse and leave for the city, but when he saw me, he knew we had to talk. It turns out, Karina has been lying about me for months now, saying I was seeing other men behind his back and somehow even made up some evidence of it. She had sent him handkerchiefs that had been my father’s, claiming they were of those I was—sleeping with. She even told him I was badmouthing him and that I was only marrying him out of pity, and because my father had made me promise I would marry someone richer than my family. But—it was all lies! I loved Matthew, I always have! I wanted to marry him and have a nice household, but Karina took it all away from me. What he said to me…it had hurt a lot, and it still does, so I won’t repeat his words, but he broke off our engagement and told me to never appear in front of his eyes. I had loved him, Yunho…”
My throat clenched as I took a shuddering breath, eyes filled with tears. Yunho had stopped writing and looked at me with pain in his eyes, bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m sorry, you deserved better.”
I hummed with a sad chuckle and quickly wiped my eyes before the tears could fall. This was it, this is what Yunho had been desperately wanting to hear for a month now. I lowered my legs and looked at Yunho with a neutral expression, making his eyes widen minutely, “I know, but it’s okay. If God is watching like everyone claims him to be, Karina will be punished, and so will Matthew. I was a mess after that conversation with Matthew, and I cried all the way back home. My chest was clenching and my heart was thumping wildly, I thought that was what heartbreak felt like, and I still believe so. When I stumbled through our front door, Karina was just…there. Waiting for me in the foyer with an amused smirk. She didn’t even feign innocence as she asked what happened, she could clearly see Matthew’s crumbled letter in my hand. I won’t deny it, I said some very ugly things to her. I didn’t even let her speak as I exploded on her, I’m still surprised the house staff didn’t try to stop me. I have said this in my report too, but I struck first, I slapped her and pushed her back when she started laughing. She was only doing it to make me even angrier, and it was working.”
My muscles tensed as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, keeping it in my lungs as Yunho’s jaw was clenched, his eyes focused on my face as I continued talking, “I needed space, so I backed away before I could do anything really hurtful. My head was thumping and my body was shaking, I felt like I was suffocating. Karina just continued laughing as I hurried to the stairs, wanting to lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep. She was following after me, now cackling instead of laughing, and then she said something—something that I’ll never forget, ‘All that courting and playing around each other just to never even fuck him? Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything, sister, he’s not even good in bed.’ I saw red when I heard her say that, my thoughts were a mess and I didn’t even doubt the accuracy of her words. I just reacted, I know I slapped her again as I stopped on the stairs, but I couldn’t say anything as I was close to sobbing, so I just ran up the rest of the stairs, but she was still following after me. She was saying something, and I was screaming at her to shut up, but she wouldn’t. And I—I just really wanted her to shut up, to not look at me with those eyes and I just—I don’t know, Doctor, I don’t know. My whole body was shaking and I couldn’t see clearly, my head was aching and I couldn’t even hear anymore, I just—I just remember suddenly coming to myself again when there was a shrill screech. And then I remember Matilda looking at me with terror in her eyes as she called for Jesper and Mr Allen to come help, to call for a doctor.”
“In your report, you said—”
“I know what I said, Yunho, I said I turned around and gave her a backhanded slap, yanked on her hair and bashed her head against the wall before pushing her down the stairs.” Yunho’s eyes were shaking as our faces were close, “But I don’t remember doing any of those, the lawyer told me to say that to protect myself from a serious accusation. Matilda lied for me, and so did Mr Allen. In the end, Mr Brooks paid the judge and I was simply classified as insane, the case was swept under the rug and I’ve been forced to live like this ever since.”
“I knew there was something wrong with that report,” Yunho muttered under his breath, “But why did you lie?”
“I was young and scared,” I sighed, my eyes searching Yunho’s face for any judgment, but it wasn’t there, “I thought they would lock me up if I didn’t make up a story. But in the end, I was locked up in my own house for six years, a prison still, just different. I fainted in the court too, I don’t remember much from there either.”
Yunho looked troubled as his eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his bottom lip thoroughly chewed on, and his spectacles pushed up on his nose. With his free hand, he reached forward, but stopped just before his fingertips could touch my hand and instead balled it up into a fist and lowered it back into his lap. His jaw clenched as he gulped, shaking his head as he looked down at his notebook.
“I have a scar on my abdomen,” I whispered, hand pressing against my covered stomach, “from having fallen over and cutting myself, do you believe me, Doctor?”
When Yunho’s jaw just clenched and he didn’t look at me, I gulped nervously and reached towards my sleeves to pull them off, to let the dress pool at my waist, but one fleeting glance at me had Yunho reaching forward with a panic-ridden face, his eyes widening, “Stop, what are you doing? I believe you, Y/N, I do.”
His hands were big and warm, wrapped completely around mine as the sleeve of my dress swiftly slipped off my left shoulder. His thumb rubbed my bruised knuckles, and despite the sting, I welcomed the affectionate gesture as it covered my arms in goosebumps. I released a long breath, my eyes boring into Yunho’s. His eyes were easy to read, he looked conflicted and confused. I had no idea if he believed me, but I wanted him to. Hurting Karina was wrong, but she deserved it, and I was glad I managed to make her hurt at least once compared to how many times she had hurt me. But I remained silent as Yunho leaned even closer, our faces a breath away from each other. He gulped, loudly, then frowned. As I opened my mouth, he looked alarmed and scrambled backwards, letting my hands drop into my lap as he gasped, grabbing for his things frantically. I didn’t understand what was happening, but when I tried to help, he just pushed my hand away. My heart hammered in my chest nervously as sweat rolled down my temples, and I stood so quickly I got whiplash. Doctor Jeong was just about to take off towards the house when a desperate question left my lips.
“Will you save me, Doctor Jeong?” My voice was trembling just as much as Yunho’s hands, “Will you become my caretaker and take me away with you, will you?”
My questions went unanswered as Yunho ran off, not even bothering to go inside the house as he followed the cobbled path to the front of the house. The engine of his motorcar was loud as I slumped back against the tree with a dizzy head.
The committee was more eager than I had thought at first to wrap this whole thing up. Just two days after my last encounter with the doctor, a letter came at an early morning hour that the verdict would be given today. I was nervous, but I braced myself for the worst possible ending, which would be me being sent back to the asylum. I doubted I would survive that once again, so I could only hope the doctor had taken pity on me and would be generous in his report. My mother had been buzzing around the house all morning, making sure everything was perfect for the arrival of the committee. Cookies had been baked, fresh tea was brewed, the ground floor aired out with every corner dusted off, and the tea room was decorated with vases of freshly picked flowers. The grand doors were opened, creating a serene surrounding as I sat on the sofa by myself. Nobody was inside the room except for me, something which was rare. I gaze forward, at the visage, trying to commit it to memory. I wondered if I would get to see it tomorrow too.
Matilda had dressed me in a dainty white dress to feign innocence, with my hair pulled in a low bun, and daisies hanging out of it. It felt as if the ghost of my father was here to cheer me on, to offer me some braveness before everything would unfold. And it would, way too soon. There were loud knocks against the front door before it was opened, and six people piled inside our foyer. My mother and Karina quickly walked inside the room with my mother sitting next to me, meanwhile, Karina took her spot in her favourite armchair. The image was eerily similar to the first day the doctor had arrived, it made my heart race. The rest of my future was in the hands of another man, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I knew what I had done to Karina was wrong, but a small part of me knew that she had deserved it. My muscles tensed when Mr Brooks’ voice carried inside the tea room as he led the committee and Doctor Jeong inside. My jaw clenched and my hands balled into fists as they each walked in, eyes on me as I remained unmoving.
The committee consisted of the town mayor, the judge who had handled my case, the town’s richest married couple, and Father Louis, the head of our church. My stomach churned as the familiar faces sat down surrounding me, leaving space for Doctor Jeong at the front. Mr Brook sat next to my mother and held her hand, making my mother sigh loudly. I didn’t want to look at anyone, I was afraid to see what they hid in their eyes. The doctor seemed tense as he rolled his shoulders a few times, then cleared his throat and accepted the tea from Mrs Humphrey, who had insisted on staying in the room, in the back where she didn’t bother anyone. I couldn’t focus on anyone else but the doctor as he finally seemed like he was ready to speak up. He faced the room and his eyes took in everyone, staying on me for a second too long. I could see Karina sneer from my peripheral vision, but I didn’t care. I was just as curious to hear what Doctor Jeong had to say as the committee.
“Dear committee, Mr and Miss Brooks, Mrs and Miss Harold, and of course, Mrs Humphrey,” Doctor Jeong bowed his head lightly, “Thank you for coming, and I’d like to thank the committee for entrusting me with this intricate and peculiar case. I must say before I begin, that I have encountered cases like Miss Harold’s before, but neither one has been as complex as hers. I trust my personal judgement and everything I have learned up until this point, that my verdict is the right choice, and that if the committee sees it fit as well, it shall proceed with Miss Harold’s sentence accordingly.”
Doctor Jeong’s fingers were wrung together in front of him, his dark blue suit was perfect. He looked dashingly handsome with his wavy hair falling all over his forehead and into his eyes, his spectacles perched into the pocket of his vest. His warm eyes found mine for a second before he looked around the room again, nodding to himself. He took a deep breath and continued his speech, starting to pace around the front of the room. Him standing in front of the garden and the path that led to the willow tree was dreamy, “We all know that Miss Harold had lost her father when she was young, which would be hard news to swallow for a person at any age. I assume that his early death left Miss Harold traumatised in a way that could go unnoticed unless looked upon by a professional, which didn’t happen. Her stress and repressed pain had accumulated, waiting for a small spark to ignite the explosion, which did happen as we all know it. I spent a month daily by Miss Harold’s side, listening to stories of her childhood, and her adulthood, all leading up to the moment we’ve all been curious about. During my time studying her, I’ve come to observe that she is a very kind soul, attentive, and a generous person. She is soft-spoken and very sensitive to everything that happens around her, it is rather hard for me to imagine she could even as much as hurt a fly.”
I gulped, feeling my heart hammer in my chest as Yunho spoke with much conviction, his eyebrows furrowed as he stopped moving around, his eyes settling on Father Louis, “Her mental state, however, fluctuates a lot based on her surroundings, she easily reacts to the change of weather and the change of mood of a person. People like Miss Harold aren’t only in touch with their peers, but with nature as well, as insane as that might sound, it’s a rather special attribute to have. She’s had bad days during our sessions, and I had the chance to further observe the cause of this. As a psychiatrist, I do not enjoy lightly throwing out diagnoses, but I have to ensure the health of my patients. Miss Harold suffers from manic episodes that get triggered by certain words, environmental changes, and people. In Miss Harold’s stories, I have found one person who seemed to be always around her when these episodes happened, making me confident in my theory that she is Miss Harold’s trigger.”
The people in the room gasped as they looked around. My heart was hammering, I could feel my pulse in my throat, but I couldn’t help but let out an amused huff. Karina’s eyes were wide and her knuckles white as she gripped the armrest of the armchair, fear painting her face. It felt satisfying looking at her, and if I hadn’t known the doctor better, I would’ve missed the satisfied smirk on his lips there for a millisecond, “If this wasn’t about the health of Miss Harold, I wouldn’t be throwing out names so unabashedly, but this is to ensure her safety and health. Miss Brooks seems to like to pick on Miss Harold whenever she gets the chance, and she likes provoking her sister. Before anyone could deny my claim, I was witness to such a thing happening, Miss Brooks herself has said some very rude things about Miss Harold that no lady should utter, less about their sister, even if not related by blood. That being said, I cannot throw all the blame on Miss Brooks since Miss Harold is traumatised and doesn’t know how to handle it, or how to control her outbursts.”
Then, as if there was nobody else in the room with us, Doctor Jeong’s eyes found mine, his expression softening. Karina had started crying next to me, but I couldn’t care less as my mother was glaring at her, the committee didn’t look very pleased either.
“What she said in her report…” Doctor Jeong loosened his necktie a little, licking his lips, “Turns out to be true. In a fit of rage, she disassociated and acted upon instinct. I do not know if she had told anyone, but Miss Brooks had come between Miss Harold and her fiancé, breaking off their marriage. As someone who had been in love once, much like all of you in this room, I’d like to assume, we all know what it means to experience our first heartbreak. For someone who had grown up with this boy, loved him with their whole heart, and was supposed to grow old with them, to hear their engagement was broken off based on some lies made up by Miss Brooks not too soon after Miss Harold’s has lost her father must’ve been devastating. Thus, the trauma she had experienced before due to her father’s untimely death combined with another tragedy has made Miss Harold’s mind break, lose its bearings, making her unable to tell right from wrong.”
I couldn’t breathe as my eyes bore into Yunho’s, filling with tears. I had expected him to go against me for having lied in my report, or to try and go around the topic without bringing it up much, but no, he was actively lying for me and keeping up the image that I had a lapse of judgement all this time. My mother’s hand found mine as she squeezed it reassuringly, tears streaming down her cheeks. I glanced at her fleetingly, my body buzzing with life as my hands trembled. I wanted to see the faces of the committee members, but Yunho was all I could look at. There was a heavy sigh in the room, it could’ve come from Mr Brooks or someone else, I couldn’t tell.
“I’m very close to giving my verdict, so allow me to say this before that,” Yunho smiled softly, looking towards the committee with a gentle look on his face, but with a steely look in his eyes, “Miss Harold’s is a human like all of us in this room, and she is allowed to make mistakes. She’s been punished for her mistakes, probably unfairly, and we mustn’t make the same mistake again. I have concluded, that Miss Harold needs an environmental change for her to fully heal. This house no longer feels homey to her, she feels caged in and watched all the time, plus now you all know that Miss Brooks won’t leave her alone either. As a verdict, I have concluded that if the committee and her mother agree, Miss Harold could be assigned a new caretaker. And…before you make suggestions as to who could fit this role best, I would like you all to consider me as her new caretaker for the next year. I am a doctor, I know what to do and how to act in case she is having another episode. I will be leaving the country in a month to return to France, where my foster father has requested my presence. The environmental change would benefit Miss Harold greatly, that is, if you trust me, of course.”
I felt close to fainting by the time Yunho had stopped talking. Him, Doctor Jeong Yunho, my new caretaker? Could that be possible? Would the committee even let it happen? I had no idea, but I wanted to fall in his arms and sob as I thanked him for his effort, for listening to me, for trying to save me from this place. The committee erupted in whispered mutters amongst themselves, but Father Louis seemed more than pleased with Yunho. His brows were sweaty as he dabbed at them with the back of his wrist, his arms covered with the sleeves despite the heat. My mother wasn’t moving next to me, and Mr Brooks had turned his body away from Karina, who was trying to catch her father’s gaze insistently. Then, there was a tsk as the judge rose to his feet, all eyes falling on him.
“Thank you. Doctor Jeong, for your in-depth analysis and for the tabs and reports you’ve been keeping on Miss Harold this month, we appreciate it.” He rubbed at his chin, his hair already silver from age, “We have selected you, Doctor, to treat this delicate case because we have heard of your expertise. You have never once failed to treat your patients accordingly, and I find no reason to doubt your verdict, however, wouldn’t it be risky to take Miss Harold away from here? Couldn’t that trigger her madness even more? And if Mrs Harold won’t agree, she cannot go. Either way, we cannot let her go unless you promise to report back to us monthly, Doctor Jeong, and once the one year is up, you must return her home. She shall be reevaluated, then her fate will be decided for the future.”
When Yunho and my eyes met again, I knew my fate had been sealed. France, a new beginning by his side, sounded like a far-fetched dream that was now within my reach.
Yunho was a professional, except when it came to her. The lines had blurred long ago, he couldn’t tell who was the doctor and who was the patient when it came to her. All Yunho knew was that he could never let her go, not when she clung to him as if her life depended on him. Her lips tasted like honey and her moans were the prettiest music he had ever had the chance to hear, her skin soft and warm and her body so pliant underneath his. All it took was one touch from her for his whole being to crumble, he felt drunk on her, insatiable. Yunho knew he couldn’t let her return home, not now that he’d found Mingi too, not when the three of them were living in a tucked away village in a homey cottage, away from prying eyes. Yunho finally had what he’d been yearning for his whole life. His family was back, right within his reach, and even when he missed his home, he’d gaze upon Mingi and her, and realise that his home was here with them. And she was sweet like nectar, Yunho’s guilty pleasure that he just couldn’t get rid of—didn’t want to get rid of. He was a bad man for preying upon the innocent and unassuming ones, but may God forgive him for his sins, he was just a man after all. He knew he was bound to become insane like his patients one day, but Yunho was already a madman for her, and he didn’t care. Profession be damned, only the four walls of their cottage would truly know the truth, much like her amnesiac brain that had no desire to return to a land and home that’s treated her so horribly once. Here, Yunho was a complete man and he had wowed to protect what was his…no matter what it took. Mingi and her were staying there with him, forever.
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this is gonna be my bedtime story for the next month
SAN Arena Homme+ Korea x TAG Heuer
BEDTIME CALLS, lee seokmin.
⭐ ——— in which your sweet boyfriend facetimes you the night after his last show.
[ contents! ] short, fluff, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, seokmin is an idol, sleepy seokmin, mentions of tiredness, pet names: honey (reader's), seok (seokmin's)
[ from lyric! ] hi everyone! sorry its been so long :( school and work (and life in general) have just been so crazy this week, and even though it's spring break for me, i've had no time to chill or write. this is dedicated to @realmofclouds! it was her birthday recently <3
[ extra notes! ] for @k-records. word count is 735.
your back hasn't even hit the cushion of your bed when your phone flashes with your boyfriend's call.
"hey, honey. happy birthday," seokmin's voice is sweet when he greets you, but it holds a hint of tiredness to it. you smile at him as you wave, studying his soft brown eyes and sharp face now softened by sleep.
"thank you, seok. i miss you." you say softly, and seokmin nods, eyes filled with understanding as he shuffles under his blankets. you said it to him every night the two of you called, but it didn't make the statement any less true.
"i know," seokmin says after a moment of comfortable silence, and he sighs heavily, a small yawn escaping afterwards. "i'm boarding the plane tomorrow morning, and before you know it, i'll be home with you."
"i can't wait." you say, and seokmin nods, a sleepy-tinted smile on his face as he replies with a soft "me either."
"so...how has the tour been? was it fun?" you ask him, and seokmin nods, eyes blinking slowly as he speaks. "super fun. i love seeing carats at all of our shows so it's not that fact that discourages me. after a while, i think i just get super tired."
the laugh that escapes seokmin's lips is laced with that tiredness he speaks of, and you nod, remembering how high-energy seokmin stays for his fans. "that is true. your 'dk time' segments make me tired every time i watch them."
seokmin laughs, the sound low and soft against the speaker of your phone as he heaves a small sigh. "i run out of dance moves by the end of every tour, honey. sometimes i'll just throw in the chorus of one of our songs and hope it gets by."
the two of you laugh together at that one, voices mixing together in a way that comforts you both. if you imagine hard enough, seokmin's right beside you, playing with your hair and talking about his likes and dislikes when it comes to touring.
"i already got your birthday gifts." seokmin says softly after a few moments of silence, and you smile, shaking your head. "you didn't have to get me anything, seok. you coming home is more than enough for me."
"i know," seokmin acknowledges, brown eyes sparkling with love as he smiles softly before saying, "i still want to spoil you on your special day."
sighing, you put your hand under your cheek, watching your boyfriend lie in his own bed thousands of miles away from you. he is in his dark blue pajama set—the one you bought him for his birthday last year—all sleepy-eyed and smiley as he stares right back at you.
"you should probably get to bed. that phone looks like it's going to fall on your face at any moment." you tease, and seokmin snorts at that, sharp nose scrunching with the movement.
"i don't want to go just yet. i like hearing your voice." seokmin mumbles, face halfway stuffed into his pillow. you sigh, unable to hold back the smile that comes from your boyfriend's cuteness when sleepy.
"that's cute, but—" you start, but seokmin cuts you off, eyes sharp with intent. his eyebrows are creased together, but his eyes still hold that familiar softness to them when he starts speaking again.
"will you stay on facetime with me until i fall asleep? please?" his tone is so sweet you can't do much to refuse him—and the look in his sleepy face makes you feel even more inclined to do so.
nodding with a sheepish smile on your face, you agree, and seokmin's whole face lights up as if a second wind of energy has reached him.
"good night, honey," seokmin smiles, moments after you and him catch up a little longer. he's getting tired now, eyes struggling to stay open and lips struggling to form a sentence you can understand. "i love you, and...and i'm gonna see you. tomorrow, i'm gonna see you again."
"i know, seok. i'm so excited." you smile softly, and place your phone down beside you. seokmin does the same, giving a cute half-wave to the camera before he falls still on the other side.
it takes about thirty minutes before you hear a soft snoring coming from your boyfriend's end, and you whisper one more "good night" before ending the call.
when they decide to cook you something [ateez x reader]
Some may not know how to cook, but they all know how to love you.
boyfriend!ateez (separated) x reader | various settings Genre: fluff Warnings: suggestive content, mild sexual tension, flirting, teasing, clinging/overly affectionate behavior, minor accidents, alcohol (wine/beer), cooking mishaps, white lies wc: ~750 words each
masterlist
✧ seonghwa
The first thing you notice is the warmth.
Not just the food. The whole space feels different, like the air itself has been gently turned up a few degrees. There’s a quiet clatter coming from the kitchen, soft and careful, like someone trying not to be caught, except you already are.
You lean against the doorway.
Seonghwa stands there in half-focus, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly falling into his eyes as he concentrates on something simmering in a pan.
He doesn’t notice you at first, too absorbed in the slow rhythm of stirring, tasting, adjusting. There’s something almost sacred about it, the way he moves, like he’s building comfort from scratch.
“Since when do you cook?” you ask.
He startles just a little, then recovers quickly, lips curving in that soft, almost shy smile. “Since today,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“It smells amazing.”
“It’s simple,” he replies.
He doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Doesn’t announce it as a surprise or expect a reaction. Just gestures for you to sit, like this has always been the plan.
When the food finally lands in front of you, it’s perfect.
Warm, fragrant, the kind of dish that settles into your chest with the first bite. Comforting in a way that feels intentional, like he thought about what you needed rather than what would impress you.
“Tell me about your day,” he says.
And you do.
It comes easily, words spilling out in that unfiltered way they only ever do with him. You talk about everything. Small annoyances, passing thoughts, something that made you laugh earlier. It all blends together, your voice filling the space between bites.
He listens. Not interrupting. Not rushing you. Just there, nodding softly every now and then, eyes on you more often than on his plate, like the conversation matters as much as the food.
You barely notice when he finishes eating.
Not at first. It’s only when the rhythm shifts that you look up and catch him watching you. Wide-eyed. Hopeful.
There’s something almost childlike in it.
You blink. Pause mid-sentence. Then glance down at his plate. Empty.
A smile tugs at your lips, soft and knowing as you let out a quiet chuckle.
“You’re done already?”
He presses his lips together, like he’s trying to play it off, but the way his gaze flickers to your plate betrays him instantly.
You don’t make him ask. Just slide your plate a little closer to him, a silent offering.
His eyes brighten. Just slightly.
“Are you sure?” he asks, voice low.
You nod, already leaning back in your chair, reaching for your glass of wine instead.
“Keep eating,” you murmur, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He doesn’t hesitate long after that. His chopsticks slip into your plate with quiet enthusiasm, movements still neat, but there’s something undeniably pleased in the way he takes that first bite.
You keep talking. Because of course you do.
Your story picks up right where it left off, words flowing as easily as before, the wine warm against your lips as you sip between sentences.
He listens. Still. But now he’s eating too.
Every now and then, you catch the smallest smile pulling at his mouth, like he’s savoring both at once. The food. Your voice. The moment stretching comfortably between you.
You don’t mind. Not when he looks like that. Not when every few bites, his eyes flick up to you again.
At some point, your plate is lighter. Then lighter.
You pause, glancing down. There’s barely anything left. You laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you look back at him.
“Hwa.”
He freezes mid-bite. Slowly looks up. There’s the tiniest hint of guilt in his expression.
Tiny.
“You ate everything.”
“…You said I could.”
You stare at him. Then laugh again, warmer this time, leaning your elbow against the table as you study him.
“I didn’t think you’d actually empty my plate.”
He scratches the back of his neck, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “I… got carried away.”
Of course he did.
You reach for your glass again, taking another sip as you shake your head, fondness settling in your chest like something steady and sure.
“…I’m sorry,” he says quickly.
There’s a flicker of guilt in his expression, soft and genuine, like he truly didn’t mean to take it that far. He wipes his hands, already half-standing. “I’ll get you dessert. Ice cream, or—your favorite snacks, I know the place that—”
You reach out, catching his wrist before he can fully spiral into redemption mode.
“I’m not mad,” you tell him.
He pauses and searches your face carefully, like he needs to be sure.
“…Really?”
You nod, smiling, even if there’s still a hint of disbelief lingering. “You cooked for me. That already counts.”
Something in him softens at that.
The tension slips away, replaced by something quieter, warmer. He sits back down, closer this time, not across from you but beside you, shoulder brushing yours like it belongs there.
“Next time,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “I’ll make more.”
You lean into him just slightly, the warmth from earlier settling deeper now, not in the food, but in the way he stays close.
Next time.
Like there’s no question there will be one.
✧ hongjoong
You know something’s off the second you step inside.
Not wrong. Just unsettled.
The table is set carefully, almost obsessively so. Plates aligned, cutlery straight, a bottle of wine already open like it’s been waiting longer than you have. It’s expensive. You don’t even need to read the label to know that.
But the kitchen… The kitchen tells a different story.
There’s a pan in the sink that looks like it’s been through something. A towel tossed aside, slightly damp. The faint smell of something that almost went wrong but didn’t quite make it there.
Hongjoong is standing still when you find him, hands braced lightly against the counter, staring at the plate in front of him like it personally offended him.
“…Hey,” you say softly.
He looks up immediately, like he forgot you were coming for a second. “You’re here.”
You step closer, eyes flicking between him and the food. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
It’s very obviously not nothing.
You lean against the counter, close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm. He doesn’t move away but he doesn’t lean in either, still caught somewhere in his own head.
“I practiced this,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “Okay?”
“A few times,” he adds, jaw tightening just slightly. “I even called my mom.”
You glance at the plate again. It looks good. More than good. Thoughtful, plated with the same precision he always has.
“It doesn’t look like something went wrong,” you tell him.
“That’s the problem,” he exhales, frustrated now, finally turning to you. “It’s not right.”
There it is. Not failure. Expectation.
You soften instantly. Without thinking, you reach out, fingers curling lightly around his hand, grounding.
“Did you taste it?”
“Of course I did.”
“And?”
A beat.
“…It’s fine.”
You huff a quiet laugh. “That’s not an answer.”
He looks at you, something restless flickering behind his eyes. “It’s not what I wanted.”
You hold his gaze for a second longer. Then, gently, you guide him away from the counter, nudging him toward the chair. “Sit.”
He hesitates.
You squeeze his hand lightly. “Sit.”
He does. Still watching you.
You pick up the fork and take a bite.You let it settle properly, ignoring the way he’s clearly trying not to read your reaction too closely.
It’s good. Not perfect. Not flawless in whatever way he imagined. But warm. Balanced. Intentional.
You take another bite. Then another. And only then do you look up at him.
“This is really good,” you say.
He frowns immediately. “You don’t have to—”
“I’m not,” you cut in, softer but firm. You reach across the table, nudging his hand lightly until he lets you take it. “I mean it.”
He still looks unconvinced. So you tilt your head, studying him.
“You really called your mom for this?”
A flicker of something like embarrassment crosses his face. “…Yeah.”
Your thumb brushes lightly over his knuckles. “That’s insane.”
“That’s effort,” he corrects quietly.
“That’s you caring,” you say.
He goes still. The frustration doesn’t disappear completely, but it shifts. Loosens. Your eyes drift to the wine, the bottle sitting there like a silent backup plan.
“And this?” you ask, reaching for your glass.
He exhales, just slightly. “In case I ruined everything.”
You smile, nudging your glass lightly against his before taking a sip. “You didn’t.”
He watches you carefully as you take another bite, slower this time, like you’re proving a point.
“…It’s still not right,” he murmurs.
You shake your head, standing up just enough to lean across the table. Your free hand comes up, gently cupping his cheek, pulling his attention fully back to you.
“It is,” you tell him.
Before he can argue, you press a soft kiss to his lips, brief, grounding.
When you pull back, he’s quieter. Not convinced. But listening.
“You cooked for me,” you add, softer now. “You tried this hard. And I love you for that.”
His shoulders slump just a fraction, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“You really mean that?” he asks quietly, voice almost shy.
You nod, thumb brushing once along his cheek, lingering just enough. “I do.”
He exhales softly, eyes meeting yours, a small, satisfied grin spreading. For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, slowly, something eases in his expression. Not pride, not quite satisfaction, but something warmer. Something that stays.
“Eat,” he says after a second, quieter now.
You smile, sitting back down, reaching for your fork again.
And this time, when he refills your glass, his fingers linger just a little longer against yours, like maybe it doesn’t have to be perfect, as long as you’re still here, finishing everything he made anyway.
✧ yunho
The first thing you notice is that nothing smells wrong. Which, considering it’s Yunho cooking, already feels like a small miracle.
There’s a soft hiss from the stove, the clink of utensils, and underneath it all, Yunho humming low, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
You hover near the kitchen island, chin propped in your palm, watching him move with easy confidence. No furrowed brows, no frantic glances at a recipe. Just steady. Comfortable. Like he belongs here, even if it’s not something he does often.
“This feels suspiciously domestic,” you tease.
He glances over his shoulder, grin already in place, bright and unguarded. “Don’t get used to it,” he shoots back. “This is a limited-time event.”
“Wow. I feel honored.”
“You should be.”
He bumps your hip lightly when he passes, setting two plates down without ceremony. No perfect presentation, no careful placement. Just food that looks good in an honest way, like it was made to be eaten, not admired.
And it is good.
Simple, but exactly right. Warm enough to make you sink into your chair a little, flavors that don’t fight each other. You take another bite before you’ve even finished the first.
“Oh.”
Yunho pauses mid-motion, a beer can between his fingers. “Oh what?”
“It’s actually good.”
His eyes widen in mock offense. “Actually?”
You shrug, chewing slowly, letting the flavor settle. “I had low expectations.”
“Wow.” He cracks the beer open with a sharp hiss, handing it to you before grabbing one for himself. “The disrespect.”
You laugh, taking it anyway, the chill biting against your skin before the first sip smooths everything out. It becomes a rhythm after that. Bite, sip, laughter slipping easily between both.
Yunho talks with his hands, with his shoulders, leaning in and out of your space like he’s orbiting you without realizing it. He nudges your foot under the table. Steals a fry from your plate just to see your reaction. Smiles like he’s winning something invisible every time you roll your eyes.
