♡ any pronouns good with me ;)
♡ entp, aquarius sun, scorpio rising
♡ my favorites in nct are haechan, jaehyun, mark, and jeno.
♡ i love the undead and horror. werewolves, vampires, zombies.. yeah buddy.
♡ super into manga, movies, kdramas and video games, photography n the sort
♡ i love iced coffee. sushi. egg salad. i wont explain.
♡ some groups i like: nct, tbz, monsta x, ateez, svt, red velvet, shinee, day6, onlyoneof, exo, the loona girls (no matter where they go or end up TT) & more. i listen to everything and everybody! who knows if i'll know any names though ><
~ ★ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ★ ~
highly doubt i even need this but i'll add it anyway lol
✧ ayo please dont plagiarize me! the data scraping is tough enough on writers!!
✧ i dont do nsfw, maybe in the future, but im an adult now and dont feel comfortable doing it so dont expect smut from me
✧ you can send ideas you have and i might use them or spin off it, but i dont take requests because im a suuuuper slow writer and struggle to write about ideas that i dont think up myself. (AKA dont hype yourself up… disappointment is basically inevitable lawl)
~ ★ thanks for checking out my page and my stuff. any questions are good to be asked in my inbox. ★~(◡︿⊙✿) ★ ~
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.”
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.
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
boss!changkyun x gender neutral reader ('pretty girl' is used once…sorry I simply couldn’t resist)
Word Count: 16k (chap1, chap2, chap3)
✧ Tags: chose your ending!, angst, fluff, humor, kissing, tending to wounds (purr), swearing, almost sexy time, protective shownu and absolutely broken changkyun iykyk, self doubt/worry/fear, alcohol consumption
✧ Notes: Hi…. my longest fic is here >:3 ! this is a choose ur own ending, chapter 1 will be the base story, chapter 2 “The Bear” is shownu’s ending and chapter 3 “The Wolf” is changkyun’s ending. MY SUGGESTION? READ BOTH.
initially published on ao3 on july 11 2023
✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩
There's something so frustrating about men who act like puppies. It's cute for a moment, but then it all comes crumbling down in a huge dramatic mess. (Trying way too hard to please their mother’s emotional incest and begging to see your text messages after you’ve already insisted multiple times that it’s your 10 year old nephew trying to talk about his Pokémon deck.) Like asbestos in the basement walls, they're tough to get rid of and keep popping up even after you've done everything to get rid of them. A suffocating need for constant attention and approval, and you wouldn’t even know where to start on the insane possessiveness.
It's hard to explain, but your last relationship is all the evidence necessary- men who act like puppies are off limits for you, you need someone independent like yourself. Someone who won't baby you as if you're not already a full-grown adult. Someone who won't roll over in arguments, someone who appreciates time away as much as time spent together.
The water cooler releases an air bubble and it rises to the top of the jug before popping.
The fuzzy chatter and clicking of keys resumes when your boss taps his pen against the half wall of your office divider, separating you from Yoo Kihyun at your right, and Son Chaeyoung at your left. "Hmm?" Your eyebrows perk up at the vibration, wandering until they find the dark irises of your superior's. Im Changkyun. He returns this tight smile before sliding a folder of papers onto your desk, clearing his throat before tugging at the tie around his collar.
"There were some errors in the statistics of these files, I was wondering if you could run them back for me? It's nothing huge," He starts, leaning over your carpeted office chair to let a finger glide across the manilla folder. The taught pull of the skin of his throat flexes as he speaks. His cologne is stronger up this close, and it fills your head completely. It's almost dizzying, a scent so masculine. Woody and crisp citrus, it takes a few blinks of your eyes to recenter your focus on the task he's assigning you. Nodding nonchalantly, he grips the back of your chair loosely as he leans back, finishing a statement you were too busy to hear. "You alright, Y/N?" He pats on the seat back.
"Yes! Of course, Mr. Im." You smile, threading a piece of hair that escaped your ponytail behind an ear.
Fuck, that's so lame.
