#1997yakul

[1997yakul]

Don't Leave Your Lunchbox in the Aisle

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Hey, you! Yeah, you! Stop there!

Na Jaemin needs a tutor before he’s booted off the basketball team and loses his chance at a scholarship. (and probably his mom's respect...) Can you help out?

You have a slightly awkward history, yet still maintain your unbearably ginormous crush? You're the perfect candidate!

☆ ☆ ☆ Sign up here! ☆ ☆ ☆

(masterlist) ☆ (nct masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: student!jaemin x tutor!gn reader

Word Count: 7,9k (one-shot)

✧ Tags: unreciprocated crush to lovers(?), angst, fluff, humor, kissing, pining, swearing, detention buddies yay, tutoring, slowburn, You Fell First! He Fell HARDER!(punches wall)

start + end date: September 21 2021 - October 6 2022

✧ Notes: this was written for my lil friend bongbong who likes a slice of the weird jaemin pie. Shes always hyping up my stuff and supporting me in my weird endeavors. Shoutout bongbong!!!!!!!

originally posted on ao3

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

There's something weirdly satisfying about the feeling of your sweated out forehead peeling off of your desk. It's sticky and kind of hot, probably due to the piles of blankets you shrugged over your shoulders in a fit hours earlier. 

It was a promise you made to your mother that brought you here, the brilliant plan to study at any moment of downtime and then take the exam when you got home from helping her at her work. It seemed sort of.. ingenious at the time..? Now, everything's kind of flipped belly up as you drag your finger in panicked circles across your trackpad. You did submit it, right? Wiping at one of your eyes in horror as you wake your laptop up, there's this white box with black text that stands front and center on the screen before you.

'Assignment is no longer available. Click 'close' to return to classroom homepage.'

"What?" You whisper to yourself, eyes fluttering to the bottom right of your screen. The time reads 1:49 AM. Your hand falls to your desk with a thump, and the blankets on your back slide off pathetically. 

This type of shock doesn't send you into a full blown panic, not yet. Tapping the 'close' button, you exhale and watch as the page reloads. Searching for the 'Midterm Exam' assignment ends up being a useless, piteous effort. It's now listed under the locked 'Past Assignments' bar.

"No. I turned it in." You lean back in your chair, shaking hair back from your face as you give yourself another moment to think. "Yeah." It's kind of a lie, you think. Maybe just speak it into existence. Falling asleep in the middle of an online test is simply not possible. Not for you at least. Not one that's worth 50% of your grade. Not one that you were sure you already finished last night after you showered. 

*

"It wasn't submitted, I'm not sure how else to tell you this."

Sometimes, things just fall apart.

"I swear I submitted it. I did it when I got home last night."

Your hybrid schedule due to the pandemic has you at a socially distanced desk for 4 hours every Tuesday and Thursday, and the masks make it hard to see if your teacher has an expression of actual sympathy or just really needs to shit. Eyes alone are not enough to piece it together, you realize. He slips this red piece of paper onto the surface of your desk before moving on to the student behind you. 

It's asking for a guardian's signature of knowledge that you failed to turn in your midterm. 

Across the room leaned up against the far wall, Na Jaemin holds his red card too. He flicks it loudly, his eyes dashing over the brim of his white sanitary mask from left and right as students pass by.

'the desks are socially distanced but students are allowed to get up and walk around and talk to their friends lollll'

Incomes a text from Chenle from the front row, glittered with emojis of zany faces and tongues. 

'stupid af' He texts again, his head swiveling to face you to see if you're checking your phone. He turns back.

'how tf did you get a red card???'

You sigh, brushing hair out of your face before texting back.

'i feel asleep before i clicked the submit button'

'bruh' Chenle replies after a short moment.

'i heard if you do a sport or like lead a club or something the principal will just like let u graduate anyway'

He texts again, tacking on an emoji of a cat smirking.

‘i’ll be fine it’s just gonna suck to get my mom to sign it but she will understand… i got the whole rest of the semester Dw dw’

Your eyes go a little blurry with sleep, sneaking a glance at Jaemin against the wall as you yawn. He's typing something rather ferociously on his phone keyboard. His hair is dyed a chestnut brown, his roots grown out an inch in black, swept forward falling over his eyes. 

*

You have been on the same bus as Jaemin since your 10th year at high school, transferring from an online school experience suddenly after a move. Growing up with close to no one you could consider a friend, Jaemin was the first person who ever caught your eye enough to call it interest. He was peak ‘public school’. He seemed friendly, charming, athletic, outgoing— he was the stop right after yours and was always running after the bus. Waving his arms as he chased it down until someone in the back would call up to the driver to tell him he missed someone. It felt like a scene from a movie, like there was no way that he was not the love interest.

Never did he ever forget to shoot the bus driver this breathless smile as he took the stairs two at a time. So hopped up on adrenaline and determination it made your head spin. In the Summer, the humid mornings with the sun already risen in the sky, dribbles of pearlescent sweat beads would slither down his temples like cobras, and in the Winter, the sky would be dark and ominous and Jaemin would board with a cherry red nose, only visible by the bus' interior lights. Every morning you watched just for that same smile, and every morning each one was more charming than the last. You watched again and again, just to dart your eyes away as soon as he finished giving his thanks to the driver.

Everything changed, whether it was the changing of the seasons or the changing of semesters, everything changed except Na Jaemin's stupidly charming smile. Your pupils would fall to your bag in your lap to twiddle your thumbs and deal with these childish feelings that boil up and bubble over like a science experiment gone wrong. 

He was so super popular because of his endless prettiness and confidence. One time he came to school in a crop top and got dress-coded. He was even seen arguing with staff in the middle of the hallway holding the wrist of another student, bickering endlessly until the staff argued back with words just a little too big for him, words that left Jaemin just a little too quiet, and then he would just smile— laugh at it. The girl with him who had tears in her eyes over their failed attempt at a protest patted at his back for them to leave. He moved on, but never gave up. He would try again in a month. He was unstoppable. He’d lose with a smile.

That's probably one of the most disappointing things about the situation of the world right now. It may sound selfish and of such the tiniest amount of importance, but the worst part of the masks and the social distancing was easily missing out on Jaemin's smile each day. No matter if he was pissed off, shocked, confused, disappointed, he would smile that beautiful smile that would make you feel like projectile vomiting glitter.

*

Somehow everything he did was interesting. Attention-worthy. Your head lifts up from its downward position, relocating to face where you last saw Jaemin, but he's missing.

There's suddenly 3 messages from Chenle.

'after school today, let's go get snacks.’

'oh wait does the red card mean detention?'

'earth to my astronaut?? helloooo'

You sigh, running your fingers along the edge of the thick paper thoughtlessly. "Ouch!" Comes shooting from your mouth, your body jolting in your seat. Your blood oozes in a thick stream from the fresh cut on your finger, instinctually, you draw it to your mouth. The rough papery material of your mask presses to your lips, and shaking your head out of the clouds helps you realize the last minute you lost to your daydreams. There's a stifled laugh from the side of the classroom, and for a moment you split to smile back at them with your usual "Yeah, I'm kind of an idiot sometimes. It's okay!" reassuring aura, but this time it's not a friendly face among your acquaintances of peers, but Huang Renjun and Jung Sungchan.

There's something so unnerving about being laughed at by students who you just have the most powerful sense of superiority complexes from. It's not like they've ever been outright mean, but with students so judicious, sometimes they don't have to be mean to feel mean. Like they must just already have everything so carefully set up for them that they have not a single care in the world. Like they're above high school and probably understand how investing in stocks works (Cool people don’t understand stocks!) and have their life planned out til 40.

The worst part is that Na Jaemin is standing there next to them. His eyes fall flat of emotion, his face is angled down at his phone, but his eyes, heavy-lidded, are staring at you. Your hand slides across your face, arm covering your mask and its fresh blood splotch, turning your head to face the window.

*

Sometimes you wonder how Jaemin can deal with so much attention. With eyes that seem to always be on him. Of course your eyes were a part of them too… something deep inside hoped he could tell you thought of him differently. It wasn’t just that one day with the crop-top, before that he would get dress-coded everyday for his shoes. He would wear Converse, black on black instead of the dress shoes all students were meant to wear. He used to be given notes to bring home every single day. It took a month or two for them to just give up on him changing for them. Some people saw it as him being stubborn, or said it had to do with how much money his parents made, but you thought it was a small type of heroism.

Detention is packed, seriously packed to the brim, students overflowing the desks and crammed into all corners of the classroom. It's definitely not following coronavirus regulations, but at this point you're less than surprised at your country's 'safety in the education system' plan. More than anything in this moment, you'd pay to get a glance at Jaemin. Wherever he may be smushed, you just knew he must've looked amazing. It felt like an insatiable addiction to just take glances at him throughout the day, like, A Little Fix Here! and A Little Fix There! With a fresh mask on, you felt like you could take on the world, like, sure, you made a fool of yourself earlier– but he probably doesn't know who you are, so it doesn't even matter!

Your phone buzzes from deep inside your bag, and you begin searching for it instinctively before the instructor at the front of the room makes some lame call-out for you to stop. A mere "Oh, shit. Yeah." slips off your tongue before you lean back up to your desk, but your head hits the underside of the hard surface. The quiet class, filled to the brim with students, all turn and stare. Your hands fly to grip at the desk you just hit your head on. Today isn't one for the books, obviously.

"You're alright." Whispers from the windowsill, and your brain shuts down.

It's Jaemin.

His hand is atop your head, petting carefully.

You don't even know how it got there, or when all of this just decided to take place, but today is now absolutely the best day ever. Totally one for the books!

"Thank you." You whisper back. It's kind of coy and cute, and you don't mean for it to come out that way, but your nerves have encumbered you from saying anything even slightly self-assured.

"Take care of yourself." He whispers again, this time, it matches your tone. Bashful. "You hurt yourself a lot nowadays." 

"Oh." Comes tumbling from your lips before you can catch it, scrambling for words to act as a proper response to what feels like flirting. Is it flirting or just genuine kindness? So he saw you earlier, is this him bullying you? Why was it so sexy though? Is it Na Jaemin or is it Eros? Aren't they sort of the same thing at this point?

His hand falters from your head, and your own darts up to smooth down any misplaced strands of hair. Jaemin swings his legs back up onto the vent before him, leaning his back against a beam between two large windows. The room is quiet besides some whispering here and there, but before Jaemin can help it, he returns to face your desk again. His legs fall over the edge of the sill again, slouched comfortably. Thighs spread like syrup over hot pancakes, his hands running down his slacks until they pause at his knees, smoothing wrinkles as he goes. He's leaned much further forward now, and his breath is calm. Warm and subtle, he blinks through dark eyelashes and asks 

"Why are you so nervous?" 

Probably the worst thing to ask someone who is nervous. He continues, "Is this your first time in detention?"

You exhale deeply, there's not even an effort in trying to conceal it. It's like a boulder has just been heaved off of your chest. He isn’t flirting, he’s just being nice. "I should've guessed. You have big eyes that look to explore, but you're keeping to yourself." 

Interesting. Almost poetic.

"Would you rather me talk to you?" You ask, suddenly feeling a chill up your neck. When were your eyes ever considered big?

"No." He answers, soft and serious before his eyes squint in laughter.

Short puffs of contentedness leave your nose in muffled exhales. Everything feels so right at this moment. "Same here." 

"Too bad." He whispers, this time, the hair that has feathered over your ear brushes against your cheek when his breath reaches you. It smells like coconut and spearmint, he chews gum behind his mask, which is obviously outlawed. You know he’s a rule breaker, but now he’s breaking rules around you… it’s sexier. He's flattening himself out even more now, practically folding to reach his arms to cross over themselves on your desk, head falling atop of them. "Have we met before?" He blinks up at you, kittenish and cute.

