- You’ve been ignoring Hongjoong.. Yesterday, he didn’t answer his phone all day and night because he was “busy” working on new music.. So you decided to give him the silence treatment. Until, he started whining in your ear while you were doing random stuff on your computer.. You couldn’t keep silence anymore.
-Not much of a plot here! Just straight smut☺️ Listened to ateez new song ‘mamacita’ & the way joong whines ‘mami’ at the end makes me wanna bust😩.
- Also, this was made quickly so there might be grammar errors! So sorry! Im too lazy to try to proofread 😞
Warnings- Nsfw, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), sub joong (?), whiny joong, & thats it i think! If i missed something lmk<3
The clock hit 10:30 pm. You were in your shared bed on your computer, just doing random stuff. You realized that you don’t use it much so you been wanting to put it to use. Your boyfriend Hongjoong is in the living room doing whatever. Not like you care. I mean, why would you care? He clearly didn’t care enough to answer your text messages yesterday while he was at the studio. You love Hongjoong, obviously, but you can’t stand when he stays late at the studio to work on new music. You know it’s something he’s very passionate about, but why can’t he just come home at a good time? Spend time with his lovely girlfriend he loves so much. Well, maybe not right now, since you been ignoring him all day. But you can’t help that you’re petty like that..
It was now 11:16. Hongjoong finally walked in, still looking pretty upset when he realized you’re ignoring him. “Y/n, are you really still ignoring me? How long are you gonna keep this up?” He asked. He shook his head in disbelief when you didn’t answer him. He took his slippers off and hopped into bed with you, awkwardly. A few minutes passed by, now the time being 11:25. Hongjoong kept sighing over 8 thousand times, which was starting to annoy you.. he sighed one more time, before he got up to lean on his hand and leaned into your ear, slightly whispering “Okay, I’m sorry, Mami.”. You closed your eyes. Mami. Is he trying to be funny? “Listen, I shouldn’t have stayed up so late, you’re right. Like aways. Sometimes I can’t help it.. Okay? Mami?” You decided that you were done ignoring him. “Okay, but just don’t do it again? Or at least give me a heads up.” You told him. He smirked and leaned in for a kiss.
Somehow, he managed to get on top of you. Kissing you as if he was eating his last meal. You bring your hands into his hair and started tugging on it. He gasped in your mouth, showing clear signs that he liked that. His hands were all over you. Touching your boobs, waist, hips, thighs, everything. “Fuck, please..” you smiled, “please, what?” He bit his lip, trying to not to whine. “I need to eat you out, please, Mami.” You shook your head, giving that okay to go down there. He rushed to pull down your pants and underwear, desperately trying to get a taste of your pussy. You giggled, “Calm down, joong. It’s not that serious” he scoffed at that.
“It is that serious. Your pussy is to die for.” He got a look at your pussy before giving you a long lick between your lips. “Mmh, Mami~. Been waiting hours to get a taste of this..” you bit your lip, trying not to moan already. He found your clit, sucking on it for dear life. “Oh my fuck, joong!” You threw your head back, but you can feel that he’s smirking. He’s clearly enjoying himself. You feel his hands on your mid thigh, trailing down to your hole. He put in one finger first until you told him to put the second one in. You were in pure bliss. You actually don’t remember the last time you guys had sex or even masterbated. This felt so nice, you were so happy that you ignored him so you guys can finally have some fun. His fingers pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, while he sucked on your clit, almost making you cum right then and there. “Fuuuckk, joongie! I’m close! I’m so close” you moaned out. He speeds up his pace, making you shake and squirm. “Fuck,fuck,fuck, I’m cumming!” You shouted, creaming over his fingers. Hongjoong took his fingers out and sucked on them until they were clean.
Hongjoong smiled wide, “Was that good perfect for you? Mami?” You rolled your eyes and nudged him with the heel of your foot.
You guys cleaned up and now are cuddling each other. It was now 12:12, you turned to him and smiled. “I missed you.” He smiled back, “I missed you too. You know, we could have spent more quality time with each other if you weren’t ignoring me the whole day.” You looked away from his eyes, “yeah.. I’m sorry about that, I was just upset. I think I’m getting my period soon, unfortunately.” He kissed you. “It’s okay, love. I get it. I deserved it.”
You pulled him closer to you, “goodnight, I love you.”
