Coworkers To Lovers - Tumblr Posts

Socially awkward lover in the makings~ I read the entire series in one go, the writer is that good 👌🏻

Peppermint Masterpost

; Co-worker!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

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Main Series:

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

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Drabbles:

Honey Tea

Double Espresso

Hazelnut Frappe

Caramel Latte

Strawberry Lemonade

Mulled Wine

accidentally sucked into a world you never knew existed, and all you have to seek solace from is the airy-fairy coworker 😂

A long journey home | 02 FINAL

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 12.2K

Synopsis:  All you wanted was to confront your flaky coworker, Taehyung, not get dragged across a magical fantasy realm trying to deliver a baby dragon safely back to its home kingdom.

Fantasy!au

Notes: Actually I don’t have much to say. But hey, we all love a finished fic, don’t we?

1 | 2

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love me a good hogwarts au 🪄

Hogwarts requests Masterlist

Characters: BTS x reader

Synopsis: You guys asked and you shall receive! A series of drabbles based off requests sent in a LONG time ago for various members in a Hogwarts au!

Notes: Part one of my farewell! 5 requests about Harry Potter, posted on this very Masterlist! Updates weekly

Links:

1. True love’s kiss - Ravenclaw!Jungkook x reader featuring Gryffindor!Taehyung and Hufflepuff!Jimin

2. A helping hand - Headboy!Namjoon x reader. 

3. Shadows Lurking - Gryffindor!Jin x Slytherin!reader

4. The Sun burns too - Slytherin!Jhope x Hufflepuff!Reader

5. A lost correspondence - Professor!Yoongi x Professor!Reader

absolutely ADORABLE 🥹💗

tattle-tale | l.sy

pairings: lee sangyeon x reader genre: teacher au, tooth-rotting fluff summary: in which teacher!sangyeon has a crush on teacher!you and anonymously leaves little gifts for you on your desk, only to one day be caught by your entire class word count: 5.9k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

You loved your job, you really did.

Teaching little kids all day long was an absolute joy for you. But if you said recess wasn’t your favourite time of the day, you’d definitely be lying. “Finally,” you groaned as you took a seat on a sofa in the teacher’s lounge, a large cup of coffee in your hand as you closed your eyes.

Sangyeon, Jacob and Hyunjae – three teachers at your school that you considered close friends – shared knowing smiles. “Rough morning?” Jacob asked.

“I love my students,” you said, eyes still closed. “But they can be little devils sometimes.”

Hyunjae burst into laughter as Jacob and Sangyeon grinned. “They can’t be that bad?”

You opened your eyes to observe your colleagues. “It’s Emma’s birthday today. She brought cake for the entire class, and they ate the entire thing within the first ten minutes of first period,” you recalled in a monotone voice.

Jacob winced. “Sugar rush?” he guessed.

“You have no idea,” you complained, having flashbacks to your students running around the classroom and causing absolute chaos. “I would literally kill for some coffee. Or at least maim.”

Hyunjae pointed at your mug. “What do you call that?” he teased.

“Terrible teacher lounge coffee that hasn’t been warm for, like, an hour,” you observed as you took a sip of your coffee. Then, you winced and pushed the mug away from you. “I may be desperate for a good caffeine fix, but I’m not that desperate,” you mumbled as you got up to toss the contents of your mug down the sink.

Sangyeon’s eyes trailed after your retreating figure, a mindless smile on his face as he observed the way you glared at your, now empty, mug in disgust as if it had betrayed you. His gaze drew towards Jacob when his colleague cleared his throat, a knowing look in his and Hyunjae’s eyes as Sangyeon gave them an innocent smile. “Are you ever going to ask her out?” Jacob asked with a lowered voice.

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just a small nudge 😉

not so silent night

day seven of junkissed’s svt season’s greetings event

member | music teacher!jihoon x english teacher!reader genre | fluff, some humor word count | ~1,400 synopsis | your students have been trying to set you up with the other teachers all year. but what happens when the hot music teacher actually says yes? warnings | children being mischievous, maaybe suggestive at the end, if you choose to take it that way notes | lowercase intended. fun fact i wrote this on the greyhound bus coming home over thanksgiving break lol

edit [01/11] : i have added a second part to this fic called "not so holy night"! it is nsfw so minors dni. you can read it here!

one reblog = one scheming child

“why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

you look up from the essay you’re grading. “‘excuse me?”

the little girl sitting at the desk closest to yours is staring at you. “how come you don’t have a boyfriend?” she repeats.

you hold in a laugh. “it’s silent reading time, heather. go back to your book.”

“you could date one of the other teachers,” she continues. “you know, my music teacher mr. lee is single. do you think he’s hot?”

“i think you need to finish your book, or else you’ll be staying in at recess to clean the whiteboards.”

she shrugs and rolls her eyes, but opens her book again. “somethin’ to think about.”

the bell rings signaling recess, and the room erupts in a flurry of little voices and papers rustling as the students put their books away and head outside. you follow them out, standing by the entrance to your classroom as they file out the door.

a man stands across the hall, similarly watching his students leave. you know he’s the music teacher; the drums that you hear every morning during third period are evidence of that. but other than that, you don’t know much about him. except now, thanks to nosy junior high girls, you know he’s not married, at least.

“good morning, mr. lee,” you say when you catch his eye.

he smiles. “please, call me jihoon.”

“how are your students?”

“good, good,” he says, crossing his arms. “and yours?”

“jumpy as always,” you laugh politely.

“wouldn’t expect any less, this close to winter break,” he replies. despite the small talk being no different than it is any other morning, you find yourself looking more closely at him for the first time.

“speaking of,” you start, “ are you going to the staff party this weekend?”

he leans against the door of his classroom. “wasn’t planning on it.”

“oh.” you stand awkwardly for a minute before nodding politely and turning to go back in your room, thinking the conversation is over.

“do you… would you wanna go with me?” you hear from behind you.

you spin around. “what?”

he shrugs, clearly trying to act nonchalant. “if i show up by myself and my students get wind of it, i’ll never hear the end of it.”

you pause. “why?”

he sighs. “they keep trying to set me up with other teachers. there’s only so many math teachers in the school, and they’re all married. if i don’t do something, they might move on to the language teachers.”

“i know the feeling,” you say, laughing, but you wonder if he was trying to say anything with that comment: you’re a language teacher. but you're probably just reading too much into it. “what is with kids and trying to put people together?”

“ah, you too?” he smiles. “it’s probably the same students doing it to both of us.”

“the group of girls that always wear the matching hair bows?”

“mhm, the very ones.”

you grin. “maybe we should go out, give them something to gossip about.”

his cheeks flush pink, and he coughs, reaching up to adjust his tie. “i– um…”

you panic at his reaction. “sorry! just a– joke…” you trail off.

“do you… like coffee?” he asks suddenly. you raise your eyebrows, and he laughs, gesturing to the mug in your hand. “that’s a stupid question, sorry.”

“i do like coffee, yes,” you giggle. neither of you are exactly the smoothest people in the world, but talking with him somehow feels natural.

“second period is my prep,” he says, fidgeting with his hands.

“i know,” you laugh, and he gives you a confused look. “i mean, it’s the only time i don’t hear your class.”

“oh,” he chuckles. “sorry about that. i always tell them not to mess around, but, what can you do?”

“don’t worry about it,” you smile. “so, coffee?”

“is tomorrow good?”

“the sooner the better,” you joke.

“i’ll see you then,” he smiles.

you clear your throat. “well, i’ve got grading to do, i should probably… go…”

“oh! yeah, of course,” he says, uncrossing his arms and wiping his palms on his pants. “i should go too, before the kids get back.”

“it’s nice talking to you,” you add at the last second.

his face lights up, and you’re glad he took it as a compliment instead of meaningless small talk. “yeah, you too!”

you grin awkwardly and slip back into your room, shutting the door behind you.

damn, it hasn’t been that long since you’ve been on a date. you didn’t think your flirting was that rusty. but if you wanted to prove these kids wrong, you’d have to step up your game.

although it’s none of their business, you’re so excited about the date, you almost want to tell heather and the other girls that yes, a so-called “old woman” like yourself is still capable of getting a date.

you grin to yourself and shake your head, going back to the stack of papers on your desk, hoping to get the last of your grading done before recess is over and your next class comes in.

the next morning you wake up before your alarm, a feat that hasn’t happened in years. you stand in front of your closet for what’s probably close to an hour, trying to find the perfect outfit.

why are you so worried about this? it’s just coffee, you reason with yourself. no need to get all crazy over it.

still, it takes you at least another ten minutes before you finally pick out something to wear. giving yourself one last once-over in the bathroom mirror, you grab your keys and head out to your car half an hour earlier than you normally do. maybe sitting in your classroom before school will give you some time to figure out what the hell you’re about to do.

it’s not against the rules, per se, for one teacher to date another. but you can’t help but be nervous if something goes wrong. you can’t exactly avoid him when his classroom is directly across from yours.

to your amazement, the date goes great. yes, so maybe the “date” is just the two of you sitting in the starbucks down the street from the school, but at this hour of the day, it’s quiet. everyone’s either busy at work or dropping their kids off at school.

you learn a lot about mr. lee— jihoon, as he insists, that morning. like how he always wanted to be a music producer, and how he was in a band in college that was actually pretty successful.

too soon, you check your watch and realize it’s almost time for third period. you stand up, smoothing your coat down with your hands.

“are you still going to the staff party this weekend?” he says, just as you’re about to open the door.

you smile. “i was, yeah.”

he twists his coffee cup in his hands nervously. “do you maybe wanna… get drinks, or something before? we could carpool. i know this place downtown that has great cocktails. if you’d be, um, into that,” he finishes shyly.

you beam. “that sounds like a lot of fun. i’ll text you my address?”

he fumbles to grab his phone and hand it to you, nearly spilling his drink in the process.

“you should… call me, sometime,” you say as you text yourself from his phone to save the number.

“i will,” he says with a sheepish grin, and you know he means it.

“so you have a boyfriend now?”

you glance up. “and what makes you think that?” you say. okay, so maybe you do technically have… something, now.

“i saw pictures of you and mr. lee on the school’s facebook from the christmas party,” heather says nonchalantly.

before you can even think of a response, something like, “why are you searching for pictures of me,” or, “since when does the school have a facebook profile?”, she shrugs and goes back to her grammar assignment.

you hold in a laugh, watching her. she doesn’t say anything more, so you look back at the homework in front of you, waiting to finish being graded.

“if you two get married, can i be the flower girl?” you hear a minute later, interrupting the silence. “since it was me that got you together.”

“we’ll see,” you glare playfully, raising your eyebrows. with the success of the last few dates you’ve been on, you can’t say it isn’t entirely out of the question. but that’s not something you’re about to tell heather and her little gossip group. especially after what happened when you got back to jihoon’s house after the staff party; those details, you’ll have to keep to yourself.

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

oooo the spicy night after the Christmas party 🤫😉

not so holy night

member | teacher!jihoon x teacher!reader genre | smut with plot, a teeny bit of drama (barely any), lots of fluff at the end word count | ~6,900 warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), grinding, fingering, cumshot, some begging, please lmk if i missed any warnings! notes | this is the sequel to "not so silent night", which is posted on my sfw blog @junkissed! i would recommend reading part 1 first, since there's quite a bit of plot in this one! dedicated to @onlymingyus because she was going to murder me for that cliffhanger in part 1 hehe. so voila here is part 2! enjoy :) fyi i only read this like once bc i really wanted to post it tonight so if there's mistakes look away

this work contains nsfw content. minors dni or you will be blocked.

drinks and dinner. dinner and drinks. that’s all that’s going to happen tonight. why are you so nervous?

when saturday finally rolls around, you stand in front of your bathroom mirror an hour before jihoon is supposed to pick you up, scrutinizing your outfit choice. the holiday staff party is always hosted at a fancy restaurant downtown, the whole place rented out for all the teachers and administrators for dinner, with music and mingling afterwards.

in the four years you’ve been a teacher at the middle school, this is the first year you’re actually going to bring a date.

is it a date? is it friends? is it coworkers? you think it’s a date; after all, you did get coffee before school with jihoon twice this week. it could be a friend thing, but the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re distracted makes you think otherwise.

it’s going to be a long night, you already know. nothing like the little half-hour meetups for coffee or eating lunch together in the back corner of the teacher’s lounge. a solid two, three hours for the dinner alone, not to mention the drinks you’re getting with him beforehand and however long you’ll end up staying afterwards.

you’re mentally counting the time and figuring out when you might get home so you can put on your ratty pajamas and nurse your inevitable wine headache as you reflect on the evening. god, when did dating get so exhausting?

you twist in the mirror, checking out the way your ass looks in the dress. not bad. is it too forward of you to have put on your nice lingerie underneath, “just in case”? probably, but it’s not like you get an opportunity like this every day. if you’ve understood correctly, jihoon’s stuck in the same boat you are: painfully single, and not getting any younger.

and your mind starts to wander when out of nowhere your mind brings up a mental image of his long, slender fingers, and you can’t help but think about jihoon’s hands sliding up your legs and parting your folds, adding one finger, then another, then a third until you’re crying his name in relief, and–

jesus, it’s been way too long since you’ve gotten laid.

but even with just the passing thought of him, the nervous butterflies in your stomach travel lower, and you’re trying to will yourself to stop thinking about him before you ruin your only cute pair of panties.

you flick the bathroom lightswitch off and head to the living room to put something on tv, anything to clear your mind.

eventually your thoughts subside, and before you know it your doorbell is ringing and you’re scrambling to turn off the tv and make sure everything on your coffee table looks like it was put there intentionally and that you haven’t been anxiously adjusting it for the past hour.

you take a deep breath and turn the doorknob, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the man standing outside your door.

it almost feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you look at him. the sleek grey suitjacket that’s tailored perfectly around the broad shoulders you never noticed before (how the fuck did you not notice that before?). the too-tight white button down that frames the muscles in his chest. the way the cuffs of his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms that are so toned, they look like they could deadlift a piano.

you don’t know who this man is, but he’s definitely not the shy mr. lee you’re used to seeing across the hall every day.

for some reason he seems to be equally taken aback by your outfit, which you honestly can’t understand why he would be, when he himself looks like that. but with the way he’s eyeing you up and down like he has to physically hold himself back from pouncing on you, suddenly this night just got a whole lot more exciting.

“hi,” you manage, still unable to take your eyes off of him. “you, uh… you look really good.”

it’s like he doesn’t even hear your compliment, he’s so focused on you. “i’ve, um– you–” he exhales sharply. “wow.”

you blink a few times, trying to clear your head of the barrage of dirty thoughts swirling around and get yourself back on track. “so. drinks?”

his eyes dart up to your face, seeming like he’s snapped out of it. “yes! yes. my friend owns a bar near the restaurant, so i thought it might be fun to start there.” he clears his throat, muttering under his breath. “although now, i think i have better things to do.”

you smile and nod, pretending you didn’t hear him, but oh my god you heard him and oh my god you’re not gonna last long tonight. you’d hate to bail on your date, but if things keep going how they have in the five minutes you’ve seen him, you don’t know how long you’ll be able to handle sitting next to him and not having his dick inside you in some way, shape, or form. 

you grab your purse and keys and lock your front door, following jihoon to his car. he pulls on the passenger side door handle, holding it open for you and even offering his hand to help you in.

you don’t know where this man came from out of nowhere, but you really kinda like it.

the drive across town is… tense, but somehow in a good way. it feels comfortable riding in his car; though you’ve only done it once before, it feels like you’ve been in his passenger seat your whole life.

“drinks are on me,” he says as you pull up in front of the bar, a swanky little place squished in between a used bookstore and an italian grill in a long line of shops. 

you smile politely, still fighting the heat creeping up in your cheeks. “jihoon, please, you don’t have to. i know how much you make in a year.”

he pulls his keys from the ignition, and the car falls silent. “and? tonight i’m spending it on you. it’s a special occasion.”

you don’t reply, partially because you’re already planning on paying for your own drinks when he isn’t looking, and partially because wtf does he mean it’s a special occasion?

you’re still immersed in trying to figure out what he means that you don’t notice when he check his side mirror for traffic and flings his door open when there’s a lull in cars whizzing by. he jogs in front of the car around to your side by the curb, opening your door and helping you out.

“thank you,” you mumble, trying to avoid staring at his chest that’s coincidentally right in front of your face.

at 5pm on a saturday evening the sidewalk is packed with people, and jihoon slides his arm around you, placing a hand gently on your lower back to guide you to the bar’s entrance. you have to force yourself not to shiver; despite the fabric of your thin sweater on top of your dress, it feels like his hand might as well be pressed against your bare skin.

you manage to find two seats at the bar, and a bartender in a black embroidered apron walks up when jihoon raises a hand to wave him over.

“if it isn’t lee jihoon,” the man grins, putting both hands on the counter. “nice to see you, buddy.”

“nice to see you, too, gyu.” jihoon turns to introduce you. “this is my friend, mingyu. he runs the place.”

you smile, offering him a polite greeting.

“so this is the lucky girl, hm?” mingyu asks, winking at you.

jihoon coughs, and you almost think you see him glare at the man, but his scowl quickly fades when he turns back to you. “ignore him. what do you want to drink?”

you give mingyu your order, and he smiles, pulling two glasses from the rack behind him. “the usual, uji?” he asks, and jihoon nods.

finally settling in, you shrug off your sweater, folding it carefully over the back of the chair before you notice jihoon staring at you.

“i’m gonna… go to the bathroom,” he says hurriedly. “i’ll be right back.” he gets up and dashes towards the back of the room, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

you turn to watch him disappear into the crowd, offering him a smile as he leaves. as soon as he’s out of sight, you grab your wallet from your purse, seeing your chance. jihoon is sweet, but you don’t need him to pay for your drinks, too. just being here with him is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

you catch mingyu’s attention and wave him over, pulling out a few bills. you start to hand them to him, but he shakes his head. “sorry, no can do. i’ve been told not to let you pay for your drinks, it’s jihoon’s treat.”

you sigh and stuff the money back into your purse. fine.

“between you and me…” he starts, and you look back up at him curiously. “uji’s been really happy lately, and if i had to guess, you’re probably the reason why. so if things go bad on your date tonight, just… don’t break his heart, ‘kay?”

your eyes widen. “no, i wouldn’t– i wasn’t planning on–” you stammer, but he’s already walking away to refill somebody’s cocktail, and you’re left wondering what the hell he was talking about. 

it was only supposed to be a couple of friendly outings. you can’t feel this way about your coworker, someone you see right across the hall for eight hours a day every monday through friday… right? but if mingyu’s right (and you have no reason to believe he isn’t), then jihoon feels the same way about you. shit, this is deeper than you thought.

before you started… whatever this is with jihoon, you didn’t really talk to him much, even though your classrooms were right next door. you just never happened to see him in passing.

sure, you heard the off-key guitar solos from his students at nine in the morning on mondays and wednesdays, and every once in a while you saw him sitting alone in the teacher’s lounge, earbuds plugged in, nodding his head to whatever song he was listening to and tapping his fingers on the table. but it’s a big school, anyways; it’s easy to not know every teacher that works there, especially ones in a different department.

eventually jihoon comes back, and you spend the next couple hours sipping your drinks, chatting and laughing like you usually do. before you know it he’s looking down at his watch and cursing. “we should go, if we don’t wanna be late,” he says, downing the rest of his drink.

of course, it’s just your luck that now you have absolutely zero appetite for food, and an insatiable appetite for jihoon. his hair is messed, glistening a little as if he ran his fingers through it with water, and his cheeks are practically glowing.

jihoon reaches out for you, and you take his hand, letting him lead you out of the bar. mingyu waves goodbye, a grin on his face as he watches the two of you walk away. 

the ride to the restaurant is more tense than you’d like it to be, but it’s probably imagined tension from you more than it is actual tension.

while you’re desperately trying to pretend you don’t want him to pull the car over and fuck you in the backseat, you don’t notice how he’s pretending he doesn’t want to turn the car around and drive home and fuck you there instead of going to this whole stupid dinner in the first place. you stare out your window, keeping your hands planted firmly in your lap, and he stares out the windshield, keeping his hands firmly wrapped around the steering wheel.

too quickly, you arrive at the restaurant and he parks in the lot out back. again, he gets out and jogs around to the passenger side to open your door for you again, offering his hand to help you out. your cheeks warm, and you hope he can’t tell how nervous you are.

walking through the lot towards the building, you recognize a few of your coworkers’ cars. past you that used to attend the teacher parties alone would’ve been a little disappointed that you’re so late to the event, but you that’s here now couldn’t care less about how late you show up, when you could be spending time alone with jihoon instead.

although, the amount of people around you tonight is probably for the best, because if they weren’t there you don’t think you’d be able to stop yourself from jumping him and fucking him in the middle of the restaurant.

he opens the door and smiles at the greeter, who leads you back to the private room where the rest of the party is. you feel jihoon’s grip on your waist tighten imperceptibly when the man glances at you for just a beat too long before showing you the table, and you force yourself to ignore the way your stomach does backflips at his touch.

the room is huge, with two long buffet tables for all the employees who are laughing and chatting. you find two empty seats near the end of the table and quickly a waiter comes over to offer you drinks. having already had enough to drink at mingyu’s bar, you settle for water, wanting to stay sober for whatever happens later. jihoon orders a coke.

some of the administrators order appetizers for the table, and as you wait for them to get passed down to you one of your coworkers walks over.

you look up at her and smile. “hey, jan–”

“hi, jihoon,” she purrs, completely ignoring you as she wraps her arm around your date’s shoulders, the martini in her hand sloshing with the movement. 

your smile drops, and you look away, focusing on the ice cubes in your glass as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. at least, it’s more interesting than watching your married coworker shamelessly flirt with the man you’re supposed to be on a date with. you should’ve known a man as attractive as jihoon would have women throwing themselves at him all night. maybe this was a bad idea after all.

he stiffens, brows knitting into a scowl when he sees you avoiding him. “mrs. walker,” he greets her in response, tone flat. “is your husband not able to make it tonight? i had such a nice conversation with him last year about his business trip.”

she giggles. “oh no, he’s working tonight. but…” she trails off, smoothing a hand down his arm. “we could always go have a conversation about another kind of business instead.”

you nearly snort water out your nose at her forwardness, and for a second you contemplate ordering an uber and just going home right now. god, were all the teachers usually this bad, or had you just not noticed it until you were seated next to somebody like jihoon?

he clears his throat, a little too loudly. “sorry, but my date and i have plans,” he says.

at the mention of your name you glance over your shoulder, giving her a short nod before you return to staring at the water droplets rolling down the side of your glass. 

her grin falters, but she recovers quickly. “oh! i didn’t know you two came together,” she says, giving you a look as she sips her martini.

jihoon doesn’t respond, his arms crossed and staring at his empty plate. your coworker stands behind his chair in silence until the awkwardness is too much, and she lets out another forced laugh. “well, i’ll leave you be, then. but you have my number if you change your mind and wanna do something more fun tonight,” she mutters, downing the rest of her drink and stumbling off in search of the nearest waiter for another round.

the restaurant is filled with loud conversations, but an uncomfortable silence settles between you. 

so what if you are a little jealous? you surely have no right to be; you’ve only gone out with this man a handful of times, not nearly enough to call him yours. but for tonight, for right now, he’s your date, and you feel entitled to at least a little bit of sulking.

jihoon coughs a little, finally breaking the silence. “i’m sorry about her.”

you stir your straw around your water glass, still avoiding his eyes. “not your fault.”

“yeah, but still,” he says with a sigh. “she didn’t have to be an asshole to you.”

“it’s fine,” you say halfheartedly, bringing the plastic straw to your lips to take a small sip. “all the teachers get plastered at the staff parties.”

“you don’t, though,” he says after a pause.

“neither do you, looks like,” you say, pointing to the coke can in his hand.

he laughs. “no, not really… not when i have more fun things to do.”

for the second time that night you almost spit out your water. “that’s not funny, jihoon.”

“but you’re smiling,” he says, a grin of his own rising on his face, and you can’t hide the way your smile mirrors his.

you give in, letting out a laugh at his stupid joke, somehow both hating and loving how he was able to brighten your mood.

he smiles, his eyes sparkling under the restaurant lights. “do you maybe wanna… leave?”

ten minutes later, after a rushed goodbye to the assistant principal who was probably too drunk to even recognize you, your back is pressed against the side of jihoon’s car, your hands tangled in his hair as you moan into his mouth. his lips crash against yours, hands falling to your waist again as he pushes you into the passenger door.

when you pull away to take a breath, you can see his hair’s messed up again in that effortlessly sexy way that makes your heart race.

“can we go– someplace else?” you breathe. fuck if the back of your dress is totally dirty now from the car, you’re itching to get out of it—or have it taken off of you.

“shit, yes,” jihoon answers in between kisses up your jawline. “my place or yours?”

you whine at the feeling of his teeth against your skin. “anywhere, fuck– whatever’s closer.”

you find yourself in yet another extremely tense car ride as jihoon floors it down the highway, probably breaking more than a few traffic laws in his rush to get home. his house ends up being closer to the restaurant, so that’s where you decide on going.

he pulls in the driveway and you don’t even give him a chance to come around to open your door for you, jumping out of the car as soon as it’s turned off.

his hands fumble with his keys, but finally he gets the front door open and you both fall inside his house. the door slams shut behind you and immediately you’re shoved against it, jihoon’s hips pushing into you to keep you in place as you frantically grab at his broad shoulders to pull him closer. kissing him is addictive; the dizzying rush of his tongue in your mouth and his hands exploring your body makes you weak in the knees.

after a while you break apart, heaving for air as the lustful intensity starts to melt away into something more careful, but no less alluring. it’s finally starting to sink in that you’re kissing jihoon, you’re in his house, and you’re definitely getting laid tonight.

a sudden burst of confidence has you slipping one hand down, feeling his hips jerk when you palm him lightly over his pants.

“god, i’ve been hard for the past two hours,” he mutters through gritted teeth as your delicate fingers play with the top button on his slacks.