Internally, you are scolding your heart like a dog that jumps too much. Down boy! Calm yourself! But the ba-boom, ba-boom grows stronger, louder, and Jaemin is just getting closer, and closer. "I don't remember. I don't think." 

"You don't think?" Jaemin repeats, his beaming smile lights up his face, although he's got a mask on to cover the best part, it reaches his eyes easily. Somehow it comes with great beauty and delivers great anxiety. "We're on the same bus. You don't recognize me?"

"Oh!" You beam back with overzealous surprise, you big fat fibber. "You're on bus 127 too?" You nod, his Converse with the tears in the canvas nudging against your shoes. 

"Yeah. I thought we made eye contact a few times. I guess my face is more forgettable than I thought. Darn." At this point, his fingers are tracing circles around scribbles on the desk. It's so painfully obvious you've been caught and he thinks it's hilarious to see you suffer so immensely. He knows you've been watching him all this time, it's humiliating.

Something inside, lost in the depths of repressed feelings, clicks in that moment. Like, is this it? Are you just another privileged stupid asshole that has fun messing with people who fall for your amazing face? "Dumbass." You gasp, hand flying up to your masked face, eyebrows darting up on your forehead. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"Dumbass." Jaemin repeats with a scoff and a laugh. "I'm not a dumbass! You're the dumbass. I'm not blind, you look at me all the time!" He's whisper-shouting and some people are starting to glance over in your general direction. "Why would you possibly stare at a person so much? Because you have a crush."

"I do not have a crush, Jaemin. You wish." 

"So you do know me?" He leans back up against the window sill again, his right shoulder resting on the support beam. 

The teacher up front smacked the yardstick on the chalkboard twice, dismissing students in a matter of seconds. Jaemin is quick, his foot slamming a strap of your backpack on the floor. You look up, one hand around the free backpack strap, the other pressing down on your desk. You glare at him for a second. "Do you know my name?"

"Y/N." 

There's this slow motion moment of silence where you realize, "Wait, you know me?" 

"Since the first day back to school. Where you sat in my seat on the bus with your hair all sweated to your forehead and your lunchbox in the aisle." You stare up at him, maybe two or three inches below. Why is blinking suddenly impossible? "You had the baseball cap you used to wear, the red one." He motions a hand to the left side of your forehead, mimicking the brim of the cap. The classroom is empty, your knuckles whitening at the tautness of the pull on your backpack. "Let go for a minute." He asks, and it feels very genuine, so you do.

"I have to go home and study, like now. If I fail this class I'm done for." You push in your desk chair and look back up at Jaemin. "I would really appreciate my bag now." You lay your hands out flat, palm up. Somehow there's tears swelling in your eyes, and if you cry right now, that'll be super embarrassing. So you close your eyes to hold them back.

It's quiet for a second until two footsteps place Jaemin behind you. His hand envelopes a shoulder as he drags a strap over each one. It's scary how careful he is.

"There." He whispers, it's very quiet. "I'm sorry." He says, so quiet it's like he wants to not be heard. 

"Sorry." You return, opening your eyes again. The window shines in the brightest sunshine you've seen for a while, you blink a few times and wipe away wetness before turning around. He stands lanky and still, head hanging mysteriously low in shame. "Don't feel bad, sorry I didn't react like how you're used to." 

"I'm not used to any response at all, that was my first… statement."

"Confession?" You correct, and watch as his eyes trail back and forth between the tiles on the floor. His hands fiddle at his sides, fingers touching each other all over. You take quick steps and wrap your arms wide around him, feeling the back of his neck in one slide of your palm, his hands reaching back out just a second too late. "Bye." You mumble, prancing itty bitty steps out of the classroom before full-on sprinting down the hall. 

*

'youre so weird Wtffffff why didn't you like be normal omhgh y/n'

'i don't know it was so awkward i wish i was never born'

'but u hugged him AAA'

'it was so bad please i like ran away afterwards it felt like kindergarten'

'its okay dw you can try talking to him more tmrw!'

'i have to focus on school now tho? like what are the fucking odds that the minute i actually am being forced to do better in school is the minute the loml confesses to like, being interested in me…'

'fail the class, join a club. trust me.

HOLY SHIT Y/N, TWO IN ONE. JOIN THE BASKETBALL TEAM!!!

I kind of wanted to join too… and ur like kinda tall… i believe in u'

’chenle i dont like sports and there is nothing in the world that could convince me to join.’

'just do it trust me jaemin is the only good one so even if ur bad u will blend in… plus maybe u can be like omg Jaemin how do i dribble omg i only know how to dribble drool down my jaw staring at u mwahmwah and then he'll be like Oh same let's make out'

‘chenle.'

'hehehehe'

*

The bus ride is quiet, some gentle stirring every once in a while from the few seats behind you, but your heartbeat is all that you can focus on. The ride is suddenly so much longer than you're used to… every turn the bus makes in the direction of Jaemin's stop is a step closer to imminent doom. 

Today is no different from the rest, Jaemin is caught waving the bus down with swinging arms and curved eyes, boarding with a bow before making his way down the aisle. It clicks quite quickly where he is planning to sit. Normally he gets on, takes a few wide steps, and plops himself in one of the first few seats. His eyes find yours almost instantaneously upon boarding, his palms smacking the corners of each seat as he passes them.

"No, no, no, no, no" you find slipping out from under your breath as he nears your seat until he's shoving you in the direction of the window with a giggle.

"Hey, buddy~" Jaemin sings out, smiling dangerously through his mask. His legs spread out wide and his black converse position themselves in opposite diagonals, creating an obtuse angle. Feels like you're back in Trigonometry. Your eyes zig-zag between the seat in front of you and the window out to your right. Ruffling the front of your hair a little, you adjust yourself to face him, just slightly. "There you are." He whispers, his eyebrows smoothing out after a quick bounce. 

Your heart takes precaution.

"I was worried you might ignore me, actually."

You hum a little note. "I'm surprised you're not ignoring me. I thought you might've been embarrassed."

Jaemin contorts his face slightly, tilting his head to the side, leaning until it falls against the seat in front of you. "Embarrassed? Why? What happened? I'm sitting here because this is my seat. This is the first time we are speaking." He holds out his hand, offering it. “My name is Jaemin.” His other hand traces shapes into his right thigh, maybe it's a nervous habit.

"Oh?" You catch on quickly, "Nice to meet you, Jaemin." The bus slows into a full stop to pick up a few more students, they take wide-legged steps down the aisle. The boy in the seat next to you disconnects eye contact for the first time since he boarded.

Each small pothole in the pavement rattles the bus gently, but Jaemin turns the small tremors into earthquakes, making sure to knock knees and shoulders at every small jostle, side-eyeing your reaction at each touch. There used to be something so terrifying about thinking of talking to Na Jaemin, like he would be too cool, or just think you were boring… but it's so different now that it's been put into action. He's cheesy, and embarrassing when it comes to showing public affection. This bus-ride twice a week leads to many 'Scandalous Public Transport Assignations,' as Jaemin labeled them. Smiley, tossing winks and sometimes a Brownie Bite from his lunchbox. The 30 minute bus ride would feel like 2 minutes next to him. 

*

“Today, you should come with me to basketball practice.” Jaemin is downing his half of the blueberry muffin you provided him with, speaking with full cheeks. “You can meet the other guys, and…” He brushes crumbs off of his lap. “I want them to meet you.”

“Wow, that’s forward.” You look over to Jaemin, who swallows the rest of his muffin with a loud gulp.

“Too forward? Aren’t we dating?”

“DATING?!” You yell out in shock, which causes multiple heads to turn and face your direction. You pass shy smiles and apologize softly to some people near you, sinking further into your seat. Brushing a strand of hair back with your pinky, you bite at your cheek, trying to think of the right words. Jaemin is sitting next to you, shoulders tense. “Okay, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Patting him uncomfortably on the shoulder seems to do the trick! That is, if the desired outcome was for Jaemin to appear extremely embarrassed. “I don’t remember ever… agreeing to that.” You smile, and Jaemin’s shoulders drop significantly. 

“But we sit next to each other on the bus every single day.” He mimics a friendly wave, “And we wave to each other like this in the hallway!” Jaemin shuffles through his bag until he finds his milk carton. “And we give each other gifts.” His eyes blink rapidly, remembering something. “And you already hugged me.”

Your ears sting with hotness. “Okay, but those are things friends do too. We haven’t even been on a date, or ki...ssed.” Somehow it's hard to even say the word in front of him. Both sets of eyes fall to the floor of the bus. “I know we got close fast, but… If I’m going to date someone, even if it’s someone I’ve liked for a while… I still have standards.” Jaemin looks up and nods suddenly with determination. He brings his empty hand up from his side and offers his pinky.

“Promise me if I do those things, I can tell people I’m dating you.” 

Wow. It’s kind of baffling. He’s uncontrollably cheesy and really bad at stuff like this. Maybe romcoms have set your expectations for high school boys a little bit too high. 

“Okay. I pinky promise.”

“Stamp it.” Jaemin commands. “Sign it.”

“Copy it.”

“So dramatic…” You push his hand back into his lap and fold your fingers together. 

Jaemin is smiling.

*

Two weeks later, Jaemin frantically texts you 13 times in less than 30 seconds.

‘hhey y/n’

‘this isvery important’

‘Respondpls’

‘My mom saidtaking my phoneaway’

‘Bc failing english and’

‘Help’

‘y/n my bus buddy’

‘PLSSS’

‘M also fail math n scienc’

‘I have an iddddea’

‘REPSOND MYABY’

‘LIFE OR DEATH’

‘CALL 119’

‘WHAT????’

‘JUST CALL ME…!!?’

And so the phone rings.

“Hi, my baby. Here’s the thing, I have this great idea. And it will work. Because my mom doesn’t know about you-”

(Why doesn’t his mom know about you? Your whole family already knows about Jaemin! This is embarrassing. I mean, you have only been talking for 3 weeks, and you did say you wanted to take things slow, so why is Jaemin the one who’s treating this like one big-)

“Agree? It’s a good idea right? Then we can spend time together! Infinite dates!” Jaemin finishes, his breath pouring into the phone in loud intervals as he wraps up his speech. Unfortunately, very little was heard or understood, so a simple- “Of course! Let’s do it!” suffices to make Jaemin happy. 

The only downside is you’re completely unsure of what you have just signed yourself up for.

* It only takes 4 seconds with Jaemin’s mother to greet you with: “So you must be my son’s tutor!” to get you up to speed.

“Yes, Miss Na. Here to help with the classes he’s struggling in.” You beam, realizing you are ill-equipped, hands empty besides your special green pen with sparkly ink. “And, um, Jaemin said I should just bring myself- since he has his textbooks with him!” Scratching at your left shoulder, you hope she doesn't notice the bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Of course, of course. Well, come in, might I add- you are just as cute as a button! I set out some mango for you. You’ll be okay at the dining room table, I presume?” 

“Gosh!” (You haven’t heard that exclamation come out of your mouth in ages.) “Thank you so much, and yes, that’s perfect.” Peering past Jaemin’s mom as you step inside, slipping your shoes off, you notice that his house is much different from yours. The ceilings are very low, wallpaper is seen peeling at the seams, and the floor is scuffed where you stand. Although clean, this house is struggling. Jaemin is at the table, his feet curled up onto a dining chair, making the hole in his sock visible. 

“Now, do you have a running rate for your services? I know it looks like we don’t have the most money, but I work long hours and will be able to afford what you deserve. His education is everything to me.” Your heart breaks slightly, and you shake your head side to side. 

“This is just volunteer work for the school’s Honor Society, don’t worry.” You make your way to Jaemin, who’s smiling at you from his seat. “The most I might need is… a signature? To mark off my hours...? If that’s okay.”

His mom’s eyebrows bounce in amazement. “Jaemin told me it might cost a bit, so I was really prepared! Please, if you need anything, let me know. Thank you so much. I have a shift in about 20 minutes, so I need to be on my way. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She lets her palm slide down your arm and kisses Jaemin on top of his head, and then she’s gone. 