𓏵 SYNOPSIS ───── headcanons on office worker yunho, who loves you too much to keep your relationship a secret—even while you're working overtime to hide it.
genre. fluff ‹𝟹 〔 pairing(s). secret bf!yunho x fem!reader 〕 wc. 787 ! 〔 warnings/tags. secret lovers (secret only inside the office, around co-workers), office workers, down bad!yunho, manager!yunho, employee!reader, kisses, full of love, long term relationship (10 years), no smut, SFW, etc !! 〕
⤷ 〔 ✉️ 〕 heyy! this is my first post on here, also my first ever headcanon! i usually write fics (i've been writing for a few years now), but this is my first time trying a headcanon, so i'm exciteddd!! and more secret bf!yunho headcanons are coming, so look forward to that!
● officeworker!yunho who loves you way too much to actually keep your relationship a secret. Spoiler: he sucks at it. Meanwhile, you're working overtime just to keep up appearances.
● officeworker!yunho who leaves sticky notes all over your desk or monitor. Little reminders to eat, hype notes for big presentations, or just sweet love confessions. He sneaks them in during lunch breaks or empty office hours so he doesn't get caught.
● officeworker!yunho who always manages to sit at the adjacent table in the crowded office canteen just to watch you eat. If he catches you skipping meals, his phone instantly slips out to text you under the table: Eat more.
● officeworker!yunho who—when you skip lunch or hate the cafeteria food—drags you to your favorite restaurant for dinner after work. Even if it's impossible to get a table, he somehow secures the reservation.
● officeworker!yunho who has your favorite bouquet delivered to your desk every few days with anonymous notes, knowing it instantly turns your bad days around. Your colleagues ask way too many questions and tease you relentlessly, but honestly? It's worth it.
● officeworker!yunho who uses his team manager status to his absolute advantage. He calls you into his private office for "urgent matters," only to shower you in endless kisses because he physically can't stay away. (Everyone outside just assumes you messed up.)
● officeworker!yunho who knows your schedule better than you do. He knows the exact minute you step away for a bathroom makeup touch-up or a quick coffee run, casually waiting in an empty corridor or break room corner just to steal a few minutes with you.
● officeworker!yunho who can barely focus during big presentations because his eyes and mind are entirely fixed on you sitting across the room.
● officeworker!yunho who gets jealous. A lot. The second another male employee gets too close or makes you laugh in the break room, he's silently fuming. Later, he sulks all night—mostly because he knows it drives you crazy and earns him extra attention and kisses.
● officeworker!yunho who refuses to let you drive to work since you hate it. He drops you off in the morning, waits for you after work at the nearest bus stop, and drives the rest of the way home together.
● officeworker!yunho who looks like the ultimate serious, unapproachable boss at work, but behind closed doors in your shared home, he's a literal golden retriever in human form.
● officeworker!yunho who bans you from working at home because home is for relaxing together. He might quietly extend your project deadlines at the office, but he draws the line at laptops on laps when he wants your full attention.
● officeworker!yunho who desperately wishes he could shout your relationship from the rooftops because he's a loud lover. But he respects your wish to stay under the radar—especially when you're dating the office's most famous, handsome guy that everyone has a secret crush on.
● officeworker!yunho who peeks at you through the gaps of his office blinds while you're laser-focused on your screen. You can always tell when he's staring.
● officeworker!yunho who sometimes gets just a little too obvious, leaving the rest of the employees asking questions.
● officeworker!yunho who, after years of hiding, accidentally slips up during a team dinner and lets it drop that you two went to high school together. If you hadn't kicked his shin under the table, he would have confessed to university, too.
— "I hate having to hide my love for you."
"When this is over, I'm going to be so loud."
"I don't like how he talks to you like you aren't literally mine."
● officeworker!yunho who, after 10 long years of secretly dating (inside the office), finally proposes. And he is the very first one to proudly announce your engagement to the whole office, holding your hand so tight nobody could ever doubt that you're his.
● officeworker!yunho who is entirely too giddy about not hiding anymore. He now delivers the bouquet to your desk himself, still leaving sticky notes—only this time, they're signed with his name.
● officeworker!yunho who now summons you to his office every single day, right out loud. Who walks proudly to the break room with you instead of lingering in corners. Who finally gets to drive, walk, and leave the building by your side.
● officeworker!yunho who can finally, freely broadcast his love for you.
— "I love not having to hide you anymore."
"I waited ten years, I'm never shutting up now."
"Y/n, love, come to my office for a bit?"
"Sit with me for lunch. I'll feed you."
"Come sit on my lap, nobody's looking anymore."
"Everyone is going to hear that you're all mine."
DISCLAIMER : MDNI! This drabble in absolutely no way represents the actions or thoughts of Ateez. This is a work of pure fiction!
Hongjoong: Standing
Don't hate me but he's a busy guy. Most of the time he only has time for quickies, especially in his studio. You're both so insatiable that he can't even lay you down to properly fuck you. He will drop to his knees, throw a leg over his shoulder, and eat you out against the wall then stand abruptly and plunge himself deep inside of you. He still makes love to you on his days off but you spend a lot of time together in his studio.