It’s light. Easy.
The kind of moment that doesn’t feel planned, even if it was.
And then, somewhere in the middle of it, it shifts. Not all at once. Just a pause.
You’re mid-sentence when he leans closer, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hold on,” he murmurs.
His thumb brushes your lip before you can react, wiping away something you didn’t even notice was there. The touch is gentle, almost absentminded, but he doesn’t pull away right after.
His hand lingers. Cups your jaw, warm and steady, tilting your face just slightly toward him.
You go quiet. So does he.
For a second, it’s just the two of you in that small space, the faint sound of the stove forgotten, the air tightening in a way that feels different.
His gaze drops to your mouth, then back up, something darker threading through the softness.
“Dinner was nice,” he says, voice lower now, quieter, like it’s meant just for you.
You swallow, barely.
“But,” he adds, a hint of that familiar grin pulling at the corner of his lips, “I’m still hungry.”
There it is. That spark. Playful, yes, but not entirely.
Your breath catches just enough for him to notice. Of course he notices.
“Yunho—” you start, but it comes out softer than you intended.
He doesn’t let you finish.
His hand slips from your face to your wrist, fingers wrapping loosely but surely, grounding without forcing. “C’mon,” he says, lighter again, but his eyes don’t quite match it. “You can help with that.”
You huff out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, even as your pulse starts to pick up.
“The kitchen’s not even clean yet.”
“Future problem.”
You let out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, even as your pulse starts to pick up.
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
He doesn’t give you time to overthink it.
He’s already pulling you up, chair scraping softly against the floor, your beer left half-finished, forgotten on the table. The world tilts slightly as you follow him, his grip warm, steady, leading you down the hallway like he’s done it a hundred times before.
At the doorway, he glances back at you.
That same bright grin. But there’s something else underneath now. Something that lingers.
“Told you,” he says, quieter, “limited-time event.”
And somehow, the way he says it feels warmer than the beer, and twice as intoxicating.
✧ yeosang
The smell hits you before anything else. Not subtle. Not mysterious. Just unmistakable.
Burnt.
You pause right at the door, keys still in your hand, nose scrunching as the scent curls its way into your lungs like it owns the place. There’s a faint haze in the air too, barely visible but definitely there, clinging to the light.
“…Hello?” you call out, already stepping inside.
A window slams open somewhere down the hall. Then another.
By the time you reach the kitchen, you find Yeosang moving quickly but somehow still quiet about it. One hand pushing a window up, the other fanning the air with a dish towel like that’s going to fix anything.
“Baby?”
He freezes. Slowly turns around. And there it is.
The pout.
It’s immediate. Full force. Lips pushed forward just enough, eyes wide and soft, like he’s been caught in the middle of something he can’t talk his way out of. There’s a faint smudge of something on his sleeve, his apron slightly crooked. Evidence of a battle that clearly did not go his way.
You blink at him. Then at the stove. Then back at him.
“…What happened?”
He doesn’t answer. He just looks at you. Still. Quiet. Like maybe if he doesn’t speak, the situation will dissolve on its own.
It doesn’t.
The faint crackle from whatever’s left in the pan says otherwise.
You take a cautious step closer, peeking past him. “Were you—”
He exhales softly, almost inaudible. Then, without a word, he reaches behind his back and unties his apron. It slips off slowly, like a white flag being lowered.
You watch, confused but also weirdly entertained.
“Yeosang,” you try again, softer now, “did you try to cook?”
A tiny nod. That’s it. No defense. No excuses. Not even an attempt. Just quiet acceptance of defeat.
You watch, lips twitching. “That bad?”
Another pause. Then another nod.
You bite back a smile. “For me?”
This time, he hesitates. Then nods again, smaller.
That does something to you.
You reach out without thinking, fingers brushing his arm lightly. He leans into it immediately, like he was waiting for it, like he needs it just a little.
Before you can say anything else, he sets the apron aside neatly, like the kitchen isn’t still recovering from a minor disaster. Then he reaches for his keys, movements calm, as if this was always the backup plan.
“Wait,” you laugh lightly, following him a step. “You’re just giving up?”
He looks at you again. The pout hasn’t left. If anything, it’s worse up close.
“I burned it,” he says simply.
There’s no frustration in it. No embarrassment loud enough to fill the room. Just a quiet statement of fact, like the conclusion of a very short story.
You bite back a smile. “I can see that,” you murmur, stepping even closer now.
He doesn’t pull away.
If anything, his hand slides from your wrist to your sleeve, holding lightly like he’s pretending it’s casual, but not letting go.
“You know,” you add, tilting your head, teasing just a little, “you could’ve just ordered food and impressed me instead.”
His lips press together, pout deepening. “I was trying to impress you.”
You soften instantly.
“You did,” you say, nudging his shoulder gently.
He huffs quietly, not fully convinced, but he doesn’t move away when you step into his space. His hands settle at your waist now, tentative at first, then a little firmer when you don’t protest.
“I’ll pay for dinner,” he says, like it’s the only solution.
“No redemption arc?” you tease. “No dramatic second attempt?”
He shakes his head, already guiding you toward the door, hand warm and steady at your back.
“Safer this way.”
You laugh under your breath, letting him lead you. But you don’t miss the way he keeps you close, fingers curling slightly into your side like he doesn’t want to drift too far after that.
Right before you reach the door, you tug him back just a little.
He looks down at you, confused for half a second. Then you lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Soft. Reassuring.
“You’re cute,” you murmur, lips still close to his.
“I’m not cute,” he says immediately, quieter than usual, like he doesn’t have the energy to fully commit to the argument.
“Very cute,” you repeat.
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he’s given up on correcting you, but there’s a faint flush creeping up his neck now.
“Let’s just go,” he mutters, hand finding your back again, a little firmer this time as he guides you toward the door.
You let him, but not without one last nudge to his side.
“Adorable, actually.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
He opens the door, still pretending to be unimpressed, but his hand lingers at your waist just a second longer than necessary.
“I’ll try again,” he says after a beat.
Not defensive. Not rushed. Just quiet determination.
You glance back at the kitchen one last time, then at him.
“Next time,” you add lightly, “I’m supervising.”
He considers that, then nods, serious like it’s a real arrangement.
And just like that, the failed dinner turns into something else entirely. Something lighter, warmer, carried in the way his hand lingers at your back as you step out, already taking care of the rest.
✧ san
Dinner had been ready when you got home.
Already plated, still warm, the table set like it meant something. And San—standing there the second you walked in, slipping into that ridiculous waiter act without a word. A small bow, a flourish of his hand toward the chair, the picture of politeness that didn’t quite hide the grin tugging at his mouth.
He’d pulled your chair out, guided you in with a light touch at your back, circled the table like he was performing for an audience of one.
You barely had time to take it in before it all blurred into this.
“Open.”
You barely have time to react before San is already there, leaning into your space, fingers tilting your chin just slightly as he brings the fork to your lips. His eyes don’t leave yours.
You laugh under your breath, but you still listen.
“Bossy,” you murmur, letting him feed you anyway.
He hums, pleased, like he’s just proven a point.
The food is unexpectedly good.
Not just edible. Not just decent. Actually good. Balanced, warm, with just enough flavor to make you pause mid-chew and look at him differently.
“You didn’t make this,” you accuse lightly, narrowing your eyes.
San grins, slow and lazy, like he’s enjoying the challenge. “Wow. No faith in me?”
“I have some,” you shoot back. “But this?” You take another bite, considering. “This feels suspicious.”
He leans closer instead of answering, brushing his thumb along the corner of your mouth, catching something that isn’t even there. The touch lingers, just a second too long to be casual.
“Eat,” he says softly.
You do. And it becomes a thing.
He keeps feeding you between his own bites, slow, like he’s pacing the entire moment on purpose.
A soft kiss pressed to your cheek after you swallow. Another at the corner of your lips when you laugh. His hand is always somewhere. Your wrist, your shoulder, your thigh. Never overwhelming, just constant.
It’s warm. Intimate in that quiet, consuming way that makes everything else blur out.
“You’re very proud of yourself,” you murmur at some point, glancing at him over the rim of your glass.
“I should be,” he says easily.
And for a second, you almost believe it.
Then a loud crash explodes from somewhere behind you, followed by a muttered curse that absolutely does not belong to either of you.
San goes still.
“What was that?” you ask as you turn.
And there’s Wooyoung.
Halfway to the door, arms full with containers, utensils, a bag slung awkwardly over his shoulder like he tried to carry everything at once. A lid clatters to the floor at his feet, joining the mess of things he clearly didn’t plan on dropping.
He freezes when he sees you. You freeze when you see him.
The room holds its breath.
San exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face.
“…I told you to be quiet,” he says, voice low, edged with disbelief.
Wooyoung blinks. “I was quiet.”
“You just dropped half the kitchen.”
“That was one thing,” Wooyoung shoots back immediately, defensive even as he shifts the stack in his arms. “And it slipped.”
San stares at him. Then at the containers. Then back at him.
“…Out.”
Wooyoung huffs. “Wow, no appreciation—”
“Out,” San repeats, sharper this time, already pointing toward the door.
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but he listens, stepping carefully around the fallen lid, juggling everything like it’s barely under control. Right before he slips out, he glances at you, lips quirking.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
It clicks. Fully, this time.
You blink, then laugh, soft and surprised. “Thank you!”
The door shuts before he can hear it.
Silence settles again. A little crooked. A little louder than before.
You turn back slowly. San isn’t looking at you.
He’s sitting there, shoulders slightly tense now, one hand coming up to cover part of his face like he suddenly doesn’t know where to put himself.
“…San,” you start.
“No,” he mutters, half-laughing under his breath. “Don’t—”
You don’t listen. You move closer, catching his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his face before he can hide completely. He resists for half a second, just enough to show he’s flustered, then lets you.
There’s a faint flush across his cheeks now. Different from before. Softer.
“You planned this?” you ask.
He shrugs, not quite meeting your eyes. “I helped.”
You smile. Then lean in, quick and light, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Thank you,” you murmur.
His gaze snaps back to yours, something warm breaking through the embarrassment, something that lingers.
“…You liked it?” he asks, softer now.
You nod, hands settling lightly against his chest. “I did.”
His expression shifts again. Familiar, teasing creeping back in, but gentler this time, less performative, more real.
“Good,” he murmurs, fingers finding your thigh again, not as insistent as before, just there.
You glance once toward the door, toward the evidence of what just happened, then back at him.
“Next time,” you add lightly, “you’re cooking too.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“…We’ll see.”
But he doesn’t pull away.
And this time, when he leans in, it’s slower, less about distraction, more about staying right there with you, the chaos fading into something softer, something that still feels a little like his, even if he didn’t do it alone.
✧ mingi
You know it’s going to be good before you even taste it. Not because of the smell, but because of Mingi.
He’s hovering. Not subtly. Not casually. Just there. Tall frame lingering a little too close to the table, hands fidgeting like they don’t know where to land, eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he’s waiting for something.
“Sit,” he says, trying for confidence.
It almost works.
You do, biting back a smile as he sets the plate in front of you with surprising care. There’s a lot of food. More than a lot, actually. The kind of portion that suggests he lost track somewhere along the way.
His fingers brush yours for a second when he lets go of the plate.
You glance up at him. “Are we feeding a small army, or—”
“Just eat,” he cuts in quickly, ears already tinged pink.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
You take your first bite. Then another. And this time, your reaction isn’t exaggerated, it just happens.
“Mingi.”
He freezes.
“This is really good.”
His eyes widen just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that exact wording. “Yeah?” he asks, trying to sound normal and failing just a little.
“Yeah,” you nod, leaning forward like you’re inspecting it more closely. “No, seriously. This is—” you take another bite, slower this time, “—this is actually amazing.”
The effect is immediate. His shoulders lift, then drop, like relief just washed through him all at once. A grin breaks across his face, wide and bright and completely unguarded.
“Really?” he repeats.
You hum, nodding again. “I didn’t know you had this in you.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, ducking his head slightly, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s not that hard, I just—”
“It’s better than not hard,” you interrupt smoothly. “It’s good.”
The blush deepens, spreading across his cheeks, creeping down his neck like it’s chasing the praise as it lands. He looks away for a second, smiling to himself like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
So you keep going. On purpose, now.
“This might be the best thing I’ve eaten all week,” you add, tapping your fork lightly against the plate. “Maybe all month.”
“Mmm—okay, that’s—” he huffs, half-laughing, half-flustered, but he can’t hide how his smile stretches even wider.
You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “What? You don’t believe me?”
“I do,” he says quickly. Then, softer, “I just… didn’t think you’d like it that much.”
“Well, I do,” you shrug, completely unapologetic. “A lot.”
He exhales through a grin, eyes dropping again, shoulders curling in just slightly like he’s trying to contain something that’s already spilling over.
You take another bite.
Then glance up at him, casual.
“Can I have more?”
He doesn’t even process the words fully before he’s moving.
“Yeah—yeah, of course—” he’s already halfway to the kitchen, grabbing the pot like it’s the most important thing in the world.
On his way back, he slows just enough to lean down, pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head like it slips out of him without thinking.
You smile before you can stop yourself.
He piles more onto your plate. A little too much.
Then hesitates. “Is that okay?”
You reach out before answering, catching his sleeve lightly and tugging him closer just enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It’s perfect,” you say.
That does it.
He stills for a second, blinking, blush flaring all over again like you just reset it.
“Good,” he murmurs, almost to himself, softer now.
You eat. He watches.
Not in a way that’s intense. Just attentive. Quietly pleased every time you take another bite, like each one confirms something he was hoping for.
His hand finds the back of your chair at some point, fingers idly brushing against your shoulderblade like he needs to stay close somehow.
After a moment, he leans back slightly, glancing at the still-full pot.
“I, uh… might’ve made too much,” he admits.
You raise a brow. “Might’ve?”
He laughs, a little embarrassed. “We’re probably eating this for a week.”
You pretend to consider it, tapping your fork thoughtfully against your lips. Then you smile.
“I don’t mind.”
His gaze lifts to yours again, something soft settling in it, something that lingers a little longer this time.
“...Sure?” he asks.
You nod, taking another bite like it’s proof.
“Yeah.”
And just like that, he looks happier than he did a second ago, like the idea of you coming back for more, again and again, is better than getting it perfect just once.
✧ wooyoung
You weren’t supposed to be here yet. That much is obvious the second you step into the apartment and hear him.
“—no, no, no, that’s not how you—”
Wooyoung freezes mid-sentence, wooden spoon in hand, eyes snapping to you like you just tripped an alarm.
There’s a second of silence he breaks quick.
“…You’re early.”
You blink. “Hi to you too?”
His gaze flicks to the counter, to the half-prepped ingredients, to the stove, to the table that’s almost set. You can practically see the plan collapsing in real time behind his eyes.
Then he exhales. Fast.
“Okay,” he decides, clapping once. “Fine. You’re here. We adapt.”
You barely have time to process that before he’s already moving toward you, grabbing your wrist and tugging you further into the kitchen like you’ve just been reassigned.
“Take that,” he says, pressing a knife into your hand.
You stare at it. Then at him. “Excuse me?”
“Chop. Small pieces. Not whatever you think small means—actual small.”
You let out a laugh, incredulous. “I walk in and immediately get put to work?”
He leans in, close enough that you feel his breath brush your cheek, voice dropping just slightly. “You ruined the surprise,” he murmurs. “Now you’re part of it.”
And then he’s gone again, spinning back to the stove like a conductor reclaiming control of his orchestra.
You shake your head, but you start chopping anyway.
“Careful,” he calls without looking. “I need your fingers intact.”
“I’m doing fine,” you shoot back.
He glances over.
“…That is not fine.”
You gasp. “It is fine!”
“It’s uneven,” he counters immediately, already stepping back over. He reaches around you, adjusting your grip on the knife, his hand warm over yours. “Like this. Control it.”
Your breath catches for half a second.
He notices. A slow grin spreads across his face, smug and dangerous. “Distracted already?”
“You’re literally hovering,” you mutter.
“Because you need supervision.”
He nudges your shoulder with his, teasing, then taps the counter lightly. “Again.”
You try. He watches.
“Better,” he allows after a second, like he’s granting you something.
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.
It doesn’t get calmer after that. If anything, it gets worse.
He has you stirring something on the stove while he plates something else, reaching past you, around you, brushing against you every chance he gets like it’s part of the process.
A quick pinch at your side when you least expect it. A light tap of the spoon against your wrist when you’re too slow.
“Focus,” he scolds, but he’s grinning.
“You’re the one distracting me!”
“That’s because you’re fun to distract.”
You elbow him lightly. He laughs, then steals a taste from the spoon you’re holding, eyes lighting up.
“See?” he says, nodding toward the pan. “Better already.”
“You didn’t even let me do anything yet.”
“Your presence is improving it.”
“Wow.”
He winks.
By the time everything comes together, it’s impressive.
Not just the food, but the way it’s plated, the way the table finally looks complete like he originally imagined. Like chaos somehow folded itself into something precise.
You glance at him as you sit.
“So,” you say slowly, “this was supposed to be a surprise?”
He leans back in his chair, studying you with that same smug satisfaction, but softer now, warmer.
“It still is,” he says.
You raise a brow. “How?”
He gestures between you and the food. “You made half of it.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Under extreme pressure.”
“Under excellent guidance,” he corrects.
You take a bite.
“…Okay, this is really good.”
His smile softens just a little, pride slipping through the cracks of all that teasing. “Told you.”
You glance at him over your fork. “So your secret is bullying me into helping?”
“Encouraging,” he says smoothly.
You snort.
He leans forward slightly, resting his chin in his hand as he watches you take another bite, something gentler settling in his expression now.
“Tastes better, right?” he asks.
You tilt your head, considering, then nod.
“…Yeah.”
His smile shifts, less smug, more something else.
“Exactly.”
And even as he reaches over to fix the way you’re holding your fork, his touch is light, familiar, grounding.
Controlled chaos. But always, always taking care of you in the middle of it.
✧ jongho
It feels intentional. Not in a loud way. Not like something staged or overly thought out. Just quiet care, woven into everything you notice the longer you sit there.
The table is set neatly. Not fancy, not dramatic, but careful. Plates aligned, utensils placed just right, a glass already waiting for you like he knew exactly when you’d arrive.
Jongho moves around the space with that same calm presence, steady and unhurried. There’s no rush to him, no need to fill the silence. Just small, precise actions. Setting things down, adjusting something by a fraction, making sure everything lands exactly where it should.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, watching him.
He shrugs lightly, like it’s nothing. “I wanted to.”
That’s it. No big explanation. Just that.
When he finally places the food in front of you, it looks good. Really good. The kind of meal that feels complete without trying too hard.
You glance up at him. “Since when do you cook like this?”
“I can manage,” he says.
You narrow your eyes slightly, but you let it go. For now.
Because the first bite? Perfect.
No hesitation. No adjustment period. Just immediate, quiet satisfaction settling in your chest like something clicking into place.
“Oh,” you breathe, almost involuntarily.
Jongho watches you carefully, not obvious about it, but you catch it. The slight stillness, the way he waits without asking.
“This is really good,” you tell him, softer now.
He nods once. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He takes another bite. “Eat before it gets cold.”
You do. And the more you eat, the more it settles in. Not just that it’s good, but that it’s familiar. You slow down. Take another bite. Tilt your head just slightly.
Jongho’s gaze flicks to you. “What?”
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you take one more bite, thoughtful now, letting it sit on your tongue like you’re searching for something specific.
“…Hold on.”
He stills.
You point your fork at him, narrowing your eyes properly this time. “This tastes familiar.”
“It’s food,” he says simply.
“Don’t do that,” you shoot back immediately. “I know this flavor.”
A beat. Two.
His gaze drops briefly to his plate.
Ah.
You lean forward slightly, a slow smile creeping in. “Jongho.”
Silence.
“Did you—”
He exhales. And folds. Not dramatically. Not defensively. Just a small, almost shy shift in his posture, shoulders dipping a fraction as he glances away.
“…It’s from your favorite place,” he admits.
There it is.
You stare at him for a second. Then burst out laughing, soft and warm, a little teasing. Not mocking. Just warm, surprised, a little delighted at the reveal.
“Babe… you plated takeout? And you pretended you cooked it?” you ask, incredulous.
He frowns, trying to sound serious, but it cracks almost immediately. “It’s… it’s nicer this way!”
You look down at the plate again. At the way it’s arranged. The care in the portions. The way it doesn’t look like takeout at all unless you know.
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Nicer? Jongho, you arranged the containers on a plate and called it a masterpiece!”
He can’t help it. A small laugh escapes him too, a little shy, a little guilty. “Well… it’s still thoughtful!”
“You know,” you say, glancing back at him, teasing slipping easily into your tone, “you could’ve just left it in the containers and saved yourself the dishes.”
He looks at the plates. Then back at you. Considers it.
“…No.”
You snort.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing loosely. “That’s not the same.”
And he means it. You can hear it. The quiet sincerity sitting underneath everything else.
So you soften. Just a little, still giggling. “It’s not,” you agree, still teasing.
For a moment, neither of you say anything. You just take another bite, slower now, more aware of what’s behind it. Not the cooking. But the effort. The thought. The way he wanted it to feel like more than it was.
“It’s still really good,” you add, glancing at him again.
He nods, a little more relaxed now, though there’s still a hint of shyness lingering at the edges. “I knew you’d like it.”
You smile, leaning back slightly in your chair.
“Next time,” you say casually, “you should actually cook.”
His brows lift just a fraction.
“…Next time?” he repeats.
You shrug, like it’s obvious, taking another bite like it seals the deal.
“Yeah.”
Something shifts in his expression at that. Subtle, but there. He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you for a second longer than necessary, something thoughtful settling in his gaze.
Then, quietly, “okay.”
And somehow, that simple word feels just as intentional as everything else tonight.
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who we were
pairing : childhood best friend! yunho x fem! reader
synopsis : You reunite with someone you once loved, but he doesn’t remember you—and thinks you’re joking. While he tries to start over, you’re left holding onto a love that only you remember.
genre : slice of life, romance(?), fluff, strong angst, emotional drama, bittersweet, closure
warnings : none
author’s note : there will be another part for this so do lmk if yall wanna be tagged when i post part 2 😋 anyways hopes yall enjoy 🤍
word count : 5.6k
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You don’t expect it to be him.
Not here. Not like this.
Not in the middle of something as ordinary as a grocery store, where fluorescent lights hum softly overhead and someone nearby is arguing about which brand of instant noodles tastes better.
It’s stupid, really—how something life-altering happens in a place that smells faintly like detergent and overripe fruit.
You’re reaching for a carton of milk when you hear it.
A laugh.
Bright. Warm.
Familiar in a way that doesn’t make sense at first, because it doesn’t belong to your present—it belongs to something softer, something older, something you’ve spent years trying not to touch too much in case it breaks.
Your hand freezes midair.
No. It can’t be.
But your heart—
Your heart already knows.
You turn.
And there he is.
Jeong Yunho.
He hasn’t changed in the ways that matter.
He’s taller—maybe—he’s always been very tall. Broader shoulders. A little more defined, a little more grown into himself.
But the essence of him is exactly the same.
He stands like he always used to, relaxed and open, like the world has never given him a reason to close off. His smile stretches wide, all teeth and warmth and something unbearably kind.
A giant puppy.
That’s what everyone used to call him.
That’s what you used to think every time he looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen.
And right now—
He’s looking at someone else like that.
You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until your chest starts to ache.
He’s standing by the snacks aisle, laughing at something his friend said, head tipping back slightly. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and it’s so him that it almost feels cruel.
Because nothing about him suggests that anything was ever lost.
Nothing about him suggests that he ever left you behind.
Your grip tightens around the milk carton.
You could leave. You should leave right now.
You could turn around right now, walk to the checkout, go home, pretend this never happened. Pretend that the boy you spent years loving isn’t standing ten steps away from you, alive and real and within reach for the first time in so long.
You should leave.
Instead—
You walk toward him.
It’s instinct. It’s muscle memory.
It’s the same pull that used to guide you through crowded hallways just to end up next to him without thinking.
Step. Step. Step.
Each one feels heavier than the last, like you’re walking straight into something you won’t survive.
He notices you before you’re ready.
Of course he does.
Yunho has always been like that—aware in the gentlest way, like he pays attention without making it obvious.
His laughter tapers off as you approach, his attention shifting.
And then—
He looks at you.
Really looks at you.
And your heart—
It stops.
Because for one fragile, stupid, desperate second, you think he knows.
You think something will flicker across his face—recognition, surprise, something that says oh, it’s you.
Something that says you weren’t the only one who remembered.
But instead—
His smile widens.
Friendly. Easy.
Completely unguarded.
“Hey,” he says.
The word lands softly.
Casually.
Like he says it to strangers all the time.
Like you are one.
You swallow.
Your throat feels too tight, like your body already understands something your mind is still trying to deny.
“Hi,” you reply.
Your voice sounds smaller than you expect.
He tilts his head slightly, studying you—not in recognition, but in curiosity.
You can see it happening.
That gentle, thoughtful expression he always had when he was trying to place someone.
Except—
He doesn’t.
He just smiles again.
Polite. Waiting.
Waiting for you to explain why you’re standing in front of him.
Your chest tightens.
“It’s me,” you say, and there’s a laugh in your voice that you don’t mean. “From high school?”
There’s a pause.
A beat.
And then—
He blinks.
Once. Twice.
And then he laughs.
Light. Bright.
Completely at ease.
“Oh—wait,” he says, grinning, like you’ve just told a joke. “You’re kidding, right?”
Something inside you cracks.
You don’t laugh.
But he does.
Because to him, this is funny.
“You almost got me,” Yunho continues, shaking his head, still smiling. “I was about to say I don’t remember, and that would’ve been really embarrassing.”
Your fingers curl slightly at your sides.
“I’m not joking,” you say.
It comes out quieter this time.
Softer.
But it doesn’t matter.
He’s still smiling.
Still amused. Still under the impression that this is some kind of playful bit.
“Wait, seriously?” he asks, eyes lighting up—not with recognition, but with curiosity. “Okay, okay—give me a hint.”
A hint.
Like you’re a game. Like you’re something he needs to solve.
Your heart starts to pound, uneven and wrong.
“We sat together,” you say. “English class. You used to—” your voice falters for half a second before you force it steady, “—you used to steal my pens because you said mine wrote better.”
He laughs again.
God.
“No way,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “That sounds like something I’d do, not gonna lie.”
Your chest aches.
“It is something you did.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, still smiling, like he’s entertained. “Wait—did we, like, talk a lot? Or—”
“We were best friends.”
The words slip out before you can stop them.
They land between you.
Heavy. Real.
And for the first time—
His smile falters.
Just a little.
Not because he remembers.
But because the tone of your voice doesn’t match the joke he thinks this is.
“…Oh,” he says.
There’s a pause.
You can see it now—the shift.
Confusion. Uncertainty.
And then—
Something softer. Something apologetic.
“I’m sorry,” Yunho says, the smile returning, but smaller this time. “I—uh—I have a really bad memory with this kind of stuff.”
Bad memory.
You almost laugh. Except you don’t.
Because this isn’t small.
This isn’t some stuff.
This is—
Everything.
“You really don’t remember?” you ask.
And there’s something in your voice now.
Something you can’t hide.
Because this was never supposed to happen like this.
He hesitates.
And then he shakes his head.
Slowly.
Like he’s trying not to hurt you.
“I’m really sorry,” he says again.
And just like that—
It’s gone.
Every late-night conversation. Every shared secret.
Every moment where he looked at you like you were his favorite person in the world.
Gone. Erased so cleanly it’s like it never existed.
You nod.
Because what else can you do?
“It’s okay,” you say.
It isn’t. It isn’t even close to okay.
But Yunho smiles again.
Soft. Relieved.
Because to him, this is just an awkward interaction that’s almost over.
“That’s so embarrassing,” he laughs lightly. “I feel like I should remember you.”
You stare at him.
You should.
“I guess I wasn’t that memorable,” you say.
You mean it as a joke. You try to make it sound like one.
But it lands wrong.
You can tell immediately.
His expression shifts again—guilt this time.
“No, no—it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I’m just really bad with—”
“It’s fine.”
You cut him off.
Because if he says one more thing—
You might break right here in the middle of aisle seven.
There’s a pause.
“Well,” he says, smiling again, softer this time, “we can just start over, right?”
Start over.
Like it’s that simple.
Like you didn’t spend nights wondering if he ever missed you the way you missed him. Like you didn’t carry him with you long after he forgot to stay.
You nod anyway.
“Yeah,” you say.
“Yeah, we can.”
Because it’s easier than telling him the truth.
Easier than saying—
I don’t want to start over. I wanted you to remember.
He brightens immediately.
“I’m Yunho, by the way,” he says, holding out his hand.
Like you don’t already know. Like you haven’t known for years.
You look at it.
At him.
At the boy who used to hold your hand without thinking—
And now has to introduce himself.
You take it anyway. Tell him your name. Watch him repeat it like it’s brand new.
His hand is warm.
It always was.
You remember that much—how he used to grab your wrist without thinking, tugging you along hallways, across streets, through crowds like the world would part for him as long as you were following.
Now his hand is just—
A stranger’s.
“Nice to meet you,” Yunho says, smiling.
Nice to meet you.
The words settle somewhere deep and sharp, like they don’t quite belong in a world where you already know the way his handwriting looks, the way he hums when he’s bored, the way he used to say your name like it was something soft and important.
You nod.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You too.”
It’s a lie.
You’ve already met him. You’ve already known him.
You’ve already loved him.
He lets go of your hand too quickly.
Like there’s no reason to hold on.
And maybe there isn’t.
To him.
“So—wait,” Yunho says, tilting his head again, that familiar curiosity flickering in his eyes. “If we were best friends… how come I don’t remember you at all?”
The question is so innocent. So genuine.
It makes it worse.
You let out a small breath, something that almost resembles a laugh.
“I don’t know,” you answer.
But that’s not true.
You know exactly how.
You just don’t know how to say it without sounding like you’re accusing him of something he doesn’t even realize he did.
Because forgetting isn’t a crime.
It’s just—
Cruel.
Unintentionally. Effortlessly cruel.
He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.
“That’s so bad,” he says, half-laughing. “I swear I’m not usually like this.”
You almost say, you are.
Because this version of him—the one standing in front of you, easygoing and warm and completely unburdened—
This is who he became after he left.
This is the version of Yunho that doesn’t carry you anymore.
But you don’t say it.
Instead, you shrug.
“It’s fine.”
He studies your face for a second longer than before.
Like he’s trying to read something there. Like he’s starting to realize this isn’t just a funny coincidence.
But then he smiles again.
Because that’s what Yunho does.
He fills silence with warmth.