The door slams and you turn your head to Jaemin with fire burning in your eyes. “You were going to have her pay me?! What is wrong with you?” 

“You are seriously going to tutor me, why wouldn’t she pay you? I wanted to be fair.” He rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back against his neck. 

“But you’re-” your eyes scan the entryway and dining room, fist balling.

“Yes, we are not rich.” He sits up properly in his chair. “Doesn’t mean we just get out of paying for things that you are meant to pay for.” He shimmies in his chair. “We aren’t slimy, and don’t think my mom only took your offer because she was excited to get out of paying. She believed you. That’s why she took it.” His palms fall flat on the table as he hoists himself up.

“I don’t think that!” You argue, “Don’t say that. I don’t think like that. Learn to trust a little, Jaem. I’m your friend, I didn’t want to be paid because I’m your friend. She works hard and doesn’t deserve to have to deal with you failing all your classes because you think not trying is cool.” 

“I think trying is not cool? Are you serious? Is that the person you think I am?” Jaemin’s face gets bright red at that one. 

You stutter slightly at the sight of him angry. “I didn’t mean that. I just said it, I don’t know why.” He laughs like he’s really hurt, like he’s so baffled he ran out of viable words. You don’t think you want to be here anymore. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s study some English, then.” He sighs out.

You quickly learn that Jaemin is not the type to say something impulsively. That doesn’t mean he won’t crack a joke that objectively sucks or make a funny noise when he realizes he’s been quiet for too long; but rather that when he means to speak seriously, he will think it through thoroughly beforehand. He chooses his words carefully, even if they don’t sound carefully chosen, (his vernacular kind of lacks…) He just wants to be understood in a way where whatever he is expressing is exactly how he wants to express it. This is a great talent, one that you most definitely do not possess. 

You’re in the middle of analyzing a poem when Jaemin interrupts you. “I do try. I try really, really hard.”

“I know.” You say, quietly.

“No, you don’t. Because what you said earlier must’ve had some truth to it. At least from your perspective. Now, I want to explain my perspective.” He looks up to your eyes without ever moving his head. His eyebrows furrow harshly as he thinks, and then lifts his head. For the first time in your life with Jaemin, this is the first time he’s looked so serious, the first time he hasn’t been smiling. “You are one of the only people on this Earth; besides my mom, that I actually want to make proud.” He fiddles with his pencil before letting it fall to his notebook page. “Everyone works at a different pace, you know? I work slightly slower, and that doesn’t mean I’m not trying- it doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It just means that I need more time to figure this shit out.” He shrugs in his zip-up hoodie, feeling the end of its sleeve between his fingers. “Who knows, maybe my end product— whether it’s a math equation or an essay, is better written, easier to understand, is...” He displays his palms in a ‘you get it’ manner. “There are a lot of students who struggle the same as me. We all try. It’s just different for us— learning is different. Please don’t just assume I don’t try because I don’t do well.”

Your eyes trace along the lines of his face for a moment before looking down at the sentences on the book below you. “I understand. I’m sorry. I hated how I said that so carelessly. I-I am proud of you. I am proud of you for many reasons. I want you to be proud of me too.” There’s a little silence afterwards, just so he can think about everything, process it. He whispers a “Thank you” and you complete one more problem before he’s back to spacing his eyes around the expanse of the room. It takes a minute or two until Jaemin is back to smiling, but the pain of worry stings his eyes, obviously feeling more than he wanted to let on. He opens his mouth a few times to speak before shutting it with a shake of his head. It hurts your heart more than you expect it to. “I’m only worried if I lose my position on the basketball team…” He stutters for a second, motioning with his hands. Looking away for a moment with his palm over his mouth. “I don’t want to lose this thing I love, and I don’t want to let down my team, and I don’t want to… to lose potential scholarships or let down you or my mom.” He forces this extremely weak smile and twirls a pencil nervously. “So… I’ve got to give it my all.” You lean back in your seat, and watch him come to terms with the feelings he's realizing that have suddenly begun to overwhelm him. “I’m gonna tutor the shit out of you.” His eyes dart up to you, scanning over your face before a smile tugs across his lips. This one is real, like he believes you. His head drops back to the paper on the table before him. “Don’t worry. You’re not losing anything or letting anyone down.” You tap your pen onto the next essay question in his homework, “I won’t let you.”

Jaemin leans over the table far enough that his butt leaves his seat so he can wrap his arms around your neck and rest his chin on your head. It lasts for a moment, then he pulls back, scoots himself in, and picks back up his pencil.

*

That Thursday, Jaemin and you stay after school. He has basketball practice, and asks you to wait in the gym as he goes into the locker room to change. They don’t wear masks, you guess because it could be hard to play with them on. There’s already a few guys dribbling a ball around and chatting while they wait, their shoes squeaking intermittently. “How do you know Jaemin?” One of them asks, you don’t recognize them from any of your classes, but Sungchan stands slightly behind him, ajar, watching his teammate interact with you.

“Same bus, actually.” You throw a thumb behind your shoulder as if you’re pointing to the bus lanes. They’re actually in the complete opposite direction. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He starts making his way over to you. “Oh cool. He’s one of the best players we've got.” He nods, beckoning for Sungchan to come join the both of you. “This is Sungchan, and I’m Jeno.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” Your shoulders instinctively broaden, like some intimidated wild animal. They’re taller than you. Jeno… not by a lot, but Sungchan has quite a few inches on you. Jeno says some stupid thing under his breath, something like… ”Rad,” “Epic,” or  “Chilllll.”

Explosive laughter echoes from behind you, and Jaemin is jogging up in athletic shorts and a jersey. “So awkward, Jeno.”

Jeno’s face flushes, he smiles, spinning around in an embarrassed circle, flourishing with the ball between his fingers. “Trying to welcome your newbie, leave me alone!” He bounces off towards the basketball hoop with big bounding leaps.

Sungchan gives a weak smile. “Nice to meet you.” You nod back, if anything he seems more shy than intimidating now. Jaemin pats your shoulder, poking a finger into your lower back to get you to start moving forward with him. You trail behind Sungchan as a few more boys come out of the locker rooms, boisterous enough to get you to turn back to watch them trickle out. Jaemin smiles at you, craning his head over to you, blocking the view of the door. 

“I’m the cutest, trust me. Don’t bother wasting your time.” You smile back, turning forward as he pulls his hand back to his side. You believe him.

*

Jaemin texts you a picture of him with the rest of the basketball team, each one of them cheesing so hard that their eyes are all swallowed up. They surround their coach who in turn, holds Jaemin up on his shoulders. Jaemin has his fingers gripped tightly around a small trophy. You have to pinch and zoom in pretty far to even see the little gold award. Nonetheless, all of the boys look ecstatic.

‘Yessss!!!!!’ you text, littering the chat with confetti poppers and balloons.

He responds with a close up picture of him pouting his lips. ‘Where do you want it?’

You pull up your blankets out from under you, nuzzling your cheek into your comforter. ‘butt’. You type out, searching frantically for a gif after the read receipt pops up.

‘Your wish is my command.’ He responds, signing off the text with an emoji of a peach followed by one of a kiss. You smile big.

*

Jaemin is the same as always at school, only sometimes he glances over at you, mid-conversation with a friend and nods a slight smile, even across the entire room you never miss it. It’s low effort, but it feels like the best thing in the world. It makes you think to those bus rides where you didn’t know him at all, and how each season he looked more boyish than the rest, floppy and carefree and completely exasperated by his sprint to the bus doors. It was flashing shades of red and white and you wonder what he looks like now. You think to yourself how lucky you feel now. You don’t look away when he boards, or shy away behind the person’s head in front of you. He looks for your eyes and locks into them before you have time to pull your backpack into your lap. He’s calmed down now, like he understands you better and isn’t just being loud to cover up hidden worries. He squeezes up close and leans his head on your shoulder, he’ll lay his head down on your lap, and he will grab and hold your hand like it’s everything he will ever know. The red glow of the interior bus lights slide over the side of his face like a painting and he whispers homework answers like love poems. He’s easy, like it was always meant to be this way. You wonder how you ever lived without him.

*

It’s nearing the end of the semester now and tutoring Jaemin has been enlightening. His mind is beautiful and he never fails to surprise you with his specially hidden sensitive brilliance. It's dark when you finish up Jaemin's English packet and his mom arrives home with a noodle dish in a plastic to-go box. She sets it on the table and pushes it between the two of you. "I just ate some on the bus home, so I'm full. You two can share if you'd like. Again, Y/N, thank you so much for your kindness. I can sign now, then I'm off to the shower." She smiles. Jaemin gives a side glance that just screams 'She's never that nice to me!' And you can only reassure her that it's no issue, and Jaemin is a determined, creative learner. His ears blush with a saturated pink when his gaze shifts from his mom to you. His mom signs off on your paper and shuffles into a dark hallway behind the both of you.

"No way you actually believe that…" He fiddles with his warm ear between his index finger and thumb. 

"Of course. You go after what you want." 

Jaemin laughs and his hand falls into his lap. "Right, just very very slowly." You're packing up your textbook as you shoot him a smile.

"And? You said it. Different paces, it's alright. You have such a fun way of going about answering things. You can see in your work that you see the world differently from everyone else. You see it with hope.” You pluck the pencil from Jaemin’s loose fingers and tuck it into your pencil case with a smile. “You're smart."

His eyes light up. "Wow, no one has ever said that to me before. I could kiss you right now."

"But… should you?"

"Should I not?" Jaemin has this smile that glides across his face and eyes blink slowly, like a cat showing its affection.

“You can, if you’d like.”

Jaemin laughs sharply, rocking back in his seat with his palms pressed firm against the edge of the table. His smile falters into a downturned expression of focus. “No, because— I’ve dreamed of this…” He stands out of his seat, turns around and paces a few times across the dining room and through the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, standing up to watch him. “Jaemin.” You place your pencil case on the table, folding your arms as he continues pacing.

“Wait, I can’t do it now. Give me like, 5 minutes.” He pauses, turns, faces you, and points. “I need to get you by surprise.” Then continues walking back and forth.

“I don’t want to be kissed by surprise, I want our first kiss to be…” You motion with wide swinging arms. “Like, kind and…” Your hands cup and cradle the air.

Jaemin stares, nods slightly like he’s factoring in a few different possibilities and outcomes, and then returns back to his seat. You stare down at him for a second, and his eyes flicker up to you for a moment before returning to his homework. He spins a pencil around and between his fingers.

“I want to like… make out.” You say softly, watching him from above. He stops pacing for a second, processes, then continues. “I want to… touch you all over.” Your stomach turns harshly, and Jaemin freezes again, his body still. “I want to have—”

“Y/N! You’re still here. You’re usually on your way home by now, aren’t you?” Her voice is slightly stern, your eyes bulge and flicker between Jaemin and his mom. Neither of you dare to move. Your logic is: Maybe if you’re super still, she will forget the last 10 seconds.

It does not work.

She clears her throat, and you see her hair wrapped in a towel, pajama-clad figure just in the corner of your peripheral vision. You think you might pee yourself out of fear. “Need anything else signed? A ride home?” You can only shake your head slowly before turning and swiping a few papers into your backpack, gathering it up and walking to the door without ever glancing back at Jaemin. 

“We’re dating. I’m their boyfriend.” He spits out, Jaemin’s voice makes your head whip around, and your eyes skip back and forth between Jaemin and his mom. Your heart is beating out through your ears. “We were going to kissssss...” His words fizzle out and his eyes shift between his mom and you as you attempt your daring escape. He points down at the table, finger pressing into a notebook. “Go.” He whispers, and you both sprint out the door.

The moonlight cuts through the trees as you walk down the street. Jaemin doesn’t usually walk you home, but since the sun has been setting earlier and it’s getting colder, he has been occasionally joining you. He hooks your elbows like a barrel of monkeys. 