Seonghwa: Missionary
It seems basic but Hwa is really big on eye contact and intimacy. He's actually very stern about you looking away. He wants to see every micro expression you make, kiss your lips and neck, and whisper dirty sweet nothings in your ear. He also loves how small and vulnerable you look under him, spread open with no shame. He loves going slow and steady to savor the feeling of your warm bodies pressed impossibly close together.
Yunho: Spooning
People compare him to a dog and/or puppy and it's not that far off in this situation. He has to physically stop himself from humping your beautiful plush thighs when you're lying in bed so he loves slipping inside you from behind while lying down, rutting against you like a dog in heat. Slow or fast, depends on your energy but no matter what he's scattering marks on your upper back and shoulder. One hand on your breast teasing your nipple, the other gently playing with your hair.
Yeosang: Chokehold
He loves to hit it from behind but he loves squeezing your head in his huge bicep more. It makes him feel a lot bigger and stronger than he already is. The goal is to completely wreck your tight hole and receive hickies on his bicep. However, his gentle nature never slips, no matter how brutally he's pounding your pussy, he constantly checks in.
San: Lotus
He has a very deep, emotional, connection with you and he hates quickies. He can wreck you sure, but he prefers to make love in the most intimate way possible. He loves having you sat on his lap (criss cross), deep inside you while your foreheads are connected and your breathing is synced. The slow grinding gives way to breathy moans and him swallowing them and he kisses you passionately.
Mingi: Cowgirl
Mingi worships your breasts so he wants to watchem bounce. Mouth all over them while his large hands switch between running up and down your spine and grabbing/slapping your ass. Don't worry, when your legs get tired that man becomes a piston.
Wooyoung: Any position he can eat you out
HES A MUNCH! He thinks about eat you out almost 24/7. He wants to throw you on every surface, in any outfit, any position, regardless of if people are around, though he does show restraint, he's the only who gets to see you in that state. He just wants to taste you and feel you convulse around his magical tongue. Bonus points: he may or may not have a tongue piercing
Jongho: Butterfly
This man wants to use your legs at ear muffs. He reaches impossibly deep inside you as he has you layed on any and every surface. Your legs thrown over his shoulders while gazing deep into your eyes. His thrusts are aggressive (however very controlled) but his simultaneous ministrations on your clit are gentle so the dual sensation shatters you.
A like, reblog, or follow is very appreciated ☺️
A/n: I definitely didn't expect my first fic/drabble to be smut😭🙏🏽 I have so much fluff in the vault but this was finished first. I hope you enjoy, have a lovely day🩷
synopsis : a figure skater meets a gentle dentist after a toothache, and their soft, supportive love grows alongside her skating career. With his constant encouragement, she wins Olympic gold, and then he proposes on the ice, proving he’s been her greatest victory all along.
• pairing : dentist! yunho x figure skater! reader
𓈒𓍼𓏸 wc : 7.4k
𓈒𓍼𓏸 genre : fluff, romance, slice of life, light erotica (just a little)
𓈒𓍼𓏸 warnings : 16+
♡ author's note : hey babies ! so i wrote this inspired by yunho's first dream and my first dream, and honestly, this trope has a unique dynamic that you may love ! hope u enjoy lovies and pls lmk if it's good ! <3
☆ masterlist
You first met Yunho because of a toothache.
Which, in your opinion, was one of the most unfair meet-cutes ever.
Not in a café. Not at a rink. Not in a bookstore. No. A dental clinic.
Your day off was supposed to be sacred.
No training. No drills. No coach yelling “again.” No early alarms. Just sleep, coffee, and maybe stretching if guilt won.
Instead, you woke up with a dull throb in your jaw.
You ignored it.
Figure skaters ignored pain like it was part of the job description.
By noon, it pulsed.
By two, it stabbed.
By four, you were clutching your cheek and googling emergency dentist near me like your life depended on it.
That’s how you ended up standing in front of a clean glass building with soft pastel signage and a neat little logo shaped like a smiling tooth.
You groaned.
“Of course it’s cute,” you muttered. “My suffering must be aesthetic.”
Inside, the clinic smelled faintly of mint and citrus. Calm instrumental music played, the kind that felt like it was trying to convince your body you weren’t about to be stabbed with tiny metal tools.
The receptionist smiled. “Appointment?”
You pressed your cheek. “Pain. Sudden. Urgent. I will cry if not helped.”
She nodded sympathetically. “We can fit you in. Please sit.”
You sat.
You regretted everything.
You hated dentists.
