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#nct dream drabbles
teasteeper · 2 days
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jaemin x f!reader, smut 18+ minors dni
*repost from my old blog
bf!jaemin who has such a high sex drive, so energetic and cocky, smirking up at you as he bounces you on his big cock, making you cum for the third time
your thighs are shaking and sticky with your slick, muscles screaming for rest and your skin sweaty and flushed from the effort. jaemin’s big hands are holding up all your weight as his fingers press into the flesh of your hips, lifting you up and slamming you down over his hips over and over. your fucked out body trembles each time his cockhead pushes against your cervix, the only noises you’re able to make are stuttered and mumbled utterances of his name along with tired and strangled whines
jaemin’s just smiling smugly at the way he’s making you fall apart, flashing his prefect teeth before bringing a big hand up to your face, hooking the hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear before holding your jaw firmly between his long fingers, “wake up, cute girl .. c’mon, baby, open your pretty eyes”
“jaem .. s’too much ..”
“but your pussy’s squeezing me so nicely, baby, you can do one more, c’mere”
he flips your bodies so you’re on your back beneath him before he’s grabbing your bruised hips and flipping you onto your tummy. his long fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he pulls them apart. he’d lean down to kiss and lick at your puffy and dripping cunt, kneading the backs of your thighs. he’d pull his face away to inspect your sex, dipping his fingers between your slick lips, your tight wetness squelching around his digits as he pushed them into you, “your pussy’s so tight, baby, s’begging to cum again”
jaemin lays down beside you, lifting one of your hips and pulling it towards him so you’re his little spoon, his broad chest against your back and his throbbing cock pressed against your ass. one of his big biceps rests under your head as he wraps his arm around your neck, slightly squeezing your throat between his bicep and forearm and laughing against the shell of your ear as you gasp and scratch at his arm
he pushes into you so slowly, shushing you and running his big palm up and down your torso and the curve of your hip as he bottoms out in your tight sex. he picks up the pace, ignoring your crying and whining as he fucks up into you, your bruised walls pulsing around every inch of his wet cock, his full balls slapping against your sensitive clit
he gets so fucked out and lost in how wet and warm you are, he swings his leg over your hip so he’s pinning you down, pounding you into the mattress. you’re getting dizzy from the headlock he has you in and his raspy grunts and moans he’s spilling into your ear, your pussy so wrecked from the way he’s pounding into your walls so desperately
despite it being the fourth time he’s made you cum tonight, he’s so desperate for it, desperate to feel you squeeze and gush around him as he finally finishes, “that’s it, baby, thaaat’s it, fuckkk”, “don’t stop squeezing me, good girl, keep being good f’me”, “told you y’could take another”
after a few final thrusts to push his cum deeper into you, he’s flipping your limp body onto your back, sweeping your hair from your warm and flushed face and pressing a few soft kisses to your puffy lips before moving down the bed to inspect your pussy again. jaemin never misses the opportunity to watch his thick cum drip out of you, collecting the juices making a mess around your swollen pussy lips on his fingers and pushing it back into you, which overstimulates you, making your tired legs shake
he’ll bring his sticky fingers to your lips, “ahh”, having you taste yourselves, and he loves laying like that for a while, watching your pretty lips suckle around his long fingers, your bare chest rising and falling slowly, your sleepy and fucked out eyes look up at him as his cum still leaks out of you onto the sheets
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markiemelon · 2 days
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double take
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genre . fluff
pairings . mark x gn!reader
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2:34 pm ─ ੈ♡˳
outside the mall, you stood waiting for your ride. and walking out of the mall, a boy was passing by. he caught your attention, so you stared. you didn’t do it very discretely, because he noticed, gave you a friendly smile, and continued walking.
you watched him walk off, but you looked away when you noticed him turning his head back to make a double take at you.
he quickly turned his head away once he noticed yours was turning back to look at him. It went on like this for a moment.
it excited you. were you his type? or did you have something on your face?
now he was turning around, making his way over to where you were standing.
he looked confident while approaching you, but he was a mess as soon as he opened his mouth. “uhh hi can i get your number? if you don't want to that's totally fine- i just-"
you smiled and held your hand out, as if saying 'yes, give me your phone, i'll put it in."
but he didn't really get it. he almost had it, but not quite. instead, he responded to your gesture with a high five. “so is that a yes?” that boy was smiling ear to ear.
you just went along with it. you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.
“um. yes.”
“oh cool.” he nodded. “here, you can type it in.” he handed you his phone, but you couldn’t help but laugh. he was cute. awkward, but cute.
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thx for reading 🌱 reqs always open
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mins-fins · 3 days
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orbit of yours !
"power couple, really?" "you have to listen to me!"
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synopsis: park jisung has always admired you. hardworking, effortlessly beautiful, talented, humble— you're pretty much the personification of the word 'perfect' (you would disagree though), but your relationship has never gotten past "admirers that occasionally exchange words", so jisung has vanquished the idea of possibly being in love with you because of your lack of interactions, he's just an avid admirer of yours! so when a few accidents and mishaps force (more like drive) the two of you to be in the same room more than you ever had in the past, the idea doesn't just remain a random fantasy crafted by jisung's mind, it becomes reality.
pairing: park jisung x male!reader
genre: high school au, acquaintances to friends to lovers, photographer!reader x soccer player!jisung, fluff, kinda comedy (im not funny), mutual pining, literally no angst, fast burn lowkey, sungchan helps reader realize his feelings and it's hilarious
warnings: swearing, mentions of burnout, oblivious bitches deny their feelings for a good 10k words, this is fucking cheesy, the nightmare which is senior year
word count: 12.2k
notes: GOOD LORD IT IS FINALLY DONE! i don't wanna be overdramatic or anything but this is genuinely one of my most favorite works ever, if you couldn't tell i am VERY jisung biased and im so happy to finally be done with this because it's honestly been so fun to write 🙁 i didn't beat the xiaojun fic in terms of words but this the second longest fic i have ever written and for my jisung debut its impressive that there is absolutely NO ANGST here, i'm just very proud of myself for this and i hope people like reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.. this is for all the park jisung lovers 👍
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"WHEN WILL YOU ACTUALLY GET A PARTNER?" chenle asks the question so many times that jisung assumes the sentence has been programmed into his brain. what is it— like the 3rd time this week? he thinks chenle might be more obsessed with his love life than he is with actual important things, like college, graduation preparations, his role as a member of the student council, anything but jisung's uneventful love life, because that was probably the least interesting thing going on in his own life at the moment. "come on jisungie! i heard aejung has a crush on you!" he lets out a familiar groan, giving his friends a 'cut it out' look. "i don't really care about that kind of stuff.."
he hears all the frustrated sighs from his friends, and jisung just chuckles. he knows about the many surprisingly many— people who find themselves attracted to him. he acknowledges the fact that he has a lot of admirers, that a lot of people would perceive themselves as lucky to be in a relationship with him, he isn't new to the idea at all, he doesn't really get what makes him so attractive, such an eyeopener to his fellow students, but he mostly accepts the gifts given to him by his so called "admirers" nonetheless, not wanting to make them disappointed.
now, he says mostly because there are just times where he has no choice but to turn them down. some people get into their own heads too much, and he doesn't want to give some of them false hopes by accepting their gifts. that happened once, where a girl thought the two of them were dating because he decided to accept her gift as a sign of appreciation, that's when jisung learned that he couldn't just accept any and all gifts given to him by admirers who so greatly wanted a chance with him. jisung isn't so concerned about gifts, he wants a person who will be psychically and emotionally present for him, not someone who'll just buy him random things.
"it's gotten a little annoying.. all the confessions" jisung mutters, closing the textbook he had been jotting in. "they're nice yeah but some people just take it too far" he finally finishes, earning some confused looks from his friends. he just shrugs, shoving the textbook he had previously been jotting in into his backpack.
"but you're just so boring!" chenle whines, pressing his cheek against jisung's shoulder. jisung doesn't even try shaking him off, knowing that any of his attempts will be useless. "come on! all these people who would love to be with you and your still a lonely little loser!"
"loser? oh come on!"
"you know i'm right!"
jisung scoffs, lightly shoving chenle. while yeah, it's nice to have a lot of people admire him, everyone expects him to do this and that and act a certain way. it's like they enjoy perpetuating a false image onto him rather than actually admiring him for who he really is, and jisung doesn't think he should give people like that the time of day, they piss him off more than anything.
he's a little lost in his thought when a familiar voice sounds in his ears, a couple of giggles following the sound. "you're too funny y/n!" one of them shouted, poking a familiar figure in the shoulder, and jisung's eyes fall on you immediately, as if on instinct. you were looking as you always did, a familiar dslr camera hanging from your neck, that polite smile on your face as your friend continues poking your shoulder.
lately, you'd been quite the topic of interest among your fellow schoolmates. now that's not abnormal at all, you somehow always manage to be the talk of the town in school, you could do the smallest thing and somehow people could still make huge talk about it.
jisung would never say it, not out loud or even in mutters to himself, but he's always held a unique admiration for you, one he doesn't think he could actually put into words. there's something about you that pulls jisung in, like your a magnet and he's an oblivious piece of metal, slowly getting closer and closer to you without being able to do anything about it.
everything about you is beautiful. your eyes are a beautiful brown color, your smile is a beautiful stretch that shows off your perfect white teeth, your hair is a beautiful mix of raven and brunette. oh, and your voice is so beautiful too, it's so soft, gentle, but also deep.
you're like an angel.
at least to jisung you are.
it's pretty funny, actually, your so wrapped up in your own things that you barely notice the sheer amount of people who want to date you. you don't acknowledge romantic advances a lot, and even when you do, it always ends in rejection. you talk a lot, and your words are always pure and witty, your laughter is natural, your smile is contagious.
but.. jisung doesn't like you. he only likes you in the friend kinda way, he just wants to be friends with you. you look nice! smell nice, dress nice, speak nice..
jisung knows a lot more about you than his friends do. despite the fact that the two of you have never officially deemed yourselves "friends", he's always known little facts about you, as you him. the two of you have been going to school together for seven years, so the idea of not knowing anything about each other seems ridiculous.
you're a photographer, your favorite color is blue, specifically lighter shades, your favorite subject is history, your lucky number is 2 because of your birthdate being 02/02/02, your favorite flowers are daisies, you don't really enjoy sports, but if you were to choose one to play, it'd be baseball, and you want to go to college for journalism.
but jisung can't say that he likes you, because even if you two know all these things about each other, you've never considered yourselves "friends", all you do is admire from afar—
and when you do interact, it's just short and sweet sentences exchanged between you two, mostly because the both of you are so busy, that you can't afford to just stop and talk. sometimes, jisung wishes his life was just a little less hectic and he could stop and talk to you, because that's what he wants to do.
"what's with you?" jisung immediately yelps as chenle flicks his forehead, and he resists the urge to punch the older in the face. "gawking at y/n? really?"
"i'm not—" jisung hates that he feels his face burn. "i'm not gawking, i'm just.. i was just looking at him".
"looking at him with hearts in your eyes".
jisung scoffs at chenle's audacity, as if he wasn't doing exactly that a good few minutes ago. he would never admit it out loud before, so why should he admit it now? he'd never live it down if anybody ever found out..
"you know.." chenle begins, tapping his finger onto the desk in front of him. "you two would be a great couple" and the words are enough to make jisung roll his eyes once again. "a power couple!"
"power couple, really?" jisung raises an eyebrow, chenle never fails to say something that confuses him. he finds the words to be ridiculous, but his reaction just seems to make chenle even more giddy, because he continues;
"you have to listen to me!" chenle persists, and jisung is about to check out of the conversation completely.
"y/n is a photographer for sports journalism, you play soccer, you've known each for what.. ever? he's pretty, you clearly have the hots for him—"
"i do not!" jisung immediately yells in rebuttal, much louder than he wanted to. "yeah he's.. cute but anyone with eyes can see that, i'm not in love with him or anything".
chenle raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but jisung remains stubborn, crossing his arms as he averts his gaze from his best friend.
yes, you are cute, anybody with two functioning eyes can see that.
"i think park jisung might have a crush on you".
at the words, you look up from your camera, meeting eyes with your close friend, sungchan. you blink, as if dumbfounded, then snicker. "park jisung? are you trying to boost my ego or something?"
you know park jisung, you know about how probably half the students in this room dream of having a chance with him. so many people like park jisung, so many people want park jisung.
and if you think about it, you can't exactly blame them for that..
"don't laugh! i'm serious! he looked like he was about to devour you, did you see his eyes!?"
the words just get another laugh out of you, the words seem ridiculous in your eyes, because why would park jisung, beautiful, talented, striking park jisung have a crush on you? in your eyes, your pretty much nothing to him.
"okay.. why would park jisung ever be interested in me?" you ask, rearranging your camera as you raise an eyebrow at sungchan, who simply deadpans at you, that familiar 'are you serious?' look in his eyes.
"okay let me see, your smart, pretty, everyone likes you at this point, also— the two of you are pretty much perfect for each other! you'd be a power couple!"
you furrow your eyebrows, a power couple? you'd never heard that phrase used to talk about somebody your friends had been "shipping" you with, your not even sure if you can even consider yourself friends with jisung, because the two of you can never actually talk to each other without someone coming up and interrupting the interaction.
you'd love to just be able to talk to park jisung, just the two of you, one on one.
"power couple? that's funny.."
"you think everything is funny" ironically, you laugh at your friends words. "this could be like— your only chance at having an actual romantic connection with someone".
"i don't care that much about romance, chan" you muse, humming as you turn off your camera. your eyes wander over to jisung, who is very much distracted by something stupid chenle is saying, he's laughing about something, laughing hard too.
there is no reason for him to look so pretty as he laughs like a maniac..
he's cute, you say in your mind, he is absolutely adorable.
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"WHAT DID YOU GUYS GET ON THAT STATISTICS TEST FOR SONG?" a boy from the same year and member of the soccer team along with jisung inquired. they sat on the bleachers in front of field, watching as the baton club practices. they have to practice this week, unfortunately, so jisung's schedule had become tight and packed, he barely had any free time these days, it was all exams, college tours, last minute extracurriculars, and practice, practice, practice. "i got a b plus" one of his classmates responds, the other responded; "i got a b on mine". jisung was very far removed from the current conversation, his eyes on a familiar trio of sports journalists on the other side of the field, a trio which included you, mesmerizing you. he sees you often these days, with that same dslr camera around your neck, a pretty smile stuck on your face.
"you, jisung! what score did you get?" one of his classmates asks, but jisung was occupied, so he didn't answer. a tap on his shoulder makes jisung snap out of his staring fit, and he blinks a few times, assessing where he is. "what?"
"we were asking about the marks on the recent statistics test!"
"ah" jisung presses his lips together. "i got an a plus" he says the words casually, but it causes for a cheer to be sounded by his fellow classmates, who shook him and slapped his back supportively.
"you're so smart jisungie!"
the praise from his classmates get a smile out of jisung, but he isn't focusing on that, his attention is on you. even with how your across the field, he can clearly see all of your features, the sun shining on your face makes you look majestic, like an actual angel, jisung isn't sure why he's even focusing so much on your face, but he can't focus on anything else, because his eyes just naturally always wander over to you.
"will this ever finish?" you inquire, pertaining to the baton club, who were still on the field even after they were supposed to get off. "i'm supposed to take photos of the soccer players for my editorials.." you mutter, it'd be horrible if you couldn't even deliver on the promise you made to your superiors.
"they're probably going to split the field" your fellow sports journalist, taehyun says. a small groan escapes your lips, you're annoyed, you hope this doesn't interfere with the photos you have to take, it'd be horrible if you just ended up doing the same thing all over again. "see? baton club is taking one side and the soccer team takes the main area because they need to start practicing now".
"they look so cute! i've always wanted to be apart of the soccer team!" lee sohee exclaims, and you turn towards him, a look of interest on your face. he attentively watches the boys, humming to the song that's playing. "why didn't you join them then?" you inquire, interest peaked.
sohee smiles at you, readjusting his camera and fixing his posture. "i enjoyed writing the editorial articles more" he shrugs. "wanted to try out but i missed the tryouts because eunseok hyung would have killed me if i missed anton's recital" at the words, you laugh, used to the behavior from the older boy.
"maybe next year".
"you'd fit in perfectly!" taehyun muses, and sohee brightens up, seemingly loving the words.
"really!? that's what seunghan tells me too!" he cheers at the words, looking proud of himself. "i'd look cute in that uniform though.."
you chuckle at sohee's word, finding him to be absolutely adorable. "yeah, you definitely would" you ruffle his hair, smiling at the giggle which sounds from the boy.
"i'm gonna go get a closer look at them" you say, motioning towards the soccer team. taehyun nods and watches as you get closer to the field, not super close, but close enough that your camera can capture a good view of the soccer team. you narrow your eyes, pointing your camera at the busy boys who are doing their usual routine, the viewfinder shows jisung in all his glory.
you take pictures, zooming in and out. you don't mean to put all the focus on jisung, he's just too alluring to not be the center of attention. he's such a natural, he's just so amazing, you can't not focus on him.
[click.]
and another shot, another one as jisung scores the goal. jisung's posture was perfect, his back straight, chin high as he wore an angelic smile. jisung hears the clicking of the camera, and looks to his left to see you, in the viewfinder you see jisung looking in your direction, you pause for a moment and notice a baton heading straight towards him.
"jisung watch out!" you yell, at the words, he tilts his head.
you quickly take the strap of the camera off your neck, throwing it until it landed right beside your fellow journalists, who looked as confused as jisung did. you ran as fast as you could, grabbing jisung's wrist and pulling him close to you.
the baton managed to hit the ground instead, and jisung shrieks as he loses his balance, toppling forward. he quickly grabs onto the closest thing to him.
you.
you lowered your arms to catch jisung, and you feel him hold onto the sleeves of your blazer, one of your arms on his stomach, the other on his waist. all his weight was in your arms, causing for you to lose balance too.
"shit—" you swear, falling onto your back. jisung fell on top of you, the grass tickling his skin. your back immediately hits the grass, and your head hits the ground softly, but your arms remain around jisung. jisung's hands were still on your arms, his upper body laid on top of yours, his head was buried into your shoulder, and he was sat in between your legs.
jisung takes a sharp breath, a look of worry quickly flashes in his eyes as he sees you. "holy shit y/n are you okay!?" jisung asks, pulling away from your prior position and you sit up, opening your eyes to meet his worried ones. jisung kneels, leaning closer to you as he cups your cheeks with his hands. "did you get hurt? is your head okay!?" he asks, or yells, turning your head to inspect for any signs of wounds. you just stare at him, his bangs that messily lay against his forehead, his eyes that glimmered under the sunlight, and his pink lips that you totally just want to lean over and touch with your own.
"yeah.." you whisper, your cheeks squished from the force of jisung's hands.
jisung stops turning your head and sighs. "are you sure?" he asks, still holding your face. you nod, placing one of your hands on jisung's, his are soft, yours are rough, you note. you move his hand and smile. "i'm alright don't worry" you respond, still holding jisung's hand. jisung pursues his lips, and he extends his hand out, pulling you up from the ground. you let go of his hand, dusting off your pants.
"jesus y/n" taehyun's voice sounds from behind you, and you finally glance away from jisung, eyes focused on your friend. "are you okay? your not injured are you?"
"i'm fine.." you mumble again, blinking as taehyun suddenly hands you your camera. ah, he'd picked it up for you. you take it, inspecting it to make sure it's not broken.
"is the camera okay?" jisung inquires, looking over your shoulder to stare at it.
luckily, it wasn't damaged because it had fallen on the soft grass. "it's still working" you respond, and the two boys beside you let out a sigh of relief, with taehyun placing a hand on his chest.
"jisung! come back here!" his coach quickly yells, jisung looks to you, then back to his teammates. "thanks, i owe you" he says before running back towards his group, fetching the soccer ball he'd left on the ground prior.
"wow your like a hero!" sohee exclaims, shaking your shoulder with a smile. you just let out a nervous laugh, scratching your arm. you give one last glance at jisung before you feel your face heat up excessively, so you quickly turn away, putting your camera back around your neck.
"we should go back in now" you say, you don't say any more words as you quickly make your way towards the doors. your friends blink, exchanging glances in confusion, but they quickly follow you back inside.
"y/n! wait up!"
jisung watches you three leave, feeling his heart racing against his chest.
what the hell just happened? he asks himself.
"jisung are you okay!?" a very familiar voice shrieks. jisung turns to meet his fellow teammate jooyeon, looking concerned as ever.
"i'm alright, thanks for asking" he answers, gaze lowering down to his nails, which he quickly starts picking.
"are you sure? you looked like you hit your head pretty hard" the younger boy, as always, just wants to make sure jisung isn't lying, he's genuine like that. he pokes jisung's forehead, as if he was inspecting him.
"seriously, i'm fine" jisung lowers his hand, giving him his default 'i'm okay' smile. "y/n cushioned the blow anyway.."
"you were so close to him!" jisung startles as keum donghyun comes out of nowhere. "how did it feel? was it like a dream come true?"
"i—" jisung is speechless, he closes his mouth and blinks a good seven times before even actually assessing the question.
how did it feel?
jisung doesn't know how to express it. he didn't want to think about it in that way because you'd just done such a good deed, you saved him from flying metal going straight towards his head, he shouldn't have been thinking about the lack of distance between you two, he shouldn't have been staring at your lips, and he shouldn't have been thinking about kissing you.
his face must be so unbearably red right now.
"don't ask that! it was just very abrupt.. also, i can't think of him like that! he saved me from a flying baton, i'm just grateful for him".
jooyeon hums in agreement, slapping donghyun's shoulder for him ever asking such a thing. "that's right, you should probably get him a token of appreciation or something".
jisung blinks, trying to imagine what he should ever gift you. he truly has no idea, he's not sure if he should go over and beyond, or just give you a little gift as to not intimidate you. "i can't really think of anything, i don't want to overwhelm him or something, he just wanted to do a nice thing.."
"i'm sure he'll be appreciative of anything!"
at the words, jisung just sighs, smiling.
what a hero, l/n y/n— you really are something, he thinks.
"yeah— i'll think about it".
"good! back to practice now!"
jisung doesn't think he will ever fully be able to focus on practice, though.
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"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN RAN OVER BY A TRAIN" the words from the older boy, yang jeongin, snap you out of your polaroid staring daze. you flinch just the slightest, eyes peeling away from the scattering pictures which litter your desk. you rub your eyes, clearing your throat as you quickly gather all of the photos on your desk, hoping the eye bags present on your face weren't completely obvious. knowing jeongin though, they were definitely obvious. "thanks for the kind words" you respond sarcastically, a small eye roll accompanying your words. the older boy snickers, situating himself beside you, a teasing smile on his face. he props his legs up, blinking at you. "seriously though, you look like you haven't slept in years, are you alright?"
"i'm as alright as someone looking to pursue journalism can be.." you mutter back, placing the photos which were previously on your desk into your backup, a small sigh escapes your lips. "all of my applications are still pending.."
"seriously? i assume you would've been accepted into any of those schools by now!"
"you know how it all goes, they get hundreds— heck, thousands of applications every day, i just have to be patient".
jeongin raises an eyebrow, then just shrugs at you, humming. "there's no need to worry, y/n, you'll get into a good school".
you chuckle at his words, he totally read your mind when it came to that. "i'm not worried about anything" you lie; "i'll be okay, i know".
but do you?
your absolutely tired the whole entire day, you tried your best to focus in your classes, but you couldn't help your head slipping down and the way you almost slipped off to dreamland whilst your teachers were asking you very much audible questions.
"did you sleep last night?" sungchan asks you in the middle of your afternoon break, poking your arm as if to wake up. "you look like a zombie.."
"i slept a few.. hours?" your tone is very much a questioning one, as if you didn't even believe your own words. "i don't know, i was too busy fighting with lin, apparently i'm not good enough at what i do to consider journalism".
paired with the lack of response to your several applications, you weren't having the best week, it was all becoming just a little too much for you.
graduation is just too far away..
"anyway! did you choose the photos you'll put in the editorial yet?"
you think, for a while. you felt as if you had stared at so many polaroids by this point, that they're probably going to start appearing in your dreams, with the lack of sleep, constant flashing of cameras and just news news news, you've really had no time to focus on other things.
"i haven't even found time to think about the editorial" you whine, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you think about how pissed off your higher up is gonna be if you almost miss the deadline once again. "is the deadline coming up?"
"well— is four days a close deadline for you?"
you gasp, loudly, almost throwing your camera across the hallway. "four days!? four days until the deadline seriously!?"
you usually aren't like this. you are usually very calm, cool, and collected, but your week has been just the definition of a shit storm, and everything just seems getting worse and worse.
"hey, it's okay!" sungchan immediately replies, hoping to reassure you. he places a hand on your shoulder, a smile coming to his face. "it's not like this is anything new, it'll all be fine, you only have to choose two pictures anyway".
you sigh, rubbing your temples. "yeah" you breath. "it'll be fine, fine" you repeat, nodding your head as you relax yourself.
the hallway is crowded, not crowded crowded, but crowded enough that you couldn't help but begin counting the heads around you.
your eyes get stuck on a familiar figure across the hall.
park jisung, smiling and laughing with his friends. you get lost in a trance of admiring him, even though you can clearly hear sungchan talking to you. all your attention is immediately on him, and a small smile spreads across your face as you observe him, being himself.
there is absolutely no reason for him to be so breathtaking while just talking with his friend!
you are so distracted, and you don't mean to get stuck in this little reverie as you stare at the boy that you totally do not have a crush on.
he hasn't really left your mind, instead of just floating around in there like he'd been before that whole prior incident, now he occupies a whole subsection of your mind in recent days. you could be with your other friends, and all of a sudden your mind would wander off to jisung, or you could be in class and he just pops into your head.
you never thought you'd be one to get distracted easily, but you've clearly been proven wrong by just the alluring aura of park jisung.
you startle when jisung turns your way, making eye contact with you. he smiles upon noticing you, his eyes practically lighting up, and he waves at you. your a little taken aback, but jisung doesn't wait to see you wave back, just turning back towards his friend and continuing his previous conversation.
"what was that?"
"what was what?"
you quickly look over at sungchan, who had just witnessed that whole entire scene. he looks at you like you just grew a second head, and your face begins to burn as the realization dawns on you.
"you and park jisung!?"
your quick to try and sputter out a response, but you shake your head, face excessively heating up, it's probably red at this very moment. "there is nothing going on between us!"
"that doesn't seem like nothing!"
you realize how guilty you look right now. with your red face and constant insistence that there is absolutely nothing going on, those are traits the guiltiest of people display, and it all just makes you look even more guilty with how your face gets even more red.
(you must look like you're dying right now).
"it's just a friendly exchange!"