Jaemin laughs so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “I thought she was going to actually strangle you, throw your body across the room like a doll.” You lean forward and back again as you laugh, Jaemin steps heavy with tireless energy and silent laughter casts over the street.

“We’re-dating-I’m-their-boyfriend.” You mock him, and he shoves you with a shoulder off the curb. You try to catch yourself, pulling your hands out of your pockets a second too late. Jaemin grabs your arm and pulls you back to him, shouting apologies up until you can steady yourself. “You’re so cute,” you whisper. He pulls you into his chest and you lock eyes for a moment, it’s almost romantic before you stick your pinky in his ear. At this point, you’re sure you’ll keep sabotaging yourself out of this excitement until you’re both 80. It makes his shoulders jump and his neck go limp, his arms noodling and recoiling away from your touch. You both laugh until you make eye contact again.

“I like you. I really do. A lot.” He gushes, his fingers sliding their way up your sides to pull out your ears.

“I like you when you’re ugly.” He pushes your nose up, snorting like a pig. “I like you when you’re beautiful.” He lets his fingers trace down your neck, kissing you twice, chastely on your jaw. “I liked you when you took my seat on the bus.” He folds a hand around your wrist. “And I liked you when you left your lunchbox in the aisle.” He kisses again, another time on your cheek.

“But I like you the most, the absolute most…” He kisses your bottom lip, giggling as he moves his way up, angling himself with a slight bend to his knee “…when you like me too.”

☆

(masterlist) ☆ (nct masterlist)

[1997yakul]

chapter 3: The Wolf

Men With Cold Exteriors and Kind Hearts, Among Other Great Sights

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥

summary: After getting a handle on things at your new job and putting your deposit down on your first apartment, you finally feel like you're proving your worth to the adult world. Only, is your catlike, hot, new boss (that smells too good) going to be an issue? Or, will it be the buff, delicate-mannered, heavy lifter that somehow just became your roommate? Either way-- this is fine, everything's okay, because you're grown now and you can figure it out....

Right?

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: boss!changkyun x gender neutral reader ('pretty girl' is used once…sorry I simply couldn’t resist)

Word Count: 5.4k (chap1, chap2, chap3)

✧ Tags: chose your ending!, angst, humor, kissing, swearing, almost sexy time, absolutely broken changkyun iykyk, self doubt/worry/fear, alcohol consumption

✧ Notes: changkyun's ending !!! yippee enjoy

initially published on ao3 on july 11 2023

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

Right as the door shuts, you wag your finger repeatedly at Hyunwoo and he throws his arms up in an accusing manner, bobbing his head saying “He did not hear me!” before getting interrupted with your hand clamping over his mouth.

“He literally turned around! And you are too loud! Still!” He laughs, backing out of your hand.

✱

Kihyun and Chaeyoung meet you at the bus stop the Monday after and are cracking up at videos they took of each other at karaoke. There’s a small pang of sadness, courtesy of FOMO.

And then it swallows itself with warmth at the memory of a ride home from Changkyun.

Sitting alone in the seat across from them, you ask to see the videos. Kihyun is belting out some sad ballad and Chaeyoung is recording, creating a very unstable video that trembles with each one of her bouts of laughter.

Kihyun’s eyes widen after you share some of your night with Changkyun to them. Chaeyoung gasps, huddling close and in a hushed voice says, “No, dude— you’re literally dating at this point.” She points to you, shaking her head slowly. Kihyun agrees, mumbling about how shocked he is that anyone could get Changkyun to loosen up.

“I don’t know, I think we are like… friends now. He told me to call him by his first name.” You say, fumbling with a zipper on your bag. Kihyun and Chaeyoung laugh, shocked beyond words. “I’m serious! I’ll show you, I swear.”

By the time you arrive at work with Kihyun and Chaeyoung, Changkyun is in his office, only the top of his head visible upon entry to the floor. It’s the first time since he transferred here that you’ve come in and the shades have been drawn open on his office windows. His head ducked down so you can only see the slicked black hair slide down the back of his nape, feathering out before the collar of his shirt. He wears this grayish suit, a shade of purple peeks from under his ironed suit jacket. It’s powerful, maybe a muted prussian. The light enters the office from behind him, a window perfectly positioned for a view of the entrance. You’re sure it comes with a direct line of vision to his car. You wonder if Changkyun is one of those men that calls his car his ‘baby’ and boasts about it to other higher-ups using explicitly feminine terms in a grimy sort of fashion. You hope he doesn’t. You decide definitely not, but eventually remind yourself that men always seem to; slowly but surely— ease you into their very secretive misogynistic tendencies only after you’ve started really getting to know them. You’ve had your fair share of Tinder dates fall off the deep end because it turned out that ‘non-political’ just means ‘extremely right leaning, but I know if I set it as this I would get absolutely zero pussy. I’m compromising. Surprise! Let’s talk about Ben Shapiro for an hour at this janky pizza place.’ But, he’s certainly not like that… Well… Okay. Chill out. You don’t really know him, stop assuming. This is what happens when you let yourself indulge in your imagination.

You sit down, logging into your computer and clocking in. Chaeyoung says something about waiting for your ‘bestie’ to pop over, and just as she finishes her sentence, the door to Changkyun’s office swings open. He kicks down the door stopper and makes a b-line to your desk. Chaeyoung scrambles to sit down in time, gripping at her arm rests and accidentally launching a pen into the air.

It falls to the carpeted floor with a sad patter at Changkyun’s feet, a shiny pair of black oxford’s. He presses the toe of his shoe on the tip of the pen, flicking it up. He leans over and grabs it midair, his thumb and palm envelope it. Without ever looking Chaeyoung in the eye, he sets it on her desk. “Good morning.” She mumbles out, “Thank you, Mr. Im.”

He turns, laying his forearm along the divider between your cubicle and Chaeyoung’s. “Hello.” He greets, leaning over a little to meet your eye level better.

Your heart fills your chest, thumping hard enough that it reaches your ears. You swallow hard and turn to him. “Hi, Changkyun.”

He cocks his head a little, straightening up and adjusting his sleeve around his wrist. “Mr. Im, right?” He smiles, it’s a little too proud, and now you feel weak again. Kihyun’s expression grows weary. “Can you follow me to my office?” Suddenly, the calm sound of hushed voices and rustling papers halts, and a few heads turn to face you and Changkyun. Your mouth feels dry, and your palms begin to sweat.

“Sure, Mr. Im.” You stand slow, waiting for him to back up a little so you have more room to move— but he just holds his ground. You shuffle around your spinny chair until he starts making his way to his office, then you shove the chair aside and glance at your friends. They are both making crazy eyes, and Kihyun offers a shrug. You shake your head unknowingly.

“Close the door behind you, please.” He says, his voice always grumbling lowly, and you follow his cologne like it comes with a leash. He gives his shades a few twists, just to give a little more privacy. The room gets darker, and he pulls out the chair for you. “So,” he points to your seat before fixing his belt. He leans on the side of his desk, his name plaque new and shiny, gold. “I was wondering if you had any ideas for a company outing.”

“This isn’t about me calling you by your first name?”

He blinks a little dumbly before glancing out the windowed door, heads fire back to their computers at his silent command. “No, I mean. That too, but this means more to me.” He feels up and down his right arm. “Don’t call me that in the office, I’d prefer if we kept it formal at work, you know…” His eyebrows thread together, fighting as he tries to find the right words. “Please.”

You nod, two times very firmly. “Company outing, um…” Checking over to your right, Kihyun and Chaeyoung are peering over their dividers at you. “Well I know some employees really like karaoke.” He nods in agreement, his fingers brushing softly at the tip of his nose.

“And that would be fun, for everyone to go do karaoke?”

“Maybe, like, eat and then do karaoke? Just so it’s an easier warm up.”

He nods, motioning to the door. “Okay, thank you. I’ll take that into consideration.” You stand up, kind of bug eyed, and push the chair back in, leaving with your hands close to your sides. You let the door close quietly before speed walking back to your cubicle. Kihyun and Chaeyoung both lean in to hear what happened, and you wave them off, peeking back at Changkyun. He is nervously pacing around his office, his face adorning a stern, thoughtful look.

✱

It doesn’t take long for the plans to become final, Changkyun sets up a company outing for that Friday, saying it will boost morale and help him get to know everyone better.

Changkyun is about four shots in when he says he is done drinking. He’s got a red flush across his nose bridge and cheeks, and his jaw is looser than usual, not clenched or as serious as he usually keeps it. He says something along the lines of… “Finish this on your own, this is the best I’ll feel all night” or “This is the end for me, I’m perfectly tipsy.” You can’t exactly recollect the wording, but it does something to your stomach nonetheless. The IT guy who sits next to Changkyun laughs hard, obviously more drunk. He unbuttons the top two buttons on Changkyun’s shirt, saying it’s too hot for him to still be wearing his full suit. Changkyun agrees sheepishly, wiggling off his jacket and folding it over the back of his chair.

He runs his hands from his forehead to the crown of his head, stopping there for a moment to scratch a little at his scalp. His mouth fills up with hot air, releasing it through his nose. He rubs his knuckles over his top lip, catching any sweat forming and leans back in his chair. The front legs lift off the ground ever so slightly, and he unbuttons the third button of his shirt on his own. He grabs at the bottom of his papery button up and tugs firmly a few times, enough to get fresh air. His cologne trickles down the table, it’s warm now, usually cold. Humid, and slightly tepid. The room smells of alcohol and heat. Stuffy and masculine. Kihyun and Chaeyoung pass you a shot each, and you take them before your brain can conjure up a reason not to.

The guy sitting across from Changkyun laughs heartily before getting his words out, pointing a hand up in the air. “I have an idea.” He is as drunk as one could get, hiccuping embarrassingly between syllables. “Let’s just do, uhm… let’s all play Smash or Pass.” Changkyun wordlessly shakes his head ‘No,’ lifting an arm from his lap onto the table.

“I organized this, thanks to Y/N” Changkyun starts, his words soft and tender, hand movements flow wistfully. “This was meant to be a way for me to get to know you guys a bit better, I don’t want—”

“Okay, we all know who you’re smashing!” Someone shouts out from your end of the table, and Changkyun shouts back before he can process what he is getting himself into.

“Who would that be!?” He points at the guy asking, his eyebrows uneven and mouth loose. It’s quiet for a second, and Changkyun scans up and down the table to see if anyone really has the gall.

“Y/N.” Someone says obtusely, it’s a statement rather than a question or a suggestion, and a few other people laugh in agreement. Now the table has a weird air of uncomfortableness as people wait for Changkyun or you to respond. The only reason it’s not unbearably awkward is because you can assume not many people will remember this tomorrow. Chaeyoung laughs the absolute hardest, and Kihyun grabs at her shoulders to calm her down. Your body freezes, mid-sip and you blink once, eyes shifting to Changkyun.

His face slowly droops, eyebrows furrowing in a hurt way.

“You couldn’t get mamas in your dreams!!!” Chaeyoung yells, grabbing a wad of dirty napkin and throwing it limply in his direction. Her cry jumpstarts the ruckus once more. The tissue barely makes it an inch towards him, and he only evinces a weak snarl, recoiling ever so slightly.

“Chaeyoung!” You shout, setting down your glass hard enough that it splashes in the cup. “Stop that!” You are tipsy too, and the words can’t come like they would if you weren’t. You feel limp and defeated, and Changkyun’s expression is heartbreaking.

His jaw juts out slightly, his cheeks hollowing as he thinks, and the table grows quiet once again. His eyes scan back and forth down the table at the plates and glasses, shaking his head in disapprovement. “That is…” He stands up, pushing his chair back and stumbling around in his spot, the girl next to him puts her hands up to protect herself as he stabilizes, rocking back and forth slightly between his wobbly legs. He bites at his lip, finally scanning the faces at the table until he meets your eyes. You weren’t thinking about your expression before now, but from his reaction you can tell it was obviously some form of disgust. He shakes his head, “I’m really so sorry.” He says, and a few other people mumble out apologies around you.