You hated the sound of drills. The sterile lighting. The way you couldn’t talk while someone examined your mouth like you were a science project.
A door opened.
“Next patient?”
The voice was warm.
Low.
Gentle.
You looked up.
And forgot about your tooth.
He was tall.
Not just tall—tall tall. The kind of tall that made doorframes look slightly concerned. Soft brown hair framed his forehead, and his eyes—
You blinked.
Kind.
That was the word.
Kind eyes.
He smiled politely. “You must be our emergency patient?”
You stared.
He tilted his head slightly, amused but patient.
You snapped back to reality. “Yes. That’s me. Emergency disaster.”
“I’m Yunho,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
Oh.
Oh no.
He had the voice of someone who read bedtime stories to children and made them believe monsters didn’t exist.
You followed him into the treatment room in a daze.
You sat in the chair.
He adjusted the light.
“You said it started today?”
You nodded.
“Sharp pain or dull ache?”
“Both,” you mumbled. “It upgraded.”
He chuckled softly.
Why was that comforting.
“Open for me?”
You opened your mouth.
Dignity left the chat.
He leaned closer, gloved fingers gentle as he tilted your chin. His touch was careful, almost apologetic, like he didn’t want to inconvenience you by examining your own teeth.
Professional, you reminded yourself. He’s professional. Stop noticing things.
His brows furrowed slightly as he checked.
“Hm.”
You froze.
Was that a bad hm.
“That’s a worried hm,” you tried to say, which came out as “Tha ah wah-ee hm.”
He laughed quietly. “Not worried. Thinking.”
He leaned back. “Looks like a small cavity that finally decided to protest. We can fix it today.”
Relief flooded you.
“No root canal?”
“No root canal.”
You nearly cried from joy.
While preparing tools, he asked casually, “So what do you do?”
You swallowed. “I’m a figure skater.”
He paused mid-motion.
Turned.
Eyes bright.
“Really?”
You nodded cautiously.
“That’s amazing.”
Not fake-polite amazing.
Real amazing.
You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “It’s… just a job.”
“It’s not just anything,” he said gently. “That takes discipline. Balance. Years of training.”
You stared.
Most people either said Wow you must be flexible or Do you know how to do backflips?
No one ever said discipline.
“…Yeah,” you said quietly. “It does.”
He smiled softly, like he understood something about you that most people missed.
“Alright,” he said, adjusting his mask. “I’ll numb the area first.”
You stiffened.
He noticed immediately.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
You hesitated. “…I don’t like needles.”
His eyes softened.
“I’ll be quick,” he promised. “And I’ll tell you before I do anything. Nothing sudden. Okay?”
You nodded.
He raised the syringe slowly so you could see it. “This is the anesthetic. Small pinch. That’s all.”
You gripped the armrests.
He waited.
Actually waited.
Not rushing.
Not dismissing.
Just… there.
“You ready?” he asked.
“…Okay.”
Gentle fingers rested against your cheek, steadying you.
“Little pinch.”
It stung.
You flinched—
—and then his thumb lightly tapped your wrist.
Distraction.
Comfort.
Grounding.
It was over in seconds.
“…That wasn’t bad,” you admitted.
He grinned behind his mask. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
The procedure was quick.
You expected tension, pain, panic.
Instead—
You felt calm.
Because every movement he made was deliberate. Every tool introduction came with a soft explanation. Every adjustment came with “You okay?”
At one point he paused.
“You’re doing great,” he said.
Your heart did something embarrassing.
Why did praise from a dentist feel like winning a championship medal.
When he finished, he leaned back. “All done.”
You blinked.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“That was…” you searched for the word. “…pleasant.”
He laughed. “I’ll put that on our reviews.”
You sat up slowly, still numb.
He removed his gloves.
“You should avoid chewing on that side for a few hours,” he said. “And no cold drinks until sensation returns.”
You nodded.
Neither of you moved.
The air shifted.
You didn’t know why your chest felt tight.
Maybe it was the way he looked at you—not as a patient, not as a stranger, but as someone interesting. Someone worth paying attention to.
“So,” he said lightly, “when’s your next competition?”
You blinked. “Next month.”
“I hope you win.”
It was simple.
Sincere.
No teasing. No exaggeration. Just belief.
Your throat felt weirdly tight. “…Thanks.”
You told yourself you didn’t go back because of him.
You told yourself it was responsible dental care.
Routine checkups.
Preventative maintenance.
Totally normal.
Totally professional.
Totally not because your dentist had the warmest smile you’d ever seen.
But somehow—
Your appointments kept landing on his shift.
Coincidence.
Sure.
Every time you walked in, his face lit up slightly.