"not while your looking at him with hearts in your eyes!"
he was completely calling you out, and he was right. you were staring at jisung like he was an angel that had graced your presence, you stare at him like he's a saint and everyone else doesn't matter, as if he's the only person in the room. "i— i wasn't! i was just zoned out and he just waved at me to say hi!"
sungchan narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, totally not buying it. "uh huh, sure" his voice conveys disbelief. "just know, i'm onto you y/n".
you nudge him in the shoulder, seriously wanting to change the topic. "yeah yeah whatever" you cross your arms as you mutter the words, you're sure if you take one more glance at jisung, you won't be able to look away, so you just clear your throat and walk the other way, face still red as sungchan teases you the whole entire time.
maybe if you glanced back, you'd see jisung watching as you left..
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JISUNG WAS REALLY HOPING HE'D BE ABLE TO catch you before school dismissed. you two haven't genuinely had an actual talk since you saved him from the flying baton heading straight towards his head. all you two have done is give smiles, waves, and mutter small greetings to each other in the hallway. he had to admit, it upset him in just the slightest, because he really did want to just have a conversation with you (of course, he isn't exactly sure he'd be able to get through a conversation with you without blushing like a madman anyway), but your schedules just kept conflicting, so even catching a glimpse of you around the campus has become difficult for him to do.
he doesn't want to waste any opportunity he has in his hands—
"y/n!"
when jisung sees you across the hall, he realizes that he shouldn't take this chance for granted. you turn around at the call of your name, smiling as you see the others making his way towards you. jisung runs a hand through his hair, hoping he isn't making anything awkward. "jisung hi, do you need something?"
you smile politely at him, a smile so beautiful it seems like it could get rid of all the problems in the world. jisung loves your smile, he could stare at it for hours, is that creepy? he hopes it's not creepy..
"oh uh—" the words he'd been planning to say somehow get caught in his throat, but he clears his throat and proceeds. "i was wondering if i could walk you home?"
you blink, puzzled by the question. why would he want to walk you home? your mind begins to wander, trying to figure out why he'd want to do such a thing.
can't you just ask y/n? stop being an idiot..
"why?"
you don't mean for your words to come out that way, and you're almost afraid that you made jisung uncomfortable with your tone of voice, but he instead just smiles, squashing any of your bad thoughts. you love jisung's smile, you think it's underrated, so little people talk about it and the fact shocks you, you could probably compliment his smile for hours—
but that sounds just a little creepy.
"i just want to accompany you—" —and this is my only excuse to be around you— "do something nice for you after you did something nice for me".
the words make you pause. he's just.. so thoughtful huh? you've never heard of someone wanting to repay you for being nice, it's actually a little strange if you think about it.
"jisung you don't have to reward me for doing something nice.."
"it'd be great to walk with you, though, you make good company".
that's it? that's really it?
you're not sure why you're surprised about that, maybe it's just the idea that he literally searched for you just to say this, he truly just wants to walk you home, he truly just wants to spend time with you.
he thinks i make good company, just the thought alone is enough to make you giggle in your head. your inner thoughts sound ridiculous, but you can't help them.
"if you don't want me to it's totally oka—"
"no no no" you immediately cut into his sentence, hoping that didn't come off as desperate as it sounded. "i'm glad you offered to walk me home, i'd love to walk with you too".
you unsuccessfully try to mutter those last few words, a sudden shyness taking over you. jisung smiles, glad, no, elated at your agreement. he doesn't know why he's that happy, but he hopes it isn't clear and evident, he'd never live it down.
after bidding a goodbye to your friends, and telling sungchan you'd make sure to choose the photos for your editorials, you dragged jisung out of the school doors, much to your and jisung's surprise, as well as the shock of a few of your classmates, he made sure to eye the both of you suspiciously.
"what interested you in photography?"
a scene like this is something jisung thought he'd never get to, being able to talk to you, one on one. just the two of you sharing a simple conversation is what he's wanted for an uncharted amount of time, even with how straightforward it is, the two of you could never really find time to converse normally.
when jisung asks the question, you almost think you heard him wrong. he genuinely wants to know? in a way, you feel like you've always been just the slightest bit boring, yeah you wanna do journalism and love taking aesthetically pleasing photos but you've never considered what you do to be a talent by any means.
you pick at your fingers, looking down at the ground instead of at jisung. "it's an interest i picked up from my mother, i've always been shocked how she could just do that, you know? i love videography and stuff like that as well, i love how one can capture so much with just a single camera".
your words intrigue jisung, and he listened the whole entire way, not interrupting you once. he found a smile crossing his face at the clear display of passion for your creative work, he loves the way you put it into words. god if he didn't admire you before, he surely did now.
"what about you? you're pretty much good at everything, what drew you to the adrenaline rushing excitement of soccer?"
jisung pauses, allowing himself to let out a small snicker at the question. "i don't really enjoy soccer".
you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"
jisung laughs again, your tone of voice amusing him. "don't say it like that.. it's not that i hate it, i'm just not as into it like everyone expects me to be, i got onto the school team and i've been stuck there ever since" there isn't exactly distaste in jisung's tone, he just states it casually, like how it is. his voice is just simple, mundane, he doesn't dislike soccer, it's just not what he's looking forward to do.
you love his honesty.
"i'm into other things in a much more passionate sense, like dance, soccer is just a hobby" he finally finishes, pulling his sleeves over his arms as he avoids eye contact with you.
"so no professional soccer player park jisung?"
"i think i'll leave it to the other guy to be known for that".
you chuckle at his words, okay, he's funny (you knew that already, you just had to reiterate it in your head). god how can a guy be so perfect? you get why people are so into jisung, he's charming even without trying. you feel like the luckiest guy on earth knowing he asked to walk you home.
"y/n, i'm a very.." jisung pauses, as if trying to articulate the words he was about to say. "i really admire you a lot".
you almost lose it.
park jisung, beautiful, talented, hardworking park jisung admires you? he is an admirer of yours? you don't even know what to say, you try your best to sputter out a response but your brain is practically malfunctioning. your face goes red, and you go silent for a few minutes.
"i don't get it" is what you say, and jisung just cocks his head towards the side, observing you. "what's so admirable about me?"
"do you want a list?"
oh i'd love that. "i don't think you should waste your time".
"i wouldn't be wasting my time" jisung smiles, his gaze focused on you and only you, there's a way he's looking at you that keeps you still, unable to look away from him. "i never get the chance to tell you, i'd love to talk about everything i admire about you".
when did jisung get so bold? he'll never know where this random confidence came from, but he has an opportunity, he can't let it go to waste. he has to bring it up to you.
"what i do is nothing incredible—"
"i would disagree".
you should be angry that jisung interrupted you, but you found yourself smiling at his words. he's so generous, he doesn't have to tell you this, he doesn't have to compliment you like this, but he's doing it on his own accord, he wants to.
"okay then.. is it a good time to tell you that i also feel the same?"
jisung's ears go red, so red that it looks like smoke is gonna start pouring out of them. he is shocked, absolutely speechless. you admire him? does that mean he's gotten it all wrong these past few years? does that mean you return his feelings as well—
wait what?
"oh really?"
the prior confidence jisung had when telling you about his admiration has now all fizzled away, his voice almost cracks as he tries to register your words, and thank god it doesn't.
"it's kind of like what you said, you're amazing, a very admirable person, i know you don't really think of yourself like that but i do, and it's nice to be able to tell you up front".
jisung remains silent, but you don't mind, you just give him a smile and continue walking forward, allowing for him to catch up to you.
"is that actually true?"
"why would i lie to you?" you turn around, your whole body facing him. you begin walking backwards and wait for jisung's reply to your question. "don't give me that look".
jisung frowns, a playful one, he sends you a cute little glare that makes you giggle. he's absolutely adorable, you think in your head, he's the cutest person ever right now.
"you admire me?"
"yep".
"more than i admire you?"
"definitely, and don't even try to argue with me".
jisung opens his mouth to do exactly that, but you stop, turning around as you make it to the front of your house. "okay well, thank you for walking me home, ji".
jisung raises an eyebrow, noting down the nickname in his head. it's a common nickname, but he loves the way it sounds coming from you, he loves that you didn't just drop his full name.
"it's no problem.."
"i—"
you're cut off by the sound of the door opening, and your met with the face of your mother, whose face immediately brightens at the sight of you. you smile at her, and jisung just kinda stands there awkwardly.
"hi honey" she wraps her arms around you, and you let her, leaning your head onto her shoulder. "i thought you were staying late today?"
you shake your head. "not today, it's friday remember?"
"ohhh, yeah".
jisung glances down at the ground, playing with his feet. he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't want to interrupt the conversation you're having with your mother—
but he doesn't have to say anything, because your mother pipes up.
"oh! and who might this be?" she narrows her eyes at jisung, cogs in her brain seem to turn but then she snaps his fingers and gasps, seemingly getting it. "oh my god! park jisung?"
jisung smiles, a little laugh escaping his lips. "that is me".
"holy, you've changed so much? the last time i saw you you were barely up to my knees!"
at the sound of your mothers words, you give jisung a teasing stare, one which he quickly turns away from. "you and y/n are finally friends? i was wondering when it'd happen.."
your face goes bright red at the words, and an awkward chuckle escapes your lips. "seems he was too, he always talked about it—"
"haha! what!? that's hilarious mom!" you quickly cut in, not wanting her to talk about your former ramblings about park jisung, park jisung who was right beside you. "yeah okay, jisung i'll see you monday?"
jisung nods, a little too desperately for his liking, luckily you don't notice. "yeah, monday, have a good weekend, y/n".
you smile, blood rushing through your cheeks. "be safe".
he gives a small wave and turns around, beginning the walk back towards his home.
"he's such a nice kid, you sure you're just friends?"
your jaw pretty much drops, and you give your mother a look you don't think you've ever shared with her before. "yes! just friends!"
"hmm, sure".
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"WHO ARE THOSE FOR?" CHENLE asks as he immediately notices the goodies in jisung's hands. he raises an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend, examining the bouquet of flowers and box jisung held. jisung ignores him for a couple of minutes, placing the box in his locker and closing it behind him. "for someone" he just replies, hoping he could just remain vague instead of telling chenle about his true plans. the older narrows his eyes, clearly curious about this 'someone'. he flicks jisung in the forehead, resulting in a yelp from the other, who glares. "ow! what was that for?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing his forehead, a frown now coming to his face.
"what you're hiding stuff from me now?" chenle rolls his eyes at jisung's frown. "who are those flowers for? you got a boyfriend or something?"
chenle was right in assuming it was a boy that was making him go crazy, but you aren't his boyfriend (not yet at least, he's trying, really). he doesn't want to exactly divulge his plans to his nosy best friend yet, just because he'd go around telling everybody he could about what jisung was doing, he didn't want anything to be spoiled.
"they're for.. y/n".
jisung winces the moment he says those words, because chenle goes absolutely crazy.
"FOR WHO!?"
jisung is quick to slap a hand over chenle's mouth, glaring at him for how loud he said those words. "could you be any more obvious?" he asks, gritting his teeth as he continues to glare at his shorter best friend, whose eyes just widen even more. "yes they're for y/n—"
"what are you two dating now?" chenle doesn't care about anything jisung has to say, he slaps his hand away and stares in interest, wanting to know more.
"no! were not dating! it's just—" jisung pauses, how is he even gonna explain this without looking super guilty? blood rushes through his cheeks as he thinks about it, about how these are your favorite flowers, about how you might react. "i wanted to get him something nice! he did a good thing and.."
and i am just so in love with him, i think i might be going insane.
"i just want to do something nice!"
"okay but are you doing something nice or are you getting ready to ask him out?"
jisung's face goes a dangerously red color, and he immediately shakes his head, denial coursing through his veins. "i'm not going to ask him out, i mean— i get why you think that but it's not what it looks like!"
chenle raises an eyebrow, staring at his totally lovestruck best friend. "it sure does seem to be what it looks like".
"chenle—"
"look, jisung, there's no need to deny that you have such an obvious crush on y/n" chenle states like it's a matter of a fact, because it is, they both know it very well, he's better at assessing jisung's feelings than jisung himself is. "he thinks your cute, you think he's cute, you two just need to ask each other out".
"um.." jisung presses his lips together, the two falling into a weird silence. he clutches the daisies in his hands, thinking about you, but he shuts off his thoughts to respond to chenle's little analysis of him.
"i just don't know where we stand, i mean we're barely even friends".
"you two are pretty much already more than friends considering he can't talk to you without looking like he's about to devour you whole".
jisung's face must be an astonishing shade of red right now. "it's not—! i don't know how to explain it okay!?"
"yeah and how are you gonna explain the flowers?" chenle points at the daisies jisung is practically squeezing to death. "other people are probably gonna get another idea".
"well i'll let them think what they want" jisung responds, his only focus is you, who cares what other people think? your his main priority. "y/n is my main focus, i don't care about what other people are saying".
chenle chuckles at his response, oh park jisung is so down bad, he's so in love with you, a kind of love chenle has never seen him have for another person. yes park jisung, love avoiding extraordinaire, is head over heels in love with a boy, chenle cannot believe it.
"okay jisung, go ahead with your wooing y/n mission or something".
at least chenle is supportive.
jisung has to go through so many interrogations to explain to your fellow photographers why he's giving you flowers, while a few of them just shrug and get it, the rest of them make sure to eye him suspiciously while he goes on with his explanation and bright red ears.
he knows most of them probably won't keep their mouths shut, and jisung knows that you told him he shouldn't get you anything for preventing him from getting any future brain damage, but jisung disagrees, he thinks you deserve gifts.
"who are those for?"
your brain doesn't register the flowers, or the connection that they have with your not-so-secret admirer, you just stare at them puzzled. "they're for you!" sohee yells from somewhere else in the room, focused on another important thing.
your eyebrows furrow, and you blink as you stare at the daisies on the table. daisies are your favorite flowers, but everyone knows that! these could be from anyone! you're no stranger to getting random gifts from people, so these could really be from anyone.
but you only have a certain person in mind..
"from who?" you ask, but you really already know who, considering the knowing look sohee sends to you.
"jisung".
of course, you say in your head, your fingers trace the packaging of the bouquet, admiring the pretty flowers before you (the pretty flowers given to you by a pretty boy), a small smile comes to your face as you think about it. you told jisung not to get you anything, but he obviously wasn't going to listen to you, he's made that very clear.
"did he tell you anything?"
sohee doesn't spare you another glance, but you can just tell he's grinning like a madman with the way he's clearly trying to hold in his laughter. "he just told me to make sure to get them to you, he was very insistent".
the teasing tone of your friends voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, and your barely able to stifle your laugh, not at sohee exactly, but at jisung's actions.
of course he didn't listen when you said for him to not get you anything, he remembered what your favorite flowers are, did he spend his weekend thinking about it? you wonder what kind of florists we must've went to.. your mind races with just jisung thoughts, and you're just so lost in them that you don't realize your zoning out.
oh park jisung, why do you have to be so sweet?
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"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO?" YOU immediately ask the moment you come across park jisung in the hallway. the boy blinks, smiling at the sight of you, his face practically brightens at the sight of you. "what do you mean?" he inquired innocently, a small tilt of his head adding to his question. you send him a glare, not a serious one, but it's still a glare. you can't even believe his audacity, for him to look at you with such beautiful eyes, make your knees feel weak without even having to do anything? park jisung is just such a crazy man, you don't know if you can stare at him any longer, you might end up passing out from heat exhaustion (the heat from your face, of course, something that's become so normal for you when around park jisung).
"don't 'what do you mean?' me, i told you not to get me anything!" you complain, lightly shoving jisung's shoulder. "seriously, i said it was fine.." you mumble those words, but jisung just smiles.
"i wanted to get you something anyway, i needed to show you my appreciation somehow".
but just your admiration is enough appreciation for me, just you being around is enough, just you is enough.
your own thoughts weird you out on occasions.
"i told you not to—"
"but i wanted to, it's fine y/n, seriously, just accept my gesture".
you bite your inner cheek, he just always has to be nice, doesn't he? your cheeks flare up and you swear your face goes a shade of red you've never seen before, how does one boy even affect you like this? you don't think you've ever acted like this around any of your other admirers ever..
"ah" a small smile comes to your face. "thank you" you whisper, you're not sure why you get so shy all of a sudden.
"it's no problem" jisung responds, a smile coming to his face. he closes the door to his locker, and then leans onto it. "walk with me?"
you blink, jisung really likes walking with you, huh? is this gonna become your thing? you wouldn't really mind when you think about it.. you enjoy walking with jisung, you just enjoy any time you can spend with jisung.
"what's with you and asking to walk with me?"
"walking with you is just.. nice".
"do i ease your stresses or something?"
your tone is meant to come off as teasing, and your question is mostly unserious, you don't register how you sound like your flirting with jisung, probably because everything just feels so natural with jisung, you love how you feel around him, it's confusing to explain.
"i guess you could say that" jisung's response snaps you out of your jisung focused thoughts, thoughts which are difficult to not get stuck in considering park jisung is constantly occupying your mind these days. "anyway, can you walk with me?"
you pause, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. you have class in twenty minutes, and you don't really want to walk back all the way with only five minutes left to make it to class. "i don't know.. chen might kill me".
"please?"
that catches you off guard, you seemingly forget how to think for a second. jisung really wants to walk with you so bad, he's reverting to that easily convincing voice of his? you'd be an idiot to say no, you'd be an idiot to deny anything given to you by park jisung, you sigh in your head.
"okay, fine".
a smile of victory places itself on jisung's face, and he takes your hand, to your own surprise, as the two of you begin making your way down the hall. you wanna bring it up, but you don't want him to let go of you, so you don't. your face goes a bright shade of red, jisung doesn't seem to mind, or maybe he's always wanted to hold your hand, you aren't sure.
you focus way too much on it, on the way it feels, how jisung's soft hands contrast your rough ones, how warm his hands are, you don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go. god, you feel like such a loser, freaking out over a boy holding your hand.
but it's not just a boy, it's park jisung, park jisung makes you feel things you thought you'd never feel before..
"why do you seem so worried?" jisung chuckles, his hand holding yours. he nudges your shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow.
"because, i don't wanna be late".
jisung snickers, not making fun of you, though, he hopes you don't think that. "have you never skipped a class before?"
your eyes widen as large as saucers, model student park jisung has skipped classes? a small chuckle escaped your lips. "no, i could never bring myself to, it always made me feel strange.."
now it's jisung's turn to look surprised, you laugh again, why does he assume you skip classes? or have even attempted to skip? you wonder what goes through his mind. "are you serious? you've never tried to skip before?"
you scoff, pinching his arm. "i tried to once in the sixth grade because of a dare from friends, but i literally couldn't do it, they called me a wimp for the rest of the year".
"aww sad".
"don't give me your fake pity, also— you've skipped class before!?"
jisung chuckles at your surprise, giving a small smile. "it was a few times as a sophomore, some classes are just so boring i can't resist".
"wow, model student park jisung skips his classes? i cannot believe the information that has been bestowed upon me".
the words, paired with your sarcastic tone made jisung let out yet another snicker, he hopes he's not overdoing it in your eyes, you're genuinely just a very funny person. "oh no! don't use this secret to tarnish my pristine reputation!"
"you're such an idiot".
a cute idiot.
"be quiet, you still love me" jisung rebuts, adding a small nudge to your shoulder along with his words.
it's weird to say, but you like this. even with your totally non-romantic feelings for jisung, you find this nice. is this what dating him would be like? you get to hold hands and joke around in the halls without a care in the world? you think you'd enjoy that, you'd enjoy dating park jisung.
wait what?
you snap out of your thoughts when jisung stops, so you stop too. he lets go of your hand, and you resist the urge to frown, because you don't want to come off as desperate. (but you are desperate, you're so desperate, having park jisung hold your hand was so nice, you want him to hold it again).
"this is my stop, thank you for my walking with me".
the words are simple, basic, but you find your face heating up at them anyway. you clear your throat, not wanting to stay silent any longer. "it was no problem, i couldn't disagree anyway".
jisung laughs, he is so pretty, so pretty without even having to do anything significant. "of course you couldn't" he looks down at his feet. "anyway! have a good day y/n, don't be late to your next class!"
you blink as you watch jisung walk into the auditorium for his next class, you watch as he walks away, standing there for what seems like forever. how could a guy, just a guy affect you so much? what is it with park jisung and making you stop in your tracks? he's mesmerizing, just so easily draws you in.
your eyes widen as you realize the time, you're going to be late for your next class, mr. chen is going to kill you!
and as you totally sprint down the hallway to get to your next class, your mind is racing with thoughts of park jisung the entire time.
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"AM I NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND?" YOU CAN practically hear the pout in sungchan's voice as he said those words. you place the extra polaroids on your desk, then glance up at your friend, who stares at you with an expression of defeat on his face. you raise an eyebrow, puzzled at what the actual hell he's talking about, he's always just bringing stuff up so randomly, you can't even keep up with what he's referring to now. sungchan just frowns, letting out a groan of frustration as plops down beside you, a small huff adding to his words. you chuckle at the way he decides to present himself, and he groans once again, very frustrated. "where is this coming from?"
"why didn't you tell me about you and jisung".
you pause, an expression of surprise comes to your face, your face which heats up astonishingly quickly. "me and jisung? me and jisung what? we aren't—"
"y/n there's no point in denying it, everyone already knows".
"everyone already knows what?"
"that you and jisung have a thing, it's fine if you don't wanna tell everyone but excluding me? your best friend in the whole entire world from the news?"
"jisung and i aren't dating!" you say immediately, clasping your hands together as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. why do people even think that? yeah you like park jisung but how did people even reach the conclusion that you were dating? you're not even sure if jisung returns your feelings. "i don't even know where people got that idea.."
"so your constant yearning stares and pitched up giggles are all not apart of that?"
"i don't—" you are definitely showcasing all guilty characteristics, your red face, your shrill voice, and your very obvious lying, sungchan sees right through you, anyone would be able to. "yearning stares are stupid i don't do that!"
"yeah, sure y/n" sungchan sighs, and you groan, screaming into your pillow. "i'm not trying to be mean or anything, but it's disgustingly obvious that you're into jisung, and i mean in a cringy way".
you gasp in offense, turning away from your best friend. you want to remain stubborn, but you can't, of course you can't, how can you even deny your feelings for jisung anymore if other people can now tell that you like him? your face heats up in embarrassment, and you cover your face with your hands. "is it really that obvious?" you mutter, hoping the answer isn't what you think it is.
"yeah, very, i wouldn't even be surprised if the two of you were actually dating and this was a little trick of yours".
sungchan points at you, an accusatory look in his eyes, but he immediately lets it go, because he knows you, and he can tell that you are telling the truth. you don't even have the courage to look at him, still covering your face with your hands. "have you not told jisung how you feel yet?"
your silence tells sungchan everything he needs to know, and the look he gives you is absolutely criminal.
"YOU HAVEN'T!?"
"i haven't found any time too!"
"how much time have you been spending around jisung these days!? you haven't even tried to bring it up to him!"
you let yourself fall to the side, half your body hanging off your bed. "i don't know how to" you whine, mind immediately rushing to thoughts of park jisung, thoughts you probably shouldn't be having. "it's awkward!"
"well i'm sure jisung feels the same with the way he always has to resist the urge to kiss you in the hallway".
"with the way he WHAT!?"
the words are enough to make you rise from your formerly fallen state, a look of astonishment on your face. did jisung really return your feelings? or was sungchan just trying to start something that would end up absolute humiliation?
"y/n, not trying to be rude or anything, but it's so obvious that jisung wants to date you, he doesn't even have to say it for everyone to know!"
you feel like you just discovered the secrets of the universe with those words, park jisung likes you? like likes you likes you? once the realization dawns on you, you gasp loudly.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS SUCH AN IDIOT UGH!"
sungchan watches you freak out, he truly can't believe that he had to tell you for all of it to finally set in.
it's actually pretty funny, and he snickers as he watches you go absolutely ballistic.
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"HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" JISUNG ASKS the first recognizable person he sees in the hallway. he hasn't seen any seniors anywhere for a while, but that's because the days keep getting warmer, meaning graduation keeps getting closer, most of the seniors only take two classes and then go on to do their extracurriculars, so they don't really have to spend the whole entire day at school, but it's weird today because he usually always sees you, even when he isn't purposefully looking for you (which has become a common thing for him to do, he's just loves the time he can spend with you). he hopes you aren't absent, because today is friday, and if he doesn't tell you his important news now he's going have to wait an extra two days.
"y/n? uh..." the unfamiliar boy pauses for a moment, as if thinking, and jisung is hoping that it isn't the worst, because he really needs you to be here today. "well i'm not sure where he is actually! probably with his other photographers".
"but he's here right?" jisung doesn't care if he comes off as desperate, his only focus is you, you are his main priority, he doesn't care about the impression he's making on others, he can truly only think about you at the moment.
"yeah! i'm just not sure where exactly!"
"okay thank you!"
the guy gives him a strange look, a mix of teasing and giddy, but jisung walks off too fast to see it, he's set on finding you. he doesn't exactly know where he's supposed to go, he's just hoping to somehow spot you and be able to get you alone.
"what are you rushing for?" chenle comes out of nowhere, noticing jisung's urgency and the way he's clearly focused on something specific strikes him as odd, but he already has an idea of what's making jisung so fidgety. "you're gonna confess your love to y/n or something?"
"yes, actually i am chenle, it'd be great if i could find him, though".
maybe it's jisung's surprising honesty, or the way his main priority is you. chenle finds it amusing how quick the switch flipped, but it's also kind of cute. the usual pessimist, mr 'i don't really care about love' park jisung is down bad for a boy, it's adorable. "have you tried the photography room?"
"where do you think i'm heading?"
chenle chuckles at jisung's attitude, simply smiling and pulling his cheek. "alright then! don't forget to tell me how it goes!"
jisung doesn't spare chenle another glance, just turns back around and focuses on the task at hand, finding you and telling you how he feels.
jisung wonders how you'll react, based on what he's seen, it's not completely guaranteed that you'll reject him, it's probably more likely that you return his feelings rather than don't. does that make him horrible? thinking because you've exhibited the traits of someone who has a crush that you have a crush on him?
maybe you don't like him and he's letting it all get to his head, it all just seems too good to be true.
jisung doesn't even have to go all the way to the photography room, because he bumps right into you whilst on his way there, and a small yelp escapes your lips. "oh my god.. sorry!"
jisung cannot contain his excitement, and his nervousness. there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about, this is y/n. kind, understanding, charming y/n, it's not like he's going to scream at you for telling him you like him. it’ll all be fine.
"it's alright" you whisper, shaking your head for a moment. "i was looking for you" you immediately say, not allowing for jisung to speak before you.
jisung's eyes widen. you were looking for him? it makes his brain go haywire, figurative cogs in his head turning. "that's ironic, i was looking for you too".
jisung swears he can see the red coloring on your cheeks, but he doesn't say anything about it.