“So,” he says, clapping his hands lightly together, “since I clearly messed up big time… let me make it up to you.”
Your brows knit slightly.
“…What?”
“Let’s be friends again,” he says easily.
Again.
The word hits differently this time.
Because he says it like it’s simple.
Like friendships are things you can pause and resume without consequence.
“Yunho—” you start.
But he cuts in, bright and earnest.
“Seriously! I mean, we were best friends, right? That has to count for something.”
It does.
Just not in the way he thinks.
Your chest tightens.
“It counted,” you say softly.
His smile doesn’t fade.
Because he doesn’t hear what you mean.
“Then it still counts now,” he insists, like it’s obvious. “We can just pick up where we left off.”
Pick up where we left off.
You almost laugh.
But it doesn’t come out right. Because where you left off—
Was you watching him walk away with a promise he didn’t keep.
Was you staring at your phone, waiting for messages that slowly stopped coming.
Was you realizing that you were holding onto something he had already let go of.
There is no “picking up.”
There’s only starting from nothing.
You look at him.
At the way his eyes shine with sincerity. At the way he genuinely believes this is something kind.
And maybe it is.
Just not for you.
“…You make it sound really easy,” you say.
He grins.
“It is easy.”
Of course it is.
For him.
“Come on,” Yunho continues, nudging your shoulder lightly like he’s known you forever. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to be friends with me again.”
Your breath catches.
Because the truth is—
You do.
God, you do.
You would take anything he offers.
Even if it’s smaller. Even if it’s different.
Even if it hurts.
But—
“I don’t know if I can,” you admit.
The words surprise both of you.
He blinks.
“Why not?”
Because I never stopped.
Because you forgot, and I didn’t. Because I don’t know how to pretend this is new when it feels like something unfinished.
But all you say is—
“It’s just… weird.”
He tilts his head.
“Because I forgot?”
You nod.
He frowns slightly, like he’s trying to understand.
“…I mean, yeah, that sucks,” he says gently. “And I’m really sorry. But it doesn’t have to be a big deal, right? Like—we can make new memories.”
New memories.
The phrase sits heavy in your chest.
Because you don’t want new ones.
You want the old ones back. You want him to look at you and know.
You want him to remember the way he used to save you a seat without asking.
The way he used to text you first.
The way he once said—
“If I ever move away, I’m still going to annoy you every day. You’re stuck with me.”
You remember it so clearly.
The classroom.
The late afternoon sunlight.
The way he smiled when he said it, like it was a promise.
You swallow.
“Yeah,” you say faintly. “New memories.”
He brightens again, relieved that you didn’t shut him down completely.
“Exactly!” he says. “See? It’s not so bad.”
Not so bad.
To lose nothing. To stand here and feel no absence. To look at someone who used to mean everything and feel… nothing at all.
Your fingers curl slightly.
“Hey,” Yunho says suddenly.
You look up.
He’s watching you closely now.
Closer than before.
“You’re not, like… actually upset, right?”
There’s concern in his voice. Real concern.
The kind he always had.
And that’s the worst part.
He’s still him.
Still kind. Still warm. Still the boy who cared too much.
Just not about you anymore.
You force a smile.
“No,” you say.
It comes out too quickly.
Too smooth.
He doesn’t believe you.
You can tell.
“…You are,” he says softly.
You shake your head.
“I’m not.”
A beat.
And then he laughs again.
Light. Careful this time.
“Okay, wait—this feels like I’m being pranked or something,” Yunho says, glancing around briefly like he expects cameras to pop out. “Are you sure we knew each other that well?”
The words hit harder than anything else so far.
Because he’s still not fully convinced.
Still thinks this might be exaggerated. Still think you might be joking.
Your chest tightens sharply.
“I wouldn’t lie about that,” you say.
Your voice is quieter now.
But there’s something in it.
Something that makes him stop. Really stop.
His smile fades.
Just a little.
“…Oh.”
Silence stretches between you.
Thicker this time.
He shifts his weight.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly. “I just—”
“I know.”
You don’t let him finish.
Because if he apologizes again—
It’ll only make this more real.
You glance down at the basket in your hand, suddenly aware of how long you’ve been standing here.
Of how out of place this entire moment feels.
“I should go,” you say.
His head lifts immediately.
“Oh—already?”
There’s something in his voice.
Something that almost sounds like disappointment.
It twists something fragile inside you.
“Yeah,” you say. “I was just grabbing a few things.”
He hesitates.
Like he wants to say something else. Like he’s not quite ready to let this end.
And for a second—
A dangerous, stupid second—
You wonder if maybe, somehow, something in him does feel familiar.
If maybe there’s a thread, thin and invisible, that still connects you.
But then he smiles again.
Soft. Casual.
“Can I at least get your number?” Yunho asks. “If we’re starting over, I mean.”
Starting over.
You look at him.
At the boy who once had your number memorized.
Who used to text you goodnight without fail. Who once stayed up until 3 a.m. just to keep you company.
And now—
He’s asking for it like it’s brand new.
Like you’ve never existed in his phone before.
Your heart aches.
But your hands move anyway.
You take his phone. Type your number in.
Hand it back.
“Text me so I have yours,” you say.
He grins.
“Got it.”
Your fingers brush for a second.
It lingers longer than it should.
At least—for you.
For him, it’s nothing.
“Okay,” he says, stepping back slightly. “I’ll text you.”
You nod.
“Okay.”
You turn.
Because if you stay any longer—
You might say something you can’t take back.
You walk away.
Step. Step. Step.
It feels just like earlier.
Heavy. Slow.
Like you’re leaving something behind.
But this time—
It’s different.
Because now you know.
He didn’t just forget the small things.
He forgot you. Completely.
Behind you, his voice calls out—
“Hey!”
You stop.
Just for a second.
You turn back.
He’s smiling.
“Don’t disappear this time, okay?” Yunho says, half-laughing. “Since we just found each other again.”
Your heart shatters quietly.
Because you didn’t disappear.
He did.
You nod anyway.
“Yeah,” you say.
“I won’t.”
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
He texts you before you even make it home.
Of course he does.
Your phone buzzes in your hand as you’re crossing the street, the notification lighting up your screen like something small and harmless—like it isn’t about to undo you in ways you didn’t prepare for.
Yunho:
hey!! it’s yunho from the grocery store 😄
You stop walking.
Because the message—
It’s so normal.
So easy. So new.
It’s Yunho from the grocery store.
Not Yunho from high school. Not Yunho who used to walk you home.
Not Yunho who once knew your favorite song, your worst fears, the way you take your coffee without asking.
Just—
A boy you met today.
Your chest tightens, something slow and aching spreading through it.
You type back anyway.
You:
i know
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Disappear. Reappear.
Yunho:
okay good 😭 i was worried you’d save me as “milk aisle guy” or something
You stare at the screen.
And despite everything—
A small, broken smile pulls at your lips.
Because that’s him. That’s so him.
The way he jokes. The way he tries to keep things light. The way he makes everything feel okay, even when it’s not.
You remember how he used to do this back then, too.
Whenever things got too quiet.
Too real.
He’d laugh. Say something stupid.
Make you forget, even if just for a moment.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard.
You:
i should
His reply comes instantly.
Yunho:
wow okay 😔 i see how it is
You exhale softly.
It almost feels normal.
Like nothing has changed. Like you didn’t just stand in front of him and realize you never existed in his memory.
But then—
That thought creeps back in.
And everything shifts again.
You put your phone down when you get home.
You tell yourself you won’t check it. You tell yourself you need space.
You tell yourself this is dangerous.
You last three minutes.
And when you pick it up again, there are already more messages.
Yunho:
soooo
since we’re “best friends” apparently (still can’t believe i forgot that btw, i feel terrible)
tell me something about you
Your stomach twists.
Something about you.
Where do you even start?
Do you tell him—
That he already knows everything? That there’s nothing new to give because he’s already had all of it once?
Your thumbs move slowly.
You:
i like quiet places
and i don’t really like crowded environments
The reply comes quickly.
Yunho:
really?? i’m like the opposite LOL
but that’s okay, i can drag you out sometimes 😄
You close your eyes for a second.
Because he already did that.
He used to grab your wrist, pull you into chaos you never would’ve chosen yourself. Loud festivals, crowded cafeterias, last-minute plans that always ended with you laughing despite yourself.
You didn’t need to be “dragged.”
Not when it was him.
Yunho:
what else?
What else.
Everything else. Too much else.
You swallow.
You:
i like staying in
There’s a pause this time.
Longer.
Like he’s actually thinking.
Then—
Yunho:
that’s kinda cute actually
Cute.
The word hits differently now.
Back then, he used to say it under his breath, softer, like it meant something more than just a passing comment.
Now it’s just—
Casual.
You press your lips together.
The conversation continues.
Easily. Effortlessly.
Like you’re actually getting to know each other.
And that’s the worst part.
Because for him—
You are.
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─────────
Days pass.
And Yunho becomes a constant.
He texts you in the morning. Sends you random updates throughout the day.
Complains about small things, shares stupid jokes, tells you about people you’ve never met.
It’s so him. So familiar it hurts.
Except now, every interaction feels slightly off.
Like a song playing in the wrong key.
Because he treats you like something new.
“Wait, you like that?”
“No way, I didn’t expect that from you.”
“That’s so interesting, I’m learning so much about you.”
Learning.
Learning things he already knew.
For you, every message is layered.
There’s what he’s saying now—
And what he used to say then.
Sometimes, you find yourself staring at your phone, remembering.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
12 years ago
“You hate horror movies, right?” Yunho said, grinning.
“You literally screamed at a trailer.”
“I didn’t scream,” you argued.
“You did,” he laughed. “It was cute.”
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Yunho:
we should watch a horror movie sometime LOL
You stare at the message.
Your fingers hesitate.
You:
i don’t like horror
Three dots.
Yunho:
really?? i wouldn’t have guessed
Something inside you twists.
Of course you wouldn’t have.
You forgot.
It builds slowly.
The ache. The exhaustion.
The quiet, constant grief of being known once—
And not at all now.
You try to keep up. You really do.
You respond.
You laugh when he jokes.
You let him “discover” things about you like they’re new.
But it starts to wear on you.
Because every time he says—
“I didn’t know that about you.”
You hear—
“I never knew you at all.”
And that’s not true.
He did.
He just—
Doesn’t anymore.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
It happens a week later.
You’re sitting on your bed, your room dim except for the soft glow of your phone screen.
Yunho had been texting you nonstop all evening.
Voice messages. Pictures.
A video of him laughing about something you don’t fully understand.
And then—
This.
Yunho:
you know what’s funny?
You hesitate before replying.
You:
what
There’s a short pause.
Then—
Yunho:
i feel like i’ve known you for a long time already
even though we just met
Your breath catches.
Your chest tightens so suddenly it almost hurts.
Because—
You have known him for a long time.
You’ve known him in ways he can’t even remember anymore.
And now he’s saying this like it’s some new, surprising feeling. Like it’s something that just started.
You stare at the message.
Your vision blurs slightly.
Your fingers hover over the screen.
And then—
Before you can stop yourself—
You type.
You:
we did know each other
you just forgot
Send.
The moment it goes through—
You regret it.
Because this—
This is the line you’ve been trying not to cross.
The shift from pretending—
To remind you.
The typing bubble appears.
Disappears.
Appears again.
And then—
Yunho:
hey…
are you still upset about that?
Your stomach drops.
It’s not what you meant.
But that’s how he takes it.
You sit up slightly, heart racing.
You:
it’s not about being upset
There’s a longer pause this time.
Long enough that your chest starts to feel tight again.
Then—
Yunho:
then what is it?
What is it?
Everything. It’s everything.
It’s the way he laughs like this is light when it’s heavy for you.
It’s the way he talks about “starting over” like there wasn’t something real before.
It’s the way he doesn’t realize that every message, every joke, every small interaction is sitting on top of something much deeper that only you can see.
Your hands tremble slightly.
And this time—
You don’t stop yourself.
You:
it’s just weird, yunho
you talk to me like i’m new
like i didn’t matter before
The message sends.
Your heart pounds.
Too fast. Too loud.
The typing bubble appears instantly.
Then disappears.
Then—
Nothing.
One minute.
Two. Five.
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.
And suddenly—
You regret everything.
Because maybe you shouldn’t have said that.
Maybe it wasn’t fair.
Maybe—
Your phone buzzes.
You inhale sharply and look down.
Yunho:
that’s not what i meant
Relief flickers.
Briefly.
But then—
Another message comes through.
Yunho:
i just don’t remember, okay?
i can’t pretend i do
The words hit harder than anything else so far.
Because he’s right.
He can’t pretend.
And you—
You’ve been doing exactly that.
Pretending this is okay. Pretending this doesn’t hurt.
Pretending you can handle being someone new to him.
Your chest tightens.
Your fingers move slowly.
You:
i’m not asking you to pretend
A pause.
Then—
Yunho:
then what do you want me to do?
You stare at the screen.
At the question.
At the boy who once knew exactly what you needed without asking, now looking at you like you’re impossible to understand.
And that’s when it hits you.
The realization.
Slow. Heavy.
Unavoidable.
He can’t give you what you want.
Because what you want doesn’t exist anymore.
Your vision blurs. Your throat tightens.
And finally—
You type the truth.
You:
i wanted you to remember me
Send.
This time—
The silence that follows feels final.
The message sits there.
Read. Seen.
But unanswered.
You don’t move.
You don’t even breathe properly—just shallow inhales that never quite fill your lungs, like your body is waiting for something it’s not sure will come.
One minute.
Two. Five. Ten.
Your phone stays silent.
And somehow, that hurts more than anything he’s said so far.
Because at least before, he was trying.
Trying to joke. Trying to fix it.
Trying to make this something light.
But now—
There’s nothing.
And the absence feels… deliberate.
You drop your phone onto your bed and press your hands over your face, dragging them down slowly like you can physically wipe the feeling away.
This is why you didn’t want to say anything. This is why you tried to keep it easy.
Because the truth—
The truth is too heavy for something that only exists on one side.
Your chest aches, deep and quiet, like something caving in slowly rather than breaking all at once.
You don’t cry.
Not yet.
You just lie there, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything like you always do.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
10 years ago
“Don’t disappear, okay?” Yunho said, leaning back in his chair, balancing it on two legs like your teacher told him not to.
“I won’t,” you replied.
“You better not,” he grinned. “I’d be so bored without you.”
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You let out a shaky breath.
“I didn’t disappear,” you whisper to no one.
Your phone buzzes.
You freeze.
For a second, you don’t reach for it.
Because you already know—
Whatever he says next—
It won’t be what you want. It can’t be.
But still—
You pick it up.
Yunho:
hey
Just that.
Your heart sinks.
Not your name. Not anything soft.
Just a hey.
You swallow.
Your fingers hover before you type.
You:
hey
The reply comes slower this time.
Measured. Careful.
Yunho:
i didn’t know it was that serious
There’s no malice in it.
No cruelty. Just honesty.
And somehow, that makes it worse.
Because he’s not trying to hurt you.
He just—
Doesn’t understand.
Your chest tightens.
You:
it was
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Then—
Yunho:
i mean… we were in high school
that’s a long time ago
The words feel like a quiet dismissal.
Like something that mattered to you was just… temporary to him.
Just a phase.
Something small. Something forgettable.
Your throat burns.
You:
it wasn’t small to me
The reply takes longer this time.
When it comes—
It’s different.
Yunho:
i’m not saying it was
i just don’t remember it like you do
There it is again.
That wall. That gap between you.
You with your memories, vivid and alive and aching.
And him with nothing.
Your grip tightens around your phone.
You:
you don’t remember it at all
A pause.
Then—
Yunho:
no
It’s simple. Final.
And it lands like something heavy dropping straight through your chest.
You close your eyes.
Breathe in. Out.
Try to steady yourself.
But the words keep coming.
Yunho:
and i feel bad about that, okay?
i do
but i don’t know what you want from me
Your fingers tremble slightly.
Because you don’t know either.
Not anymore.
You thought you did. You thought if he just remembered—
Everything would fall back into place.
But now you see it.
Even if he tried, he can’t go back to being that person.
Because that version of him doesn’t exist anymore.
And neither does the version of you who stood beside him.
Your chest tightens painfully.
You:
i don’t know either
There’s a long pause.
Then—
Yunho:
i like talking to you
i really do
but it feels like i’m disappointing you just by being me
The message makes your breath hitch.
Because that’s not what you wanted.
You never wanted him to feel like that.
You stare at the words, your vision blurring again.
You:
you’re not
Another pause.
Then—
Yunho:
it feels like it
Your heart aches.
Deep. Sharp.
Because he’s right.
Not because he’s doing anything wrong—
But because the version of him standing here now will always fall short of the version you remember.
And that’s not fair.
Not to him. Not to you.
You sit up slowly, your back against the wall, phone still clutched in your hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you.
And for the first time—
You let yourself say it.
The thing you’ve been avoiding.
You:
i think i’m the problem
The reply is immediate.
Yunho:
don’t say that
Your lips press together.
But you keep going. Because you have to.
You:
no
listen
you’re trying
and i keep expecting something you can’t give me
There’s no response.
Not right away.
So you continue.
You:
you’re treating me like someone new
and i keep comparing you to someone you don’t even remember being
Your chest tightens with every word.
But you don’t stop.
You:
and it’s not fair to you
The silence stretches.
And for a second—
You wonder if he’s gone again.
But then—
Yunho:
it’s not fair to you either
That’s when it breaks.
Like something finally giving way after holding too much for too long.
Your vision blurs completely now. Your throat tightens, and this time—
You can’t hold it back.
Because he’s right.
It’s not fair.
None of this is.
Not the way you remember everything. Not the way he remembers nothing.
Not the way you’re both standing in the same place—
But living in completely different versions of the past.
Your fingers shake as you type.
You:
i think i need to stop
The typing bubble appears instantly.
Yunho:
stop what?
You inhale shakily.
This is it. The part that hurts the most.
Because this time—
You’re the one leaving.
You:
talking to you like this
pretending it doesn’t hurt
The reply comes fast.
Too fast.
Yunho:
wait
Your heart stutters.
Yunho:
we don’t have to stop
we can figure it out
Figure it out.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Because you already know—
There’s nothing to figure out. There’s no solution to this.
No middle ground. No version of this where neither of you gets hurt.
You:
how?
The question sits there.
And for the first time—
He doesn’t have an answer.
The typing bubble appears.
Disappears.
Appears again.
And then nothing.
Because he doesn’t know either. Because there isn’t a way.
Tears slip down your cheeks quietly, one after another.
You wipe them away, but they keep coming.
Your chest feels tight.
Heavy.
Like something is pressing down on it, refusing to let go.
And finally—
You type the last thing you’ll say.
You:
you’re still the same yunho
just not mine anymore
Send.
The message goes through.
Delivered. Seen.
You don’t wait for a reply this time.
You can’t.
Because if you do—
You might stay. And staying would only make this worse.
Your finger hovers over his contact.
Just for a second.
Because this—
This is the last connection you have to him.
The only version of him that still exists in your present.
But it’s not the one you want.
It never will be.
So you close your eyes—
And let it go.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You see him again.
A week later.
Of course you do. Because the world is small like that.
Cruel like that.
You’re walking past a café when you hear it again.
That laugh.
Bright. Warm. Familiar.
You don’t stop this time.
You don’t turn. You don’t look.
Because you already know what you’ll see.
Yunho, smiling.
Living.
And you—
Remembering enough for the both of you.
You keep walking.
Step. Step. Step.
It feels lighter this time.
Not because it doesn’t hurt—
But because you finally understand something you didn’t before.
Some people only exist in certain versions of your life.
And trying to bring them into the present—
Doesn’t always work.
Sometimes, they’re only meant to live in your memories.
Even if you still live in them.
Your chest aches.
Soft. Steady.
But you don’t stop.
Because for the first time, you’re not waiting for him to remember.
You’re choosing to move forward.
Even if it means carrying him with you.
Alone.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unfxrgetwble
the space between us three (jyh) | extra.
⇢extra: seora writes her dad a birthday card.
it’s your birthday today, daddy! happy birthday, you big giant! i’m quickly scribbling on this card before you get out of the shower and catch me putting it on the dining table …
why do you shower so late???
anyways, i hope you have the best day in the world, and i hope work isn’t too bad. i saved some of the cookies i baked earlier and put some frosting on it. i scribbled happy birthday on it, not sure if you could read it but it was my best work!!! thank you for giving me the best life and for always being there for me through everything. you’re always there at my games and you’re always there to help me with my homework… or to do my homework and projects when i’m too lazy. haha just kidding :) but you do help me a lot even when you’re tired. you take me on shopping dates and buy me everything i want without complaining. you make me laugh until my belly hurts and you watch all my favorite shows with me even if they don’t make any sense! we have our ups and downs, and even when i’m giving you attitude, you never yell or get really angry. (you have so much patience i don’t get it!?) you teach me a lot of important lessons, and i’ll always remember every single one of them. i am who i am because of you, dad ❤️ i know i’ll be strong and get through my toughest days because i learned from the best.
i printed these two pictures of you because they’re my favorite of you. it shows just how much of a great dad you are because you always put me first, no matter what! (also remember uncle mingi thought you were gonna feed him? he was so offended you weren’t. he’s so weird sometimes?!)
i printed this just cause lol. you guys ran into your old college friend and it took you ALL 4 of you to find directions to this one restaurant. idk why i have this picture honestly??? i think it was just to see how long it’d take you guys to realize it was down the street and around the corner. u guys look so clueless too it’s sooo funny haha
i'll put a bag next to your cookies. there's another picture in there that means a lot to me and it's framed. i bought the frame at the stationary store.. i slipped it in my pile of things while you weren't looking. hehe. it's a picture of us, it's another favorite because you look really happy. we also look alike. it makes me smile a lot.
i could say and write everything but it still won’t be enough to capture just how much i love you and appreciate you. you’re the best dad in the whole wide world, you’re my bestfriend, and a superhero (we’ll talk about the whole spiderman thing later). you’re my favorite person ever and i’m so lucky to have you as my dad!!!
i’ll always be ur ace, and i’ll always happily take the first bite of food from you!
i think you turned off the shower … i don’t hear your singing anymore so it’s time for me to wrap this up.
i love you luv you luv u luv u!
seora ❤️
⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x @honeyhotteoks @woovalin @piecessoull @prodsh00ky @seesawsaredangerous @prettypeachprincesz @side-angel @binniewalrus @soupbinlily @junniesoleilkth
taglist pt. 2: @jyoon-ahgatiny @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @moonlight-hwa @raicecakes-and-buldak @civeua @offeret @enhamysunshines @ari-nicole @fixonyo @gojonish @gyusbabydoll @ayayaeyato @ateezswonderland
Loving you twice — J.Yunho
Husband!Yunho x Wife!Reader
•Summary: After a devastating accident, you wake up with no memory of the last few years of your life—including your husband, Jeong Yunho. While he remembers every little detail about you, to you he’s just a stranger. But as he patiently stays by your side, helping you rediscover your life piece by piece, your heart begins to fall for him all over again… even if your memories never return.
•Genre: Angst, Romance, Slow burn, Fluff
•Warnings: None
•Word count: 10.7k
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sound. A slow, steady beeping filled the quiet room, rhythmic and mechanical, echoing in the back of my head like a distant metronome. My body felt heavy, as if I were sinking into the mattress beneath me. Even lifting my fingers felt like too much effort. The sharp scent of antiseptic hung in the air, making my stomach twist with unease.
My eyelids fluttered open slowly, and the bright white lights above me stung my eyes. Everything felt blurry, as though I were underwater trying to see through rippling glass. Then, a voice cut through the haze—soft, hopeful, and strangely terrified. I turned my head toward it, wincing as a dull ache spread across my skull. Shapes gradually came into focus: machines, pale walls, and a chair pulled close beside the bed. And a man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, leaning forward like he’d been sitting there for hours. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his eyes—wide and shining—locked onto me with an intensity that made my chest tighten. Relief washed over his face the moment he saw my eyes open. “You’re awake,” he breathed. The raw emotion in his voice was overwhelming, like he had been holding his breath for days.
I blinked at him slowly, trying to place the strange stir of familiarity in my chest. He looked… familiar, but not in a way I could put into words. My heart seemed to know him even if my mind didn’t. He stood quickly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Wait—don’t move,” he said gently. “The doctor said you might be disoriented.” His voice was steady, warm, but there was a trembling underneath it I could sense.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “What… happened?” I asked.
“You were in an accident,” he said quietly. “A car accident. But you’re okay now. The doctors said you’re going to recover.” The word “accident” echoed in my head. Pieces of nothing filled my mind—blank spaces where memories should have been. I noticed the bandage wrapped around my arm and the IV in my hand, and my unease grew.
The man kept his gaze on me, careful and intense, like he was afraid I might vanish if he looked away. “You scared us,” he said softly. Us. My stomach twisted. I studied him more closely now: his soft features, his kind eyes, the faint lines of worry etched into his face. Something deep inside me should have clicked. Instead, I drew a blank. “…Do I know you?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
For a moment, he froze. The room felt suddenly silent, the machines beeping a little louder in the stillness. His expression shifted slowly to confusion, disbelief, and then something painfully close to heartbreak. “You…” he began, his voice trembling. My chest tightened as dread seeped into me. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I just—my head feels weird, and I can’t—”
The door burst open, and my mother rushed in, followed by a doctor. “(Y/N)!” she gasped, hurrying to my side. Relief softened her features as she gently took my hand. “Oh, thank goodness you’re awake. How are you feeling?” “Confused,” I admitted, my voice small. The doctor stepped closer, shining a small light into my eyes. “That’s normal,” he said. “You experienced a head injury. Some disorientation is expected.”
I looked back at the tall man. He hadn’t moved, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles pale. He stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face all over again. I looked between him and my mother. “…Who is he?” My mother hesitated. Just for a second, but it felt like an eternity. Then she glanced at him with sympathy before looking back at me. “(Y/N),” she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from my face, “that’s your husband.”
The word hit me like a shockwave. Husband. My heart skipped, and my eyes widened as I looked at him. The man I was supposed to know, the one who loved me, smiled softly. But it wasn’t a happy smile. It was fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. “Hi,” he said quietly. Then, almost as if to anchor himself in the moment, he added, “I’m Jeong Yunho.”
And somehow… the way he said my name earlier echoed in my chest, tugging at something I couldn’t name. Like it had once meant everything. But now—now, I didn’t remember him at all.
The next morning, I woke to the faint smell of coffee and toast drifting through the room. Sunlight spilled across the hospital bed, warm and golden, but the familiar comfort it should have brought was absent. My body still ached, every movement reminding me of the accident, but it was the man in the corner of the room who made my chest tighten. Yunho. My husband. Someone I was supposed to know… but didn’t.
He smiled at me as I stirred. “Good morning,” he said softly. There was an awkward hesitation in his tone, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak, or maybe if I’d remember who he was. I wanted to ask him why he looked so familiar, but my tongue felt thick, my mind foggy.
“I… good morning,” I answered cautiously.
He stepped closer, carefully placing a small tray on the bedside table. There was coffee. And toast cut into neat triangles. The little details—the way he had arranged the plate, the way he poured the coffee just the way I liked it—made something inside me twist. Something that felt like warmth, like recognition without memory.
“I know this might feel strange,” Yunho said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I… I’m going to take it slow. I won’t rush you to remember anything. I just… I want to be here.”
His voice had a softness to it that made my chest ache. There was an intensity too, an unspoken emotion that lingered beneath his words. Even though I didn’t remember him, I felt the pull. My body wanted to trust him, to lean into him, even as my mind screamed that he was a stranger.
We spent hours talking that afternoon, though it barely felt like time had passed at all. Yunho had a way of making the room feel warmer, like the sun had found a permanent spot beside us. He told me things about myself—small, intimate details I didn’t remember but that somehow made me feel known.
“There’s this cute little scrunch thing that you do with your nose when someone irritates you,” he said softly, his lips quirking into a fond smile. I froze for a second, realizing he was right—I had done that since I was little, a quirk I hadn’t thought anyone ever noticed.
“And that one time when you cried from reading a romance novel,” he added, voice soft and loving, a little teasing under his tone. I couldn’t help but smile, the memory absent but the feeling of it blooming faintly in my chest.
He talked about the little things he loved about me, the ones no one else would notice. How I would hum softly while cooking, how I always ran my fingers along the edge of a book before opening it, how I had a thing for tiny, delicate flowers. Each word he spoke was like a thread, weaving me back into the picture of who I was before—and slowly into the man sitting beside me.
And the way he smiled as he talked, eyes shining with love and reverence, made my heart melt in a way I hadn’t expected. Even though I couldn’t remember him, he remembered everything about me—the quirks, the habits, the little things that made me, me. And somehow, that made me start to feel something new. Something like… falling for him all over again.
I wanted to reach out, to grab his hand, to anchor myself to the warmth and certainty in his gaze. And when I finally did, hesitantly, he held it gently, as if he’d been waiting for that moment his entire life. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. I didn’t remember why, but my chest tightened, and my heart responded, answering him even before my mind could catch up. For a moment neither of us spoke. His hand was warm around mine, larger, steady, careful like he was afraid I might pull away at any second. But I didn’t. Instead, I found myself holding on just a little tighter.
Something about him felt right.
Not familiar exactly—because my mind still held nothing when I searched for memories of him—but safe. Comforting. Like a place my heart recognized even if my thoughts didn’t. Yunho seemed to notice the way my fingers curled around his because his breath caught slightly. His eyes flickered down to our hands, then back to my face, almost as if he was afraid this small moment might disappear if he acknowledged it too much.
“You used to do that,” he said softly. I tilted my head slightly. “Do what?”
“Hold my hand like that,” he replied with a small smile. “Whenever you were nervous… or when you were thinking too hard about something.” My cheeks warmed faintly. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. “I guess some things don’t change,” I murmured.
His smile grew a little, but there was still a quiet sadness behind it. Like he was happy for the moment, but grieving everything I couldn’t remember. “I’m glad,” he said quietly. Silence settled between us again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Outside the window, the late afternoon sun painted the hospital room in soft golden light. I watched the way it caught in his hair, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly now that we were talking. “You must be really patient,” I said after a moment.
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because if my wife didn’t remember me…” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I think I’d be a lot more frustrated than you are.” A quiet laugh escaped him. It was warm and soft, the kind of laugh that made my chest flutter for no reason I could explain. “Oh, trust me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m definitely frustrated.”
My eyes widened slightly.
“But not at you,” he added quickly. “Never at you.” The seriousness in his voice made my heart skip. “I’m just…” He exhaled slowly, searching for the right words. “I miss you.”
The words settled heavily in the quiet room.
I miss you.