“you act like i haven’t been wet for the past two hours,” you reply, and he groans in relief when you undo the zipper, releasing some of the tension around his cock from how tight the dress pants were.

his hands grab at your waist, spinning you around to face away from him so he can unzip your dress. with how desperate he is—how you both are—you expect him to tug it off you as quickly as possible, but to your surprise, he moves slowly.

his hands smooth across your shoulders, running over your body through the fabric, and you shiver; the feeling of his touch is almost too much, even while you’re still fully clothed. his hands slide down your back, slowly moving to the sides of your breasts and traveling lower until they come to a stop at your waist.

he pulls you back against him, lightly grinding against your ass, and you whimper. you could already see he was, but now you know he really is as hard as he said, his clothed cock pressing into you.

his fingers move back up your body to toy with the zipper at the base of your neck, sending chills down your spine. he leans closer, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he leans in to press a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath your earlobe. 

“is this okay?” he breathes.

you whine, shifting on your feet to bring his lips back closer to you. “yes! please, jihoon.”

you can feel his smile against your neck before he dives back in, sucking lightly at your skin, burning hot under his touch. you’re sure he can feel your pulse racing a mile a minute as your legs start to buckle at the pleasure.

before you can stop yourself, you let out a loud moan, your head rolling back to rest against him and inadvertently exposing more of your neck to him. you feel his grip tighten around you, beginning to suck harder until you’re sure it’ll leave dark bruises. but for some reason, you don’t care. you want to carry around his marks on your neck. you want it to be a little obvious. if not for you, then to show that bitch jan what she was missing.

he pulls his mouth away from you and you whine again, but he just hums and puts his hands against your back, finally beginning to pull at the zipper.

he stops once it’s halfway down your body, moving his fingers back up to your shoulders to slip the fabric off, letting it hang around your waist.

he turns you around to face him, and you hastily reach around to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. he leans down and pushes his face into your bare breasts, moaning as he begins to sink to his knees in front of you.

if you hadn’t completely soaked through your panties earlier, you definitely have by now. you can feel the throbbing heat between your legs, begging for him to touch you, to do anything. 

he must read your mind, because immediately his hands reach behind you to grab onto the zipper again, tugging it down the rest of the way. he leaves a trail of kisses as the fabric falls to the side, starting in between your breasts and moving down lower, lower, past your belly button until he’s kissing the hem of your panties and your dress is in a pile at your feet.

you slip out of the dress, stepping out of your shoes as well as jihoon’s hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his face. he groans, his nose smushing against your clit through your underwear, and you gasp at the sudden contact.

he looks up at you, half his face obscured by the way he’s pressed against your body, only his eyes meeting yours, silently asking to continue. you whine out his name and another “please”, and that seems to satisfy him enough to loop his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear and tug them down to your knees.

the moment he presses his mouth to your pussy is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. the way his tongue darts out, laving over every inch of the skin between your legs, has you squeezing your eyes shut in pure bliss and begging him not to stop. your hand shoots to his head, struggling for something to hold onto to keep you grounded at the sudden pleasure.

but just as you start to feel your orgasm approaching, he pulls off of you in a rush, panting as he sits back on his heels. he couldn’t have had his tongue on you for more than a few seconds, but it was more than enough to build you up before he tore you right back down.

he pulls your panties back up your legs, fixing them back at your hips as he stands up. you shoot him a panicked look. he’s not about to eat you out, not let you finish, and then bail on you… is he?

but he just wipes his hand across the back of his mouth and picks your dress and shoes up off the hardwood floor. “we’re still in the front doorway,” he chuckles. he puts his hand on your lower back, your warm skin prickling at his cool touch as he leads you down the hall to what you assume is his bedroom. “thought you’d be more comfortable here.”

he flicks on the light and tosses your dress and shoes at the foot of the bed while you look around. his room is small but tidy, a keyboard in one corner and a few different guitars mounted on the wall.

it’s a pretty cool room, and if you weren’t so incredibly horny right now, you’d ask him to tell you about all his things, but right now all you can focus on is the tent in his pants that you’re praying will find its way between your legs sometime soon.

you’re still on edge from the orgasm he pulled you away from earlier, so you fall onto his bed with no hesitation, hoping he’ll get the hint as you lay in nothing but your underwear.

and he does, immediately coming over to you and beginning to strip down.

you should be embarrassed about how wet you are right now, but when your insanely sexy coworker is hurriedly pulling his shirt off, practically ripping the buttons off at how fast he throws it off, you have more important things on your mind. 

he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, so close you can feel his breath on your cunt. you throw your head back as his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties for a second time, effortlessly tugging them all the way off and tossing them into the pile along with the rest of your outfit.

he hums, collecting your wetness on the tip of his finger as he drags it through your folds. his hands are freezing cold in contrast to the heat between your legs. “so it wasn’t just me,” he says to himself, admiring the way his finger glistens with moisture.

“h-huh?” you stutter, lifting your head to look down at him. the way he’s crouching between your legs like he’s about to devour you makes you forget everything else that’s happened tonight.

he ghosts his lips over your clit, giving you a quick kiss. “for a while i thought you were only being friendly, when you went out with me all those times.” 

“but look how wet you are,” and he holds his finger up for you to see. “so it wasn’t just me that wanted you so bad. you wanted me too.”

he pushes his finger back into you for just a moment, spreading your juices around and wiping his fingers on the inside of your thigh. “wanted to bend you over that table in the coffee shop, the one in the corner we always sit at,” he groans out. “the counter in the teacher’s lounge, by the window. the bathroom sink at gyu’s bar earlier. and especially at the table at the restaurant. wanted to fuck you goddamn everywhere.”

“jihoon, please,” you whimper. him confessing how much he likes you turns you on, more than you’d like to admit.

“please, what?”

maybe it’s a little much to be asking for the first time with you, he’ll admit, but you’re both so desperate for each other, and you’re really enjoying it, so he figures he might as well go all out.

you throw your head back, but you give him what he wants. “please, will you eat me out, jihoon?”

and as much as he loves the way his name sounds falling from your lips, he’s not done with you yet. “soon,” he replies simply, and you start to protest until he shoves his finger back inside of you.

you try to hold back a yelp at his sudden touch, but it escapes you. he tsks, slowly adding a second finger and ignoring the way you shiver. “don’t be quiet, baby. with all the noise we make in my classroom, i never hear a peep out of you across the hall. i know you can be loud when you want to.”

and you do want to. it’s almost frightening how suddenly his personality has flipped– the shy man you only saw briefly in the halls now has you completely wrapped around his finger, begging him to touch you. and you don’t even care.

the next time he pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping hole, you don’t hold back your moans, breath catching in your throat as he begins to speed up. “there you go. good girl,” he coos in a low voice that makes you clench automatically around his fingers, and he grins mischievously. “you make such pretty sounds. should fuck you in my classroom next time, they’ve got better acoustics in there so i can hear your pretty voice better.”

you’re much too focused on the way his thumb is flicking your swollen clit to comprehend the way he says “next time” as if this isn’t a one time thing. but after, when you’ve recovered enough to remember the things said in the heat of the moment, those words are something you won’t forget.

“jihoon, please, don’t talk about work while you’re fucking me,” you manage.

he just grins and laughs, pushing his fingers into you faster. before you know it you feel your orgasm building back up, and you have to resist the urge to reach down and tug on his hair to get him to go faster.

but somehow he must know you’re getting close, because he leans forward and wraps his lips around your clit and starts sucking, hard. your back arches and you gasp, not expecting the sudden warmth of his mouth on you.

he flicks his tongue as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, and with a cry of his name he finally lets you cum. your cunt clenches hard around his fingers, so tight he can barely keep moving them, but somehow he does, helping you through your orgasm as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over you.

you lay on his bed, panting, trying to catch your breath as he stands up, finally removing his own underwear.

“are you alright?” he asks, and you sit up on your elbows, your vision returned enough to see him now standing nude in front of you.

your eyes are glued to his cock when you answer, staring at how gorgeous it looks and how badly you want him in your mouth. “yeah, i’m–”

“then get up.”

your eyes widen. “huh?”

“do you wanna be on top?” he asks, but you’re already shifting to move off of the bed.

“yes, please.”

he grins. “good.” he sits down where you were just laying, cock resting against his defined abs as you climb up to straddle him. immediately his hands find your waist, guiding you over him.

you push your hips down to grind your clit over his length, not putting him inside you just yet, but moving so he slides through your folds, coating him in your juices.

it’s almost pathetic how eagerly you’re writhing against him, sliding up and down his abs desperately. your eyes are squeezed shut as you concentrate on the pleasure, so you miss the way he stares up at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

what you don’t miss is the way his hands begin to grip more roughly at your hips, helping you ride him until he forces your movements to stop. you pry your eyes open to look at him.

“can i fuck you now?” he asks, and the sudden breathiness in his tone gives you a rush like you’ve never felt. 

“please, jihoon,” you whimper in response, voice equally as breathy. “please, been waiting all night.”

he leans his head back against the pillows and exhales, letting his eyes fall closed for a second. “good, because i was about to cum from that.”

you giggle, placing your hands flat on his chest. “well, that wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing.”

he groans. “i know, but then i wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

you lean down to kiss him and he melts into your lips, his hands sliding up your back to grip at your shoulders and pull you closer.

he pushes up and manages to flip you over onto your back again, pressing one more kiss to your lower lip before shuffling down the bed. you spread your legs apart to give him better access, and he positions himself between them, looking down at you with a woozy smile on his face.

he begins pushing into you and you moan. the feeling of being full is something you haven’t felt in a while, but the feeling of being full of jihoon is a completely different story, and you don’t know whether you could go back to anyone else, even if you wanted to.

he pauses for a minute to let you adjust, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you finally feel him pull out and slowly push back in.

“god, you feel so fucking good,” he whines as he starts to increase his pace, hips rocking against yours.

you let your head fall back against the pillows in open-mouthed pants. “more, jihoon, please.”

he leans down and pushes your thighs up against your chest, holding your legs as he continues to pound into you. you vaguely register the praises that fall from his lips with how good he feels inside of you, each thrust angled perfectly to have you already coming closer and closer to the edge.

“jihoon– please! ‘m so close, please let me cum,” you sputter, hands fisting at the sheets for something to hold on to. you don’t know where this side of you came from all of a sudden, asking him for permission, but you can’t deny you kind of like it.

“go on, baby, cum for me,” he says, his voice low and breathy.

and with one more thrust you do, falling apart around him as pleasure burns through every inch of you. all you can do is whimper and let him fuck you through your orgasm, your vision going blank for a few seconds from so much stimulation all at once.

he keeps pushing into you, only easing his pace when you blink up at him, slowly coming back down to earth. your walls spasm around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you when you murmur out his name. his thrusts get sloppier and more hurried as he begins to chase his own orgasm. 

“wh–where do you want me to–”

“on my face?” you interrupt, answering his question for him.

he curses under his breath, immediately followed by a low moan. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters. you clench around him and he swears again, finally pulling out of your cunt and holding his cock above you.

his hand moves quickly back and forth along his length as he chases his high, and it hits when you open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out, the lustful look on your face making him lose his mind.

his thick spurts of cum cover your upper half, painting your chin, your neck, your collarbones with white. the little bit that lands on your tongue you eagerly swallow, opening again to show him your empty mouth afterwards, and he groans at the sight.

he rolls over onto the bed, spent. the room is quiet for a minute, the only sound your soft exhales and his labored breathing as it begins to slow.

he presses a kiss to your cheek and slides off the bed, leaving the room for a second before he returns with a cool, wet washcloth, gently cleaning you off. in the moments he’s gone you sigh, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath you and basking in the fading glow of your orgasm.

since it’s saturday night and your sundays are usually free, you decide to spend the night with him. both of you are too exhausted to drive, and jihoon is more than happy to let you stay over. of course he would never force you to stay and he would happily pay for your uber home if you wanted, but he won’t deny that he secretly was hoping to spend a little more time with you before school on monday.

you scrub the makeup off your face as best you can and slip into the clothes he offered you, a t-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. after getting cleaned up and comfortable, he makes a small pot of coffee and shows you the rest of his house. it’s a cute little place; not the biggest, but just right for him.

there’s an instrument in almost every room, and now you sit at the edge of his bed wrapped in a blanket, working up the courage to ask him if he’ll play something for you. “i always hear your students, but i’ve never heard you,” you laugh.

he smiles and pulls one of his guitars off the wall, just a hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks as he adjusts the tuning pegs. he strums a couple notes, humming along quietly as he settles into a gentle rhythm.

later, you’re lying in bed with him (he offered to sleep on the couch and let you have his bed to yourself, but you insisted on him staying). the colored lamp on his bedside table is on, casting a soft red glow around the room.

the sheets rustle as he rolls over onto his side. “i’m sorry if it was… intense, earlier,” he says quietly. “i was–” he pauses, thinking of his next words carefully. “i was excited. you’re so… i really admire you. so i might’ve been a little too eager.”

with a little effort you manage to roll over to face him. you reach across the sheets to run your hand through his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear. “don’t apologize,” you whisper. “it was perfect.”

he sighs, and even in the dim red light you can see his shoulders visibly relax. “i’m glad you decided to spend the night,” he whispers back.

you smile. “me too.”

“so you have a boyfriend now?”

you glance up, trying not to instinctively rub at the fading marks on your neck. “and what makes you think that?” you say. okay, so maybe you do technically have… something, now.

“i saw pictures of you and mr. lee on the school’s facebook from the christmas party,” heather says nonchalantly.

before you can even think of a response, something like, “why are you searching for pictures of me,” or, “since when does the school have a facebook profile?”, she shrugs and goes back to her grammar assignment. you were so caught up in jihoon at the party that you honestly don't even remember anyone taking pictures, but you can only hope they didn’t catch the way you were looking at each other in a decidedly not pg-rated way, right before you decided to leave the event.

you hold in a laugh, watching her. she doesn’t say anything more, so you look back at the homework in front of you, waiting to finish being graded. a shiver runs down your spine at the memory of jihoon’s hands roaming your body over the weekend, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you with his fingers and his tongue and his beautiful cock.

“if you two get married, can i be the flower girl?” you hear a minute later, interrupting the silence—and your naughty daydreams. “since it was me that got you together.”

“we’ll see,” you glare playfully, raising your eyebrows. after saturday night spent together and the following lazy sunday afternoon filled with soft kisses in between heated touches, you can’t say it isn’t entirely out of the question. but that’s not something you’re about to tell heather and her little gossip group. those details, you’ll have to keep to yourself.

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♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡ from memory, this was a really cute younghoon fic <3

the c in ceo stands for cute | k.yh

pairings: kim younghoon x reader genre: ceo au, secretary!reader x ceo!younghoon, strangers to lovers summary: in which your handsome boss is often mistaken as cold due to his good looks and forward personality, but is actually the sweetest introvert you’ve ever met word count: 7.2k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“It’s been such a pleasure working for you, Mr Kim,” you told the CEO of the company you worked for, genuinely meaning every word.

Mr Kim beamed at you, eyes bright behind the large frames of his glasses. “The pleasure was all mine, Y/n,” he assured you. “You’re a marvellous help. My son is going to love you,” he was sure.

The heir of the Kim corporation, Kim Younghoon, was returning from getting his Masters degree from Harvard Business School just in time to take over after his father retired. He was a little young to be the CEO of such a large corporation, but Mr Kim had a lot of faith in his son, and spoke very highly of him.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” you smiled, even though you were lying through your teeth.

There had been enough rumours about Kim Younghoon going around for you to know what to expect. His schoolmates said that he was often cold to them, giving blunt answers instead of mingling with his peers, and having an air of superiority around him. You asked some of your older coworkers if they knew much about him, since you had only been Mr Kim’s secretary for a little over two years, and they feared him too much to have ever really approached him.

Keep reading

I can feel the self-confidence oozing through the screen 😩💖

Good Luck Fuck

❂Pairing: Lee Heeseung (Enha) x Reader (f) ❂Au: Mech Anime au ❂Trope: coworkers to lovers ❂Rating: 18+, MDNI, smut, pwp ❂Warnings: public sex, penetrative sex with no barrier ❂Word Count: 454 ❂Summary: you're a soldier that operates a mech and Heeseung sit the designated engineer/mechanic assigned to you. However, his dedication goes a bit farther when he becomes your good luck charm ❂Dedication: @starlitmark my jasper who dragged encouraged me in this fandom. this is for you!

Heeseung's well-laid trap sprung on you quite quickly. What once started as a moment to let off steam before you went into battle became somewhat of a good luck charm.

Every time, before you slipped into your skintight suit and connected to your mechsuit, Chaconne, you fucked Heeseung. He would sit in your seat, the latch to your mech still open and you would ride him for all he was worth.

Like currently, with his lilac hair almost plastered on his face and a smug grin, you waved your hips, enjoying the friction of his pelvis against your clit and the drag of his dick deep inside of you.

“Sunghoon always wonders why I'm so mellow when you're out there fighting, even when you do damage to Chaconne,” Heeseung mentioned casually, folding his arms behind his head.

It appeared as if you were doing all the work but Heeseung knew precisely how to flex his pelvis muscles so you could get a good bounce and add a small thrust up into you to get you to gasp in delight. He was simply good at everything he tried, that's why it looked like he was doing much; everything came easy to him.

You leaned into him, an arm on each side of his head. “And do you tell him why you're so mellow?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“No,” Heeseung said in a teasing tone, “Otherwise he might get a mental picture.”

A whine built in the back of your throat, your climax building. “Good,” You replied, sitting back to effectively bounce on Heeseung's cock.

The cocky look slipped a bit and he looked concerned. “Wait, good he doesn't have a mental picture or good, you want him to think of you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Heeseung,” You started, “Do you think I want Sunghoon to imagine me fucking you, me in my skin-tight mechsuit and you in your baggy, dirty jumpsuit?”

The frowned deepened. “It's not dirty!” He protested, completely missing the point.

You ran a fond finger down the slope of his nose. “You've got a smudge of grease right here.”

Heeseung whined and you giggled. You grabbed both his hands and brought them to your breasts. “Here hold these,” You suggested.

You braced the balls of your feet on the seat below you, bent your legs and truly began to fuck yourself on Heeseung's dick. You both cried out at quicken of pace and soon the both of you found your release. You collapsed on Heeseung's body and he tiredly wrapped his arms around you.

“Please be careful out there,” He murmured into the crook of your neck.

“I don't need to be careful,” You quipped, “I'm too good for that.”

everything here is just, 👩🏻‍🍳💋✨

the most basic MASTERLIST ever

I don’t take requests! I just write whatever I want 🤷🏻‍♀️

NCT

How to (not) Write a Book (M): Werewolf! Taeyong x Female reader

Comforting Jisung (M)

Fuck the Police (M): Werewolf! Yuta x Witch! Female reader

The Moon Makes No Mistakes (M): Werewolf! Jeno x Female reader x Werewolf! Jaemin

Perfect Little Toy (M): Werewolf! Mark x Witch! Female reader

Too Young (M): Werewolf! Jisung x Witch! Female reader (Sequel to Presenting)

New Town, New Me(M): Werewolf! Jaemin x Witch! Female reader

Presenting(M): Werewolf! Jisung x Witch! Female reader

Sucks to Be Him(M): Werewolf! Haechan x Witch! Female reader

Epiphany(M): Werewolf! Doyoung x Witch! female reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (pt. 5) (pt. 6) (pt. 7) (pt. 8) (pt. 9) (pt. 10) (pt. 11) (pt. 12) (pt. 13 FINALE)

this was the fic that started my changmin phase 😩💘

♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

Forbidden | Ji Changmin

SUMMARY: you have been separated from your childhood best friend, Changmin for years. so when you both finally reunite on a mission together, he is no longer the childhood friend you have once come to know of, and things were going to take a turn for the both of you.

PAIRING: spy Changmin x spy f!reader

GENRE: ex-bffs to lovers au, angst, crime, suggestive

WARNINGS: nc-17, violence, mentions of gambling, mentions of human trafficking, kissing, making out

WORD COUNT: 3,168

A/N: here is the 3rd entry from my 100 followers event, and this was requested by my 妹妹 @sungbeam 💕 the way you chose that specific prompt lmao i knew i had to deliver some ✨good food✨ for you, and i hope it was worthy of your taste miss beam 😮‍💨 (it might be a bit rushed so i humbly apologise i wrote this in one sitting)

“Agent Y/N, reporting in.” 

You knocked at your boss's door and stood there enthusiastically, awaiting your next mission. 

It has been a while since you were deployed on field missions, hence the excitement you felt when you received a code entitled “S-Rank”, which indicated the highest rank of difficulty of missions that only a selected few are allowed to participate in. 

You have been with your current agency for a few years, and through hard work and determination, you rose up to one of the higher-ranking agents in the field. With that, you are mostly deployed on the field, dealing with many missions that are far more gruesome and dangerous, which could eventually cost you your life if you weren’t careful enough. But you were a fighter—a soldier equipped with wits and extraordinary martial arts skills. 

As a result, you have been placed on training duties where you were assigned to train the new recruits to prepare them as they make their official debut on the field. Not that you were entirely mad about it, since martial arts was one of your fortes, but you surely miss being on the field and on an actual mission. 

Hence, you couldn’t contain your excitement for the day, and you couldn’t wait to gear back up and return to your comfort zone. 

Your boss—Director Ji, was pretty pleased with the number of upcoming recruits that were going to officially join the team, as several agents were currently abroad to fulfill their own missions. In other words, your company desperately needs potential ones who could take on field missions. 

This time, however, he hands you a red folder with all the necessary information about the mission. You knew what the red folder exactly meant—ones that could indeed cause a life or death situation, and there is no room for even a single mistake for this one. Usually, these were given to the elites, not even to higher-ranking agents like yourself. 

The Elites are the best of the best, and they excel in every possible scenario or situation that they are in, no matter how brutal the mission may be. They do not engage much with the other agents except for the director himself, as they are often sent away far abroad to handle much more trivial matters at hand. 

If your director has handed you such a folder where it’s not meant for you on a usual basis, that could only mean one thing. You were to step in as a substitute and be paired with at least one of the members from the elites and fulfill the mission as swiftly and hassle-free as possible. 

As you were about to turn back and take your leave, your director stopped you just in time to inform you that this mission requires some more training than usual, and you were to be paired up with one of them to prepare for the big day.

Training with one of the elites? Obviously, how could you ever say no? It is definitely a dream come true for you as you have always admired them from the shadows. Enthusiastically, you nodded and agreed with the offer as you stepped out of the room.

“This is going to be so much fun.”

“I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you.” 

The brunette shoots you with that cold and blunt statement, and in return, you give the male the biggest frown of the day. 

As much as you were enthusiastic the entire morning as you prepared yourself for whoever would join you for the mission, the excitement immediately died down when the infamous elite member, Ji Changmin, stepped foot into the training room.

Your ex-childhood best friend. 

Both you and Changmin go all the way back to kindergarten, you both were literally neighbours up till high school. You have spent both of your childhood together, to the point that you both knew exactly what were the biggest insecurities each of you had, even knowing how many crushes you had and how you both are hopeless romantics. 

But as Changmin and his family moved away after graduating high school, you both lost contact with one another, never speaking or keeping in touch for many years. 

Until you graduate from university. 

Somehow, you have managed to stumble upon the Director’s Ji company, which he has been operating secretly for many years—thanks to one of your seniors who recommended you to him. He was more than delighted to take you in, knowing how you eventually pursued criminology and eventually keen on the idea of becoming a spy yourself. 

That was when you were reunited with Ji Changmin. You were beyond ecstatic when you first saw him in person again. You wanted to run into him, give him the biggest embrace, and take in all his scent—one you have missed so dearly after all these years.

But the male eventually shut you off before you could do anything. He was nowhere near like the Changmin you used to grow up and love—he was now cold, often very stern, and would work alone instead rather than with others. 

Because of that, you have never gotten the chance to talk things out with him, and you realise that it’s best for you to keep a distance from him now. 

Never in a million years would that day come so soon for you both to reunite on a S-Rank Mission. 

His simple yet cold statement immediately ruined your mood, and you were about to fire back at the male. But he was already prepared with his gear and gloves, waiting for you to join him on the training mat. 

Given his demeanour, you knew that dragging his time would be a fatal mistake right now, and you had no choice but to equip yourself with the necessary items and join him as fast as you could. 

As you make your way to his way, you can’t help but notice his appearance. His hair was parted to the side, and a little scar was situated right on his left cheek. He was wearing a simple black tee, but you couldn’t help but notice how buff he had gotten and how the shirt was clearly a little too tight for him. 

The way his biceps were clearly so toned than ever, and god. The veins— 

“When will you stop ogling and get yourself together?” He shoots you with an unfriendly look. Clearly, his patience is running out. 

“Fine. God, what an impatient man you have become.” You blurted out by accident, eyes widening as you just realised you had let out your frustration and most inner thoughts. You looked up to meet the male face-to-face, only to realise that he was not bothered by that comment at all. 

He has dealt with much worse before, this is nothing to him.

As you finally got into your position, you raised both of your now balled-up fists and stood in a defensive mood, ready for whatever moves the male would lay upon you. Unfortunately, you were a bit too slow to notice the swift movement he had made, and immediately, you were on the ground, groaning as you felt a slight pain upon your lower chin. 

“Just so you know, I won’t go easy on you just because you are a girl. I’ll have you know that the enemies we deal with on S-Rank missions are far more murderous and barbaric than you have ever encountered. They could potentially become your worst nightmare. If this is how you will act on the field, I’m afraid you will lose your life within minutes.” Changmin spat, and boy, did it hurt as hell. 

Angered, you got back up on your feet as you repositioned yourself again, trying your best to keep up with his swift movements this time. 

This training went on for quite a while, and never once did you manage to land a blow on Changmin himself. Instead, you were constantly attacked at your blind spots and always on the ground, trying to find your way back up again. 

God, this is going to be a hell of a ride. 

The intense training with Changmin lasted for a few days, and the amount of bruises you have gotten thanks to him was uncountable. 

Every day, you would return home and find yourself sitting by your bedside, applying an ice pack and ointment to each and every one of them. It has been quite a while since you have felt like this.

Humiliated and defeated.

This only happened when you were still a rookie, as you were training with your superiors then. Ever since you made your debut, you have done nothing but win in all the physical battles you have dealt with, both on and off the field.

“I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you.” 

His words constantly echo into your mind, and you just can’t seem to get it off as much as you wanted. No matter how cruel they seemed, you knew his words meant well for you. 