"i have to tell you something".
the two of you say that sentence in unison, the same amount of anxiety coursing through your veins, the same red hue on your cheeks, the same look of surprise in your eyes. "you can go first" you whisper, picking at your fingers, you aren't exactly sure if you want to hear what he's about to say.
"are you sure? it seems you have something more important to say.."
"it's fine! really, i can just say it after yo—"
"i'm in love with you".
the words strike you like a punch to the gut, a slap to the face. your stomach drops, your face is burning horribly, and your legs feel like they're about to give in. you cannot believe it, you hope you don't pass out, you hope you don't just die right here, that'd be so embarrassing.
park jisung is in love with you. beautiful, talented, model student park jisung who you've never truly known how you felt about is in love with you. you are so happy, giddy, and it disgusts you, but the disgust is quickly replaced by the feeling of joyousness. park jisung is in love with you, he feels the same way.
"jisung, i'm—"
"it's okay if you don't return my feelings i just wanted to tell you!" is that really what he thinks? that you don't love him back? he must be crazy, you've only ever exhibited reciprocal feelings. "i'll be off now!"
"no! don't go!" you grab jisung's wrist before he can walk away. smart move y/n, you're acting so natural right now. "i just, i return your feelings! i just don't know how to explain it, also my hands are very sweaty right now and i feel gross.."
you let go of jisung's wrist and feel your face get unbearably hotter. it's embarrassing, you feel so embarrassed, but it's park jisung, and jisung just stares at you lovingly. you're so cute, how did it take him this long to tell you how he felt?
"you're so cute".
jisung doesn’t even realize he says the words until you give him that look, and your red face just makes him giggle more. "this isn't— that is not fair! i was supposed to confess first!"
"you're the one who told me to go first!"
"i didn't know you were going to tell me you liked me! i prepared a whole sentence for you and everything!"
you whine, covering your red face with your hands. jisung removes your hands from your face, and a small smile graces his pretty features. he's absolutely gorgeous, he has such a pretty smile, you have the sudden urge to tell him about it. "your smile is beautiful".
now it's jisung's turn to become the red faced lovesick fool. "ah, really?" he responds, voice shaky, hands even more shaky, but they're so soft, your mind always reminds you to note that.
you hum in agreement. "it's very pretty, i can't believe more people don't talk about it".
"well you can talk about it, aren't we technically dating now?"
the question makes you pause. you feel like your about to go insane, you're dating park jisung? park jisung is your boyfriend? this is like a dream come true, a dream you thought would stay a dream and only a dream. "dating? dating! yeah yeah!"
your natural act is not natural at all, you are very nervous, so nervous you feel like your about to collapse onto the floor. "there's no need to be so nervous.."
you groan. "says you!"
"alright y/n" jisung lets go of your hands, much to your dismay, because you frown. he takes note, and reaches over to grab your own once again, intertwining your fingers. "we’re dating, you don't have to go red faced every time i compliment you now".
"but it's you, how do i not?"
jisung sighs, leaning forward and pressing a small peck on your lips. oh he is such a stupid little—
"why would you do that!?"
"i'm sorry!" jisung giggles, he was definitely not sorry. "it was an instinct, i had to!"
"you— ugh!"
park jisung can't just not make you nervous, he's such a crazy man.
one that you love, of course.
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"I THINK I LIKE THIS ONE THE MOST.." JISUNG states, admiring the polaroid photos which litter the desk. you hum at his words, rummaging through the box on the counter, you are very much focused on finding that estranged camera taehyun had pointed for you to find. your boyfriend glances up, looking over your shoulder, silently watching as you get frustrated about this stupid camera you couldn't find. "which one?" you inquire, glancing over at him. jisung holds up the polaroid, a picture you'd taken of you and sungchan at the beach when you were nine. a pretty photo, you aren't even sure how you pulled it off. "ah, that is a pretty one" you whisper, and you smile the moment jisung smiles. his smile is so pretty, a cute stretch which is enough to make you smile, even if you feel down.
"what’s with your face?"
"searching for this old camera is pissing me off" you remark, knowing that you have to search for this is just making you even more mad, why do you have to pack the photography room right before graduation? you hate it. "who even left it in here?"
"a former student maybe?"
you close your eyes, sighing. "i need this to be over so much more quickly" you complain, and jisung just laughs at your misery.
"we graduate in a week, y/n, just be patient" the younger pokes your cheek, then he cups your face, trying to make your frown disappear. "an old camera is not the end of the world".
you glance down at jisung's lips, then narrow your eyes. "are you trying to seduce me?" you question, raising an eyebrow.
"no?" jisung responds, adding a small tilt of his head to his words. "do i sound believable?"
"not at all" you say, pushing jisung's hands away and looking back to the box in front of you so you can continue to scour for this camera you have to get for your friend. you continue to search through the box, trying to find this old dslr camera for your friend. "so don't distract me".
"i'm not!" jisung whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin onto your shoulder, watching you try to succeed at your mission of finding a camera. "you don't want to give me, your lovely, amazing boyfriend attention?"
you merely roll your eyes at jisung, he's so annoying (in a cute way), you're about to call chenle to drag him away from you, but you also don't want him to let go of you, his arms around your waist make you feel safe, loved, park jisung makes you feel so loved.
"i found it!" you shriek, victory soaring in your voice. "fucking finally".
"okay so can you give me a kiss now?" jisung asks, puckering his lips and leaning closer to you.
he's so desperate, and you are too, it's adorable, park jisung is adorable. "hmm" you pretend to think about it, an inquisitive look making it's way to your face. "nah".
"y/n! that's not fair!" jisung whines, shaking you with his arms that are still around your waist. he frowns, trying to give you his best puppy dog eyes.
you almost give in, but you push him away, taking the camera you'd been searching for. "later, babe".
"you said that this morning!"
you sigh, turning around to stare at the pouting park. the cute pout remains on his face, how can you ever resist him? you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, ruffling his hair. "there, are you happy you big baby?"
"you could do better".
"uh huh, and you could be patient".
jisung frowns once again, but it's not a serious one, just the cute one he likes to do when he pretends to be mad at you. "don't be mad, you know i love you".
jisung does know, he knows that very well. he smiles at you, he's so in love with you, and not even in an embarrassing way, there's nothing embarrassing about this, he feels joyful, a sense of euphoria overtakes him whenever he’s with you.
"i know, i love you too".
and he isn't lying when he says that.
because he truly does.
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jellyfishwrites777 · 12 hours
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NA JAEMIN
Boyfriend!Jaemin
Genre: fluff
Warning: triggers delusions
I've been thinking of bf jaemin so much it kinda really hurts
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Boyfriend!jaemin who takes you to escape rooms and just sits there while he watches you crack the case with a big smile on his face
Boyfriend!jaemin who doesn't sleep until he makes sure you ate all your meals
Boyfriend!jaemin who waits hours just waiting for you to get ready and won't let the day pass without him showering you with compliments
Boyfriend!jaemin who can't get a goodnight sleep unless he lays his head on your stomach and showers it with kisses
Boyfriend!jaemin who is willing to cancel all his plans just to spend some time with you
Boyfriend!jaemin who whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep and doesn't sleep until he's sure you are
27 notes · View notes
marksmelodies · 3 months
Note
Hellooooo can I request when dreamies forget their anniversary with y/n and she says “ do you even care about this relationship” and them trying to convince her preety please
Love you 🩷
hiii yes omg love you too!! i hope you enjoy!!
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luvyeni · 2 months
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hii, just imagine mark with a REALLY shy and sentitive reader
when like, they started dating and are having they first time together and mark wants to make her feel good and is giving her a head, and in a few minutes she started soobing bc mark is sooooo good and her cunt is so sentitive 😫
p. boyfriend!mark x fem bodied reader | warnings: 18+ content (mdni!!), oral sex ( f. receiving ) | words: 0.2k ~ (235) 🐯ㆍ₊⊹
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“Mark.” You grabbed at his hair, trying to push his head away — sobbing as mark lapped at your cunt. After a few months of dating you finally allowed him to go down on you.
He wasted no time pulling your pants down, lifting your legs over his shoulders kissing your clit before licking away at your folds.
“Wa-wait ma-mark.” You thrashed around the bed, pushing at his head. He was so good that you felt yourself cumming in only a few minutes — mark was shocked, he’d gone down on a few girls before, but none of them has ever cum so fast before — it was so fucking hot.
Tears streamed down your face as he held down your waist down. “fuck baby your pussy is so sensitive.” He blew on your cunt. “taste so fucking good baby, perfect fucking cunt.” He kissed your clit — your legs twitching as he toyed with you. “ma-mark.”
He pulled away, his lips glistening with your essence. “my sensitive baby.” He toyed with your cunt, unbuckling his pants, letting his cock free, rubbing it up and down your folds. “you can give me another one baby right?”
He wiped your tears, you sniffled nodding, whining as he slowly pushed into your cunt. “fu-fuck you’re so fucking tight baby.” He bottomed out, kissing your fresh tears off your tears.
“Gonna fuck you until your pretty pussy can no longer take me.”
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©️LUVYENI
1K notes · View notes
suzayaaa · 3 months
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WOULD YOU CHANGE YOUR LAST NAME TO MINE? - NCT DREAM
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pairing: bf!nctdream x gn!reader
theme: fluff, crack, established relationship
warnings: none
suza’s note: i downloaded the fakechat app for my taeyong fic and got this idea in the meantime
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
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∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
1K notes · View notes
sxcret-garden · 17 days
Text
Haechan ღ Painted with You [M]
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ღ NCT Dream Haechan x fem!reader ღ feat.: short mentions of Renjun & Jeno ღ words: ~15k ღ genre: college AU, fwb to lovers, exes to lovers, fluff, slice of life, slow burn, pining, reader is a little dense, angst, humor, smut (switch!Haechan (but sub-leaning), oral (both receiving), hair pulling (idol receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some begging, fingering, handjob, edging, orgasm denial (idol receiving), dry humping) ღ warnings: alcohol consumption, depiction of anxiety and reader feeling burnt out, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms
Desc.: You and Donghyuck were a couple back in high school, each having your own reasons for dating the other, but ultimately what you seeked out in each other was a distraction. Now that you meet again five years later, you both come to realize that the connection between you is still there, and eventually it’s crystal clear that the people you’ve become won’t be as easily separated as back then.
Author's note: aaaa I've had this in my drafts for sooo long avoiding to proofread it cause I wasn't happy with this at all... so now I finally came back to it to edit a bit and I think in the end it turned out quite okay^^ I hope you guys like it 🫶
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There’s a hint of victory in the smile he gives you when you sit down next to him. Like he knew it would come to this - that you’d get bored of exchanging mundanities with the others and eventually find yourself drawn to him as your only escape. And it’s not like you didn’t know it too, it was clear from the moment you greeted each other with a hug that lasted shorter than it should have, and at the same time felt more familiar than you wanted it to. Yet his stance is inviting as he turns his whole body towards you in his seat, and the curiousity in his eyes is apparent.
“Long time no see,” he says, and it comes out softer than you would’ve expected it to. And he probably had the same thought, because he’s clearing his throat now, talking more firmly as he continues, “What have you been up to?” The last time you’ve seen each other was at your high school graduation ceremony, and since then it’s been almost five years. Which, as your former class president Renjun had decided, was about enough time to gather for a reunion. 
“Well, you know. This and that,” you try to avoid an answer, but of course he wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily. He knows you too well for that.
“Come on,” he snorts. “You can tell me. My time wasn’t spent in a purely productive manner either.”
“You probably spent about 3 years total on just playing video games…” you say with a grin playing on your lips, and you make him huff in disbelief, before his expression as well returns to a somewhat mischievous smile. 
“Now that was just tactless,” he says, straightening his back now. “I quit uni to go to work, and then started again with a different major. So now I’m a freshman!” He gives you a peace sign with his hand, sounding a lot prouder about the fact than he should’ve been.
“Feeling like 19 again?” you joke.
“Yes! Everyone automatically assumes I’m their age,” he explains. “But then I tell them I’m older, so I can make them work for me!” An exaggeratedly mischievous laugh follows, and you can only shake your head at his shenanigans.
“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, turning away and facing the bartender working just a few seats away. Originally you were all going out for dinner and nothing more, but when some girls suggested paying a nearby bar a visit, nobody could refuse in the face of getting some booze into their veins. Maybe you aren’t the only one who’s getting fucked over by life.
“One margarita,” you raise your hand and order, then you add, directed at Donghyuck, “Anything for you?”
“Just soju.” And so after placing both your orders, he adds, “Still can’t drink the adult drinks?”
“Excuse you, it has alcohol in it, so it is an adult drink. But if you’re asking if I still hate bitter stuff - yes I do.”
“I see… anyway, I’m not letting you get away without properly answering my question.”
“Too bad,” you respond. “Well…” And then you hesitate. You remember what it was like between the two of you in high school. When you were dating, each for your own reasons and certainly not because you had feelings for each other. But he still felt like a friend you could entrust your deepest feelings with - you knew each other like the back of your own hand. And yet, you find yourself hesitating in the face of five years passed by without a word from the other. It wasn’t like you had a fight or broke up on bad terms. It’s just that you both agreed it would be better not to see each other again, for reasons that seemed smart at the time. But now that you’re looking at the person he’s become and how much he seems to have grown up, you’re not sure anymore what those reasons even were.
“That bad?” Donghyuck interrupts your train of thought as he raises an eyebrow at you, and when you shake your head a short laugh escapes him.
“No, just… I’m also still in university,” you say. “I had to take a year off, so I’m trying to finish everything now. It’s not going great though.”
“Oh…” he looks away, directing his gaze at his hands that he’s hiding in the sleeves of his knitted sweater. “Are you managing though?” And that’s when you suddenly feel the past and the present connect - the way he immediately becomes serious when the situation calls for it, just like he has always done, makes you feel safe to keep speaking, and to keep your heart open, just for a bit.
“It’s… difficult,” you admit. The bartender sets down your ordered drinks, causing another pause, and you acknowledge it with a nod. “I’m trying not to do too much, but you know what’s it like living here.”
“Yeah,” he says. “That fucked you over before, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” You fall silent after that, but not for long. Your conversation partner is Donghyuck after all, he wouldn’t let an awkward silence get too long.
“I have changed… by the way.” You raise your eyebrows at him as he speaks those words, letting the sip of your cocktail slowly trickle down your throat.
“Have you?” you ask. “Well, I mean… you’ve grown up.”
“Oh?” Suddenly seeing him straightening his back as he’s overjoyed, you can’t but giggle at the way his face is graced with a beaming smile now, but he glosses it over with a cough and a sip of his soju.
“But you sure are still the same guy,” you add, a nostalgic smile on your lips. 
“I guess,” he agrees, his features softening. Another pause falls upon you as you give your cocktail another taste, and this time it’s you who breaks the silence. Continuously chatting, you’re starting to feel a little tipsy from the sweet beverage after a while.
“I heard you got a girlfriend?” Donghyuck huffs, a wide smile meant to hide a bitter feeling appearing on his face.
“Yeah…”
“What about her?” you pry, sensing something off.
“Dumped me,” he simply says, then pointing across the room and at Jeno, one of your former classmates. “For that guy.”
“Ouch.”
“It’s whatever,” he shrugs it off, pouring himself another glass and offering the shot to you instead. “You sure you don’t want any?”
“I’d rather have my own drink, thanks.”
“Alright. Then cheers.” He downs the shot, grimacing at the taste, and when he sets the glass back down, he adds, “I don’t get why she went for him anyway. I bet it’s cause of all that muscle he got.” You can’t help but chuckle at his words, and you hit his upper arm playfully.
“You should hit the gym too and then see if you can get her back.”
“Very funny,” he replies dryly. “I’d rather die.”
“Understandable…” you reply, taking another sip of your drink as well. “So… you’re probably glad I finally came to you.” Donghyuck shoots you a questioning look and you explain yourself. “For a distraction. Like in the old days, you know?”
“Ahh…” He merely lets out a sound, before staring at his empty shot glass. 
“You’re not doing that anymore?” you assume.
“I guess.”
“Yeah… me too,” you say. “Or like… I stopped using people for it.”
You were dating back then, that’s true, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call yourselves high school sweethearts. You were both going through some stuff - for him it was a breakup with his first love, for you it was just life itself. When you were both at your lowest you started talking properly, and it soon became clear that you both wanted nothing more than to escape. And so you formed an alliance - as you used to call it, to everyone else you simply said that you were a couple now. You did behave like a couple, but just for the rush. The first time you held his hand you felt nothing, but when you made out secretly in the backyard of your school instead of attending class, that’s when you were overwhelmed with excitement. It was a stupid idea, you know that now too, and it only worked for so long. You spent the summer of your junior year together, meeting up almost every day and talking, and eventually distracting yourselves by making out secretly in your or his room. And then your final year came, and as you started seeing yourselves forced to take life a bit more seriously, you gradually met up less, until you both agreed that breaking up would be the best decision, so that you could focus on your studies and try to get into a good university. At least for your part, you still have mixed feelings when you remember that day. Because you know you made the adult decision, but at the same time you always end up thinking back to what fooling around with him felt like when you have a bad day now, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss it at least a bit. But you found other distractions - obsessing over tv series, finding just the perfect kind of music to drown out your feelings, and sometimes, whenever you could find a good excuse to drink with friends, alcohol. Though you’re being careful with the latter, just as you are now. One drink is usually enough to help you relax a bit and not pay all the things stressing you out so much thought.
“So when are we gonna start writing your redemption arc?” you ask nonchalantly, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Your ex.”
“Stop that, for real,” he says, and the way he remains serious tells you your joke wasn’t well received.
“Sorry,” you utter.
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but you know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” He’s playing with the glass in his hands, thumb rubbing along its edge as he keeps staring at it, and you take the last few sips of your drink, before you too start spinning the cocktail glass around between your fingers.
“Actually…” Donghyuck speaks up, now throwing you an entirely different look. “How about we get out of here. Maybe we could both use a distraction after all.”
“But-”
“Just for today.” You stare at him blankly, blinking once, twice, then a third time. This sounds like a bad idea, but at the same time you know you’re probably not gonna see each other for the next five years, just like it was for the past five. So what would be so bad about taking his offer now?
“Alright,” you say eventually, having made up your mind. “My place? It’s nearby.” His lips are parted slightly as he watches you jump out of your seat and put on your jacket. As the air around you changes, so does the look in his eyes, and a moment later he gets up too, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist while he holds the door open for you as he walks you out of the place.
“You really have changed,” you comment as you’re sneaking out, so none of the others would notice, and you giggle at your unnecessary secrecy once you’re past the entrance to the building.
“I can be a gentleman too!” he insists. “Of course a high school boy wouldn’t think of that.” You catch the pout that forms on his lips as he adds the last part, and you inevitably laugh, pointing at his face.
“But you’re also really still the same.”
You decide on going to your place, as it’s nearby, and you take a taxi there. Though you know this is only going to be a one time thing, neither of you seems to be in a rush. You take the elevator to the sixth floor, grinning at each other in silence the entire ride - maybe because this reminds the both of you a bit too much of the way you used to sneak off together all the time back in school. But once you arrive at your apartment, the atmosphere between you somehow changes, and as you’re walking over to your little kitchen to offer him a drink, he stops you, wrapping his arm around your waist. His touch is firm now, and he comes to a halt when he’s standing right in front of you, closer than a friend would, but leaving more distance between you than a lover would, and keeping his voice lowered, he asks,
“So… are we going to go right to the distraction part? Or do we need to pretend that we still need to warm up to each other first?” You find him staring at your lips, then returning his gaze to your eyes as he waits patiently for your response. And you don’t manage to come up with anything smart to say to him, so you simply take a step forward, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, and you kiss him. His lips feel soft, just like you remember them, melting against yours perfectly. Yet there’s a firmness to his kiss that feels new to you. He used to always kiss you with eagerness, too much of it at times, impatient to feel more of you and for you to take control. It was no secret between you two that he actually quite enjoyed being put into his place by you, and now that there’s no such intentions apparent behind the way he moves his lips against yours, you find yourself having your breath taken away by the time you part. 
“You really did grow up well…” you mutter, barely an inch apart. “Did your ex teach you to kiss like that?” 
“Watch your mouth, Y/N,” he mutters darkly, another side of him that’s not exactly new to you, but one that you haven’t seen a lot in the past. And then he simply brushes his lips against yours again, softly and with care, quite in contrast to his sharp words. “I don’t wanna ruin this with thoughts about people I don’t know anymore.”
“Right…” you whisper, and before you can add a mumbled apology, he presses his lips to yours again. In between short kisses that inevitably leave you longing for more, he steers you closer to the wall behind you, until he has you trapped against it. Your shoulders meet the cold surface gently, and as you’re slowly getting to know this different side of him, you feel yourself being swept off your feet like he never knew how to. 
One of his hands resting on your waist, his fingertips creep towards your hip as you’re sharing an open mouthed kiss. A moan escapes you when he presses you up against the wall closer, and as he slowly parts from you, you can see the playful grin showing on his face now.
“You changed too,” he comments, and again he closes the distance between you without giving you a chance to question his words. Your hands finding their way up into his short hair, your fingers get tangled with the strands and you carefully tug at them as he deepens this kiss as well. He’s kissing you slowly as you let him have the lead naturally, and as you keep making out like this, you eventually find yourself burning up whole under his touch. He moves from your mouth to your neck eventually, and you lean your head back with a deep sigh as he begins scattering hot kisses all over the area. His hand that’s been propped up against the wall now finds the back of your nape to support you, and when he comes back up, he whispers a question,
“Do we keep going like we used to? Or do you wanna go all the way this time?” Drunk on his kisses, you pull him in for another one on the mouth, and as you part you mutter,
“We’re not kids anymore. Let’s go all the way.” You step aside and he lets you, and you reach for his hands to walk him over to your couch. Giving him a push, he lets himself fall back onto the sofa, leaning against the backrest as his curious gaze never leaves you. “Don’t need this anymore…” you mumble as you pull off your shirt and throw it somewhere onto the ground, and then you crawl into his lap to straddle him. His hands find purchase on your hips immediately as he looks up at you with warm eyes. You cup his face in your hands and you lean in, capturing his lips in a teasing kiss. Sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, you lure a breathy moan out of him, and wanting to hear more, you keep kissing him like that. Feathery touches that would for sure make him want more eventually become overshadowed by you rolling his hips on top of him, and with each time he lets you hear his voice you become more eager. It’s almost as if you’ve become the one who can’t wait, and he’s the one acting with patience.
“Never knew you could turn me on this much,” he mutters as you pull back, moving your hips at a leisurely pace. You can undoubtedly feel the bulge in his pants, and it’s certainly not leaving you unaffected.
“I grew up too, Hyuck,” you say, and then you bury your face in his neck. You kiss a trail up to the spot right below his ear as he leans back, and his hands wander up your sides and to your back when you start nibbling on his skin. 
“Mhm… you did, hm?” he answers. He finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, and as the piece of clothing slides down your arms, you sit back so he can take it off you and fling it to the ground as well, somewhere in the general direction of where your shirt should be. He holds onto your sides as he takes in the sight in front of him, and as he draws closer to connect his lips to the skin on your chest, you can hear him saying,
“I know I never told you this as a boy but you look beautiful. I really regret not saying that to you.” He kisses his way up from the valley of your breasts to your throat and then back to your mouth, and just before he can connect his lips to yours, you whisper,
“It’s fine. I might’ve actually fallen for you if you had done that.” You laugh, and he does too, but his grin has a different meaning to it than yours.
“Don’t say that. We don’t want anything unfortunate to happen.” Connecting his lips to yours, he runs his tongue across them to ask for permission to enter, and without protest you let him deepen the kiss.
“Now you’re the one who said it,” you mumble a response in between kisses. “That’s a stupid thought anyway.”
“Right.” His fingertips dance south along your spine, and he eventually tugs at your pants as a sign that he wants those off as well. And so you peel yourself out of his hold, and while you’re discarding your jeans, he slips out of his shirt, and both clothing items land somewhere on the floor, soon to be forgotten. He makes you lie down flat on the couch as he crawls on top of you, and when he leaves a trail of small kisses up your torso, one of his hands finds its way to your hips, thumb hooking under the fabric of your panties.
“These too,” he says. “I want these off too.” You give him the okay to take them off as you comb your fingers through his hair once, and as soon as he’s gotten rid of the last piece of clothing on your body, he lowers himself to let his lips draw a map of your figure. Feeling his warm hands against your sides, you let out a sigh as you lean your head back and you close your eyes for a bit, just enjoying the way his kisses feel against your skin. Your hands fly to his hair again, and you find yourself massaging his scalp as he’s slowly going down on you. You let him lift your legs up onto his shoulders eventually, and when he buries his face between your legs, you can’t but let out a small moan. Tongue lapping at your folds, he hums at your taste, and then he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it gently. 
“That feel good?” he asks, slurring his words a bit, and you nod, tugging at the strands of hair between your fingers.
“Yeah. Keep going…” And so he does, alternating between teasing you with his lips and the tip of his tongue, and when he retrieves one hand to slide his fingers inside you, he comments,
“So wet for me, hm?”
“Y-yeah…” You can unmistakably feel the knot in your stomach being tied tighter with every single touch of his, and when he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a frustratingly slow pace, you find yourself begging for more. “Faster… p-please…” Donghyuck simply hums at your plea, before he obliges, curling his fingers inside you just a little faster. Gradually picking up on speed, the way he flicks his tongue against your clit along with the waves of pleasure that run through your body with each time he hits that sweet spot inside you make you slowly lose your mind, and you let him know just how good he’s making you feel by moaning in tune with his movements.
“Don’t stop… please don’t stop…” you mewl as you look down on yourself to find him already gazing back up at you, observing all of your reactions closely through half-lidded eyes. Just a few more repetitions and he’s throwing you over the edge, making you clench around his fingers as you throw your head back with a moan. “Fuck…” you mutter after he pulls out of you carefully, and he crawls back up to kiss you on the lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue as you share a lazy kiss, and once you part, you place your palms on his chest to push him off you.
“Your turn,” you simply state as you sit up and you make some space so you can comfortably kneel in front of the sofa. Getting the message, he hurriedly rids himself of his pants and boxers, and when he sits down in front of you, you don’t waste another second to wrap your fingers around his length. Giving him a few strokes, he’s fully hard in no time, and he watches as he leans back, enjoying the attention.
“You really have no patience anymore, huh,” he mutters, and you lick your lips before returning his gaze.
“Want me to torture you a bit? Make you beg for it? I can do that too.”