He stands up, grabbing something from his pockets as he pushes the exit door open, and the table is met with the most awkward silence you have ever experienced. Two girls whisper amongst themselves, standing up and walking to the bathroom together. Tears spring just slightly at your eyes when you realize the importance of what just happened, and the effect it will certainly have on Changkyun and your friendship. The nice buzz is just setting in, and you stand up and force yourself to follow him out.

“Hi.” You say, gentle as you let the door fall closed behind you. His wide shoulders greet you before he can turn around, the few clicks of a lighter sound out before he turns to face you. A cool gust of wind passes you both by, and his shirt flaps harshly against his chest, his hair ruffled and fucked from him rutting his fingers back and forth through it. “It’s nice out here, wow. Less stuffy.” You smile the words out, hoping he’ll wordlessly agree to forget about the whole thing. He’s got a cigarette between his fingers and he looks down at you, silently. He huffs, exhaling towards the street so the smoke doesn’t hit you, but the wind brings it to your face anyway. You cough a little, eyes tingling as you lift your face up to see him. Tears have filled up his eyes to the brim. His face is dark, and he smirks slightly around his cigarette, using a free hand to untuck his shirt.

He chuckles, dropping his wrist to his thigh, holding his cigarette below. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, wiping his sleeve twice at each eye. You pull his arm down, fingers gripping at his sleeve. His eyes are red, cheeks still rosy. You run your thumb along his waterline, and he wets his lower lip. He taps a little at his cigarette, holding it down by his side.

“Shouldn’t I be the one crying?” You smile up at him, and he finally smiles back. You feel fuzzy. Light on your toes, you run your hand down his cheek, and he melts. His eyes close and his shoulders droop, face sinking into your palm, warm and calm. Two tears run down his cheeks onto your hand, splitting off down into the delicate texture of your skin. “You need this.” You whisper, and he smiles so slightly, face so tired and gaunt. You reach, slow around his waist up to his back, and run your hand down until his spine curves. He leans into you, folding over your shoulder limply. He says nothing, only settles into your body as his breathing slows. He uses one forearm to prop himself off of you, pressing his arm flat against the glass with a sharp 90 degree bend at his elbow, careful not to lean anymore weight on you. You would worry about your coworkers seeing you, but your buzz is perfect, he’s lovely, and the sheer curtains are doing enough for your own level of comfort.

He mumbles, folding an arm around your waist. “There’s so much I want to say, in another setting.” He’s heavy, but gravity feels fake, and there’s a lightness that encapsulates the both of you. “Just— just for now,” He exhales the last of his uneven breaths. “Please take your time with me.” His voice crumbles a bit, like he’s ashamed or knows it’s wrong to ask for this or behave this way with an inferior. The forearm pressed flesh against the glass drops, and he huffs, face craned next to your ear. He’s tired and mellows out over your shoulder, maybe it’s the first time he’s been this honestly exhausted with someone. Like the act is done and over. He’s not unapologetic about it, he’s just ashamed and tired. As if he doesn’t want to be perceived this way, but has realized he has no choice.

You can’t remember the last time you held someone who needed to be held as much as Changkyun. You wrap your arms around him too.

✱

A lot of the employees are missing when Changkyun and you return to your table in the restaurant. Kihyun is patting Chaeyoung on the back as she downs another noodle side dish. Changkyun’s demeanor is completely different, the last second you checked on him before entering the restaurant again, he was bent over and worn looking, like a worn teddy bear with not enough stuffing. Now he was tall and powerful, chest puffed slightly and eyes just a little puffy (he assured one of your coworkers it was the sodium). “So, karaoke?” He says, broadening his shoulders, finishing his suggestion by cupping his hands together. Kihyun mumbles something to Chaeyoung, but she yells out many mushed words of approval before processing anything he says.

“Shhh! It’s fine!” She fawns, twisting around to face Kihyun, who’s worried expression releases into satisfaction.

It’s not a karaoke session in Korea without Big Bang. Kihyun chooses something cheesy and melodic and Chaeyoung tells him to skip it before he gets a word out. They battle over the tambourine and Changkyun only joins in to break them up when Bae Bae comes on and he’s had another few drinks in him, he sings everything flat and his eyes bore holes into Kihyun as he helps Chaeyoung pull off her cardigan. The room is musty and hot, and there’s at least 8 or 9 of you smashed along the couch, exposed skin sticking to the sweating leather seats. Changkyun’s cologne still envelopes the room, and even if you close your eyes to calm down your bouncing heart rate, you smell him and the lavishness of his skin. The dry tobacco scent from his cigarette at the restaurant clings to him. He folds his fingers one at a time over your wrist to get you to stand, a limp tug like he wants you to get up, but isn’t telling you to. You get up anyway.

He points to you, singing T.O.P’s verse like he really means it, kind of wobbling around flimsily. He’s all goofy and sways around the hot room, and taking his free hand to touch those on the couch like he’s a genuine celebrity. You smile big, laughing every once in a while when he fucks up the lyrics and has to stop in his tracks and look back at the screen, having to hang up the charismatic facade as he figures out the words. Once he gets back in the swing of things, he acts like he never stopped in the first place. He’s hypnotic and beguiling like he has always been and rocks his head back and forth, exposing his neck, slicked with sweat like a sacrificial offering. He glances over at you just slightly when he sings “My body wraps around yours so perfectly” and you think it’s all profusely nostalgic, like maybe you dreamt of this as a dinky tween. The only problem is he breaks eye contact two seconds later and grabs hold of another employee and tugs at her sleeve to stand, but it's not like what he did with you earlier, this tug is demanding. He’s desperate. The irrepressible urge to scream grows in your throat, and you whisper to Kihyun that you’re going out to get some air.

It’s a good few breaths you take outside, like finally the cool air can hit you again like it did outside the restaurant. You pull out your phone to mindlessly scroll, just for a minute or two. The clock reads 22:27. Hyunwoo texts you a peculiar gif not a second later, it’s a very specific reference to a conversation you had with him earlier. It feels nice to know he listens so carefully. A gray bubble pops up before you can type a response. ‘How’s it going? Havin fun?’ You smile, your heart tugs a little and you feel grounded again. “Soooo much fun.” A voice grumbles behind you, and Changkyun leans over your shoulder, craning around your back and slipping his arms under yours, his hands folding over yours, fingers aligning as he begins to type for you. “Good?” He breathes out, and you have to turn your head away from him to calm down. Your heart thumps heavily, so heavy and powerful that it hurts, a low droning pain.

He doesn’t send the text before you can turn back around to face him, and he steps back a bit to stabilize himself. You hold your thumb on the backspace until each word disappears, and your eyes meet Changkyun’s for a moment before you look down to your feet. They’re heavy-lidded now, and his hair is still all sorts of fucked up. Your heart pumps at an unbearable rate, and you can hear your pulse through your ears. “Stop being so…” he exasperates, threading a hair behind your ear. Leans in, close enough for his breath to tickle, “…scared of me.”

You have to stretch a little to shake off the haze that’s settling over your mind, and his hands drag from under your arms down to the top of your hips, and they settle along them like they were made to be there all along. You open your mouth, but nothing that your brain skims through can accurately reply. “Okay.” You nod up at him, like you only know obedience.

He dips his head back down, his bottom lip drags over your neck, and he kisses you there once or twice. He lets out these soft little sounds like he’s too excited for words. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles. “Fuck, so good. So pretty.” Your hand grazes over his neck and slides down until your thumb traces over his collarbone. He kisses less sloppy this time, on your neck again, on your cheek, on your jaw. Avoiding your lips like he’s saving them for later.

He’s been doing shots, you think. “I’m so grateful that I met you.” He whispers over your ear, and his arms wrap further around your waist, inching back up. “You know, earlier…” He starts, carefully, like it’s a sensitive topic that he doesn’t mean to offend with. “Thank you for understanding.” It’s weird, you think. He’s being endearing, or at least he’s trying to. You can feel him in his suit pants and he’s just growing harder. You push him off slow. “It’s okay, yeah?” He’s so drunk he’s barely awake. You can only bite at your lip and look away. More than anything in the world, you would like to fuck Changkyun. Even just once, even if it made your job so much harder and so much more awkward after. You just think it would be so good that it would all be worth it. But he’s too drunk, so you can’t. “I’m drunk, I’m drunk. I really like you, if you like me…” His words get sloppier and guilt pits in your stomach heavier than you can handle. You push him with two fingers back further like you’re really annoyed now, he has to stabilize himself by gripping a railing. You head back inside.

✱

Changkyun is an enigma. It seems with everything in his career, he faces it head on. With you, he’s careful, would never expect a clear answer or decision unless it's statistics on a file. Ever since that night at karaoke, he's cowered away in humiliation. You’re sure he wants you both to forget the whole thing, but it's so difficult with the words he spoke to you circling your head like the last drops of water down the drain. It takes a week before you realize that he’s not going to address the situation on his own, and if you want something to give, you're going to have to be the one who initializes the first push.

You fake overtime, knowing he usually stays later than the rest of you, you text Kihyun and Chaeyoung that you’ll call them after you speak to him and let them know all of the details. As soon as your last coworker wishes you a good night and the elevator doors close before her, your stomach pits like you've just thrown yourself into the lion’s den. It's the worst mistake you've made, and terror envelopes your entire system. You tell yourself in 15 minutes you’ll go knock on his door, sliding headphones on to calm yourself down. Shuffling a playlist a few times, you focus on your breathing while putting some stray pens and papers back into your filing drawer. When you hear Changkyun’s office door open way sooner than expected, your throat dries in an instant, your eyes glued to your desk and you work on trying to become as small and unnoticeable as possible.

His voice penetrates the wall you've desperately tried to build, and you turn quickly to face the direction it comes from, pushing off your headphones so they can fall around your neck. It's only then you realize that your music was never connected to them. You stand out of your chair suddenly. Changkyun looms, his silhouette shaded, one of the few light sources in the room is a lamp behind him. You cock your head slightly at him and he repeats himself: “Narcos.”

Your eyes flicker to your phone, and he's right. You were listening to the Narcos theme, outloud. “Sorry. I thought my headphones were–” Changkyun’s lips frown, and he shakes his head in disapproval, his arms folded over his chest. So you cut yourself short, grabbing your bag in a rush to just get out because the whole thing felt like a mistake.

“Do you know what the lyrics are about?” He doesn't try stopping you from packing away your things or help you clean up, he just watches with arms crossed. You shake your head, slowing down movements, trying to process the situation. “Drowning fear with love.”

“Why didn't you come to talk to me?” You surprise yourself with your sudden outburst, pinching yourself in the thigh.

He sighs like he’s been preparing what he’s about to say. “I overstepped. If anyone was going to reach out again, it should not have been me.” Your heart tugs because he's thought it out and was respectful and right. He was right.

“Why'd you have to drink so much?” Your eyes trace over the darkness that has hidden him so well.

You can hear him smile, and the song still plays behind you. “Because I’m smitten for someone I shouldn't be.” His head tilts down to his shoes on the carpet, a few strands of his slicked hair fall forward. Your heart feels like it's on a linear path to explosion. “Someone I have too much power over already.” He inhales deeply, and you move slowly to face him, releasing the pen in your hand.

“They make me nervous. I care a lot about how this person sees me, and I was worried they saw me as too uptight. So I did the only thing I knew would make me less uptight. Like a jackass.”

“Well doing that to me was the most jackass thing you've ever done, so you’ve got your worries in the wrong place.”

”Smitten” lt tingles in your stomach.

“I’m sorry. I know.” He steps forward twice until he can be illuminated by your desk light, and he looks magnificent. His eyelids hang heavily and he has dark bags under his eyes. The curve of his back as he looks down, his dress shirt flexing over his shoulders as he reaches to put the pen in a cup. “It was gross. I’m a dog.”