This is a S-Rank mission, for goodness sake, Y/N. It is either you defeat the enemy or be defeated yourself. 

Taking in a deep breath as you closed your eyes, you just mentally prayed and hoped that all of the intense training with your ex-childhood best friend has at least done something for you and that you will be well-prepared as you both head into your designated location for tomorrow night. 

Let’s just get this done and over with.

The both of you arrived discreetly at the location, equipped with a radio earpiece to receive necessary transmissions from one another to keep each other in the loop as you both parted ways to scout around the area. 

The target of the mission was to infiltrate one of the largest and most well-known casinos in the heart of Seoul, The Grand Palace, as it is believed that the area itself was used for human trafficking, which explains the sudden disappearance of a handful of women in their early 20s over the past few months. 

According to the information you both were given, as written in the red folder, the CEO of the casino, Mr Kim, was the mastermind behind all of this and had his men surrounding the casino at all times to prevent information from spreading while keeping his gambling business on the run.

Both of your mission was to infiltrate the control room—download all of the necessary information that could potentially expose the hidden and true business the casino was making money from. And, of course, to get the girls out of there once and for all. 

Changmin suggested taking on the latter as he knew the area would be armed with more enemies to keep the girls out of reach. It was best suited for him to take on the role of doing the dirty work instead of you potentially. In return, you were to get to the control room and bypass the security, download the necessary data, get out of there, and pass it on to the FBI, who were already armed and ready for your signal. 

So that was precisely what you did, with no room for arguments this time. It was kind of a maze to navigate to the control room, especially when the casino was filled with many individuals and the place was dark as hell. Yet, you had to bypass everyone while being undetected. To the best of your abilities, you eventually reached the destination, and sure enough, you were met with your worst nightmare. 

Tons of red light laser security filled the room way before the entrance to the control room.

You were flexible, to say the least, but there is no way you could bypass all of these on your own. Whenever you were met in such a situation, you always had your superior or partner to figure it out together. But time was ticking, and you had no choice but to do it all alone this time. 

As you slowly bent through each of the lasers and eventually made your way to the last one, you breathed in relief that there was no one around to notice your presence. But your happiness did not last for long, as you missed out on one of the lasers that was situated close to your right ankle. Sure enough, the alarms have begun going off. 

Panicking, you tried your best to figure out an escape route as quickly as possible. But given the room's darkness, it was impossible to notice anything in particular. 

That is until a lightbulb dings in your mind, and you look up to see a slightly ajar air vent. 

It’s now or never. 

With the equipment you were geared up with, you somehow managed to quickly get into the vent right before security guards came pouring into the room, trying to find the culprit behind all of this. 

You began trying to calm your fast-beating heart down, that is, until you felt a pair of warm hands cupped over your mouth. 

“Have they not taught you well how the very first rule of becoming a spy is not to get caught?” 

That voice. It was Changmin. 

You turned behind to find the male looking very displeased, and he was still cupping your mouth, not letting it go as he was convinced your breathing would definitely blow up both of your covers. Frustrated, you tried your best to fight against his grip, loosening yourself from him and yelling back at him silently. 

“Look, laser securities was not my best forte.” 

“That’s not a valid excuse, Y/N. You literally had one job, and you failed at doing so.”

You scoffed. “Really, Changmin? After all these years, you suddenly show up in my life again, only to turn into this cold-blooded spy with zero empathy left inside of him? Has becoming one of the elites affected your ego that much?” 

Then, there was a slight pause. Changmin’s face then darkens as he scooches closer to you. “Don’t you dare say it as if you knew what I have been through over the years that we were separated from one another.” 

Clearly, you were not backing down this time. “Oh yeah, then tell me. All the bullshit you went through made you turn into such a heartless individual.” 

In the blink of an eye, Changmin cups his hands around your mouth once again as he pushes you down on the surface of the vent. He is now crawling up against you, moving in closer to you. 

“You take that back right now, miss Y/N. I swear if I ever hear one more word from you—”

“Then what?” You muffled. 

Then it all happened. Changmin did what he knew was best to shut you up. As swiftly as he often portrays with his martial arts abilities, he removes his hand from your mouth and plants a kiss directly onto your lips. The whole thing was aggressive and messy, as one would say, he was now kissing you messily, trying by all means to keep your mouth shut as the enemies were still down below. 

On the other hand, you were far too taken aback by what happened, and your eyes were now as wide as they could ever be. Somehow, your body did not reject his touch or the kiss, in fact, you actually liked it. 

Was it because you were too deprived of having him close to you? How badly you have missed him so much? 

And how you never got to confess to him that you had feelings for him right before he left all those years ago.

This kiss was a dream come true for you. And you were not planning to let him go anytime soon. Instead, you moved your hands to tangle in his hair as you opened your mouth slightly to allow for more room for the both of you. Changmin then lays one of his hands on the side of your waist while the other travels up to one of your breasts, giving them a light squeeze. Adding to the tension, he then makes way for his tongue to enter your mouth, trying his best to devour up all of the elicit moans that you were letting out to keep this whole make-out session as quiet as possible. 

And god, how much he loved hearing the moans coming out from you. 

Neither of you planned on stopping anytime soon because this all felt so good. It was as if you both had longed for each other and now that you finally had, you were not going to let him go just yet. 

Finally, after minutes, the both of you were gasping for air when Changmin realised that nobody was in the room anymore. The coast was clear, and both of you were safe enough to return and continue the mission. 

Trying your best to steady your breathing again, you decided to shoot the male with a little tease. “You treat all of your ladies like this?” 

“...Shut up.” 

It did not take you both long enough to be able to infiltrate the control room. With your abilities, you both managed to knock out all of the individuals in the room cold while you went to the main system to download all of the information needed to expose the casino. As ordered by Changmin previously, you wasted no time leaving the premises as soon as possible to get help from the FBI. 

While you were doing that, Changmin made his way to where the girls were kept captive and defeated all the guards on standby on his own. He then managed to free them all and escorted them out, where the police and medical assistants were already waiting for them. 

At the end of the day, the mission was a huge success, and the mastermind and his team were eventually placed behind bars, facing life imprisonment as punishment. 

After returning to your headquarters a few days later, you were then promoted to joining the elites by Director Ji himself, as he was pleased with your performance. However, there was one strict rule that these agents were to follow.

Never engage in personal matters with one another. 

Before you could think about it further, your phone buzzed and you exited your agency, feeling slightly excited as you made your way into the black vehicle already waiting for you. 

As soon as you opened the door and entered, you stared at the male with one of his hands on the steering wheel while the other came up to cup your cheek.

“Say, won’t your dad eventually discover all of this?” You questioned with a concerned look on your face. 

Changmin then leans in to give a peck on your lips. 

“Who says he needs to find out about it?”

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @vernyangel (join my permanent taglist here!)

a pot full of built-up tension and angst, so good that it could give you heartburn 😩❤️‍🔥

Heartbreak On The Dancefloor; Yeonjun

Genre: angst, fluff, best friends to lovers, model!Yeonjun, photographer!Yn,

Word count: 12.8K

Warnings: slight love triangle with Minho (sorry lino), alcohol, mentions of body insecurities, misunderstanding trope, a lot of pining, just hopeless losers being in love to be honest

Authors Note at the end of the fic!

Playlist: psychic-chris brown // jealous-nick jonas // save room for us-tinashe // you-regard // heartbreak on the dancefloor-sg lewis // up to me-lany // lmly-jackson wang // would you-the vamps // stockholm syndrome-one direction

"Ready?" The director asked and you quickly gave him a nod, holding up the camera in your hands as a way to confirm to him just how ready you were for this job.

He looked slightly unsure but nodded nonetheless, a sigh falling from his lips before he turned around.

"Okay, get back, everyone. We are starting again," he exclaimed and watched everyone return to set as the ten-minute break had reached its end.

Your eyes fell on supermodel Yeonjun Choi and his co-worker, a beautiful blond model, walking in with coffees in their hands, talking about something you couldn't hear. Yeonjun had a smirk adorning his lips as he told the woman a story and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes. He was such a flirt.

Just as you averted your focus back to your camera, the director turned to you once again with a stern expression on his face. "This is a big job, Yn Yln. You better prove to me that what I've heard about you is correct."

You felt someone stare at you from across the room and after glancing to the side, you received confirmation that your senses were correct. Yeonjun had his eyes on you.

You swallowed before quickly nodding. "Of course, sir," you stated politely, attempting to mask your nervousness.

He nodded before veering around to the models and staff members. "Third and last round! This time with a new photographer."

All eyes turned to you and you offered a clumsy wave. You caught the way Yeonjun looked down to hide his smile, causing your nerves to worsen. Was he laughing at your awkwardness?

After a minute and some makeup touch-ups on Yeonjun and his co-model Lana, everyone was back in position.

The director gave the two instructions on how to pose and it amazed you just how quickly they caught up on every instruction. They were undoubtedly talented.

You took a deep breath and were just about to bring your camera to your eyes when they found Yeonjun's dark ones, and you caught the wink he sent your way, which was presumably supposed to be a reassuring gesture but made your heart almost stop beating.

You let out an unsteady breath, not daring to react to him in any way. This shoot was too important for you to screw up, so in a second, your focus was back on your job.

Yeonjun noticed your professional side taking over and he couldn't help but swallow at how attractive the sight was.

The first flash illuminated the room and that was the start of the photoshoot.

For the first few shots, Lana had to stand behind a sitting Yeonjun with her arms draped over his shoulders and her hands slightly disappearing in his satin shirt.

Yeonjun looked into the camera with a seducing smirk on his lips and you could already imagine how amazing the pictures would come out, making your nerves slowly start calming down the more pictures you shot. If you hadn't been so focused on taking the pictures, you probably would've melted at how sexy Yeonjun looked.

You took multiple pictures from different angles as Yeonjun and Lana switched positions, and your mood was going up with every picture you shot.

The last position was Yeonjun standing behind Lana and him having to lower his face slightly into her neck.

But just as you were about to click on the button of your camera, Yeonjun looked up through his thick lashes and his eyes met yours once again, making your insides do a back flip.

"Eyes on Lana, Choi," the director ordered, and Yeonjun snickered at your flustered reaction before averting his eyes back to his co-worker.

You rolled your eyes frustratedly. What was he thinking?

After you shot the final picture, you heard the director's announcement that the shoot was over, which was followed by applause.

You lowered your camera and let out a breathy laugh, not being able to wrap your head around the fact that you just shot for Vogue.

People around you started congratulating each other for yet another successful photoshoot and after having discussed with the director when you were going to have the pictures ready, you went to get yourself a glass of water, your face practically glowing. This entire opportunity was perfect for your growing career as a photographer and to your relief, everything went smoothly and practically flawlessly. You had even caught the director proudly smiling once after peeking at your camera over your shoulder.

"So how's my little photographer feeling?"

The low voice in your ear made you almost let out a yelp as you put down the glass of water.

"Can you not sneak up on me like that?" You asked before turning around to face your best friend, who also happened to be the worldwide-known supermodel, Choi Yeonjun. To you, he was just Jun, though.

When you saw the excited expression on Yeonjun's face, you couldn't help but grin.

"She's feeling amazing," you responded earnestly, making Yeonjun's eyes turn into crescents.

"Well, she did amazing too."

You looked down. "Thank you, Jun. But I got lucky with a good model."

Yeonjun bit his lower lip, his cheeks immediately heating up. "Thank you-"

"Lana is perfect. You did well too, by the way," you interrupted him, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Yeonjun's smile dropped and got replaced with a scowl, making you let out a laugh.

"I'm just kidding, Jun. You are-," you looked away, not being able to look him in the eyes as the compliment was about to leave your lips, "-genuinely born to do this. Thank you so much for getting me this opportunity. I'm forever grateful. I don't even know how to repay you."

Yeonjun's heart sped up and his face softened at your genuine words.

"You deserved this opportunity more than anyone. I'm just glad I had the chance to show people your talents," he shrugged.

You blinked a few times as you looked at your best friend. "Thank you."

Yeonjun stared into your eyes and slowly started to feel himself zoning out from reality. Like it was only you and him standing in the room.

This happened a little too often lately.

"Jun?"

Your voice made Yeonjun snap out of the trance, and he quickly cleared his throat before forcing the infamous smirk to return to his face. "I know a way you can repay me, though," he winked.

You narrowed your eyes. It only ever meant bad news when he gave you this look.

"You're going to The Winter Event with me tomorrow."

You sighed. "Yeonjun, we both know I don't belong there-"

"Shush, you belong there more than anyone else."

You arched an eyebrow. "Why? I'm not a model. Hell, no one except you even knows me. I'll just embarrass myself with my looks next to all the supermodels, dude. What about; I wait for you at my place with wine and all the Friends episodes so you can come over and relax after the event, hm?"

"First of all, you're hotter than all of the models attending. Actually, you're just the hottest girl I know, period, and my opinion is always correct since I'm a guy with exquisite taste. But that's beside the point."

This made your cheeks heat up and your jaw almost drop. Almost, because you were certain he didn't actually mean his words. "I-"

"Second of all, binging Friends with you with a bottle of wine sounds amazing, so that's definitely still happening after the event. After we both get back from it. Because we are both going."

You rolled your eyes and nudged his shoulder with your fist. "You're so annoying, Choi, did you know that?"

Yeonjun grabbed your hand before you could retrieve it, making you look up surprised.

"I have heard so before, yes. I'm going to change now so we can go home," he stated before pulling you along with him to the dressing room.

"And I have to come with you?" You asked as you allowed your best friend to drag you through the halls.

"Yes, so we can discuss what time I'm picking you up tomorrow night," he responded without looking at you.

"Jun, I'm not going-"

"Oh, you so are," he interrupted before sending you a wink over his shoulder.

When you finally got into the dressing rooms, Yeonjun closed the door behind you and walked to the heap of clothes laying in the corner of the room.

You leaned against the door and watched Yeonjun as he searched for his hoodie in the pile of clothing.

"You're not going to ask me to turn around?" You teased, crossing your arms over your chest the moment he was about to start unbuttoning his satin shirt.

"Why would I? You're acting as if you have never seen me shirtless before," Yeonjun replied casually as he unbuttoned the first few buttons before looking at you through his lashes. Your eyes widened for a split second and Yeonjun mentally praised himself for flustering you, knowing you were the one trying to fluster him in the first place with your comment.

You huffed. "Dude, that sounds weird."

This made Yeonjun let out a heartfelt laugh as he dropped the satin shirt on the chair and you quickly averted your eyes to avoid accidentally staring at his toned upper body.

"It isn't illegal to look, you know?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeonjun, if you don't shut up right now."

He laughed again and walked up to you. "Then what?"

"I'm done," you stated, turning around to leave the room. But just before you could even try to open the door, Yeonjun's hand had already sneaked past your body to lock it.

You felt your heart skip a beat and turned around to face him but for some reason, you had not expected his face to be this close to yours, causing you to almost jump.

"Have you never heard of personal space, Choi?"

"I have. But I don't mind sharing my personal space with you," he cheekily smiled.

Your heart was now hammering against your chest and you hated the way he was capable of flustering you this much. He was your best friend, for God's sake.

"That's cute. But I do mind sharing my personal space with you, so-" You shoved him away by pressing the palm of your hand to his forehead, and he let out a small huff.

"Boring."

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the chair to grab Yeonjun's hoodie before throwing it at him.

"Get changed, Casanova."

Halting in your tracks, you turned around. "Speaking of being a Casanova; your chemistry with Lana was through the roof today."

Your comment earned a surprised look from Yeonjun after he pulled the hoodie over his head, an action that tousled his gelled hair.

"It was?"

You hummed. "The way you looked at her? Damn."

He felt his insides turn hot at your statement. "Y-yeah?"

You grinned. "Why are you so shy all of a sudden?"

Yeonjun avoided your gaze and went to look for his sweatpants.

If only you knew the reason he was able to look at Lana like that was because he imagined you standing in front of him instead of her, maybe then you had reacted differently.

"I'm not getting shy. I'm just trying t-to find my stupid sweatpants- where are they!?" He groaned, making you chuckle.

You looked at him with a smug expression on your face and leaned against the door, making Yeonjun freeze when his eyes fell on you.

Why was it getting so hot in this room? He wondered as his eyes scanned you from head to toe, and let out a small breath before mentally slapping himself back to reality.

"Can you leave? I need to change my pants," Yeonjun ordered as he walked toward you.

"Oh, so now I have to leave?" You grinned and Yeonjun rolled his eyes as he pushed you out of the room.

"Pick something we can order for dinner," he murmured before successfully closing the door in your face.

He heard your laugh from the other side of the door, and couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle as he rested his forehead against the door. Oh, what were you doing to him?

"I'm not going to the event tomorrow, by the way." Your voice sounded playful now but Yeonjun shook his head nonetheless as he went to grab his pants.

"I'll be at your door at eight. Either you're going to wear the dress I ordered and sent to your place or you're going to be dressed in sweatpants, I don't care. You're accompanying me either way."

You were glad he couldn't see your face when you heard he had ordered you a dress because your jaw was practically on the ground.

"O-oh my God, Yeonjun, I-"

"Please just wear the dress," he breathed.

For once, Yeonjun was grateful that he, even though he owned a lot of confidence, had just enough doubts and insecurities left in him to stop himself just in time from saying the second part of his thoughts out loud.

I need to see you in it.

You let out a shaky breath as you looked at yourself in the body-sized mirror in your bedroom. The satin material felt soft under your fingers as you smoothened it down. You shook your head and let out a small sigh. Even after having spammed Yeonjun with messages and a call freaking out about it and him responding with you deserve this, stop thanking me, you still just couldn't wrap your mind around the fact Yeonjun actually bought you the dress you wished for so badly.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

"Yn, can you hurry up? I want ice cream-"

Yeonjun halted mid-sentence when he noticed why you had stopped walking. He walked back to stand next to you and followed your gaze.

Your eyes were glued to the black satin dress hugging the body of a mannequin behind the window of the boutique. It was long and had a split mid-thigh. There was no doubt about it, the dress was gorgeous, magical almost.

Yeonjun eyed the way you looked at the dress with admiration in your doe eyes.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeonjun, it's literally the most beautiful dress I've ever laid my eyes on."

Your best friend smiled surprised at your lovesick expression. He had never seen you this mesmerized by a piece of clothing. You must have really liked it.

"You should try it on! Let's go inside."

You tore your eyes from the dress to look at Yeonjun with an unsure expression on your face. "You think so? I'm not sure it would look good on my body. I mean the mannequin is so much thin-"

"Hush," Yeonjun interrupted you with furrowed eyebrows. "No one would rock this dress better than you. Let's go try it on."

A warm feeling bubbled up in your heart and you scrunched your nose as you looked at Yeonjun with a smile on your face. Your best friend could be sweet sometimes.

Yeonjun felt his eyes soften at the sight before grabbing your hand. "Come on."

"Wait." You pulled him back, keeping your hand in his, and looked for the price tag.

"I don't know what the dress costs yet-" your sentence got interrupted by the laugh escaping your mouth when you saw the small price tag.

Yeonjun let out a confused noise at your sudden outburst.

"Yeah, no, forget this ever happened. Let's get ice cream, Jun," you chuckled and pulled him with you, away from the boutique.

"What, why?" He stopped you and looked at the price tag before wincing, realizing how much money this was for you.

But you liked the dress so much...

"Aw, come on, Y/n. I've never seen you this stunned by a dress. Just try it on, maybe it's worth the money-"

You smiled but Yeonjun knew it wasn't genuine.

"No, it's okay, Jun. I can live without that dress. Plus, I'm still saving money for that car for my mom, remember? I shouldn't be buying new clothes at all right now."

Yeonjun looked at you with an unsatisfied furrow in his eyebrows but you instead raised yours at him in a reassuring way, a smile on your lips.

"I promise, it's not a big deal, dude. Let's get ice cream." You tugged softly at Yeonjun's hand, making him let out a disappointed sigh.

"Alright."

The two of you started walking to the ice cream shop and you quickly began conversing about another subject, trying to mask your disappointment. But your voice faded to the background of Yeonjun's mind because the only thing he could concentrate on was the dress. You worked so hard and barely ever treated yourself the way you deserved to be treated. He hated it.

Yeonjun looked back over his shoulder to the boutique and shook his head.

You had to have that dress.

PRESENT

A smile colored your red pained lips as you thought about your best friend. Even with all the teasing and mocking, in your eyes, he would always be the kindest person in the universe. There was no one who believed in you the way he did, who appreciated you and made you feel loved the way he could.

Even your ex-boyfriend had never made you feel as beautiful as Yeonjun made you feel every single day.

You felt tears start brimming in your eyes at the overwhelming love for Yeonjun that rushed through your veins and heart. But you could not ruin your makeup after having spent thirty whole minutes on it and quickly blinked the tears away. Yeonjun would probably have laughed at you if he knew you were about to start crying over him and the thought of this immediately made the tears dry up.

You went downstairs to put on your heels and just when you were done tying the straps around your legs, the doorbell rang.

Letting out a breath, you glanced at yourself in the mirror one more time before unlocking the door.

Yeonjun looked up from his phone to greet you, but the moment his eyes fell on you, the words died in his throat and the bouquet of flowers almost fell from his hand.

He looked at you with his mouth ajar and even if he tried to, he couldn't stop himself from scanning you from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the parts of the dress that hugged your body beautifully.

You suddenly felt self-conscious and looked down at your dress. You knew it looked better on the mannequin. Of course, it wouldn't look on you the way Yeonjun imagined-

Your thoughts got interrupted when Yeonjun spoke up.

"You," he breathed, "are going to give me a heart attack one day." His voice sounded so calm and serious, it made you let out a giggle. And just like that, your nerves and insecurities left your system. Yeonjun was the only one who could do that to you; make your heart both accelerate and calm down in a span of ten seconds.

"Good evening to you, too," you grinned before taking the flowers Yeonjun handed you without taking his eyes off you. "And, thank you."

You couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips with every word leaving your mouth.

"You will definitely give a lot of people a heart attack as well tonight, don't worry," you then stated, eyeing him as you smelled the flowers—your favorite ones.

Yeonjun looked down with a close-mouthed smile on his lips and a heart that was beating twice as fast. For some reason, he didn't care about other people. He cared about you. Your reaction. Your opinion. That was the only thing on his mind when his stylist was dolling him up. That was the only reason he asked his hairdresser to not cut his hair and keep it long instead. The way you liked it.

"You didn't cut your hair." You pointed at his hair as if having read his thoughts.

This made Yeonjun instantly look up with a hopeful glow in his eyes.

"I love it," you mumbled.

“Yeah?” He replied a tad too quickly.

Your eyes flickered from his hair to his own and you chuckled at the eagerness in his voice.

“Yeah.”

He let out a sheepish laugh, realizing he sounded a little too desperate, and quickly looked down at the Rolex on his wrist. "W-We're going to be late. Let's go."

Your eyes followed his eyes but instead of looking at the watch, you couldn't help but let your gaze linger on his veiny hand for a second or two before nodding your head. "Yeah, let's go."

The atmosphere was relaxed and warm in Yeonjun's matte, black Lexus LFA as he drove to the event. But the fiddling with your rings and constant glances in the mirror to check your makeup gave away to your best friend that you were nervous.

When you were about to adjust your lipstick once more, Yeonjun spoke up.

"Yn, you literally look perfect, stop stressing out."

You immediately sat back in the red, leather seat and let out a breath. "I'm just so not used to-" you gestured at how dolled up you looked, referring to the expensive dress in particular, "-all of this. I'm scared I'll embarrass you, dude."

Yeonjun frowned as he glanced at you.

"With the way you look right now, I promise, there's nothing in this world you could do tonight to embarrass me, love."

Your cheeks instantly heated up and you rolled your eyes at the pet name before quickly looking out of the window. "Oh, stop it."

"And you know what's funny?" He then asked, making you turn back to face Yeonjun with a raised, questioning eyebrow.

"Even if you had done nothing about your appearance and just rolled straight out of bed, I'd still show you off. You're just perfect like that," he shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road.

Staring at your best friend with an unbelieving smile on your lips, you shook your head slightly, feeling your heart pick up its pace.

"You sound like you're so down bad for me, Jun."

Yeonjun let out a small laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "If only you knew, Yn."

You blinked, and the expression on your face now turned into a skeptical frown. Why did he sound so sincere?

"Yeonjun, what do you mean-"

"We're here," Yeonjun interrupted you with a smile, acting completely oblivious to the tension he had created with his words. You shook your head, not wanting him to change the subject just yet, but before you could respond, your eyes caught a glimpse of the marvelous mansion on top of the hill, and your jaw dropped.

"No way," you breathed.

Yeonjun grinned, leaning back against the leather headrest and turning his head to face you as you stared at the building for a few seconds in complete silence.

"What are you thinking about, hm?"

"Just wondering many times my apartment would fit in this castle." It wasn't the only thing floating through your mind but the more seconds passed, the less confident you were to ask him what he meant to say just a few seconds before. He probably didn't mean anything serious, right?

Yeonjun let out a chuckle, slightly alleviated you had seemed to forget about the words he blurted out only a few seconds ago. Only slightly, because sometimes he wished he could just drop the bomb and watch your reaction, waiting for something that could turn out in either one, a disaster or two, the kiss he had been dreaming about for ages now.

Yeonjun immediately felt his insides grow hot at the latter idea that he knew shouldn't appear in his head, and quickly took the keys out of his car. "Let's go. Inside you'll be able to decide better how many times your apartment fits in this place."

You grinned, turning to face your best friend whose wink you were able to catch just before he exited the vehicle.

With mesmerization written all over your face, you scrutinized your surroundings as you walked beside Yeonjun through the enormous front yard.

Yeonjun felt conflicted as he glanced at you. Part of him was feeling proud, being able to impress you with all of this luxury. But another part of him, the bigger part, felt spoiled. Because while your jaw was almost touching the ground at the sight of all the luxury, he was starting to get so used to these kinds of parties that this huge house that barely could be called a house but rather a castle like you named it, did not affect him much anymore. He was starting to find luxury normal, boring almost.

Was he spoiled for preferring to be taken to an unknown downtown cafe by you than going to a five-star Michelin restaurant with his team? For preferring to be at your apartment rather than this mansion that was about two hundred times as big? For preferring all the simplicity and bliss that came with being with you instead of the riches and luxury that came with his job? Had he turned into the people he used to detest? The ungrateful kind?