“Hey, skater.”
Every time, your heart betrayed you.
Three months after your first visit, you were practicing a program when your coach clapped.
“Break.”
You glided to the barrier, breath visible in the cold air.
That’s when you saw him.
Standing near the entrance.
Tall.
Scarf around his neck.
Looking wildly out of place in a skating rink.
You blinked.
“…Yunho?”
He waved awkwardly. “Hi.”
Your brain malfunctioned.
“You… you’re here.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you here?”
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You said your practice was today. I was curious.”
Your coach smirked from behind you.
You ignored her.
“You came… to watch me?”
He nodded.
Heat spread across your face that had nothing to do with exercise.
You stepped back onto the ice.
Your heartbeat felt different now.
Not nerves.
Not pressure.
Something lighter.
You skated.
Spun.
Jumped.
And every time you passed the boards, you saw him watching—eyes wide, completely captivated, like you were performing in an arena instead of an empty practice rink.
When you finished, you glided back, breathing hard.
“Well?” you asked.
He looked like he’d just witnessed magic.
“That,” he said softly, “was incredible.”
You smiled before you could stop yourself.
After practice, you sat across from him in a small café.
He stirred his drink. “I didn’t realize how intense skating is.”
You laughed. “People think it’s just sparkles and music.”
“You make it look easy.”
“It’s not.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why it’s impressive.”
You studied him.
“You really pay attention, don’t you?”
He tilted his head. “To things that matter? Yeah.”
Your chest fluttered.
It happened quietly.
Naturally.
Like it had always been heading there.
You were walking outside the café, evening air cool against your skin.
“I’m glad my tooth hurt that day,” you said suddenly.
He blinked. “Most patients don’t say that.”
You laughed softly. “If it didn’t… I wouldn’t have met you.”
He stopped walking.
Looked at you.
Really looked.
“…I was hoping you’d say something like that.”
Your breath caught.
“I wanted an excuse to see you outside the clinic,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want to cross a line.”
“You didn’t,” you said gently.
Silence.
Soft.
Warm.
Then—
“Can I take you out sometime?” he asked.
Your answer came instantly.
“Yes.”
Dating Yunho was like living inside a soft song.
He remembered things.
Your competition dates. Your favorite tea. Which ankle got sore first during winter training.
He showed up with snacks after practice.
He learned skating terminology just to understand your stories.
And when you got nervous before competitions, he held your hands and said—
“You’ve already won, you know.”
“How?”
“You love what you do. That’s the rarest victory.”
The night before your biggest event of the season, you sat beside him on a quiet bench outside the arena.
“I’m scared,” you admitted.
He squeezed your fingers. “Of what?”
“Messing up. Falling. Disappointing people.”
He turned toward you.
“You could fall ten times,” he said softly, “and I’d still think you were amazing.”
Your eyes stung.
“You’re biased.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I’m your biggest fan.”
You didn’t win first.
You placed second.
But when you stepped off the ice, breathless and shaking, he was there with a small bouquet of white flowers.
“You were beautiful,” he said.
Not your skating was.
You were.
And somehow that meant more than any medal.
Months later, you lay on his couch, head resting on his shoulder as a movie played you weren’t watching.
His fingers traced lazy circles on your wrist.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Mm?”
“Your checkup is next week.”
You laughed. “You’re dating me. Isn’t that cheating?”
“Nope,” he said. “It’s dedication to oral health.”
You snorted. “Romantic.”
“I can be more romantic,” he said.
“Oh?”
He tilted your chin gently.
Smiled.
“You still have the nicest smile I’ve ever seen.”
Your heart melted.
If someone had told you that the love of your life would be a dentist—
You would have laughed.
But love didn’t arrive dramatically.
It didn’t crash in like a storm.
It came quietly.
With gentle hands.
Kind eyes.
Soft reassurances.
And a voice that always said—
“You’re doing great.”
And somehow, with him beside you—
You always believed it.
You didn’t expect the call to come on a Tuesday.
Tuesdays were boring. Tuesdays were conditioning drills and protein bars and your coach yelling about posture.
Tuesdays were not supposed to change your life.
Your phone buzzed during your water break.
Unknown number.
You almost ignored it.
Almost.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Y/N?”
“Yes?”
“This is the national federation.”
Your stomach dropped.
Your coach froze mid-lecture across the rink.
You swallowed. “Yes?”
“We’re calling to inform you that you’ve officially qualified for the 2026 Winter Olympics.”
Silence.
Not dramatic silence.
Not cinematic silence.
Real silence — the kind where your brain shuts off because reality suddenly becomes too big to process.
“…I what?”
“You qualified.”
Your knees went weak.