“I can beg if you want me to,” he retorts, the confident expression not being wiped off his face so easily, and you decide to keep that piece of information in mind. Just in case. But for now you’re not planning on making him wait - he’s right, you’ve become impatient, and you’re dying to know what kind of sounds you might lure out of him with his dick in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, watching him part his lips slightly as he lets you hear a deep sigh and a praise directed at you. “That’s right…” he mutters, and when you take his tip into your mouth fully, he lets you hear a moan so sweet, you swear you could cum just from the sound of it. Slowly bobbing your head up and down and having your hand that’s wrapped around his base follow those same movements, you enjoy the way he keeps moaning at your ministrations, until eventually you hum in approval and he whines from the pleasure.
“Fuck…” A curse escapes him when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag a little, and you find yourself amused at how easy it is to make a guy whine as soon as you have him in a position like this. You go painfully slow, but he takes all of your teasing, and just when you start feeling bad for him because of how desperate his moans are, you speed up, making sure to take him in as far as you can. 
“Shit, Y/N…” he calls out to you. “Wait-”
“Hm?” You come up at his words, letting him slip out of your mouth.
“Wanna cum in your pussy…” The request makes you grin.
“So demanding…” you mutter, shooting him a challenging look.
“Please…” he tries to convince you, his pupils shaking as he’s awaiting your answer. But you’ve already made up your mind on how you’re going to proceed, and so you merely throw him a grin, before taking him back into your mouth. He throws his head back at you sucking him off at a faster pace now, probably in a mixture of frustration and pleasure, and as more curses fall from his lips along with your name, you know he’s close. You hum at his desperation and at the way he’s twitching in your hand while he’s bucking his hips up into your touch, and the next time you’re sinking all the way down on him, he cums with a moan. You try to swallow everything as he releases into your mouth, and when you let go of him you lick your lips to get the rest of it too, all while he watches with a hazy mind. And then you crawl into his lap, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his throat, and eventually you say,
“Why not both?” You grab his face in one hand, gaze falling to his lips, and before he can say anything you kiss him to cut off his train of thought. “We have so much time tonight…” you mutter against his lips in between kisses, and he merely lets out small moans at your words. “We can do all the things we want. But let’s move somewhere more comfortable first.” And so you hurriedly walk over to your bedroom, Donghyuck pushing you against the mattress as soon as you’re there, and he doesn’t waste a single second to kiss you again. His lips nipping at your collarbones, you throw your arms around him, until finally you switch positions again, and you end up sitting on top of him, sinking down on his hard cock and biting your lower lip from how good it feels to be filled up like this.
“Fuck…” Now it’s you who’s cursing, fingers intertwined with his as you’re pinning his hands down to keep yourself stable. You know he’s drinking up the sight in front of him as you start slowly riding him, and the way he looks at you only turns you on more. 
“Shit, you look so pretty like this…” he mumbles, completely taken aback, and he sits up, freeing his hands to hold onto your sides instead. “Can I kiss you?”
“You’re asking that now?” you chuckle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lets out a short laugh as he too realizes how ridiculous his question was.
“You’re right,” he mutters, leaning in. “Then I’ll just kiss you whenever I want.” A rush of heat courses through your body as he presses his lips against yours, and you roll your hips on top of him just a little faster.
“Please do,” you whisper, barely audible, before Donghyuck closes the distance between you again. You take your time making out, until both of you feel that you’re coming close again, and with one hand between your bodies, he starts rubbing your clit for you as you keep your pace.
“I’ll help you,” he whispers, unable to take his eyes off your face as you’re both completely drunk on the other’s touches.
“Mhm…” you moan, chasing your own high on top of him. You’re the first one who comes undone, digging your nails into his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck as your high shakes you.
“Don’t stop, Y/N…” His words sound desperate, and you do your best to keep moving despite feeling the overstimulation building up. He has both his hands on your back now, and you let out a moan when you feel him dragging his nails down to your hips. “Shit…!” Spitting out a curse, he releases inside you, and finally you come to a halt. You stay in your positions for a while, waiting until your heartbeats have returned to a normal pace in each other’s arms, before you both lie down side by side, out of breath and grinning at the other.
“Didn’t think you’d get that good without me…” he mutters a comment.
“Hey!” you shout playfully. “What was I supposed to do if you just disappear on me like that?”
“You didn’t contact me either,” he tries to defend himself, but you both know it was him who stopped replying to your messages, even though your conversations were already scarce after graduating. For now you decide to say nothing - your mind filled with bliss from what your night out ended up turning into, you wouldn’t want to ruin the mood. Instead, he’s the one to break the silence.
“Wanna keep going?” he asks, scooting over closer to you and making you lie flat on your back, kissing a trail down your jawline and placing a hand on top of your stomach. “I wanna keep going,” he adds, more silently, as his fingers are already wandering south.
“Alright,” you mutter, your hand up in his hair again as he drags his fingers down your folds, dipping inside once and then coming back up to your clit to draw circles onto it. “If I walk weird tomorrow it’s your fault,” you add, laughing.
“You just made me wanna see that,” he jokes back, before pressing a kiss to the side of your throat and letting his fingers take care of you.
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You keep in touch after that, texting each other throughout the day - even on those days where you barely find the time or energy to be social, you’ll at least send some memes back and forth - and meeting up whenever you both have some free time. It really feels like you’re continuing right where you had left off five years ago whenever you find yourselves unable to stop laughing because of your own bickering, or when you’re sitting side by side, having a more serious conversation and simply offering an open ear to the other. And at the same time something about the way you treat each other has undoubtedly changed. Of course you both grew up and you’re more mature than you were as high school students, but it seems there’s something else lingering in the air during every interaction you have, you just can’t really put your finger on what that is. 
You also keep meeting up to have sex. 
“So? What does that make us?” you ask a question into the dimly lit room, staring up at the ceiling. You’re both lying side by side on his bed, the sheets beneath you messed up as evidence of what you’ve been doing, and the chilly air in the room hitting your skin lets you cool down a bit.
“What? This?” Donghyuck asks, turning his head so he could look at you.
“Yeah,” you respond. “We’re not just friends if we’re constantly hooking up, are we?” Your words are accompanied by a chuckle, meant to tell him that you’re not being as serious as you sound. Or maybe you are, but mostly because your other friends keep asking where you’re sneaking off so frequently these days, and why you don’t seem to have the time to meet up with them anymore. And everytime you tell them you’re seeing a different friend, a part of you feels like you’re lying. Maybe that’s because they’ve stopped believing you too, and they keep urging you on to finally admit that you’re dating someone. But you’re not dating Donghyuck, right?
“Fuckbuddies?” He rolls onto his side, head supported by his hand, and he gives you a mischievous look.
“I guess,” you say, and after some consideration you add, “My friends keep asking who I’m meeting all the time. They think I have a boyfriend.”
“Well, what does it feel like when you kiss me?” You’re too stunned to speak for a moment, not expecting him to pose such a serious question.
“I mean… you’re a good kisser?” You grin at him, rolling onto your side as well so you could face him, and as you’re drawing near, he’s already reaching out to capture your chin between his thumb and index finger.
“That’s all?”
“I think so.” He lets his lips brush against yours, puffy and reddened from making out earlier, and you feel warmth wrap around you. You also feel safe with him, but that’s not exclusively related to him kissing you, so you don’t feel the need to mention it.
“Then I can’t be your boyfriend,” he mutters when you part.
“So friends… with benefits then?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, great,” you say, letting yourself fall onto your back, sinking into the mattress. “I can’t go around telling my friends that I’m seeing a fuckbuddy.” Your friend giggles beside you.
“I mean you don’t have to,” he says. “If it’s easier to explain, you can just pretend you’re seeing a boyfriend. I don’t mind.”
“I wonder…” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “Then they’ll want to meet you, so… anyway.” You sit up, letting your feet dangle off the side of the bed. “I’m kinda hungry. You wanna order something?”
“I’ll make us some ramen. But we should shower first.” He sits up as well, and when you throw him a look over your shoulder, he cocks his head to the side, giving you another grin. “Together?” You laugh at his suggestion.
“You just want another round in there, don’t you? We’re never gonna get food in that case. I’m going alone.”
“Awww…” he whines in defeat and it makes you smile. You crawl closer to him, placing a peck onto his pouting lips.
“We kiss an awful lot for fuckbuddies, though,” you remark, and then you get up.
“I don’t think we’re kissing nearly enough…” he mumbles an answer. Amused by his words, you shoot him another glance, and then you trot off to the bathroom. 
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“You free Friday night?” You glance at your phone screen when it lights up to quickly read Donghyuck’s message that you just received, and as you let out a sigh, you return your focus to the notebook in front of you. Skimming through your handwritten notes from the lecture you visited every wednesday afternoon a year ago still gives you anxiety - you’re not sure what more you’re supposed to study than this and the materials displayed on your laptop screen, and yet you don’t feel nearly prepared enough. You’re in your last semester - or at least you’re planning for this to be the last one - and you finally forced yourself to register for the exam you keep postponing because you horribly failed it the first time. The worst part is that it’s an oral exam, so no turning back once you’ve answered (or not answered) a question, even if a better response comes to you later on during the exam. And you hate that, because you know your brain tends to black out in stressful situations, and panicking while you’re supposed to recite your knowledge on a complicated topic doesn’t exactly help with that. You tear your eyes away from the materials eventually, taking another sip of your coffee and then picking up your phone off the small round dinner table in your flat.
“Sorry, I don’t have time then ㅠㅠ” You press send, and it doesn’t take long for your friend to reply.
“On the weekend? I’m busy Saturday but Sunday is fine!!”
“I don’t think I can make time until Tuesday. Sorry. Difficult exam coming up…”
“Then you should take a break!! I’m sure you’ve been studying all day” He’s not wrong with his assumption, but still you can’t bring yourself to set aside a few hours to fool around with him. You wouldn’t be able to relax and truly get the exam off your mind anyway, so you refuse again, even if it hurts you.
It’s been like this for a while now. The last time you’ve seen Donghyuck’s face was almost three weeks ago - after that university and sending job applications have taken up all your free time, and the few hours you had in between to rest you simply spent alone in the comfort of your own apartment, feeling too exhausted to even consider making plans with someone else. You know it might do you good to get out more for other things than going to uni, but at the same time you know you simply don’t have the energy right now - or you would’ve already scheduled a meetup with friends. It sucks, and you’re hoping for some space to breathe in between your schedules sometime soon, but at the same time you know you will be busy with uni until your graduation, and from then on you’ll be busy getting accustomed to work and proving yourself there. And the more you think about it, the more it starts to dawn on you that things will likely not change in the near future, and that somehow the life of a freshman and that of a senior don’t really match well at all.
But you brush those thoughts off for now. The last thing you need right now is a distraction, and so you get back to revising the contents for the exam.
And then comes Sunday afternoon, and you can feel the panic coursing through your veins as if you were about to suffocate from it any second now. You’ve always had some kind of exam anxiety, but it’s never been this bad, and you have absolutely no idea what to do with it except endure and hope that tomorrow will pass quickly. That’s when your phone buzzes to let you know you’ve gotten a message, and what you see when you open the chat room tips you over the edge. 
“This would’ve been more fun if we had watched it together~” - along with a picture of a laptop screen showing the credits of a movie, the interior of Donghyuck’s flat showing in the background. Your hands are shaking as you read his message, your head spinning because suddenly the stress and a feeling of helplessness overwhelms you. You end up doing the first thing that comes to mind - you call him. He picks up after the first ring.
“Jealous?” he teases you, and you stay quiet, your words suddenly stuck in your throat. Hearing only your ragged breathing, he sounds serious when he continues talking after a few moments of silence. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“What’s up? Wanna talk about it?”
“...the exam…”
“Ahh… you’re freaking out because of it?”
“Y-yeah…” Tears well up in your eyes, but you fight hard to keep them from falling. You know if you start crying now, chances are you won’t be able to talk properly in order to explain yourself to him. “I studied everything but I don’t feel like it’s enough… I have no idea how I’m supposed to pass tomorrow…” A sob escapes you at the end of it, and Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate to answer,
“I’ll come over. Just wait for me and hold tight, I’ll be there in 30.” 
And so that’s what he does. He doesn’t even give you the time to refuse when he hangs up, and sure enough roughly 30 minutes later he’s at your doorstep. Putting down his bags and taking off his shoes, the first thing he does is pull you into a tight hug.
“Come here,” whispered against the side of your head as he’s already holding you close, he hugs you until he can feel some of the tension leaving your body. When he finally lets you go, he picks up a paper bag he brought with him, holding it out to you and you take it from him. “I bought them on the way. I thought you could use some comfort food.” A glance inside the bag reveals a box decorated with the logo of your favourite bakery.
“Oh my god… thank you!” you exclaim, and you give him another hug as he lets out a bit of an awkward laugh.
“Ah, it’s fine, it’s nothing. Let’s have these while we go over your materials together, okay?”
“Huh?” You take a step back and raise your eyebrows at him.
“I came to help you study. So you can kick ass tomorrow!” Throwing a fist in the air in a victorious gesture, you cringe a bit at his childlike enthusiasm, but at the same time you feel thankful. Like you had been in free fall for the past days and finally someone came to catch you.
“Okay,” you accept his offer to help, and then you walk over to the small table in your living room where your laptop and your notes are scattered all over. Briefly organizing them, you skim through them together, and when you’ve reached the end of it, Donghyuck starts asking you random questions related to the topic that he can come up with. And with every question that you manage to answer, you feel just a little calmer, until you’ve gone through everything several times and it’s long dark outside.
“You’re gonna do well tomorrow,” the guy sitting next to you tells you, throwing his hand up in the air to do some stretching and you do the same, your body aching for a bit of movement after sitting down for hours. 
“You think so?”
“Of course!” He seems almost offended at you doubting yourself now. “Look at all these things you memorized perfectly! You’re gonna be just fine.”
“You’re right…” you mutter. “I do feel more confident now.” Yet, you let your head hang.
“But…?” he asks.
“But… I know by the time the exam starts tomorrow I’ll be so nervous, I might forget everything…” He reaches for your hands, taking them into his and giving both of them a gentle squeeze as he looks intently at your face.
“Then you think about how well you just did and how long we just spent repeating everything you studied. With this much preparation, there’s no way you would fail.” You know that realistically speaking, that’s not necessarily true, but you decide to believe him for now. Putting trust into his words puts you at ease, so that’s what you’re going to do.
“Alright,” you say. “It’ll be fine.”
“Of course it will,” he says, laughing as if he had not a single doubt about it.
“But…”
“Another but?”
“It’s almost 2am,” you say.
“Oh.”
“Wanna stay over? It takes you ages to get home if you have to take the night buses, right?”
“It’s fine, I’ll just take a taxi,” he replies, adding, “I don’t wanna stress you out more by staying over.”
“No, I-” All the times you felt yourself forced to turn down his invitations to meet up during the past few weeks are suddenly fresh in your memory, and eventually you manage to say, “I’d actually be thankful if you could stay over… you know… keep the bad thoughts away…”
“Sure…” he responds, and growing very quiet suddenly, he gets up to wrap you into another hug. “I’ll stay.”
You each take a shower and get ready for bed, him throwing on some of his clothes you had lying around at your place anyway, and when you get under the sheets together, it feels different than usually when you sleep in the same bed. Neither of you has any thoughts about having sex for a change, and instead he simply pulls you close to let you rest your head on top of his chest. You wrap an arm around his waist as you listen to his heartbeat, already feeling sleepiness overcome you as you snuggle up to him and you can feel him drawing mindless patterns onto your skin. You feel a sense of peace and safety washing over you when your eyelids simply fall shut, and as you fall asleep you almost don’t register the way he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead.
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When you open the email telling you that you got a C on your exam, the first thing you can think of doing is letting Donghyuck know. 
“I passed!!!” You send him a message, and he surely doesn’t let you wait too long for an answer, along with a little sticker of a bear wearing a gold medal and giving a thumbs up.
“I told you so!!”
“It’s all thanks to you,” you write. “We need to go celebrate! Drinks on me.”
“Sounds good~”
With a broad smile on your face you put your phone into the pocket of your padded jacket. It has become cold outside, and there’s a thin layer of snow on the streets from last night. It’s the beginning of December, and before Christmas and new years you’re still going to be very busy. You have two job interviews coming up, have to prepare for your final exams and in between you should find some time to work on your dissertation. Still somehow you’re confident that you would easily be able to find a date where you can go out for your little celebration with your friend, but when you run into him on campus a week later, reality hits you right in the face.
“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out to you as he spots you among a bunch of other students, and you fall behind to briefly talk to him.
“Oh, hi,” you say, not having seen him at all.
“You still didn’t reply to my messages,” he remarks and you immediately pull out your phone, indeed finding that you’ve left him on read two days ago.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you apologize as you remember that you clearly had the intent to respond to him, but then very obviously failed to do so. “Ah, if we can meet… today?” 
“Yesterday,” he corrects you. “But I guess that didn’t happen…” You can unmistakably see the disappointment in his expression, even though he’s doing his utmost to hide it, and you furrow your brows at the sight in front of you. 
“I’m sorry… I must’ve forgotten to reply while studying or something,” you say, unable to look him in the face. “You know, finals coming up.”
“Yeah… I’m studying a lot too these days,” he says, quickly adding, “But I guess as a senior it’s only natural that you’re even busier than I am.” His words sting for some reason, but it’s not like he’s wrong. Truth be told, you’ve been studying every free minute for the past few days, and in between you had a job interview that you don’t have the best of gut feelings about. You were so busy that you barely manage to have three meals a day, and yet you feel guilty about not being able to make time for him.
“I’m really sorry, Hyuck…” you say and he mutters an “it’s okay” as an answer. “But it’s not, is it?” To that he merely glances to the side, showing a sorry smile. And right then you have an idea. “You know what?” As you reach out to take his hand into yours, he raises his eyebrows at you, taken by surprise by your sudden action. “Let’s set a date right now. Then we don’t have to worry about me forgetting to reply or something.” 
“But… that won’t change the fact that you’re super busy…” he reasons, but you cut him off.
“It’s fine, I should be able to spare at least a few hours,” you say, opening your calendar app on your phone and scrolling through the days until exam week starts. “How about next Friday? Friday night sounds like a good time for a little study break and having a celebration instead.”
“S-sure.” You barely notice how he’s atypically dumbfounded at your enthusiasm, only focusing on the fact that you finally found a date to see each other again.
“Great! My place or yours?” you ask, already typing it into your phone.
“Mine… you wanna bring the drinks? Then I’ll take care of the food,” he offers, now taking his phone out as well, probably to put the meet up into his calendar as well.
“Sounds good,” you say in a rush. “Then I’ll see you Friday! Sorry, but… I really have to go now. I was gonna study some more at the library - you coming too?”
“Ah, no, I… have class in half an hour,” he explains briefly, and as you wave your goodbyes and you’re already running off, you fail to notice how his shoulders are suddenly slouched over and there’s a hint of disappointment in the way he looks at you as you’re walking away.
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You sigh as you stare at the email you just received, and you immediately regret even checking your mailbox in the middle of studying in the first place. You got rejected for the last job you applied to - but at least you should be thankful that they let you know about it in the first place, right? After all, the last two companies didn’t even do that much after your interview with them. You gulp, trying to swallow all the disappointment bubbling up inside and attempting to shove it back down to where it came from, and then eventually you cross your arms on the table, resting your head on top and you close your eyes for a while. Another sigh escapes you, and you feel the weight of your responsibilities lay heavily on your shoulders. You’re trying not to beat yourself up over not having found a job for after your graduation yet - you know that everyone’s struggling with finding employment these days. But you really don’t want to take on a job you’re overqualified for, or one that’s not in your field of studies at all. You’ve already made too many compromises because of this, like being willing to move to another city for your job, or expanding on what type of positions you’re applying to. And still, nothing. It’s starting to get to you, even though you hate that it is, and even though you had told yourself to focus on your exams and your dissertation first and foremost. But all of these things stacked on top of each other have led you to lose your spark a bit, and there’s no denying you’re starting to feel burnt out. 
You tell yourself it’s fine, it will pass and eventually your life will get less stressful again. But for now you can feel that you’re at your limit, and you could really use some comfort.
“Right,” you mutter to yourself, lifting your head and looking at the date displayed in the bottom corner of your laptop screen. “Only a few hours to go. Then I can see him.” It’s Friday afternoon, and so you take a deep breath and bring yourself to study some more, before you can finally go to Donghyuck’s place, spending a full evening not having to think about any of this. Burying your head in your books and your lecture notes, you end up not realizing how fast the time is passing, and next time you check the clock, it’s already past 7. 
“Oh god…” you quickly pick up your phone, seeing that your friend already sent you a message asking where you are. You were scheduled to be at his place at 7, but somehow you completely lost track of time.
“I’m so sory I didn’t realize hwo late is is. Ill hurry!!” You type up that message as quickly as possible, ignoring the typos as you send it, and then you jump out of your seat to get ready. 
It’s almost 8pm when he opens the door for you and you apologize first thing as you hand him the tote bag with the alcohol you had promised to bring.
“Ah, but you thought of the important stuff,” he says with a forced smile, trying to brighten the mood a bit before he invites you in and you kick off your shoes and take off your coat to follow him inside.
“I’m really really sorry,” you say once again when you’ve made yourself comfortable on his couch. “I was studying and suddenly it was already this late…”
“It’s okay,” Donghyuck says as he carries over two glasses from the kitchen, handing you one of them. “We’re both busy, it’s not like I don’t understand.”
“But you’re upset.”
“A little,” he admits without looking you in the eyes, and when he continues talking, he does his best to sound cheerful. “But let’s not let that ruin the entire evening. We were both looking forward to today, right?”
“Yeah,” you say. “You won’t believe how glad I am to finally be here,” you add, and you feel the way your body relaxes just by being near him. You earn yourself a bright smile for that comment, before he lifts up the glass in his hand.
“I found the recipe for this a few days ago and wanted to try it,” he says. “I thought it’s your style.” You find a few ice cubes swimming in the beverage he handed you, along with a slice of lemon. The color is a dark shade of yellow at the bottom, and completely transparent at the top, and you nod at the presentation.
“It looks good,” you say. “I’ll try it. Cheers!” Each taking a sip, you agree that you like the taste, and the guy sitting next to you on his sofa explains,
“The recipe says you should put a bit of mint in as well, but… I didn’t have any.”
“I think it’s good the way it is… but, I’m starving. Let’s order food?”
“Me too,” he answers, getting out his phone. 
You order takeout, and while you eat and drink, you watch a movie that you’ve both been wanting to see for some time. You end up chatting here and there during less interesting scenes, and even though you enjoy the movie overall, you enjoy talking to him more. Eventually, as your eyelids begin to feel heavy, you rest your head on his shoulder and he lets you, and you don’t think anything of the peaceful smile he gives you upon feeling you so close to him. He puts one of his hands on top of your thigh, mindlessly rubbing his palm up and down, and by the end of the movie you can’t deny anymore that his actions are affecting you. Credits still rolling, you turn your head to face him, and wordlessly you kiss him, his lips melting against yours. You part for a mere second in which you put your hand behind his neck, and as you let yourself fall against the backrest of his sofa, he hovers above you, distance closing again. 
“Hyuck…” you breathe his name when you part the next time. “Need you…”
“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” he mutters into a sweet kiss, and then he gets up, taking you by your hands to pull you up along with him. As soon as you step into the bedroom you pull him in for another kiss, and you stumble backwards as he steers you towards his bed. He barely lets you lie down when he’s already on top of you, kissing you more deeply. Tongue running across your lip to ask for permission to enter, you allow it without hesitation, and you moan at the way he kisses you slowly but passionately. 
“I’ll take care of you,” he says after parting, “just lean back, okay?”
“Okay…” you answer and he lets his fingertips wander down your clothed body. Undoing the button of your jeans, he unhurriedly slips his hand inside them, and he watches you intently as his fingertips brush against your soaked panties, his voice sultry as he teases you, “So wet already… I didn’t know you were that desperate for me…” Before letting you answer, he leans in to place a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, starting to rub up and down between your folds slowly.
“I thought I’d go crazy without this…” you confess, arms wrapped around him and one hand up in his hair. You play with his locks as he teases you, and you whine, “More, please… don’t make me wait even longer…”
“What do you want, baby?” he asks, and then he buries his face in your neck, leaving kisses there as you throw your head back.
“Anything… even if it’s just your fingers, please just get me off…” you beg, only now realizing just how desperate you really are. Donghyuck gulps at your words, and he kisses his way up to your jaw and along it, until his lips are hovering right above yours.
“Tell me how badly you need me…” he mutters, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside so he could touch you directly. “I wanna hear everything.” As he starts rubbing small circles on your clit his lips go back to tending to your neck, kissing and nipping on the sensitive skin and making it that much more difficult for you to form coherent sentences. Still you can’t but do as told.
“So bad… need you so bad,” you mewl. “I tried to get off so many times, but nothing feels as good as when you touch me…” He hums at your words, granting you a finger dipping inside your pussy for just a moment in return and gasping at just how wet you are.
“I’ll make up for it,” he says. “I’ll make you cum so good.” You whimper, and then you instinctively buck your hips as his finger ghosts above your entrance. You hear him curse through gritted teeth at how needy you’re becoming, and blood rushes to your head from the thought alone that your state could turn him on so much as well.
“Please… just give me your fingers…” you whine, and to your surprise Donghyuck doesn’t drag out his teasing for longer. And so you cry out when he pushes inside, pumping in and out of you while watching your every reaction to his touch. “Fuck…” you hiss, already seeing your high approaching from far away. “I’m not gonna last long…”
“It’s okay,” he coos over you. “Wanna feel you cum around my fingers… can you take another one?”
“Y-yes… yes please…” you say mindlessly, only being able to think about how you want to feel him more. The stretch is bearable when he pushes into you with three fingers, and when he presses his thumb against your bundle of nerves, fingering you skillfully, you think you’re about to lose your mind. “Fuck… yes… don’t stop, please…” you mewl as he slowly picks up speed until he can see the bliss on your facial features. At this point all you can do is moan his name and dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you cling to him, bucking your hips in chase of your orgasm. 
“Shit, you’re so pretty…” you hear him mutter under his breath as he marvels at the sight in front of him, and next thing you know your whole body is shaken by the force of your high. You whine as he fucks you through it, right until your last aftershocks, and then you simply close your eyes as you lay back on his bed, feeling the exhaustion from the past weeks taking over you. Licking his fingers clean after pulling out of you, he then captures your chin between his thumb and index finger to make you look at him.
“What do you want me to do next?” he asks, his words sounding maybe even sweeter than usual to your ears, and you blame it on the way your mind is still in a haze from your orgasm. You think about it for a short while, and in the end you simply snuggle up to him closely.
“Let’s just… stay like this for a while,” you answer. “If that’s okay with you… I think I just need to be close to you.”