In a second Yeonjun was brought back to earth when he felt a warm feeling engulf his hand. He looked down at your intertwined hands and smiled softly. A sigh of relief fell from his lips, a relief only you could give him.

It was at that moment Yeonjun realized he wasn't ungrateful. He still appreciated all the things his job got him, but the reason nothing beat the simplicity of being with you, was because of you. Nothing beat being with you.

He looked up at your face, but you weren't looking at him. You were trying to get a glimpse of the inside of the building as you reached the foyer.

"Name?" The broad, black-clothed man asked, his voice firm and cold before looking up from his notepad. When his eyes fell on Yeonjun, a smile immediately appeared on his face. "Oh! Good evening, Yeonjun."

You felt pride grow in your chest at how well-known and respected your best friend was.

"Evening," Yeonjun smiled, his voice deep.

"Brought a plus-one?" The man eyed you, and you awkwardly shifted in your spot, fearing you already looked out of place.

Yeonjun tightened his hold on your hand as he looked down at you, a proud smirk tugging at the left corner of his lips. "My one and only best friend."

You smiled as you looked up at him, and when your eyes locked, you felt your heart jump.

You didn't miss the way Yeonjun's eyes flickered from yours down to your lips for a split second before he turned back to face the guard. Why did that small action make something in your belly do a flip?

"Is it OK if we pass?" Yeonjun grinned.

"Of course." The man immediately stepped aside, the tension between you and Yeonjun almost half having distracted him from doing his job.

The exterior of the mansion had already amazed you, but nothing could've prepared you for the grandiosity that was the inside of the establishment.

The illumination coming from the large chandeliers decorating the high ceiling reflected in the shiny beige, marble floor as you walked over it. Your eyes roamed over the rich-looking people talking and laughing with each other, and your grip on Yeonjun's hand unconsciously tightened, making him give you an encouraging squeeze in return.

"You're beautiful," he whispered in your ear reassuringly and you immediately felt your cheeks heat up.

In a second, you remembered the words he had said just before you arrived, and the warmth in your cheeks spread through your entire body.

"If only you knew, Y/n."

What did he imply with that comment? Was he just being playful or was he suggesting something else, something more? And why did you still hope for the latter? Why were you still not over your feelings for him after forcing yourself to forget about them for months?

You shouldn't be feeling this way. He shouldn't be making you feel this way.

You let go of your best friend's hand.

Yeonjun frowned, feeling a small pang in his chest at the cold, vacant feeling in his hand and the change in atmosphere.

He cleared his throat, recomposing himself. "Let's go." Not waiting for your answer, he started walking to the great hall of the mansion.

You swallowed as you watched him walk away before trailing after him.

"Two Boulevardiers, please," Yeonjun ordered at the bar, not liking the wines the waiters were offering the guests.

"Sounds fancy. Are the wines too cheap?" You joked, trying to lighten the tense air but to your dismay, it sounded clumsier than you hoped it would. He rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips before handing you the glass of what was a fancier version of Negroni and you let out a small sigh of relief at the sight of his smile.

Perhaps nothing was going on. Perhaps you were just overthinking every single move right now after what he told you in the car.

You smelled the drink and squinted your eyes. "Damn, this stuff is strong, isn't it?"

"It's good," Yeonjun responded before downing the drink at once.

You looked at your friend as he sniffled and ran a hand through his hair. The way he downed the drink made you almost believe he was making an effort to get tipsy quickly (not that it would work with just one drink), and you couldn't help but slightly frown. No, telling yourself nothing was going on would be lying.

You frowned. "Wait, how are you going to drive back home?" You asked, not tasting the beverage yet.

"Calling a taxi," he responded, not looking at you.

"What about your car? You're just going to leave it here?"

"I'll ask one of my managers to get it for me."

"Oh." You slowly nodded, an embarrassed chuckle leaving your lips as you averted your eyes to the floor. You almost forgot just how rich your best friend was.

Finally, you took a sip of the drink and scrunched your face at the feeling of the alcohol burning your throat, making Yeonjun's eyes shift to you. He couldn't help but smile. You had always been bad with alcohol.

"You okay?" He asked and this made you down the entire drink before turning to face him.

"I am okay. Are you, though?"

Yeonjun swallowed, his nose and cheeks slightly red due to the alcohol, and he looked away. "Yeah, I'm fine."

You knew he realized you were hinting at the tense air between you two but he seemed to ignore it.

However, as you examined the somber glint in Yeonjun's eyes, your best friend instinct won from whatever you were feeling at that moment and you slipped your hand in his before slightly squeezing it.

"Are you really okay, Jun? Are we okay?" You asked, forcing him to look you in the eyes as you slightly tugged at his hand.

His eyes locked with yours and they immediately softened. He gave you a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Everything is okay, love."

The answer didn't free you of the unexplainable feeling pressing onto your chest but you just nodded. You didn't know what answer you were looking for, anyways.

"I hope you don't hate the party that much. I know you didn't exactly want to come," Yeonjun quickly joked and you let out a breathy chuckle.

"It's fine, I am actually quite impressed. Never seen this many good-looking people in one place."

Yeonjun let out a laugh and you couldn't help but laugh too. To your relief, the weight on your chest lost a few pounds.

"Come on, let me introduce you to some people," Yeonjun smiled and you quickly nodded before following him toward a group of well-dressed men and women surrounding a tall but small and round table.

A blond-haired woman you quickly recognized as the model Yeonjun did the Vogue shoot with —Lana—came up to Yeonjun and pulled him into an embrace. Your eyes flickered to the way his hands were positioned on her tiny waist before shifting to the smile on her face that was caused by something Yeonjun whispered in her ear.

You forced yourself to look away, swallowing whatever feeling had crept up on you at the sight— at the remembrance of the fact you were no one but a best friend to Yeonjun, one who did not belong in a place like this.

"Guys, this is Yn—my plus one for tonight." Yeonjun's voice and all the attention your way made you look up with wide eyes before you broke into an embarrassed chuckle.

"Hi, I'm Yn," you smiled clumsily, and to your relief, you received kind smiles from Yeonjun's friends.

"Hi, I am Lana!" The tall model chimed in, holding out her hand for you to shake. You smiled and took her hand but your eyes shifted to Yeonjun for a split second with a confused arch in your eyebrow only to find him catching your look with the same expression on his face.

"You already met her during the Vogue shoot, remember?" Yeonjun asked, scratching the back of his neck, something you knew he only did when he was either nervous or ashamed.

You quickly nudged your best friend's arm and painted a wide smile on your lips.

"Give her a break. She must've forgotten, it was such a busy day. Plus, I'm just one of the many people behind the camera, not very striking," you chuckled and the confused expression on Lana's face morphed into a bright one.

"Yeah, it really was such a busy day, right?" She gasped before going into detail to the people around her about just how long her schedule was that day.

Yeonjun knew you reacted to Lana this way to reassure him and that only made everything worse. He believed you were more than striking, and he hated how Lana made you feel like you were invisible to people like her—like him.

As you listened to the conversation between Lana and another woman who you just learned was called Minhee, you felt Yeonjun's hand find yours below the table and give it a small squeeze, making you look up at him.

‘I’m sorry’ was what he mouthed and you quickly shook your head, scrunching your nose and giving him a funny smile.

‘Don't worry about it, nothing deep’ you mouthed back, nudging his shoulder softly before looking straight ahead again.

He lowered his head and your heart leaped when his warm breath hit your skin as he whispered “love you” in your ear, keeping his face so neutral, people around you might as well believed he mentioned something about the weather to you.

You turned your head and your breath almost hitched in your throat at the proximity between your faces. "Love you too," you whispered, your voice almost inaudible, before you turned away from him. But not without noticing the way Yeonjun's eyes flickered to your lips for the second time tonight.

After having talked to most of Yeonjun's friends, you came to the conclusion they weren't as stuck up or out of touch with reality as you secretly expected them to be.

Particularly a guy named Lee Minho, who wasn't exactly a friend of Yeonjun but a friend of a friend.

"So how long have you been doing photography? I've seen some of your work and I do think it is very much striking,” the brown-haired man said as he leaned his elbow on the table and let his chin rest in his hand, a small smirk dancing on his lips.

You couldn't help but beam at the fact he was showing interest in your profession. You were so surprised he had seen your work that you didn't even notice the up-and-down look he gave you. Yeonjun did, though.

Just when you were going to answer him, Yeonjun beat you to it: "She's been photographing everything she finds interesting for as long as I can remember. Back when we were like ten years old, I would constantly lose her because she'd pause somewhere to take a picture of our surroundings with the camera my mom gifted her."

Both you and Minho shifted your attention to Yeonjun who looked at you with a sweet smile before glancing at Minho for a split second with the same smile on his lips but a completely different expression in his eyes.

You cleared your throat before nodding, "Y-yeah, like Yeonjun just said, I've been into photography since I was a kid. It turned from a hobby to a profession when I started majoring in photography in University."

Your eyes lingered on Yeonjun when you spoke the words before you averted your attention back to Minho.

"Thank you, by the way," you timidly smiled. "What about you, how did you get into modeling?" You then asked Minho, not missing the look the brown-haired man gave Yeonjun before he turned to you, a bright smile replacing the expression on his face.

"I was scouted actually! I never thought I had the potential to be a model until a middle-aged woman came up to me and asked me if I was interested in dropping by the modeling agency," he responded and you raised your eyebrows, mouthing a small 'wow'.

"I thought I was being scammed at first, though."

This comment earned a heartfelt laugh from you, making him chuckle too.

You felt Yeonjun's stare burn into the side of your face and when you looked up, your senses were confirmed. Your eyes met his and he instantly looked away, a vague expression of disappointment flashing through his dark eyes.

You frowned before turning back to Minho.

Why didn't Yeonjun seem glad you were getting along with the people here and were actually having a good time? Wasn't that what he wanted? God, the air between you and your best friend was so peculiar the whole evening.

After a few minutes of you chatting with Minho, you felt a nudge against your arm, making you turn to the side.

"Hey, Yn, want to dance?" Yeonjun asked, the corners of his lips twitching into an almost timid smile, and he gestured at the people slow dancing on the dance floor now that a fitting song started playing from the speakers. Your heart made a small jump and you were just about to nod your head when you remembered Minho's proposition of a minute ago.

You offered Yeonjun an apologetic smile before turning to Minho. "Minho actually just offered to give me a tour through the mansion. I'm sorry."

Although the smile stayed on his plump lips, the rest of Yeonjun's face seemed to fall, his eyes losing the excited glint in them.

His Adams Apple bobbed up and down before he nodded. "Oh, yeah, sure. Don't worry about it."

He glanced at Minho before dropping his eyes and excusing himself from you two, leaving you behind with an uneasy feeling in your chest as you watched him walk off.

"Let's go?"

Minho's voice pulled you away from your thoughts that were Yeonjun-shaped, and you cleared your throat before nodding and following Minho.

"Another Boulevardier?"

Yeonjun looked up from his hands to the man behind the bar counter before slowly shaking his head.

"A water is fine."

Drinking his pain away now would be easy, too easy. You deserved more than that. You deserved to be felt. So that was what Yeonjun was doing now.

He was letting himself feel the love he held for you, and the pain it caused him.

His gaze was focused on the glass of crystal clear water in front of him, tapping his index finger against it softly, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. Your sharp eyes that would turn big and innocent when Yeonjun stepped close to the line that separated friendship from being more. Your soft looking lips that Yeonjun dreamed to not just feel against his cheek once in a while, but against his own lips—and not just once in a while. All he could see was your bright smile and all he could hear was your heartfelt laughter.

A smile crept upon Yeonjun's face, one that did not reach his eyes. He needed you more than he ever thought he did.

A new presence beside Yeonjun made him look up.

"Hey, Soob."

"Where's Yn?" Soobin asked, coming straight to the point.

Yeonjun averted his eyes back to the glass of water. "Somewhere with Minho."

"You've got to tell her, Yeonjun."

The outer ends of Yeonjun's eyebrows drooped and he bit his lower lip. "And do what? Ruin our friendship and lose her? I'd rather die, Soobin."

Soobin sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Bro, listen to me, okay?"

Yeonjun glanced at his friend for a second, letting him know he was paying attention.

"I know I don't know Yn that well personally, but I would have to be blind to not notice the way she looks at you, I can't believe you don't see it."

Yeonjun frowned, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. "That's how she looks at everyone."

Soobin chuckled. "We both know you're lying. You know you're the only one she looks at that way."

Yeonjun's heart sped up and he hated himself for allowing the balloon of hope to inflate in his chest.

"Do you think it could mean something?" He asked carefully.

"Yeonjun, I don't think it does, I know it does."

Yeonjun looked at Soobin with furrowed eyebrows, his mind going all places. "Should I tell her?"

"If Minho hasn't already, then yes."

Yeonjun's eyes widened and for a second he was frozen in place. Minho. With the way the man was looking at you tonight, it would be no surprise he was going to ask you out, or maybe already had.

Yeonjun could not let that happen. He could not let his last bit of hope disappear in thin air.

"I have to find her," Yeonjun breathed and almost tripped as he jumped off the bar chair. "Thanks, Soob."

Pushing through the crowd of people, Yeonjun made it to the staircase and he skipped multiple steps to save time.

With his heart beating in his throat and his breathing rapid, he ran from room to room only to find every single of them empty, not a sight of you or Minho. God, why was this mansion so unnecessarily huge?

Two girls walked past Yeonjun and he quickly recognized them from a past event.

"Hey, did any of you see Minho perhaps?"

The girls halted their steps. "Yeah, he's in the art room. The one with all the paintings and sculptures," the girl on the left replied and the other added: "It's at the end of the hall, to your right."

"Was he with a girl?"

The girls nodded and the one on the right sighed. "Yep, and I wish I was her. He seemed to be very into her."

Yeonjun's eyes widened in horror. "A-alright. Thanks." And with that, he dashed off.

When he got closer to the room, he started hearing muffled sounds of two people talking and he quickly recognized your voice.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a second or two. It was now or never, he told himself before walking to the entrance of the room.

But just when he was going to enter, his eyes fell on a sight he had often imagined in his head. The only difference was just that in his head it was him standing in front of you. It was him pulling you closer, pushing your hair out of your face, and lifting your chin. In his dreams it was him.

But in real life it was Minho.

Yeonjun's body deflated, his shoulder slumping and his face falling.

He was too late. He was too late and it was his own fault. He had wasted the seas of time he had to let you know what was living in his heart.

But just him understanding he was the one to blame wasn’t making the knife in his chest wound him any less.

Tears filled his eyes as he watched Minho slowly close the gap between you and him. Yeonjun took a few steps back before looking away, not being able to handle seeing him kiss you.

Without looking back once, he walked off, leaving you unaware of his feelings once again.

Minho softly tugged at your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your eyes roamed over everything in the room except for the man in front of you.

The rhythm of your heartbeat was unsteady and when you finally dared to look up in Minho's eyes, the unfamiliarity of them told you your heart wasn't racing in a pleasant or exciting way. You were nervous and stressed—uncomfortable.

Minho was perfect. Kind, attractive, and most importantly, into you.

But he wasn’t the person who made you feel the safest, happiest and most appreciated girl in the world. He wasn’t your best friend whom you had been in love with for over two years. He wasn’t the one for you.

He wasn’t Yeonjun.

"I-I'm sorry," you muttered and pushed yourself away from him just before he could close the space between you two entirely.

Minho instantly took a step back, his eyes averting from you, and his lips curving into an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, I thought you-" he raked a hand through his brown, silky hair, "never mind, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uneasy-"

You raised your hands and quickly shook your head. "No! No, no, you didn't do anything against my will. It's just that…”" You halted and looked away from Minho, the floor suddenly becoming the most fascinating thing to examine.

"It's just that...?"

You understood that Minho deserved an answer and thus you collected all the courage inside of you and turned your head to face him.

"I think I am already in love with someone else. And although I tried to deny my feelings and refuse any possibility of them existing, it's not fair to him or you or anyone else to pretend like I'm ready to move on when I'm not."

Surprisingly, a small weight lifted itself from your shoulders the moment you admitted out loud that you were in love—in love with your best friend. You were tired of lying to yourself and everyone around you. But most importantly you were tired of lying to Yeonjun.

And just like that, you knew you had to tell Yeonjun what you truly felt for him.

Minho slowly nodded. "It's Choi, isn't it?"

Your widened eyes answered Minho's question and a disappointed chuckle escaped his lips.

"And I hoped I was wrong when I sensed something between you two just half an hour ago," he smiled and you returned the gesture, an apology painting the outlines of your lips.

"I'm sorry," you repeated and he shook his head.

"Don't be sorry, we don't choose whom we fall in love with, do we?" He reassured you and you let out a shaky laugh.

"We don't."

Minho gave you a kind smile before gesturing at the door. "Well, I guess you better go and find him then?"

You blinked a few times before slowly nodding. "Thank you, Minho."

Although part of you felt bad for leaving Minho like this, the larger part of you couldn't wait to finally open your heart for Yeonjun and confess to him all that was inside of it. You were finally ready.

The heels you were wearing were making it difficult for you to rush your way down the stairs, but after almost tripping twice, the ground level was finally back beneath your feet.

Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out your best friend in the crowd of people. Usually, you were able to find him relatively quickly because of his height, but this was an event a lot of models attended, which meant he wasn't the only tall person anymore.

You were about to grab your phone from your purse when a familiar face caught your eyes, making them light up as if they had just witnessed a fallen star. Yeonjun was making his way to the balcony it seemed.

You pushed through the crowd, mumbling clumsy excuse me's and I'm sorry's to get to your best friend. But the moment you were getting closer, you noticed he was holding two drinks in his hands.

You frowned in puzzlement. Was he looking for you or...?

You halted in your steps.

He wasn't alone on the balcony. And the drink was surely not for you.

Lana took the drink from his hand with a seductive smile on her lips and took a sip of it without breaking eye contact with Yeonjun.

With wide eyes, you watched the way Lana took Yeonjun's drink and placed both glasses on the table beside them before positioning her hands on his chest. Yeonjun's eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips, and when he took a step closer to her and she whispered something in his ear, you felt nausea bubble up inside of you. Please, don't.

Unfortunately, he could not hear your silent prayers, and the next second, he had her pressed up against the wall with his lips on hers.

You didn't even notice you were holding your breath until you were running out of oxygen and a staggering exhale escaped your red-painted lips.

Taking a shaky step back, you shook your head in disbelief before forcing yourself to turn around.

You bit your trembling lower lip and desperately tried blinking away the tears pooling in your eyes. You could not be seen crying at this event.

You tried to make your way to the exit but a voice calling out your name caused you to halt in your steps.

After quickly wiping your eyes, you spun on your heels and landed face to face with Soobin, whom you knew was Yeonjun's close friend.

"Soobin, hi!" Your attempt to sound cheerful was pathetic, to say the least.

"Hey, Yeonjun was looking for you- is everything okay?" He frowned worriedly when he noticed your glossy eyes.

A strangled noise escaped your throat at the mention of Yeonjun looking for you before you hastily nodded. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. What do you mean Yeonjun was looking for me?"

"Yeah, he wanted to talk to you about-" Soobin quickly cut himself off, remembering Yeonjun should be the one to tell you.

"About what?" You questioned, the corners of your lips being pulled downwards as you fought the lump in your throat.

Soobin shook his head. "Y-you should go to him. I think it's important."

This time it was your turn to shake your head. "I don't think whatever he wanted to talk to me about was that important."

The black-haired man in front of you furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What? Why?"

You looked to the side before nodding at the sight of Yeonjun and Lana on the balcony. "Because he's busy."

Soobin followed your stare and when he saw what you were talking about, his jaw fell open and almost reached the floor.

"What the hell," he whispered to himself in disbelief.

"Hey, I am going to call a taxi to go home, okay? I'm not feeling all too well. Can you let Yeonjun know?" You asked Soobin as you took a step back.

"Yn, wait, I think Yeonjun doesn't want you to leave without him. You know he always needs to know you're home safe before he can relax."

It was true. Yeonjun was the most protective person you knew, especially over you. And you hated the way your heart warmed at the recollection of that.

"I don't want to... bother him right now. It's alright, he won't know I'm gone until I'm home, probably. Good night, Soob," you answered with a kind smile that didn't reach your eyes, and Soobin's shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn't believe what was happening.

Just before you started making your way to the exit, you turned around once again. "Oh, and can you tell Yeonjun I had a good night? And that I hope he does too?"

Just because your heart was shattered in pieces because of him didn't mean he didn't still deserve to have a good night. His happiness would always matter most to you.

Soobin's eyes softened and he let out a sigh. "I will. Good night, Yn."

You tightened the leather coat around your body as the chilly night breeze hit your bare legs. Grabbing your phone from your purse, you checked the time again. Where was that cab?

Just as you were storing the device back in the black handbag, an all too familiar voice made you freeze.

Gradually you turned around and you were met with a breathless Yeonjun making his way to you, his hair slightly tousled and cheeks flushed. Any other day you'd find he looked endearing with messy hair and rosy cheeks. But right now, the state he was in was making you nauseous because you knew the reason behind it.

"Yn, what the hell, why did you suddenly leave without saying anything?" He panted, looking into your eyes with a worried and confused expression in them. "I thought we were going to hang out at your place after the event."

The expression in your eyes, on the other hand, was unreadable to him.

"I am just not really feeling well and I didn't want to bother you because you were having a good time. I told Soobin," you explained without looking at him once.

He huffed. "A good time?" If only you knew how terrible of a time he had after finding you with Minho.

The confused arch in your eyebrows at his remark made him shake his head as if to wipe away the comment before he continued talking. "You should've texted me. I don't want you taking cabs alone at night. Just tell me what's wrong, please."

You sighed. Could he stop being a gentleman for once and not make things harder for you?

"God, there's nothing wrong. Plus, I am a grown woman. I'll survive," you muttered, feeling a ball of frustration start growing inside of you. With him, with yourself—with everything.

"Come on, Yn, at least be brave enough to look me in the eyes when you're lying to me. Why did you leave?"

Sometimes you wished he couldn't read you so effortlessly. But after having been best friends for fifteen years, that was an impossible wish to fulfill. Because after all these years spent together, you were as transparent as glass to him.

Yeonjun knew you better than anyone else. From what your favorite animal was to what events in your childhood led you to become the individual you were today.

Yeonjun knew you through and through.

Except, when it came to your feelings for him. To that, he was completely and utterly blind. Or maybe, just too insecure—not confident enough to consider that maybe, just maybe, you held the exact same feelings he held for you.

You sighed in annoyance and tightened the grip on your purse.

A presumption seemed to flash through Yeonjun's mind because suddenly it was as if something in his eyes shifted and his chest heaved.

"Yn, did Minho do anything to you? Because if he did-"

Your head jerked up, a horrified expression covering your face. "Oh my God, no! No, not at all."

Yeonjun's nostrils flared and his eyes were wild as he raked a hand through his hair. "Yn, I swear-"

You seized his other hand and pulled it to obtain his attention. "Yeonjun, he didn't do anything. I promise. Now calm the hell down."

With stern eyes, you held contact with his dark ones and slowly they seemed to soften. Your best friend finally appeared to believe your words and the veins in his neck relaxed as he released a ragged breath that held a sense of relief.

"Okay, good." He nodded his head a few times as if trying to calm himself down from the thought that had his insides burning with fury. "Good."

You nodded too and a short silence fell over the two of you before it got interrupted by the sound of an engine.

"There's the cab. I'll see you later, okay?" You muttered before turning around to make your way to the vehicle.

"I'm coming with you."

"Oh my God, Yeonjun, I told you, you don't have to-"

"Just get in the car, Yn," he replied and the sternness that engulfed his usual soft voice made you bite back a response and instead enter the car in silence with Yeonjun following you.

The silence in the taxi was thick and the tension was nearly suffocating.

Glancing at Yeonjun, you found him looking out of the window with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw.

You didn't blame him for being angry with you. You were acting irrationally and unfairly—punishing someone for breaking your heart when they weren't even aware of doing so in the first place wasn’t reasonable, you knew that. But still, you couldn't find the strength to pull yourself together and apologize to Yeonjun. And suddenly, telling him the truth seemed like the scariest thing you could do now after seeing him all over Lana.

Nausea bubbled up in your stomach once again at the memory. Your Yeonjun, kissing another woman.

Your Yeonjun who was free to date whoever he wanted. Your Yeonjun who didn't owe you anything because you had never found the courage, to be honest with him.

Your Yeonjun, who wasn't yours.

You turned to look out of the window, trying to scoot as close to the car door as possible. Away from him.

Now it was Yeonjun's turn to peek at you and when he saw your smaller figure in the corner of the car, he suddenly had to fight back the tears burning his eyes.

Touching his lips with his fingers, he felt sick with himself. Sick and guilty at the memory of kissing a woman that wasn't you. A woman he felt nothing for.

Why did it feel like he betrayed you?

He wasn't yours and you weren't his, and still, he felt ashamed. Ashamed because instead of mourning the fact he would never get the opportunity to call you his lover, he let his weakness win and went to find himself a distraction to try and forget about you when you were worth so much more than being forgotten—even for one evening.

His gaze slowly wandered over your frame and he had to bite the inside of his lower lip to stop it from trembling as the tears threatened to fall from his pained eyes.

God, why weren't you his? What was wrong with him for you to not be able to love him as anything more than a friend?

Yeonjun finally tore his eyes off you and quickly wiped away the one tear that managed to escape as subtly as possible.

But you noticed. Of course, you did.

And you suddenly felt extremely sick with yourself. You were putting Yeonjun through something he didn't deserve.

With sad eyes, you looked up at Yeonjun and when you noticed the glossy layer on his eyes, your heart dropped like the flowers from a broken lover's hands.

You had to tell him the truth.

After what felt like an eternity, the cab arrived at your place.

You nervously smoothened your dress. "Won't your management mind you left without any security?" You were aware you were procrastinating telling him the real issue.

Your best friend's shoulders tensed up for a second at the sound of your voice before he shrugged them. "It's not the first time."

You nodded. That was true.