“No, idiot. No. You’re so stupid.” You pull the pen back out from the cup and slap it back onto your desk. His eyes light up, widening at your reaction. “You’re not a dog. You made me want you when I couldn't have you.” Changkyun has to tilt his head back slightly to give you room to come closer. “You made me worry for you and then disappeared like you didn’t need me. You’re a cat.” The song slows to a complete halt and the office is completely silent besides the air conditioning stuttering to keep up.

“I do.” Changkyun whispers. “I do need you.” His fingers float around your head like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch. “You wanted me.” He says, and you’re unsure if it’s a question. You don’t care, you nod anyways, pulling his hand to your face like he did to you a week ago. “Pretty.” He mumbles, tilting his head to get a better view. You can barely keep your eyes open, and he places his other hand on your cheek before pulling you close to him again. Back into his embrace, where his cologne suffocates the air around you. You’d be happy to only breathe this air forever. “You’re so pretty.” He wraps an arm around your waist, holding tight enough that your hips push into each other, colliding dully. This time his words aren’t slurred, they’re just kept quiet, like a secret meant to keep between the two of you. “I’m your cat.” Your heart pounds against him, and he pulls both of his arms around to your back so he can take off his watch, sliding it off and setting it on your desk behind you. He lifts you up by your thighs and rests you next to it, your fingers brush the cool metal as you stabilize yourself.

He backs up for a second, just so he can scan over your face for any implication you don’t want him. “I’m, really…” He laughs, looking at his feet before centering himself on you again. Feeling at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I’m really smitten.”

“Prove it.” You whisper, and Changkyun steps forward again, smoothly sliding a palm around the side of your neck, leaning in slowly, eyelashes hiding his pupils.

“I did already. Don’t you remember when I tried to fuck you after singing?” He smiles, proud of himself now for being able to keep his impulses at bay. You let your head loll from side to side like you’re deep in thought.

You hum a note of approval, “I would’ve let you if I knew you could’ve kept it up for more than a minute. It never lasts when you’re that drunk.” Your fingers brush down the side of his cheek, and Changkyun’s eyebrows thread conspicuously. He situates himself deeper between your legs.

“Let me make it up to you.” His palm lands on top of your thigh, brushing up and down. “You’re too perfect.”

You stare at him, angled down just a little from your seat on the desk. “What did you say earlier…” You prod, pushing Changkyun back an inch with a hand on his chest. “Called yourself a kitty. My kitty”

He shakes his head this time, whatever to get his point across, he’ll take. You drag your nails down the side of his neck, leaning in to press kisses on the opposite side, and needy noises fall from his lips. His shoe twisting into the carpet, he leans further in again, grabbing a fistful of ass as compensation. You make your way over to his lips, finally fulfilling the need. He nips quickly and sharply at your bottom lip, his hand forking through your hair. “Fuck” he groans, “fuck me.” “Please.” His voice mellows out as his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket. You sigh deeply, dropping your face to your hands, his face hot and legs tangled up in his. You pull away at the same time he does, checking it quickly before ending the call without ever picking it up. His pupils are blown out, cheeks are a bright pink, lips plumped and a little shiny from your makeup. You pat at his hair, rutting through knots with your fingers.

“I made dinner reservations for us because I had planned to apologize. Like a boss would.” He catches the hand on his head with his own. “Not how I expected today to go.”

“I’m hungry.” You shrug with a smile, and he eyes you completely baffled. He stares for a moment before shrugging.

“I’m with you.”

“Let’s go, Kitty cat.” You slide yourself off the side of the desk, fixing your skirt as Changkyun fixes your hair.

He halts his hands before letting them fall with a pinch of one of your cheeks. “Don’t let that be a thing, please.”

✱

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2: "The Bear"

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

[1997yakul]

chapter 2: The Bear

Men With Cold Exteriors and Kind Hearts, Among Other Great Sights

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙

summary: After getting a handle on things at your new job and putting your deposit down on your first apartment, you finally feel like you're proving your worth to the adult world. Only, is your catlike, hot, new boss (that smells too good) going to be an issue? Or, will it be the buff, delicate-mannered, heavy lifter that somehow just became your roommate? Either way-- this is fine, everything's okay, because you're grown now and you can figure it out....

Right?

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: roommate!shownu x gender neutral reader

Word Count: 6.1k (chap1, chap2, chap3)

✧ Tags: chose your ending!, angst, fluff, humor, kissing, roommates, tending to wounds (purr), swearing, almost sexy time, protective shownu, fear/worry

✧ Notes: shownu's ending =) enjoy pookies

initially published on ao3 on july 11 2023

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

Right as the door shuts, you wag your finger repeatedly at Hyunwoo and he throws his arms up in an accusing manner, bobbing his head saying “He did not hear me!” before getting interrupted with your hand clamping over his mouth.

“He literally turned around! And you are too loud! Still!” He laughs, backing out of your hand.

✱

Halfway through the week, Hyunwoo offered to make soup. (Again, this was the third time since living with him that he had offered to make a hot dinner while it was broiling outside) There is only so many times you can reject someone's kind offer before it feels just plain mean. "Sure, thank you."

He scrambles off to the kitchen and begins chopping. His apron is a bit small on him, and he can't quite tie it behind him because his biceps won't let his arms reach that far back. It’s a really cute sight, his fingers fumbling around the shiny ribbons until he gives up. “Do you need help?” You ask, hoisting yourself up from the floor, knees cracking loud. That’s what happens when you sit in an office chair all day.

Hyunwoo swivels around, eyes wide. “Did you just break something?” His apron twirls with him and slowly settles down on his front. You laugh a little while standing up, waving your hand to brush his question off.

“Do you need help tying your apron?” His eyes soften a little at the question and he turns back around with a nod, busying himself with chopping vegetables again. Your feet are quick and light as you make your way over. Maybe a little more excited than you should be.

“Maybe you should take stretching breaks at work, just to give your body a break” He suggests, his chin adjusting to touch his left shoulder, peering at you through the corner of his eye. Faced against his back muscles, you pickup the two ribbons and yank on them to get more taut. He stumbles a little, like he wasn’t expecting that strength to come from you.

“Good idea.” You smile to yourself, tying the ribbons into a neat bow. It’s almost like Hyunwoo is a neatly packaged present. "There, perfect. How pretty." He faces the counter again while mumbling words of gratitude, hiding his face away and panicking to busy his hands.

30 minutes later, Hyunwoo is waddling with a pot to set on the table, folding his legs up as he sits down. Peering over your laptop for a second to see what's up, Hyunwoo says something about it being his mom's recipe, but his voice fades away as the clouds of steam rise up between the two of you.

✱

Sometimes when Hyunwoo returns from work, the hardened base of his fingers bleed and he curses to himself as he opens the door. You know this because you always lean back in your chair when you hear him come in, peering over your glasses to see what’s up. He’ll shake his hand like it really hurts, and wince when he has to grip something, but still closes the front door almost silently. Looking up at you with a lanyard between his teeth, he smiles and shakes himself off like it’s nothing.

“There’s decaf in the pot.” You point with a pen, eyes tracing over his knuckles he slides into his pockets. He nods and smiles giddily, letting his shoulders bounce with surprising energy. “Are you okay?”

He drops his ID from his mouth, it jangles and pats softly when it hits his abdomen. “Never better. Whatcha working on?” He purses his lips, squinting a little over at you to see what you were up to. His lips were always made into a little knot when he was focused like this, trying to compute internally and failing. His hair spiked up from being pushed back and forth on a continuum throughout his shift, frozen with cooled sweat. It was your secret, but sometimes you think he smelled better after he worked. Like his usual aroma spent hours brewing for a much manlier, upgraded, natural cologne.

“Something for Kihyun, I owe him one.” Hyunwoo nods. Slides his bag over near the kitchen island, prompting you to stand up and approach.

“That dude hasn’t been giving you a hard time, right?” Hyunwoo puts on a pair of glasses that he left on the counter before reading instructions on a new brand of ramen carefully.

“Who, Kihyun? No– of course not.”

Hyunwoo squints over at you through his glasses, he's so cute like this. Gentle, his huge thumbs trying to make their way down the packaging to find where to open. “Not Kihyun. Your boss. He’s always in your business, trying stuff.” Hyunwoo croons.

You shake your head absentmindedly, and Hyunwoo pets along your hand to get you to look at him.

“I'm here, I’m going to be here. So if something is going to happen or happens and you don't want it to…” He pulls his hand back once he finds the slit in the noodle packet, ripping off the top of the plastic.

“You're jumping ahead! I think he just likes me.”

Hyunwoo smiles widely at that. “You're likable. But some men are dogs.” The gas stove clicks until it ignites, and he goes to grab a pot. “Hungry?” He starts filling the pot with water, checking the time. It's close to 11 P.M, he always gets home this late on workdays. Sometimes you wish your schedules fit better so you could see him in the sunlight, rather than the darkness or under fluorescent light bulbs. He still looked good nonetheless, it was hard not to with such a cute face and built body.

“You're not a dog?”

Hyunwoo hums musically, giggling at the end. “No way in hell.” He leans on one elbow on the counter and points to himself with one finger. “I'm a bear. Like a brown bear, or a grizzly.”

“I guess you do like salmon a lot.” You smile, pulling chopsticks out of a drawer.

He furrows his brow, feigning fake disrespect. “And I’m big and strong. Protective, not aggressive until provoked, generous. Great at relaxing.” His eyes light up, “You don't think about this?”

“Not really, should I? I don’t know what I am.”

“I think you're a bear too.” Your face contorts in a way you don't mean it to, and Hyunwoo reacts in an instinct. “Oh come on! They're awesome. Perfect mix of hardworking and lazy. They're so cute too.”

“You think you're cute?” You poke at him, watching as he empties the packets into the pot.

He nibbles at his bottom lip for a second, and puts the lid on his pot. Eyes flickering at the fire. “I don't know. What do you think?”

There's a moment of silence, just the comforting rhythmic slap of boiling water. “In an apron, 100%.” You smile up at him and he puts his hands up, shuffling around.

“No, where is it? Where is it?!” He laughs, failing his bit miserably and shoving your shoulder with one hand when he makes his way back to the pot. The shove is a bit too much and too unexpected, and you go flying before rubber banding when Hyunwoo grabs your wrist and tugs you back. Your laughing resumes when you can balance yourself, and the warmth of his fingers dance over your skin. He lets go earlier than you would've liked, and asks you to put something on for you to watch while you eat. He finds the apron and ties it loosely around his waist, something inside of you can tell he ties it that way on purpose. Just so you’ll have to get up and fix it for him, a pretty bow like before. You do of course, because he’s cute like that and you can’t help but touch him as much as you can at any given chance. It’s not scary to touch him here and there because he always seems to get a giddy burst of energy afterwards, if anything it lights delicate fireworks inside your stomach too. So, maybe you’re not much better than him…

The ribbons glide across your fingertips as you tie them around Hyunwoo’s waist, your mind in a reddish haze as you think of your last shared words. He called you cute. It was indirect, he was calling bears cute… and he was complimenting himself at the same time… but it was special nonetheless and your stomach fluttered no matter how far of a reach it was. Hyunwoo’s fingers brush against your wrist as you finish the bow, and you jolt at the sudden touch. “Um, finished!” You peep out, and Hyunwoo turns his head to peer over his shoulder.

“Did you hear me?” Hyunwoo says, curious before he adjusts his attention back to the pot before him for a moment, turning back to catch you only at the very edge of his peripheral, glancing back and forth nervously. You shake your head absentmindedly, stepping closer to him once more, leaning on one foot to check around his arm how the food was looking. “Oh” a breath escapes his lips, and his ears light up red, “I said,” his grip on the pot handle strengthening, mustering up his courage again. ”Tighter.”