“Sure…” Donghyuck mutters, a bit taken aback by your response that must’ve come very unexpectedly to him. However, he doesn’t hesitate to put an arm around your frame, making you feel safe in a warm embrace. “That good?” he asks, and when you nod he presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there for a while.
You don’t move, not knowing how much time is passing while you’re merely listening to the other’s breathing and enjoying each other’s warmth. At that moment, you wish you could stay like this forever, but as you close your eyes and begin to relax, all your thoughts from the past weeks about your situation with him catch up to you one by one. Deep inside you know it can’t stay like this. And the longer you’re dragging this out, the more clearly you can see just how unfair this is on him. And so eventually, you don’t see any other plausible course of action to take next than to start talking.
“Thank you… for being by my side,” you mutter. Your hand having found its way into his, you’re playing with his fingers, eyes focused on that. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you lately… really.”
“Of course!” he responds, moving back a bit to get a proper look at your face. “You know I’d do anything for you.” You chuckle at his exaggerated words, letting go of his hand and ruffling his hair instead.
“I’m glad to have met you again,” you continue. “But… I’ve been thinking, you know? And I don’t think we can go on like this.”
“What…?”
“Just… I’m only gonna get busier, you know…?” The exact moment that he sits up, his comforting touch being torn away from you as he stares at you with disbelief on his face, you inevitably begin to feel like you fucked up. But you started this now, and there’s no way you could dig yourself back out of this mess, so you decide it’d be for the best to just see it through and be honest with him. “You know that I could never pay you back all that you’ve done for me… Hyuck.” You call out his name, but he barely even reacts with nothing but a blank expression in his eyes. You could’ve sworn you’ve never seen him this pale. “I’m gonna graduate, Hyuck. You’ll still be a student when I start working. Hell, I might have to move somewhere completely different if I don’t find a job in this city soon. And once I do find employment, I’m gonna have to work my ass off to prove my worth. I won’t have time to fool around like this anymore…”
“Fool… around…?” he repeats, speaking slowly, as his expression suddenly reflects a hundred complicated feelings. “Fool around… was all this is to you?”
“I mean… we’re friends too, obviously-”
“Y/N,” he cuts you off, and the way he says your name stabs you like a knife. “I have feelings too, you know. You can’t just…” A bitter laugh escapes him. “You’re going to tell me that it’s better if we didn’t see each other anymore, aren’t you?”
“No!” you immediately refute. “I mean-... look, we can stay friends, but I don’t know how much we’ll actually be able to see each other-”
“Friends?” he repeats in utter disbelief. “You don’t realize it, do you?”
“Realize what-”
“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I love you.”
“What…?” That is all you manage to reply to his confession. You really did never notice it, and so this comes as a shock to you. You realize that maybe him saying he’d do anything for you wasn’t an exaggeration at all, but you didn’t think he’d keep this fuckbuddy thing up if he had feelings for you all along. As if he had read your mind, he says,
“I’m sorry… I-... I didn’t want to tell you like this…” he speaks, his head hanging low now. “Not when I know you have a thousand other things to worry about, but… I just couldn’t… you said all these hurtful things. I don’t think you know how much hearing all that just now hurts.”
“I-,” you begin, but you don’t know what to say. You stare at him in utter disbelief for a moment, and then all of a sudden, from one second to the other, you feel like you’re going to suffocate if you don’t get out of here as fast as possible. “I… I can’t do this right now.” You get up off the bed and zip up your jeans. Your head is in chaos and your emotions are all jumbled up, but the one thing you can clearly feel is the anger burning in your veins. You truly are upset that he dropped such a bomb on you just before exams start and you need a clear head more than anything. “I’m going home… sorry,” you mutter under your breath, and without another look back at the guy who can’t do anything but watch as you’re slipping out of his grasp once again, you walk out of the door.
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“Good luck for your exams” You let out a sigh as you finally delete the notification of the message Donghyuck sent you four days ago as you’re on your way to uni for your last exam. It’s Friday noon and you can’t wait for all of this to be over, the beginning of winter break feeling like you’re finally about to reach the safe shore after you’ve been almost drowning for weeks. 
You didn’t talk to Donghyuck for the entirety of the week - of course, or you would’ve long answered his message that he sent you on Monday. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, you didn’t even dare open the chatroom. Instead, you had focused on the necessities to get you through this week: sleep, eat, revise everything you studied, be on time for your exams, rinse and repeat. And now that it’s already the last day of this nightmare, you can’t wait to simply crash into bed once you arrive home tonight. 
It’s true that you’ve been feeling the relief after every single exam you finished, like some of the weight was taken off your shoulder with each time you walk out of a lecture hall. And yet you still feel the tiredness in your bones, but there’s something else tugging at your limbs and trying to make you stop running from one task to the other. However, you don’t let it. Too big is the fear of what you might find if you do stop and have a look, so you force all thoughts out of your mind that have nothing to do with your exams. And today as well your mind is empty when you take your seat and you’re handed the paper you’re supposed to fill out during the next one and a half hours, trusting your memory and your ability to recall the correct answers you have studied to each question.
As you’re leaving the lecture hall, finally done with the last one of your exams, somebody calls out to you. You turn your head to find one of your friends catching up with you, greeting you with a lively expression on her face.
“We’re finally done,” she says. “Now we only need to wait for our final paper to be graded and then we’re free!”
“Yeah,” you respond, trying to sound cheerful but inevitably failing. You’re just tired at this point, and no matter how relieved you are that exams are over, you can’t bring yourself to be happy.
“What’s with you?” your friend asks, concern in her voice. “Do you have to redo one of your exams?”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” you assure her, but she doesn’t buy it. 
“There’s something up with you. Did studying take that much out of you?”
“I guess,” you reply as you walk down the hallway with her, but then you hesitate. “Actually… nevermind.”
“Hm? Y/N, what is it? You’re being really weird.” She steps in front of you, making you halt on the spot, but eventually she keeps walking. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t pressure you to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“...it’s about a friend,” you admit finally.
“A friend?” she repeats. “Did something happen to them?”
“No, just… we just haven’t seen each other much lately, and… yeah.” You lower your head and she steps closer.
“That must be a very good friend if you miss them so much,” she states, matter of factly, and that’s when you feel a stab right to your heart, putting you in physical pain.
“Right…” you mutter. Without you realizing, Donghyuck’s presence has painted your ordinary days in a color of hope, wrapping you in a feeling of safety whenever you’re with him and making you become way too comfortable around him. And now that it’s come this far, you don’t know how you’re supposed to scratch off all that paint anymore. The thought alone makes you feel sick to the stomach - you shouldn’t have been such an idiot. You knew where this would lead, and that you wouldn’t have the time to fool around with him anymore once you’ve graduated. A feeling of deep regret overcomes you. 
You shouldn’t have said yes when he suggested leaving your class reunion together.
When you get home that day, you finally let yourself feel the full consequences of the past weeks filled with stress and you crash into your bed immediately. You haven’t planned to go to sleep this early, but at some point you simply find yourself drifting off, and the next time you open your eyes it’s Saturday morning. 
Your body aches as you force yourself to get out of bed, and when you open the curtains and the sunlight blinds your eyes, you curse existence itself. You trod over to the bathroom, wash your face, and after finding yourself unable to look at your reflection in the mirror, you return to your little kitchen to get yourself a simple breakfast. Finishing it while scrolling through social media on your phone, you then get yourself back to your bed, plummeting down on it and grabbing one of the books stacked atop your bedside table that you never found the time to finish while uni has kept you occupied. You open it on the page you had left off weeks ago, and after fighting your way through roughly two and a half paragraphs, you give up and you put the book back to where it’s been resting untouched until now. Your mind just won’t let you focus on this now, so you pick your heavy body up off the comfortable sheets and decide to take a shower first of all.
Things continue like this for the next few days. Even though exams are finally over, you just can’t find it in you to rest properly. Neither going out to have fun nor staying at home and having some quality alone time sound appealing to you, and soon enough you figure out why. No matter what you do or where you are, there’s this constant pain in your chest dragging you down, because time and time again you find yourself impulsively wanting to tell Donghyuck about your day, or even just sending him a funny meme you found on instagram. But you can’t. In a way this reminds you of five years ago, when you started spending less and less time together in high school and then eventually broke up with each other. You recall finding yourself in situations like this back when you started college as well, wanting to tell him about something fun or exciting that happened but feeling unable to, because it’s already been months since you had last talked. However, there’s one significant difference between then and now. 
Then, you merely found it a shame that you couldn’t freely text him or talk to him anymore. But you had moved on, finding new friends to talk to about those same things. Now, it’s like someone had torn a chunk of yourself out of your chest, and you’re slowly bleeding out as your nervous system prevents you from doing anything at all, signaling you that there must be a more urgent matter to take care of first. And only once you come to understand that this matter has to do with nothing other than Donghyuck himself, that’s when something finally connects in your mind. Your days have been painted with his colors, but maybe you’re not supposed to get rid of all that paint. Maybe you’re simply supposed to embrace it, because after all those years he’s become someone who’s just right for you. And maybe he’s become someone you can even come to love.
No, he’s already someone you love, you just never realized it.
Without thinking, you open your chatroom with Donghyuck, his last message still unanswered, and you start typing.
“I need to see you.”
“Now.”
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You stand on his doorstep, taking a deep breath. Donghyuck had texted you back eventually, offering to meet at his place, so that’s where you are now, nervous to ring the doorbell. It was you who suddenly decided to come see him, so why are you so hesitant?
Another deep breath, exhaled shakily, and you reach out to press the bell button. Maybe 10 seconds later, the door opens, and when Donghyuck mutters a greeting with a distant expression in his eyes, it’s like a slap to your face.
“Come in, I guess,” he says as he’s already turning around, and you do as told. Taking your shoes off, you follow him a few steps inside, and shooting you a cold look, he asks, “What do you need to talk about?”
You’ve never seen him like this. Even when you broke up at the end of high school there wasn’t such a dark expression on his face. At that moment you have no idea how to shake off the guilt anymore, and so all you can do is let the words burst out of you.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for doing this to you.” He watches you with a look over his shoulder and you let your head hang, hoping he isn’t aware of the way tears are welling up in your eyes. “I can’t imagine how much I must’ve hurt you.” You add those words through gritted teeth, afraid of a sob suddenly making its way past your lips if you’re not careful.
“Then why are you the one crying?” he asks, staying surprisingly calm.
“B-because…” You gulp, and figuring that it’s too late anyway, you lift your chin to look at him and you use the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Because I’m an idiot. And I don’t want to see the person I love suffer.”
“Y/N…” he breathes your name before turning around fully to face you. He steps closer, but still keeps a good distance between you two. “You rejected me only a few days ago…”
“I know.” Your words are merely a whisper now. “Because I was scared… the future seems so overwhelming that I kept thinking I don’t have space for something like this. But… that doesn’t mean… that I didn’t still fall in love with you.” Silence follows, the only sound disrupting it being the soft sigh Donghyuck lets out before he finally closes the distance between you.
“Can I… hold you?” You nod at his question and you let him come closer, until you find yourself safely wrapped into his embrace, his warm breath tickling your neck as he buries his face there. 
“I’m so sorry for how I acted… you must really hate me now…” you mutter, and you’re almost startled when your friend lets out a laugh as he’s holding you.
“Yes, because I always go around hugging my enemies like this,” he says with a tired yet cheeky grin on his lips, and seeing that expression on his face suddenly washes all your worries away.
“Right…”
“It’s okay, Y/N… I know you had a rough time. I shouldn’t have confessed to you so suddenly either,” he apologizes, but you immediately shake your head, vigorously.
“No, don’t say sorry! I… I kind of get it… that it had to get out,” you say. “Especially after I said all those hurtful things to you.” He brings one hand up to your cheek, brushing his knuckles against the skin there and as his eyes scan your facial features you can unmistakably see how much he adores you. It makes your heart soar, and you part your lips as your gaze falls to his mouth.
“Y/N,” he calls out to you. “Does that mean… I can ask you to be my girlfriend now?”
“Sure…” you mumble, the urge to feel his lips on yours clouding your mind. “And when I’m your girlfriend… can you kiss me then?”
“Of course,” he chuckles, and he takes a tiny step away from you so he could take your hands into his, intertwining your fingers. “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?” You can’t suppress the smile that creeps onto your face as you listen to his question, and you nod.
“Yes, please,” you answer. “Let me be your girlfriend.” And then he kisses you, slowly and carefully, and this time you aren’t confused on what those feelings he’s pouring into this kiss are. This time you know that it’s all the love he has for you, and you let it wrap you into a veil of warmth and comfort, feeling safe with him.
“I love you,” you mutter in between kisses, and eventually your hands find their way up into his hair. You kiss him back as you comb through it, and when you hear him whisper those same words back at you in between kisses, you once again can’t control the smile on your lips. You part to look at each other, finding an unmistakable desire for more behind his gaze, and so you begin moving as you connect your lips to his again.
"I'm sorry..." you mutter in between kisses, as you're steering him towards the bedroom, and he lets out a sigh against your lips in response. "I want to make it up to you."
"You don't have to," Donghyuck mutters with his hands on your waist, and you reach the bed, positioning yourselves so you could have him sit with one swift push against his chest. Crawling on top of him as he merely looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted while he awaits your next kiss, he's already completely drunk on you.
"Then see it as me taking care of you?" you whisper, reconnecting your lips to his. Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and him having his hands securely placed on your sides for stability, you merely keep kissing like that. Unhurriedly, because now you both know there's nothing rushing you anymore, nothing that would tear you apart.
"I love you." He mutters those words as you part, and when you open your eyes you can see him already nervously peeking up at you. You can't help but smile endearingly, cupping his cheek with one hand before you lean in for another sweet kiss to his reddened lips.
"I love you too, Hyuck," you say just when you pull back, and you let your fingertips wander down his upper body. Watching his face closely for his reactions, you pull his shirt off him, tossing it to the floor, and then you add, "Lie down for me, baby. I'll make you feel good." It comes as a surprise even to you to see him obey so quickly, and you let your palm glide down the bare skin on his chest and abdomen as he lies back. And then, when you reach for his wrists to pin them against the bed right next to his head, you can see a slight but still apparent blush creeping onto his cheeks, and he lets out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a quiet whine.
"Fuck, you make me go crazy," you mutter as you press another kiss to his puffy lips, and when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip he moans into your mouth, the act alone sending heatwaves through your body. You instinctively roll your hips on top of his, earning yourself another small mewl from him, and then you trail kisses from the corner of his mouth to his throat. He leans his head back to give you better access, brows furrowed as he sighs in contentment. Forming his hands into fists, he digs his nails into his palms and whines some more as you continue grinding down on him, and the way you feel him grow underneath you turns you on as well. And then eventually you let go of his wrists to work your way down, peppering kisses all over his chest as he immediately throws his arms around your body, holding onto you tightly. 
"Hyuck..." you call out his name as you sit up briefly, and then you continue trailing nips and kisses down his body. "Let me hear you." He curses as your hand ghosts above his core, watching you with an expectant gaze in his eyes. You pull down the sweatpants he's wearing, and then his underwear, both just enough so his hard length is exposed. You wrap your fingers around him, and you kneel above him now, one of his thighs positioned between your legs, so you could get a good look at his face as you start to slowly jerk him off. 
"Look at me," you demand, and he does, the blush returning to his cheeks.
"Faster..." he mutters, barely audible, and you teasingly ask him to repeat himself. "Faster, please..." he begs through gritted teeth, and when you tighten your grip on his shaft just a little bit, he responds with a moan. "Can't take it..."
"Are you gonna let me hear more of those pretty moans?" you question, lips quivering in anticipation.
"Y-yes..." You don't know if your mind is tricking you or if his blush is growing just a bit darker as he answers, but either way you begin to move your hand faster, having him whining underneath you as he throws his head back. You watch with your lips slightly parted, and it's not like you've never seen him like this before, but there's just something about the way he gives himself up to pleasure when you have him in this kind of position that always gets you going. You move your hips in tune with the speed at which you get him off, grinding your clothed core down on his thigh, and he pushes his leg up just a bit to give you more friction.
"Shit..." you hiss, pleasure clouding your mind, and Donghyuck reaches down to wrap his fingers around your hand, guiding you into a faster pace. You collect the precum leaking his tip and use it as lube to glide down his length more smoothly, and as you can see on his face that he's about to lose himself to the sensation, you mutter a warning, "Don't cum yet."
"But-" he whines, and you take your hand away just before he can reach his high. "Y/N..." he desperately whines your name and you lean in to press a soothing kiss somewhere onto his chest, and then another one against his cheek.
"I wanna have you cumming inside me," you whisper, and when you sit back up you quickly rid yourself of all your clothes, in the end helping him out of his pants as well. You crawl on top of him, your hands placed on his shoulders for support, and you let out a curse as you roll your hips against him, his tip rubbing against your folds. And once again he whines, pressing his eyes tightly shut and digging his nails into your hips. 
"Just fuck me already..." he breathes, but you have other plans.
"Be good and I will, baby," you coo as you repeat your motion without letting him slip inside you. He begins to squirm underneath you, visibly fighting to suppress his orgasm, and you swear you could cum from the sight alone. "Fuck... you're so fucking hot like that, Hyuck..." you mutter through gritted teeth, his repeated whines sounding like music to your ears.
"C-can't... hold back..." And once again you stop the stimulation just as he's about to cum, and with a frustrated groan he throws his head back into the mattress, dragging his nails down your skin. You reach for his hands, and as you intertwine your fingers you pin them above his head, and you can't but coo over the desperate look he gives you, and the way his cheeks are reddening again.
"You gonna cum right when I take you in, aren't you?" you ask, smirking at him after pressing a kiss to his forehead. "So desperate for my pussy..." And he can't do anything but whine at your words, because you both know you're right, and him denying it would just make him look stupid. "Then cum for me, baby," you mutter against his lips as you seal them with yours, running your tongue along his mouth to deepen the kiss. You sink down on him, taking in his size with ease, and the second you start rolling your hips he releases inside you as he moans into your mouth. Heat rushes through your veins when you part and you sit up, letting go of his wrists and combing the fingers of one hand through his disheveled hair instead. 
"Didn't think you really would cum the instant you're inside me," you mock him, earning yourself another whine from him. "And I bet you're also gonna be hard again in no time if I keep this up," you mumble, rolling your hips on top of him slowly. "Such a sucker for when I'm in control, huh?"
"Yeah..." he breathes out, and you unexpectedly feel your heart swell at his answer. Usually he'd be fighting back by now, trying to battle you for dominance or at least being bratty, but today you really just have him at your mercy unconditionally.
"Is it because I finally said that I love you?" you conclude, as if he had heard your thought process.
"Huh?" You run your fingers through his hair again, and then you lean in for another deep kiss.
"Do you like it that much when I play with you like this, or are you being good because you're scared I'll leave if you're not perfect for me?" Donghyuck stares at you for a while as you sit back up, the blush on his cheeks fading, and when he finally reaches out to you to press your body against his for a tight embrace, he answers,
"No, I trust you. And I kinda like it when you sometimes use me." A storm of emotions washing over you, you bring some distance between you and him slowly, and after mustering his genuine expression for a while, you reach for his hands once again.
"Don't touch me," you order as you put them back into their place above his head. "And don't cum until I tell you to. If you wanna be my little toy you gotta be good, alright?"
"Alright." He gulps, taking you in as you're sitting on top of him, starting to ride him with one hand sliding down your body, fingertips reaching your core to give yourself some extra stimulation. Eyes dripping with honey, he keeps his hands in place, and the more you can feel him growing inside you, the more you can also see him struggling to keep his composure.
"Fuck, you're so sexy," he mutters eventually, and you hum a praise to signal him to keep going. "Feels so good... wanna be good for you..."
"That's right..." you mutter, your eyelids fluttering shut as you bounce on top of him, rubbing circles onto your clit. You position yourself so that everytime you sink down on him his tip would graze that perfect spot inside you, and along with listening to his words and the way his voice starts shaking from the pleasure has you seeing stars soon enough.
"U-use me, please... wanna feel you cum on my cock..." he sputters, and you moan at his pleas.
"Doing so well for me, baby... shit, nobody could ever make me feel as good as you..." He whines desperately as you keep your pace slow, in hopes of bringing him as close as possible to the edge as you're racing towards your own high. "Hyuck..." you mutter his name, your voice trembling. "Cum with me." Another moan falling from his lips and you feel yourself shaken by your orgasm, clenching around him as he spills inside you a second time. 
"Shit..." With a curse you collapse on top of him, finding him wrapping his arms around you in a comforting motion, and you add, "You were amazing." He nuzzles his face into the side of your head, lips brushing against your temple, and once you've caught your breath a bit you give him a proper kiss. "I'm sorry... for trying to push you away like th-" Donghyuck puts his index finger across your lips, shutting you up in the process, and with a soft smile he shakes his head.
"Stop apologizing," he says. "It's okay now. Let's focus on the future, and how we can build it together." His hand cupping your face and his thumb brushing against your cheek make your heart skip a beat, and you simply nod.
"You're right," you respond, and you lie back down on top of him, nestling into his chest. "If we just have each other, we can make it through anything."
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marklease · 2 months
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bff dreamies walk in on you changing
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i image this taking place at like an airbnb or group vacation somewhere 😭 your friend def feels conflicted afterward, cheesy golden hour reference bc why not
requests still open enjoyyy 😁💕
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drunkdrazed · 27 days
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daily texts with bf haechan!
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a/n: hi !! this is my first writing post, so constructive criticism is appreciated 🫡 also, not sure that i like it too much since i made it with memi message and the formatting is just so weird 😭 anyway, pls lmk if you enjoyed!
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unipuni128 · 2 months
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excuses 7dream would make to see you
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Mark
“I made a song, can I come over so you can listen to it?”
Like cmon, mark will be making tons of songs that expresses his love towards you. Mark’s two favorite things combined together is literal heaven for this man. This is the perfect excuse for him to see you and enjoy music. Will be serenading you A LOT so be prepared. I also think he’ll make a mixtape of all the songs he made that’s dedicated towards you so you can listen to his music + think of him.
Renjun
“your boyfriend misses you, please come over or whatever”
Renjun knows you’ll come. Who wouldn’t? A simple text from him would make your body automatically head straight to his house. Or maybe renjun will come over to your house with flowers. He’ll be so sweet and the two of you will end up cuddling together and drifting off to sleep.
Jeno
“Let’s hang out”
Jeno seems like he wouldn’t know what kind of excuse he should make so he just sends you a simple text like this. But when he gets to see you, he has a cute date prepared for you. He’ll plan on eating ice cream together, going to a flower field and making you a flower crown (he watched tons of youtube videos for this), and ending the date with seeing the sunset together.
Haechan
“I think I’m sick can you please come over and take care of me”
Straight up lie. He might not lie sometimes but I feel like haechan will use this excuse ALOT just to see you. Haechans going to be like “oh hey, I was waiting for you! Oh? Me sick? I think I’m fine now, but let’s hang out since you came” when you come over, cuddles and watching you twos favorite movie 24/7.
Jaemin
“Hey princess, I ordered some cat costumes online and it arrived few minutes ago, wanna unpack and dress the cats together?”
The costumes were indeed arrived not few minutes ago, it arrived few days/weeks but jaemin wanted to enjoy unpacking with YOU so jaemin waited for the perfect timing. When you come over, you’ll see tons of cat outfits that jaemin ordered and it’ll take all day getting through every single one of them(jaemin planned it that way). You’re focused on the cats but jaemin is focused on YOU. He’s looking at you with heart eyes hoping that you’ll always be by his side spending time like this.
Chenle
“I hate to say this but daegal misses you very much, wanna hang out with me and daegal?”
Daegal does miss you but Chanel misses you more. Chenle could straight up say he wants to see you but where’s the fun in that? He’ll either text you or go to your house with daegal and say “oh I just happen to be on a walk with daegal and your house was around so I had to come”. He’ll probably invite you to walk with him & daegal to spend more time with you because he could never get enough of being around you.
Jisung
“Y/n, today’s a great day to go star gazing at this place I found on the internet, can you please come with me to go there today???”
Every time jisung wants to see you, he’s going to take you to places bc he can’t find any other good excuse to make. Like it’s a date atp(kind of similar to jeno). He’ll get all tense and awkward bc he’s still shy with you but jisung tries his best to act cool and puts tons of effort.
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hyuckiefluff · 4 months
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Hiiii! May i request a mini fic where the femreader loves to play with jeno's hair. Can u add a little fluff to it? 🥹
I love ur fics so much! Thank u! 💗
thank uu for requesting!! feedback is greatly appreciated <3
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pairing: lee jeno x fem reader
cw: none! unless ure like me and lovey-dovey couples trigger u lol im jk!!! no but writing this rlly had me kicking my feet cuz i can vividly imagine jeno being like this irl
wc: 500+
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With the TV light casting a soft glow around the room, you tugged the blanket over your and Jeno’s bodies after feeling him shiver slightly, cocooning yourselves in its coziness.
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt? It's like -5 outside, babe," you looked down at your boyfriend, who was sprawled out on top of you on the couch. His arms wrapped tightly around your frame, seeking warmth in your proximity. You both were having a lazy day, watching the Bob Ross channel since you got called off work due to the snowstorm.
"I prefer your warmth," he mumbled, his voice sounding a bit slurred since half his face was buried in your chest. "Actually, you should take your shirt off too. I heard it's the best way to fight off hypothermia... skin-to-skin."
"Hypothermia is a bit of a reach, and please, stop being such a horn-dog for two seconds."
"Can't help it," he replied in a raspy tone, his slow blinks signaling that he was on the verge of falling asleep.
You smiled fondly, and your hands instinctively moved to his back, where you began to scratch. He groaned in satisfaction, and you could feel his leg twitch a little. It reminded you of a puppy when you rubbed its belly.
"You like that?" you inquired, and he responded with a contented hum.
Your hands traveled up to his shoulders, massaging his tense trapezoids. "Ahh, baby, that feels amazing," he slurred, his head growing heavier on your chest, a clear sign that he was relaxing more.
"Should've done this yesterday after your workout," you pointed out, your fingers expertly working the knots in his muscles. You noticed how tense he was and how he flinched a little when you pressed too hard.
He only managed a noise in response, lost in the bliss of your ministrations. Your fingers found their way into his messy locks, and he sighed contentedly. You knew he loved it when you played with his hair the most.
"Your hair's grown a lot," you said, grabbing onto a particularly long section.
"Yeah, I should cut it soon," he replied casually.
"You will do no such thing, sir," you declared.
He snorted at your sudden seriousness, but when you remained silent, he looked up and cooed at your frown.
"Baby, you said it yourself, it's getting out of control," he teased, laughing at your dramatics.
You rolled your eyes playfully. "Just say that you hate your girlfriend..."
His eyes softened, and he reached up to cup your cheek, his touch warm against your skin.