For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. The way he said it wasn’t dramatic or desperate. It was soft, honest—like he had been holding those words inside for days and they had finally slipped out. My chest tightened as I watched him, trying to understand the depth of the emotion behind his eyes. I studied his face more carefully now. The faint dark circles under his eyes. The way his shoulders slumped slightly, like exhaustion had finally caught up to him. It looked like he hadn’t been sleeping much. Had he really been here the whole time? Sitting beside me, waiting for me to wake up?
“I’m still here,” I said quietly.
The moment the words left my mouth, something flickered across his expression—hope, relief, and something painful all tangled together. He looked at me like the simple statement meant more than I could understand. “I know,” Yunho murmured gently, but the way he said it made it clear he didn’t mean the same thing I did. I was here physically, sitting in front of him, holding his hand. But the version of me he loved—the one who shared memories with him, inside jokes, quiet nights, and whispered promises—that version of me was gone. At least for now.
His thumb brushed lightly over the back of my hand, a slow, absentminded motion that felt strangely natural. Like it was something he had done a thousand times before. The small touch sent a quiet warmth through me, and for a moment I forgot that I didn’t remember him at all. “Can I tell you something?” he asked softly after a moment.
I nodded.
“You used to hate hospitals,” he said with a small smile. “The smell, the lights… everything. You said they felt too cold.” I wrinkled my nose instinctively. “They do smell weird,” I admitted.
His smile widened just a little, and something warm spread through my chest seeing it. It felt good making him smile, even if I didn’t know why. “You also used to make me promise something,” he continued. “What was that?” His eyes softened as he looked at me, and for a second it felt like the entire room went quiet.
“That if anything ever happened to you… I’d stay.”
My stomach twisted at his words. I could hear the meaning behind them, the weight of that promise.
“And did you?” I asked quietly.
Yunho squeezed my hand gently, his grip warm and steady.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Something about the way he said it made my throat tighten. Even without my memories, I could tell one thing with absolute certainty—he meant it.
“I guess so,” I said quietly, my fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the ring on his finger. For a moment, Yunho just watched my hand, the small movement making something soft flicker across his face. Then he seemed to make up his mind about something.
“Can I show you something?” he asked, his voice suddenly a little nervous as he fidgeted in his pocket.
I looked up at him and nodded. “Of course.”
He took a slow breath before pulling something out of his pocket. Resting in his palm was a beautiful ring with a small diamond. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant—just simple and elegant in a way that immediately caught my attention.
He held it out quietly in the center of his palm, letting me see it.
“Can I hold it?” I asked cautiously, half preparing myself for him to say no.
“Definitely,” he said without hesitation.
I carefully took the ring from his hand and turned it between my fingers, studying the way the diamond caught the soft light spilling through the window. It was delicate, almost understated, but there was something incredibly beautiful about it. “This is beautiful,” I murmured.
Yunho smiled softly, watching me examine it.
“There’s actually a story behind that ring,” he said.
I glanced up from it, curiosity flickering in my chest. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Before I started my career, this is all I could really afford,” he explained. “So of course I was nervous when I proposed to you because it was a small diamond.” His voice held a quiet vulnerability as he spoke, like the memory still made his heart race even now. “But to my surprise,” he continued with a gentle laugh, “you loved it so much that you guarded it with your life.”
I looked down at the ring again, a small smile forming on my lips as I imagined it. “That’s when I knew you were the one,” he finished softly. Something warm spread through my chest at his words. Even though I couldn’t remember that moment, I could almost picture it through the way he described it.
I turned the ring slowly between my fingers before looking back at him.
“Can I try it?” I asked.
For a second, Yunho froze. His heart visibly swelled in his chest, the question clearly catching him off guard.
Then he gently took the ring from my fingers.
“Of course,” he murmured.
Carefully, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto my finger.
It fit perfectly.
I lifted my hand slightly, watching the diamond shimmer as the golden rays of the sun streamed through the window. The light caught the stone, making it sparkle softly.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I stared at the ring resting on my finger, my heart beating a little faster for reasons I couldn’t explain. The ring felt warm around my finger, the metal resting against my skin like it had always belonged there. I turned my hand slightly, watching the small diamond catch the sunlight, but my attention kept drifting somewhere else.
My palms were suddenly sweaty.
I wasn’t sure why.
A strange nervousness settled in my chest, the kind that made my heartbeat pick up just a little faster. It didn’t make sense. All I was doing was sitting here, looking at a ring.
Yet every time my eyes drifted toward Yunho, butterflies stirred in my stomach.
I glanced up at him again without meaning to.
He was watching me carefully, his expression soft and patient, like he was trying to read every tiny reaction on my face. The moment our eyes met, my heart skipped in my chest and I quickly looked back down at my hand.
Why was I so nervous around him?
It wasn’t fear. I knew that much. If anything, it was the complete opposite.
Being near him made me feel warm, safe… and strangely aware of everything. The quiet room. The sunlight on the floor. The gentle way he stood beside the bed like he didn’t want to crowd me but also didn’t want to be too far away.
And every time I even remotely looked at him, the butterflies in my stomach only grew stronger.
A few days later, the doctor finally said the words I had been waiting for.
“You’re well enough to leave.”
The hospital room that had once felt suffocating suddenly seemed lighter. Part of me felt relieved to finally get out of the sterile space, but another part of me felt nervous. Leaving meant returning to a life I didn’t remember.
Yunho stood beside the bed while I gathered the few things I had brought with me. He stayed close, like he always did, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. I had started noticing that about him—the way he gave me space while still making sure I knew he was there.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
I looked up at him, my fingers instinctively brushing the ring resting on my finger. The small diamond caught the light, sending a tiny shimmer across the room.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah… I think so.”
The ride was quiet.
Not awkward, just thoughtful. I spent most of the time staring out the window as the city passed by in a blur of buildings and streetlights. Every now and then I found myself glancing over at Yunho in the driver’s seat. His hands rested comfortably on the steering wheel, his focus steady on the road ahead.
He looked used to this.
Like he had driven this route countless times before.
Eventually the car slowed and pulled into a parking spot in front of a tall apartment building. Yunho turned off the engine but didn’t move right away.
“We’re here,” he said gently.
My stomach fluttered.
“This is…?”
“Our place,” he finished quietly.
For a moment, I just stared at the building. The word *our* echoed softly in my mind.
Our home.
I followed him inside, my steps slow as we walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a door. Yunho pulled a key from his pocket, but before unlocking it, he paused.
“You don’t have to rush anything,” he said quietly. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave anytime.”
His words made my chest tighten.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The door opened with a soft click.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside was the warmth. The apartment didn’t feel cold or unfamiliar the way I had expected. Instead, it felt lived in—comfortable in a way that immediately made my shoulders relax.
Then my eyes drifted to the wall.
Photos.
My breath caught.
Dozens of pictures filled the space, scattered across the wall in mismatched frames. I slowly stepped closer, my heart beating faster as I looked at them.
Every photo was of Yunho and me.
Some were silly, the two of us making ridiculous faces at the camera. Others were softer moments—sitting close together at a restaurant, wrapped up in blankets on the couch, standing under city lights somewhere at night.
In every single picture, we looked happy.
Really happy.
I moved closer, studying one picture where Yunho had his arm around my shoulders while I leaned into him, laughing at something outside the frame.
In another, I was wearing one of his oversized hoodies, my hair messy while he kissed the side of my head.
I didn’t remember any of it.
But the way we looked at each other…
That was real.
“You put those up,” Yunho said quietly behind me.
I turned slightly, surprised. “I did?”
He nodded, a small smile forming on his face.
“You said it made the apartment feel more like home.”
My fingers hovered near one of the frames but stopped just short of touching it. I stared at the girl in the photo—the version of me who looked so comfortable standing beside him.
“She looks really happy,” I murmured.
Yunho’s voice softened behind me. “She was.”
Something in my chest twisted gently. I looked at the photos again before turning back to him.
“You must really love her,” I said quietly.
For a moment, Yunho didn’t answer. Then he stepped a little closer.
“I do,” he said softly.
His eyes met mine, warm and steady.
“And I still do.” I smiled softly.
The room grew quiet as I continued staring at the photos on the wall. Each one showed a moment of a life I couldn’t remember, yet somehow it still felt like it belonged to me. My eyes moved slowly from frame to frame, taking in every detail.
“Is it okay if I look around?” I asked softly.
Yunho nodded immediately. “Of course.”
I moved carefully through the apartment, taking small steps as if I were exploring somewhere sacred. The space felt warm and lived in, like it had been filled with laughter and quiet moments for a long time. Eventually, I stopped in front of a partially open door.
Curiosity pulled me forward.
I gently pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room was simple but cozy. A large bed sat in the center, soft blankets folded neatly across it. A television was mounted on the wall, and more photos of Yunho and me were scattered around the room in small frames.
My chest tightened slightly.
This room felt… more personal.
I noticed the dresser against the wall and walked over to it. Several perfume bottles sat neatly on top, their glass catching the soft light from the window. Next to them were small pieces of jewelry and hair ties.
Then my eyes drifted to the closets.
One side held women’s clothes—dresses, sweaters, and shirts hanging neatly. The other held men’s clothing.
My stomach fluttered as the realization settled in.
“Is this…?” I started quietly.
“Our room,” Yunho finished from behind me.
His voice was gentle, almost careful.
I turned back toward the dresser, studying the perfume bottles again. Each one looked familiar in a strange way, like something I should recognize but couldn’t quite reach in my mind.
“This one is your favorite,” Yunho said softly.
He stepped forward and picked up one of the bottles before holding it out to me.
I took it carefully from his hand and brought it closer, spraying a small amount onto my wrist before smelling it.
The scent was soft and floral, warm in a way that immediately made me relax.
“It smells pretty,” I said quietly.
For a moment, Yunho didn’t respond.
When I looked up, he was watching me again with that same soft expression—like every small reaction I had meant more to him than he could say.
“You used to wear it almost every day,” he said gently. “Especially when we went out together.” I looked down at the bottle again, rubbing my wrist lightly where the scent lingered. Even though I couldn’t remember those moments… the smell felt strangely comforting.
And standing there in the room we once shared, surrounded by pieces of the life we had built together, I felt something inside me shift.
“Are you okay?” Yunho asked softly, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts.
I blinked and looked up at him, realizing I had been staring at the dresser for longer than I meant to. I quickly nodded. “I’m fine.” Right as the words left my mouth, my stomach growled loudly, completely betraying me.
Yunho’s lips curved into a small smile.
“Someone’s hungry,” he said, his voice carrying a light teasing tone. Heat rushed to my face and I let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay… maybe a little.” He chuckled softly, the sound warm and relaxed. “We can go out to eat,” he offered. “Or I can cook for you.”
I fidgeted with my hands for a moment, thinking about it. The idea of sitting in a crowded restaurant suddenly felt overwhelming. But cooking… that felt different.
“I think we should cook together,” I suggested slowly. “I think that would be fun.”
Yunho hummed thoughtfully, considering it. His eyes softened slightly as he watched me, like he was quietly happy that I was starting to feel comfortable here again.
“Alright,” he said with a small nod. “What do you want to make?”
“Tteokbokki,” I said almost immediately, my mouth watering just thinking about it.
A hint of amusement crossed his face.
“Then let’s drive to the store and grab the ingredients.”
I shook my head lightly. “Why drive when we can walk?” I said, glancing toward the window. “I need the fresh air.”
For a moment Yunho just looked at me.
His chest felt strangely full watching me move around the apartment so naturally, suggesting things like we had done it a hundred times before. Even without your memories, pieces of the old you were still there.
“Yeah,” he said softly, grabbing his jacket. “A walk sounds nice.”
And as the two of us headed toward the door together, Yunho couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. For the first time since the accident, it almost felt normal again.
We walked down to the lobby of the apartment building together and stepped out through the glass doors. The evening air was cool and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing past my face. After spending so many days inside the hospital, the simple feeling of being outside felt almost refreshing.
As we started down the sidewalk, Yunho glanced over at me before slowly offering his hand.
I hesitated for a second.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take it. If anything, the thought made my heart beat a little faster. But holding hands felt… intimate, and part of me wondered if I had the right to do that when I still couldn’t remember our life together.
Still, something inside me pushed past the hesitation. I slipped my hand into his and intertwined our fingers. Yunho immediately stiffened slightly beside me.
When I looked over, his ears had turned bright red.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, almost awkwardly.
I blinked at him. “Sorry for what?”
“For—” he glanced down at our hands before rubbing the back of his neck with his free one. “I just didn’t expect you to…”
“Don’t be,” I said gently.
Butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach as a rush of unfamiliar yet strangely comforting feelings washed over me. The warmth of his hand around mine felt natural—like something I had done countless times before.
The feeling was confusing but comforting all at once.
It almost felt like a first date.
Even though deep down, I knew it wasn’t.
We continued walking down the street, the city slowly coming alive around us with the glow of evening lights. As we passed a small flower stand on the corner, Yunho suddenly stopped.
“Wait here for a second,” he said.
Before I could ask why, he stepped over to the stand and quietly spoke with the vendor. A moment later, he paid and walked back toward me holding a single flower.
He handed it to me.
My eyes widened slightly when I saw what it was.
It was my favorite flower.
A soft smile spread across my face as I took it from him.
“You remembered,” I said quietly.
“Of course I did,” Yunho replied with a small smile.
We continued walking after that, and the small flower felt warm in my hand as I held it carefully. A few minutes later, something caught my eye across the sidewalk.
A photo booth.
Without thinking, I grabbed Yunho’s arm and gently pulled him toward it.
“Wait,” I said excitedly. “I think we should take photos together.”
He looked surprised but followed anyway. “Photos?”
“To remember this day,” I explained with a small smile.
Inside the booth, we sat close together on the small bench. The camera light blinked, signaling the countdown.
For the first picture, we both smiled awkwardly. The second one, Yunho made a goofy face that made me laugh. The third picture, we leaned closer together, our shoulders brushing as we tried to fit into the frame.
Then the final flash went off.
Without really thinking, I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Yunho’s cheek.
The camera flashed.
When I pulled back, Yunho looked completely shocked.
His eyes were wide, and his face had turned red all over again. My own hand quickly flew up to cover my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I think I got carried away.”
For a moment he just stared at me.
Then his expression softened.
“No,” he said gently. “Don’t be sorry.”
He hesitated for a second before leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss against my cheek.
“It just caught me off guard,” he added with a shy smile.
He helped me out of the photo booth, gently holding the curtain aside so I wouldn’t trip on the small step. The strip of photos slid out of the machine a moment later, still warm from printing. I carefully tucked them into my pocket, feeling a strange sense of happiness knowing we had captured that moment together.
We continued walking until we reached the small grocery store down the street.
Inside, the warm lights and quiet chatter of other shoppers made the place feel cozy. Yunho grabbed a small basket and started walking through the aisles while I followed beside him.
He moved with an easy familiarity, stopping here and there to grab ingredients for the tteokbokki. Rice cakes. Fish cakes. Gochujang. Each time he picked something up, he would pause to read the label carefully before placing it into the basket.
I found myself watching him more than the shelves.
There was a little crease between his eyebrows as he focused, and he did this cute squinting thing whenever he was trying to read something closely.
It was subtle, but once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop looking.
I tilted my head slightly, studying him.
Is this how he feels when I scrunch my nose while irritated?
The thought made a small smile tug at my lips.
He suddenly glanced up and caught me staring.
“What?” he asked, a little amused.
I quickly looked away, pretending to study a nearby shelf. “Nothing.” But the smile on my face didn’t disappear.
Yunho watched me for a second longer before chuckling softly and returning to reading the package in his hand, completely unaware that the little things he did like that tiny squint were slowly making my heart feel warmer every minute we spent together.
Before we left the store, the soft patter of rain began tapping against the windows. I glanced outside and saw the sky had darkened, droplets quickly turning into a steady drizzle.
“Oh,” I murmured.
Yunho followed my gaze and chuckled softly. “Looks like we’re not walking back dry.”
Before we headed out, he grabbed a simple tan umbrella from a small rack near the register and paid for it. As soon as we stepped outside, he quickly opened it above us, the soft whoosh of the fabric spreading overhead. The rain fell steadily around us, tapping gently against the umbrella.
We walked close together down the sidewalk, Yunho holding the grocery bag in one hand while the other held the umbrella above us. The space underneath was small, so our shoulders brushed occasionally as we walked.
Each time it happened, my heart fluttered a little.
The cool air smelled fresh after the rain, and the quiet sound of our footsteps mixed with the soft rhythm of water hitting the pavement. For a moment, everything felt peaceful. By the time we reached the apartment building, the rain had picked up slightly. We hurried inside, shaking off the water as we stepped into the warm lobby. Once we got upstairs and into the apartment, we both slipped off our jackets and hung them by the door.
I ran my fingers through my slightly damp hair while Yunho carried the grocery bag into the kitchen.
He set it down on the counter and began pulling out the ingredients one by one, lining them up neatly.
The rice cakes. The sauce. The fish cakes.
Watching him move around the kitchen so comfortably made something warm settle in my chest again. It felt natural like this was something we had done together many times before.
I leaned lightly against the counter, watching him as he worked.
“Chef Yunho,” I teased softly. “What’s my job?” He glanced up at me with a small smile, clearly amused.
“Your job?” he repeated thoughtfully. Then he grabbed a cutting board and gently slid it toward me across the counter. “You can start by cutting these,” he said, handing me a package of fish cakes. He paused for a moment before adding with a playful grin, “Let’s see if you still remember how.”
I picked up the knife slowly, turning it in my hand as I looked down at the cutting board. For a moment, doubt crept into my mind. What if I didn’t remember how to do something as simple as this?
Yunho must have noticed the hesitation because his voice softened. “Hey… there’s no pressure. We can figure it out together.” I nodded and carefully unwrapped the fish cakes. My fingers moved slowly at first, lining them up neatly on the board. Then I began cutting them into strips.
After the first few slices, something shifted.
My hands started moving more naturally, the knife gliding through the soft texture like my body already knew what to do. Yunho leaned lightly against the counter across from me, watching quietly.
A small smile spread across his face.
“You used to do it exactly like that,” he said softly.
I paused and looked up at him. “Really?” He nodded. “You always cut them into long pieces because you said they tasted better that way.”
I glanced back down at the cutting board, surprised. “I don’t remember deciding that.”
“You might not remember,” he said gently, “but some things stay.” His words settled warmly in my chest.
Soon the kitchen filled with the soft sounds of cooking. Yunho moved beside me, heating the pan while I finished preparing the ingredients. When he mixed the sauce, the smell of garlic and spicy gochujang slowly filled the apartment.
My stomach growled again.
“That smells amazing,” I said with a small laugh.
Yunho chuckled quietly. “You say that every time.”
I leaned against the counter beside him, watching as he added the rice cakes and fish cakes into the bubbling red sauce. The mixture began to simmer, thick and glossy, filling the whole kitchen with warmth.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the gentle bubbling from the pan.
Then Yunho reached up to a cabinet and grabbed two bowls. As he set them down on the counter, his elbow accidentally brushed a small jar sitting near the edge.
The jar tipped.
Before either of us could react, it fell to the floor with a loud crack.
I flinched slightly as glass scattered across the tile.
“I’m so sorry,” Yunho said quickly, crouching down. “I didn’t see it there.”
But as I stared at the broken pieces on the floor, something strange happened.
A sudden flash crossed my mind.
A kitchen.
The same counter.
Yunho laughing while flour covered his hands.
And me—standing right here beside him.
The memory disappeared as quickly as it came. My breath caught, and I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“(Y/N)?” Yunho’s voice was instantly worried as he stood up. “What’s wrong?”
My heart was racing.
“I… I think I just remembered something.”
Yunho helped me over to the couch, guiding me carefully as I sat down. My head still felt a little light from the sudden rush of memories, but the warmth of his hand around mine kept me grounded.
He knelt slightly in front of me, his eyes searching my face with quiet concern.
“Do you know what you remembered?” he asked softly.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece the moment together. “We were laughing in the kitchen,” I said. “You had flour all over your hands… and then everything got fuzzy.”
For a moment Yunho just stared at me.
Then recognition lit up his face. “The cookie competition,” he said.
I blinked in confusion. “A cookie competition?”
He nodded, a small laugh escaping him as the memory clearly replayed in his mind. “You entered us in one at a local festival. I had no idea what I was doing, but you were determined we were going to win.”
I smiled faintly, trying to imagine it.
“We were making the dough,” he continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “I kept throwing flour on the counter so it wouldn’t stick. At one point I accidentally touched my face with flour-covered hands.”
He gestured toward his cheek, laughing a little at the memory.
I couldn’t help but laugh softly too. “I see we have a history of cooking together,” I said.
Yunho’s smile softened. “We’ve always done it,” he replied gently. “You used to say a family that cooks together stays together.”
Without really thinking, I began fidgeting with his hand where it rested near mine.
“That’s what my mom always told me,” I said quietly.
For a moment Yunho went completely still.
His heart fluttered at my words, and something hopeful flickered in his eyes—like a small light finally turning on after days of darkness.
Before either of us could say anything else, a sudden smell drifted through the room.
Both of our heads turned toward the kitchen.
“The food!” Yunho suddenly shouted.
He jumped to his feet and rushed toward the kitchen so quickly that he nearly slipped on the tile floor.
“Whoa—!”
“Are you okay?” I called out, half concerned and half laughing.
“I’m fine!” he replied quickly, steadying himself against the counter. “I do that all the time.”
I giggled quietly as I watched him casually walk the rest of the way into the kitchen like nothing had happened.
And somehow, seeing him like that—clumsy, warm, and completely himself—made my chest feel lighter than it had in days.
Dinner turned out better than I expected. The tteokbokki was warm, spicy, and comforting, and honestly it was some of the most delicious tteokbokki I had ever tasted. I sat across from Yunho at the table, laughing as he shared story after story about us—little moments from our life together that I couldn’t remember but somehow still felt familiar.
“There was one time,” he said, barely holding back his laughter, “when you tried to surprise me with breakfast in bed.”
“That sounds sweet,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
“It would have been,” he continued, “if you hadn’t tripped on the blanket and dropped pancakes all over me.”
I gasped. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” he laughed. “Syrup everywhere.”
I couldn’t help but laugh with him, even if I couldn’t picture it myself. The way he told the stories made them feel real, like pieces of a life slowly being returned to me.
After dinner we cleaned up together, rinsing plates and stacking dishes into the rack. Yunho turned on some music while we worked, and the soft sound filled the apartment as we wiped the counters and put away the ingredients.
It felt… normal.
Comfortable.
Like we had done this together a thousand times before.
I was drying my hands when a slower song began playing through the speakers. Yunho suddenly paused, listening to the familiar melody.
He looked at me for a moment before stepping closer and offering me his hand.
“This was our wedding song,” he said softly.
My heart skipped.
I looked down at his hand for a moment before placing mine in it. He gently pulled me closer, one hand resting carefully at my waist as we began to sway slowly in the middle of the kitchen.
I smiled softly, letting myself relax into the moment.
The room felt warm, the lights soft above us as the music wrapped around the quiet space. My eyes slowly lifted to meet his, and the moment our gazes locked, my heart began racing again.
There was something about the way Yunho looked at me.
So full of love.
Like he had been waiting his whole life just to stand here with me.
“I vaguely remember now,” I whispered.
Yunho’s movement stilled slightly.
Another memory flickered through my mind—soft and warm.
White lights. Soft music. Me in a flowing dress.
Yunho standing in front of me in a suit, his eyes looking exactly the way they did right now.
We were dancing. Just like this.
Then the memory slipped away again.
But this time, instead of frustration, I felt something warm settle in my chest.
I smiled quietly to myself. “I had another one,” I said softly. Yunho looked down at me immediately, his eyes searching mine with hope. “What did you see?”
I squeezed his hand gently.
“We were both dressed up,” I said slowly. “Wedding attire.” My voice softened as the image replayed faintly in my mind.
“We were slowly dancing to this song.”
Yunho froze for a moment after I said it.
His hands were still resting gently at my waist, but I felt the slight tremor in them. He looked at me like he was afraid to move, like if he did the moment might disappear.
“You remember that?” he asked quietly.
“Just a little,” I admitted. “It’s blurry… like looking through fog. But I remember how it felt.”
I paused before meeting his eyes again.
“I remember being happy.”
Something in Yunho’s expression softened immediately. Relief, warmth, and disbelief flickered across his face all at once.
“You were,” he said gently. “You were smiling the whole time.”
The song continued playing softly in the background as we kept swaying in the middle of the kitchen. This time Yunho pulled me a little closer, slowly and carefully, like he was checking to make sure it was okay.
I didn’t pull away. If anything, I stepped closer myself.
My head rested lightly against his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. For a moment, everything felt peaceful.
“You cried during the vows,” Yunho said suddenly, his voice quiet above me.
I tilted my head up to look at him. “I did?”
He laughed softly. “You tried really hard not to. But the second I started reading mine, you lost it.” I groaned quietly. “That’s embarrassing.”
“No,” he said immediately. “It was my favorite part.”
I blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“Because it meant you really loved me,” he said simply.
My chest tightened slightly at his words.
For a moment we just looked at each other, standing close together in the soft light of the kitchen. The music was still playing, but it had faded into the background.
Then something unexpected happened.
Another tiny flash of memory.
Not a full scene this time—just a feeling.
Standing across from him.
Holding his hands. Promising something.
My breath caught.
“Yunho…” I whispered.
His eyes widened instantly. “Another one?”
I nodded slowly, trying to hold onto the fading moment. “I think… we were saying our vows.” His expression softened again, hope filling his gaze. “You told me something,” I continued, concentrating. “You said… you’d fall in love with me in every lifetime.”
Yunho’s breath caught.
For a moment he couldn’t speak.
Then he smiled softly, the kind of smile that carried years of love inside it.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I did.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
We were still standing in the middle of the kitchen, the music playing softly around us as we swayed slowly together. Yunho’s arms remained around me, gentle but secure.
My heart was still racing from the memory.
It wasn’t clear, and it didn’t last long, but it was real.
Morning light slowly filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the room. I lay still for a few quiet moments, listening to the faint sounds of the city waking up outside.
Then I noticed something else.
The steady sound of breathing beside me.
My eyes opened fully and I turned my head slightly. Yunho was asleep on top of the covers, sitting up against the headboard. His head was tilted to the side, one arm loosely folded across his chest while the other rested near the edge of the bed, like he had been trying to stay awake but eventually lost the fight.
My heart squeezed a little at the sight. He must have stayed there all night.
Carefully, I pushed myself up against the pillows, trying not to wake him. His hair was slightly messy, falling across his forehead, and the soft morning light made him look peaceful.
I studied him quietly. There were faint shadows under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Even now, though, his expression looked calm. I wondered how many nights he had spent worrying about me. Without really thinking, I reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his face. The moment my fingers touched him, his eyes fluttered open.
For a split second he looked confused. Then he saw me.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. “I think I’ve been awake for a while,” I admitted softly. He straightened slightly and ran a hand through his hair, clearly a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You slept sitting up all night?” I asked. He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve done worse.” I couldn’t help smiling faintly.
“You know there’s plenty of room on the bed, right?” Yunho froze for a moment. A faint blush crept up his neck as he rubbed the back of it awkwardly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly.
Something warm spread through my chest.
Even now, even after everything, he was still being careful with me.
I glanced down at the blanket in my lap before looking back up at him. “You wouldn’t have,” I said gently.
The room grew silent and my stomach growled loudly.
Yunho blinked before laughing softly. “Well,” he said, pushing himself off the bed, “I guess that means breakfast.” I laughed too as I slid out from under the covers. “Please tell me we’re not having tteokbokki again.” He looked over his shoulder with a playful grin.
“No promises.”
And for the first time since waking up in the hospital, the morning didn’t feel heavy or confusing… It felt hopeful.
We walked into the kitchen together, the soft morning light spilling in through the windows. The apartment felt calm and quiet, the kind of peaceful start that made the whole place feel warm. “I think I’m in the mood for pancakes, bacon, and fruit,” I said as I leaned lightly against the counter.
Yunho smiled immediately. “That’s always been your favorite breakfast,” he said.
Something about the way he said it made my chest feel warm again. Even if I couldn’t remember it myself, he knew these little things about me so easily. He started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets and refrigerator, setting everything neatly on the counter. Flour, eggs, milk, a bowl, and a pan. “Alright,” he said, glancing over at me. “Teamwork again.”
“What’s my job?” I asked.
He grabbed a cutting board and set a small bowl of fruit in front of me. “You’re on fruit duty,” he said. “I’ll handle the pancakes and bacon.” I nodded confidently and started washing and cutting the fruit. It only took a moment before everything was sliced neatly into the bowl. “Done,” I announced proudly.
Yunho looked over at the bowl and then back at me with raised eyebrows. “You’re fast.” I laughed softly. “I had a very difficult task.” He shook his head with a quiet chuckle before turning back to the counter. I watched as he cracked eggs into the bowl and added the rest of the ingredients for the pancakes. His movements were smooth and practiced as he whisked everything together.
Without thinking, I leaned my elbows on the counter and watched him.
He had that same little squint again while he focused on measuring things, his eyebrows pulling together slightly in concentration.
It made me smile.
“You’re staring again,” he said suddenly, not even looking up.
My eyes widened. “I am not.” He glanced at me with a knowing smile.
“You do that when you’re thinking.”
“Oh really?” I said, folding my arms. “Yeah,” he replied casually while pouring batter into the pan. “You’ve done it since the day we met.”
The soft sizzling sound filled the kitchen as the pancakes began cooking. I watched him flip one carefully before asking quietly, “What was it like?” He paused slightly. “When we met?” I nodded.
Yunho smiled faintly, like the memory was one of his favorites. “You spilled coffee on me,” he said.
My jaw dropped. “I did not.” He laughed.
“You absolutely did.” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Please tell me I at least apologized.”
“Oh you did,” he said, flipping another pancake. “About twenty times.” I peeked at him through my fingers.
“And somehow you still married me?” He glanced over at me with that soft, warm smile again. “Best accident that ever happened to me.” I laughed, a little embarrassed as I leaned against the counter. “So… did I work at a diner or something?” Yunho nodded while carefully flipping another pancake in the pan. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
The smell of pancakes and bacon slowly filled the kitchen, making my stomach rumble again. I watched him for a moment before another question popped into my head. “And what were you doing there?” I asked. “Were you with your friends or something?” He nodded again. “Yeah. A few of us stopped in after practice.” I tilted my head, curiosity growing. “So wait… now that we’re on the subject,” I said, crossing my arms slightly, “what’s your job like?” Yunho glanced up at me briefly before looking back at the pancakes.
“Well,” he said casually, “I’m part of a boy group.” I blinked.
“A boy group?”