Yeonjun luckily was permitted to go out without bodyguards or any other type of security on regular days, but when it came to events that were known to the general public such as this one, he would usually be accompanied by at least one escort.

But Yeonjun was like a rebellious teenager sometimes—running from his own security so he could flee an event early and make his way to your apartment.

"I'm sorry you..." you cleared your throat, "…had to leave earlier because of me." You were truly sorry. Because although you didn't ask him to do so, you knew Yeonjun would never let you go on your own. So when you decided to leave the event, you were aware of the possibility Yeonjun would find out and leave too. You just hadn't cared. But now as you look at your best friend, the disappointed glint in his eyes and the defeated arch in his eyebrows, you felt guilty. He technically had done nothing wrong, and you ruined his night.

"I'm really sorry," you repeated, your voice barely above a vulnerable whisper.

He nodded and you took a deep breath, collecting every inch of courage in your body. This was it. All the months you dreamt about him, hoped to one day be more than just friends, wished you could call him yours. All the secrets. You were going to confess them to him now.

"Yn?"

Your words died before leaving your mouth.

He looked up at you after calling your name and your heart skipped a beat when his dark, familiar eyes bored into yours.

"Are we... Are we okay?"

You blinked a few times and you had to fight the wave of tears that was about to break the dam behind your eyes. No, I am not okay and I was just going to tell you why, you thought.

With your lips parted and eyes widened, you stared at him.

Uncountable emotions fled through your body in that one moment looking at Yeonjun.

But there was one that stood out the most, one that you had always felt for your best friend, even before you grew to have romantic feelings for him: love.

Unconditional and genuine love.

Pieces of core memories you shared with him flashed in front of your eyes for a split second, and you remembered once again just how much he meant to you. How much his happiness mattered to you.

And if Lana was the one making him happy now, you did not want to come in between that.

Hiding your feelings for Yeonjun for so many months but suddenly dumping them on him the day he kissed someone else was not fair to both Yeonjun or Lana.

Slowly your face softened and a small but sincere smile colored your lips.

"We will always be okay, Jun. Whatever happens."

He was your best friend, and you'd rather die than live a life without him in it.

Yeonjun released a breath he didn't know he was holding until you answered.

A weak smile gradually grew on Yeonjun's face before he nodded his head. You were right. Whatever happened, it would always be you and him. Even if it broke his heart to know it would just be as best friends.

"Yn, wait."

You raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You were going to tell me something just a second ago, weren't you? I feel like I interrupted you," he asked frowning.

You swallowed, almost amazed at how well he could read you, before sighing and shaking your head. "No, I wasn't saying anything. It probably just seemed like it."

He slightly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Are... Are you sure?" He leaned in and took your hand in his, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"You can tell me anything, remember?" He gave you a gentle smile as if to remind you it was your best friend you were talking to. The person you had known since you were only eight years old.

And you were so close. So close to spilling all your secrets to him.

Just not close enough.

Smiling, you squeezed his hand before letting go of it. "I just got a little anxious at the event. I'm sorry I acted off to you because of it. You didn't do anything wrong." 

Yeonjun's shoulders sagged but it seemed to be out of defeat rather than relief, and the sight of it made you wonder how convincing you sounded.

"I think I should go now, the driver must be tired of waiting for us."

The driver isn’t the only one then, Yeonjun thought.

"Let's watch Friends another time okay?"

Yeonjun nodded, his face deprived of emotion.

"I owe you!" You tried to sound cheerful before closing the car door and making your way to the entrance of your apartment complex.

With the sight of Yeonjun's defeated eyes engraved in your mind, you walked away from him. The bigger the distance grew between you and the car, the more you started falling apart, and you wondered if Yeonjun could tell.

Usually, when people bid each other goodnight, they would go to bed, close their eyes and fall asleep.

But it was now two in the morning and you, on the other hand, were wide awake, sitting on the couch in your living room with a cup of tea in your hand, hoping sleep would take over you soon.

After getting home, you had changed into your pajamas which consisted of a fitting long sleeve shirt and sweats, the usual clothes you'd wear whenever you would hang out with Yeonjun. When that thought had appeared in your mind as you were putting the shirt on, you almost wanted to throw it back into your closet and dress into a different top.

But you fought the feeling. You were not going to push away your best friend or the idea of him just because he happened to break your heart with every word or glance he offered you. It wasn't his fault he had the power to do so. It wasn't his fault he was so perfectly what you wanted in a lover that it made you want to scream into a pillow or cry yourself to sleep because he wasn't the one beside you, cuddling you.

It wasn't his fault.

Sighing, you slouched back into the couch and stared at the heels in the corridor you hadn't bothered putting back on the shelf.

Your eyes averted to the door and to your dismay pieces of memories began passing by in your mind.

When Yeonjun had showed up at seven in the morning on a Sunday because a new part of your favorite movie had gotten announced while you were still asleep. When the two of you stumbled in, weak from laughter and the two (or three) glasses of wine you had on a night out at your favorite restaurant. When Yeonjun left his job mid-photoshoot because you had accidentally locked yourself out at ten in the morning after a run and he was the only one who had spare keys to your apartment. When he showed up at three in the morning to hold you tight because you had found out your ex-boyfriend was cheating on you.

You softly smiled. That door held an overflowing amount of memories.

You were so deep in thought, that the loud buzz sounding through your apartment caused you to jump up from the couch and the inner corners of your eyebrows to pull together in suspicion.

"Yn? It's me. I know you're not sleeping yet."

The familiarity of the voice that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun made you release a relieved sigh and your shoulders relax for a second until a new balloon of anxiety grew in your chest. What was he doing here?

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for whatever feelings would strike you the moment you'd see him again before you finally made your way through the corridor to the door.   

When you opened the door, your heart instantly weakened. Yeonjun stood in the dim hall of the apartment complex with tousled hair, grey sweats, a black hoodie, and his favorite (now beat up) black Converse All-Stars.

His shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of your wide-awake state. Although he had known you weren't sleeping by the fact his texts were being delivered to your phone which wouldn't have been possible if you were sleeping since you never forgot to put your phone on airplane mode the moment you'd close your eyes, he was still relieved you opened the door.

You glanced at the clock on the wall beside the door before shifting your gaze back to Yeonjun.

"A little early for a morning run, isn't it?"

The smile on your lips was deprived of authenticity and it didn't reach your eyes as your words interrupted the quiet night atmosphere.

Yeonjun's stare was intense as he watched you and you physically felt the air between you thicken.

"Yn, I need you to be honest with me."

He decided to come straight to the point.

Your shoulders slumped because you knew you needed to. You knew you needed to be honest with him. You just couldn't.

"I-" he swallowed and raked a hand through his raven hair as he looked around, searching for the right words, "there is something up between us and I know you were going to tell me about it back in the cab. We both know you acting this way and the air between us this entire night was much more than you just feeling a little unwell."

He knew you so terribly well.

Guilt was eating you up but unfortunately for Yeonjun, anxiety was fighting it. And the latter was winning.

"It is nothing, Yeonjun, really. You shouldn't have come all the way here. Why didn't you text me-"

"I did text you! Can you just stop lying to me and tell me what the hell is up with you because I've known you for longer than a day and I know some-"

Yeonjun's raised voice faded to the background as memories of Lana's hands and lips on him reappeared in your mind and suddenly it was like a frustrated balloon of anger popped in your chest, blowing away all the other emotions swimming through your body. Emotions such as guilt, heartbreak, and shame. All of them were silent for just a second. And that second was enough for you to let your guard down. Enough for you to break down and fall apart, right in front of him. So with a raised voice and an open heart you ultimately confessed.

"Yeonjun, don't you see? I'm in love with you!"

The man in front of you froze in place, halting his sentence. With wide eyes he watched you continue your outburst of a confession.

"I've been in love with you for too long now and I am so incredibly embarrassed because I know you are my best friend, and I hate myself for not being able to view you as just that," you sniffed and ran a shaky hand through your hair, "I hate myself for feeling sick and angry and hopeless about you having something with Lana. I hate you for being so lovable, for making me fall in love with you without reciprocating my feelings. But you know what I hate most of all?" You let out a humorless chuckle and shook your head. "What I hate most of all is that I can never hate you at all."

Yeonjun listened to your sentences carefully, and every word that entered his ears made his heartbeat pick up its pace. The shocked frown on his lips was slowly but surely being replaced by a small, emotional smile as the realization started to hit him. You loved him. You loved him the way he loved you.

You were just as much his as he was yours.

Frustratedly, you frowned and a tear made its way out of your eye and down your flushed cheek.

"Come on. Say something, Yeonjun," you muttered, shame lacing your hoarse voice.

And Yeonjun responded. Just not in the way you expected him to. Not with words.

He took a step in your direction and his hands delicately cupped your warm cheeks before he closed his eyes and captured your lips with his plush ones.

Your eyes grew in size for a second but quickly fluttered shut when his thumb softly started tracing circles on your cheek. And in that moment, time seemed to stop. Everything and everyone in the world seemed to stop, leaving just you and him on this earth.

Just you and Yeonjun.

Your hands hovered above his, not daring to touch them or the man in general because of a fear this dream would stop the moment you'd do.

After a handful of seconds, he slowly pulled away but stayed close enough for your breaths to morph into one and his hands to remain on your cheeks. Your eyes gradually moved from his lips to his own dark eyes, and your noticed his dilated pupils as he stared at you with a nervous furrow in his eyebrows. His eyes were so full of intensity and emotion, it made your knees weaken.

Now that he had given you a piece of him, you weren't sure you were ever going to be able to let go of it, of him. You needed him, more than anything.

Cupping his face, you brought it closer to yours once again and this time it was you who locked your lips together.

You quickly realized this kiss was different than the first. The first was careful, fragile. This one was full of passion and fervor as if the both of you were terrified you would wake up any second, and the moment would have been nothing but a dream. A dream the two of you had had many of before.

He kissed you with all the longing and aches he had been feeling for the past two years. Uncountable days he had had to drown himself in distractions so he wouldn't feel the lack of your presence. Even when you were there with him, he had feared that it would never be enough, that he would never get over his romantic love for you and he would never be able to get rid of the empty hole in his heart you weren't filling.

Now, he was kissing you at two in the morning, with every inch of love and passion in his body. And it was better than he had ever imagined.

You stepped back and Yeonjun followed after you into the hallway of your apartment, closing the door with his foot without taking his lips off you even for a second. His lips were so beyond soft and gentle against your own, it made your heart double in size and all the worries in your body and mind evaporate in thin air.

"I am so, so in love with you, Yeonjun," you whispered against his mouth, and Yeonjun wondered if you realized the impact such words had on him. He wondered if you knew it caused tears to pool in his eyes and his knees to weaken.

You had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. And he knew you would always be his best friend. But from now on he was also allowed to call you his lover. And he couldn't believe the universe had given him this irreplaceable gift.

He pulled away and smiled from ear to ear at you as he gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before whispering:

"I'm completely and entirely yours, Yn."

A/N: Hi, my loves! Finally, I am posting again :’) From the bottom of my heart I’m so sorry for having been so inactive the past month. I hope now that I’ve finished this fic, I got out of my writing slump and will be able to write more again. I hope you guys enjoyed Heartbreak On The Dance Floor, thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your opinions🤍 ps. big thank you to @sungbeam for having supported me the past months and for getting me through writing this fic, love you <3

the tropes! 😭 i loved each and every arch, definitely a great series for, the “coming of age” love stories 💗

growing pains : a svt 97 line smau

synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves.

pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader 

notes : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor

will probably contain : food mentions, suggestive humor / content

taglist : open ! send an ask or reply to this post <3

playlists <3

[ parts + note under the cut ]

Keep reading

spy minnie! Love love love!

007!ji changmin x f!reader

you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!

YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.

It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.

After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.

It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—

A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.

“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.

You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”

Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.

The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.

But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”

You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.

Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.

The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”

“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.

You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”

He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”

When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.

“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.

You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”

“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.

The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.

“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.

“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)

Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”

The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”

“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.

Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”

“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.

“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”

Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.

“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.

He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”

You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”

He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”

An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”

“Significant others then,” he offered.

You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”

“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”

You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”

“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.

“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.

“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”

“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.

“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”

“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”

The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.

Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.

Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.

“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.

You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”

The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.

The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”

“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”

Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.

Assistant? As if.

For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.

The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”

(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)

Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”

“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”

With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.

“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”

“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”

His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”

As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.

He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”

“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.

“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”

“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”

Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.

You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”

The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”

He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.

Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.

At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.

You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.

You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”

He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”

You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”

“Got it.”

Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.

Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.

You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.

The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)

It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.

Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”

“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”

Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.

A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.

Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.

You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”

Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.

Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.

When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.

He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”

There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.

The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.

You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.

The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.

Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.

“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.

Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.

You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.

As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.

When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”

“Right away, sir.”

You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.

The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”

With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.

From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”

You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”

“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”

“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”

He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”

“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”

You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.

Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.

“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”

You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”

“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.

His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”

A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.

When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.

Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.

You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.

The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.

You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?

It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.

“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.

They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.

“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”

Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.

Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”

A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”

You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.

“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.

Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”

You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.

When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.

You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. “What now?” You asked him.

“I need more money.”

“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.

His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”

“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”

Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”

Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”

“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”

“Ji.”

Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.

You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.

Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”

“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.

Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.

Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.

After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.

You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.

You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.

“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.

Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.

You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.

You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”

“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.

Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”

“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.

You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.

You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.

You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.

“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.

As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.

But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.

They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.

“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.

Relief was short-lived.

Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.

Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.

For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.

You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.

“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.

You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.

Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.

Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.

“Yn—”

“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.

You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—

With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.

“Not so fast.”

Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.

“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”

You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.

You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—

A shot rang out.

Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.

The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.

You nearly died just then.

With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.

There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.

The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.

Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.

Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.

It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.

In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.

You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.

And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.

Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.

Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.

Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.

“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.

“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.

As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.

All that was left were Changmin's.

With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—

“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”

Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.

From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.

Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.

Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”

“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”

He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”

You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”

The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.

“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”

“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”

“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.

Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.

Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”

“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”

“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”

With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.

His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.

So loud, that you almost missed it.

You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?

There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.

“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”

A muffled response in return.

“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”

You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.

Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.

You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”

Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.

One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.

A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.

Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.

You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.

With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.

“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.

He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”

You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.

You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.

The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.

Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.

The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.

He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.

There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.

Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.

The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—

You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.

When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.

As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.

You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.

You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.

From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.

“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.

“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.

Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”

Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.

You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.

He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.

“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”

You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.

“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”

“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”

He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”

His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”

And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.

When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”

Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.

When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.

It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.

No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.

Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”

Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.

The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.

“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”

Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.

“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.

“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”

“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…

He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.

You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”

For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.

“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”

The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.

“Changmin—”

“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”

We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.

“W.”

The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.

Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”

You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.

Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.

“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”

“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.

A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”

“Giddy?”

“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.

He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.

He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.

You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.

Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet

♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

love always

CHARACTERS: lee donghyuck | nct haechan & female reader

WORD COUNT: 15.6k

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, swearing

GENRE: angst, fluff, what's wrong with secretary kim-inspired story

TAGLIST: @matchahyuck @ohmyhuenings

AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank you for reading this. i had fun writing it :) please let me know what you think about this fic!

Lee Donghyuck remains planted on the expensive swivel chair, blinking at the envelope sitting quietly on top of his desk.

The envelope screams RESIGNATION LETTER in bold print, but it’s got to be a joke, Donghyuck’s sure. There’s only one person directly reporting to him despite being the Vice-President of Client Solutions, and that is you. Anyone who wants to resign would have to address their letters to their superiors, who would need Donghyuck’s approval, which would never even land on his desk because you take care of those things for him. It would be quite impossible for anything to reach Donghyuck without it going through you.

And it’s you, for God’s sake. You would never quit on Lee Donghyuck. Not in a million years. Not in this lifetime, unfortunately.

Hence, Lee Donghyuck ignores the plain, white envelope; he reckons you would take care of it later for him. Somebody must have mistakenly placed it in his office, that no one can easily access apart from you, and it’s not like Donghyuck is scared of the thought of losing you. Anyway, if it were you, then he could just say no.

Donghyuck scoffs at the thought of your audacity leaving him after seven long years of working together, dropping a stack of files on top of the stupid letter, and makes a mental note to tell this joke to Jeno later when he joins him for dinner.

He pulls himself closer to his desk, turning away from the stack of files, and brings his focus back to his computer. His e-mails are all taken care of as usual—because all e-mails to Vice-President Lee must be addressed to both Lee Donghyuck himself and his secretary Y/N, otherwise, consider it non-existent; the golden rule in SM Tech is that, if Y/N is not copied, then it never reached Lee Donghyuck.

His entire day has been taken care of as well—you are an amazing secretary; anyone would be lucky to have you—and all he really needed to do today is review the reports coming from Operations before his big presentation to a client SM Tech has been trying to win over for years. Weishen Inc. is the most sought-after partner in the entirety of South Korea right now, and everyone and their grandmothers have been trying to get a partnership with them. It’s basically a war at this point, Donghyuck thinks, because it’s all every tech company in Seoul have been working on. And considering that Donghyuck is vying for that CEO role in the next couple of years, getting this in the bag would really help him.

Which is why it doesn’t make sense to Donghyuck that it’s you who would leave a stupid resignation letter on his desk.

You have been working with Lee Donghyuck for seven years. You were an intern, Donghyuck remembers, and Donghyuck had just gotten out of college. And being the eldest grandson of the chairman of the board, it was pretty easy for Donghyuck to land a permanent job as soon as he received his diploma. Donghyuck was introduced as a client solutions program director, with an emphasis from his grandfather that he wouldn’t get a special treatment and will work his way up just like everybody else, and you were introduced as his associate. It’s safe to say that moving up towards the leadership ladder had been easy because he had you.

Resilient and intelligent, you were everything he ever wanted. Donghyuck has been in the business far longer thant he years he spent in college; he’s seen everything as a child. Hence, Donghyuck knew what he wanted when he’s given a role, and you were everything and more.

You never complained about anything at all. Lee Donghyuck wasn’t easy to work with because well, he knows he’s a brat who gets everything in a golden platter and he is well aware of how demanding he can be. You worked beyond your supposed working hours to catch up on Donghyuck’s demands, and even went above the expectations by working on most of his reports because he had other priorities. You take care of his e-mails (there has never been a day in seven years that he opened Outlook with a single e-mail waiting for him) and get him meals daily because he never has the time. For fuck’s sake, you even take care of his stupid dates for him.

Over the years of working with him, you probably know Donghyuck like the back of your hand—even better than his best friend Jeno—and you’ve been working hard with him to reach his goal of becoming CEO in the next couple of years. You know this because you call him daepyonim when you’re tipsy from the expensive wine he makes you drink on a particularly stressful Friday night, and you never call him daepyonim. You’re one of the few people who calls him, well, Donghyuck. No honorifics, no boundaries.

So, Lee Donghyuck is sure you would never leave him.

“Donghyuck, I need you to approve this.” Speaking of the devil. “It’s a request to add more manpower in Operations. I’ve thought about it. You’ll probably decline this—I’m sure—because you would think they wouldn’t need it, but since we’re working on the new project—”

Everything else fades when he sees you enter his office: you hair is tied in a bun like always, the sleeves of your dress shirt he remembers giving you years ago are rolled up to your forearms, the redness from your lipstick is a little smudged (most likely because you keep drinking from a sports bottle and not from a glass like a normal person). You walk closer towards his desk, a folder in your hand, and as you speak, you’re snapping your fingers in his direction. Why are you snapping? Why—

Oh.

“Donghyuck?” you call, and it breaks whatever trance he was in. “I know you’re tired. But it’s Thursday, okay? Let’s get through today and tomorrow, then you can go golfing with Jeno or something.”

You gently slide the folder on his desk. “Here’s the letter of request. I just need you to sign this and I’ll be on my way.”

Donghyuck signs, trusting that you’ve read through the whole thing as always, and nods towards your direction. You thank him, and suddenly Donghyuck hears the white envelope buried under the stack of things he needs to read today scream for him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he calls. You turn with a curious look. Donghyuck clears his throat. “Somebody came to my office and accidentally left a letter without consulting you. People in the place should already know that no paper should land on my desk unless it’s cleared from yours. Can you take care of it for me?”

“I don’t remember anyone coming in today,” you trail off. “But sure, let me take care of it. Which one?”

Donghyuck gets rid of his own folders and finds the envelope, handing it to you, and you look at him as though he just cracked the funniest joke.

Chuckling, you walk back towards his desk, and Donghyuck almost sighs in relief when your hand touches the envelope. Almost, because you push it back to him instead of taking it.

“Donghyuck,” you say with a smile. “This is from me.”

Well. Fuck.

Of course, Lee Jeno is laughing at him.

“This is serious, Jeno,” Donghyuck whines quietly, careful so that you wouldn’t hear. He throws the cushion towards his best friend, who quickly dodges it. “I really think the person sitting on the desk outside my office is not Y/N. Didn’t you notice anything weird before you came in?”

“I think that you’re going crazy, man,” Jeno answers, still laughing. “It’s the same old Y/N. She told me not to bother you too much because you’re busy, just like every time I come here. I don’t think she knows what I do in this company. Doesn’t she know I’m the head of IT and Development?”

“I’m serious, man. Somebody must have abducted her and replaced her with someone as good, but I’m sure that’s not her—”

“Donghyuck-ssi­,” you call, the door slightly opened so he could only see you from your tied-up bun to the button of your nose. “I’ll be having my lunch. Let me know if you need anything; I’ll come running back.”

Donghyuck nods towards your direction, and as soon as you’re gone, he turns back to Jeno as if he just witnessed the craziest thing. “See?! That wasn’t her! She never calls me with honorifics. Why did she suddenly called me Donghyuck-ssi. Who the fuck is Donghyuck-ssi?”

“You’re literally overreacting,” Jeno comments. “She calls you with honorifics when you’re around co-workers because she doesn’t want the world thinking she doesn’t respect you.”

Of course. “Oh, yeah.”

“What happened, anyway?” Jeno asks, reaching for the gourmet burger you had ordered for them. “She seems fine to me.”

Donghyuck sighs. “She submitted a resignation letter.” Jeno almost chokes on his meal. “Unbelievable, right?”

“Holy shit, what have you done Lee Donghyuck?” Jeno asks soon as he recovers. Donghyuck shrugs, taking a piece of fries. “She’s finally had enough of you!”

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck retorts. “The fuck do you mean by she’s finally had enough of me? You wish I was your boss. I’m the best boss ever.”

Jeno laughs. Laughs out loud. And Donghyuck looks at him, exasperated.

“You’re not that dense, aren’t you?” Jeno chokes out; Donghyuck wishes he really chokes on his own laughter, stupid Jeno. “You’re not really that oblivious, right?”

“Oblivious about what, Jeno? You’re really annoying me now.”

“Oh, Lee Donghyuck,” Jeno laughs again. “I see why she’s quitting on you.”

“Who said I would let her?”

“I bet a new Lamborghini that she’s gone by the end of spring.”

“Don’t manifest shit like that!”

“Bet.”

“Bet I can make her stay.”

“Bet you can’t.”

“Fuck you.”

Donghyuck decides to cancel dinner with Jeno. Jeno is a bitch, anyway.

You’re seated beside him; his chauffer driving the two of you home. He sits uncomfortably beside you as you mindlessly scroll through your phone, unaware of the chaos you’ve created in his mine. The ride is about fifteen minutes away until you reach your apartment, which means Donghyuck has roughly fifteen minutes to get everything off his chest otherwise he won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

He reaches for the button on his side, closing the partition between the driver and the two of you. The sound alone makes you look at him, knowing that he probably has something important to say.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately as soon as the partition is closed. “Did we forget anything?”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Donghyuck asks, looking right into your eyes, because he wants you to know that he’s serious and that he’s not playing with you. “About the resignation. Because I’m not playing with you, Y/N.”

“Donghyuck,” you say in a whisper, taking both his hands and looking at him right into his eyes just like what he’s doing. You’re the only one who never gets intimidated with the way he’s looking down at you right now. “I wouldn’t joke about that kind of thing.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Did you read the letter?”

“Yes, and it’s full of bullshit.” You frown at his response. “What? It’s true? Resigning for a personal reason? Y/N, I would think you can give me a better reason.”

“It’s the truth,” you say quietly. “I have no other reason. I don’t plan to betray you by working in another company that pays better.”

“No one pays better than SM Tech,” he retorts. A fact, honestly. “And I don’t accept personal reason for resignation. I’ve never approved any resignation that says personal reason.”

“Donghyuck, I approve all resignation letters on your behalf; you haven’t approved a single resignation letter yourself in the last seven years.”

“Exactly,” Donghyuck spits. “I do not approve resignation letters. So, the answer is no.”

“Donghyuck, you can’t decline a resignation letter.”

“Watch me.”

“It’s illegal. That’s against the labor law—”

“Y/N.”

“Donghyuck, will you listen?”

“It’s final. No.”

“I’ll make my exit as smooth as possible; you won’t even notice. I’ve already put up a job vacancy online and tomorrow, I’m visiting Seoul National University with Soojung from Recruitment so we can see any potentials from the graduating classes. It’s going to be—”

“Absolutely horrendous,” Donghyuck finishes, fishing the envelope from the inside pocket of his expensive suit. “It’s final,” he says again, before doing the devil’s work.

“Donghyuck, don’t!” But it’s too late. He’s already ripped the envelope and the letter inside in half. And another half. And another one. Until it’s all torn into small pieces.

Donghyuck smiles in triumph, as if he just won a battle, and the urge to poke his tongue out is so strong that he has to remind himself that he’s still talking to an employee. He watches you sigh as you pick up the small pieces, collecting it then placing it inside your bag. You don’t say anything, and Donghyuck assumes you’ve accepted defeat. You’re not going anywhere, not in a million years, not in this lifetime. He sits back comfortably and from his peripheral view, he sees you fidgeting on your own hands—a sign that you’re upset. Well, you can be upset all you want; Donghyuck is not letting you go.

The car takes a turn into a familiar road, which means you’re two minutes away from your home. You still hadn’t said a word to him. Donghyuck is confident he’s got you wrapped around his finger. You’re not resigning. Never. Ever.

On the 25th street, right across an apartment complex, the car finally stops. You don’t say goodbye to him, but you turn to Donghyuck before leaving, saying: “You know I can print this over and over again, right?”