"You're so cute, and you take such good care of me, how could I ever hate you?" he murmured, his gaze filled with affection.
He raised himself slightly, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on your jaw. Your attempts to be fake-mad at him never lasted long, especially when he did sweet things like this. You reciprocated by pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. This led to a playful kiss battle, each peck and smooch more intense than the last until you fell defeated, collapsing into a fit of giggles when he playfully attacked your lips with his.
masterlist
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lucyandthepen · 8 months
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love on the floor - i. | njm
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exactly when does vice president na turn from the company’s worst nightmare into your favorite daydream?
pairing: chaebol!na jaemin x secretary fem!reader rating: vaguely M, but will very quickly escalate into a hard R in coming chapters genre: romance, fluff, (eventual) smut (in later chapters), chaebol!au warnings: jaemin isn’t really a total asshole but he isn’t great at the beginning either and i think that should be a warning, there’s probably some language use that deserves a bit of caution i GUESS, but tbh nothing much here because we want to pretend that this is a fic of chaste circumstances and not a lead-up to raunchy, depraved smut  word count: 16.4k
author’s note: first of all, the development of this fic is absolute SHIT because i love context too much and refuse to shut up at the beginning only to get antsy for the ending so if the pace is a little stop and go … it’s because i’m a Fewl !! and i totally own up to that !! and second of all, this is actually just a set-up for about two more shorter (?? what’s shorter) works that i’ve already been wanting to write but felt like i would be remiss in doing so without some kind of build-up to the relationship so :^) here we are ! heavily unbeta'd and miss lucy is a bit rusty but we carry on for the sake of enjoying oneself (and practicing writing once again) muah enjoy!
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At least this job gets you free medical. 
Actually, all things considered, this is an excellent job with limitless benefits. You never have to worry about the three-level insurance, you have monthly paid-for visits to the dentist, and you sometimes get to use the company car for personal errands for as long as you meticulously check everyone else’s schedules and butter up the head secretary, Son Seungwan, just enough so that she feels mollified enough to let you have this favor (but not too much to the point that she catches on and gives you a ten minute lecture on the rising prices of gas post-the-turn-of-the-decade). Your rent’s well paid-for, and the apartment you’re staying at is comfortable, albeit a little smaller than most, although that’s just because you prefer spending your money on once-in-a-lifetime type things, like front row seats to a Paul Kim concert. You get 50% discounts at the company cafeteria, which boasts a pretty nice salad bar with more than just perilla leaves as the greens. The bathrooms even have luxury soap installed into the automatic hand dispensers, so you always come out clean and fancy smelling. 
All in all, the job’s pretty perfect, to the point that you don’t think leaving will ever truly be in the cards — except for the fact that you barely see your boss, which, as nice as it sounds on paper, is actually the most stressful part of the position. 
You’ve always been of the opinion that if Vice President Na Jaemin put his mind to something, he’d actually do it very well, but the running issue is that he hardly ever puts his mind to anything, especially when it comes to work. In fact, the only thing he ever seems to take seriously is having eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep, which you personally think is an extremely hard thing to achieve, leading you to the firm belief that if he channeled that energy into something less dead-to-the-world and a little more productive, things would be amazing. 
And maybe things would also be a little less distressing if his family would just accept him for who he is instead of expecting too much (or, actually, anything) from him, but Vice President Na is the only son of the family that owns the largest telecom company in the country, so his parents have a ton of huge expectations for him. His father, in particular, is clearly trying to prepare him to take over the entire business, something that the Vice President clearly isn’t keen on doing, based on the many arguments you’ve had to sit through alongside Head Secretary Son. The result is a lot of tension that’s only exacerbated by the Vice President’s desire to avoid more conflict, which he does by suddenly disappearing from the office for hours — sometimes days — at a time. 
So for as much medical, dental, and reasonably priced caesar salad as you’re getting from this job, you’re not entirely sure how worth it those things all are if they come with the task of you having to sit through twenty minutes of lecturing in place of Vice President Na Jaemin himself. 
“This is the last time,” President Na roars — not necessarily at you, but at you, in your general direction, while you stand helplessly in front of his desk, your hands folded across your lap and your head hung low. You don’t really feel terrified or hurt — more than knowing that the President isn’t shouting at you for your incompetence, you’ve also gotten used to being on the receiving end of these weird, indirect lectures and have thus come to know the exact standard of ‘sorry’ that you have to look for it to be over as quickly as possible. Still, you’re kind of annoyed that this particular spiel is taking up precious minutes from your afternoon break. Then again, you don’t know what you’d expected to begin with when you’d come back from the cafeteria after lunch and found the Vice President’s chair abandoned, leather cold, indicating that he’d been gone for quite a while. It’s about four o’clock now, and he still hasn’t come back, and all your messages to him have gone unread, as you’ve also grown used to. “You tell my no-good son if he isn’t back within the hour, he can live the rest of his life without my last name.”
You’re not sure if the implications of that will really sink into the Vice President’s heart enough to trigger the guilt it’s clearly trying to elicit, but you know better than to voice your opinion. You nod once, then bow at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Four years of this, and he hasn’t learned a single thing,” the President continues, completely ignoring your useless and vaguely insincere apology. “Where’d he run off to this time?” 
You don’t know. You never really know. Since he actively tries to avoid all work-related things, he also actively tries to avoid you, something he does by never picking up the phone or telling you the details of his daily schedule anyway. You can only share what you do know, which is very little and, therefore, extremely useless, but you try to say it in a way that appears relatively helpful. “His schedule says he was supposed to have lunch with the foreign investors that are trying to connect Prime Video to the Korean market, but it seems he didn’t show up for that.”
Which essentially translates to: you have no clue. Again, all parties in the room — inclusive of Head Secretary Son, who constantly has to bear witness to the many threats Vice President Na receives via you — know this isn’t your fault, but it doesn’t make the vein that’s about to pop out of the President’s temple any less pronounced, nor does it stop you from bowing and apologizing again when he says “get him back in here before five o’clock or tell him he’ll never be able to step foot in this building again!” even though you know that the threat would probably sound more like a gift than anything else to Vice President Na. 
“And you,” the President points a vaguely accusatory finger at you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “If he isn’t back here at that time, you can kiss your job goodbye too. You go ahead and tell him that. Let’s see if Jaemin will finally get off his ass if he knows someone else is going to have to suffer for his behavior.” 
The only person who sees your jaw fall open is Head Secretary Son, who’s now leading you away from the President’s desk and towards the door; the President has taken to staring at this huge family picture of himself, his wife, and the Vice President that’s hanging just behind his executive’s chair, all looking considerably happier than anyone in this situation feels. You hear him mutter something that sounds like “where did I go wrong with you, you punk?” before the door shuts close behind you.
“I’d say he doesn’t mean that, but we don’t actually know to what lengths he’ll go to get the Vice President on board.” Head Secretary Son admits, lifting two fingers to gently shut your mouth, still agape. “If I were you, I’d figure out how to keep him on a leash. The fact that he’s never around is probably ninety-percent of our current problems.”
“I can barely get him to respond to schedule reminders,” you groan; your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose like this will somehow stop the oncoming migraine. “Let alone get him to stay still. I was just about to put in a down payment for a car of my own, too.” 
You’ve never really been considerably attached to this job, mostly because there isn’t much to actually attach yourself to, but if you think about it now, it really is better than most, and this economy isn’t really kind to people who get fired from their jobs. You feel like puking at the thought of losing the free unlimited coffee in the pantry and trading it in for a life behind a convenience store counter, which is probably where you’ll end up, pessimistically speaking.
You excuse yourself from Head Secretary Son, who has the heart to look a little pitying as you trudge towards the elevator. You don’t even know where you’d start looking for the Vice President, especially since he spends quite a lot of his efforts trying to avoid having to communicate with you. You don’t even know what his habits are, which means you can’t make educated guesses on where he might have run off to, so the only route to go is to look in the immediately surrounding area and widening your search diameter as time passes.
Until five o’clock, of course — a deadline that, if unmet, will likely mean you also won’t be returning to the office either. 
You start off at the nearby bookstore, extremely skeptical that the Vice President would ever willingly go to a place that requires more effort even after you make a purchase. As expected, he isn’t there, but he isn’t in the nextdoor candle shop (also unlikely) either, nor do you find him in the hand-cut noodles shop next to that as well. You walk down the entire street for a good twenty minutes, pressing your face against the windows of stores shamelessly, to the ire of many startled and disgruntled staff, trying to look for a familiar head shape in the small crowds in them, but to no avail. Then, you think about calling him again, but when you pat the pockets of your jacket, you realize your phone is still on your desk, where you’d left it when you’d been summoned to see the President. With a loud groan and an annoyed clip clop of your heels as you stamp your feet on the pavement, you walk back to the office. 
In your frenzy to find the Vice President, you’d gone quite a distance, and your shoes simply aren’t made for long, aggravated walks; they start hurting your feet halfway back, and you’re pretty sure you have a blister behind the strap of the left one. Pride would tell you to tough it out, but you’d thrown that out at the thought of losing your job at the expense of a single man, so you don’t even hesitate to take them off and run back to the building. The big digital clock above the elevators says you have ten minutes left to find your boss, and you start thinking about using that time for better things — like packing your stuff up neatly in a box for when you get sacked. 
With the situation seemingly hopeless, you trudge to the first floor cafe, where the return counter has a pitcher of water and a stack of tiny paper cups. They’re tiny tiny, like the size of your thumb, so you have to keep refilling it just to start feeling a little more human. 
You’re on your third refill when you hear a giggle come from across the space. The barista’s just finished laughing at what must have been an extremely hilarious joke, or she might be flirting with whoever’s leaning over the counter to talk to her. A whoever that seems to be the exact same height and build as the elusive Vice President of this company. 
You accidentally toss the paper cup in the plastics bin in your desperation to get moving, worried that if you’re not fast enough, he’ll disappear into thin air again. Luckily, his attention’s completely focused on the barista, so he can’t go anywhere when you finally reach his side and huff, loud enough to interrupt what seems like an intimate-ish conversation between them. 
“Sorry, I was just — oh, it’s you.” The Vice President’s smile fades when he sees it’s you, someone he can’t charm out of what they’re supposed to be doing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the Vice President smile at you in any capacity, anyway, except for maybe one or two slightly sarcastic smiles that are probably more fit to be classified as grimaces. “What do you want?” 
“I’ve been looking all over for you, sir,” you say, stiffly and a little quietly because you still don’t want to embarrass him in front of the slightly confused barista. “You haven’t answered my texts.”
You don’t have any way to check, but you’re pretty sure this is a safe enough assumption, which is corroborated by the Vice President bringing his phone out and checking the screen lazily before turning it back off. 
“Sorry. I don’t answer unknown numbers.”
You guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to save your number when he hates hearing about work, which is all you really try to communicate with him about, but it still stings considering it’s been two years and you’ve been using the same number since high school. It’s fine, you think. You really can’t expect much from him. 
“Well, your father’s been looking for you, too. He wants to meet you.”
“I’ll take a rain check, but thank you.”
“Sir,” your voice quivers with poorly quelled exasperation. “This isn’t an optional thing. This is very serious.” 
“I can see that, Briar Rose,” his eyes are trained towards your shoes, still dangling from your grasp, with a level of unabashed amusement. “Did he summon me from deep within the woods, or is this a new casual Friday look I should get in on?”
When his words are met with a stony silence, he sighs, pushing himself off the counter. His half-finished Americano is collecting a small pool of condensation under it, and you offer him the little handful of tissues you had gotten from the return counter and had originally been planning to use to wipe your tears in case you cried after getting fired so that he doesn’t waste time looking for something to hold his cup. He takes them without even a word of thanks, opting to instead say ‘lead the way, miss.’ You don’t miss the fact that he meets the barista’s eye with a considerably more genuine grin, raising a hand in goodbye to her before he strides ahead — before you even get a chance to lead the way at all — towards the elevators with you, hobbling on one foot to slip your shoe back on, not far behind. 
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The President’s office must be sort of soundproof for instances like this. For the first time, you’ve been asked to wait outside with Head Secretary Son as the Vice President gets chewed. It doesn’t matter; you don’t really want to be in the middle of yet another round of shouting that has nothing to do with you in the same afternoon, plus you also know how the conversation usually goes: the President making very agitated threats and talking about his heart condition (even though the medical reports from their private doctor say he’s in perfect health) that the Vice President, who just spends the time looking boredly at his nails, will inevitably trigger. When you press your ear to the door for a minute, you actually hear something like ‘... strike you out of the will so that when you kill me, you won’t get a single won!’, and you can imagine Vice President Na’s exasperated sigh punctuating the statement. 
Ten minutes later, the room has gone quiet, and you step aside just in time for the Vice President to open the door and step out. You don’t even understand how he can look so unaffected after being ripped apart, but you suppose he’s also heard the lecture as many times as you have and is pretty much immune to all the insults. He doesn’t really have to make a show out of not caring, though, with his hands in his pockets and his lips pursed to allow him to whistle idly as he strolls down the hall to his barely used office. He’s been in it so few times that after long, inexplicable vacations, he sometimes forgets how to get there. You’ve always had to walk behind him just in case he gets lost or, worse, tries to make a run for it. You’ve never had to tackle him to the ground reciting the Miranda warnings, or anything, but he has faked left a few times just to give you a mild heart attack for the fun of it all. 
This time, he just walks, not bothering to joke you into trying to create a human wall he could just as easily push away. When he gets to his office, he lazily plops down onto his couch, extracting the Rubik’s cube he’d been working on for a few weeks now from underneath himself and spinning the top layer idly. He’s only ever finished the blue side. 
You just stand there, kind of perplexed and unsure of how to start the conversation. He’s still whistling, and you’re not sure if talking over him will count as interrupting him, which isn’t something you’re supposed to do. Thankfully, he stops after about two minutes of fiddling with the yellow side of the cube, looking up at you with a slightly surprised expression that somehow makes you want to cry. 
“Can I help you with something, Secretary ___________?” 
“Well, I…” You stutter for a bit, unsure of how to politely point out that he should be asking you for help with his job instead of the whole other way around. “Because… I just thought…”
“You can always leave a message with my secretary if you need time to figure it out.” He grins. “Oh, wait a minute.”
“Sir, don’t you think you should… I don’t know. Figure out your schedule, or something? Prepare for… anything?” 
“What’s that smell?” He lifts his nose to the air, suddenly curious, and because he looks so serious, you also start sniffing, but you can’t really smell anything out of the ordinary. “Smells… fresh. Very clean. A little like green tea.”
“Oh.” You awkwardly shift your weight from leg to leg. “I think that’s my perfume, but I don’t see w—”
“You smell very expensive, Secretary _____________.” He sounds genuinely surprised that you do, like he’s somehow saying he hadn’t expected you to have good taste. You have no idea where this conversation is coming from, so you chalk it up to him wanting to derail you from talking about work. “I like it. Very classy. Not too strong.”
“Sir, I don’t think now’s the time to be talking about perfume scents.”
“You’re actually quite pretty.” He sounds genuinely surprised again, but this time, it stings a little more. “I never noticed that before. How come?” 
You want to say that it’s because he spends most of his time and energy playing long-term hide-and-seek with you, but there’s also no polite way of putting that into words; even if there were, with the way you’re now bristling under his gaze, you’re not really sure you’d go the courteous route, anyway. You just decide to ignore the comment and question entirely, which you almost get to do.
“Wouldn’t you like to take a look at some of our upcoming projects? For instance, we’re just about to start negotiating the terms of this new partnership with Huawei —”
“You’re pretty, but you’re also pretty tense.” He cuts you off again, now looking a little dejected at this newfound information. You can’t understand why this disappointment in you actually hurts your feelings a little. “I think the cafe downstairs serves some tea, if that kind of stuff helps you.”
“Sir,” the one syllable is laced with weariness, and you knot  your fingers together in front of your lap. It probably looks polite, but it’s mostly so that you can feel like you have some semblance of control over anything, even if it’s just your own body fighting off the urge to grab him by the collar. “Please. If you could just take a look at your schedule — even just for tomorrow —”
“What’s the point?” His shrug is nonchalant, and he’s turning the cube over in his palm now, more interested in looking at it than witnessing your tired expression. “It’s almost six o’clock. I’ll deal with tomorrow tomorrow, you know what I mean? If my dad finally loses his marbles, I’ll deal with it all then. In fact, I might actually be okay with losing this department if it finally actually gets him off my back. I’ll also deal with that when it happens, probably.” 
Another long, uncomfortable silence blooms as his words sink in; not for the first time today, President Na has threatened the existence of your job, now alongside a good twenty other people’s, all for the sake of snapping some sense into the Vice President. However, like everything else, it seems to just be backfiring; Vice President Na doesn’t seem to care about anyone else in this department, most likely because he’s barely interacted with anyone else. You’re surprised he even remembers your last name, considering he once called the department accountant ‘Heejin’ even though her nametag clearly spelled out ‘Jinhee.’ 
It makes sense that the threat of abolishment means absolutely nothing to him, but it doesn’t make the knowledge of that any less distressing. He watches you curiously as you tug back at your ponytail, like it’ll once again stop the crawling migraine. 
“Sure a cup of chamomile tea isn’t in the cards today? I think I have the company card in here somewhere, although I can’t be sure that it hasn’t been cut off, based on my dad’s last threat—” 
“I’m fine; thank you.” You mumble, checking the clock. He’s wasted what’s left of the hour anyway, and the lack of change in his position just means he’s not going to change his mind for the rest of the time. “At least let me give you tomorrow’s agenda.” 
“Boring, but okay. Give it to me, then.” He yawns to make a point, and you offer him the tablet you tote around with you everywhere you go, just in case Vice President Na finally decides he wants to do his job. To clarify: that’s two whole years of you carrying that heavy thing around, with the Vice President only having touched it a handful of times. You’re mildly shocked that he actually opens it to check, because he barely does even that, but that all goes away when he yawns again, his expression glassy as he scrolls down aimlessly. “This is a lot. Can’t you just clear my schedules tomorrow? Actually, if I can make demands for real, I’d like to clear out my schedule for the rest of the year.” 
He stretches when he stands, ignoring your slightly agog expression as he pats you on the back, smacking his lips sleepily. “Good day’s work, Secretary _____________. Want to grab a beer? Have ourselves a little intra-department party? I’m pretty sure ‘intra’ stands for ‘us two,’ or am I wrong?”
You sincerely hope he doesn’t mean a goodbye party, but with his attitude right now, that might very well be. You shake your head, and he shrugs, like he wasn’t really expecting you to agree in the first place. “No thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
He’s already halfway out the door, waving dismissively with his back turned to you. When you peek out of the space he leaves by opening the door, you can see about half the entire department’s watching, not even bothering to pretend to scurry back to their seats as he saunters out of the office. He calls out to you, his voice ringing clear even though he’s already out of sight. 
“We’ll see about that.” 
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You come up with a master plan, but not before you scope potential jobs. 
You actually stayed an hour overtime at your desk looking for positions, but all of them pay lower than average or are about an hour’s commute away from where you live, so none of them seem worth it. The search ends when some people from the department come over to say goodbye and see your computer open to SaramIn, at which point they connect the dots and start to panic about their insurance. You shut your monitor off and spend another useless twenty minutes calming Jinhee, who’d started having a mild panic attack. 
In that time, your resentment builds. Why can’t Vice President Na simply get his act together? You suppose that there’s some indescribable burden to being in his position, but between him, a rich heir who owns two sports cars and lives in a paid-for house, and you, a public-transport-using, pays-by-the-month nine-to-five worker, you can’t really understand why he would be having it worse than everyone else who works under him.  If he worked even just half as hard as everyone else did here, he might scrape by. 
You can’t know if President Na’s anger was only short-lived or if he actually meant to downsize the company by getting rid of your department entirely, but you also know that if he’s serious, then there’s nothing much you can do about it, short of terrorizing the Vice President into stepping into bigger shoes.
So, that becomes your master plan.
It isn’t very refined, mostly because you think about it on the bus home, but the heart and spirit are there, and those are probably the most important things anyway. It’s that heart and spirit that motivate you to get up an hour earlier than you usually do, dressing quickly for the day before taking the company car from your place to downtown Apgujeong. You usually don’t take it on days that Vice President Na doesn’t come into work, which is practically every other day, but this time, you’re determined to see him into the office. The ride with Hyunsung, his official company driver, is quiet, save for the question he asks when you roll up to the Vice President’s driveway. 
“Are you sure about this?” 
“No,” you admit. He’d probably seen you chewing down on your thumb, some of your confidence taking a hit when you belatedly realize you could be shot with a huge privacy lawsuit if this doesn’t go the way you plan. But you do know a lot of secretaries that do the morning calls for their superiors, so this should be fine. Not that you’ve ever heard from those secretaries ever again. 
Vice President Na’s laziness seems to extend to all aspects of his life, including the fact that he doesn’t ever change his door’s passcode; it’s still the same numbers as it had been when he first bought the house a year ago and had you install his lock while he was missing in action from work, yakking it up with some farmers up in the Netherlands. He likes to do that — ‘see the world,’ or whatever, even though his wanderlust makes everyone else’s lives very difficult. At least it makes your life easy now, and you step through the door and walk quietly across his unnecessarily large living room. 
You’ve never been in here exactly, and you only realize very belatedly that this house’s design would be very frustrating for a break-and-enter criminal because nothing seems to be where it’s supposed to be. You learn the owner’s suite is actually on the basement floor, so all the climbing of those slippery stairs was for nothing. 
Vice President Na’s bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, which also means he has a sizable bed and, thus, is completely out of sight under his gigantic covers. The only indication that he’s even still in there is that they’re rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. You stand by the edge of the bed, on the side he’s closest to falling off of, clearing your throat at the tuft of hair peeking out from under the comforter. 
“Vice President Na? It’s time to go to work.” 
Your voice has been tempered down by years of this professional work, and this is easily the loudest and most demanding you’ve ever heard it. You’re not even sure you can do it again, but the muffled groan from under the covers is all the motivation you need to try. 
“Sir, you have a ten o’clock meeting with Samsung’s representatives for Apple. President Na also asked that we contact Amazon right away to reschedule the Prime Video deal.” 
“How,” his voice comes out first before he does, squinting up at you, completely disoriented. “The hell did you get in here?” 
“Sir, I’m your secretary.” You sigh, skimming over the fact that you’d walked into his big kitchen twice through two different entryways before coming into his bedroom. “I’m supposed to be able to get in here.”
“Except this is a first.” You think he’s about to get up, but he just shifts his weight, rolling over so he can cocoon himself tighter into his blankets. “Goodnight. There are eggs in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“I’ve already eaten, like a normal, functioning human being with a very important job that starts precisely at nine o’clock would.” 
“This seems like a very targeted comment, Secretary ____________. I’m not sure I appreciate it.” 
“Since we’re already having this conversation, I’m guessing you’re conscious enough to get dressed.”
To your relief, he actually does throw the covers off of him, leaning up on his elbows. You try not to balk at the fact that he’s shirtless, although you’re also not sure why this should surprise or bother you to begin with. He doesn’t even seem to mind; he just yawns, wide and unashamed, as he looks over at the clock. 
“It’s seven-thirty. This is insanity.”
“No, this is a wake-up call.” You offer him a neatly folded towel that he eyes suspiciously. “We need to get you in the office on time.”
“There’s really no point,” he sighs, scratching his head idly. “It’ll just be another boring day of talking to people I don’t care about. Someone who cares about it should talk to them. You care about it, don’t you?” 
“I won’t talk to them for you, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because, frankly, I don’t get paid enough to be doing that.” 
He once again stares at the towel like he’s trying to will it to evaporate, but in the end, he only sighs louder and takes it from you, kicking his blankets off completely. You look up at the ceiling, not in prayer but to avoid the more embarrassing fact that he’s only in his boxers after all. Well — it’s embarrassing for you. He doesn’t even seem to care. 
“Something’s different.”
“Usually I don’t wake you up,” you offer the painfully obvious. “Or come here. Or talk to you.”
“Yeah, all that stuff,” he says dismissively, halfway through a yawn. “Did you have a life-changing experience recently?”
“Something like that.”
“Couldn’t it have been one where you decided to leave me alone for good instead?” He grumbles, more to himself instead of to you. It doesn’t matter, anyway; you already see he’s up and fishing socks out of his drawer, so you’re marching out of his room to avoid having to hear more of his complaints (and, quite frankly, to avoid looking at his broad back). 
However, the day thereafter doesn’t go as planned. You thought that waking Vice President Na up for an early day of work might shock him into doing something with the knowledge that it was urgent, but you’re not sure why you didn’t anticipate a scenario in which he’d fall asleep in the car on the way to work and you’d have to shake him into waking in the stuffy parking lot. He spends the rest of the morning out of sorts, ignoring you point blank when you try to brief him on the meeting. The meeting in and of itself doesn’t go any better, with him excusing himself fifteen minutes in by saying the pitch doesn’t seem all too exciting and innovative. You didn’t even know he knew the word innovative and, by the shocked faces of the Samsung people, they were of the same mind. 
By lunch time, you’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and a part of you is wondering why you wanted Vice President Na in the office in the first place when you’re already used to the much simpler routine of get up, work, eat lunch, get yelled at, work again. Sometimes, on slow days when Vice President Na is completely out of town for the week and President Na is out of things to yell at you about, you even get to just sit back at your desk and play old crossword puzzles. 
Now, you’re basically handholding him, but the weight that keeps him down is so heavy that you’re being dragged down, too. 
“You mean people do this every single day?” He shuts the folder with a contract that requires his signature that you’d given him just now, not even bothering to peruse the first page, much to your rapidly increasing ire. “This is ridiculous. Working makes no sense.”
“All employees come to work to do that, sir. It’s literally what makes up half their lives.”
“Except it shouldn’t,” he sighs, like this is a true global issue and not a problem of his own making. “Everyone needs to be able to do what they want and live life to the fullest.” 
“Not everyone can,” you point out flatly. “Some people don’t have the luxury of time even for that.”
“Then, they should. The more I’m in this situation, the more it feels like it might be better for everyone to have a little work break for — I don’t know. The next year or so.”
Vice President Na has his arm outstretched, handing the folder back to you. You don’t know if it’s what he says that causes your blood pressure to rise, or if its the completely unconcerned look on his face, or if it’s the fact that he’s holding the folder so lazily that the papers are starting to slip out on your end, requiring you to use two hands to keep them all from falling apart and creating a mess you’ll end up having to clean up anyway. Whatever it is, you snatch the folder from him with a little more aggression than necessary (or that you’d even care to admit). Even though it’s out of place, you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph at the slight surprise in his eyes. 
“Did I say something wrong?” 
“No, sir.” You pause, mostly because you can tell he doesn’t believe you — Vice President Na is nonchalant, not stupid — and you want to give yourself a little bit of time to grapple with your pride before you admit the truth. “Yes, sir. It isn’t fair to your entire department for you to talk that way.”