Your coach was already running toward you.
“You qualified,” the voice repeated gently. “Congratulations.”
Your lips trembled.
“…Thank you.”
You hung up.
Stared at your phone.
Your coach grabbed your shoulders. “Well??”
You whispered, “I made it.”
She screamed.
You burst into tears.
Your hands shook as you dialed him.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, skater.”
Your voice broke. “Yunho.”
He sat up instantly. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“I—”
You couldn’t say it.
Not because you didn’t want to.
Because you couldn’t breathe.
“I qualified,” you whispered.
Silence.
“…For what?” he asked softly, like he already knew but didn’t want to assume.
“The Olympics.”
Another silence.
Then—
“You qualified,” he repeated.
Not loud.
Not shocked.
Just… full.
Proud.
You heard him exhale slowly.
“I knew it.”
Your chest tightened. “You did not.”
“I did,” he said. “I told you before, remember?”
You remembered.
You’ve already won.
Your eyes filled again.
“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly. “So proud.”
You cried harder.
That night he showed up at your apartment with takeout, flowers, and a cake that said:
GO GOLD OR GO HOME
You laughed so hard you nearly dropped it.
“That’s aggressive,” you said.
“I panicked at the bakery,” he admitted. “There were too many options.”
You set the cake down. “You could’ve gotten something classy.”
“I did,” he said, pointing at himself.
You snorted.
He pulled you into a hug before you could reply.
And that was when it hit you.
Not the Olympics.
Not the pressure.
Not the expectations.
Just—
Him.
His arms around you.
His steady heartbeat against your cheek.
“I’m really going,” you whispered.
He nodded against your hair. “Yeah. You are.”
Olympic preparation was different.
Harder. Longer. Sharper.
Everything mattered now.
Your jump height. Your spin speed. Your landing edges. Your breathing. Your stamina. Your sleep.
Your stress.
Especially your stress.
Which is why Yunho became your unofficial emotional support human.
He brought meals when you forgot to eat.
He taped your ankles when they ached.
He sat quietly during late-night stretch sessions, reading while you worked.
Sometimes you’d glance up mid-stretch and find him already looking at you.
Softly.
Fondly.
Like you were something precious.
“What?” you’d ask.
“Nothing,” he’d say.
But his smile always answered.
Every athlete has one.
The day nothing works.
You fell three times.
Missed two combinations.
Under-rotated a jump you’d landed perfectly for months.
Your coach called break.
You skated off, chest tight, throat burning.
You didn’t cry at the rink.
You never cried at the rink.
But the second you got outside—
The tears came.
You didn’t even realize you’d called him until he answered.
“Hey love—”
“I’m bad,” you choked.
Pause.
Then calm.
Gentle.
“No, you’re not.”
“I couldn’t land anything today.”
“That happens.”
“I’m going to embarrass everyone.”
“You won’t.”
Your voice cracked. “You didn’t see me.”
“I don’t need to.”
Silence.
Then softly—
“I’ve seen you enough to know one bad day doesn’t define you.”
Your breathing slowed.
He continued, voice warm as sunlight:
“You’re allowed to struggle. Champions struggle. That’s how they become champions.”
You wiped your eyes.
“…Can you come over?”
“I’m already grabbing my keys.”
He didn’t ask you to talk when he arrived.
He didn’t ask what went wrong.
He didn’t analyze.
He just sat beside you on the couch and opened his arms.
You went into them immediately.
No hesitation.
No pride.
Just need.
He held you quietly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back.
“You’re safe,” he murmured.
And somehow—
You believed him more than you believed your own doubts.
The airport was loud.
Too loud.
Too bright.
Too everything.
Athletes milled around with luggage and gear bags and headphones and game faces.
You stood beside him near security.
Your fingers were laced together tightly.
“You’ll text me when you land?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And after practice?”
“Yes.”
“And after meals?”
You laughed softly. “Okay, mom.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I just want to know you’re okay.”
Your expression softened.
“I will be.”
He hesitated.
Then leaned down and pressed his forehead gently to yours.
“I wish I could be there.”
“You will be,” you said. “Just… not physically.”
He nodded.
Then quietly—
“Bring me back a gold medal, okay?”
You grinned. “Bossy.”
“Motivational,” he corrected.
It felt unreal.
Flags everywhere.
Languages everywhere.
Energy everywhere.
You should’ve felt intimidated.
Instead—
You felt focused.
Because every time nerves tried to creep in, you remembered Yunho’s voice.
You’re doing great.
Your room was dim.
Your skates rested beside your bed like loyal companions.
Your phone buzzed.
Yunho.
You answered instantly. “Hi.”
“How’s my Olympian?”