Which, Donghyuck hates, sounds more like a goodbye than the word itself.

Donghyuck’s known you for seven years, and when people (mostly his asshole friends who have blatantly shown interest in you) ask him what you’re like, he could say a lot of things.

The first word that comes to his mind is always kind.

When you and him were both 21, new to the company and adulthood itself, he remembers drinking with you in front of a convenience store nearby the office, right after you successfully finished your first presentation to the senior leaders. It truly deserved a celebration, that night, because it was the first time you and him had to do something big for the company. Donghyuck can’t remember much about the presentation itself or whatever feedback he received from his grandfather, but he can clearly remember how drunk you two were. He remembers taking his suit off and watching you take off yours, you and him left in your white dress shirts as you alternately take shots straight from the bottle of soju.

They say that you never truly know someone unless you see them drunk. And there you were, drunk and dazed, laughing with him about nothing at all. Donghyuck recalls an old man struggling to open the door of the convenience store and how quickly you (drunkenly) got up to help him. Donghyuck watched you enter the convenience store with the old man, later coming out, a big drunken smile on your face as you bid your goodbyes with the old man.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you had said, tears already streaming down your tears. “I love him.”

“Y/N, relax, you literally just met him,” was his response.

“He was buying something for his sick wife,” you had rambled. “But he couldn’t cook to save his life so he got something from the convenience store. Have I told you he was counting his bills when he was paying? So, I paid for him and got him a few more things to take home. I love him so much.”

“You’re cute,” he had said (drunkenly, of course, he doesn’t mean it that way. You’re his secretary, for god’s sake.)

“I’d rather be called kind,” you had answered before tipping your head back and drinking from the bottle of soju you and him are sharing. Donghyuck wasn’t sure if he heard you. “I said I’d rather be kind than cute. Or beautiful. Or whatever. I’d rather be kind than anything.”

And Donghyuck knows this is true because like he said, he has known you for seven years now. Seven years, seven years of learning what kindness is. All because of you.

Aside from the innate kindness you have, Donghyuck thinks you’re detail-oriented. And not to be that kind of person who always talks about work, but Donghyuck reckons this is exactly why you’re his favorite person in the entire world (but no one needs to know that Donghyuck thought of you as his favorite person in the world) and he believes that this is why you and him have stayed together (at work) for seven long years, because you and him are the same when it comes to your careers.

You’re far more hardworking than Donghyuck, that one he can admit. You work long hours in the office even when he’s fast asleep in his couch or wherever his body could reach as soon as he’s home, just so you can make him look good in the board the next day. Donghyuck can’t count the number of times you saved him at work (more like saved his ass from his grandfather) and most of the time, he knows you deserve more credit than you get.

After three years of working as a director, Donghyuck was promoted as Vice-President for Client Solutions, the role he’s currently in. There was a party, Donghyuck remembers, and his grandfather invited everyone their family knew. His father had to remind him to greet each of those who will attend, as they could be potential investors and partners, and Donghyuck is great, okay? He’s one of the best in his field, not only because he’s part of the Lee bloodline, but because he worked hard for it. Donghyuck is charming, above anything else, and compliant and created and an innate leader, but one thing he is, unfortunately, not good at is remembering people.

And bless you, you knew that. The day before the party, you studied the guest list and any potential plus ones they might bring, and the night of the party, you walked arm in arm with Donghyuck, whispering the names of each guests and telling him how important they are in the business. Donghyuck could have kissed you right there and there (only because he’s grateful), because nobody in the entire world would have done that for him. When he thinks about that night and imagines if you weren’t there for him, he could have screwed up all client and investor relationships SM Tech has built over the decades. But you were there, you were always always there.

Which brings him to item number three: reliable.

Donghyuck could disappear from the face of the earth for two weeks straight and his line of business would still be running. Why, people may ask? Because he has you.

You’re here. You’re everywhere he wants you to be.

But right now—it’s difficult not to hate you right now.

Right now, if Donghyuck could describe you, right now you’re a piece of shit.

It’s been five days since the white envelope incident (as he calls it) and you have been nothing but a menace. An asshole. A literal piece of shit he wants to throw away. (Perhaps not literally.)

The first couple of days after the incident, the first thing he would see is another copy of your stupid resignation letter on his desk, and each time he would call for you, make you watch him rip it into pieces just like the last time, and you would leave his office, defeated—only to put the same stupid letter the next day like the asshole you are. You have threated to go straight to Human Resources, which you haven’t, thank God because Donghyuck doesn’t really want his grandfather to know these things, hend Donghyuck decided he would just hide from you. That way, in case Human Resources would ask why he didn’t approve the resignation, he could just say he never received a letter.

Which is why, Donghyuck has decided to work from home from this day onwards. You’ve been spamming his e-mail with the soft copy of the resignation letter, which he had ignored each time, and have been trying to call him non-stop, but he learned from Jeno that he could setup a meeting with himself in Microsoft Teams and pretend to present something so that nobody could call him and at the same time make people think he’s working because his status would tell people he’s presenting an important, well, presentation.

How long will he work from home? Well, up until you get your head out of your ass and stop asking him to approve your stupid resignation letter.

But you make it so fucking difficult. Apart from being kind, detail-oriented, and reliable, Donghyuck forgot that you’re also persistent. You don’t stop until you get what you want.

Which explains why there’s a delivery man walking back and forth from his truck to the inside of his house—because you decided to send three thousand copies of the resignation letter to his home. Three thousand copies of the same letter, all sealed in the same white envelope. Where do you even find the time to do this shit? He can’t believe you. He really can’t believe you.

He calls you as soon as the delivery person leaves his place.

“Fine!” is the first thing he says (more like screams) when you answer. “You know what? Sure, I’ll sign your stupid paper.”

“Thank you,” you reply, and it angers Donghyuck even more.

“Start looking for a fucking replacement. I don’t need you!”

“You’re upset, I understand that. You don’t have to be so mean about it, Donghyuck.”

“That’s daepyonim for you,” he retorts.

“Sure, daepyonim,” you bite back. “When can I come get my signed resignation letter, daepyonim? I’m itching to submit it to Human Resources.”

“Now,” he answers, all flared up and angry. You’re being a real piece of shit today. What’s gotten into you? “Come get it now, you ungrateful bitch.”

He hears you snicker on the other line before saying “thank you, daepyonim,” and you hang up.

Donghyuck throws his phone against the wall, and it breaks, dropping hard and in pieces down his warm, carpeted floor. He screams in frustration and pulls his hair, exhausted from whatever the fuck you’re doing. He can’t believe you’re really doing this. You’ve been with him for years; you literally grew up with him in the corporate world. He’s never heard one single complaint from you. Donghyuck’s mind runs a hundred kilometers per hour, trying to recall any memory of you expressing any intention to leave him, and it pisses him off a little that he never bothered to ask you once how you’ve been holding up over the last seven years. And he’s supposed to know; Donghyuck is supposed to know not only because this is something he should know as a leader (there was a webinar about retaining your employees four years ago but he slept through half of it), but also because he’s supposed to know you.

He supposed to know you the way you know him.

And right now, it seems like he’s dealing with a fucking stranger with how far away you are to him.

The door bell rings only minutes later. He guesses you’ve been waiting down the street after you sent 10 boxes full of resignation letters because it didn’t take you that long to reach his place.

“You could’ve just invited yourself in instead of wasting my energy; you know how busy I am,” is the first thing that Donghyuck comes up with.

“We’re not at work,” you remark. “This is your home. I can’t barge in anytime I want.”

“You barge in literally every time I oversleep and you pick me up,” he scoffs, turning to walk towards his living area with you following after him.

“Where’s my signed resignation letter?” you ask. “If I get it now and make it back to the office, someone from Human Resources can file it for me.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Relax. I’ll give it to you later. Come sit with me first.”

“I don’t really have time—”

Donghyuck turns and it’s a little too late for you to stop because now you’re chest to chest and Donghyuck has to hold your back to keep you from falling.

The first thing he notices up close is how dull your eyes look. Your eyes have always been bright, as far as Donghyuck could remember, and he knows this because even leaders from other lines of business have vocalized how excited your eyes always look whenever you’re at work. He’s heard people complimenting how pretty your eyes are, and you got voted as “Most Alluring Eyes of the Night” at the year-end party last year.

They’ve always been bright, full of sparks, passion, and warmth. But today, it’s all dull and empty, like a burnt-out light bulb barely hanging in there.

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks gently, still holding you.

You clear your throat and step back, bringing the space and coldness back between you and him. “What do you mean?”

“Talk to me,” he offers. “What’s wrong? Why are you leaving?”

“Like I said in the letter—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he warns. “Tell me why you’re leaving.”

“I’m not looking for a career advancement,” you say. “I swear. I didn’t get recruited from another company.”

“Tell me why you’re leaving,” Donghyuck repeats. You swallow and step back a little more, looking smaller than ever.

“Personal reasons,” you mumble. “I’ve been working in SM Tech for seven years, Donghyuck. I wasn’t even supposed to stay after my internship. My original plan was to get some experience and later on try to work abroad.”

“So, you’re not grateful that SM Tech absorbed you right after college?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you interrupt him. “I love SM Tech, and you know that. I owe the company literally my entire life. I wouldn’t have been able to afford the life I have now even if I worked abroad. You pay me more than anyone would and you’ve given me more bonuses than anyone else could get in a lifetime.”

(The car you got as a bonus wasn’t really a bonus; Donghyuck wanted to give it to you as a birthday gift without being seen as an emotionally attached sap, so he made the company tell you it’s a bonus.)

“But,” you say, sighing. “I’ve given so much of myself to SM Tech that I feel like I’ve got nothing left of me.”

“What do you mean?” he asks. He watches you look down, your toes fiddling, a sign that you’re nervous. “What do you mean you got nothing left of you?”

“I don’t know myself aside from being Lee Donghyuck’s secretary,” you finally say. “I’m scared that I’ll grow old not knowing what I else I can do aside from being your secretary.”

“Do you want to be promoted?” Donghyuck offers. “I can ask my grandfather to—”

You sigh, “That’s not at all what I mean Donghyuck.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to get away,” you say in a small voice. “From SM Tech. From you. I’ll learn more about myself if I was far away from you.”

“Then take a fucking vacation!” Donghyuck breaks, face red. “Use all of your paid time offs. If you need more, I’ll have them give you more. Buy a fucking plane ticket to wherever you want to go. Book a stupid hotel room and use my card. Go wherever you want to go. Just don’t leave me, damn it!”

“Donghyuck,” you whisper. “Please let me leave. This is all I want.”

“Where do you plan on going if you leave?” he asks.

“I plan to take a year off from work. I have enough savings to last me a year without working. I’m not sure yet. I’ll travel, or whatever options I have.”

“I don’t understand.” Donghyuck sighs, walking towards his expensive couch, sitting with his palms on his face, his elbows resting on thighs. He feels you sit beside him, your knees touching his.

“Donghyuck, I’m turning 28 in a few months,” you slowly say, your hand on his shoulder as if touching him would make him understand what you’re trying to say. “I haven’t traveled to places I want to go. I’m grateful that you took me with you to all the business trips you had abroad, but I also want to travel. I haven’t traveled for leisure.”

“Why do you never ask?” he mumbles, words unclear because his face is still planted on his palms. “Why can’t you just request for a PTO instead of being dramatic?”

You laugh. Donghyuck finally looks at you again. “Donghyuck, you’ve never approved a single PTO.”

“You never requested.”

“I haven’t requested one since 2019, because you’ve declined each request from 2016 until 2019. And I can’t afford to go on leave these days, especially when you’re about to become CEO,” you explain. “Which is why I have to quit now before you become CEO.”

“What’s your point?” he groans, leaning back, head tilted up so that he’s looking at the ceiling instead of your empty, dull eyes.

“I’m turning 28 in a few months,” you repeat. “You becoming CEO would mean I would get less time for myself when I barely have any right now.”

“I’ll change,” Donghyuck promises. “I’ll give you a full week off every month if you want. Paid off.”

You laugh. “I’m turning 28.”

Donghyuck curses. “Why do you keep saying that? We’re both turning 28!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” you said. Donghyuck turns his head towards you, head still resting on the couch. There’s a sparkle in your eyes now that you’re laughing.

“Get what?”

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you say, leaning over him, your hand reaching towards his head, hand gently tapping his hair. “I’m turning 28 and I want to start dating and eventually get married. If I don’t quit from you now, I don’t think anyone would want to marry me when I’m 40 or something.”

Donghyuck sits straight up, eyes wide, “That’s why you’re quitting?”

You lean back, nodding.

“Why are you so being dramatic about it, quitting and all this shit you’re pulling?” he asks. “Y/N, we can resolve this easily—”

“I can’t date while working for you, Donghyuck. The last time I dated someone, you literally scared them away by showing up on our date, which was not cool, by the way.”

“Then we can get married!”

Donghyuck sees the surprise on your eyes, watches you swallow as soon as you hear his proposal. He smiles, knowing he can never get you to say no.

“Think about it, baby,” he says, the endearment obviously affecting you with the way your breath hitches. “We’re basically married now. We’ve been together seven years. You can still work at the company. If you don’t want to be my secretary anymore, I’ll—I’ll come up with something. The only difference will be rings on our fingers and sharing the same house!”

“Donghyuck,” you try to say. “I—”

“I’m sure we can have it arranged in a few days. My auntie owns a company that organizes weddings and events. We can—”

“Donghyuck!”

Donghyuck stops when you shout, the first time, at him. “Why?”

“I don’t want to marry you,” you drop. “It’s like… marrying my job. That’s weird.”

Donghyuck laughs. You laugh, too, which is a relief for Donghyuck. Does this mean you won’t quit?

“And besides you have a girlfriend,” you remind him. Oh, yeah. Hyunjin.

Donghyuck snorts, ready to get his phone. “We’re just dating because my mother said so. I can break up with her now.”

You chuckle as you stop Donghyuck from taking his phone from his pocket. “Donghyuck. No more games.”

“I’m not playing!”

“Please,” you quietly say, hand still on his forearm, giving him a pleading squeeze. “Please let me go. I owe you my life, and I think it’s time I live it.”

Donghyuck looks for any sign of hesitance in your eyes. Any sign of regret. Any sign of joking albeit impossible. But all he finds in your eyes is hope. Longing. And who is he to deny you from living your life?

He’s probably going to regret this, but Donghyuck reaches over his coffee table for a pen and a copy of your resignation letter. He takes it from the envelope and places the paper on his thigh, signing it with his name, before taking a good look on it, then at you.

You smile when you see him sign it, and hold his hand longer when he hands it to you. “Thank you,” you say almost in a whisper.

Donghyuck could only smile back, lip tight. You bid him goodbye and tell him you’re going back to hand it over to HR.

Donghyuck could only nod.

Donghyuck could only watch you leave.

Donghyuck could only sit in silence.

Thirty days.

Thirty days is how long you’re giving Donghyuck to accept your departure. It’s a month from now, but it feels like it’s coming by too soon.

It’s driving him insane, and he was right, he would regret signing it as soon as you left. Now, he’s in the conquest to have you retract the resignation before thirty days is over. It’s Day One of Operation: Keep Y/N—the biggest project he’s ever had his entire career. He doesn’t have a plan yet, but Donghyuck will succeed no matter what.

“Jeno,” he says through the office phone. “I need you here.”

“Man, I’m busy, what do you want?”

“I need you to help me make Y/N retract her stupid resignation,” Donghyuck answers in whisper because you’re siting literally outside of his door. “We took the webinar about retaining employees together right?”

“We took two hundred webinars together, Donghyuck. How would I know?”

“We did,” Donghyuck confirms. “But I was asleep. And you were new, so I assume you took notes. How do you retain your best employees?”

“Donghyuck, I literally cannot remember even attending such webinar,” Jeno admits. “HR does that. They have a person in charge of retaining employees who are resigning. Hand it to them, man.”

Donghyuck loosens his tie. “They don’t know Y/N like I do.”

“Then maybe you’re not trying to retain an employee,” Jeno suggests. “Perhaps you’re just trying to make Y/N stay. I don’t think you need anyone’s help.”

Donghyuck stops breathing for a second, trying to repeat what Jeno just said. Donghyuck denies it in his mind; he needs you because you work with him well. Because you and him work well together. Because he succeeds in any endeavor when you’re beside him. He’s trying to retain you as an employee. For the CEO post. For SM Tech.

“That’s not what I mean,” Donghyuck tries, but Jeno is already hanging up on him.

Well, Jeno is no use. Donghyuck reckons he can’t call his father or mother about this because then they would know he doesn’t attend all those webinars they enroll him to.

Hence, Donghyuck will ask the next best thing: Google.

Google routes him to a link to a Forbes article that’s titled: “Top Five Tips For Retaining Employees During The Great Resignation" and he figures he can start from there.

Create connection through engagement. Implement remote/hybrid schedules. Go with a growth mindset. Beef up benefit offerings. Cultivate company culture.

Huh, Donghyuck thinks. It sounds easier than he imagined.

Donghyuck sits up straight, nodding to himself as he reads through the entire article, fueled and motivated. He’s not going to let you go, not in a million years, not in this lifetime.

Operation: Keep Y/N commences.

Every year, SM Tech holds a sports event to encourage engagement, and Donghyuck sees this as an opportunity to complete task number 1: create connection through engagement.

Which is why he is here now, wearing something he would never be seen in on a normal day: a pair of red sweatpants and a white shirt. Jeno is sitting excitedly beside him at the gymnasium that the company rented for an entire day. Like Donghyuck, Jeno and everyone else is wearing the same outfit, half of the population wearing blue instead of red to manage the teams more efficiently.

Now there was one problem, how will Donghyuck create a connection with you if he’s never joined any of this bullshit for the past seven years?

You, however, joined each and every single one. Now that he thinks about it, why did you never bother asking him to join?

“There she is,” Jeno whispers, pointing towards the basketball court.

Donghyuck finally sees you after a full ten minutes of looking for you since he arrived. He has 28 days, he reminds himself. 28 days until your resignation takes effect.

“Wait, where are you going?” Jeno asks when Donghyuck stands, jumping from one stair to another, passing by the people sitting on the bleachers. “Stupid,” he shouts loud enough for everyone to hear when Donghyuck almost trips. Donghyuck fights the urge to flip him off.

He tries not to run as soon as his feet land on the covered court, but his steps are bigger than normal, as though he’s scared he might not be fast enough to catch you. You’re usually passionate about these things; Donghyuck’s sure you volunteered on something one way or another.

When you’re almost at reach, he slows down a little to catch his breath so that you wouldn’t think he came running to see you. Donghyuck realizes this is also the first time he’s seen you with anything else apart from dress shirts, slacks or skirts, or formal wear. You’re holding a piece of paper, reading it with a colleague, because of course, you’re playing and leading the team. You don’t notice him come by, and Donghyuck thinks it’s cute, the way your eyes widen at the sight of him wearing the same outfit as everyone else.

“Donghyuck!” you exclaim. “Donghyuck-ssi.” You repeat. God, you’re cute. He never realized you were this cute until today. “You didn’t tell me you’re joining today.”

“Surprise, I guess?” Donghyuck replies. Your colleagues all bow and greet him. “I’m happy to see everyone here today. Let’s all have a good day!”

The small crowd cheers, one of them pointing out that Donghyuck is on the same team as them, another saying it’s the first time he’s seen anyone beyond director level joining an event as such. You smile proudly at Donghyuck. No one needs to know his heart does a backflip (he’s not sure how else to describe the sudden rapid beating or the drastic change in his breathing) whenever you smile proudly at him. He remembers the first time he’s seen that smile: the day of his first presentation with the board of directors. He’s seen in more times than he could count, and among a hundred times he shows off what he’s got, most of it is because he wants to see you smile at him proudly.

So, he does one thing after another that he knows would make you proud.

“If Red Team wins the trophy this year,” he says. “Dinner’s on me!”

Everyone wearing red sweatpants cheers. The ones wearing blue mutter about why no one from the leadership joined their team.

“Let’s all work hard today!” Donghyuck shouts one last time, and everyone starts walking away from the small crowd to go prepare for the games assigned to them.

Donghyuck is still smiling directly at you, who’s also smiling directly at him, and his heart does that thing again when you step closer to him. “You’re cool, Donghyuck-ssi.”

Donghyuck shrugs, licking his lips, “I am Lee Donghyuck.”

You giggle and roll your eyes. “Any games you’re interested in playing?”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “My old injury still won’t let me.”

You nod, remembering right away. “Oh, yeah. I’ll see you in the office, then?”

“I’ll stay and watch,” Donghyuck confirms. “I’ll be your… Gatorade boy.”

You laugh out loud, and Donghyuck feels everyone watching the scene unfold. He could hear women muttering at how lucky you are to have interactions like this with him.

You nod and tell him to watch out for his head because the girls will be playing volleyball and the boys, basketball. He reminds you to take care and asks you gently not to get injured. Donghyuck catches the blush on your cheeks before you turn to catch your colleagues.

Donghyuck returns to the bleachers. Jeno has moved three flights down, and is sitting on the front row as the referee blows the whistle. The game of basketball starts, and Donghyuck watches, keeping his eye on you every now and then.

Red Team wins, of course, and everyone’s cheers is jaded when he sees you jump in excitement on the other side of the court. The host announces the next game: three-legged race, and he reckons this is the game you’re assigned to because you walk across the court with your teammates.

Jeno explains the game to him. Donghyuck nods, eyes still on you.

“That’s Na Jaemin from Accounting,” Jeno whispers, pointing at the tall, blonde man standing in the middle of the court. “What a gorgeous man.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, checking the time. The game should start in three minutes. He watches you interact with your teammates, perhaps looking for your partner who is yet to arrive.

Donghyuck feels something he can’t explain when he sees a tall man approach you, tapping you on your shoulder, and you excitedly cheering when you see the man, giving him a side hug that Donghyuck realizes you’ve never given him.

“That,” Donghyuck breathes. “Who’s that?”

Jeno snickers.

“That,” he emphasizes, like how that lady from Julliard introduced Troy Bolton in High School Musical. “Is Jung Sungchan.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know everyone in SM Tech, but he would know if there was a Jung Sungchan sitting around, looking like a fucking God, hence his surprise to see someone speaking with you so casually, making you laugh as if he’s funnier than Lee Donghyuck himself. What does he do anyway? Is he a VP like Donghyuck? VP for what? VP for Having Perfect Skin? Jung fucking Sungchan. Donghyuck already doesn’t like him.

“He works in IT and Development, under Jisung’s supervision,” Jeno answers as if he’s reading Donghyuck’s mind. “He’s new. Like he recently got regularized.”

“Who decided to regularize him?” Donghyuck confronts.

“Me, stupid,” Jeno answers. “He’s great. A potential leader in IT, if you ask me.”

“Like VP level?” Donghyuck asks. “Can he be a VP?”

Jeno laughs. “Man, you’re screwed.” Donghyuck looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, as if he’s asking him what he means. “Nothing, nothing.”

“He’s good-looking, yeah, but he can’t be VP like me.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

Donghyuck keeps an eye on you the whole time, and he hates that whenever he looks at you, he sees Jung Sungchan. He watches your teammates tighten the ties they wrapped around your ankles and knees. He hates that he has to watch Sungchan pull you close, the side of your bodies touching like magnets. He hates that Sungchan could wrap an arm around you because you’re too short and you would fall as soon as the game starts if he doesn’t hold on to you. He hates that Sungchan could hug you as soon as the game ends because you and him just won the game for the team.

He hates that Jung Sungchan sits beside you the whole time after the game, even going out of his way to get a bottle of Gatorade for you. He hates that you smile at him proudly, and that you laugh at whatever joke that man was saying. He hates that he’s sitting on the other side of the court, and that you don’t give him the time of the day.

He hates that after the game, when the team is announced as the champion of this year’s sports event, the first person you hug is Jung Sungchan.

Lee Donghyuck hates that he doesn’t understand why he’s hating all of this all of a sudden.

He skips dinner and leaves his card to Jeno.

You don’t look for him, and Donghyuck doesn’t understand why he hates that you don’t.

Donghyuck becomes obsessed with Jung Sungchan the next Monday after the sports event. It’s also 25 days until your resignation is finalized, which means, he shouldn’t be thinking about Jung Sungchan and should be focusing on the rest of what that Forbes article said about retaining employees.

Jung Sungchan, Donghyuck learns, went to the same university as you. He is a few years younger, so he probably calls you nuna. (Which makes Donghyuck think now, how do you feel about being called nuna by a good-looking man? He’s heard from his younger sister that women like being called nuna or having a younger boyfriend in general. Did you want Jung Sungchan to be your boyfriend? Is that why you’re resigning? Are you resigning so you can date him?)

Sungchan is an IT major, who’s also taking his master’s degree while he’s working. He was originally an intern like you, who was absorbed by SM Tech as soon as he completed his degree. (Donghyuck thinks you and him are probably close because he’s taking the same path you when you started with SM Tech. Yeah, that could be a valid reason.)

Sungchan is also from the same hometown you grew up in, though you never really met each other until he started working at SM Tech. Sungchan has the same schedule as you and Donghyuck (don’t ask Donghyuck how he got these information—of course, it’s Jeno) and spends a lot of time in the rooftop playing with his Nintendo Switch.

The similarities between you and Jung Sungchan are scary at this point. Donghyuck barely spends lunch time with you because even a hardworking girl like you needs time for herself, and oh Lord, Donghyuck thinks. You spent a lot of time in the rooftop, too. You and Jung Sungchan may be closer than Donghyuck had imagined.

“Donghyuck?” you call, entering his office. Donghyuck quickly closes the window showing Sungchan’s profile in the employee directory. “I’m going to take my lunch. After this, come meet the applicants, please.”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

You smile. “For my replacement.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “That quickly? I thought you’re staying for like a month?”

You nod. “I figured it’ll be a smoother transition if we hire my replacement as early as next week, that way, they could get used to your schedule and daily whereabouts before I leave.”

Before you leave, of course, Donghyuck remembers. Of course, you’re leaving.

Donghyuck forgets about Jung Sungchan, doesn’t even think about him when he asks you: “Wanna have lunch with me?”

His heart somersaults when you smile back and say: “I’d love that, Donghyuck.”