“I’m saying the entire department doesn’t have to work this hard. It’s senseless. How are you supposed to live a good life if all you’re doing is sitting behind a desk?”
“Like I said, not everyone has the luxury of living your life. If they want even a little bit of that comfort you enjoy, they have to work very hard for it first.” 
“Then they should at least do something they enjoy. If this department goes down the drain —”
“If this department is abolished,” this is your first time interrupting a superior, and it already makes you want to throw up. “Then people will have a very difficult time finding a job in this market. More than that, a lot of people enjoy working for this company — quite genuinely, in fact. I don’t think it’s right to think that they’ll be happy while they’re jobless and floundering in this economy.”
“So you’re happy like this? You really want this job — this whole working under me situation?” 
“Well…” you trail off, your voice taking on a slightly thoughtful tone. It’s been a relatively long time since you’d entered this job, but you do faintly remember the feeling of excitement at getting this position — the desire to want to learn from the best in this industry, the anticipation of being able to meet and network with interesting and important people. Your first few weeks of work had involved wanting to spend as much time in Vice President Na’s shadow, in case you could pick up some important business tidbits from an entrepreneurial master… until, of course, you realized there wasn’t much you could stand in the shadow of to begin with. “These days, it isn’t ideal. But this job is a really good thing for most of the people who work here.”
“Then it sounds like you have more to gain from me working hard than I do.” 
You can’t contain your disapproving frown, and your voice comes out a little sharper than you intend. “Doesn’t it bother you at all, sir? Knowing almost twenty people could lose their jobs in the blink of an eye? Think about all the people who look up to you and rely on you — they’ll have to suffer because of this. They might never find a job that matches their needs, and a lot of them have families to take care of, too. If you can do something to make sure they have these good lives you keep talking about, why not do it? I know you’re capable of that. You’re capable of doing much more than what you’ve been doing thus far.” 
Vice President Na is quiet for a moment before leans over on his desk, lacing his fingers into a loose combined fist and putting his weight on his forearms. One of his forefingers detangles itself from the pile of digits and curls inwards, beckoning you closer. Your grimace is probably obvious, and you lean in a little warily. He lifts himself off his chair slightly so he can whisper in a low voice, as if you two aren’t the only people in this wide office. 
“If you care about it so much, then ask a little more nicely.” 
Your light breakfast almost makes a reappearance, and you draw back in mild shock. He also leans back, significantly more relaxed than you, looking unperturbed as he settles back against his chair. You two engage in a very uneven staring match, until he gestures for you to proceed, looking expectant. 
“You want me to beg for my job?”
“Not what I meant, but I could accept that,” he hums. “I just think you could throw in a please while you’re guilting your boss, at least.”
Gawking probably doesn’t suit you, but you do it anyway, wondering how you managed to find yourself in this position. This morning, you had been strictly guiding him through what to do, and now you’re paralyzed in front of the Vice President, feeling very foolish for saying so much out of turn. You couldn’t even get through a whole work day before seeing your grand master plan slip down the drain.
But there is, at least, some small comfort in what he said — the part about guilting, which, if you squint hard enough, seems to be implying that this conversation has left him with a small amount of guilt. You don’t think it’s that much, but it’s a miracle he feels it at all, so you take the horribly subtle win and inhale deeply.
“Please, sir.” The words are very thick and reluctant, unsticking from your throat. “This department really needs you.” 
He stares, very unnervingly, without saying anything, but there’s something in his gaze that makes you vaguely certain he’s actually thinking about it. In fact, he actually looks a bit serious, which isn’t anything you’d ever think you’d be able to characterize him by. That impression easily falls apart when he claps his hands, once but very loudly, startling you into jumping a little. 
“Ah, how could I turn down such a nice request?” Vice President Na is grinning from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen him do in the context of the office, much less a few feet away from you. His smile is actually kind of nice, if you don’t think about the fact that it seems to be smug at your expense. “Since you asked, I guess I’ll have to try my best, or whatever it is people do in this damn company. I guess that means you owe me now, Secretary ____________. You’re very welcome.” 
The silence that once again blooms as you stand, motionless, in front of Vice President Na is suddenly interrupted by the sound of chairs scraping back all at once. The floor vibrates a little as the entire department troops out to the elevator area so they can go to lunch. You only watch stupidly as he also stands, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it over the back of his chair. “See you, then.”
“Where are you going, sir?” 
He looks a little surprised that you even ask. “To lunch. Do I have to ask for your permission for that, too?” 
“Are you… coming back?”
“You want to come along with me and make sure I don’t run away?” He smiles even wider, which you didn’t even think was possible. It makes you awkwardly uncomfortable to know he’s taking a lot of pleasure in joking around with you, mostly because you were kind of hoping you’d get him to take things seriously in a serious manner, not in a … whatever this is that’s making you feel like you’ve lost a game manner. 
“A little bit.”
“Ask a little more nicely, then.” 
“Never mind,” you mumble. “Have a good lunch, sir.” 
He snaps his fingers a little comically before turning to the door, flinging it open so he can join the now thinning throng of people leaving the floor. “Thought I almost had you there. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. Or not.” 
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In the end, to your utmost relief, Vice President Na does, in fact, stay inside the entire time he has lunch. You’re not sure if this is the product of you sitting two tables away, trying to will an imaginary chain to his wrist so he doesn’t bolt off or because he’s still feeling a little affected by everything you said earlier on, but whatever it is, it works. He just eats his club sandwich in peace, picking off the crust easily and double dipping the fries that come with it in his ketchup. At some point, he looks up and notices you burning holes into his torso, so you quickly have to avert your eyes in shame. You think he laughs at this, but you can only see out of your peripheral vision at this point, so you can’t be sure. 
You’re supposed to have one hour for lunch, but he eats quickly and gets up before the whole hour is over, so you end up throwing your half-eaten wrap and following him. Again, you’re not sure what’s funny, but he’s chuckling to himself as he holds the elevator door open, waiting for you to run in next to him. 
“Relax, miss secretary. I already said I was going to do my best.”
“No offense, sir, but I don’t know what that looks like, so I have to be careful.”
“Fair enough.” He hums, letting the door close on its own. “But you should still take it easy. You’re pretty t—”
“Tense. You said so yesterday, sir.”
“That’s two times you’ve cut me off in a single day.” He doesn’t sound very annoyed about it; in fact, he’s still got that amused, inside joke tone to everything he’s had all morning. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gunning for an insubordination report.”
You don’t think that’s fair for him to say, especially since you haven’t really had much of an authority figure to be subordinate to for most of your career in this company, but you keep your mouth shut since saying so is exactly what would be on the first line of an insubordination report. 
When you arrive back at his office, you take the time to discuss what you should be doing from now on. It’s an extremely messy exchange, with you two grappling between terms you can’t agree on. For instance, Vice President Na thinks that it seems only fair that he should really only be coming in after one o’clock, but you’re insistent on making sure he gets to work on time, since most important meetings happen within that time period (a fact he already seems to know but chooses to ignore anyway). You end up agreeing on bringing him in for the standard nine-to-six for as long as he never has to work overtime. You also find it necessary to iron out the fact that if he has lunch outside, he has to actually come back, a statement he once again finds very amusing for some reason, as if you’re the weird one in this conversation. 
And to his credit, he tries to stick to his word. It isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially not during the first couple of weeks, but you suppose that habits are very difficult to break when they’ve been so easy to acquire and nurture over many years. More than once, you’ve arrived late to meetings to the disapproving gazes of Head Secretary Son and President Na. However, the latter finds he has less to say these days because Vice President Na’s presence in said meetings had, before this time, been nothing but a pipe dream for everyone. 
You also notice he starts taking the time to ask about things he doesn’t understand, as opposed to his initially brash or sometimes completely unresponsive approach, which has turned out better results when it comes to business lunches with investors and potential partners. Even the Samsung people, who are extremely wary of him during the callback meeting, come out of their next encounter with the Vice President looking vaguely more satisfied than they did the last time (the bar isn’t that high, considering they’d left shell-shocked previously, but you’ll still take the improvement).
Of course, with all the time you end up spending with, chasing after, and vaguely lecturing (only when the need truly arises) Vice President Na, you also learn some things about him that you hadn’t expected, like how he doesn’t really like milk in anything he drinks (but especially coffee) and that every third Sunday of the month, he meets his old high school friend Lee Jeno, the son of the guy that owns half the residential high rise condominiums on this side of the Han. Apparently, they play badminton together — he had told you that when he’d caught you wondering about the super out of place little kid’s karate trophy among other more adult, official ones in his living area. The trophy goes to whoever wins the match of the month, and according to the Vice President, he’s been ‘wiping the floor with that bastard’s handsome face for half a year straight.’ Although you can’t verify this by anything more than the slight blanket of dust on it, you think it takes nothing out of your pride to applaud him like this is an amazing thing. It also does you no harm to see him swell with misplaced pride about a kid’s karate trophy. 
You also notice that despite how healthily he eats at the office, he has a bad habit of craving deep fried food in the afternoon, which is why, over the last few weeks, you’ve been accompanying him to the corndog street stall two blocks away, a few days a week. He’s even had to borrow loose change from you a few times to because he always forgets that no street vendor likes to receive crisp, fresh-out-of-the-bank fifty-thousand won bills, but you just let him have it; his heart’s in the right place when he orders an extra one for you without even asking. You realize that he has a fairly good memory for as long as he’s concentrating, and that he likes to spend late nights watching the shittiest horror movies ever known to man (his words, much to your bemusement), and that when he listens attentively to you telling him about the day’s agenda, his left ear twitches a little when your voice hits it. 
Somewhere along the way, you realize that Vice President Na is a charming, outgoing, and fairly capable person, and in doing so, you also realize that he seems to be, for lack of a better word, your style. 
You can’t really believe it either, and you’re not even sure when it started. In between sitting with him in the company car and handing him forty-page agreements he has to look over carefully (very carefully, as you’ve taken to reminding him, so often that he starts saying it before you do now, which has only somehow endeared him further to you and not annoyed you the way you were sort of hoping it would), the small non-work related part of your consciousness had decided that it needed a more complicated situation now that things were going relatively well.
To be fair to yourself, liking him isn’t a huge distraction; most of the time, you’re both so engrossed in something you desperately have to finish that you don’t even have time to think about it. Instead, it kind of catches you off-guard, like when he’s double dipping his french fries into his ketchup, or when he smiles at you (politely to him, probably, but overwhelmingly charmingly to you) before he leaves the office, or when his brow’s furrowed in (a total shocker) concentration as he reads. 
Then again, everything about Vice President Na seems to be catching you off-guard these days. This much is proven by the fact that instead of the normal silence that you’ve grown accustomed to being greeted by when you enter his house, there’s a lot of noise coming from one area that can only mean either that someone had broken in to mug him or for some reason, he’s up before you need to wake him. 
It’s nothing you have to call 911 for, but it still paralyzes you to see him, surrounded by opened jars and a particularly dirty bread knife as he stands in front of his fancy toaster, drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently. 
“If you have a minute to spare, could you bring my laptop into the car?” He asks without turning around. His hand, still holding the bread knife, points towards the bar counter on the far end of the kitchen, where the laptop is still whirring away. 
“Of course, sir. Um,” you gingerly shut the monitor, putting the laptop to sleep and tucking it under your arm. “Were you… working this morning?”
“No, I was playing a riveting game of bridge against the computer AI.” He turns to you, grinning. “Of course I was working, miss secretary. What do you think I’d be up this early for?” 
You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind — Vice President Na hasn’t ever woken up early for anything to your knowledge, anyway — so you just nod and bolt, unwilling to bear witness to his smile this early in the day. When you come back, particularly less red in the face, you find him topping one of two sandwiches with the last slice of bread to complete it. He takes one, as you expect he would, and you stand there, trying to look polite as you essentially observe him eat.
This isn’t something very unusual; ever since the first time you’d done it, you’ve been watching him out of habit. So far, only the motivation’s changed from you wanting to make sure he doesn’t bolt to you simply enjoying the view of his profile when he eats. Of course, he probably doesn’t know this, but he’s also just gotten used to you watching him and probably finds it funny — as suggested by his perpetually amused expression — that you still think, after all this time, that he’s going to make a run for it. You don’t actually mind it; you get to watch him for free, and he has something to laugh about, so everyone kind of wins. 
He’s halfway through the sandwich when his expression turns quizzical. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Eat,” you echo hollowly. “Eat what, sir?”
“A delicious, handmade, gourmet peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich.” When you don’t move, he pushes the plate with the untouched sandwich forward towards you like he thinks you can’t understand anything he’s saying. “What? Are you allergic to something?”
“No, but…”
“But?”
There’s no but; you don’t have a good reason to decline other than the fact that accepting it feels weird, but refusing him when he’s looking at you this expectantly is just as awkward. You rub the back of your neck as you walk over, not missing the look of triumph that crosses his face as you pick up the sandwich and take a bite. It’s good, but you don’t really think that has anything to do with his culinary skills, based on what it is; still, he looks like he’s patting himself on the back for this feat. 
“Thank you, sir.”
“Secretary ____________, I hope you can count this as a momentous occasion for the both of us.” He chuckles. “You get free breakfast made especially for you by your direct superior in the comfort of his own home, and I finally get to learn what all the settings on my toaster are for. Between you and me, I think mine’s the better achievement.” 
You’re still in the middle of eating when you laugh, and you hastily raise a hand to cover it — only Vice President Na catches your wrist halfway through, so quickly you vaguely choke on the bread that’s only partially down your throat.
“I’ve never seen you laugh,” he looks as surprised as you feel, although probably for a different reason. “I don’t even think you’ve ever smiled at me, specifically.”
“Oh.” You need time to respond, mostly so you can swallow but also because you need to collect yourself from your shock. There seems to be a lot of that going around this morning. “Sorry. Should I do that more often?”
“I mean, if you ask like that, it’s kind of disingenuous,” he laughs. “But I like it. I like knowing you’re not just in a constant state of stress because of me. Feels even more momentous than the toaster thing.” 
He loosens his hold, and you manage to take your hand back, now refusing to meet his eye. “I’m not… stressed by you.”
“Not anymore.”
“Not anymore,” you agree, and he looks particularly delighted when he sees the corners of your lips turn up again. “Not for a while. And not that my opinion matters, but you’ve been performing above expectations, sir.”
“You’re right,” he hums, taking the plate and putting it in the sink — a problem he seems to be saving for later. “It doesn't matter. But I like it, all the same.”
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You’re willing to chalk the morning off as a wonderful anomaly, especially since the rest of it passes as it normally does, with a generally quiet car ride (you’ve also learned that Vice President Na likes to listen to rap music on days when he wants to avoid falling asleep in the backseat, which is equal parts amazing and amusing) and a fifteen minute briefing of what he has on his plate today. He disappears for the better part of the morning and even the whole lunch hour, but you expect this because he has a business lunch with the representatives for some Norwegian appliance company that’s looking to break into the Korean market. You can’t imagine many people want a state of the art rice cooker alongside their monthly internet bill, but it’s polite for him to go anyway, and the prospective partner seems very on edge about company secrets. It’s one of those meetings you aren’t allowed to come along to, which means that you’re missing out on a few hours of Vice President Na trying to iron details out with a couple of old guys. 
While you eat, you’re once again struck with the random notion that it feels weird not to be around the Vice President. You’ve been working together regularly and in a very close capacity, which basically means that you’re always in his shadow. It’s the life you were kind of hoping to have at the beginning and were deprived of for a good two years. Now that you have it, it feels weirdly natural — so natural that it’s unnatural to not have his voice ordering you around in that easy tone or his aftershave lingering in the air directly above you. 
You throw the tissue you used to wipe the oil from your egg toast off your mouth onto the table, crumpled and wilted. 
You miss him, which is ridiculous considering you don’t even know what there is to miss. Your relationship, while admittedly lightyears ahead of the starting point it had been at back then (again, not a great standard, considering you didn’t even have a relationship before this period of time), is nothing close to the point of being what it should be for one to miss the other. 
And yet, you look forward to seeing him, watching him do something from afar, helping him whenever he needs you. You like the fact that he still sometimes fakes left when you’re accompanying him back to his office, and you do this thing where you pretend to be annoyed even though it makes you happy to know he won’t go anywhere. You like the little sounds he makes when he eats his super unhealthy corndog as if he’s eating it for the first time every single time (see: very unnerving and slightly disturbing but altogether amusing mmmmmmmmmms). In fact, if you didn’t have a vivid memory of telling him off from way back then, you feel like you could easily convince yourself that things had always been like this — that you two had always been together, happily at work. 
You’re not surprised that he isn’t back from his meeting even when you get back to your desk after lunch, but you do feel a pang of dejectedness that lasts for a few more hours — time which you spend lazily looking over a contract he’d signed yesterday that needs a fair amount of amending and re-signing. It’s hard to pretend to care today, for some reason, especially since your mind keeps going back to peanut butter sandwiches and some ridiculous vision of Vice President Na standing in the middle of your tiny studio apartment’s kitchen area. 
Your reverie’s broken when an envelope falls onto your desk, covering the page of the contract you’d been glassily staring at for the last hour and a half. You’d drawn the same circle about twenty times already, and the paper’s all dented from your efforts. When you look up, Vice President Na is staring down at you, grinning from ear to ear. 
“Miss me?” He drums the envelope, the paper muffling the noise of it all. “Oh? I was joking, but it looks like you actually did. That’s twice in a single day, Secretary ____________. You’re setting a very high record.”
You try to tamp down the smile on your face upon seeing him, clearing your throat so that you have an excuse to press your lips together. You guess it doesn’t work because he just keeps smiling, anyway, or maybe he’s just in a really good mood. “Did your meeting go well, sir?” 
“Is Lotteria the national fastfood chain? Too bad I don’t work for anyone because it kind of feels like I deserve some kind of reward.”
“Could we say that this partnership is its own reward?” 
“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he sighs. Once again, his forefinger taps the envelope, calling your attention a little more clearly to it. “I know we’re on a tight schedule for this, and I hate to ask this so late of you, but —”
“Of course, sir; I’ll have it in your hands first thing tomorrow.” 
You’re already gathering it up along with your other (vaguely unfinished) paperwork when his whole palm comes down, trapping the envelope and everything else you’d been intending to carry under it. Your hands go up like you’re being held at gunpoint, your eyes wide. 
“On second thought,” Vice President Na muses, a little too serene for someone who’d just scared the living daylights out of someone else. “How about I take care of the Samsung deal you’re looking over, and you can handle the Norwegian contract?”
“I haven’t… really made a lot of headway with it, if I’m being honest.” You’re hoping he doesn’t ask you why because you’re too embarrassed to come up with a lie on the spot and will inevitably have to confess your random attraction to him under these terrible circumstances if he does. Luckily, he just shrugs.
“All the more reason to split the work, then.”
The still mildly stern part of you is begging to point out that he’s giving you a whole new set of documents to look over anyway, so it’s not even like you’ll have less to do, but the larger, more endeared part of you tells it to shut up and mind its own business. “I thought the crux of our agreement was that you’d never have to work overtime.”
“Because I look like such a stickler for the rules, don’t I?” He snorts, waving you in with the same envelope, and you concede.
Working next to Vice President Na isn’t anything new to you; you’ve been doing it everyday for a while now, especially if he needs you to be quick on call. Ever since you’ve realized his presence makes your heart beat a little faster, you’ve promised yourself not to let that fact show at all when he’s around, something you’ve been quite careful about perfecting. 
Something’s different, though, when it’s after official hours. Maybe it’s because the floor is quieter than it is during the day, so there’s nothing you can listen to but the sound of pen scratching on paper and Vice President Na’s steady breathing. The only real interruption is when Hyunsung knocks on the door to ask if the Vice President is going home; the look on his face is panicked and confused, like a puppy that’s just been dropped off at the mouth of a dumpster site, when he’s told that Vice President Na will drive himself home, so he can just leave the keys. 
Maybe it’s also because it’s pretty dark outside, and while you’ve worked into the night a few times, it’s usually alone or with some other poor sap that has even more backlog than you do — it’s never been just you and the Vice President, who seems supremely unperturbed by the fact that he isn’t at home doing… whatever he does at home after work. You can only guess at it (or wish you knew). 
That makes one of you that’s keeping busy, although you know it should be two. The fact that you’re distracted by his presence all of a sudden is only exacerbated by the mutually exclusive headache that the paperwork you’re looking over gives you. You don’t know why you had expected it to be in Korean, but you and your intermediate level English struggle to keep up with all the little things you have to look through. Sometimes, you can’t tell if the clauses are actually confusing or if you’re just the poor product of your middle school education. It strikes you more than once that Vice President Na had gone through this, somehow, himself — talked to people in a completely different language, probably with ease. You can at least be proud of yourself for being right: for as long as the Vice President puts his mind to something, he’s able to do it — perhaps even well. 
What shocks you after an eternity of silence is the hand that extends towards you, forefinger lightly nudging your chin. You sit up straight like a bolt of lighting had gone through you, meeting Vice President Na’s thoroughly and inexplicably amused expression. Your jaw slackens in shock, but his finger just stays there, like it isn’t invading your personal space. Like it just belongs there.
“What are you doing?”
“What—” you splutter, bemused at the fact that you hadn’t asked the question first. “What are you doing?”
“You keep moving your mouth. What — are you praying or something?”
“No, I —-” You gesture at the contract page you’ve been trying to stumble through for the past twenty minutes. “No, I’m just… I’m reading?”
“You’re…” The start of a laugh escapes him, and you really don’t know what’s so funny. “You’re reading aloud?”
“I wasn’t making any noise, I think,” you grumble, sounding a little more defensive than you’d care to admit. 
“You read silently aloud, then.” His eyes twinkle at this information, although why it should elicit this reaction also completely escapes you. “Why? Because it helps you memorize it or something?”
“My English isn’t that great,” you admit begrudgingly, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Sometimes I need to mouth the words to understand it.”
And he does the most outrageous, inexplicable thing: he gently cups your chin, making sure you can’t turn your head to look away in embarrassment. Now you have to look at him, red in the face and close to exploding. 
“Don’t you think that’s a little too much, miss secretary?”
You can’t ask what; your voice isn’t working. You just open and close your mouth around the syllable, and after a couple of attempts, he starts copying you, evidently having a better time than you are based on the grin stretched across his face.
“What? What? That you’re doing something this cute in front of me is what I mean. You’re obviously going overboard, and I don’t think it’s very nice.”
He retracts his hand as quickly as he’d used it to close the distance between you, and your hand immediately comes up in its place, almost cupping your jaw like he did. It definitely doesn’t give you the same tingly feeling, so that’s an obvious bust.
You and Vice President Na have a sudden staring contest with amended rules: you blink a hundred times a minute at him while he laughs quietly, leaning back on his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It confuses you and kind of enrages you, but you also find your heart thumping away in your ears like it’s trying very hard to remind you that Na Jaemin makes you feel alive. 
“I— I just—”
“Coffee? I could use some coffee. You look like you could use some too.” He stands, buttoning his blazer with one hand like he has someplace important to go. You’re still so shell-shocked that you don’t even try to stand up to help him, a fact which he notices very clearly. “Oh no, I’ll do you this favor. You sit tight and read your contract. I’ll be back. Keep doing that cute thing with your mouth.” 
Vice President Na finds you exactly as he left you: still wondering if you should be offended at his teasing or enamored by his touch and, more importantly, what the hell his deal is. You have a million questions that need answering, but the only thing you blubber out when he comes back is “Why?” 
“Because you’re amazingly fun to tease,” he responds simply. “And because it’s true. I find it extremely cute. I find you very cute, Secretary _____________, in a kind of good girl, cool girl kind of way. It’s a little confusing to me too, but I think this slightly stern but overall gentle aesthetic of yours is actually growing on me a little.”
“Sir, I—”
“While we’re taking a break,” he interrupts you. You guess it’s probably the right time for a break considering there’s no way you can work in peace now. “Do you constantly have to call me that?” 
“What else would I call you?”
“My name,” he suggests, taking a sip of coffee. You ignore the shit, that’s hot that comes out of him as he puts the paper cup down gingerly on his desk, looking a little bit betrayed by his drink. “Jaemin. Many people call me that.”
“People who are close to you, you mean. Like your family or… your friends.”
“Are you saying you don’t think we’re close? Or that we aren’t friends?”
“Sir, I work for you.” 
“So by that alone, we simply can’t be friends? Et al?I think you really are being too much now, Secretary ____________.” He folds his arms across his chest, tutting disapprovingly as he leans back on the edge of his desk. You try not to think too hard about the fact that he does it very close to you, at an angle optimal for viewing the leanness of his form. “After all those times you broke into my house—”
“To get you ready for work.”
“— walked into my bedroom—”
“Only whenever necessary—”
“— gone through my things while I’m half naked in bed like you’re trying to organize a charity drive—”
“Because you need to get dressed, not because I have some perverted agenda —”
“—eaten the food off my kitchen counter, too—”
“You told me to!” You get to your feet, the contract slipping from your lap in your enthusiasm to defend yourself. “You offered it to me!”
Whatever happens next is completely out of your control, and you know this because the room spins without you moving by your own will. Vice President Na must have been an expert dancer in his past life, or something, because after that one dizzying moment, you find yourself leaning against the edge of the table he had been just a second ago. Warm hands are on your waist, tucked under your cardigan, the heat bleeding through your shirt. 
And the Vice President’s smile is inches away from your face, still mischievous but much gentler than any other time before. 
You’re not sure if you’re paralyzed or if you just don’t want to move, but the reason doesn’t affect the outcome: all you can do is stare up at him, once again dumbfounded after a small outpouring of words that ends in some kind of forced defeat. Except this particular surrender doesn’t feel so sore, for some reason. 
“Even when you’re angry, you’re still pretty, you know that?”
“I wasn’t… angry,” you mumble under your breath, afraid that talking louder will scare him off. You don’t even think he’s listening all that much to you, considering that all he does is tuck your hair behind your left ear and completely change the topic. 
“So, tell me, Secretary ____________. Is this still a situation where we’re not close at all?” He pauses for a moment, probably to let you answer, but you don’t say anything. You’re pretty sure your swallowing nervously is the only true sound you make. He seems to be eager to do a lot of the talking anyway, which is absolutely fine by you. “Or have I completely misread all your cute little signals?”
“Well — no, but I didn’t send any signals.” Obvious ones, at least. You’d been pretty sure you had tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible, but you’re starting to realize it’s a little possible you’re not as great at pretending as you think you are. 
“Not on purpose, probably. Although you really almost got me with the one-man show vibe you have during lunch hour.”