“Nervous.”
“Good.”
You blinked. “Good?”
“Nerves mean you care.”
You smiled faintly. “You always know what to say.”
“I practice speeches in the mirror,” he said seriously.
You giggled.
Silence settled.
Comfortable.
Warm.
“Y/N?” he said softly.
“Yeah?”
“No matter what happens tomorrow… I’m proud of you.”
Your throat tightened.
“…Thank you.”
“And,” he added, “I’ll be watching live. So don’t fall.”
You gasped. “YUNHO.”
He laughed.
Your tension melted.
The arena lights were blinding.
The crowd was thunder.
Your name echoed.
You stepped onto the ice.
Cold air kissed your skin.
Blades touched the surface.
And suddenly—
Everything went quiet.
Not literally.
Just inside you.
Because you heard it.
That voice.
Warm. Steady. Certain.
You’re doing great.
Music began. You moved. One step. One glide. One jump. Landed. Spin. Transition. Combination. Landed. Applause swelled.
You didn’t think. Didn’t doubt. Didn’t hesitate.
You just skated. Flew. Lived. Felt. Every hour of training. Every fall. Every bruise. Every early morning. Every whispered encouragement. Every soft “I believe in you.”
It all carried you.
Final pose.
Music ended.
Silence—
Then the arena exploded.
Scoreboards were cruel.
You sat in the kiss-and-cry area gripping your coach’s hand.
Breathing shallow.
Screen flashed.
Numbers appeared.
You blinked.
Your coach screamed.
You stared.
1
First.
First place.
You didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t process.
“…I won?” you whispered.
Your coach was crying. “YOU WON.”
You covered your mouth.
The world blurred.
Back home, Yunho was standing in front of his TV.
Still.
Silent.
Eyes shining.
When your score appeared—
He laughed.
Not loudly.
Not wildly.
Just softly.
Proudly.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered.
The medal was heavier than you expected.
It rested against your chest, cool metal warming against your skin.
Cameras flashed.
Crowds cheered.
Anthem played.
But all you could think was—
I want to show him.
You didn’t even take off your skates before calling.
He answered instantly.
“Hi, champion.”
You burst into tears.
“I did it.”
“I know.”
“I did it, Yunho.”
“I know.”
You laughed through tears. “You sound calmer than me!”
“I’m trying not to scream and scare my neighbors.”
You sniffled. “You watched?”
“Every second.”
Silence.
Then softly—
“You were breathtaking.”
Your heart fluttered.
“…Come see me when I get back?”
He smiled through the phone. “Try and stop me.”
When you landed, the terminal was crowded.
Fans. Media. Officials.
You barely saw any of them.
Because you saw him.
Standing behind the barrier.
Tall.
Bright-eyed.
Holding a sign that read:
WORLD’S BEST SKATER (AND MY FAVORITE PERSON)
You laughed.
Ran to him.
He caught you easily, lifting you slightly off the ground.
“You did it,” he murmured into your hair.
“You believed I would.”
“Of course I did.”
You pulled back and placed the medal around his neck.
“For you.”
His eyes widened. “Y/N—”
“You’re part of this,” you said softly. “Every step.”
He swallowed.
Then gently took it off and put it back on you.
“No,” he said. “It belongs here.”
His fingers brushed your collarbone as he adjusted it.
“And I belong right beside you.”
That night you lay beside him, medal resting on the bedside table.
Your fingers traced his hand lazily.
“Yunho?”
“Mm?”
“If my tooth never hurt that day…”
He smiled sleepily. “Yeah?”
“I wouldn’t have met you.”
He squeezed your hand.
“Then I guess,” he murmured, “that cavity was fate.”
You laughed softly.
And as sleep pulled you under, his thumb brushed gentle circles against your skin—
Just like it always had.
Steady.
Warm.
Certain.
Just like him.
You noticed it three weeks after the Olympics.
Yunho was acting strange.
Not bad strange.
Not distant strange.
Just… secretly glowing strange.
He smiled at his phone more.
Whispered with your coach once.
Closed tabs when you walked past.
At first you thought nothing of it.
Then he started asking questions.
Weirdly specific questions.
“What kind of rings do skaters prefer?”
“Does hand size change after training?”
“Do you like silver or gold more?”
You narrowed your eyes.
“…Why.”
He blinked innocently. “Just curious.”
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
He told you to dress warm.
That was the only instruction.
“No training clothes,” he added. “Something pretty.”
You stared. “I always look pretty.”
He smiled. “True. But today I want breathtaking.”
Your stomach fluttered.
When you arrived—
Your breath stopped.
The rink was empty.
Lights dimmed.
Soft golden lamps lined the boards.