Lunch is nothing but your sweet, soft laughter whenever Donghyuck cracks a stupid joke. It’s nothing but Donghyuck’s heart doing its thing whenever you say something encouraging or when you reach over to wipe the sauce from the tip of his lips. It’s nothing but Donghyuck thinking why he never invited you for lunch, why all meals with you all these years have always been rushed and in the middle of stacks of  folders because you both had to quickly go back to work if you wanted to make it home before midnight, why stressful Friday nights were just wine inside his office, why he never took time to talk to you like this. Like it’s nothing but you and him.

You know Donghyuck like the back of your hand. Donghyuck asks himself, does he know you like you know him? He knows how you handle certain situations and is well aware of your quirks inside the office, but does he know you like how you know the pain that comes with being the grandson of Chairman Lee? Does he know you the way you know he’s never really been in love with any of the women he dated and that he’s only dating them to comply with his Mother’s ridiculous requests? Does he know you the way you know right away when he’s sick and needs a couple of days off?

You have done so many things for Donghyuck. While you’re helping him with a glass of wine, Donghyuck thinks: what has he done for you? Has he done something as exhausting as handling the date invitations and break-up procedure with his past girlfriends? Has he done something as marvelous as getting out of your way to make sure he gets the best treatment while he was on leave when he had that awful injury? Has he done something as remarkable as setting up an entire banquet dinner for his family when he forgot about his parents’ anniversary?

Has Donghyuck done something you would remember him by when you leave?

Something drops on the pit of his stomach, and Donghyuck suddenly wants to throw up at the thought of you leaving. And of course, you notice this right away because you stop eating as soon as Donghyuck froze on his seat.

“What’s wrong?”

I’m going to miss this, Donghyuck thinks, but he would rather die than admit it out loud.

“The steak is not as good as the other place,” he lies, shaking his head. “Which means, we’ll have to go there tomorrow.”

You chuckle. “Sure.”

Lee Donghyuck isn’t scared of anything, but the sight right now is pretty much the scariest thing he’s ever seen his entire life.

As promised after lunch, you took Donghyuck to the Recruitment Hub to meet the potential candidates for your post. You and him might have forgotten, but neither of you had gone through the process of hiring somebody. You have never worked for anyone else apart from Donghyuck, and no one else has directly worked for Donghyuck apart from you.

So, when you and him step inside the Recruitment Hub, and all twenty-seven candidates simultaneously stand and greet you in chorus, it startles the shit out of you both.

“Uh, hello,” you greet awkwardly. “You can all sit. We’re just dropping by.”

A woman wearing all green approaches you with a confident façade, eyes and lips shaking as she walks towards you and Donghyuck.

“Hi, Y/N-ssi and daepyonim,” she greets in such a high-pitch voice, it’s impossible someone sounds like that naturally. “I’m excited to work with you.”

Donghyuck grimaces, but nods quickly, not accepting the handshake she’s offering. You accept it on his behalf.

One by one, the applicants introduce themselves, and Donghyuck can tell most of them are rookies, with the way they were bowing too much and how their voices were shaking a little because of the forced energy they’re trying to portray. All fucking twenty-seven of them.

Thank God, Soojung, the recruiter, stepped out of the interview room and asked everyone to sit and wait for their turn. She announces that the interview with Mr. Lee Donghyuck is not until they all pass the other interviews.

You and Donghyuck leave the scene, laughing on your way back to his office, because it was downright ridiculous, the scene you witnessed in the recruitment hub. He likes that you’re laughing with him, and Donghyuck take a chance:

“Stay,” he says softly, holding your hand. “Please.”

You smile back, squeezing his hand back before holding his face with both your hands, palms warm, and Donghyuck melts. “You know I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asks innocently. “Why can’t you stay?”

“You know why,” you answer.

“The marriage proposal is still on,” he offers. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Don’t joke about things like that, Donghyuck,” you giggle, squeezing his cheeks one last time before stepping back to leave.

“Why not?” he asks.

You don’t answer until you’re almost out the door: “I might start considering it.”

It’s twenty-two days before you leave when Donghyuck finds you on your desk and hands you a laptop from Jeno’s office—all encrypted and set-up for work—and tells you that you can work from home all week next week.

“I can?” you ask. “I never worked from home. Not even during the pandemic. I worked from your home office. But never in my own home.”

Donghyuck nods. “I figured you’ve been tired all week, with the presentation in the next couple of weeks coming up.”

“Exactly,” you point out. “The presentation we’ve been preparing for is coming up. I should be here with you.”

Donghyuck’s heart does the thing again. “And you’ve worked hard enough for it. You’ve done the research part, which took the longest, and I’m grateful you covered all that for me. Which is why I’m letting you work from home all week.”

Implement remote schedules, the article reminds him.

“Oh, man, thank you,” you say, hugging the laptop and bowing to him. “I really appreciate it.”

Donghyuck wonders why you never ask about these things. Looking at your reaction, it looks like this is something you’ve wanted for a while, but why have you never asked? He would have said yes easily.

“You let me know if you need me in the office and I’ll be here right away.” Donghyuck nods. “Thank you.”

Donghyuck goes back to his office. He figured he’ll be okay with you not being in the office.

He’s so wrong.

He’s not okay. It’s only been three working days since you started working from home and he’s already a mess. There are people knocking in his office because you aren’t there to shoo them away, and Donghyuck is not really a people-person, okay? If it weren’t for his Lee blood, he wouldn’t have made it to this position because he’s not that good with people. He’s mean and vile and rude, and his boss would probably fire him right away as soon as he opens his mouth.

Someone with the name of Chaewon is explaining something to him right now, something about logistics and about her needing him to give the sign off to another person with the name of Jiwon. She apologizes for barging in and says she doesn’t know what to do without you here. Donghyuck could say the same thing, honestly.

As soon as Chaewon is out the door, Donghyuck follows behind and locks the door.

He takes his phone and hopes you pick up because you’re probably focused on a report you’re studying since early morning.

You pick up, like always.

“Come back,” is all Donghyuck says.

You’re back in the office in no less than 20 minutes.

Seventeen days from your departure, Donghyuck is walking around Gangnam trying to find the perfect gift for his Mother. The jewelry shop around the corner is the only place his mother likes, so he buys her the bracelet filled with diamonds that she’s been eyeing on for a long time.

When Donghyuck is about to pay, a ring catches his attention. It looks great. Would look better on your hand, because, well, you have the prettiest hand. He’s going to buy it for you for no reason. Just to say thank you for staying with him for seven years.

Exactly two weeks before your departure, Human Resources finally finds a person who’s apparently fit for your job. Donghyuck doesn’t believe them at all but agrees to meet the person anyway.

You’re on the phone with someone when he steps out of his office. You look at him and point to the phone.

“Hyunjin,” you mouth. Donghyuck shakes his head and waves his hands, telling you no, I’m not here.

“Yeah, I understand, Hyunjin-ssi,” you speak. “Donghyuck-ssi has been extremely busy with the potential partner who’s visiting in a week—Oh, he didn’t tell you about? I’m sorry. He must have forgotten.”

Donghyuck gives you a thumbs up. You owe me, you mouth again.

“I assure you there’s no one else, Hyunjin-ssi,” you speak again. “He’s in his office 12 hours a day, and his driver drops him home and picks him up every day, so I don’t think he’s sleeping around.”

Donghyuck sighs. He needs to make his mother stop setting him up with other women.

“I’ll definitely have him call you as soon as he returns from the meeting he’s in,” you say, voice empathetic, probably because you’ve mastered the art of handling Lee Donghyuck’s relationships. “I heard you were in the Dior Fashion Week last month? You were so beautiful!”

Donghyuck leaves and lets you do what you do best: handle things he can’t.

He knows you know the drill by now. Seven long years, about nine or ten girlfriends in between, none of which he ever really loved.

“You’re so corny,” you had said once, while composing a love letter for one of his ex-girlfriends. “This is, like, so outdated,”

“What is?”

“This whole process!” you laughed. “Donghyuck, we’ve been doing this for over five years. You’re so corny and repetitive and unoriginal. No wonder no woman ever stays.”

“I leave,” he corrected. “And I’m not repetitive.”

You snorted. “Donghyuck, I know how each of your relationship started and ended.”

“Do you?” he challenged. “Tell me then.”

“It always starts with your mom,” you joked, but it was true anyway. “And you send them an external e-mail from your work account because you’re a piece of shit who likes to brag the VP title.”

“Right,” he agreed, laughing.

“And the first date is always at Love Always,” you continued. “Nowhere else! Besides Love Always! It’s not even a good restaurant. People go there for the clout.”

“And for Instagram,” he added. “Of course, if I take her there, she would take many pictures to post on her Instagram.”

“The second date is in your office,” you said. “And Chef Park makes the food especially for you two. And I buy a fancy flower arrangement to decorate your entire office.”

“And you have the audacity to use my card and buy yourself tulips,” he interjected. You shrugged and poked your tongue on him. “But go on, what’s next?”

You cleared your throat. “The third date will only happen if you like her enough during the second date. The criteria are as follows: did she make a comment about the security system? She should, because Jeno invented that. If she doesn’t, there’s no third date.” Donghyuck is impressed. “Did she ask you to narrate a day in your life in this very office? She should be interested in what you do, otherwise she’d only be depressed because work is all you talk about. If she’s not, there’s no third date. Lastly, did she compliment Chef Park’s food? He’s the best chef in the entire world so if she doesn’t, then there’s no third date.”

“Impressive,” Donghyuck commented. “But you missed something.”

“No, I didn’t,” you confidently answered. Donghyuck smiled.

“You missed the part where they have to be kind to you on the second date to get a third date.”

Donghyuck didn’t miss the blush on your cheeks.

“Whatever,” you shrugged. “Anyway, if it’s time for The Big Break-up, you ghost them for two or three weeks. When they start calling, La Belle Fleur is just a speed dial away. I have to get the most expensive arrangement of flowers, depending on the girl’s preference, and write in verbatim: I’m sorry I’m not enough for you. A woman like you deserves better. Please accept my apology. I will not bother you anymore.”

“Bingo!” Donghyuck confirmed. “And lastly—”

“Love always,” you said together. “Lee Donghyuck.”

(Hyunjin never got the third date, Donghyuck remembers. So, she’ll probably get the break-up flowers.)

Zhong Chenle is bright like you when he enters Donghyuck’s office. Perhaps not as bright, but good enough.

“Donghyuck-ssi,” you start. “This is Zhong Chenle. Your new secretary. He will start tomorrow. I had facilities setup a desk and computer beside mine. We’re working on his ID and credentials today, so there should be no issues tomorrow.”

“Nice you meet you, daepyonim,” Chenle greets, bowing a complete 90 degrees. “I’ll work hard.”

Donghyuck only nods, still not used to talking to other people apart from you. He sees you mouth something to him, along the words of “be kind”, but Donghyuck’s not really in the mood to being kind when you just reminded him again that you’re leaving in literally two weeks.

“Have you sent the flowers to Hyunjin?” is what he says to you, tone mean and condescending.

“I’ll have it done in a minute. I wanted to introduce Chenle first before I—”

“We’ve been introduced,” he firmly says. “Now go do your job. Out.”

You look at him in disbelief, probably biting your tongue, but nod and leave anyway.

Donghyuck doesn’t know where this sudden change of mood is coming from; perhaps when he saw Chenle, he realized it’s real. He realized you’re leaving SM Tech. You’re leaving him.

Of all people, you are leaving him.

He would think seven years would mean something to you. His feelings are still unclear, but one thing is for sure, those years mean everything to him.

Donghyuck’s suddenly bitter. Angry at the fact that you had the audacity to even bring a new secretary for him. That you had to keep coming to work and showing him the things you do for him, further making him feel like you’re trying to show him he’d go limp without you.

Fuck trying to get you to stay.

You can go as far away as you want.

“This isn’t right,” Donghyuck comments when he reads Chenle’s report.

“We’ll correct it right away,” you interject, but Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Do you expect me to accept work like this?” Donghyuck asks.

“Donghyuck, I’ll—”

“I’m not talking to you,” he spits, eyeing you before turning back to Chenle who has his head down. “You, Chenle!”

“Yes, daepyonim,” he says in a whisper.

“Talk louder,” Donghyuck commands. He hasn’t been like this in a while. During the first few years of working, he might have treated you this way, but it’s been so long that he can’t remember. “Do you expect me to accept work like this?”

“No, daepyonim,” the younger man answers. “I’m sorry. It was my first time, and—”

“And you should be forgiven? Who told you that? Whose rule is that?” Donghyuck challenges, then looks at you. “Y/N? Is that what she said? If you make a mistake, because it’s your first time, you’re forgiven? Is that it?”

You and Chenle remain silent. Donghyuck can’t read your face and would rather not look at you while he’s trying to be angry.

“Now you can’t answer?” he scoffs. “Don’t believe a word Y/N says. She’s leaving, why do you think she’s leaving? If this is such a great job, why would someone working here for seven fucking years leave? This is going to be your life every day. Rethink your fucking choices and get out of my office.”

Chenle nods, bowing before leaving. Donghyuck ignores you and goes back to his work, typing away. You, however, remain silent, just standing there watching him.

“What are you waiting for?” Donghyuck asks calmly. “Do you need me to walk you out of my office?”

“If you’re mad at me,” you say, voice shaking. Donghyuck realizes you’re about to cry. “Don’t take it out on the kid.”

Donghyuck snorts. “He needs to be tough if he wants this job.”

“I—” you start again. Donghyuck waits. But you keep your mouth shut.

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on his monitor and hears the door shut. When you’re gone, he can only watch the door, as if he’s expecting you to come back.

He reckoned it’ll be easier to watch you leave if you hate him. It’ll be easier to watch you leave when your eyes aren’t as bright and warm as they are.

Donghyuck keeps himself locked inside his office for the rest of the day. You leave a message in his inbox, telling him you and Chenle are out for lunch, then another when you returned exactly one hour later. Donghyuck doesn’t have the heart to reply to you.

Later that night, you send him another message saying you and Chenle are logging off for the day. He sighs in relief when he reads it and quickly prepares to leave as well. What he didn’t know is that, you and Chenle are still right outside his door. He stays behind the door.

“Donghyuck’s just stressed,” he hears you say. “You know, Weishen Inc is really big time. Like, if you already think SM Tech is huge, Weishen Inc is like, ten times.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Chenle replies. The kid’s probably right. “I don’t think I can fill the shoes you’re leaving behind.”

“You’ll be better than me!” you encourage him. “You’re already ten steps ahead with that skill in Microsoft Excel. Donghyuck had to teach me.”

“Really? That asshole has the patience to teach you?”

“Hey!” Then a slap, probably on Chenle’s arm. “Don’t talk shit about your boss.”

“You just told me ‘he can be an asshole sometimes’ literally five hours ago,” Chenle answers. Donghyuck stifles a laugh.

“Well, Donghyuck and I are friends,” you point out. “So, I guess that’s a pass to talk shit about him.”

“Fair,” Chenle agrees. “How did you even become friends with him?”

You chuckle. “I don’t know, Chenle. I guess, because we’ve been working together for seven years, we grew on each other. He was mean. Vile. He was the spawn of the devil when I first met him. But it was only because he was pressured to do well, and he can’t do well if his secretary is incompetent. I know everything I know because of him. That’s why I had to work hard, so that he could succeed in all of his endeavors.”

“So, you work hard for Lee Donghyuck?” the younger one asks.

“Exactly.”

“Well, what about you?”

“That’s why I’m quitting, kid,” you answer. “Time to work hard for me.”

Donghyuck hears them shuffle around, footsteps getting farther and farther away. When Donghyuck hears nothing but silence, he leaves.

Days go by with you and Donghyuck not talking at all. Not even for work.

It’s seven days before you leave, and Donghyuck has given up on making you stay. He doesn’t think it’s worth fighting for anyway, because you’re leaving and nothing’s stopping you. And who is Donghyuck to stop you?

Who is Donghyuck to stop you from living your life and choosing yourself?

If he was being honest, he feels guilty over the fact that you had to live all these years jailed to being his secretary, but at the same time, there’s a needle poking his heart when he wonders why you make working with him sound so miserable. Why it feels like you never wanted any of these. Why seven years suddenly mean nothing but work for you.

Donghyuck wants to ask, what about all those hours when you and him aren’t working?

Nights of drinking at a convenience store because you would rather go home than spend so much money on overpriced drinks at a crowded, loud bar. That entire week of being stuck in the US together because all flights were canceled and the next earliest flight was six days after the original departure. Days of nothing but watching movies in his office because there were no clients to worry about. Dinners with his family, dinners at his place. Weekends in Japan because you and him are stressed and you need some kind of getaway.

Did… did Donghyuck force you all those times? Did you feel like you had to say yes because you’re working for him?

He needs to drink. Donghyuck doesn’t have many friends. He has Jeno, but Jeno is in New York right now. And, well, he had you. He can’t call you for many reasons.

So, he goes alone, of course. He leaves work early, leaving a message to Chenle that you and him can go home whenever. He tells his chauffer he can take the night off, too. Donghyuck doesn’t need anyone tonight. He can take care of himself, thank you very much.

He takes an Uber home, and drives himself after dressing up. He’s planning to get drunk as shit and to get laid tonight, so of course, he needs to look great.

The club is loud when he arrives, and he convinces himself he’s never too old to go clubbing, though with the look of the women’s faces here, he reminds himself to be careful and ask how old they are if he plans to make out with them.

He opens a tab and asks for some rum and coke to start off the night. He can’t remember how many drinks he’s had when he finally gets the courage to go dance and pull a woman wearing a tight, beautiful dress from the crowd. She smells great and Donghyuck feels the curve of her hips when he pulls her close.

And she’s kissing him now. Donghyuck hasn’t kissed anyone in a while, so he doesn’t know if it feels great.

Then she’s touching him everywhere, pushing him until he’s seated on a couch and she’s sitting on his lap. Her tongue is everywhere. One second it’s in his mouth, the next on his neck, and Donghyuck is just drunk as shit and wants to get laid.

How old are you is what he wants to ask but it comes out as: “How old is the hotel?”

“What?” the woman asks. “If you’re horny, we can do it here. There’s a bathroom on the back. Let’s go.”

Donghyuck shakes his head. He’s never had sex in such a scandalous place. Sex should be done in bed. “No. Bed sex only. Hotel, please.”

“You serious?” she asks. Donghyuck nods. “Fucking loser.” Then leaves.

Donghyuck laughs at himself. Yes, he’s definitely a loser. He looks down and his dick is not even hard enough to invite someone for sex. It’s fine though, the woman she was making out with doesn’t have eyes as bright as—

“Fuck off,” he says to no one. “Get the fuck out of my mind.”

He goes back to the bar and take as many tequila shots as he can. It seems like rum wasn’t enough to get you out of his mind, because he’s here to make out with people and have sex with someone but all he can think about is your stupid fucking eyes that he loves so much for some reason he could never comprehend.

Donghyuck doesn’t remember how many shots he’s had now, but his chest starts to hurt so he convinces himself to stop. He hands his card over to the guy at the bar and tells him to give himself KRW 100,000 as a tip. Then he’s out.

Donghyuck is dizzy as fuck when the lights from the streets hit him. He’s stumbling when he reaches his car keys and presses the buttons so he could find his car. It takes long for him to simply get to his car, and Donghyuck is stupid, but he’s not dumb. He’s not making it home alive if he tries to drive now. Perhaps he could sleep in his car all night. Yeah, that’s what he will do.

So, he gets in his car, rolls one of the windows down, and settles himself on the driver’s seat, eyelids heavy.

Then—

His phone rings.

“Y/N, baby,” he drunkenly greets, eyes still closed. “Why are you calling me?”

“Where are you?” you ask, worried. Donghyuck smiles.

“Aw, you miss me, baby?” he asks, giggling.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” he hiccups. “I was trying to have sex with someone. Apparently, I’m—I’m a loser for wanting to have sex on a bed than a dirty public restroom. How am I a loser for being able to afford a hotel for a one-night stand.”

You sigh on the other line. “Why are you—What are you even, you know what? I don’t want to know. Stay there. I have your location on.”

“No!” he protests. “Don’t come! I don’t want to see you! And I don’t want you to see me like this!”

“Don’t hang up,” you warn. “Are you on the street or something?”

“I’m in my car,” Donghyuck says anyway. “But I don’t want to see you.”

“I’ll wear a face mask so you don’t see me,” you answer. Donghyuck hears you shuffling on the other line, probably driving. How did you even know he’s out tonight?

“Wear sunglasses, too,” Donghyuck suggest. “I don’t want to see your eyes.”

“Okay.”

“No, don’t. I want to see them,” he says. “I probably won’t ever look at you in the eyes sober again.”

“Whatever you want, Donghyuck.”

“I’m about to pass out,” he whines. “Please come quickly. I need to see you before I pass out.”

“I’m nearby.”

“Wait no, don’t drive too fast,” he exclaims. “I need you alive.”

“I’ll be alive. I’m around the corner. Where are you parked?”

“Guess!”

“Donghyuck, I don’t want to play games with you. Please—there you are. Wait for me.”

“I’ll wait for you forever.”

The next scenes go by quickly in Donghyuck’s mind. You help him get out of his car and take him inside yours. You promise him you’ll pick up his car early in the morning and ask him to try to stay awake until you reach his penthouse.

Donghyuck tries his best. Everything is doubled in his sight, but he plays with the tablet connected to your car, and takes out everything you have in the small compartment in front of him. He reads all the labels and even the ingredients of the products you had in there in attempts of staying awake.

And when you reach his home, he realizes how great you smell.

You help him reach his bed and get him out of his clothes because you know he likes to sleep naked. You ask him to drink a glass of water before going to the bathroom, grabbing a towel soaked in warm water.

Donghyuck is already lying on his bed, snuggled in his blankets, when you return. You don’t talk, but Donghyuck thanks you when you start dabbing the towel all over his face then down to his neck and chest.

“Here,” Donghyuck points to the skin below his jaw. “Clean it. She kissed me there.”

Donghyuck is dazed, but he doesn’t miss the way you stopped as soon as he said that. “Clean me everywhere. Because she kissed me everywhere.”

And so, you do. You clean him everywhere, and Donghyuck feels you press harder on his skin, gliding the rough side of the towel harshly.

“Where else?” you ask. Donghyuck is already half asleep. “Where else did she kiss you?”

Donghyuck weakly points to his lips, one eye open. “Here.”

He watches you leave, going back inside his bathroom, and return with another towel, a cup and a bottle of mouthwash. He does his best to get up when you help him. You hand him the mouthwash, reminding him not to swallow it, and wait for him to clean his mouth. Once he’s done, you wipe his mouth with a clean towel, putting everything on his side table, and Donghyuck you’re sitting so close to Donghyuck now.

You’re holding him so tight, face inches away from him.

“Sleep, Donghyuck,” you whisper. Donghyuck leans closer. “Please.”

“I want to kiss you,” he confesses. “Kiss me. Please.”

“Donghyuck, let’s not do something you will regret later.”

“I won’t regret it because I won’t remember,” he answers. “Please kiss me.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know why he’s surprised when you do. He’s naked and you’re sitting on his bed, kissing him. And you’re kissing him like it’s all you ever wanted. You started softly kissing him, like you’re testing the waters or kissing something so delicate, like you’re scare you would break it, but Donghyuck pulls you closer, holds you by your jaw, and invites himself inside your mouth.

The next thing he knows, you’re sitting right on top of his boner and he’s unbuttoning your shirt and kissing everywhere, biting, nipping, licking—and God, you taste good. Better than he imagined. He’s about to unclasp your bra when you stop him.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper. “Let’s do this when you’re sober, yeah?”

Donghyuck nods like a child, and his boner hurts, he just wants to bust a nut, but agrees anyway.

He doesn’t remember much after that. He passes out as soon as you kiss him on the forehead with a promise of seeing him tomorrow. 

When he wakes up the next morning, he remembers everything.

Two days before your departure and Donghyuck is yet to get the courage to speak with you.

He called in sick after the incident five nights ago and has been avoiding you like plague. Today, however, is the day the folks from Weishen Inc is vising SM Tech for his presentation, and he’s nothing but a bunch of nerves all morning.

He assumes he’s forgiven for everything when you step inside his office with a chamomile tea in hand. You know he can’t present anything properly without drinking chamomile tea first.

“You’re going to be great,” you offer with a small smile. “I’ll be there with you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure Weishen will agree with the partnership,” you assure. “You worked so hard on this.”

“We,” he corrects. “You did more than I have. I’m all confidence and talk; you’re the research and brain.”

“Guess this is why we’re the best partners,” you joke. “We balance each other out.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

You nod. “I know.”

“Tomorrow’s your last day.”

“Tomorrow’s my last day,” you agree. “But that’s tomorrow. Today, we’ll secure your partnership with Weishen Inc.”

“We will.”

Of course, you and Donghyuck secured the partnership. You and him were the best team the world has ever known.

“The team prepared a goodbye party at the pantry for you,” Chenle says when you, him, and Donghyuck are walking back from the board room to Donghyuck’s office. “If you have nothing to do now, can we go?”

“Chenle, baby,” you say. “I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me.”

Chenle gasps. “I’m not?”

“It’s a surprise,” Donghyuck mumbles. “Jeno and his team prepared it. Chenle, you were supposed to ask her to grab coffee from the pantry.”

You laugh at Chenle’s distress. ”Nuna! I’m so sorry!"

You assure the younger one it’s okay, and ask Donghyuck’s permission if you could go, which Donghyuck agreed to, of course. There wasn’t anything else to do for the rest of the day, anyway. The only thing everybody had going on today was the business proposal presentation for Weishen Inc. and since that’s done, you were free to go.

“Donghyuck,” you call when Donghyuck was about to go back inside his office. “Please come. I want you to be there.”

Donghyuck nods. “I’ll be on my way. Just have to check something.”

You nod back, smiling, and Donghyuck feels like he’s about to cry. It’s all bittersweet, and Donghyuck wonders how he could stretch the day longer tomorrow.

He quickly takes the small box that’s been sitting inside his drawer for weeks now and runs back outside to the pantry.

When he gets there, everyone’s gathered around you, and he knows you’re crying already because he could hear Chenle teasing you.