“Yeah,” he continued. “Our name is Ateez.” My eyes widened instantly. “Wait— I know Ateez!” I said quickly. “I used to be a huge fan.” Yunho tried to stay calm, but I noticed the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he flipped another pancake. “I even remember crushing hard on one of them,” I continued, thinking out loud.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding confidently. “It was Yunho.” Then I froze. My brain slowly caught up with my words.
“…Wait a damn minute.” Yunho burst out laughing.
I pointed at him dramatically, my mouth falling open as the realization hit me. “YOU!” He could barely hold the spatula from laughing. “You had a crush on me?” he teased.
I covered my face with my hands in pure embarrassment. “Oh my god.” He leaned against the counter, still laughing. “So technically,” he added playfully, “you married your celebrity crush.” I groaned loudly.
“Please tell me I didn’t fangirl when we met.” Yunho smirked. “Oh, you definitely did.”
“So wait,” I said, still trying to wrap my head around everything. “How did we start dating? I mean… I can imagine your schedule was busy all the time with fans, signings, and concerts.”
Yunho shrugged lightly, flipping another pancake onto the plate. “The diner kind of became my favorite restaurant after I met you.” I blinked at him. “Wait,” I said slowly, starting to smile. “So you came to the diner just to see me?” He nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world.“Every chance I got.” Heat rushed to my face immediately and I turned away slightly, embarrassed by the thought.
“You’re kidding,” I mumbled, trying to hide my blush.
“Nope,” he said casually, placing another pancake on the stack. “At first I told the members it was because the food was good.” I raised an eyebrow.
“And was it?” He looked at me with a teasing smile. “It was. But that wasn’t the real reason.” My cheeks burned even more. “So what happened next?” I asked quietly. “Well,” Yunho said, leaning against the counter. “Eventually you started recognizing me.” I groaned softly. “Oh no.”
“But you were surprisingly normal about it,” he continued. “You didn’t treat me like a celebrity. You just treated me like… a guy who ordered pancakes too often.” I laughed a little at that. “So we kept talking,” he said. “Every time I came in.”
“Which was apparently a lot,” I added.
He smiled.
“A lot.”
The bacon sizzled softly in the pan as he continued. “Then one day I asked if you wanted to come to a concert.” My eyes widened slightly. “I did?”
“You did,” he said with a small nod. “You were nervous the whole time.”
“I can imagine,” I muttered. “But after that,” he continued, “you started coming to more shows.” I leaned against the counter again, listening closely. “You supported me through everything,” he said softly. “Comebacks, tours, late nights at the studio.”
Something warm settled in my chest hearing that.
“And eventually,” he added, “when we got married and moved in together, we agreed you didn’t have to work at the diner anymore.” I blinked in surprise. “Really?” He nodded. “You worked hard for years,” he said gently. “I wanted you to be able to do what made you happy.” I looked down at the counter, trying to imagine the life he was describing. “You really loved me, didn’t you?” I said quietly.
Yunho didn’t hesitate.
“Still do.” The kitchen slowly fell quiet.
The smell of pancakes and bacon still lingered in the air, but the lighthearted mood from earlier had faded. I leaned against the counter, my fingers tracing the edge of the bowl of fruit as a question sat heavily in my chest. “I do have one more question,” I said softly.
Yunho looked up from the stove.
“What is it?” I hesitated for a moment before asking the thing that had been bothering me since I woke up in the hospital. “What happened before the accident?” The moment the words left my mouth, I saw his expression change. His shoulders stiffened slightly, and the small smile on his face disappeared. For the first time that morning, he looked nervous.
The silence stretched for a moment.
“Well…” he began quietly.
He turned the stove off before resting his hands on the counter, staring down at it as if the answer was written there.
“We had gotten into an argument.” I felt my chest tighten slightly. “About what?”
“My schedule,” he said. “About how much I was gone.” His voice was calm, but there was a heaviness in it now. “You said you were tired of always being alone. That you wanted a normal life… one where your husband was actually home.” I swallowed.
“And you were right,” he added quietly. “But in the moment I wasn’t listening.” His fingers tightened slightly against the counter. “I was being selfish. I kept saying the group needed me and that you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.” The kitchen suddenly felt much smaller. “We both said things we didn’t mean,” he continued.
His voice started to shake.
“I remember you getting really upset… and you said you hated me.” My heart dropped.
Yunho let out a shaky breath as he ran a hand over his face.
“You grabbed your keys and left.” His voice cracked slightly. “And then…”
Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them.
“I just wish I had stopped you,” he said quietly. “I wish I would’ve told you not to go.”
His shoulders slumped as the guilt he had clearly been carrying poured out.
“I should’ve protected you more.”
The words hung heavy in the air between us.
“Yunho…” I whispered, my chest tightening as I saw the tears still streaming down his face. A wave of guilt washed over me. Even though I couldn’t fully remember that moment, the thought of saying something like that to him made my stomach twist painfully. I stepped closer and gently reached up, wiping the tears from his cheeks with my thumb. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” I said softly.
My own eyes began to fill with tears as the emotion of everything finally caught up with me. “I’m sorry for saying that to you,” I continued quietly. “I know my words won’t take back what I said.” My voice trembled slightly as I looked up at him. “But I want to show you.” Yunho’s eyes searched mine, still glassy with tears. “I’m falling in love with you more and more every day,” I said.
The kitchen felt completely silent now except for our breathing.
“I want to spend every moment with you,” I continued. “I know I can’t remember the past and how we were… but I want to look forward to the future.” His expression softened slowly as he listened. “The memories we make from now on,” I added gently.
My hand slipped into his, squeezing it softly.
“You give me so many reasons to live for,” I whispered. “And I’m so lucky to have you.” For a moment Yunho just stared at me.
Then he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest like he never wanted to let go.
“I love you,” I said softly, looking up at him. The words felt natural leaving my lips, like they had been sitting in my heart for a long time just waiting to be spoken again.
Yunho’s breath caught slightly.
I reached up and gently caressed the side of his face, my fingers brushing along his cheek. His skin was warm beneath my touch, and the way he looked at me made my heart race all over again.
Slowly, he leaned down.
Our faces were close now—so close that I could feel his breath against my lips. My eyes flickered down to his mouth for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
The moment stretched, quiet and fragile.
Then—
A sharp sizzle filled the kitchen.
The smell of burning bacon suddenly hit the air.
Yunho’s eyes widened.
“The bacon!” he shouted.
He spun around quickly and rushed back to the stove, grabbing the pan just in time. A thin trail of smoke curled up toward the ceiling as he hurriedly turned off the burner.
I couldn’t help it.
I burst out laughing.
Yunho glanced over his shoulder at me, looking slightly flustered as he waved the smoke away. “Well,” he said, trying to salvage the moment, “romantic timing isn’t exactly our strength.” I leaned against the counter, still laughing. “Apparently not.” He looked down at the pan and sighed dramatically. “On the bright side,” he added, “the pancakes survived.” I walked over beside him and peeked into the pan.
The bacon, however, was a different story.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Define ‘survived.’”
Yunho scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
“…crispy?”
We laughed over the burnt bacon, teasing each other about our “romantic timing fail,” but honestly, it didn’t matter. The pancakes were fluffy, the fruit was fresh, and the simple act of eating together made the breakfast feel perfect. To me, it didn’t matter that a little bacon had sacrificed itself—it was the moment that counted.
After clearing the dishes and tidying up the kitchen, we got ourselves ready for the day. I chose something comfortable, and Yunho went with casual as well, though he still looked effortlessly put together. There was a quiet excitement between us, a shared understanding that today didn’t need to be anything extraordinary.
Once we stepped outside, the afternoon air greeted us softly. It was crisp, fresh, and just a little cool, with the sun casting gentle warmth on our faces. We walked side by side, fingers brushing occasionally, and I found myself smiling more than I had in days.
Yunho kept stealing glances at me, his expression soft and content, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. I felt it too—the comfort, the familiarity, even if my memory hadn’t caught up yet. Every step felt like a new memory waiting to be made, and somehow, walking beside him in the quiet afternoon, it felt like home.
The evening sky was soft and golden as Yunho and I returned to the apartment, our fingers intertwined like they had always belonged together. The city hummed quietly outside, but inside, it felt like our own little world. Every step, every touch, every glance reminded me of the connection that had never truly gone away, even when my memory had.
Once inside, we settled on the couch, still holding hands. The apartment smelled faintly of the pancakes and bacon we had burned this morning, a reminder of the imperfect, yet perfect, day we had shared. Yunho’s arm came around me naturally, and I rested my head against his shoulder, letting the warmth of him seep into me.
“I’m glad I get to fall in love with you all over again,” I whispered, feeling the words settle in my chest like sunlight.
Yunho smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “And I’m glad I get to hold your hand through it every step of the way,” he replied, his voice gentle, full of everything I needed to hear.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. There was no rush, no need to fill the quiet with words. Instead, we let the evening stretch around us, a soft cocoon of warmth, love, and new memories waiting to be made.
I tilted my head up slightly to meet his gaze. “I know I can’t remember everything,” I said softly, “but being with you… it feels right. Like it’s always been this way.”
Yunho leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “It always has been,” he murmured. “And it always will be.”
I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest that was both familiar and new. The past didn’t matter anymore—not the argument, not the accident, not even the lost memories. What mattered was here, now, in this moment.
We stayed like that for a long while, holding each other, letting the world fade around us. Every laugh, every touch, every heartbeat reminded me that some love doesn’t need to be remembered to be real. It just needs to be felt.
And as the evening turned into night, with the city lights twinkling like tiny stars outside our window, I knew one thing for certain: no matter what tomorrow brought, we would face it together. Choosing each other, every single day, was enough.
Because love like ours wasn’t just about memories. It was about moments. And this right here, right now was ours.
routine checkup (m) • jyh
part of the hockey!teez series — ateez masterlist
pairing: ice hockey player!yunho x reader
tags/genre: college au, ice hockey au, smut with plot, established relationship, golden retriever yunho loves his gf!!
word count: 6.0k words
synopsis: how convenient is it that you're dating one of the star players of the university's hockey team as a sports medicine major? you couldn't ask for a better test subject. of course, it becomes a little too much of a coincidence that he constantly needs you to check him for injuries, each one in a more scandalous place than the last ...
notes: 18+ content (mdni!). i think this might be one of my fave smut scenes i've written in a while so pls enjoy tee hee
“you’re going to want to focus your rom evaluation for the team in their hips,” dr. kim instructs from across the examination room. you nod without looking up, scribbling her notes on your ipad as she continues to break down what assessments you needed to perform.
“make sure to use the goniometer to—”
“follow your shot!”
“make sure to—”
“i said to follow your shot, mingi!”
“make—”
“bro, i did!”
“oh, goodness.” dr. kim huffs at the distant outbursts from the ice and shakes her head, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “these boys and their yelling.”
you laugh at her exasperation and set aside your ipad, propping your chin between your palms while your elbows rest on the padding of the examination table. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you requested to shadow the university’s medical staff for the hockey team. their reputation was unmatched, both on and off the ice.
of course, it was a nice bonus that your boyfriend was on the starting lineup.
“i’ve got it,” you assure her, “i’ll make sure to submit all my notes when i’m reporting my hours.”
“good,” the older woman answers, glancing at her laptop before she rises from her rolling chair. “i’m headed back to my office, but just an email or phone call away if you need anything.”
“thank you!” you call after her as she disappears into the hallways that lead out of the stadium. the examination room becomes eerily quiet, save for the hums from medical equipment and your apple pencil tapping against your screen as you review your lecture from earlier. suddenly, the door creeps open and you hear heavy footsteps approaching you.
“can i help you?” you ask, unable to hide the smile that grows on your face when you glance up at yunho. he forces a pitiful expression onto his face, his fingers wrapped tightly around his bicep. the way he sulks, even for show, never fails to tug at your heartstrings.
“i think i’m dying.”
“i think you’re fine,” you scold and roll your eyes at his theatrics. “but, if it’ll give you peace of mind, i’ll take a look.”
“best therapist ever,” he sings, swinging tall legs so that he’s sat on the examination table before you. for one of the few occasions, he’s eye to eye with you.
“i’m not a therapist yet,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for his arm. “and if you keep faking injuries, you won’t see a real one if something serious happens.”
“but you love having me as a patient,” he retorts with a comical frown etched across his face. yunho surrenders his arm to you as you prod at the muscles across his arm through the fabric of his jersey. he stares unabashedly at you as you mentally assess him, lost in thought while you apply pressure to where he claimed his injury was.
“does that hurt?”
“i mean, define hurt.”
“yunho,” you scold, tracing your fingers along the length of his biceps for any final signs of an injury he might not be faking. seeing none, you shake your head and release your grip on his arm. “you realize you’d barely be able to lift that arm if you were actually in pain?”
“are you sure?”
“pretty sure you’re not dying.” you fail to contain your laugh at the way he bounds off of the table with glee regardless, throwing said injured arm around your waist so that you were pulled against his torso. even after a round of practice, his familiar scent still lingers on his skin and engulfs you. “although, you might kill me if your grip gets any tighter.”
“fine, fine,” he sighs and releases you with a quick kiss to your forehead. “how’s shadowing going, though?”
“well, i think,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip as you scan the room for anything you needed to address before shutting down the equipment and leading him out of the room so that you could lock up. “dr. kim has been really helpful. it’s been good to help assess real bodies and not just plastic dummies in class.”
“speaking of dummies,” yunho mutters to you as the rest of the team clamors through the narrow halls with their voices loud and resounding against the hollow concrete. they cry out when they see the pair of you, their sticks clattering against the walls and their pads squeaking against their restraints.
“so, is yunho dying?” mingi scoffs, earning a shove from your boyfriend. you shake your head and swat his arm playfully.
“not today, he’s not.”
“he might if he doesn’t tighten up his defense before our game next week,” hongjoong jokes, although the sheepish grin that flashes across yunho’s face tells you that this isn’t the first time he’s been lectured to pick up the slack on the ice.
“i’m sure he will,” you assure him, a cutting glance in your peripheral at yunho as a reminder to talk about it later. “no more faking injuries to waste time off the ice.”
“but i was—”
“bro, you were fine!” wooyoung groans, shoving past him with a dramatic sigh.
“god forbid a man just wants to spend time with his girl,” yunho hums, throwing his arm over your shoulders and continuing out of the arena while you wave a hasty goodbye at the boys with a promise to check on them during their next practice.
“that’s not natural.”
“if you don’t want your hips to lock on the ice, you better follow along.”
you sit cross-legged beside yunho later that night on the floor of his bedroom, your ipad propped against the leg of his chair so that you could practice a stretching routine you’d been recommended by one of the older sports med students. currently, the soles of your feet were pressed together with your knees as far apart as possible. yunho grumbles beside you, awkwardly contorting his long limbs so that he can mimic the instructions until a sharp yelp escapes him.
“i feel like i’m about to split in half.”
“that means it’s working.” you outstretch your arms so that you can arch your back more deeply. “and stop holding your breath.”
a wheeze escapes yunho as he tries to steady his breathing and you laugh under your breath before relieving yourself from the stretch, shifting instead to helping your not-so-limber boyfriend with his poor hip flexors. he furrows his brows at the tension in his legs, watching as you adjust his posture so that you can press your hands to his knees.
“deeper,” you instruct, applying a gentle pressure that he quickly flinches beneath.
“i think you just want to break me,” he groans through gritted teeth as he seems to finally relax into the position.
“y’know, there’s plenty of benefits to torturing yourself like this,” you scold, fidgeting with his limbs so that he doesn’t strain himself. once he’s in a comfortable stretch, you retreat and brush the hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes.
“like?”
“well, being faster on the ice, for one,” you say casually before you shift your weight to the heels of your palms on the wooden floor.
“well, i figured that much,” he chides, “what else?”
“mm,” you hum as you stare at him with narrowed eyes. he meets your gaze, now with an arched brow as he slowly releases himself from the stretch. you crawl towards him just enough so that your voice can dip lower, a teasing smile crossing your features. “tight hip flexors can really limit your range of motion. it can create tension in surrounding muscles and make … certain activities less enjoyable than they can be.”
“like?” he repeats, hooking onto your every word as a new tone overtakes his voice. he matches your expression as he pulls you onto his lap, snaking his arms around your waist to trace his fingers over the small of your back.
“any positions where the hips are extended,” you lilt, threading a hand through his hair as he stares up at you. “missionary, standing on the edge of the bed …”
“sounds like i need to keep stretching then,” yunho replies, his breath growing heavier as he ghosts his lips over yours.
a gasp slips out of you before he pulls you into a kiss, his hands sliding down your back to position you over his cock. you shudder at the familiar feeling, relishing the taste of him as he rocks your hips against his in a slow, languid motion. his kisses trail away from your lips and to your jaw, your throat. he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot and you whimper in response, throwing your head back with another shaky breath.
yunho hums against your skin and you can feel the thundering of his heart beneath his ribcage as your hands trail down his torso. he pulls away from you just enough so that you can meet his lust-filled gaze, his lips parted as he shivers under your touch beneath the hem of his shirt.
you rake your nails across the surface of his skin, warm to the touch and even warmer when you graze past his sweats. he curses under his breath, his hips lifting off of the floor to meet yours—
“bro, can i borrow your—oh—” another voice cuts through the tension and you shoot up, nearly falling out of yunho’s lap in the process. yunho glares over your shoulder at wooyoung. “fuck, sorry. i was just trying to borrow your headphones.”
“you couldn’t knock?” yunho scolds, his body rigid beneath yours. disappointed, you slide off of him and onto the floor to retrieve your ipad.
“you couldn’t lock your door?” wooyoung snaps back, glancing at you with a sheepish grin. you roll your eyes at his expression, trying and failing to appear mad at him for more than a fraction of a second before a scoff slips out of you. “carry on.” he shuts the door behind him in a haste.
yunho pouts at you in defeat. “man.”
“oh, you big baby,” you tease, shoving yourself off of the floor as he does the same. he stretches his hands overhead with a dramatic groan, his body falling limp as he pulls you towards his bed and beneath the sheets. “acting like this is the last time we’ll ever hook up.”
“still!” he protests, caging your body beside his. a comforting warmth radiates off of him as you bury your face in his chest with a deep sigh. the way he strokes your hair causes your own body to relax in his arms as you drift quickly to sleep.
at the next practice, an unexpected injury captures your attention.
you’re seated in the stands for the time being, monitoring the ways in which the players rotate their muscles on the ice and how they shift into different positions when a sharp curse echoes across the rink. the sound of skates cutting through the ice as they halt to a stop resounds against the plexiglass and you look up in curiosity.
dr. kim calls out orders from the corner of the ice, ready to assess injury as the boys assist san towards her. you shuffle down through the bleachers and quickly arrive at her side before you follow them through the tunnel. san grimaces as you help guide him onto the examination table, gripping a gloved hand over his thigh.
“here?” dr. kim asks calmly, ghosting a hand over his inner thigh before he nods once. she glances back at you and takes a step back. “you want to perform the initial assessment?”
ignoring the nerves prick at your skin, you nod with as much confidence as you could muster and approach san with a sympathetic smile. he tries to mirror your expression but it looks more pained than anything else. dr. kim settles onto her stool beside the laptop to open his records for reporting while you take a look at him.
“okay,” you begin, stepping between his knees. “can you let me know if it’s tender when i palpate?” he nods and you press your hands, more clinical and controlled than the way your hands roamed over yunho not even a full twenty-four hours prior, along the inside of his thigh.
you move with deliberate pressure, mentally expecting him to have pulled his adductor. a sharp inhale escapes him and he winces, causing you to look over at dr. kim in confirmation. you instruct him through bending his knees, moving through a series of stretches while san continues to groan and flinch under your touch.
“it’s a mild adductor strain,” you tell him once he’s been sat straight. “ice, compression, rest. we’ll keep an eye on it for the next day or so, but don’t try to push through the pain and play or you’ll feel worse by the next game.”
“good job,” dr. kim commends you quietly, filing away san’s injury before glancing up from the laptop with a satisfied smile.
san beams at you in spite of his pain. “thanks, doc.”
“anytime,” you answer, trying not to let your ego inflate from the praise. a shuffle in the doorframe forces you to shift your attention as yunho peers into the examination room. you arch a brow, silently scolding him in disbelief as he dramatically limps into the room.
“yes, yunho.” dr. kim lowers her glasses, her eyes shifting between the pair of you as san staggers away on his tender leg. yunho blinks, a string of stammers slipping out of him as his hands roam over his body before stopping on his hip.
“my, uh—my hips feel really tight,” he laments, his gaze locked on you. “i think i should get looked at.”
“so, you won’t mind if i perform your assessment, then?” the older woman asks, crossing her arms over her torso as yunho’s brows rise in surprise. you bite down on your tongue to keep from laughing as he straightens near immediately.
“no, no,” yunho answers quickly, throwing up his hands in surrender. “i just—i thought she could use the clinical hours.”
“she just earned them on someone who was actually injured,” dr. kim scolds, her gaze trailing over every inch of him. “which, you clearly aren’t.” yunho glances over at you in a plea for help that you ignore with a hum, becoming incredibly focused on sanitizing the examination table. “i know it’s all in good fun to spend more time down here, but you’re in the starting lineup. your hips take a tremendous amount of strain so i’d appreciate it if you didn’t cry wolf and have me worried about you when i don’t need to be.”
“yes, ma’am,” he replies, his shoulders slumped while mingi passes through the hallway with a low whistle for dramatic effect. you swallow, sorry for yunho’s lecture but very much aware that she was right.
the week carries on quickly. yunho isn’t as eager to disturb you in the examination room, focusing instead on running drills with the team and even allowing you to guide him through stretching routines in the nights leading up to the game. the playfulness you were used to was replaced by a stoic sense of determination you were only used to when there was a major game. you’d heard rumors of how intense the mavericks played and the type of preparation they went through before a game. you weren’t even on the ice and you felt the pressure.
dr. kim urges you to take the night off and you reject her attempts. if there were ever a time to learn about operating in a high-pressure environment, it would be a game night like this. the crowd roars around you and you look around from your spot beside the rink, along with the rest of the clinical staff at the tunnel entrance. as much as you would have loved to don yunho’s jersey for the night and be up in the stands screaming for him, your uniform and badge reel for the medical team would have to do instead.
the mavericks enter the ring first and the home crowd cheers as the sound of their skates cuts across the ice in a sea of black. the arena lights dim lightly after their entrance, the spotlight trailing to the far entrance before the announcer’s voice blasts through the speakers. you shift your weight beside dr. kim, trying to focus on her small talk while the voyagers come out onto the ice and your heart lurches from the adrenaline. you catch sight of the #11 on yunho’s jersey and press your lips shut to not cheer in support beside the stone-faced medics.
“let’s go, boys,” you say to yourself, your fists clenching and unclenching as you keep an eye on the overhead monitor to watch the game more closely.
the first drop of the puck captures your attention, bodies colliding and ice spraying in every direction while the crowd clamors over which team deserves possession. you were no stranger to the games—you’d been to countless since you’d started dating yunho and he’d been added to the starting lineup. this was different, though. being so close to the ice, knowing that you had a role to play.
“relax,” dr. kim eases, pressing a hand to your shoulder. you sigh, your eyes locked on yunho at the back end of the voyagers and the way his body moves in response to the rival players. you mentally scan every inch of him, from the rotation of his hips to the way his grip is positioned on his stick.
“yeah,” you answer, smiling apologetically without meeting her gaze. the whistle blows to signal the end of the first period, both teams hurrying to their corners and their coaches barking directions for them to adjust their plays. the voyagers were up one goal, making for an early comfortable lead.
you catch yunho’s gaze from the corner of the team’s bench, the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he turns back to the coach. your heart skips a beat and you try to ignore the anxiety you felt over him potentially getting hurt in exchange for chatting with the medics about your experience shadowing so far.
a surge of adrenaline fills the arena as the crowd roars to signal the start of the second period. the puck drops and the teams are back with renewed vigor. you grit your teeth when mingi is slammed into the nearby plexiglass, a curse slipping out of him before he regains his composure and skates back towards the center. there’s something in the air for the second period with the mavericks desperate to score.
the rival center forward weaves through the voyagers with ease, moving like water as he closes in on yeosang with the sound of sticks clattering behind him. you tense at his attempt—a successful one, at that—to score a goal and grumble when the audience loses their mind at the mavericks evening the score. you clap your hands and spout words of encouragement from your corner, biting down on a manicured nail when the puck returns to center.
a heated back-and-forth possession ensues, with the voyagers barely able to keep the puck to the far end of the rink where they needed it to be. yunho sweeps into the center behind seonghwa and is able to move it away from the mavericks, cutting inward and picking up his pace as he shouts to the rest of the team.
it happens faster than you’d expected.
yunho plants his right skate against the ice to pivot as a rival defenseman barrels across the ice towards him. the sound of bodies colliding cuts through the noise and you gasp as his torso rotates and you notice a sharp, unnatural shift in his hips from the impact. he loses possession and the crowd is quick to follow before yunho winces and lowers himself onto the ice, his gloved hand grabbing at his hip to ease the pain.
medics skate onto the ice as the garbled sound of the announcer’s commentary and the referee’s whistle flood your senses, your heart pounding as you await dr. kim’s instructions. her expression is unreadable as she prepares her station and one of the stretchers without a word. you look back towards yunho and hear something about him needing to be removed from the ice. he winces, his face drained of color as he fails to stabilize himself without the help of the medics on either side of him. they say something to him beneath the crowd’s chatter and examine his leg, wincing with a groan as you recognize the injury.
you swallow dryly, trying to pay attention to dr. kim’s explanation of what the next steps of the process would be in lieu of the concern that swarmed your mind. yunho’s unable to bear weight on his leg as he’s guided off of the ice, the rest of the boys watching with pale faces as they shift him onto one of the stretchers and prepare to guide him towards the examination room. he doesn’t so much as glance in your direction and your stomach drops when you realize this was far different than anytime he’d bothered you about wanting to be seen.
your hearing is muffled as you follow behind dr. kim with the announcer introducing a second lineup defenseman in yunho’s place. the examination room at the mavericks’ arena feels much more clinical, more sterile than you were used to. you watch as yunho is moved onto the table with careful coordination, any shift in his right leg causing him to grit his teeth in pain.
“tell me exactly where the pain is,” dr. kim says professionally, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as he stands before him.
“in the front,” he rasps, gesturing to the side of his leg below his hip.
“on the planted foot when the defense forced rotation?”
“mhm.”
you shift closer, trying selfishly to catch his eye while dr. kim recites information to document in his record. your fingers tap along the keyboard as you listen further. she flexes his hip to nearly ninety degrees and he yelps, his knuckles white as he grabs the edge of the table. she arches a brow and looks at you. “labral involvement.” she turns back to yunho with a grim expression. “you’re done for tonight. you don’t want to put any more pressure on that leg or your hips or else you’re looking at a much more severe injury.”
“seriously?” he scoffs, bitter at the fact that he was about to be benched. frustration simmers beneath the surface and you finally meet his gaze, the way he looks utterly defeated. “we’re tied out there.”
“seriously,” she parrots. “ice and compression. we’ll arrange crutches, but you’re done.”
you move quickly when dr. kim leaves to speak with the coaches, desperate for something to do to fill the silence as you tried to think of a way to comfort yunho. he doesn’t look at you and just stares forward at the wall while you press the ice pack against his hip and instruct him to not move.
“wasn’t planning on it.” you look up at him and he sighs, trying to mask his frustration with a weary smile as you apply gentle pressure. “at least you know i’m not faking this time.”
“shockingly, that doesn’t make me feel better,” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “i’m sorry, baby.”
“it is what it is,” he says with a resignation you weren’t used to from him. you support him quietly, guiding him to change in the locker room and helping to keep his leg elevated with the ice pack while you listen to the game coming to a close.
the voyagers return with slumped shoulders and fallen faces, confirming your suspicions that they failed to keep the lead. yunho meets them with a forlorn expression, dismissing any of their concerns for his leg in exchange for encouraging words that they would crush the mavericks at their next game.
the cold night air bites at you as you help yunho maneuver into the backseat of his car so that he could keep his leg outstretched. he curses under his breath as he lowers himself onto the leather, his hands gripping the doorframe.
“slow,” you instruct clinically and he grits his teeth.
“i’m going slow.”
you shut the door once he’s situated and circle around to the driver’s seat, settling as the engine hums to life with a sigh. thankfully, yunho’s building was easily accessible and there were elevators that would make his trip upstairs much easier. you glance at him in the rearview mirror as you pull off, your heart heavy at the expression on his face.
“i didn’t even see it coming,” he says suddenly and you tighten your grip on the steering wheel.
“i know.”
“it wasn’t even that hard of a hit.”
“it doesn’t have to be,” you inform him gently as he leans his head back against the window with a grimace. in the years you’d known yunho, there was rarely a moment where you found him anything but bright-eyed and positive. the injury absolutely crushed him, more than you feared you were able to console him for the time being.
“i’m gonna be useless for weeks,” he grumbles, more to himself than to you.
“you’re not,” you assure him, “you just need to heal.”
“hm.” you’re nearly to yunho’s apartment when he perks up suddenly, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror. “you know, i hate not finishing something when i start it.”
“you’ll be able to play sooner than you th—”
“i’m not talking about the game.”
at the stoplight, you whip your head around and find yunho staring at you expectantly with the first smile you’d seen from him since earlier that night. you scoff at his mention of the night wooyoung had stormed in and shake your head, turning back to the road when the light changes back to green.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“what! i’m not going to be able to practice or play for a while,” he explains, gesturing to his leg dramatically. “it’d be nice to have some entertainment in the meanwhile.”
“you’re injured!” you cry out, dumbfounded as you pull up to his building. from the parking lot to the hallway in front of his door, you shut down every one of his advances to convince you that he was in any condition to make love to you anytime soon.
“okay, but what if i took the crutches and—”
“you’re going to bed!” you snap, about to take the crutches away from him entirely and have him crawl along the floorboards when he finally accepts his loss and slinks away to bed in defeat.
the first two weeks feel like hell for yunho.
he’s in no condition to play, but he’s restless beyond belief. he sits at the edge of the rink during practices, his crutches stacked beside him in an empty seat. he stumbles through the halls to the examination room so he can watch you perform routine assessments on the other boys—of course, not without comments on how he was the one who needed the most attention from you given his condition. dr. kim scolds him like clockwork, instructing him that he needed to stay put until his follow-up.
you take yunho to and from his appointment and there’s a shift in the energy from the last several weeks.
“you heard her,” he says from the passenger seat, a smug grin plastered across his face. “cleared for physical activity.”
“that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“yes it does.”
“no, it doesn’t.”
he leans his head back against the leather headrest, glancing over at you with a pitiful expression. “i’ve been very patient, you know.”