He turns further his time, almost completely facing you, his glasses enlarge his eyes just a little, and it makes them a billion times easier to see how sincere they were. His pupils and irises blend into one dark shade. You scan over his nose and lips, breath catching in your throat when you realize Hyunwoo is frozen beneath your palm that’s resting on his bicep.

“Yeah, I can…” You mumble, pulling on one ribbon end painfully slow until the bow disappears. He turns back to face the stove again, the popping of the simmering noodles breaks the silence. You pull the ribbons again, this time keeping them taut, crossing them over as tight as possible. A breath releases short and quick from his nose when you finish the bow once more. You have to turn quickly to stay out of the overhead stove light. If you could see the blush on his ears from behind him, he would definitely see your face-wide blush if he turned back around, because who would’ve guessed tying a ribbon around a man’s waist would make you want to explode so badly.

Retreating to the couch, frantically looking for the remote. You break the silence with an afterthought, “I think you look like the Spirit bear. I see it.” He turns to see you on the couch, and smiles slightly, turning back to the stove and rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck abashedly.

When you both finish eating, it’s very quiet besides the show on TV. It was one of both of your favorite shows, so you always planned to watch it together after Hyunwoo’s shifts. It took a lot of convincing because he got home late and he knew you usually had to get up rather early, but after enough begging he had just given up and enjoyed your company, even if you didn’t have the energy to say much. He almost always carried you to your bed after the show, whether you were actually asleep or not was classified information.

Tonight was different though, because now Hyunwoo was knocked out with his glasses balancing on the tip of his nose and soft snores escaped through his barely parted lips, his head resting on the back of the couch, and his palms still holding his bowl upright in his lap. You clicked off the TV when the episode wrapped up, sitting very still for a moment, leaned forward toward the coffee table just peering at Hyunwoo through the corner of your eye. It was nice watching him sleep for a moment. He radiated a type of peace and harmony you thought was only possible through deep, cathartic meditation. You stood, lifting his bowl from his hands and watched them curl up around each other like he was wired to hold onto something indefinitely. For a second you wanted to take out your phone and take a picture, reaching into your pocket before your eyes caught sight of his knuckles. Always in the worst condition, Hyunwoo’s palms were often calloused, knuckles bruised and littered with small and tiny cuts, leaving his hands looking tattered and abused. This sinking feeling in your chest told you to leave them alone like he always asked you to, but you knew how heavy a sleeper he was and decided this was for yourself if he wouldn’t take the help. The living room was dark now, the only light source coming through the window to your left, the moon shining its baby blue haze down onto Hyunwoo’s side profile. You got a washcloth and began dabbing lightly at his knuckles, wiping them carefully as he slept. His eyelashes fluttered when you touched a tender part of his wrist, his eyebrows jolted slowly as he dreamed.

Only after cleaning completely and applying cold antibacterial cream did his eyes drift open, his hand was palm up in your lap, and you were leaned over, placing a bandage around his ring finger in a very tricky spot. He sighs out a smile, giggling at the sight. You look up at him guilty, biting your lip. You knew you had been caught, but after you were this far in there was no way he’d stop you now. “I don’t even want to hear it.”

“Sure, nothing out of me.” Hyunwoo let his head tilt back once more, pulling his glasses off his nose with his free hand, noticing his cleaned and bandaged thumb. He held it up so it could catch the moonlight, turning it back and forth to judge your handiwork. He smiled, his eyes dragging along each of his fingers until they landed back onto you.

“Shit.” He says suddenly, pulling his hand out of your grasp.

“What did I just say?” You grab at his forearm, pulling it back to your lap with both hands. “Let me finish.” Hyunwoo exasperates, pulling his arm back once more, turning to face you. His hair still spiked up and out, crazy in every direction and his bottom lip swollen.

“What time is it?” He looks around until his eyes find the kitchen stove, tilting his head down so his glasses fall back onto his nose bridge, he squints. “No, no. You have work in a few hours. You need to go to sleep now. What are you doing?” He started grabbing all of the wrappers from the bandages in his arms and hobbling towards the closest trash can.

“Stop, Hyunwoo.” You stand, a pillow falling off the couch as you stand. “I’m just not gonna go in tomorrow.”

“I said to leave my hands alone, they’re messed up and they’ll keep getting messed up.” He sighs as he dumps the wrappers into the bin, going back to the table to grab the few he missed. “Don’t prioritize me over your work.”

“How?” You raise your voice, and he slows down his movements until he reaches a complete stop. “How do I stop prioritizing you?” You’re both at a standstill, you at the couch and Hyunwoo in the kitchen. He’s silent, just staring and breathing heavily. You shrug, eyebrows twisted in confusion. “I give a shit, and I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” He looks at the floor before his eyes find yours, and it’s awkward and quiet for a second before he looks down at his left hand, unfinished. There’s a symphony of crickets chirping outside, and the sound of a car speeding by on a wet road interrupts the silence.

He exhales deep and heavy, letting his wide shoulders release all tension. “You missed this one.” He states, and you look at him, lost. “Between my middle finger and my index. I have a cut. It burns every time I stretch them apart.” Your eyes look at him, soft and you melt when he approaches, feeling along your forearm until he can place his hand in your palm. “I need your help… with it. I guess.” He chokes it out like the monumental pill it was to swallow. “And, thank you for giving a shit.” He avoids eye contact at all costs, blushing all sorts of crazy as he contains himself.

✱

Hyunwoo can’t take off from work like you can, so he makes the most of his morning with you before he eventually has to head out. You take a bus to the beach and Hyunwoo buys you fruit from a stand, its mangos and strawberries. Even though he promises it’s all yours, he still sneaks a strawberry when he thinks you’re distracted. You think it’s all fair though because he carries your shoes for you when you wade at the ocean’s edge. “You’re a really solid roommate, honestly.” You admit, picking another shell off the sand and holding it tight to feel the sun’s warmth.

It’s beautiful today, and you’re lucky because it said it was supposed to rain all day. You can only assume Hyunwoo is something like a special charm. Your personal 5’11 rabbit foot.

Hyunwoo looks towards the pier to smile, and his cheeks eat up his eyes. “You too.”

“I wish I knew you before. I wish I met you in college. I bet I’d be a different person now.” You glance longingly to the ocean, the sun is beaming gorgeously over the horizon. Hyunwoo hums a note of disapproval, his head whipping back to look at you, squinting.

“I never went to college, so that’d be a tough encounter.” You laugh, tossing a shell back into the water. It’s frigid since the sun hasn’t been up long enough to warm it up yet.

You smile, but there's a little pain behind it. “I don’t think I’d be stuck in a boring office if I knew you first.” You let your words sit for a moment, and Hyunwoo gives silent reassurance. “I was really worried about living comfortably, I didn’t want to move too far from what I was used to, worried to experience something I wasn’t ready for or equipped to handle.” You nod your head to the side, your hand resting on Hyunwoo’s for a moment as he adjusts his hold on both of your shoes. “Who knew a person could bring me that?”

He cocks his head to the side, listening intently with a pout.

“That comfortableness. That knowledge that you can do and try anything with someone you feel safe with. That nothing is too weird or too different when that sense of home can travel with you.” You stop walking to pick up another shell, rinsing it off in the ocean. Hyunwoo pauses next to you, watching with a smile. “How pretty.” You smile, turning into the wind to hold it up for the sun to hit it. “This one’s a keeper.”

“Definitely.” Hyunwoo reassures, brushing a strand of hair out of your face

✱

He’s not a man of many words, but his actions speak volumes. There’s something comforting about someone so big and strong watching over you. Even when he brings cake home for your birthday (he’s a month early) he hides his smile when hearing how thankful you are. His face swallows up his eyes and his shoulders bounce up to his ears, locking there for a moment. You don’t have it in your heart to tell him he’s got the date wrong. How can someone be so big and sturdy yet hide their face in their arms at the first word of gratitude?

He cuts out a huge square from the center of the cake, leaving a ginormous hole in the middle. It now reads ‘Hap thday’. You feel yourself getting choked up for whatever reason and wave off the tears. It’s not even your birthday... It’s not even your birthday! He got it wrong! So why are you so grateful? He watches with intent after placing the plate in front of you, wearing a comfy smile. He even cut out the best part of the cake for you. He was always this hedonistic, but when he starts prioritizing your pleasures, your happiness… It stings. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask why you’re suddenly crying or what’s wrong—He just smiles and passes you a fork.

You eat, slow and steady. The cake is good, but the frosting is a bit too sugary and you hope he doesn’t notice you scrape some of it off while you talk. “Do you have plans with Kihyun and Chaeyoung tomorrow? Or can we do something?” You nod enthusiastically, sliding your fork on the plate.

“No, actually! We should totally do something.” You stand, stretching your back as you look down at Hyunwoo on the floor. He sits criss-cross applesauce and smiles big. “Aren’t you gonna eat some?” You ask, walking over to the kitchen. “I’m gonna start brewing some decaf and then,” Hyunwoo turns his head to watch you walk by him. You point to the bathroom. “I’m gonna pee, real quick.”

When you come back from the bathroom, Hyunwoo is at the counter pouring two mugs of coffee. His mouth is stuffed full and he’s chewing carefully, cheeks puffed. You go to grab your dishes and clean up, but the leftover frosting is gone and the plate is wiped clean. He looks over his shoulder with a glance and swallows hard. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were going to finish it.”

You laugh, plucking the plate off the table. “No, you’re right, I was done. I didn’t eat the frosting, sorry. The cake is my favorite part.”

His eyebrows bounce in amusement. “Perfect! Frosting is my favorite.” He swallows the last bit of cake in his mouth, and turns to face you. He’s holding two mugs of coffee. They both have different designs, one is littered with silly paintings and sports the words: ‘World’s Best Grandma’ the other has the logo of a college you’ve never heard of. He offers you the Grandma mug— which is the obvious choice because it is cuter and your favorite color. “For you,” he extends his arm.

His veins pop at the flex of his elbow and he licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes shifting between you and the mug. Great focus shows across his eyebrows, putting in the utmost effort to make sure he doesn’t spill the full mug. “You have…” You point, finger circling around the air. “Frosting. There.”

Without a second thought, Hyunwoo rubs his mouth on his shoulder, jostling your mug and sloshing the coffee all down his forearm. He releases this sort of grunt from deep in his chest, and in shock, drops the mug entirely.

Both of you turn quick, trying to shelter yourselves from the blast, hugging your shoulders and both of you yell indistinctly. Some messy combination of ‘Watch out!’ and ‘Oh shit!’ spew from your mouths and you slowly turn back only after the mug is completely shattered and there is coffee literally everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, and all over Hyunwoo. Somehow, you are completely dry.

He whispers a very quiet “Ow.” That gets you to look up at him from the mess. He’s holding his forearm tight against his chest, and his shirt and pants are drenched. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, are you fine?” Hyunwoo takes a step forward towards you and a crunch sounds from below, his eyebrows furrow and he hops back on one foot, sliding backwards. He squats low enough just so that he can drop himself on the carpet, and falls back on his back. He makes another “Uff!” sound and you circle around the mess, babbling about 3rd degree burns and ceramic shards. “I’m okay.”

“Totally not, be serious.” You sigh, speed walking to the cabinets to grab paper towels and wet them with cold water. His foot is bleeding a lot. You try to think back to your anatomy class you took before switching majors, are there major vessels in the ball of your foot? “Hospital.” You say out loud, mind traveling faster than what your mouth can keep up with.

“No, can’t.” Hyunwoo chokes back, holding up his foot, trying to get a good look at the shard he stepped on. He’s craning his neck, but is immediately interrupted by the burning of his body. “Fuck, oh my god. Fuck.” He stresses, whining enough to get you to turn around faster and start sprinting to the bathroom cabinet for bandaids. He’s pulling the shirt off his back and is unbuttoning his pants and kicking them off, enough to pull the hot fabric off of his skin.