“I… didn’t think you knew, if I’m being honest.” Honesty is the only thing you have right now, anyway, especially since Vice President Na has pretty much confirmed, in his own way, that he knows about how you feel. Now you can only wonder if he’d noticed before you even came to terms with it yourself, and the thought of that being a real possibility urges you to grab the still-steaming cup of coffee and douse yourself with its contents. 
“For a while, I was pretty sure you were messing with me. I would never,” he adds just as you say it too, mimicking your astounded tone up to the lilt. “Which is why I started thinking about why else you might be looking at me so intently. You weren’t sitting there objectifying me, were you, miss secretary?”
“Sir, I would never,” you repeat, and he mouths the same words again in his amusement, although silently this time. 
“I think I would have been okay with it if you were. Or would be, even until now. For the record.” 
“I wasn’t.” 
“You sure? No shame in it. Totally fine. Not sure about anyone else, but I’m totally okay if someone else thinks I’m eye candy in the privacy of their own minds. I am, I think, a fine specimen of a human, if I do say so myself.”
“I really wasn’t, sir.”
“You should have, then. Lost opportunities.”” 
“I could argue that I was just worried you’d leave and not come back.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” he hums. “Not anymore, anyway.” 
The ‘to you’ is what stumps you into another silent spell, but this time, Vice President Na doesn’t attempt to fill in the void. He just starts running his eyes over your face, like he’s trying to read something there or maybe memorize your features, or something. At some point, you start thinking about how this kind of silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, contrary to your expectations and with interesting consideration of the fact that he’s still holding your hips. Apart from the idle skimming of his thumb over the curve of your pelvic bone, he doesn’t move — nearer or closer, which is probably for the best since you don’t know which one you really want more at this point.
Again, when you gather some part of your wits, the only thing you still know how to ask is “Why?”
“Because,” he replies immediately, simply, like the answer has always been very clear and you’ve just been too ignorant to figure it out. “You said that I could, not that I had to.” 
It’s hot. Isn’t it hot? You don’t know what he’s talking about, but your body already reacts on principle, and you have to stand-half-lean there with your entire face burning and Vice President Na’s body heat washing over yours like an electric blanket.
“I don’t know what that means, sir.”
“It means I didn’t do this for my dad or just because you told me off in the comfort of my own office.” He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing (yet again) at you as he witnesses, from the best seat in the house, your face turning almost purple with the effort of keeping down your embarrassment. “Although that played a bit of a factor in it. I couldn’t tell if it was rude of you to say so much or kind of cute that you did despite knowing you were being rude. But that’s besides the point.”
Good, you think. If he manages to hit you with another cute in this timeframe, you may easily cease to exist. 
“You know firsthand, anyway, what my dad always says. You must take on the responsibility you were born with. You have to do your job. You must remember that you owe your life to my achievements.” He mimics his father’s gruff, booming voice amusingly well, to the point that you can’t stop yourself from laughing. His facade breaks easily, and you think you hear him mumble cute under his breath again, although you choose to ignore it so your knees don’t buckle completely (something that you think would be very embarrassing with you so close to him). “I don’t think he’s ever once said an encouraging word to my face. And if there’s anything I can confidently say I won’t do, it’s doing what people only say I need to do. It’s my life, you know what I mean? I’ll do what I want.” 
“You’re saying you suddenly wanted to work because I said you could?” 
“More like I wanted to see if you were right.” He muses. “I was pretty sure I didn’t have the personality for it. Or the attention span. Or the skill, either.”
“I think a couple of those things are still up in the air, sir.”
“One compliment and you’re already gunning for another insubordination report.” Vice President Na’s voice is a low, casual hum, but you notice the grip around your waist tightens for a brief moment. “At first, I figured I’d just show up to get everyone off my back, but I realized along the way that I’m pretty good at this being at the helm business. I’m sure you’ll agree. Hopefully because you want to, not because you also have to.”
“I do agree.” Your reply is wholehearted, and the Vice President’s smile widens. Your chest swells so much that you think you might explode right in front of him. “Because I want to.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me, miss secretary. I’m not attributing all my successes to your impulsive words.” He teases, although his eyes stay gentle despite his tone. “The efforts were still all mine. However, I’m not too proud to admit I had a very responsible first mate by my side, for whom I am very grateful. Although I hope this doesn’t mean she’ll pluck up the courage to ask for a raise considering how well I pay her. I think. Does she get paid well? Maybe I should ask Park Jinhee from accounting.” 
“She won’t,” you laugh softly, not missing the fact that he’s finally learned her name. “And she’s not really doing this for the salary, even if it is a nice bonus.” 
“What’s she doing it for, then?” 
As a job, this was really mostly about yourself — or it was, in the beginning. You’d terrorized Vice President Na to some degree because of the innate tendency towards self-preservation, and when that felt a little one-sided, you also considered everyone who might lose their jobs if the department got cut. It had been, for the most part, an act of pure desperation, so strong that you were willing to point fingers and raise your voice (only a few decibels, because you’re not a crazy person) at your boss. Now… that wasn’t really part of the equation. Maybe you had gotten used to the fact that the Vice President wouldn’t be going anywhere, so you’d stopped worrying about your and everyone else’s jobs, which all seem to be on a smooth path alongside the captain of the ship.
But if you had to be honest to yourself, part of the reason you’d grown a bit complacent about thinking about the fate of the department also had to do with the fact that you genuinely enjoyed being next to the Vice President. Mornings spent helping him prepare for work were regular highlights in your week, and the looks of approval you received from him every time you helped him finish a particularly difficult task were second to none. Always being close to him, always being the first and last to see him in the day, simply being able to look at him -– silly as that all sounds, they now play an undeniable factor in your desire to wake up and go to the office every single day. 
“I did it for you.” You answer, and because the answer’s honest, it feels completely natural to say. A pause slowly lengthens between you two, though not nearly as tense or borderline uncomfortable as you thought it might be this time around. A slow smile stretches over the Vice President’s face, but his words don’t easily take the straightforward route this time, either.
“Should I take up with the human resources department the fact that you’re outright breaching the terms of our contractual workplace relationship? How am I?” He speaks over, with you again, your voices overlapping. You can’t help it — you laugh at the absurdity of how well he’s come to know your responses, from the word choice to the lilt in your voice that signals some level of affront. When, exactly, did Vice President Na start committing the things you said and did into memory? “You’re seducing me, miss secretary. Before you say you’re not — you are. You are, without even knowing it. You’re winning me over, telling me all these sweet nothings to tickle my heart — I believe in you, Jaemin. I love working with you, Jaemin. I did it all for you, Jaemin, because you’re obviously the best in the whole world, ho ho ho.”
“I never said it like that.” 
“You might as well have.” 
“Should I stop believing in you so that we can avoid a scene, then, or is the damage to your good standing too far gone?”
“Rather than stopping something already in full motion, I think it might be better to make certain amendments to our current agreement.” Vice President Na reaches for the pen tucked into his breast pocket — the gold clip catches the fluorescent light and momentarily blinds you as he brings it up between you. He brings it to one side, then to another, and your eyes follow it, amused but also admittedly a bit hypnotized.
“What kind of trance are you putting me under, sir?”
“The kind that gets you to stop calling me that,” he chuckles. “Among other, more important things on my agenda.” 
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You have an excellent view of Vice President Na’s stellar smile from the back of the meeting room. 
The deal he closes three days later goes even better than expected; not only does he bring Amazon into the fold after weeks of (surprisingly consistent) hard work and no small amount of beguiling charm (owing to the fact that he’d offended said Amazon representatives earlier on in his still relatively short-lived career), but he also manages to snag Samsung Electronics’ participation. As an already existing subscriber to the company-provided phone plan, you’re pleased to find out that you’re entitled to twelve guilt-free months of Prime Video as part of a new promotional deal, which you can now enjoy on nights you aren’t working overtime — something you’ve racked up more of as you’ve found yourself striking more of a work-life balance, thanks in large part to the Vice President’s steadily active involvement in all things on the ‘work’ aspect of the scale. Your first goal is to finally get past the first episode of an animation everyone in the department is raving about (but that you haven’t seen more than five minutes of, in actuality, because the horrible subtitles and sluggish 144px stop motion-esque have, until recently, adamantly deterred you from enjoying anything about the story).
Standing a fair distance away from the executives, you wait for the flurry of handshakes and accompanying congratulatory statements to die down; it takes quite a while, considering the sheer volume of people, and the thickest throng has come to gather around Vice President Na. At one point, all you can see of him is the slightly unruly lick of hair that’s sticking out above the rest of the considerable crowd of balding men around him (the sole crow’s feather a mountain range of gray). All their voices overlap, and you’re only able to catch key phrases — brilliant young mind… knack for business! … just like the President… bright future ahead, you know? 
Fifteen minutes of conversation and bellowing guffaws pass before Vice President Na emerges, adjusting the front of his blazer as a result of too much handshaking. Behind him, still speaking to one of the  marketing executives, is President Na, who shoots his son a surreptitious look you’ve never seen him wear in your considerable number of years in the company’s employ  — one of triumph and pride. The Vice President, however, is intently loosening his tie and scanning the room, stretching himself just a fraction taller above everyone else to get a better view throughout. 
You wait, wondering if he’s looking to speak to someone, lost in that host of black and gray suits — the Amazon media director, perhaps, or the in-house designer that also seems to be trying to catch his eye, for some reason (you sense the needy greed for a sudden promotion that seems highly unlikely in such a setting), but even though his vision passes over them, however briefly, Vice President Na doesn’t seem satisfied.
That is, until his eyes land on the corner of the room you and Secretary Son have backed yourselves into to allow the higher-ups room to mingle. 
One beat later, and the corners of his mouth are pulled up — a soft, knowing smile directed in your general direction. You glance at Secretary Son, maybe out of instinct, maybe somehow out of panic — as though you worry she’ll somehow come to chastise you, but she’s too busy trying to re-buckle her thin coat belt with rapid-fire tsks. She seems acceptably preoccupied, so your eyes flit back to the Vice President, whose eyebrows are now slightly raised, the telltale signs of a growing grin now playing on his lips as the front of his teeth begin to peek out from the seam. Another cock of his eyebrows, lifting them higher, tells you he’s waiting for some kind of message — an indication that you see him too, maybe, or… perhaps, oddly, any sign that you’re as proud of him as everyone else in the room is. 
You can’t help it  — you laugh, louder than you’d have originally liked to, a hand coming up over your mouth as Secretary Son’s head snaps up from her waist, bamboozled at your quick but sudden outburst. She throws you a look that suggests she firmly believes your mind has snapped, quite like a stale breadstick in a derelict Italian restaurant, but it’s worth it; Vice President Na looks satisfied at this — though, why he would be, you haven’t a true clue. 
As the managers and members of the board file out of the room, both you and Secretary Son inch closer to your respective direct superiors; you both stand a few steps away as the last of the executives drag their feet, still hoping to share one last handshake with either of the two, until an elderly Mrs. Kwon’s surprisingly firm grip is finally shaken off by a sheepish President Na. He turns to his son, who’s still hosting the remnants of a genial smile on his lips, clearly poised to say something. For some reason, you expect the senior to berate the former, simply out of sheer habit, but he does nothing of the sort. 
“Jaemin-ah,” his voice is gruff but not at all begrudging; it’s a low rumble of triumph. “Who’d’ve thought? My boy… you brat…”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now, dad,” the Vice President teases, to which the President chortles heartily. 
“Old men like me have the right, much more than anyone else.” You’ve never seen the President wear an expression even remotely close to softness, but you see it in his gaze now; it strikes you, then, that although you’ve always known the two to be related, this is the first time you can confidently say they resemble each other to the cores of their being — a view of happiness, somewhat mirrored in each of them. “I’m proud of you, son. You did everything I hoped you would — no, no… more than that, even.” 
“I’ll take most of the praise, thanks,” Vice President Na replies with his characteristic cheek. For a moment, so quickly you think you may have missed it, his eyes flicker to you. “But I can’t say I could’ve done it alone.” 
“Punk,” President Na snorts, yanking on his son’s earlobe; you and Secretary Son have to avert your eyes with expert speed to avoid being caught snickering at the slightly juvenile “ow, dammit,” that the Vice President groans out. “One big closed deal, and your head’s this big? I better not catch you floating away to a Las Vegas casino after all this.” 
“Give me some credit; I’d at least visit the desert first.” This time, when the Vice President glances at you, his father’s head turns too, and you stand up straighter at the unprecedented onslaught of attention. “Besides, I’ve got someone here to keep me anchored now.”
“Good work, Secretary ____________,” President Na offers you a rare smile that truly has you feeling like the world has turned upside down: the President in an agreeable (almost ecstatic, though you’d never say that out loud) mood, the Vice President doing his job not just in general but actually commendably well, and not a single strand of baby hair sticking up from out of your ponytail. Inconceivable. 
You bow, murmuring a thank you, and Secretary Son quickly follows suit for the formality of it all before she strides over to the President, who’s leaving his son with one last thunder-like clap on the back before he’s leaving the meeting room, still jovial when he catches up with the suspiciously lagging figure of Mrs. Kwon by the door. 
Vice President Na starts to follow suit, walking towards the other end of the meeting room; you quickly scurry behind him, still clutching your tablet, blinking a low battery warning, to your chest. You’ve come to grow accustomed to the ‘secretary’s pace’ over the last few weeks as well — always close enough to help, never too close enough to step on a superior’s toes.
But in the moment you fumble to silence your device, you end up stepping into someone’s shadow; glancing up at the Vice President, you find yourself looking at not the familiar view of his back but that of his side profile (one you’re actually also familiar with, though you refuse to admit to the level of familiarity). He’s slowed his pace considerably, allowing you to naturally fall into step with him, and even this, he expects a response from you somehow — he asks for it with yet another wiggle of his eyebrows. You laugh again, shaking your head, and yet, inexplicably, it seems to be exactly the reaction he hopes to see.
The department floor erupts into applause when the two of you pass through the glass doors; a flash of mollification crosses the Vice President’s features before he’s back to his signature light humor, raising a palm up in receipt of praise. Park Jinhee is clapping with only her left hand smacking the side of her mug, a few drops of coffee streaming down the handle side on impact. One of the team managers rushes forward, eager to shake Vice President Na’s hand, and, riding his high, also yours, pumping it up and down with so much vigor that you mumble a quiet ow behind a strained smile. Only the Vice President’s hand on your shoulder, steering you away, saves you from what feels like possible dislocation. 
He’s still waving at them like this is a pageant and not his day job, even as he guides you towards his office door; you have to use your elbows to push it open and effectively help you both avoid ramming into frosted glass. The applause dies down as your somewhat conjoined figures disappear through the doorway — you first, albeit convolutedly, your heel still holding strong in the job of keeping the door wide open enough for Vice President Na to saunter through before you let it swing shut to a now relatively silent office floor. 
His hold on your shoulder doesn’t let up, though; it’s still urging you forward, towards his desk, and you open your mouth to say something along the lines of I’m gonna break my hip if we keep going this way, but just as your throat conjures up the first syllable, he turns you around, letting you rest light against the edge of the table. 
In a pattern reminiscent of three days prior, Vice President Na’s hand finds its way to your waist, utterly comfortable in a way that mystifies you; he acts like it belongs there, as natural as the smile that’s still playing on his lips. 
“Sir, you realize it’s the middle of the day?” 
“You realize that we had a deal,” he corrects you, brow furrowing in feigned sternness. “Hold up your end of it, miss secretary.” 
“Only if you stop calling me that.” 
“Now, that absolutely was not part of the contract.” 
When you laugh this time, he chimes in; there’s a harmony in your voices that has your posture softening. You feel airier, your heart much lighter, and when you look up at him, you can’t help but flush at his expectant gaze. 
“You realize it’s the middle of the day,” you repeat, carefully, the words suddenly somewhat unfamiliar on your tongue — the next two syllables, most of all. “Jae… min.” 
Odd as it is, you’re rewarded with the pleased look that takes over his features; he takes a moment to exaggeratedly revel in this new occurrence. 
“Better. Much better. You could still be a bit more comfortable with it, I’d say, but… baby steps?” 
“Please re-prioritize your day, si— Jaemin.” The terse tone you’re going for is brutally marred by your blunder, which has his shoulders shaking from laughter. “Someone could very easily walk in.” 
“Who’s going to fire me?”
“I can think of one person.”
“You heard him. I’m proud of you, Jaemin. You’ve completely exceeded my expectations, Jaemin. You are the light of my life — my favorite son, Jaemin, ho, ho, ho.”
“Sir,” you sigh. “You’re his only son.”
“We had a deal,” he repeats, letting the return to habits slide, and there’s a laughably childish air to his words. “I’ll… file an insubordination report. Breach of contract as well. Tsk, tsk, miss secretary. Not on such a momentous occasion.” 
“Some might classify this as threatening behavior.” Your eyes are soft, though, when they meet his humored gaze. “If you want a reward… ask a little more nicely.”
A soft snort — his fingers dig lightly into your waist, and the next second, he’s lifting you off your feet and settling you lightly atop his desk. his palms never leave you, even after you’ve been placed; they’re increasingly warm beyond the fabric of your top. 
“____________,” he murmurs, saying your name so naturally that you could almost believe he’s referred to you as nothing else for as long as you’ve known him. “Kiss me.” 
Your own hands find their way behind his neck, but he does most of the work in closing the gap anyway; you’re not even sure who, between the two of you, gave that first sigh of longing, of relief. Perhaps it was both of you, all at once. 
Jaemin still tastes like the coffee you’d given him this morning — not a trace of richness, but a bittersweet and earthy twang that’s signature post-Americano. There’s even a hint of mintiness from the nervous handful of Tic Tacs he’d had just before the meeting started; you find that out the moment his tongue swipes against yours, leaving behind the invisible bite of menthol. And then there’s you, a clean taste that settles against his teeth, subtle first but growing stronger until you’re satisfied with the notion that you may linger there for some time — even after you pull away, slightly breathless.
“Congratulations to me,” he breathes out, trademark grin flashing bright again. “So what happens if I close next month’s Disney Plus deal?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer; his hand’s already skimming down, over your hips, following the path of your thigh. Your hand reaches out on instinct to stop him, but he’s oddly more aware of his surroundings than you give him credit for (or maybe, you’re just that predictable to him). He meets your palm, fingers lacing into yours and allowing him to lift your wrist to his lips. There, you feel the warmth of his kiss again, and he uses his hold to bring himself even closer, until he’s able to press his face into your neck. 
“Sir—”
“Jaemin. You call me Jaemin from now on, remember?”
“Sir.” You’re adamant. “It’s work hours.”
“You’re not tense.” 
He doesn’t move his head; in fact, you feel him burying his face further into your shoulder. In this position, there’s no real way for you to pull away — there’s also no real desire for you to do so, anyway. 
“No, I’m not.”
“Good.” Warmth again on your skin — his lips leave an invisible mark just above your collarbone. “I like you best like this.”
“What? Not tense?”
“Happy,” he corrects for accuracy. “Happy that you’re with me.” 
You fall silent, not because you’re not sure of what to say, but because you don’t need to tell him that he’s right. 
Moments later, his fingers find their way into your ponytail; the index hooks into the elastic, bringing your hair down. You feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, he’s inhaling your perfume again. 
“Green tea. Something floral. Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of citrus.” He lifts his head but stays close, warm breath washing over you. “It’s so you. Fresh. Pure. Beautiful.” 
The gap between the two of you doesn’t last for too long thereafter; he kisses you again, and your heart lifts to find that your taste still lingers somewhere there. It’s longer because it’s slower — less playful and more exploratory, until he pulls away to a much more breathless you. How he finds the air to talk even after is miraculous to you. 
“Be mine, miss secretary.” 
You blink — once, twice, at his serious expression, wondering if it will break and give way to more humor. But he waits, unwavering, until the last piece of resistance you’ve clung onto is washed away — the last thing that made you, for a second, deny that you were in love with him. 
His smile slowly mirrors yours as it grows. 
“Like you could ever get rid of me, Na Jaemin.” 
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joyoushyuck · 15 days
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requested
00:56
Your hand is raised in front of the door, about to knock, when the door clicks open on its own. Donghyuck doesn't seem surprised by your presence; his expression is morphed into one of indifference. He is wearing his glasses and that white Celine shirt he loves to wear on special occasions. His long hair curls at his nape, a few curly strands beautifully swaying at the front. You would call him gorgeous if it wasn't for the pressing situation at hand. He walks past you into the kitchen and extracts a water bottle from the fridge. You flinch when he slams the door shut.
“Donghyuck,” you try. He chugs the water down, ignoring you. “Donghyuck list-”
A thud, water on your feet and a gasp leaving your mouth, and Donghyuck storms past you back into the bedroom. The blue baby shark bottle lays a few inches away from your legs with a broken hinge and a crack near the top.
You bite your lips in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. You brought this on yourself, you have no right to cry. If forgetting your anniversary was not enough of a fault, you went on to blame it on your workload and blame him for being upset. Not your smartest move.
Dejected, you walk back to the couch and lay down. You haven't slept properly in ages, you really were preoccupied with an important project at work, but even that isn't a good reason to stop doing the bare minimum. Donghyuck's anger is justified.
You don't have a blanket; no amount of hugging yourself provides you the warmth that Donghyuck’s body exudes. The pit of your stomach feels hollow with dread; the guilt weighs you down and threatens to swallow your being. After an hour of twisting and turning, you give up on the idea of sleep. There's no way you can sleep peacefully without resolving this conflict. Your throat constricts and heart sinks at the prospect of Donghyuck ending this relationship for his own good.
So you walk up to the door resolutely. If Donghyuck continues to give you the silent treatment, you know your resolve will take a hit pretty soon. However, doing something to show that you care is better than doing nothing.
“Hyuck,” you start, only to hear your voice crack. It pains you as much as it pains him to have landed in such a predicament. “I'm sorry, Donghyuck, it's my fault. Please, just open the door.”
You are met with silence. Did he fall asleep already? It seemed unlikely but you couldn't rule out the possibility.
“Hyuck, are you awake? Baby? Just please answer me.”
Still no response. But then, something drops, and you hear the old bed squeak, his feet shuffle and the spring in your mattress dip. So he's awake.
“Donghyuck, love, please talk to me.” You cringe at the desperation in your own voice. “I am sorry, I know I fucked up Hyuck. Shout at me, hit me, just-”
You clutch your hair, your back sliding against the door and butt hitting the cold floor. A shiver runs down your spine. Was it winter already?
“Just don't be quiet, please.”
You bury your face in your hands in a last ditch attempt to keep the sobs under control. It didn't seem to be working in your favour. The stress at work seems to be finally catching upto you as well. Donghyuck needs space. He doesn't need you annoying him now when all this could have been prevented had you been more mindful of your actions. You accept your fate and curl into a bundle, deciding to give it a rest for now.
That's how Donghyuck finds you a few hour laters.
You are hugging your knees close to your chest, head resting uncomfortably on the hard floor. When he takes a closer look, he can see the dried streak of tears on your cheek. You are trembling, and he realises you haven't even switched the heater on. Something in him breaks at the sight of you like this.
“Hey, baby,” he gently taps your cheek to wake you up. “Baby, you can't sleep here, come in.”
You make a little noise. He is met with the uncontrollable urge to coo at you, but stops himself given the situation.
“Wake up doll,” he tries again. “You are going to have a terrible back pain at this rate.”
You blink your eyes open sluggishly after a few moments. Donghyuck isn't wearing his glasses anymore and his hair is mussed up. “Hyuck?” You ask, your sleep muddled brain still not catching up. “Is everything alright?”
Donghyuck sighs, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He loved you too much to stay mad at you for long, no matter what you did.
“Come sleep on the bed baby. We'll talk about the rest in the morning. Come in now.”
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marksmelodies · 4 months
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dreamies reactions to you getting off birth control
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i decided to start doing fake text too!! this was so fun, definitely give me some requests!!
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luvyeni · 15 days
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p. bf!park jisung x fem bodied reader | warnings: mutual masterbation, semi public, p in v | words: 0.6k ~ (623) 🐹ㆍ₊⊹
request: Please make anything with ji or chenle dying over here 😫
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
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He was wearing those sinful grey again , the ones that he knew made you all dizzy in the head — and he was proven right when he sat down on the couch and saw your eyes zone right on the sweatpants , gulping as you tried to turn away. “you okay?” he asked , knowing you were fucking losing it on the inside. “good because the guys want to watch a movie with us.”
You wanted to curse , out of all times did it have to be now? Did they have to watch it now? You were slowly loosing it and jisung could see it — your constant shifting , your pretty thighs clenching; he smirked, he loved when you got like this. “you cold?”
“hm?” you could even answer before he was pulling the blanket over your body. “better?” you nodded , he leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips. “ew gross.” haechan moved off the couch , joining the rest of them on the floor , leaving you alone on the couch.
He pulled away, you thought he was gonna straighten back up to finish the movie— but he moved closer to your ear, his breath fanning against your ear, making you shiver. “keep quiet baby.”
You were confused , until you felt his hands creep down in between your thighs. Your eyes widened looking at him , he smiled pushing them open , his hand finding its way into your shorts, cupping your heat. You bit your lip trying to contain your voice as he pulled your panties to the side, pushing a finger in.
Your hand flew to his thigh— making sure the guys weren’t looking; before undoing the string of those god forsaken sweats, slipping your hand into his boxers, where is cock twitched, waiting for you to touch it. “go ahead.” He whispered. “stroke it baby.”
You began to move, trying to match his pace on your cunt. It was risky and at any moment you could be caught, but in the moment both of you didn’t care, desperate to get each other off— both of you wishing both of you were alone so you could be as , loud as you want, especially since you were about to cum. “fu-fuck stop.”
Jisung had to force himself to say, the movie was finally over, neither one of you able to cum. “we should get to bed, we have practice tomorrow.” Everyone agreed, dragging their tired bodies to their respected room, leaving you both. “both of you get some sleep.”
You waited until the last door to barley close before jisung was lifting you into his lap, pulling his sweats down enough. “fuck I need to be inside you.” He pulled your shorts to the side, holding you by the waist as slowly sinking into you, both of you sighing, finally getting the fill you both craved. “sh-shit.”
Both of you were desperate to get off, his head thrown back against the couch as you bounced on his cock, your skin slapping against each other. “fuck, keep bouncing on my dick -shit- im gonna cum.” He groaned, hold your ass in his hands. “of fuck please cum baby.” He let out a whimper like moan, as you clenched around him— he kissed you to conceal his moans as he shot ropes of cum into your cunt.
“shit.” He said, both of you heavily breathing. “fu-fuck, did you have to wear those sweatpants? Get me worked up like that.” He smiled tiredly. “it was hot watching you lose it over a pair of sweats.”
“you think they heard?”
“why do you think they went into their rooms?”
“to sleep?”
“it’s 10:30 and we don’t have practice.”
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©️LUVYENI
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