“you’ve been unbearable,” you tease, patting his leg affectionately. he scoffs and rests his hand over yours, silent for the rest of the ride back to his apartment.
it’s the first time in weeks he’s able to walk independently without the crutches and you observe him like a hawk as he strolls down the hallway from the elevator. there’s no staggering in his pace and his hips sit normally, no signs of pain evident in his movements or his expression. the apartment is silent when you follow him in, the rest of the boys still occupied at practice. you follow yunho into his room and settle onto the edge of the bed, about to speak when he cages you between his hands pressed into the sheets.
“yes?” you ask, glancing up at him and struggling to ignore the tension that simmered between you. weeks of anticipation buzzed along your skin, coupled with the relief that you felt knowing that yunho had narrowly escaped a permanent injury. he arches a brow, leaning in just enough so that his lips brushed over yours.
“cleared for physical activity,” he repeats, more urgently this time. “please.”
“i—yunho,” you say softly beneath the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “are you sure? i don’t want you to risk anything if—”
“i’m really tired of waiting,” he nearly begs, his voice cracking with desperation. “c’mon.”
“… okay,” you finally breathe, barely able to get the word out by the time his mouth devours yours. he shifts onto the bed with his knees on either side of you and you can’t help but pull away to monitor his movements, slow and careful but seemingly painless. “go slow.”
“no promises,” he teases, lifting your legs to wrap them on either side of his waist as he meets your lips with another hungry kiss. little by little, you allow the worry to subside and melt into his touch with a soft sigh. yunho devours the sound with a groan of his own, shifting his hips just enough so that he could press his growing erection against your core with enough pressure to make you writhe under his touch.
you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in deeper, subconsciously shifting him to lay on his side so that he wouldn’t put strain on his hips. he obliges and turns you so that your back is pressed against his torso, quick to devour your neck in a string of open-mouthed kisses that have you grinding against him.
“fuck,” he mutters into your hair, his grip on your waist tightening with every move. you tilt your head back against his shoulder with a blissful sigh. it barely registers that he’s snaked his hand past the hem of your sweats to move your panties to the side. his breath hitches as he glides a fingertip along your folds, already dripping for him before he shoves two fingers inside of you.
“yunho,” you rasp with a tight grip on the sheets around you. he hums at the sound of his name and falls into a steady rhythm that you rock your hips against.
“just like that, baby girl,” he says through a groan, “ride my fingers.”
you oblige without protest, any rational thought long gone from your mind as you grind your hips down onto his hand. he inserts a third finger and you gasp from the sudden fullness as he continues pressing kisses to your shoulder. your mind reels from the feeling of his touch after what felt like an eternity, pleasure rocking against your core and setting every nerve ending on fire.
you can feel your orgasm clawing at you for release, your stomach tight with pleasure as your breath begins to quicken. before you can warn yunho, he slips his fingers out of you and you feel him shift slightly behind you before he lowers your sweats and lifts your leg over his. the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance and you gasp in unison when he positions himself to slide into you until he bottoms out.
yunho rumbles with a low growl as he begins to move, his entire length gliding along your walls and creating a delicious friction you hadn’t had in a while. he wraps a hand around your throat, keeping you confined to his touch as he thrusts against you in a lazy, staggered rhythm.
“good girl,” he says lowly, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to earn a whimper from you. “you like getting fucked like that?”
“mhm,” you mewl and arch your back against him, your hands grabbing at anything from the sheets to his forearm for stability as he fucks you harder. you can hear his breathing against the shell of your ear become heavier when you shift your weight to clench around him.
you tremble against yunho, your release coming even more quickly than before as you sink your nails into his arm with a drawn-out whimper in warning. he hisses at the sting and stills, slipping his cock out of you. you turn back enough to shoot him a glare in question.
“you made me wait, didn’t you?” he teases, his voice clipped from the restraint he was holding himself to.
“you were injured!” you cry out for what had to be the umpteenth time.
yunho just chuckles and shifts so that you can position yourself on top of him. you bite down on your bottom lip as you tactfully avoid his injured leg as much as possible and press your weight down onto him so that he bottoms out inside of you for the second time. you gasp, your lips parted and your eyelids heavy as you rock your hips against him to finally earn your orgasm.
without warning, yunho grabs your hips and keeps you steady so that he can buck his hips up and into you. his hair falls over his face as he pants, determined to regain control when you press a palm to his torso.
“your injury,” you pant breathlessly, your words nearly slurring.
“fuck the injury,” he groans, though it comes out in something more akin to a whine as he fights to keep up the pace. “i need to fuck you.”
“a-ah—!” you cry out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, his fingers digging into your hips with renewed vigor as he manages to slide fully in and out of you at his own speed. a satisfied grin hangs from his lips as you struggle to stay upright in his lap, falling over and burying your face in the crook of his neck so that he can drag you—finally—to your release.
“god, baby,” you gasp, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest when he hammers into you and you feel the wave of pleasure building, building until it finally spills over. you twitch against him, shuddering as you’re finally able to succumb to your orgasm. yunho groans, not far behind before he holds you steady and comes inside of you with a drawn-out breath.
you fight to steady your breathing as you sit upright, quick to glare at him. he meets you with an exhausted smile before brushing strands of hair from your face, his chest rising and falling from his own deep breaths. he slips out of you and sighs as you venture into the bathroom and return with a bottle of water and a fresh change of clothes.
“at least there’s one perk to being injured,” he lolls, his hands behind his head as he adjusts his hips against the sheets.
“don’t think i won’t be running you like the military to make sure you do all the recovery stretches,” you snap, crossing your arms over your torso at the edge of the bed.
“what did you say?” he asks, feigning ignorance. “that certain positions will help stretch out my hip flexors?”
“i don’t know if you’re remembering it right.”
“oh, i definitely am.”
“you definitely aren’t.”
“well, why don’t we test it out, anyway?”
“why don’t you elevate that leg of yours before i let dr. kim know you’re not following what you’re supposed to do?”
“yes, ma’am.” without another word, yunho beams at you as you shove a pillow beneath his ankle and pulls you back into his embrace.
Dokyeom is so fine 😍😍
the space between us three (jyh) | thirteen.
⇢series masterlist | series playlist
⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.
⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader
⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut
⇢word count: 6.9k
⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, reconciliations, some kissing lol, dinner at auntie love and uncle po's!, yunho being affectionate and a lil simp 😚, seora our bby girl!! you'll see her opening up a bit more, she hits a big milestone in her life and leans on oc for it 🤍
a/n: 'ello! thank you again for waiting <33 you already know how much i appreciate your patience and you sticking by my side despite my inconsistency. ilyyyy !! be back soon w/ ch. 14!
"Hey, Yunho and Seora!" Your dad says, swinging the door open to hug the father and daughter pair, letting them into the house. You and Wonwoo smile, greeting them in your own ways as they make their way into the house. Yunho gives you a subtle kiss to the top of the head as he pulls you in for a hug, gently squeezing your arm as if he wished he could do more to show you just how excited he was to see you.
Like he wanted to pull you closer, and closer— until he couldn't tell where he ends and you begin.
"Hey." You greet him softly, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks as you pull away. "Hey Seora."
"Hi." She greets you shyly, holding a plate saran-wrapped in her hands. "I made some brown butter white chocolate matcha cookies." She holds out the plate.
"Oh!" You look at the tray with wide eyes. "You made that? By yourself?" She nods.
"With the help of Youtube." Seora purses her lips together cutely. "You think that giant knows how to bake?" She mutters under her breath.
"Hey." Yunho turns to shoot her a look before walking over to your mom to greet her.
"It looks amazing, thank you, Seora. I'll take it to the kitchen so we can have it for dessert later." You chuckle, taking the plate from her hands to set it down on the kitchen counter. Seora greets your brother and father in return, then turns to greet your mother and asks how she's doing— sitting next to her and listening in on the conversation going on with her father.
"You've been feeling okay?" Yunho asks your mother, glad that she's looking better today. You can tell she's still exhausted from the past days, but she's got more energy to her— more life.
"Better, yes. Way better."
"That's good. You should be taking it easy, Auntie Love."
"I am. I will from here on out." She looks at her husband, her kids— all working together to make this dinner seamless tonight. They've been doing everything they can to make sure she doesn't lift a finger for awhile, focusing on her full recovery and maintaining her good health for the long run. She then turns to Yunho and Seora, smiling at the 11 ½ year old sitting prettily next to him with her hair in cute, low braids. She knows it hasn't been long since she met the pair, but Seora's growing quickly. Sooner or later, she'll be off to high school. Then, college.
Yunho will be seeing his daughter off.
And she wants him to have someone by his side throughout all of this. She wants Seora to feel the support of both a mother and a father throughout these huge upcoming milestones in her life. Because with the highs come the lows, and there will be days she'll need Yunho the most.
Then, there will be days she'll need a mother's love the most. Or, both. Sometimes, you need both.
"You look so pretty today, Seora. Your braids. Did you do them yourself?"
"Thank you." She laughs. "Yes, I taught myself by watching a video. It was hard."
"That's good." Your mom laughs. "That's good on you for teaching yourself. How's school and basketball?"
"Good." She smiles.
"It's someone's birthday coming up soon." Yunho gently nudges his daughter with a little smirk.
"Oh, yeah? And what is this soon-to-be 12 year old going to be doing for her birthday?"
"I'm not sure yet. Invite my friends for mini golf or bowling and the movies?"
"Do you have a special outfit?"
"Not yet. I have to go shopping for it. Maybe with my bestfriend if she's free."
"Make your dad go on a shopping date with you."
"He won't know what's cute, though. Every time we go shopping he just says yes, which I guess isn't necessarily a bad thing in my case." Seora looks at her dad.
"Excuse me? I can be helpful. I know what's trendy."
"Mm." She hums. "I beg to differ." She says softly, making your mother laugh. Seora's eyes then shift in your direction, causing Yunho to raise his eyebrow at the way she focuses on you. He tries to read her expression, wonders what's going through her mind right now.
Was this the look of longing? For a mother's love, support?
It's not lost on your mother, either. She catches the way Seora doesn't say anything else— her eyes glued to you before she looks down at her feet. Nibbling at her bottom lip as if she doesn’t know what to do with the thoughts swirling in her head all at once. Kicking at the rug beneath her as a way to distract herself momentarily.
—FLASHBACK
As you sat in the chair next to your mother's bed scrolling through your phone, eyes feeling heavy and droopy, you hear small whimpers coming from your mom as she begins to slowly wake up. It jolts you back wide awake, causing you to sit up and examine her closely.
"Mom." You say softly, brushing her away from her face. "Mom, it's me. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just feeling a bit of a headache."
"Let me call the nurse so they can come check on you and give you some water, okay?" I say, pressing the call button near her bed. "I should call dad and Wonwoo, they're in the cafeteria eating—"
"No, not yet. Let's just .. give them a minute." I say, about to pick up my phone before she gently raises her hand to stop me.
"You sure?" She nods, smiling weakly.
"Let them eat."
"Okay."
"Besides, I want to talk to you more than those knuckleheads." You chuckle and take her hand in yours, rubbing it to keep it warm.
"Ma, I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so, so sorry." You apologize quietly, eyes stinging from the tears that are threatening to spill. "I didn't mean to—"
"No." Your mom says, shaking her head. "I should be the one apologizing, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong." She gives you a tiny, pursed smile, apologetic through her expression, her eyes. Her touch. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. I shouldn't have made you feel like that. Like you didn't know anything about taking care of a family, like you weren't capable." She sighs. "I was wrong. I was wrong about it all."
"Ma."
"Listen." She shakes her head again. "You didn't deserve that from me." She lays her head back down on the pillow comfortably, her thumb now rubbing over the surface of your hand. "I know the kind of man Yunho is, and I know he'll adore you and cherish you. And I know you have the biggest heart to love both him and Seora. It'll be an adjustment, but I know you'll take your time to learn them and to learn how to love them. To understand them, to grow with them. You'll never push and you'll ease yourself into place. Because you will fall into place with them. You will. You fit into their puzzle." She smiles, giving you a tiny chuckle.
"Thank you, mom. It means alot to hear that coming from you." You nod. "I'm scared. I really am. I know it's alot for Seora already, and I know it'll take time for her to adjust. I just wanna be good for her and it's terrifying. It's the scariest part of this whole thing because god, I just wanna be good for her."
"You will be, sweetheart. You will. You'll be amazing with her. As with anything in life, there will be the highs and lows, but as long as you make it through together, that's all that matters." You smile at her, wiping at the tears slowly streaming down your cheeks. "She will open her heart to you in time. The best thing you can do is let her do it naturally. Organically. Let her unfold in her own time, and she'll see the good in you. I'm sure she already does, but let her come to you when she's ready."
"You're right."
"Oh." Your mother slowly reaches over to wipes at a straggler at your cheek, smiling. "I'm happy you found them, Y/N. I really am. And I'm happy they found you. I can tell you two make each other happy. I know you were always so insistent that you didn't need someone to take care of you, but it makes me feel good knowing Yunho's by your side."
"Well, I still don't." You tease, chuckling with her.
"Don't get me wrong. I know you're strong, and I've always been proud of how independent you are. But, truly, it's a parent's wish and it runs deeper than that. All I've ever wanted was for someone to love you, to cherish you like the queenthat you are. The queen that I've seen you evolve into beautifully." She says, close to a whisper. "I don't want to leave this Earth worrying you'll be alone, even though I know you'd be okay. I want to be able to rest peacefully knowing you'll be taken care of well, and I know Yunho can be that man for you." You rest your head against her lap, taking in her words— shifting your mentality about everything that she's ever said or 'nagged' you about. Your mother worried about you, despite knowing your brother was by your side, too. She wasn't necessarily saying it wasn't okay, and she wasn't necessarily saying you wouldn't survive alone. She knew you would. But as with time moving faster, parents getting older— it's hard to accept the fact that you'll have to leave your children behind. How could you? How do you prepare for that?
You can't.
It's not an easy transition.
Who would help take care of you and Wonwoo when they leave? It's a deep fear of leaving you two alone, a desire to ensure you two would be continued to be cared for, loved for and happy once they were no longer around.
It's like that final guarantee of security and care for them.
"You don't need it, but you deserve it." She adds. "You deserved to be cared for, to be loved, to be adored. You deserve it all. Nothing less."
"I love you." You simply tell her.
"I love you, too."
"Ma! You're awake!" Wonwoo walks in with a smile on his face before shifting his attention to you. "Why didn't you call?"
"I couldn't get a minute with mom?" You raise your eyebrow at your brother.
"I told her not to call you two." Your mom adds, her head still resting comfortably on the pillow as your dad comes in with a full pitcher of water for her.
"Ouch." Wonwoo adds. "But you tell me all the time that I'm your favorite—"
"Get out!" You throw the pillow sitting on the couch nearby.
"Hey, they're going to kick us out of here. Stop it." Your dad scolds you two, making you, Wonwoo and your mom laugh as he picks up the pillow and sets it back onto the couch just as the nurse checks in.
When you get home that night, you quickly take a shower and throw on your pajamas. You slip into your sheets, turning on your lamp and candle warmer on your nightstand before taking your phone and dialing Yunho's number. It's late, but you know Yunho's still awake— either lying in bed or playing some kind of game until he gets incredibly drowsy. The phone doesn't ring for long until you hear his deep, gruff voice on the other line, making you smile.
"Hey, cutie. You doing okay?"
"Hey Yu. Sorry to be calling you a bit late. I'm doing okay, just .. got home from the hospital, but wanted to update you."
"It's okay. You know I don't mind. How's your mom doing?"
"She's good, feeling okay. We, uh, had a really good talk."
"Oh yeah?" Yunho responds, curious about this topic. "What was this talk about?"
"I dunno, just everything. Our fight. Us. You and Seora."
"Mm." He hums.
"it ended really well, and I feel so much better that we're not on different pages about it anymore. I tried to apologized to her at first for being so angry and for harboring all this negativity towards her after that fight, but, she stopped me. Told me I had nothing to apologize for and that I did nothing wrong." I pause. "Then, she apologized for assuming that I wouldn't be able to handle this responsibility. For not being able to take this on, for assuming I wouldn't be right for you, for Seora. She basically apologized for trying to decide what was right for my life when she just wanted me to be happy. That I didn't deserve all the stuff she threw at me. And—" You pause. "She said she could tell how happy we made each other. And that she knew I'd be more than amazing with Seora. She was happy we found eaach other, and thought that I fit into your puzzle."
"I agree with her, baby." Yunho says softly. "I know it's probably still overwhelming for Seora and you know, we probably still need to take our time to figure this out with her. But, I know you'd be great for her. You'd be what she needs, just like you're what I need." Yunho can't help but bite at his bottom lip to prevent the stupid little smirk creeping up on his face. What a fucking simp, he thinks. How dare that shit come out of his own mouth?
"And what exactly is that need, Jeong Yunho?" You chuckle, fiddling with the threads of your sheets. He pauses for a moment, lets out a deep breath. He's not really sure how to put it into one word because truly, he could be cliché and say 'everything.' He could say 'home.' But, at the same time, those words just don't sound .. enough.
So, instead, he settles for—
"My anchor."
—END
After a few more minutes of sitting in silence, Seora suddenly rises to her feet and looks at her dad and your mother, politely excusing herself from the rest of their conversation especially now that her dad was starting to tap into his silly side. Releasing the dad jokes from the vault.
"Mm, is it okay if I go help in the kitchen?" Seora rubs her hands down her jeans.
"Oh, sure, dear. That's very sweet of you. I'm sure Y/N could use the help." Seora gives your mother a small, toothless smile before turning on her heels and heading straight into the kitchen. She stands at the doorway for a second, taking a deep breath as she gains the courage to speak up. She knows she hasn't been the best towards you, and she knows she's guilty of judging you right off the bat when you deserved better treatment from her. She was quick to assume, but she let her anger get in the way.
She let her feelings get in the way.
But, she couldn't help it. This was all so new to her. It was overwhelming.
It still is, but it doesn't mean that she won't try. Not after she saw the love pouring from her dad's eyes the other night.
"Can I help?" Seora asks, coming into the kitchen as you prepare banchan for dinner, setting aside small plates enough to cover the entire group.
"Thank you, Seora. I think I've got it."
"I'm happy to help." She takes a small step forward. "Besides, I don't really wanna sit next to my dad and listen to him make dad jokes right now." She makes a face. You give her a small chuckle, making room for her next to you at the counter.
"I can't argue with that actually." She giggles, coming next to you. "How's school and basketball been?"
"Good. School is school. The court is the court." You smile.
"Your dad says you work really hard both in school and on the court."
"I try to. I just want to make my dad happy." She has a focused expression on her face as she neatly and carefully places some of the kimchi on the small plate.
"You always do."
"Sometimes. Sometimes we fight, too."
"It's normal."
"But, I like seeing my dad happy the most. I don't like it when we fight. I avoid it." You nod.
"You're very sweet, Seora. I know your dad adores you just as much as you do." She chuckles a bit before focusing on the rest of the banchan. There is a silence that falls between you two, and it's obvious Seora wants to say more, but she just doesn't know what or how [most importantly].
It's a comfortable silence, though.
After a few minutes of silent preparation, Seora helps you bring the dishes over to the table. Yunho is chatting it up with your mom and dad, while Wonwoo finally gets up to help you two with the rest of dinner prep.
"Hey, need help with anything else?" Yunho asks.
"No, don't worry about it. Seora was a big help." You look at her with a small smile that she reciprocates.
"Oh? Thanks, ace."
"Yup. Beats sitting here listening to your dad jokes." She says, making you snort.
"My jokes aren't bad." Yunho cocks a brow up as you laugh, gently caressing his arm before you take a seat at the table. You take your place next to Seora, who sits in between you and her father.
"Did you cook most of the food?" Seora looks at you with a smile.
"Not most, but some. Wonwoo helped. He's not useless, believe it or not." She chuckles, helping pass the food around.
"It smells really good. My stomach is growling." She says. "Can you please hand me the plate of galbi?" You nod, carefully handing her the plate. She helps herself to a serving, placing it on her plate before looking at you. "Would you like some?" You give her a small smile and nod.
"Yes, please." She places a few pieces on your plate before handing the serving plate to her father.
"You're not gonna ask me if I want some?"
"Here. Here's the plate." She says, edging the plate towards him.
"I'll remember that the next time you need some stationary supplies." Seora chuckles before placing some on her father's plate.
"I'm kidding. Here, daddy."
"Mhm." He playfully [and gently] nudges his chin against the top of her head, making her giggle. The rest of dinner goes by successfully, with everyone engaging in conversation about everything— life, plans for your parents, Seora's birthday and potential birthday ideas, Wonwoo's work. Yunho and Wonwoo somehow segway into the topic of games, Valorant and all that glory, while you and Seora talk more about her upcoming playoff games and shopping for her birthday.
"These outfits are kinda like my inspo." She pauses. "Is it okay if I take out my phone at the table to show you?" She looks at her dad, who gives her a small nod. Then, she looks at you; waiting for your permission.
"It's okay." You nod. "Show me."
"Look." She pulls out her phone and shows you a few outfits saved to her pinterest folder. "I just don't know what exactly, or how to put this together. I can't even ask dad because he'll just say they all look good and that it won't matter." She sighs. "Then, Chan-mi has a different style than I do. She'll also tell me it all looks cute and that I should just go with whatever my heart desires." You chuckle.
"Well, they are cute oufits."
"You dress nicely." She looks at your outfit. "How do you think I should dress for my birthday? Do you think I can come up with something that fits this vibe?"
"Yeah, of course. Why not? You can probably do a skirt and a top. Some platform boots." She gasps a bit, taking notes on her phone.
"You're right! That's so cute."
"Or, you can even wear baggy pants with it and it'll still look cute. Add a jacket or cardigan." She continues to take notes before she looks up at you and eats.
"Y/N, I need to go shopping with you."
"You wanna go shopping with me?"
"Yes. I have to." You look at her before briefly looking at Yunho. He smiles at both of you, his heart swelling at the two of you interacting most of the night. He can barely even get a word in with his own daughter, but that's okay with him— as long as she's happily occupied.
"I'm happy to take you shopping. As long as your dad is okay with it." Seora looks at him, feeling a bit bad for leaving her dad out.
"Daddy, you can come along. But, like, just sit and let us do our thing. Like you usually do with Uncle Mingi."
"Oh, okay. Sit and let you guys do your thing." He mocks his daughter, making Seora nudge him on the side gently.
"Your dad can buy us the clothes we need and feed us when we get hungry. Take us wherever we need to go." He raises a brow at you.
"When did my name change to personal ATM?"
"Tonight." You and Seora say at the same time. The both of you look at each other before giggling.
"It's not gonna be easy with you two, is it?"
"No." The both of you respond again as you eat away at your plates.
"It's fine, as long as the ladies are happy."
"My dad is a good man, isn't he?" Seora says to you, laughing.
Once everyone has consumed all of the main entrees on the table, along with the banchan, you head to the kitchen to grab Seora's cookies— placing it in the middle of the table for everyone to grab as dessert.
"Taste one of my cookies and let me know, please. I tried really, really hard to perfect the recipe."
"It tastes amazing, Seora. You made these beautifully. I might have to ask you to bake some more." You laugh, eating more of the cookie and finding yourself easily getting addicted to her cookies already.
"You mean that?"
"I'd pay for these."
"I would, too!" Wonwoo adds, making her eyes light up.
"Oh, I'm making another batch ASAP." The table laughs as she turns to her dad. "Did you hear that, daddy? They said they'd pay for these. My cookies were a hit!"
"Yeah, they were. Good job, ace. I knew you could do it."
"Maybe I should start a business with these." Yunho laughs.
"Let me figure out the logistics first." She nods, turning her attention back towards you to talk more fashion. This time, nails and hair— which, slightly worries Yunho because what do you mean she's now worried about making her nails pretty and eventually wanting to dye her hair? Seora looked like she was happy to have spent some time out of the house at this dinner— just to take a break from school, basketball, friends. She genuinely seemed happy; especially, happy she could finally open herself up to you. Slowly.
Maybe, that look on her face meant she was longing for that love, that support after all.
The next day, Yunho is alarmed when he doesn't hear Seora up and getting ready for school. He's moving about in the kitchen, dressed for work like any typical weekday. He pours her cereal into her bowl, peering over his shoulder to look at her door.
Maybe she was just taking extra time to get ready this morning?
Maybe she accidentally overslept?
"Seora." He calls her name. Gives it a second. Packs her lunch bag with a few more goodies, leaves a note in there just to remind her how much he loves her.
'Didn't forget to pack an extra bag of these snacks this time. Love you.'
He sets her bag aside before he starts working on his coffee, pouring it into his traveler's cup. He's damn near ready to hop out the door except he's missing the most important part of today's agenda—
"Jeong Seora!" He calls out. Still no answer.
Now, he knows something certainly isn't right, and he feels it in the pit of his stomach. He sets his things aside, pacing over to her room. He leans towards the door, listening for a bit before giving the surface a few soft knocks. "Seora, baby girl. Are you alright?"
"Mm'fine." He barely hears behind the door. And she doesn't sound fine.
"You don't sound fine. Can I come in?" No response. No protest. So, Yunho takes it as his sign to come in. He turns the knob and gently pushes the door open, seeing her still tucked in bed— her head barely above the covers. "Hey, what's wrong?" Yunho comes to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Feeling sick?" She shakes her head.
"No. Worse."
"What is it? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?" Yunho panics a bit. But, Seora pokes her head above the covers, her eyes landing on her father's. He can tell she's worried, or maybe she just doesn't know how to say it. "Tell me." He says, wanting to know how to act.
"I got my period. I-I got it all over the sheets, dad. I'm—" She pauses, no longer making eye contact. "Can we just not right now? Please."
"O-oh." Yunho stutters, swallowing the lump in his throat. Fuck, he thinks. Not this. How the fuck is he gonna handle this? "But, we need to take care of this. We need to get you comfortable."
"I don't know what to say." She says, but Yunho knows she basically means 'I don't know how to talk to you about this.' He's feeling a variety of things right now— he's relieved it's not serious in a way that he doesn't have to rush her to the nearest ER and panic about her being in excruciating pain or anything like that. But, he's also terrified, worried. Because he doesn't exactly know how she's feeling. If she's cramping badly, how heavy her period is, where to even start. He's just lost. He feels awful that he doesn't really know what to do. Eunha never went over these things because well, they weren't necessarily planning on losing her.
He's probably done a run for Eunha once or twice, but that was years ago. He can barely remember the brand, the specifics.
Jesus Christ.
He's never felt so useless as a father until now.
"Ace, what are you feeling, hm?" Yunho hums, brushing her hair back as he feels her forehead. "What can I do for you? I-I know I'm your dad and I don't know anything about this, but I'll do anything to make you feel better. Tell me what you need." Seora doesn't respond. She's probably just as frightened as Yunho, definitely way more frightened having to be in this position. "Huh, baby girl? What do you need?"
"I want Y/N. I wanna talk to her about it. I want her."
"Y-you want Y/N?"
"Yes, daddy. Please."
"Okay, okay. Let me call her." Yunho stands and immediately calls you, pressing the phone to his ear while he paces around in the hallway.
"Hello?" He smiles a bit hearing your voice. You're just gathering your own coffee in the kitchen, walking over to your desk at home.
"Hey baby, uh, sorry. Are you in office today?" His voice is low, in case you are in office and need to step away.
"No, I'm actually working from home. What's up?"
"Oh, thank god." Yunho lets out a breath of relief. "Do you think you can swing by in a bit? No rush or whatever, but Seora.." His voice tapers off.
"What's wrong? Is Seora okay?" At this point, you were already getting into your coat and uggs, not really caring if you looked like a hot mess. All you cared about was being there for Seora.
"Yeah, but she.. uh, she got her period." Yunho can barely even say out loud as her father. He runs his hand through his hair, trying his best not to freak out about this milestone his daughter is experiencing that he has no idea how to handle. How to navigate.
Don't pads come in different sizes?
Right? Why do they show the different size diagrams in the bottom left corner with numbers 1-5 sometimes, then?
"I'm on my way. For now, please do me a favor and make her a hot cup of chamomile tea until I get there. You have some, right?"
"Okay. Yeah. That I can for sure do."
"Thank you." And with that, the call ends and Yunho gives Seora a reassuring smile.
"She's on her way, ace. Sit tight. She told me to make you some tea, so I'll be right back, okay?" Seora nods, her eyes shutting as she tries to focus on anything else but the cramps. She feels like she's in and out of drowsiness, trying everything to navigate through this new feeling, this new phase in her life. Is it always going to feel this way? Will it eventually get better?
Will she always have someone to lean on?
Like you?
Her cramps don't feel awful, thankfully. But, it is uncomfortable. She's never felt anything like it before, and she's not sure if she'll ever get used to it. What if it just gets worse as she gets older? Seora just digs her head into her pillow, trying to focus on her breathing as she waits patiently for her tea and for you to come soothe her.
Meanwhile, you stop by the store to grab her a good amount of pads— some thick daytime pads and overnight pads. You grab a weighted plushie that has a removable pouch inside that you can heat up; something you'll know she'll appreciate as she tries to get used to her cramps and having to manage this monthly ordeal moving forward. You find some other little goodies to help cheer her up, little self-care things she can do in between to make herself feel better. When you finish getting her care package together, you rush [safely] over to Yunho's house. You already told your boss you'd need to take an hour or so off this morning to take care of some personal appointments and she was totally fine with it, knowing you barely took time off anyway.
As soon as you pull up and park at Yunho's house, you find your dad watering the plants outside in the front yard. He's a little surprised to see you at their house this early, still waving you over with a brow up.
"What're you doing here so early? Don't you usually work too much?" You snort, showing him the bag of goodies for Seora.
"Seora got her period today and she asked Yunho to call me over."
"Oh, really? That's sweet that she asked for you." Your dad chuckles. "You go take care of that, then. Tell them I said hello."
"Where's mom?"
"Sleep." You nod before giving him a hug and a quick kiss to the cheek. You hop up the steps and ring the doorbell, seeing Yunho still in his work attire.
"Hey." You smile.
"Hey." He smiles, letting you inside. He gives you some space to kick off your shoes before pulling you into a hug and kissing you on the forehead. "Thank you for coming by on short notice. She insisted on calling you."
"No worries. I already told my boss I'd be out for about an hour or two this morning, and she was totally fine." You raise the bag. "I come to the rescue."
"She's in her room." You nod, giving Yunho a kiss on the cheek before padding over to Seora's room. You give her door soft knocks before poking your head in, announcing your presence.
"Seora?"
"I'm here." She pokes her head above her sheets, the hot tea sitting on her nightstand.
"Hey." You shut her door. "How are you feeling?"
"Crappy. Is this really how it feels?"
"Just in the beginning." You sit on the edge of her bed and give her a small smile. "You're a strong girl. Whatever you feel now, will be nothing soon." She returns your small smile, already feeling better seeing that you're not panicking or anxious.