Fairy lights twinkled along the railing like fallen stars.
In the center of the ice—
One single spotlight.
You turned slowly.
“…Yunho.”
He stood behind you, hands tucked nervously into his coat pockets.
“I rented it,” he admitted.
Your chest tightened. “Why?”
He stepped closer.
Because he was tall, when he looked at you, his gaze always dipped slightly, soft and fond like sunlight filtering through leaves.
“Because,” he said gently, “this is where you shine the most.”
Your throat burned.
He held out your skates.
“You didn’t think I’d make you dress up just to stand still, did you?”
You laughed softly through the emotion rising in your chest.
You changed.
Stepped onto the ice.
Glided.
It felt different today.
Not like training.
Not like competition.
Like floating.
Music began playing softly through the speakers — your Olympic program song.
You looked at him.
He nodded once.
You skated.
Slow. Graceful. Effortless.
No jumps. No pressure. Just movement.
Just feeling.
Just you.
When you finished, you turned toward him—
—and found him already stepping onto the ice.
Carefully.
Cautiously.
Holding something behind his back.
Your heart stuttered.
“Yunho…”
He stopped in front of you.
Close enough that you could see the tiny crease that appeared beside his eye when he was nervous.
“I practiced walking on ice for two weeks,” he confessed. “For this exact moment.”
Your lips parted.
He took a breath.
Then—
He knelt.
Your hands flew to your mouth.
He revealed the small velvet box.
Opened it.
Inside rested a delicate ring that caught the light like a captured star.
His voice was soft.
Steady.
But trembling at the edges.
“I’ve watched you fall,” he said quietly.
“I’ve watched you get back up.”
“I’ve watched you doubt yourself… and prove yourself wrong every time.”
Your vision blurred.
“I’ve watched you become the strongest person I know.”
His eyes lifted to yours.
“And somewhere along the way… you became my home.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks.
“I don’t just want to watch you shine,” he whispered.
“I want to stand beside you for every performance life gives us.”
His thumb brushed your hand gently.
“Will you marry me?”
The world went silent.
Not rink silent.
Not night silent.
Heart silent.
“Yes,” you breathed.
His shoulders dropped in relief, a laugh escaping him as he slid the ring onto your finger.
It fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
He knew you.
You didn’t even realize you were crying until he stood and wiped your cheek with his thumb.
“You’re crying,” he murmured.
“You proposed on ice,” you sniffled. “What did you expect?”
He smiled.
Then you grabbed his coat and pulled him down into a kiss.
Soft.
Warm.
Certain.
His hands settled instinctively at your waist, grounding you, holding you like you were something precious he never wanted to drop.
When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together.
“You’re stuck with me now,” he whispered.
You smiled. “Good.”
The apartment was quiet.
Snow tapped gently against the windows.
You sat on the couch facing him, still staring at your ring like it might vanish if you blinked.
“I can’t believe you planned all that,” you murmured.
He shrugged shyly. “I wanted it to be perfect.”
“It was,” you said. “You’re perfect.”
He laughed softly. “I’m really not.”
“You are to me.”
Something shifted in his expression.
Warmer.
Deeper.
The kind of look that always made your stomach flutter.
He reached out slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day.”
Your breath caught. “Then why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to wait until you were mine forever.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper. “I was already yours.”
His eyes darkened slightly — not intense, not overwhelming.
Just full.
Full of affection.
Full of love.
Full of you.
His fingers slid gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward him.
This kiss was different.
Slower.
Softer.
Lingering.
His lips moved against yours like he was savoring the moment rather than rushing it. One hand cradled your cheek while the other rested at your waist, thumb brushing slow circles through the fabric of your sweater.
You melted into him.
The world outside faded.
All you could feel was warmth.
His warmth.
Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, holding him closer.
He pulled back just enough to murmur—
“You okay?”
You nodded softly.
Always checking.
Always gentle.
“Yunho,” you whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
His smile was quiet.
Certain.
“I love you too.”
He kissed you again — softer this time, like sealing a promise rather than starting a fire.
And somehow that made your heart race even more.
Later, you lay curled against his chest, his arm wrapped around you protectively.
Your ring glinted faintly in the lamplight.
His fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm.
Comforting.
Steady.
Safe.
“You know,” you murmured sleepily, “all this happened because of a cavity.”
He chuckled quietly. “Best dental diagnosis of my career.”
You smiled against his shoulder.
Outside, snow kept falling.
Inside, his heartbeat thumped slow and sure beneath your ear.
And you realized—
Gold medals were nice.
Olympics were dreams.
But this?
This quiet moment, wrapped in his arms, wearing his promise on your finger—