“Fuck this stupid mug!” You yell, “Come here!” pointing to the toilet. “Sit.” He scooches back until he hits the kitchen wall, shaking his head ‘No.’ He throws his head back, swallows hard before opening his eyes again. Rushing over, you help him up and walk him carefully around the spillage. “I’m sorry.” You say, hoisting him off from leaning on your shoulder and onto the toilet seat. He sits there, leaned over his foot like Death himself. His shirt lays on the floor, and his pants around his ankles. His boxers have faint coffee spots, but they appear a lighter brown than that on his pants and shirt, and you’re kind of glad— because if he had pulled off his underwear too, you think you would’ve passed out.

He’s leaned over his thighs, and you have to feel over his face to find his chin. He frowns, whining soft under his breath again, like he feels too weak for words. Lifting it up to you, he blinks hard in your hand, pointing a lazy hand to his foot. “I know, I know.” You pull a few pieces of ceramic out from his foot, holding the wet towels over the gashes once removed. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry Hyunwoo.” He cries a little, just from his throat when you remove them. You’re as careful as possible, placing the shards in the bin next to the toilet.

“I know, it hurts. It hurts bad, I know.” You tap over the cuts with a flat cotton round dabbed in hydrogen peroxide. You try to move quickly, but you know you need to be careful, and you take a little longer just to be sure. He hides his face in his elbow, like he’s ashamed, and you start wrapping his foot with gauze after placing two large bandaids over the slices. Again, he whines, this time he lets you place his foot on the floor and leans back against the toilet, exposing his coffee stained chest. He mumbles something totally incoherent and he holds his hand out, flat and palmed up. “What? What is it?”

“It’s burning, Y/N.” You kind of waver for a second, remembering that he didn’t just step on sharp shards of mug, but additionally spilled burning hot coffee all over himself. You race around for more towels, grabbing the whole roll and spinning it around your hand until it’s completely covered. You wet it with cold water and lean over Hyunwoo, his eyes pinched shut in agony. You wipe over his chest, and he grabs your wrist, pulling it to a spot over his heart. “Here. Really bad.” He exasperates, his wincing face calms down until it’s nothing, just a flat expression with woven eyebrows.

“Fuck.” He says it so slow, it feels like he’s spelling it out. He opens his eyes, meeting yours for a moment before taking the towel from your hands. The chaos calms, he begins wiping down his thighs, brief and gentle before resting it over his forearm. This spot is visibly the worst, he has red welts forming and his chest slows its rise and fall pattern with the towel over it. “Thank you.” He whispers, under his breath just quiet enough so you can hear it over his heavy breathing. He leans his head back again, like he’s relieved he’s finally got the chance to slow down after the panic.

“It’s still… on your face.” You say, pausing before moving in with another towel. He has coffee and that frosting before still on his left cheek. Splashes of coffee decorate around his jaw and neck. He smiles proudly, not like the other times where he’s happy or content, but like he’s relieved. Like he thinks something’s funny, or ridiculous. This smile trickles over his lips slowly, and his eyelashes fan rapidly before he closes them again.

“Could you help with that?” He laughs out, leaning his head back up again, shaking it side to side to bring the blood back to his face like he’s been hanging upside down. You smile, happily obliging as you begin to rub soft along his jawline, using your ring finger to wipe up the dab of frosting. He watches you suck it off quickly between your lips, and you freeze, guilty.

You pull your finger out of your mouth with a soft pop. “Didn’t think you’d see me do that.” You laugh, honest, and try to somehow make it seem like you weren’t absolutely humiliated, caught guilty as charged being a complete weirdo.

“I thought you didn’t like frosting?” He turns his cheek back to face you onward.

“I do now.”

There’s a moment of really terrible dreaded silence, and you move your hand slow, back to his cheek to push it back the direction it was just in. Like the pressure was just too much, and you had coffee that needed wiping, and he was just all too real with his chest out and his pants unbuttoned around his ankles. He turns with the push of the towel, blinking a few times, watching you from the corner of his field of view. You focus hard on his jaw, dabbing and wiping at a spot that’s not actually there anymore. Your vision is almost blurry with your heart rate. His palm lifts from his forearm and you slow, each movement decreasing speed until you pause completely. Eyes ticking, millimeters a second towards his gaze. He’s there, watching you like you’re the only thing he’s ever seen. His hand reaches up slowly until it folds over yours, guiding it down his jaw, down his chest and over each side of his collarbone. His eyes lead his face until you are the only thing in front of him, and he hums soft-like, pulling your hand up and over his shoulder. “Kiss me, just so I know.”

Your brows lower, shaking your head slowly in misunderstanding.

“So I know how it feels. You on me.” Your other hand trails over his other shoulder, up and over, ghosting across his skin. “I’ve been thinking about it for months. I’m tired of imagining it.” He furrows his eyebrows, biting soft at his bottom lip, tilting his head to the side. “I’m too curious.”

Your hand finds its way up the back of his neck, snaking its way up into his hair, pulling lightly just to tilt his face up enough. “Please.” He whispers, his hand trailing from your jaw to your neck. It makes you a little excited, how his hand can fully envelop your cheek, fully grasp your neck. The pit in your stomach churning with nerves. You lean in carefully, pressing your lips against his for a moment. He reaches up, lifting himself off the seat by a few inches, pressing himself into you, his hips collide against your stomach. You guide him back down, smiling against his lips and pulling back, settling yourself onto his thighs.

“Don’t get too excited.” You whisper, and he hums a note of denial. Hyunwoo keeps trying to stand, and you keep pushing him down with all of your might, muttering commands for him to “Sit” and to just “Stay.” He laughs big and folds an arm around your butt, where you’re seated on him. He pulls you in closer, scooching forward on the seat until there’s no more space between you. You leave open mouthed kisses over his neck and lean back to catch his eyes again, they flutter again and he winches a little. “Tastes like coffee.” You smile, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. His hand falls from your cheek down to your shoulder, slipping quickly down to your waist. He exhales harshly out from his mouth, leaning his head down so only the coil of the hair on the top of his head is visible. “It still hurts. Right?” You stand, shimmying out of his grasp, your legs standing in an upside-down V on either side of the toilet. He tosses a hand up like he means to grab and pull you back, but misses entirely. He lolls his head back, looking up at you through a pair of hooded eyes. He shakes his head in denial, but his lip tugs in a weak smile of disappointment.

“I feel a lot better now.”

They have Hyunwoo in the doctor’s office for 2 hours before he waddles out in a pair of plush slipper-sandals, his feet bandaged much more professionally than what he had initially entered the hospital with. He assures you that your gauze-work felt much more loving than the doctor’s efforts, and makes a short remark on your sad face. “At least I didn’t need stitches.”

Your hand rubs over the side of your face, “You didn’t even need them? I swear they looked so deep. I was seriously lightheaded looking at the gashes!” He shakes his head ostaneously, chin in the air.

“Made of steel. I’m Hyunwoo, call me indestructible.”

“Says the one who pleaded to kiss me on the toilet.”

Hyunwoo stops in his tracks and releases all tension in his face. “Did not.”

“Did to. You would’ve done anything at that moment.” You push up out of the chair, ready more than ever to get out of the waiting room.

“I can’t recall.” Hyunwoo picks up his feet again, shifting a bunch of paperwork in one hand to the other. “I guess you’ll have to get me in the right mood again and see.” He puts his free hand palm up next to you, and you thread your fingers through it. Your heart sings a little. Even though there’s a layer of gauze in between, you can still feel sparks. When you look up at him at your side, he’s already looking at you. Shoulders so big and broad that his presence accidentally looms, and he’s got a lollipop meant for the kids stuck in one cheek. He pushes the door open and waits for you to slide by first.

You slip out before stopping in a patch of grass outside the office. “Can I tell you something?” You ask, and he instinctively squeezes your hand tighter for a moment. Gazing down at you, he nods gently in approval. You sigh, pulling his other hand from his side, holding them together between your own. His unbandaged hand is rough and calloused, and you bring them both close to your chest. He frowns slightly at your demeanor, opening his mouth to speak.

“It’s not my birthday.” His shoulders droop a little and he slips his bandaged hand back to his side. You keep your fingers locked around the one remaining, rubbing his slowly between your hands as if to keep it warm.

He freezes to process the information, shaking his head confused. “Oh. When is it?” He twirls a strand of your hair around two fingers, and his eyes settle carefully back on your face, head tilting.

“It isn’t for another month.” You smile, eyebrows threading in pity. He doesn’t seem embarrassed, just a little confused.

His head tilts the other direction. “I thought you said it was the 5th.” He turns back and begins walking again, chortling with a hand over his mouth.

“…Of next month.” You laugh, letting go of his hand to pinch a chunk of his butt. He smacks it away and waddles further ahead only to start mocking you, and then faking pain when you begin to catch up to him. Whispering exclaims of agony before shoving you back and limping as fast as he can on his heels. He slows down and you can finally catch up to him as his strides get shorter and shorter.

He picks up your hand in his again, this time squeezes it harder and whispers: “I’ll have to throw you another party then.” You smile at him, and he looks down at you over his shoulder. This look, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp or his hooded eyes trickling down from your face to your intertwined fingers— it is infallible. There’s nothing else he could be but home.

✱

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 3: "The Wolf"

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

[1997yakul]

Hi! I'm a student and fanfic writer from America. I write about mainly NCT, but also a lil bit of Seventeen and Monsta X. I post on AO3, but have been struggling with tags n whatnot (;_;)/~

Thought I'd start posting my works on Tumblr too since this is where I read most of mine anyway. If you want to be mutuals don't be shy! I really love talking to new people. I'll get the blog set up ASAP and transfer some works over when I get home.

I love a lot of groups, but only write about a few-- I feel like that's a normal sentiment heheee~ I like Day6, OnlyOneOf, Red Velvet, Loossemble/Odd Eye Circle/Loona, Shinee, EXO, Ateez, The Boyz, Enhypen, NewJeans, and tons more that I'm blanking on. I also like video games and astrology!

My AO3 is linked below! ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

[1997yakul]

monsta x masterlist

Yo! Whats up!!! here you can find all 1997yakul's fics written for members of monsta x. Works are all ✧˖°.figments of my imagination✧˖°. and should not be taken as a literal reflection of any of them personally.

ପ(੭◍ ´ᵕ`◍)੭ ❁˚๑₊· ͟͟͞͞➳➲

shownu ▸ men with cold exteriors and kind hearts, among other great sights (x reader, chose your ending)

kihyun ▸ tba changkyun ▸ men with cold exteriors and kind hearts, among other great sights (x reader, chose your ending)

ˎ⸊ˊ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

↺ return to the main masterlist here ↺

[1997yakul]

nct masterlist

Yo! Whats up!!! here you can find all 1997yakul's fics written for members of nct. Works are all ✧˖°.figments of my imagination✧˖°. and should not be taken as a literal reflection of any of them personally.

ପ(੭◍ ´ᵕ`◍)੭ ❁˚๑₊· ͟͟͞͞➳➲

johnny ▸ tba

jaehyun ▸ tba taeyong ▸ tba mark ▸ tba jeno ▸ tba haechan ▸ tba jaemin ▸ dont leave your lunchbox in the aisle (x reader, when the bus crush->detention crush->holyshitiloveyou)

ˎ⸊ˊ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

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[1997yakul]

seventeen masterlist

Yo! Whats up!!! here you can find all 1997yakul's fics written for members of seventeen. Works are all ✧˖°.figments of my imagination✧˖°. and should not be taken as a literal reflection of any of them personally.

ପ(੭◍ ´ᵕ`◍)੭ ❁˚๑₊· ͟͟͞͞➳➲

mingyu ▸ clementines (gyuhao, skater boy lovebug)

wonwoo ▸ tba

minghao ▸ clementines (gyuhao, ze epic violin tutor)

ˎ⸊ˊ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

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