You start showing her the goodies you bought her, walking her through the different pads you bought her and how to put them on. You show her the weighted plushie whenever she needs some comfort, and you show her the self-care goodies whenever she needs some cheering up. Or, if she just feels the need to do some self-care [which, you encourage]. She sits up, telling you she appreciates it while giving you a hug. But, when she pulls back, you can tell she's still shy and embarrassed about it.
"What else is bothering you, Seora? I can tell something else is on your mind."
"I just, um—" She pauses, looking at you while fiddling with her fingers. "I don't wanna get out of bed because I bled a lot. I leaked everywhere. It's all over my pajamas and sheets."
"That's okay. It happened to me, too. And it'll happen. It's normal, okay? That's nothing to be ashamed of." You look at her reassuringly. "Come on. I'll grab you a towel to wrap around your waist so you can go to the bathroom and shower. I'll throw your sheets and pajamas into the wash for you."
"You will?"
"Of course. Then, you can relax for the rest of the day, okay? I'll make sure your dad cooks you some good comfort food." You stand, leaving her room to grab her towel from the bathroom. Yunho's nosey ass peeks over from the kitchen, wondering what you and Seora are up to. Eventually, he sees Seora emerge from the room with the towel wrapped her waist— new pajamas in hand. Once she shuts the door and turns the shower on, he sees you with her sheets folded up in your arms.
"Where's your washer?"
"I can take it—"
"No, Yunho. Where is it?" You ask sternly.
"Well, damn. It's right there." He gives you a look while pointing down the hall. You laugh a bit, throwing Seora's sheets into the washer, throwing the detergent and softener in as you normally would.
"Sorry, love."
"Why couldn't I do it?"
"Because it's a sensitive moment right now."
"I can be sensitive."
"No one said you couldn't be." You turn with a laugh. "But, you can help once this is done and toss it in the dryer. Fix it back up on her bed."
"Okay. Done. But, why didn't she wanna talk to me about this?"
"You're her father, Yunho. I'm sorry but at her age especially, she'll be too shy to talk to you about these things." You tease and he rolls his eyes. "Anyway, she should be good. I gave her enough pads for awhile, but you might wanna grab some more at the store at some point. You can buy the same exact ones I bought. And maybe some chocolate, ice cream. Make her some good comfort food. Otherwise, give her some space to breathe, yeah? I'll get going."
"Thank you, baby." Yunho says softly as he digs his hands in his pockets.
"You're welcome. And make sure to tend to her when she needs you, okay? As soon as I find out that you aren't or that you aren't quick enough—" Yunho laughs.
"Got it, got it. Sheesh." He jokes, making you laugh. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you, giving you a light kiss to the temple. "What would I do without you? Hm?" He hums near your ear.
"You'd do a lot, Yu. You already do. You're her superman." You give him a small wink. "See you tomorrow?"
"Uh, trying to leave? Aren't you missing something?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Seriously?" He turns you around, pressing your body flush against his. "Trying to act like you don't know?" He brushes your hair back, eyeing your features— those features that he adores so, so much. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, smiling up at him. Luckily, Seora was still in the shower, easing your nerves that she'd walk out and catch you two being all flirty and handsy. The last thing you wanted to do was set back your progress with her because you were jumping forward with her father, assuming she'd be okay with it just because she was starting to open up with you.
"You're too much."
"I like to think I'm just enough." Yunho makes a face, causing you to giggle. "I'm waiting." He teases, looking down at you. You finally tippy-toe to kiss him on the lips, and he keeps you there for awhile— not wanting you to pull back. His hands roam up to cup your cheeks, slightly deepening the kiss. It's slow, it's deep; his tongue tangling with yours. He nips at your bottom lip, diving in for another sweet kiss until you both hear the shower turn off.
"Mm. Well." You giggle.
"Wish you could just stay here with me." He says, close to a whisper, his thumb caressing your chin.
"One day." You respond. "Call me if you guys need anything else, okay?" He nods, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before letting you go to slip into your shoes. He watches as you shut the door and head down the steps— taking a quick turn towards your parents' house to check on them one last time before leaving.
"Y/N left?"
"Yeah, she has to go back to work, baby girl." Seora sighs and nods. At this point, the washer starts the tune to signal that it has finished its cycle. Yunho walks over to throw Seora's sheets into the dryer, heading back towards the living room where Seora is bundled up in a blanket burrito on the couch.
"Chan-mi said she'll stop by to drop off some stuff for homework later. And a care package, apparently." Yunho chuckles.
"Okay." Yunho already called into work and sends a slack message to his team— giving them a quick run down of priorities that need to be done today. "Well, I'm going to grab some groceries to make you some good ol' comfort food for dinner. Do you want me to grab you anything while I'm out? For lunch? Anything you like."
"Hm. I'm craving a burger to be honest. Like a good, juicy burger with some cheesy fries."
"Alright. Text me the place once you decide."
"Yippee." She says, somewhat excited, but also exhausted. "Thank you." She turns on the TV and flips through Netflix. Yunho grabs his keys and wallet, doing the men's pat down that usually happens before leaving the house. "And .. daddy."
"Yeah, baby girl?" Yunho turns towards her just as he's about to walk out the door.
"Take her out on a proper date, please. I don't want this to go bad." He snorts.
"How can this go bad?"
"Just say you'll take her on a proper date. Please." Yunho cocks a brow up at his daughter before chuckling and nodding.
"Yeah, smartypants. I'll take her out on a proper date and I won't mess this up, okay? Happy?"
"Run the date with me before you execute."
"I don't think so, young lady."
"Why not!"
"That's only for your old giant to know."
"I need to make sure it's perfect!"
"You don't think I can execute a good date?"
"It's not even that. I know you can do it. I just want to make sure the details are where we need them to be. Like, the places are cute. The outfit is perfect. The flowers are the right color scheme. Cologne smells great. Restaurant has 3 dollar signs—"
"Jeeesus, 3 dollar signs? Tough crowd." He jokes, even though he knows you're more than worth it.
"I'll throw my pack of pads at you, seriously. Don't ever joke like that ever again, dad." Yunho laughs at the way she knits her brows at him from the couch, buried under her blankets.
"I'm seriously just kidding, ace. I don't mean it, you know that. I promise. I won't mess this up. I'll do my best and more. She's worth it." Seora smiles.
"Good. Because I don't wanna lose her either."
⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x @honeyhotteoks @woovalin @piecessoull @prodsh00ky @seesawsaredangerous @prettypeachprincesz @side-angel @binniewalrus @soupbinlily @junniesoleilkth
the space between us three (jyh) | thirteen.
⇢series masterlist | series playlist
⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.
⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader
⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut
⇢word count: 6.9k
⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, reconciliations, some kissing lol, dinner at auntie love and uncle po's!, yunho being affectionate and a lil simp 😚, seora our bby girl!! you'll see her opening up a bit more, she hits a big milestone in her life and leans on oc for it 🤍
a/n: 'ello! thank you again for waiting <33 you already know how much i appreciate your patience and you sticking by my side despite my inconsistency. ilyyyy !! be back soon w/ ch. 14!
"Hey, Yunho and Seora!" Your dad says, swinging the door open to hug the father and daughter pair, letting them into the house. You and Wonwoo smile, greeting them in your own ways as they make their way into the house. Yunho gives you a subtle kiss to the top of the head as he pulls you in for a hug, gently squeezing your arm as if he wished he could do more to show you just how excited he was to see you.
Like he wanted to pull you closer, and closer— until he couldn't tell where he ends and you begin.
"Hey." You greet him softly, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks as you pull away. "Hey Seora."
"Hi." She greets you shyly, holding a plate saran-wrapped in her hands. "I made some brown butter white chocolate matcha cookies." She holds out the plate.
"Oh!" You look at the tray with wide eyes. "You made that? By yourself?" She nods.
"With the help of Youtube." Seora purses her lips together cutely. "You think that giant knows how to bake?" She mutters under her breath.
"Hey." Yunho turns to shoot her a look before walking over to your mom to greet her.
"It looks amazing, thank you, Seora. I'll take it to the kitchen so we can have it for dessert later." You chuckle, taking the plate from her hands to set it down on the kitchen counter. Seora greets your brother and father in return, then turns to greet your mother and asks how she's doing— sitting next to her and listening in on the conversation going on with her father.
"You've been feeling okay?" Yunho asks your mother, glad that she's looking better today. You can tell she's still exhausted from the past days, but she's got more energy to her— more life.
"Better, yes. Way better."
"That's good. You should be taking it easy, Auntie Love."
"I am. I will from here on out." She looks at her husband, her kids— all working together to make this dinner seamless tonight. They've been doing everything they can to make sure she doesn't lift a finger for awhile, focusing on her full recovery and maintaining her good health for the long run. She then turns to Yunho and Seora, smiling at the 11 ½ year old sitting prettily next to him with her hair in cute, low braids. She knows it hasn't been long since she met the pair, but Seora's growing quickly. Sooner or later, she'll be off to high school. Then, college.
Yunho will be seeing his daughter off.
And she wants him to have someone by his side throughout all of this. She wants Seora to feel the support of both a mother and a father throughout these huge upcoming milestones in her life. Because with the highs come the lows, and there will be days she'll need Yunho the most.
Then, there will be days she'll need a mother's love the most. Or, both. Sometimes, you need both.
"You look so pretty today, Seora. Your braids. Did you do them yourself?"
"Thank you." She laughs. "Yes, I taught myself by watching a video. It was hard."
"That's good." Your mom laughs. "That's good on you for teaching yourself. How's school and basketball?"
"Good." She smiles.
"It's someone's birthday coming up soon." Yunho gently nudges his daughter with a little smirk.
"Oh, yeah? And what is this soon-to-be 12 year old going to be doing for her birthday?"
"I'm not sure yet. Invite my friends for mini golf or bowling and the movies?"
"Do you have a special outfit?"
"Not yet. I have to go shopping for it. Maybe with my bestfriend if she's free."
"Make your dad go on a shopping date with you."
"He won't know what's cute, though. Every time we go shopping he just says yes, which I guess isn't necessarily a bad thing in my case." Seora looks at her dad.
"Excuse me? I can be helpful. I know what's trendy."
"Mm." She hums. "I beg to differ." She says softly, making your mother laugh. Seora's eyes then shift in your direction, causing Yunho to raise his eyebrow at the way she focuses on you. He tries to read her expression, wonders what's going through her mind right now.
Was this the look of longing? For a mother's love, support?
It's not lost on your mother, either. She catches the way Seora doesn't say anything else— her eyes glued to you before she looks down at her feet. Nibbling at her bottom lip as if she doesn’t know what to do with the thoughts swirling in her head all at once. Kicking at the rug beneath her as a way to distract herself momentarily.
—FLASHBACK
As you sat in the chair next to your mother's bed scrolling through your phone, eyes feeling heavy and droopy, you hear small whimpers coming from your mom as she begins to slowly wake up. It jolts you back wide awake, causing you to sit up and examine her closely.
"Mom." You say softly, brushing her away from her face. "Mom, it's me. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just feeling a bit of a headache."
"Let me call the nurse so they can come check on you and give you some water, okay?" I say, pressing the call button near her bed. "I should call dad and Wonwoo, they're in the cafeteria eating—"
"No, not yet. Let's just .. give them a minute." I say, about to pick up my phone before she gently raises her hand to stop me.
"You sure?" She nods, smiling weakly.
"Let them eat."
"Okay."
"Besides, I want to talk to you more than those knuckleheads." You chuckle and take her hand in yours, rubbing it to keep it warm.
"Ma, I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so, so sorry." You apologize quietly, eyes stinging from the tears that are threatening to spill. "I didn't mean to—"
"No." Your mom says, shaking her head. "I should be the one apologizing, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong." She gives you a tiny, pursed smile, apologetic through her expression, her eyes. Her touch. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. I shouldn't have made you feel like that. Like you didn't know anything about taking care of a family, like you weren't capable." She sighs. "I was wrong. I was wrong about it all."
"Ma."
"Listen." She shakes her head again. "You didn't deserve that from me." She lays her head back down on the pillow comfortably, her thumb now rubbing over the surface of your hand. "I know the kind of man Yunho is, and I know he'll adore you and cherish you. And I know you have the biggest heart to love both him and Seora. It'll be an adjustment, but I know you'll take your time to learn them and to learn how to love them. To understand them, to grow with them. You'll never push and you'll ease yourself into place. Because you will fall into place with them. You will. You fit into their puzzle." She smiles, giving you a tiny chuckle.
"Thank you, mom. It means alot to hear that coming from you." You nod. "I'm scared. I really am. I know it's alot for Seora already, and I know it'll take time for her to adjust. I just wanna be good for her and it's terrifying. It's the scariest part of this whole thing because god, I just wanna be good for her."
"You will be, sweetheart. You will. You'll be amazing with her. As with anything in life, there will be the highs and lows, but as long as you make it through together, that's all that matters." You smile at her, wiping at the tears slowly streaming down your cheeks. "She will open her heart to you in time. The best thing you can do is let her do it naturally. Organically. Let her unfold in her own time, and she'll see the good in you. I'm sure she already does, but let her come to you when she's ready."
"You're right."
"Oh." Your mother slowly reaches over to wipes at a straggler at your cheek, smiling. "I'm happy you found them, Y/N. I really am. And I'm happy they found you. I can tell you two make each other happy. I know you were always so insistent that you didn't need someone to take care of you, but it makes me feel good knowing Yunho's by your side."
"Well, I still don't." You tease, chuckling with her.
"Don't get me wrong. I know you're strong, and I've always been proud of how independent you are. But, truly, it's a parent's wish and it runs deeper than that. All I've ever wanted was for someone to love you, to cherish you like the queenthat you are. The queen that I've seen you evolve into beautifully." She says, close to a whisper. "I don't want to leave this Earth worrying you'll be alone, even though I know you'd be okay. I want to be able to rest peacefully knowing you'll be taken care of well, and I know Yunho can be that man for you." You rest your head against her lap, taking in her words— shifting your mentality about everything that she's ever said or 'nagged' you about. Your mother worried about you, despite knowing your brother was by your side, too. She wasn't necessarily saying it wasn't okay, and she wasn't necessarily saying you wouldn't survive alone. She knew you would. But as with time moving faster, parents getting older— it's hard to accept the fact that you'll have to leave your children behind. How could you? How do you prepare for that?
You can't.
It's not an easy transition.
Who would help take care of you and Wonwoo when they leave? It's a deep fear of leaving you two alone, a desire to ensure you two would be continued to be cared for, loved for and happy once they were no longer around.
It's like that final guarantee of security and care for them.
"You don't need it, but you deserve it." She adds. "You deserved to be cared for, to be loved, to be adored. You deserve it all. Nothing less."
"I love you." You simply tell her.
"I love you, too."
"Ma! You're awake!" Wonwoo walks in with a smile on his face before shifting his attention to you. "Why didn't you call?"
"I couldn't get a minute with mom?" You raise your eyebrow at your brother.
"I told her not to call you two." Your mom adds, her head still resting comfortably on the pillow as your dad comes in with a full pitcher of water for her.
"Ouch." Wonwoo adds. "But you tell me all the time that I'm your favorite—"
"Get out!" You throw the pillow sitting on the couch nearby.
"Hey, they're going to kick us out of here. Stop it." Your dad scolds you two, making you, Wonwoo and your mom laugh as he picks up the pillow and sets it back onto the couch just as the nurse checks in.
When you get home that night, you quickly take a shower and throw on your pajamas. You slip into your sheets, turning on your lamp and candle warmer on your nightstand before taking your phone and dialing Yunho's number. It's late, but you know Yunho's still awake— either lying in bed or playing some kind of game until he gets incredibly drowsy. The phone doesn't ring for long until you hear his deep, gruff voice on the other line, making you smile.
"Hey, cutie. You doing okay?"
"Hey Yu. Sorry to be calling you a bit late. I'm doing okay, just .. got home from the hospital, but wanted to update you."
"It's okay. You know I don't mind. How's your mom doing?"
"She's good, feeling okay. We, uh, had a really good talk."
"Oh yeah?" Yunho responds, curious about this topic. "What was this talk about?"
"I dunno, just everything. Our fight. Us. You and Seora."
"Mm." He hums.
"it ended really well, and I feel so much better that we're not on different pages about it anymore. I tried to apologized to her at first for being so angry and for harboring all this negativity towards her after that fight, but, she stopped me. Told me I had nothing to apologize for and that I did nothing wrong." I pause. "Then, she apologized for assuming that I wouldn't be able to handle this responsibility. For not being able to take this on, for assuming I wouldn't be right for you, for Seora. She basically apologized for trying to decide what was right for my life when she just wanted me to be happy. That I didn't deserve all the stuff she threw at me. And—" You pause. "She said she could tell how happy we made each other. And that she knew I'd be more than amazing with Seora. She was happy we found eaach other, and thought that I fit into your puzzle."
"I agree with her, baby." Yunho says softly. "I know it's probably still overwhelming for Seora and you know, we probably still need to take our time to figure this out with her. But, I know you'd be great for her. You'd be what she needs, just like you're what I need." Yunho can't help but bite at his bottom lip to prevent the stupid little smirk creeping up on his face. What a fucking simp, he thinks. How dare that shit come out of his own mouth?
"And what exactly is that need, Jeong Yunho?" You chuckle, fiddling with the threads of your sheets. He pauses for a moment, lets out a deep breath. He's not really sure how to put it into one word because truly, he could be cliché and say 'everything.' He could say 'home.' But, at the same time, those words just don't sound .. enough.
So, instead, he settles for—
"My anchor."
—END
After a few more minutes of sitting in silence, Seora suddenly rises to her feet and looks at her dad and your mother, politely excusing herself from the rest of their conversation especially now that her dad was starting to tap into his silly side. Releasing the dad jokes from the vault.
"Mm, is it okay if I go help in the kitchen?" Seora rubs her hands down her jeans.
"Oh, sure, dear. That's very sweet of you. I'm sure Y/N could use the help." Seora gives your mother a small, toothless smile before turning on her heels and heading straight into the kitchen. She stands at the doorway for a second, taking a deep breath as she gains the courage to speak up. She knows she hasn't been the best towards you, and she knows she's guilty of judging you right off the bat when you deserved better treatment from her. She was quick to assume, but she let her anger get in the way.
She let her feelings get in the way.
But, she couldn't help it. This was all so new to her. It was overwhelming.
It still is, but it doesn't mean that she won't try. Not after she saw the love pouring from her dad's eyes the other night.
"Can I help?" Seora asks, coming into the kitchen as you prepare banchan for dinner, setting aside small plates enough to cover the entire group.
"Thank you, Seora. I think I've got it."
"I'm happy to help." She takes a small step forward. "Besides, I don't really wanna sit next to my dad and listen to him make dad jokes right now." She makes a face. You give her a small chuckle, making room for her next to you at the counter.
"I can't argue with that actually." She giggles, coming next to you. "How's school and basketball been?"
"Good. School is school. The court is the court." You smile.
"Your dad says you work really hard both in school and on the court."
"I try to. I just want to make my dad happy." She has a focused expression on her face as she neatly and carefully places some of the kimchi on the small plate.
"You always do."
"Sometimes. Sometimes we fight, too."
"It's normal."
"But, I like seeing my dad happy the most. I don't like it when we fight. I avoid it." You nod.
"You're very sweet, Seora. I know your dad adores you just as much as you do." She chuckles a bit before focusing on the rest of the banchan. There is a silence that falls between you two, and it's obvious Seora wants to say more, but she just doesn't know what or how [most importantly].
It's a comfortable silence, though.
After a few minutes of silent preparation, Seora helps you bring the dishes over to the table. Yunho is chatting it up with your mom and dad, while Wonwoo finally gets up to help you two with the rest of dinner prep.
"Hey, need help with anything else?" Yunho asks.
"No, don't worry about it. Seora was a big help." You look at her with a small smile that she reciprocates.
"Oh? Thanks, ace."
"Yup. Beats sitting here listening to your dad jokes." She says, making you snort.
"My jokes aren't bad." Yunho cocks a brow up as you laugh, gently caressing his arm before you take a seat at the table. You take your place next to Seora, who sits in between you and her father.
"Did you cook most of the food?" Seora looks at you with a smile.
"Not most, but some. Wonwoo helped. He's not useless, believe it or not." She chuckles, helping pass the food around.
"It smells really good. My stomach is growling." She says. "Can you please hand me the plate of galbi?" You nod, carefully handing her the plate. She helps herself to a serving, placing it on her plate before looking at you. "Would you like some?" You give her a small smile and nod.
"Yes, please." She places a few pieces on your plate before handing the serving plate to her father.
"You're not gonna ask me if I want some?"
"Here. Here's the plate." She says, edging the plate towards him.
"I'll remember that the next time you need some stationary supplies." Seora chuckles before placing some on her father's plate.
"I'm kidding. Here, daddy."
"Mhm." He playfully [and gently] nudges his chin against the top of her head, making her giggle. The rest of dinner goes by successfully, with everyone engaging in conversation about everything— life, plans for your parents, Seora's birthday and potential birthday ideas, Wonwoo's work. Yunho and Wonwoo somehow segway into the topic of games, Valorant and all that glory, while you and Seora talk more about her upcoming playoff games and shopping for her birthday.
"These outfits are kinda like my inspo." She pauses. "Is it okay if I take out my phone at the table to show you?" She looks at her dad, who gives her a small nod. Then, she looks at you; waiting for your permission.
"It's okay." You nod. "Show me."
"Look." She pulls out her phone and shows you a few outfits saved to her pinterest folder. "I just don't know what exactly, or how to put this together. I can't even ask dad because he'll just say they all look good and that it won't matter." She sighs. "Then, Chan-mi has a different style than I do. She'll also tell me it all looks cute and that I should just go with whatever my heart desires." You chuckle.
"Well, they are cute oufits."
"You dress nicely." She looks at your outfit. "How do you think I should dress for my birthday? Do you think I can come up with something that fits this vibe?"
"Yeah, of course. Why not? You can probably do a skirt and a top. Some platform boots." She gasps a bit, taking notes on her phone.
"You're right! That's so cute."
"Or, you can even wear baggy pants with it and it'll still look cute. Add a jacket or cardigan." She continues to take notes before she looks up at you and eats.
"Y/N, I need to go shopping with you."
"You wanna go shopping with me?"
"Yes. I have to." You look at her before briefly looking at Yunho. He smiles at both of you, his heart swelling at the two of you interacting most of the night. He can barely even get a word in with his own daughter, but that's okay with him— as long as she's happily occupied.
"I'm happy to take you shopping. As long as your dad is okay with it." Seora looks at him, feeling a bit bad for leaving her dad out.
"Daddy, you can come along. But, like, just sit and let us do our thing. Like you usually do with Uncle Mingi."
"Oh, okay. Sit and let you guys do your thing." He mocks his daughter, making Seora nudge him on the side gently.
"Your dad can buy us the clothes we need and feed us when we get hungry. Take us wherever we need to go." He raises a brow at you.
"When did my name change to personal ATM?"
"Tonight." You and Seora say at the same time. The both of you look at each other before giggling.
"It's not gonna be easy with you two, is it?"
"No." The both of you respond again as you eat away at your plates.
"It's fine, as long as the ladies are happy."
"My dad is a good man, isn't he?" Seora says to you, laughing.
Once everyone has consumed all of the main entrees on the table, along with the banchan, you head to the kitchen to grab Seora's cookies— placing it in the middle of the table for everyone to grab as dessert.
"Taste one of my cookies and let me know, please. I tried really, really hard to perfect the recipe."
"It tastes amazing, Seora. You made these beautifully. I might have to ask you to bake some more." You laugh, eating more of the cookie and finding yourself easily getting addicted to her cookies already.
"You mean that?"
"I'd pay for these."
"I would, too!" Wonwoo adds, making her eyes light up.
"Oh, I'm making another batch ASAP." The table laughs as she turns to her dad. "Did you hear that, daddy? They said they'd pay for these. My cookies were a hit!"
"Yeah, they were. Good job, ace. I knew you could do it."
"Maybe I should start a business with these." Yunho laughs.
"Let me figure out the logistics first." She nods, turning her attention back towards you to talk more fashion. This time, nails and hair— which, slightly worries Yunho because what do you mean she's now worried about making her nails pretty and eventually wanting to dye her hair? Seora looked like she was happy to have spent some time out of the house at this dinner— just to take a break from school, basketball, friends. She genuinely seemed happy; especially, happy she could finally open herself up to you. Slowly.
Maybe, that look on her face meant she was longing for that love, that support after all.
The next day, Yunho is alarmed when he doesn't hear Seora up and getting ready for school. He's moving about in the kitchen, dressed for work like any typical weekday. He pours her cereal into her bowl, peering over his shoulder to look at her door.
Maybe she was just taking extra time to get ready this morning?
Maybe she accidentally overslept?
"Seora." He calls her name. Gives it a second. Packs her lunch bag with a few more goodies, leaves a note in there just to remind her how much he loves her.
'Didn't forget to pack an extra bag of these snacks this time. Love you.'
He sets her bag aside before he starts working on his coffee, pouring it into his traveler's cup. He's damn near ready to hop out the door except he's missing the most important part of today's agenda—
"Jeong Seora!" He calls out. Still no answer.
Now, he knows something certainly isn't right, and he feels it in the pit of his stomach. He sets his things aside, pacing over to her room. He leans towards the door, listening for a bit before giving the surface a few soft knocks. "Seora, baby girl. Are you alright?"
"Mm'fine." He barely hears behind the door. And she doesn't sound fine.
"You don't sound fine. Can I come in?" No response. No protest. So, Yunho takes it as his sign to come in. He turns the knob and gently pushes the door open, seeing her still tucked in bed— her head barely above the covers. "Hey, what's wrong?" Yunho comes to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Feeling sick?" She shakes her head.
"No. Worse."
"What is it? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?" Yunho panics a bit. But, Seora pokes her head above the covers, her eyes landing on her father's. He can tell she's worried, or maybe she just doesn't know how to say it. "Tell me." He says, wanting to know how to act.
"I got my period. I-I got it all over the sheets, dad. I'm—" She pauses, no longer making eye contact. "Can we just not right now? Please."
"O-oh." Yunho stutters, swallowing the lump in his throat. Fuck, he thinks. Not this. How the fuck is he gonna handle this? "But, we need to take care of this. We need to get you comfortable."
"I don't know what to say." She says, but Yunho knows she basically means 'I don't know how to talk to you about this.' He's feeling a variety of things right now— he's relieved it's not serious in a way that he doesn't have to rush her to the nearest ER and panic about her being in excruciating pain or anything like that. But, he's also terrified, worried. Because he doesn't exactly know how she's feeling. If she's cramping badly, how heavy her period is, where to even start. He's just lost. He feels awful that he doesn't really know what to do. Eunha never went over these things because well, they weren't necessarily planning on losing her.
He's probably done a run for Eunha once or twice, but that was years ago. He can barely remember the brand, the specifics.
Jesus Christ.
He's never felt so useless as a father until now.
"Ace, what are you feeling, hm?" Yunho hums, brushing her hair back as he feels her forehead. "What can I do for you? I-I know I'm your dad and I don't know anything about this, but I'll do anything to make you feel better. Tell me what you need." Seora doesn't respond. She's probably just as frightened as Yunho, definitely way more frightened having to be in this position. "Huh, baby girl? What do you need?"
"I want Y/N. I wanna talk to her about it. I want her."
"Y-you want Y/N?"
"Yes, daddy. Please."
"Okay, okay. Let me call her." Yunho stands and immediately calls you, pressing the phone to his ear while he paces around in the hallway.
"Hello?" He smiles a bit hearing your voice. You're just gathering your own coffee in the kitchen, walking over to your desk at home.
"Hey baby, uh, sorry. Are you in office today?" His voice is low, in case you are in office and need to step away.
"No, I'm actually working from home. What's up?"
"Oh, thank god." Yunho lets out a breath of relief. "Do you think you can swing by in a bit? No rush or whatever, but Seora.." His voice tapers off.
"What's wrong? Is Seora okay?" At this point, you were already getting into your coat and uggs, not really caring if you looked like a hot mess. All you cared about was being there for Seora.
"Yeah, but she.. uh, she got her period." Yunho can barely even say out loud as her father. He runs his hand through his hair, trying his best not to freak out about this milestone his daughter is experiencing that he has no idea how to handle. How to navigate.
Don't pads come in different sizes?
Right? Why do they show the different size diagrams in the bottom left corner with numbers 1-5 sometimes, then?
"I'm on my way. For now, please do me a favor and make her a hot cup of chamomile tea until I get there. You have some, right?"
"Okay. Yeah. That I can for sure do."
"Thank you." And with that, the call ends and Yunho gives Seora a reassuring smile.
"She's on her way, ace. Sit tight. She told me to make you some tea, so I'll be right back, okay?" Seora nods, her eyes shutting as she tries to focus on anything else but the cramps. She feels like she's in and out of drowsiness, trying everything to navigate through this new feeling, this new phase in her life. Is it always going to feel this way? Will it eventually get better?
Will she always have someone to lean on?
Like you?
Her cramps don't feel awful, thankfully. But, it is uncomfortable. She's never felt anything like it before, and she's not sure if she'll ever get used to it. What if it just gets worse as she gets older? Seora just digs her head into her pillow, trying to focus on her breathing as she waits patiently for her tea and for you to come soothe her.
Meanwhile, you stop by the store to grab her a good amount of pads— some thick daytime pads and overnight pads. You grab a weighted plushie that has a removable pouch inside that you can heat up; something you'll know she'll appreciate as she tries to get used to her cramps and having to manage this monthly ordeal moving forward. You find some other little goodies to help cheer her up, little self-care things she can do in between to make herself feel better. When you finish getting her care package together, you rush [safely] over to Yunho's house. You already told your boss you'd need to take an hour or so off this morning to take care of some personal appointments and she was totally fine with it, knowing you barely took time off anyway.
As soon as you pull up and park at Yunho's house, you find your dad watering the plants outside in the front yard. He's a little surprised to see you at their house this early, still waving you over with a brow up.
"What're you doing here so early? Don't you usually work too much?" You snort, showing him the bag of goodies for Seora.
"Seora got her period today and she asked Yunho to call me over."
"Oh, really? That's sweet that she asked for you." Your dad chuckles. "You go take care of that, then. Tell them I said hello."
"Where's mom?"
"Sleep." You nod before giving him a hug and a quick kiss to the cheek. You hop up the steps and ring the doorbell, seeing Yunho still in his work attire.
"Hey." You smile.
"Hey." He smiles, letting you inside. He gives you some space to kick off your shoes before pulling you into a hug and kissing you on the forehead. "Thank you for coming by on short notice. She insisted on calling you."