He sees Jeno who smiles at him knowingly, and your other colleagues you’ve gotten close with over the last seven years. He even sees Jung Sungchan that he’s forgotten about now, and he’s not bothered that the younger man hugs you as you cry. Chenle pops the champagne open, and starts to pour some to as many people as he can.

It’s Jeno who raises a toast. “To Y/N, thank you for your seven long years of service with SM Tech. We wouldn’t have gotten where we are now if you weren’t with us. You literally bring us all together because Donghyuck is Donghyuck, God knows he wouldn’t work with anyone. So, if it weren’t for you, Client Solutions and SM Tech itself wouldn’t be a success. To Y/N, you’re finally free from Lee Donghyuck!”

You laugh at the message. Jeno turns to Donghyuck. “Donghyuck, wanna say something?”

Donghyuck thinks. He has a lot to say. A lot of things to thank you for, countless of things to apologize for, many things to celebrate, but very little comes out when he’s surrounded with a crowd like this.

Therefore, he says the only thing he could muster up: “You and I will always be the best team the world’s ever known.”

The crowd cheers, and you continue crying.

Donghyuck raises a glass, drinks it in one go, then leaves, the small box in his pocket heavy.

It’s you who finds Donghyuck in the rooftop hours later.

He never realized how comforting this place can be. Because he was only ever here during his first two years working when he had to smoke his stress off from his body. The sun has set, and all Donghyuck could see are the lights from the streets and the buildings around SM Tech.

“Hey, stranger,” you tell him, sitting right beside him on the bench.

He only smiles and continues to stare ahead.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

Donghyuck chuckles. “Y/N, if you’re here to say goodbye, please don’t.”

“I’m not saying goodbye, Donghyuck,” you answer. “I was looking for you. You left.”

“I,” he starts. “I can’t handle that kind of atmosphere. You know that.”

You nod. “I figured. We took pictures. I wanted you there.”

Donghyuck remains silent. He lays his hand on top of his thigh, the one closer to you, and he lays it with his palm facing the sky, open, waiting for yours. You don’t need another second to figure it out.

It’s not the first time you’re holding hands. You held Donghyuck’s hand multiple times in this lifetime, and he held yours countless of times, but this one feels different.

You hold his hand like an assurance. Of what? Donghyuck isn’t sure. But he feels warm despite how cold it is up here. Like an assurance. Like certainty.

There were many things that Lee Donghyuck wasn’t sure of; things like getting that CEO role in the next couple of years, like how he’ll be able to make it without you outside his office, like how he can ensure that the partnership with Weishen Inc will run for a long time—even things like what would happen tomorrow. He’s always believed that his life is full of uncertainties despite receiving everything in a silver platter and that his life is crazy in many ways.

But here, under the starless sky of Seoul, he’s found the only thing he’s certain about and the only thing in his life that makes sense: you.

It’s you who have been with him in the past seven years. You who holds his hand at his lowest and cheers the loudest in his best. You who have always been gentle and kind and everything the world could never be. It’s you, the one he has loved for a long time without him knowing.

And he hopes it’s not too late.

When you decided to leave, he thought that the selfish part of him only needed you so he could succeed in his goals, because you have always been with him every step of the way from the day he started. Then he realized, you quitting would mean he would no longer see you every day, would no longer have someone to hold his hand when needs it, would no longer have someone laugh at his stupid jokes and tolerate his bullshit decisions, would no longer have anyone listen to him, would no longer have anyone to buy gifts for every Christmas, would no longer have anyone smile proudly at him every day.

Donghyuck cannot imagine a life without you. And when you said you were quitting because you wanted to get away from him, it hit Donghyuck like a fucking truck: you didn’t want him more than someone you’re working for, when all he’s ever really wanted is you. He goes to pointless dates thinking about you, whether you’d eaten or not, if you like the new album from that band you and him like, if you’d seen the new Avatar movie. And you were there, thinking of him only as Lee Donghyuck, the man you work for.

Which is why he’s so bitter about you leaving. Because you weren’t only leaving SM Tech. You were leaving Donghyuck.

But you’re here now. And you’re holding his hand, and Donghyuck wants, wants, wants.

Donghyuck wants you.

“I—”

“You—”

You giggle. “Alright, you go first.”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “I’ll throw up if I go first. You go first.”

You nod. “I’m going to miss you.” You smile.

“I miss you already,” Donghyuck whines. “But, go on.”

“I’m sure you remember what happened that night that’s why you called in sick all week,” you say. Donghyuck can blame the cold for the blush on his face. “And I remember, vividly. And I don’t regret it.”

Donghyuck nods. He doesn’t know what to say. He should’ve gone first.

“Do you regret it?” you ask, hopeful.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Not one bit. I was scared you did. So, I ran away.”

“Why did you go out kissing other women,” you breathe. “When I’ve been waiting for a long, long time now?”

It’s Donghyuck who stops breathing when you say it. And he can’t believe you’re saying this now, because how long? How long have you two been blindly pining for each other like this? Why did it have to take you leaving for you to realize it.

“It’s true what they say,” you suddenly say. “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Donghyuck, I won’t wait for that to happen for me to tell you how important you are to me. I won’t wait until you’re gone for you to know how much you mean to me. I’m sorry if I made you feel like the last seven years mean nothing to me—that’s not at all the case. I love you, and it sounds ridiculous when I say this but I’m leaving because I do. Love you. So much. You cannot imagine how much I do, and I’m scared that I might only love you because I’m with you all the time, which is why I’m leaving. I’m leaving and I’ll be my own person and I’ll still love you.”

“Y/N…” Donghyuck struggles. “I thought you were leaving because you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I’ve never not wanted you, Donghyuck,” you confess. “I can’t remember a time that I didn’t love you.”

Donghyuck’s tongue is tied. So, he does the next best thing.

The ring that’s been kept in pocket is beautiful when he opens it towards your direction. “It’s not a proposal,” he says right away.

“It’s a promise?” you ask, teasingly. “I told you. You’re as corny as it can get.”

“I’m literally going to throw this ring out there,” Donghyuck replies. “Show me some respect. You still work for me.”

“That’s hot.”

“Y/N!”

He closes the box and hands it over to you. “It’s yours. That’s my heart and it’s yours. You keep it if you want to. Put it back in my desk first thing in the morning if you don’t.”

You take it with both hands. “And if I wear it?”

“Then it means your heart is mine, too.”

Normally, you would snicker and say something along the lines of cheesy and unoriginal, so, Donghyuck is surprised when you lean over and give him a peck on his cheek. Donghyuck blushes even more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lee Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck smiles warmly, hand finding yours again. You stand and go back inside the building. He turns so he can watch you leave, and the past few weeks, simply watching you step out of his office leaves a heavy weight on his chest, but this time around he watches you with a happy, content heart, knowing that he’ll see you again tomorrow—not for the last time; tomorrow and every day, he hopes. Love always, he hopes.

[bonus: your POV]

Your last day in SM Tech isn’t as eventful as the day before. It’s mostly handing over your access badges and endorsing everything to Chenle and leaving all the reminders to Donghyuck’s desk.

You’ve bid farewell to mostly everyone, and you haven’t seen Donghyuck yet because he came in earlier than everyone else to meet his grandfather in the Chairman’s office. The ring on your finger is beautiful, and you can’t help but anticipate Donghyuck’s reaction when he sees it.

Lunch goes by, and Donghyuck is still in the Chairman’s office. You spend the rest of the day with Chenle, ensuring that you’ve endorsed everything. Jeno stops by a couple of times, checking on you and Donghyuck.

It’s around four in the afternoon when you see Donghyuck from the hallway, speaking with another VP, and he’s dressed so prettily today, a dark suit and tie, hair pushed back—handsome. You stand as he bids goodbye to the others, and you know he’s tired from the way his eyelids are drooping heavily even from afar. And when he sees you, God, when he sees you, he sighs in relief, eyes brighter than ever, as he walks towards you.

“I’m sorry, the chairman needed all his VPs all day today, none of us expected it,” he explains as soon as he reaches you. He hasn’t bothered to look at your hand yet. “You’ve had lunch, yes?”

You nod. “Chenle and I ordered sushi. You?”

“Yeah, the chairman prepared an entire banquet for us,” he answers. “Chenle, do you mind if I take Y/N away for a minute?

Chenle nods. “She’s all yours, daepyonim.”

Donghyuck smiles and takes you hand (the one without a ring), pulling you towards his office. You see Chenle smiling teasingly back in his desk.

As soon as the door is shut, Donghyuck pulls you into a hug, sighing in relief. “I needed this. And I’m sorry. It’s your last day here and I’m supposed to be by your side but you know, duty calls.”

“It’s fine,” you say, pulling back so you can look at his face, all tired and sleepy. You reach up. “You poor thing. We can go home early, if you want.”

“Yeah, I would—” You caress his face with both hands, and there, finally. “You’re wearing it.”

You nod, “Because my heart is yours.”

Donghyuck grimaces. “You’re right. It’s corny.”

“I told you.” You poke a tongue at him. “Now, may I kiss you?”

“I need a minute,” he says and you frown up at him. He untangles himself from you and walks over to his desk. “All you access have been deactivated, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “At exactly 4pm, my Outlook no longer allowed me to login.”

“Alright,” he says and types something on his computer. “I just need to send one important e-mail and we can go.”

Your phone buzzes from the pocket of your suit. You take it and look at the notification: a new e-mail from your personal inbox. You look up back to Donghyuck, and he’s walking back towards you with a stupid, handsome smile on his face.

You shake your head, chuckling, as you open the new e-mail.

From: lee.donghyuck@smtech.com To: youremail@personal.com

Subject: Invitation

Greetings!

I hope this e-mail finds you well. You are cordially invited for an exclusive dinner with me tonight at your choice of restaurant, with an optional (and highly encouraged) offer to cuddle at my penthouse after.

Looking forward to your response.

Love always,

Lee Donghyuck Vice President, Client Solutions | lee.donghyuck@smtech.com | SM Tech SK

me rereading this fic: still in love with the world-building and the character dynamics 😆

A long journey home| 01

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 9.1K

Synopsis:  All you wanted was to confront your flaky coworker, Taehyung, not get dragged across a magical fantasy realm trying to deliver a baby dragon safely back to its home kingdom.

Fantasy!au

Notes: I’m not really sure what this is, if I’m being honest. Just a fic so big I split it into two. I basically just wrote whatever I thought was fun and so there’s not a huge amount of plot or anything, really. Just me having fun. Hopefully its fun for you too, at least.

1 | 2 

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♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

The Bet

au+trope+prompt game: coffee shop!au Mark + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do?

pairing: mark lee + fem!reader

other members as background characters: lucas

genre: fluff (only some suggestive stuff)

word count: 3,796

warnings: slight objectification of reader, suggestive stuff, heavy making out, a boner, i guess a stockings kink

summary: “When you took that part time job as a barista at your local café, you only cared about grabbing your check while doing the least work possible. But when your supervisor, Mark Lee, keeps getting praised and winning ‘Employee Of The Month’, you offer a bet, to prove him that he’s no better than you. The outcome? Your relationship changing forever.”

a/n: hbd baby <3

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It started off as just a little part time job.

College life was not easy to cope with financially, and eating instant noodles for a week straight could only save you so much money. So when you saw the ‘Barista Wanted’ sign at the cafe that was just a block away from your house, you didn’t miss your chance for a few extra bucks. And that’s all that job would be for you. Doing the least work possible for the minimum wage you were given, if it wasn’t for him. Mark Lee.

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assertive mark is always an attractive portrayal 🙂‍↕️ ♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

Softer than velvet

pairing: magazine co-editor! mark lee x fem!y/n

genre: smut

warnings: office sex

word count:  2,926

summary: “Mark is a co-editor in the fashion magazine you work for, monopolizing everyones attention with his looks, including yours. Prompted by his vast knowledge about lingerie and his tendency to want to rip them apart, you invite him in your office, and you definitely put him to work”

a/n: inspired by the legendary scene from ‘Community’ and a discussion I had with my bf and best friend about lingerie.

—————————————————-

He looked dashing again, as always. 

While Monday morning finds most employees in their tousled bed hair, dark eye circles and crooked buttons from hasting to be on time, Mark Lee looks like he jumped out of the fashion magazine you worked for. He was an editor, like yourself, yet the way he confidently strolled through the hallways, capturing everyone’s attention, had executives and employees alike toying with the idea of having him in their bed.

Mark’s shoulders looked even broader in the white shirt he had chosen for the day, neatly ironed and held together with a bright coral tie. A suede brown vest, that would look plain weird on anyone else that would dare pull it off, showed off his tiny waist perfectly, short enough for the workers on the welcome desk to whisper in admiration about his ‘cute perky butt’.

As one of Mark’s many secret fans, you wanted to join in on their giggling, but as his coworker you had to keep yourself from indulging in those dirty thoughts that kept creeping in your head. It was hard to deny this sweet distraction, that perks you up in excitement and turns up the heat of your body.  Like now, that he makes his way towards you in the main lobby, and you wonder how nice his pink locks would look between your thighs.

“Good morning, y/n”, he says when he’s finally standing in front of you, and you almost spill your mug filled with instant coffee in the sound of his raspy morning voice.

“Lee”, you address him almost coldy, but your smirk as you take a sip of the hot liquid gives you away. You can’t stop yourself from checking him out, his new high-end belt begging to be tugged on and used in other ways that it was originally made for. He bites his cheek when he notices your eyes laying on his crotch a second too long but he decides not to mention it.

“Are you going on a cigarette break soon?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes before making sure to lower your voice. “Didn’t you hear yesterday’s briefing? New boss is trying to cut them and apparently so must we. No smoking allowed here anymore.”

“Then you chose the wrong outfit”

He seems satisfied with the little yelp you let out, internally scolding yourself for getting so worked up over his compliment but hell, there’s nothing more you want than to fuck that smile off his face. If that’s what he wanted that’s what he’d get, but you refuse to look all fucked out here in the open just from the mere words of Mark Lee. Not when so many of your assistants were watching.

“We got assigned the lingerie issue together”, you change the subject and start walking towards your offices at the end of the floor. “ I need you to show me your picks later”

“It was hard finding anything worth including, except for Savage X Fenty nothing new is in the game. The La Perla designs are so outdated, and don’t get me started on Fleur du Mal.”

“Wow, you seem to know a lot about lingerie, huh?”, you exclaim, genuinely impressed, and you let him bask in his pride for a little. He runs his fingers through his hair and you catch a whiff of his shampoo, its scent coupled with his cologne highly addictive.

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DIVINE TIMING💫

SUMMARY: you confessed to your longtime crush, donghyuck, back in high school because you figured you guys would never see each other again. you begin to question your faith in the universe when you run into him on a rainy tuesday night, and you start seeing him every day after.

GENRE: smau (some written parts), college student! hyuck x fem! reader, ????? to lovers, fluff, probably some angst but not heavy bc i’m sensitive, humor, lowkey she fell first but he fell harder trope, hyuck is a jealous little lad

WARNINGS: profanity, sexual and death jokes, mentions of reader being insecure, mentions of stalking, mentions of alcohol consumption

PLAYLIST: thinkin bout you by frank ocean, the spins by mac miller, intro (end of the world) by ariana grande, snooze (acoustic) by sza ft justin bieber , diana by one direction, midnight pretenders by tomoko aran

NOTES: hi !! idk why i chose a smau to be my first post but here it is🙁❤️ this is my first au of any kind on here so i hope yall love reading it as much as i enjoy writing !!

STATUS: ongoing ;)

（＾＿＾）☆（＾＿＾）☆（＾＿＾）☆（＾＿＾）☆

profiles (1): y/n’s crew🤍

profiles (2): hyuck’s crew🖤

intro: canon event or just trauma🥸

ch. 1: night shifts and feet…pics?

ch. 2: #freeyn

ch. 3: severe hallucinations or…?

ch. 4: call the coast guards.

ch. 5: goodnight streaks

ch. 6: me when i LIE

ch. 7: CHAT CLIP THAT !!!!

ch. 8: not to alarm anyone

ch. 9: i spy an attention whore…

ch. 10: i have this friend

ch. 11: the proof and the pudding

ch. 12: spin the bottle

ch. 13: lol lmao

ch. 14: i loveee smart emo boys

ch. 15: sassy man apocalypse

ch. 16: jaemin’s spirit guides

ch. 17: jisung and his inability to read the room

ch. 18: what the fuck is y/nhyuck

ch. 19: potato tomato bro

ch. 20: sir cuntington and his squires

ch. 21: hyucks personal issue

ch. 22: y/nhyuckism

ch. 23:

slowburning through the kitchen

pour some sugar on me | myg [m]

❥ Title | Pour Some Sugar On Me

❥ Pairings | Min Yoongi x reader

⤑ Summary | Being stuck in the kitchen of your aunt’s bakery late at night is the last thing you had in mind when it came to preparing for Valentine’s day. Although, being stuck with your archenemy, and the most overbearing person you have ever known, teaching you how to bake your aunt’s secret recipe is the exact opposite of what you’d ever have in mind. As the kitchen grows hot, however, you cannot tell whether it’s from the ovens or if it’s something else burning between the two of you. As the night progresses, you cannot help but wonder which one would melt first once you are done. The frostings? Or you?

⤑ Genre | Enemies to Lovers!au, Baker!au, Baker!Yoongi, Baker!reader, Smut

⤑ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

⤑ Warning | involving food play (with…a lot of licking), Yoongi’s tongue, minor dirty talk, sexual tension in the kitchen, soft dom!Yoongi, clothed foreplay, breast play (with some biting involved), oral sex (f receiving, biting involved; m receiving, deep throating and balls sucking involved), fingering, female masturbation, deep throating, cum eating, penetrative sex without protection, semi-public sex.

⤑ Word count | 14,3k words

⤑ Song Companion | Rendezvous At Two - Play With Me

❥ Author’s Note | Written as a part of Bon Appetit collaboration with @jamaisjoons, @yeoldontknow, and @chillingkoo | Many thanks for my hype team @randombtsprincessa and @softyoongiionly, some of these scenes would never make sense if it weren’t for you. And for my second set of eyes @theodea​, thank you for helping me even while you’re busy cat-sitting ;) | For my readers, I really hope you guys would enjoy this one. Have a beautiful Valentine!

Luck had not been on your side.

And honestly, no matter how much you hate to admit it, there is no denying that luck has not been on your side for a long time. If it were, you probably would not be here, stranded in the back kitchen of your aunt’s bakery shop, surrounded by the massive ovens that are still warm after the whole day of baking. Though there is no doubt that the temperature will only continue rising as the night is growing late.

Out of the tons of scenarios that you had pictured back when you had agreed to work alongside your aunt in her bakery shop, this is definitely not what you have had in mind. Not that you mind being here in the kitchen, doing what you love to do most. The only problem you have right now has something more to do with the situation you are currently being stuck in.

And with who.

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❥ lift, laugh, love

pairing: alonso "lonny" crane x named!fem!reader genre: fluff, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers warnings: reader is emotionless-type character, reader’s name is quinn, panic attacks, reader used to smoke, sorta emotional, making out sorta cause i can mUAHAHAHA word count: 1.5k synopsis: you and lonny get stuck in a lift and a few confessions happen.

it was a monday, probably almost everybody’s least favourite day of the week. everybody but lonny. all because this would be the day that a certain coworker would clock into work for their shift.

“somebody’s excited.” bud commented, eyeing lonny up and down. lonny rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. “i’m not that excited.” he sheepishly replied, “oh really? look, there’s quinn coming in.” at the sound of her name, the man whipped his head to the direction of the doors. of course, bud was teasing him. “bud!” lonny exclaimed, blushing furiously. 

the older man let out a soft laugh, patting his junior’s back. “sorry, sorry. was just tryna prove a point.” he apologised with a smile, lonny crossed his arms. 

“but, in all seriousness, you’ve liked her for four years now. when are you going to ask her out?”

“ask who out?” the sudden feminine voice startled lonny and he let out a tiny squeak before turning around. quinn was standing beside them, in her full tacky, orange, work jumpsuit, wearing her usual baby pink sleeveless tank underneath it. she had her eyebrow raised as she chewed on her gum quietly. “nobody!” lonny immediately answered, causing further suspicion but quinn wasn’t the type to pry so she dropped it.

she nodded slowly as she blew a bubble that popped, “alright.” the girl turned to bud, “anything to handle, chief?” quinn asked him, head tilting to the side. the man looked between the two of them before a grin creeped up to his face, “oh, yeah. there’s a problem with the auto-lock in one of the private offices on the 4th floor.” he explained, “why’d you take lonny with you and go check that out?” lonny’s eyes widened, not-so-subtly shaking his head and mouthing ‘no’ over and over again.

quinn grabbed the toolbox from bud’s hand, “okay.” she obliged, “come on, shivers. let’s go.” the girl gestured for the tense-looking, raven-haired man to follow her, calling him the nickname she’d deemed for him when they first met since he wouldn’t stop trembling.

“how could you?!” lonny whispered to bud, “you’ll thank me later. use this as an opportunity to ask her out.” he paused, “but also, the lock is actually malfunctioning so, fix that while you’re at it.” bud added before patting him on the shoulder and heading somewhere else to take care of his own duties. lonny took a deep breath in before jogging to the elevators where quinn was waiting.

the elevator ride was quiet, as everything usually was when they were alone together. quinn didn’t talk much, and that made lonny even more hesitant and reluctant to start a conversation with her, scared that it would end with her giving him a one-word answer.

looking at the man beside her, quinn leaned back on the elevator wall. “you seem tense.” her statement made him tense up even more, “w-what?” he cursed himself for stuttering, looking away for a moment to shut his eyes tight. “you seem on edge. more than usual.” quinn leaned her head to the side and stared at him, the tiniest bit of concern evident on her face. lonny slowly turned back to her but couldn’t look her in the eye.

“i-” a sudden rumbling cuts him off, the elevator was starting to shake before eventually stopping in between floor 3 and 4. “oh, shit.” lonny whispered as the lights in the elevator went off and they were stuck with dim-lighting. “huh. elevator breaking on maintenance workers, how ironic.” quinn commented, pushing her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

meanwhile, lonny could feel himself about to have a full-blown panic attack, feeling his heart rapidly beat as he hyperventilated. quinn noticed this. “lonny? what’s wrong?” she asked calmly before he sunk to the ground with tears brimming his eyes. “i-it’s too hot.” he frantically said, hugging himself. quinn quickly realised he was having a panic attack. “hey, hey.” she softly called out and kneeled down next to him, “let me help you take off the top of your jumpsuit since it’s too hot, yeah?” the girl cautiously reached out to grab his collar and gently slide the top-half of his suit down.

“focus on me?” she directed, trying to help him. lonny looked at her, not only her, but her eyes for the first time. “breathe in on the count of three. one, two three.” she counted down and he tried his best to follow her instructions. “i-i can’t.” he cried, closing his eyes as his tears stained his cheeks. quinn grabbed the sides of his face gently, “i’m here. you're not alone. you can do this.” she assured him and lonny slowly opened his eyes, staring at her. she counted to three once more and he breathed in, counting three again and he breathed out. they did this over and over again until lonny calmed down. quinn crawled over to his left side and slumped against the wall and floor, they fell to a complete silence.

the silence wasn’t deafening like the last awkward times, but it was rather comfortable. then, the girl realised something, “i think i swallowed my gum.” she confessed, the revelation becoming plainly clear when she didn’t feel anything in her mouth. the two of them looked at one another before bursting out into a fit of chuckles. “sorry.” lonny apologised, quinn shook her head. “don’t apologise. not the first time i’ve done it.” she joked, staring at the elevator door.

lonny was curious, well, he had always been, but he found maybe this was the right time to ask about it. “why do you always chew gum?” he quietly questioned, looking at her side profile. her expression didn’t change and lonny soon got worried, “i’m sorry if this was a personal question, i was just curious and i- i shouldn’t have asked-” “i used to smoke.” quinn cut off lonny’s rambling, not turning her head.

“i was… a really violent person back then. had a lot of anger issues, meltdowns,” she looked at him and gave him a small smile, “panic attacks.” lonny couldn’t take his eyes off her now that his question had been answered, and a long answer at that. “smoking relieved my stress. i needed something quick, something easy to get, wasted my money but it was better than buying more alcohol, right?” quinn let out a scoff at herself, “so, i started chewing gum to quit that horrible habit, and remind myself to just keep calm and not lash out so i don’t scare everyone i love away. not that there’s anyone left anyway.” she finished her explanation with a heavy sigh, the silence coming back again.

lonny continued to stare at her, even after she turned back to him. “what?” she asked in a whisper, “i love you.” he randomly blurted out, a crack in his voice. quinn didn’t say anything, and she remained indifferent. lonny could feel himself about to get choked up, “i-i’m so sorry. i-i didn’t know w-why i did that- said that! i didn- mh!” one more time, he was cut off as quinn had pressed her lips against his before pulling away immediately. “i love you too.” lonny was in shock, there was no way this was real, right? the woman he’s been crushing on, no, enamoured with for over four years was reciprocating his feelings.

“is this real life?” his question causes her to let out a giggle, something he’d never heard before but upon hearing it, it felt as though he was hearing the most heavenly sound he’d ever heard. “i hope so.” quinn chuckled, light red hues colouring her cheeks. lonny was hesitant as he gently placed his hand on the side of her face, leaning towards her, their lips barely an inch away.

it seemed as though lonny just needed a little nudge to do what he yearned for, for days, for months, and quinn gave that little nudge, softly connecting her own lips with his. moving along with whatever pace the other had set, adapting to each other’s rhythm. honestly, both of them had no idea what to do, they were both so depraved and desperate for an intimate touch. quinn moved closer to lonny, climbing over his lap before settling down on it, trying her best not to break their kiss.

when they pulled away, they rested their foreheads against one another. lonny was the first to open his eyes, staring at quinn’s peaceful and calm expression. “you know,” she started, her eyes fluttering open. “i think we should press that emergency call button so we can get out of this dark ass lift.” lonny snorts at that, wrapping his arms around her waist. “being here a little longer wouldn’t hurt anybody.” quinn shook her head with a pleased look on her facial features. now their longing looks, could turn into loving ones and that was all that mattered in the moment. 

and to think, this was all thanks to bud originally trying to get them to work on the door lock together to give lonny the opportunity to ask her out. could’ve just shoved them in a lift, shut it down and called it a day.