"No worries. I already told my boss I'd be out for about an hour or two this morning, and she was totally fine." You raise the bag. "I come to the rescue."
"She's in her room." You nod, giving Yunho a kiss on the cheek before padding over to Seora's room. You give her door soft knocks before poking your head in, announcing your presence.
"Seora?"
"I'm here." She pokes her head above her sheets, the hot tea sitting on her nightstand.
"Hey." You shut her door. "How are you feeling?"
"Crappy. Is this really how it feels?"
"Just in the beginning." You sit on the edge of her bed and give her a small smile. "You're a strong girl. Whatever you feel now, will be nothing soon." She returns your small smile, already feeling better seeing that you're not panicking or anxious.
You start showing her the goodies you bought her, walking her through the different pads you bought her and how to put them on. You show her the weighted plushie whenever she needs some comfort, and you show her the self-care goodies whenever she needs some cheering up. Or, if she just feels the need to do some self-care [which, you encourage]. She sits up, telling you she appreciates it while giving you a hug. But, when she pulls back, you can tell she's still shy and embarrassed about it.
"What else is bothering you, Seora? I can tell something else is on your mind."
"I just, um—" She pauses, looking at you while fiddling with her fingers. "I don't wanna get out of bed because I bled a lot. I leaked everywhere. It's all over my pajamas and sheets."
"That's okay. It happened to me, too. And it'll happen. It's normal, okay? That's nothing to be ashamed of." You look at her reassuringly. "Come on. I'll grab you a towel to wrap around your waist so you can go to the bathroom and shower. I'll throw your sheets and pajamas into the wash for you."
"You will?"
"Of course. Then, you can relax for the rest of the day, okay? I'll make sure your dad cooks you some good comfort food." You stand, leaving her room to grab her towel from the bathroom. Yunho's nosey ass peeks over from the kitchen, wondering what you and Seora are up to. Eventually, he sees Seora emerge from the room with the towel wrapped her waist— new pajamas in hand. Once she shuts the door and turns the shower on, he sees you with her sheets folded up in your arms.
"Where's your washer?"
"I can take it—"
"No, Yunho. Where is it?" You ask sternly.
"Well, damn. It's right there." He gives you a look while pointing down the hall. You laugh a bit, throwing Seora's sheets into the washer, throwing the detergent and softener in as you normally would.
"Sorry, love."
"Why couldn't I do it?"
"Because it's a sensitive moment right now."
"I can be sensitive."
"No one said you couldn't be." You turn with a laugh. "But, you can help once this is done and toss it in the dryer. Fix it back up on her bed."
"Okay. Done. But, why didn't she wanna talk to me about this?"
"You're her father, Yunho. I'm sorry but at her age especially, she'll be too shy to talk to you about these things." You tease and he rolls his eyes. "Anyway, she should be good. I gave her enough pads for awhile, but you might wanna grab some more at the store at some point. You can buy the same exact ones I bought. And maybe some chocolate, ice cream. Make her some good comfort food. Otherwise, give her some space to breathe, yeah? I'll get going."
"Thank you, baby." Yunho says softly as he digs his hands in his pockets.
"You're welcome. And make sure to tend to her when she needs you, okay? As soon as I find out that you aren't or that you aren't quick enough—" Yunho laughs.
"Got it, got it. Sheesh." He jokes, making you laugh. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you, giving you a light kiss to the temple. "What would I do without you? Hm?" He hums near your ear.
"You'd do a lot, Yu. You already do. You're her superman." You give him a small wink. "See you tomorrow?"
"Uh, trying to leave? Aren't you missing something?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Seriously?" He turns you around, pressing your body flush against his. "Trying to act like you don't know?" He brushes your hair back, eyeing your features— those features that he adores so, so much. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, smiling up at him. Luckily, Seora was still in the shower, easing your nerves that she'd walk out and catch you two being all flirty and handsy. The last thing you wanted to do was set back your progress with her because you were jumping forward with her father, assuming she'd be okay with it just because she was starting to open up with you.
"You're too much."
"I like to think I'm just enough." Yunho makes a face, causing you to giggle. "I'm waiting." He teases, looking down at you. You finally tippy-toe to kiss him on the lips, and he keeps you there for awhile— not wanting you to pull back. His hands roam up to cup your cheeks, slightly deepening the kiss. It's slow, it's deep; his tongue tangling with yours. He nips at your bottom lip, diving in for another sweet kiss until you both hear the shower turn off.
"Mm. Well." You giggle.
"Wish you could just stay here with me." He says, close to a whisper, his thumb caressing your chin.
"One day." You respond. "Call me if you guys need anything else, okay?" He nods, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before letting you go to slip into your shoes. He watches as you shut the door and head down the steps— taking a quick turn towards your parents' house to check on them one last time before leaving.
"Y/N left?"
"Yeah, she has to go back to work, baby girl." Seora sighs and nods. At this point, the washer starts the tune to signal that it has finished its cycle. Yunho walks over to throw Seora's sheets into the dryer, heading back towards the living room where Seora is bundled up in a blanket burrito on the couch.
"Chan-mi said she'll stop by to drop off some stuff for homework later. And a care package, apparently." Yunho chuckles.
"Okay." Yunho already called into work and sends a slack message to his team— giving them a quick run down of priorities that need to be done today. "Well, I'm going to grab some groceries to make you some good ol' comfort food for dinner. Do you want me to grab you anything while I'm out? For lunch? Anything you like."
"Hm. I'm craving a burger to be honest. Like a good, juicy burger with some cheesy fries."
"Alright. Text me the place once you decide."
"Yippee." She says, somewhat excited, but also exhausted. "Thank you." She turns on the TV and flips through Netflix. Yunho grabs his keys and wallet, doing the men's pat down that usually happens before leaving the house. "And .. daddy."
"Yeah, baby girl?" Yunho turns towards her just as he's about to walk out the door.
"Take her out on a proper date, please. I don't want this to go bad." He snorts.
"How can this go bad?"
"Just say you'll take her on a proper date. Please." Yunho cocks a brow up at his daughter before chuckling and nodding.
"Yeah, smartypants. I'll take her out on a proper date and I won't mess this up, okay? Happy?"
"Run the date with me before you execute."
"I don't think so, young lady."
"Why not!"
"That's only for your old giant to know."
"I need to make sure it's perfect!"
"You don't think I can execute a good date?"
"It's not even that. I know you can do it. I just want to make sure the details are where we need them to be. Like, the places are cute. The outfit is perfect. The flowers are the right color scheme. Cologne smells great. Restaurant has 3 dollar signs—"
"Jeeesus, 3 dollar signs? Tough crowd." He jokes, even though he knows you're more than worth it.
"I'll throw my pack of pads at you, seriously. Don't ever joke like that ever again, dad." Yunho laughs at the way she knits her brows at him from the couch, buried under her blankets.
"I'm seriously just kidding, ace. I don't mean it, you know that. I promise. I won't mess this up. I'll do my best and more. She's worth it." Seora smiles.
"Good. Because I don't wanna lose her either."
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As Long As You’re Here [san x reader]
After the noise fades and the lights go out, he loves you the way no one else gets to see. In your arms.
based on [this] request
Pairing: San x fem!Reader Tropes: Established relationship. Domestic Intimacy. Shared Rituals / Repetitive Comfort. Basically San is down bad and is very clingy and can’t live without you by his side… like he’s addicted, ngl Genre: Fluff Warnings: clingy affection, vulnerability, exhaustion, skin-to-skin contact, cuddling, gentle caressing, scratching, undressing (non-sexual), lingering kisses, slow sensual touch, possessive but tender energy, emotional release, comfort and reassurance, sleepy/drowsy interactions, non-sexual intimacy, soft intimacy. Word Count: 4.8k
masterlist
San is on stage, body burning with movement. Veins stand sharp along his forearms, along his neck. Sweat traces familiar paths down his skin, catching the light every time he turns.
The crowd chants his name like prayer, thousands of voices folding into one, loud and endless in a city that is not yours.
Another country. Another night. Another borrowed stage.
You watch from the side.
Not in awe. In recognition.
He moves like he belongs to everyone. Like the stage was built for his feet, like the lights know his name.
He has learned how to give himself away in pieces, city after city, until the map of his body is scattered across the world.
But you notice the small things. The things no one else is looking for.
The way he rolls his neck between songs, slow, controlled, like he is easing something tight inside him.
How his smile drops the second the lights dim, just for a heartbeat, before he puts it back on.
The way his hands flex at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling like he is holding tension there, like he does not know where else to put it.
San is tired. You know he is.
His eyes flick backstage once.
They find you.
The fire does not dim. It softens for a second.
Just for you.
The final song ends in a rush of sound and light. Applause crashes, endless and loud. San bows, breath heavy, hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He grins, wide and bright, all teeth and confidence. The beast they came for. The man who leaves nothing behind on that stage.
You know better.
By the time he disappears into the wings, you are already waiting.
Backstage is chaos. Voices overlap. Staff move quickly, calling names, handing out towels, water bottles, schedules. Members laugh too loud, riding the adrenaline. Someone bumps into you and apologizes without really looking.
Then San is there.
He walks to you like gravity decided early.
He does not hug you yet. He stops close, close enough that you feel the heat still clinging to him, close enough that his breath ghosts your cheek. He leans in, forehead nearly touching yours, like he needs to steal your air for a second.
You smile up at him.
“You okay?”
His voice is lower now. Tired. Real. “Now I am.”
“Good to hear.”
His eyes flick over your face, slow, familiar. “You were staring.”
“You were glowing.”
He scoffs softly, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Liar.”
“Never.”
He bumps his shoulder into yours, light and playful, affection disguised as teasing. As if the room is not full of people. As if this is just another quiet hallway, another night.
You start walking with the others, and his hand brushes your lower back. Brief. Intentional. Gone before anyone could call it out. The kind of touch that says more than it shows.
He still belongs to the room. To the noise. To the people calling his name.
But his body is already inching home.
The car hums softly as it pulls away.
The send-off is done. Doors closed, goodbyes waved through tinted windows. The city opens up around you, lights streaking past. Neon smears across glass. Streetlamps pulse in slow rhythm.
Driver in front. Yeosang and Wooyoung sharing the ride with you. They are talking quietly, laughter still loose from adrenaline. The radio plays low, almost an afterthought. Yeosang’s familiar voice hums along under it, barely there.
You and San sit side by side.
Your legs touch. Not by accident.
San’s posture is still perfect. Back straight. Shoulders squared. Idol-mode clinging to him like a second skin. When Wooyoung asks him something, he answers politely, voice steady, smiling just enough. The professional version of him still doing its job.
But there are cracks.
His leg presses fully against yours, no longer hovering.
His fingers hook into the fabric of your sleeve, just the tips, like he needs to anchor himself.
Each breath he takes grows longer than the last.
You smell sweat and hairspray and the faint citrus of his cologne underneath. Heat rolls off him in quiet waves. The car is warm, loud, alive with movement, yet something small and sealed forms between you.
You notice it before he does.
The moment his head tips back against the seat. The moment his eyes finally close. The moment his jaw unclenches like he has decided it is safe to let go.
Streetlights pass over his face in slow flashes, illuminating the soft dip under his eyes. With every light, he looks less like the man on stage and more like the one who comes home with you.
Wooyoung keeps talking to the driver, animated, hands moving. Someone laughs. The world continues.
You let your pinky brush San’s.
Immediately, without opening his eyes, he laces your fingers together and tucks your joined hands under his jacket, hidden from view. Not secretive. Just private. Because it belongs to the two of you and no one else.
You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder, whispering. “Tired?”
“…Mm.”
You smile, thumb brushing his knuckles. “You did so good.”
There is a pause. Not hesitation. Something heavier.
“Thank you, love.”
He does not say more. He does not need to.
His thumb begins to stroke the inside of your wrist, slow and grounding. You trace the scar near his knuckle, the one he got making you dinner for an anniversary a couple years ago. The one you kiss when he gets nervous.
His grip tightens, just a little.
The others keep talking. The city keeps moving.
Inside this small shared space, he exhales like he has been holding it all night.
And for the first time since the lights went up, he starts to land.
The hotel corridor is quiet.
Not home. But close enough to breathe.
The carpet swallows the sound of your steps. Doors line the hallway like closed eyes. The chaos of the venue feels far away now, sealed behind concrete and distance.
San walks closer than before, shoulder brushing yours, no space left for politeness.
His hand settles fully at your waist.
No cameras. No staff. No need to hold himself upright for anyone else.
When the door shuts behind you, the click echoes louder than it should.
Silence.
That is when the second layer drops.
He doesn’t move at first. Just stands there, shoulders finally sagging, letting out a loud sigh. Then he steps into you from behind and lets his forehead drop to your shoulder. Almost defeated. Definitely exhausted.
His arms wrap around your hips. Tight. Desperate.
You rub slow circles into his forearm, fingers warm and steady. The tension drains out of him in real time. His weight sinks fully into you, spine no longer rigid, hands gripping you like you are the only thing keeping him upright.
The room is dim, unfamiliar in shape but familiar in feeling. Not home, but enough. The kind of place where routines still work. Where you know how to take care of each other without needing to think about it.
You move together without talking.
You turn in his hold, slow and careful, until you’re facing him. Your hands come up to his face, thumbs brushing the edges of his jaw, grounding him. You kiss him softly. Not deep. Just a quiet peck, then another, like punctuation marks.
He hums into your mouth, a small, happy sound that escapes him before he can stop it. His eyes close on instinct. He kisses you back just as gently, lips warm and unhurried, like he’s thanking you without words.
Then you start helping him undress.
Your hands work slowly, deliberately. You ease his jacket off his shoulders. Tug his shirt up and over his head. Each layer gone feels less like getting naked and more like setting something down. Like you’re peeling the concert, the lights, the noise off him and leaving it somewhere on the floor.
He lets you at first, pliant and trusting, watching you with soft eyes. But halfway through, he huffs a quiet laugh and reaches up to help, fingers clumsy with tiredness as he takes over, shedding the rest himself.
He pauses, then tilts his head, eyes flicking toward the bathroom. “You… wanna shower with me?”
Not bold. Not suggestive. Just hopeful. Like the idea of losing sight of you for even a minute feels wrong.
His hand finds yours again immediately, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as if to anchor the question there. He stays close, always close, as if the exhaustion might swallow him whole if he lets go for too long.
By the time the bathroom fills with steam, he is already softer.
San steps under the spray and closes his eyes immediately.
The water is hot. The mirror fogs. The world shrinks to tile and breath and the steady sound of water hitting skin.
You reach for his hair first, fingers sinking in, scratching gently the way he likes. His breath stutters on instinct. His head tips forward, then sideways, chasing your touch. His shoulders finally drop, heavy and loose, like they have been waiting all night for permission to stop holding themselves up.
He leans into you without hesitation. All his weight. No apology. No restraint.
“San,” you murmur, laughing softly as he presses closer.
He hums in response, low and content, arms sliding around your waist like he has decided this is where he lives now.
Water runs down his back, tracing muscle and familiar paths. Your hands follow, slow and careful, trying to rinse, trying to work. But he keeps moving. Keeps finding you.
His fingers drift over your sides, warm and lazy. He traces shapes he knows by heart. He kisses your shoulder. Your collarbone. A quick, absent peck to your cheek like he can’t help himself.
You tilt your head away just as he kisses again. “Hold still,” you say, amused.
He tries. For all of three seconds.
Then his mouth finds your neck, soft and clumsy, and he laughs breathlessly when water splashes up and hits his lips instead. He coughs, blinking, clearly betrayed by his own lack of coordination.
You snort. “That’s what you get.”
He grins, eyes still closed, water dripping down his lashes. “Worth it.”
You rinse his hair properly this time, fingertips working through, but he keeps stealing touches in between. A hand at your waist. Fingers brushing your ribs. A kiss dropped wherever he can reach before you dodge again.
He’s not trying to start anything. He’s too tired for that. This is just need. Just closeness. Like if he lets go, even for a moment, he might float away.
Eventually he gives up trying to kiss and settles for pressing his forehead to your shoulder, arms snug around you, breathing you in. His grip tightens when you shift, protesting the idea of distance even though you’re still right there.
On stage, he is all power and fire and precision. Here, under the water, he folds completely.
He shivers, and you know it isn’t from the cold.
After a moment, he lifts his head, hands wet and warm as they cup your face. His thumbs brush your cheekbones, slow and reverent, like he’s relearning you all over again. He kisses your temple. Your cheek. Finally your mouth.
The kiss is sleepy. A little clumsy. All feeling.
Just perfect.
When he rests his forehead against yours again, eyes still closed, he exhales like he has nowhere else he needs to be. And you know, without him saying it, that this version of him belongs to you alone.
Eventually, you manage to finish. Somehow.
You dry off in quiet motions after, the kind that don’t rush anything, while he stays close enough to make every small task take twice as long. And you don’t complain.
San pads into the room first.
Sleeping pants slung low on his hips. Bare chest still warm from the shower. Damp hair pushed back with no real care for how it falls.
He makes it to the bed and drops onto it with a soft, final thud, like his body has reached the end of its patience. The mattress dips. He stills for a moment, then opens his arms wide, dramatic and hopeful, like this is the only plan he has left.
Eyes closed. Waiting.
You don’t come.
Instead, you keep moving. Not hurried, not fussy. Just doing what needs to be done the way you always do. You gather the damp towels and hang them properly. You nudge shoes into a neat line by the door with your foot. You adjust the lights until the room feels softer, quieter. You check the AC, then the windows.
Behind you, the bed creaks faintly as he shifts.
A sigh follows. Long. Overdone.
“Baby,” he mumbles.
“One minute,” you answer easily, already crossing the room again.
“You said that already.”
“I say a lot of things.”
You reach for the remote, then your phone. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Whatever.”
“That is not a food.”
He cracks one eye open to watch you. “Anything you pick.”
“You always say that.”
“Because you’re always right.”
You hum under your breath as you scroll, a soft line from one of their songs slipping out without you noticing. It’s quiet. Casual. Familiar.
San watches you like you’re doing it on purpose.
“Why are you still over there?” he asks after a moment, voice low and a little wounded, like the distance is personal.
“I’m making the room comfortable,” you say. “So you can actually rest.”
“I am resting.”
“You are lying dramatically.”
“I am resting without you,” he corrects.
You glance over your shoulder, amused. “You are very needy tonight.”
He lifts one arm higher, fingers curling slowly in the air. An invitation. A plea. “Come here.”
“San, I need to order food.”
“I can eat later.”
“You told me in the car you were starving.”
He shrugs without opening his eyes. “I was being honest then.”
“And now?”
“I just want you.”
That slows you for half a second.
You grab the water bottle and step toward the bedside table. “Let me put this down and—”
His hand reaches out and closes around your wrist.
Not rough. Not urgent. Just certain. Warm fingers anchoring you before you can finish the sentence. He tugs once, gently but decisively, and you lose your balance with a small laugh as he pulls you onto the bed.
The mattress dips again. Your body lands against his chest, heat immediately blooming between you. Your thin shirt and shorts do nothing to stop the feeling of him.
He hums, satisfied.
“Got you.”
“You are impossible,” you laugh, trying to prop yourself up.
His arms wrap around you instantly, tighter now. “No. Stay.”
“I still need to—”
“No.”
“San.”
He buries his face into your stomach, voice muffled, softer. “Please.”
It isn’t demanding. It isn’t sharp.
It’s tired. And small. And honest.
You sigh, already giving in, fingers sliding into his hair. “If one of us trips in the dark tonight, I’m blaming you.”
He smiles against you, barely awake.
“I would crawl to you,” he murmurs.
You laugh again, quieter this time, and he shifts so you are fully on the bed with him. He tugs you down with him, guiding you to his side like it’s instinct.
Your cheek ends up pressed against his chest, half on his shoulder, half against the firm warmth of him. Your arm drapes over his stomach. One of his slides under your head automatically, the other wrapping around your back, palm settling at your waist.
His leg hooks loosely over yours. Not trapping. Just keeping.
“You take care of me too much,” he murmurs, eyes closed again, thumb tracing slow circles along your side.
“Someone has to,” you reply, voice muffled slightly against his skin.
He opens his eyes at that. You don’t see it, but you feel the shift in him. The way his chest rises deeper beneath your cheek.
“I notice, you know.”
You lift your head just enough to brush your knuckles over his jaw. “Good.”
“You steal the blankets every night,” he continues softly, “and still wake up to pull them back over me. You remind me to drink water like I forget I’m an adult. You read my moods before I even understand them.”
His fingers tighten slightly at your waist.
“And when it gets bad,” he adds, voice quieter now, “you don’t push. You don’t ask me to explain. You just sit with me. You hold my hand like that’s enough.”
He swallows.
“No one’s ever done that for me like you do.”
Your cheek presses back against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart under your ear. Your hand rests flat over it without thinking.
He nudges his nose lightly into your hair. “So just stay like this,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you for once. Just five minutes.”
You sigh like you’re weighing the offer, even though you’re already melting further into him.
“Five minutes,” you murmur.
San doesn’t answer with words.
His hand slides gently to your jaw, thumb warm beneath your ear, coaxing your face up from his chest. He lifts his head just enough to meet you halfway, like even that small effort matters.
The kiss is soft at first. Testing. His lips brush yours, barely there, as if he’s asking permission he already knows he has.
“If I could,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice rough with sleep and something deeper, “I’d stay like this forever.”
You smile into the kiss. “You’d get bored.”
His lips hover there, breath warm against yours. His eyes open just enough to look at you like you’ve said something absurd.
“Never of you.”
The words land heavy and gentle all at once.
Something shifts then. Not sharp. Not urgent. Just heavier. The quiet kind of gravity that pulls without warning, when neither of you is pretending you’re about to sleep anymore.
His mouth drifts to your cheek. Then to your jaw. The corner of your lips. He kisses like he has nowhere else to be, like he’s learning the shape of you all over again, memorizing texture, warmth, the way your breath stutters when he takes his time.
His hand slides to the small of your back, fingers spreading there, pulling you closer. Your bodies press together fully now, heat against heat. Breath mingles. The room feels warmer, thicker.
The curtains lift and fall with the breeze, and for a second it feels like the whole room is breathing with you.
You giggle softly when he kisses your neck, because he always takes the long way there. He smiles against your skin, pleased with himself, and presses another kiss just below your ear, slower this time.
“You’re not sleeping,” you whisper.
“Don’t want to,” he murmurs.
The five minutes he promised are long forgotten.
When you feel him melt into you again, really melt, the kisses deepen. Still unhurried. Still gentle. But fuller now. His lips linger longer, parting just enough to breathe you in, to steal warmth, to press the meaning of the day out through touch instead of words.
He kisses you like he’s tasting something familiar and still discovering it.
“Just us now,” he says against your lips, voice lower, steadier.
You run your fingers through his damp hair and tug gently. He exhales into your mouth, a quiet sound that makes your stomach flutter. His grip tightens at your waist, instinctive, not letting you move even an inch away.
You shift closer, hand sliding across his chest, fingertips tracing warm skin, following muscle and bone. He shivers faintly when you drag your nails down slowly, not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind him you’re here.
He pulls back just enough to look at you.
Love sits openly in his eyes. No filter. No stage lights. Just him.
“You’re staring,” you tease softly.
“Let me,” he says, almost pouty. “My girl is so pretty.”
“You say that every day.”
“And I mean it every day.”
His fingers wander again, slow and thoughtful. They trace along your shoulder, stopping at the small mole he loves so much. He brushes it with the tip of his finger, like he’s committing it to memory. Then his hand drifts lower, finding the faint childhood scar on your back.
He always pauses there.
His thumb smooths over it gently, over and over.
“Still my favorite part,” he murmurs. “Means you lived.”
Your breath catches just a little. You smile.
“And you’re still here to notice.”
You tilt your head and press your nose against his neck, tracing the freckles scattered there. You kiss one. Then another. He swallows when your mouth reaches the spot beneath his jaw, the one that makes his Adam’s apple bob and his shoulders drop instantly.
A soft hum slips out of him.
“Not fair,” he mutters, already half-gone.
“You started it.”
He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, but his hands stay strong around you, keeping you tucked close. Your lips meet again, slower this time. Softer. Lingering in the space between kisses.
No rush. No destination.
Just warmth. Skin. The quiet reassurance of belonging.
He brushes his thumb across your cheek mid-kiss, like he can’t help touching you everywhere at once. You laugh softly against his mouth.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re clingy.”
“Correct.”
You kiss him again to stop his grin.
Eventually the kisses slow. Pauses stretch longer between them. Foreheads rest together. Noses brush. His hands never leave you, even as sleep tugs at him again.
He studies your face one last time, thumb stroking your jaw gently.
“Stay,” he whispers, even though you’re already there.
You press a kiss to his nose. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His arms tighten around you in response. This time, when his eyes close, they stay closed. His breathing evens out, finally settling, like the day has loosened its grip at last.
Then something shifts.
You feel it before you understand it. A sudden spark of intention under the exhaustion.
His hand slides to your shoulder and, with surprising determination for someone half asleep, he gently pushes. Not rough. Just enough.
You blink as you tip backward onto the mattress.
“San?”
He doesn’t answer. He just follows you down, climbing over you in one fluid, sleepy motion until he’s sprawled across your chest, cheek pressed right over your heart like that was the goal all along.
Your hands land automatically on his back to steady him.
You stare down at him, amused. “What was that?”
He adjusts, satisfied now, arms circling your waist. One leg hooks over yours. He exhales deeply, as if this position makes more sense to his body.
No gap. No space.
A soft, pleased sound escapes him. Almost a purr.
His mouth pulls into the faintest pout, eyes still closed, like he’s bracing for you to protest even though he knows you won’t.
It clicks.
You shake your head softly, already smiling. Of course.
“Can you,” he murmurs, voice low and shy and already drifting, “scratch my back?”
You raise a brow down at him, fingers hovering just above his shoulder blades. “So that’s why you tackled me?”
He fakes a tired sigh, a little dramatic huff. His arms squeeze you tighter in response.
“I work so hard,” he mumbles into your shirt. “I deserve this.”
His back arches just slightly against your palm, shoulders giving the tiniest wiggle, that silent, impatient plea he’s perfected over the years.
You give in immediately.
You always do.
Your nails drag slowly down his back, light at first, never breaking contact. He melts further into you as you do, safe, like your touch gives his body permission to let go.
As your fingers trace the familiar lines of his muscles, his hands begin to move too, unthinking, instinctive.
When you reach the top of his back again, your knuckles brush over his skin, soft and soothing. At the same time, his thumb starts to trace your side in lazy arcs, a mirror of your care, like his body knows how to answer even as he drifts.
You find the knot above his shoulder blade without looking. You always do. Your thumb presses there, slow and firm.
San exhales against your chest, long and shaky, like something finally loosens inside him.
“There,” you murmur.
His response is a quiet, breath-warm “thank you,” barely there, muffled by your skin.
He pecks just above your chest, absent and sweet, then nuzzles his nose into your neck. His cheek rubs along your shirt, a soft, claiming motion, like a cat settling somewhere familiar. He doesn’t stop touching you while you don’t stop touching him. Neither of you thinks about it.
You keep scratching. Slow. Intentional. Loving.
He takes your free hand then, threads his fingers through yours while your other hand keeps moving over his back. The grip is soft but certain, grounding you both.
His fingers drift again. Trace. Pause.
They circle your ring finger, absent, thoughtful, like the thought reaches him before the words do.
“Sometimes,” he murmurs, voice barely holding together, “i think… if the world ended tomorrow, i’d be fine.”
You glance down at him, fingers still combing gently through his hair. “Why?”
“Because I found you already.”
He does not explain. He does not have to.
His arm tightens around you just a little, not sudden, not urgent, like he’s made a quiet decision and tucked it somewhere safe for later.
You smile, heart full and steady, and press a kiss to the top of his head. The hotel shampoo clings to him, clean and familiar. Home, even here.
Sleep drifts closer, slow and unannounced.
Your breaths begin to match without effort. His weight grows heavier, warm and grounding, a living blanket settling into place.
It’s summer, the room is already warm, but you don’t move. You feel chosen. Needed. Like he found the only place he wanted to be and claimed it without hesitation.
You keep pampering him the way you always do, present and gentle, until the last threads of tension finally slip free.
He sinks into you with quiet trust.
His body gives in first. You feel it when his hold loosens for a breath, just a second of slack in his arms, and then tightens again. Not because he’s lost. Not because he’s searching.
Because even here, on the edge of sleep, he refuses to let you feel forgotten.
His grip isn’t about needing somewhere to belong. It’s about making sure you never doubt that you are it.
At some point, his hand slips under your shirt.
Not urgent. Just warm, needing to feel you.
His palm settles flat against your skin, and he exhales the second he feels you there.
You feel the textures register under his touch, the lotion you rubbed in earlier, the faint trace of summer heat that never quite leaves, even after a long shower. Your skin is soft, warm, unmistakably yours.
His fingers flex once, like he’s reacquainting himself with something sacred.
They drift upward, mapping the familiar slope of your side, the gentle rise of your ribs. He pauses there, thumb brushing the soft curve beneath your breast, barely there, no pressure at all.
You shiver.
Not from want. Not from heat. From meaning.
From how his touch carries nothing but care. From how gentle he is even while half-lost to sleep. From the way he holds you like something precious, something to be protected, not taken. Like he understands exactly how much strength he has in his hands and chooses, every time, to be careful with it.
He cups you only as much as he needs to. Never crossing into hunger. Just warmth. Just devotion. Just proof.
He shifts closer in his sleep, nose pressing into your chest, breathing you in like he’s memorizing this version of you too. The quiet one. The private one. The one no stage lights ever touch.
You know this language.
He loves loudly when the world is watching. Proudly. With bold smiles, steady hands at your waist, eyes that never hide what you are to him. But here, in hotel rooms and quiet nights after wild concerts, he loves like this.
Soft. Certain. Almost overwhelming in its quiet.
Even half-awake. Even exhausted. Even with his voice worn thin from singing too hard and laughing too loud.
He still reaches for you.
Still needs you to feel how lucky he thinks he is.
You run your hand through his hair again, and he hums faintly, cheek rubbing against you, content.
He doesn’t need an audience. He just needs you to know.
“Mine,” he murmurs, rough and soft all at once.
Not possessive. Not claiming. Devoted.
You chuckle quietly into his hair, soft enough not to wake him fully, because if you take it too seriously you know your chest will ache too much.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, smiling. “I know.”
His arms tighten in response, satisfied, like that was the right answer.
You kiss the crown of his head without thinking. You don’t move. You wouldn’t dare. He chose you, even here, even like this, and it feels sacred.
Not home. Never needed to be.
Because this is where he rests best.
Because this is where he lets go.
Because tonight, and every quiet night after, he sleeps safest when you are the one holding him together.
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he’s so boyfriend 🙂↕️