It was always so easy to seem professional and serious before Changkyun arrived at the office. Transferring from a different branch, he just showed up one day and the entirety of the office was painfully smitten. All cat-like in his prowess, yet his face structured wolfishly. He was broad-shouldered with a sharp nose and heavy brows. He was lean, with jet black hair always slicked, a strand or two always falling over his eyes. He was anything but a puppy. Smelling expensively, doing nothing and everything all at once. There was something so frustrating about being caught with a crush at this age. Like sure, it happens, but it doesn't have to happen at work, and it doesn’t have to be your boss. It used to be the place you could be feared at, the place you ruled with utmost professionalism. Now it feels like an elementary school playground, a ticking time bomb until somebody sings "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
Kihyun fans his face dramatically when your boss' leather shoes retreat from your desk, swiveling off in another direction. "Hot." He mouths, looking over at Chaeyoung, who is busy on the phone with a client. She rolls her eyes and brushes Kihyun off with a feathery wave of her fingers. Your hands fly to your face feeling your cheeks for any hotness. "Did I do okay?" You ask, Kihyun swapping glances between you and his monitor. His eyebrows furrow and he nods confidently, eyes nudging in the direction of Im Changkyun's office.
Your boss slips the slightest glance over his shoulder before slithering into his office. You can physically feel your cheeks set themselves aflame, throwing your fingertips to your keyboard. If they weren't hot pink before, they certainly are now.
✱
Kihyun and Chaeyoung were probably the worst people to bring furniture shopping. Busy with stuffed toys and discussing the wait until the promised Swedish Meatballs, they were absolutely no help. "I said we would go to the Cafeteria after we found me a bedframe." You sigh, "Do you guys ever fully read my text messages?"
Chaeyoung shakes her head no, and Kihyun nods enthusiastically yes. "I did read the message, but it makes so much more sense to fuel up, and then go shopping, like, what the hell? Where's your sensibility?" He argues, tapping a foot on the linoleum.
"You sound like someone’s dad, Kihyun, please." You pat at your purse, checking your cell phone for messages. "This is so weird, the realtor lady was supposed to contact me about where she was going to leave the key, like, an hour ago." You slip your phone back into your bag, blinking off doubt as you sigh. "Okay, we'll eat first I guess! My treat. But that means you really need to help me look afterwards."
Chaeyoung claps a few times with glee, hooking an arm through yours. "Let's go!!" You return a soft smile to her, and Kihyun points up at the sign with the arrows directing to each section of the store, letting him take the lead. "And don't worry too much, I'm sure she just left it under the mat or something."
✱
Moving out of your parents house and finally into your own apartment had been something on your to-do list for the past... 6, or maybe 8 years? Whenever you had your punk phase and your parents threatened to kick you out, that was around the time you realized their parenting methods shifted. There was an innocent fun that came with living with mom and dad from childhood that had dissipated. At least when you were shitting your diapers, you were still easy to coo at. Moving out soon became top priority. Finally on your own after dropping Kihyun and Chaeyoung off with a belly full of meatballs and the parts to a bedframe in your trunk, things were starting to fall into place.
It was dark by now, and the directions to your new apartment on your phone were making you giddy with excitement. A few weeks prior you had the chance to check it out during the day, and it was beautiful. The huge bay window overlooking Seoul, the window seat in the bedroom, the newly implemented granite countertops with a matching eggshell backsplash- Wow! You were kind of grown now, huh?
It was a refreshing type of excitement, like maybe the pure independence of adulthood was finally making sense to your brain, and it didn't feel like a panic anymore to grab onto youth with horror-movie fingernails and try to claw your way out of your aging body.
It was a trip and a half to carry the un-pieced bedframe up the stairs in the apartment complex, but you finally succeeded. The landing was a white, cool concrete, the type you'd seriously tear up your knees on if you fell. It reminded you of recess. It was kind of cute, but also kind of jarring as memories came flowing in as you took more and more steps to your flat number.
Reaching 306, you look at the ground, then back to the door. There's no mat, there's no key anywhere, it's just nothingness. You set your bed frame on the concrete, leaning it against the wall as you let your back hit the door with a heavy sigh. Slipping your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, you call the number saved for the realtor. It rings a busy tone, and your heart sinks.
Something about your super practical nature should have called this, right? Being scammed, for whatever reason? Was the price really that much of a steal? You blink a few more times, tears welling in your eyes. "No, not yet." You tell yourself, standing straight and brushing away the wetness that dared to dribble from your eyes.
Dashing down the 3 flights of stairs again to the mailboxes, you make note of the box with the hatch swung wide open. 306. Peering inside, your hope deflates from your body like a punctured balloon. It's completely and utterly empty, just like you.
At your apartment door again, you try for the handle. It's stiff, rattling beneath your palms with each twist, locked from the inside out. This time, tears explode like 2 sappy waterfalls. Lacking any sense of dignity, you let your fist thump at the door a few more times until you sink to the floor, your jeans at least protecting your knees from the rough concrete. Sobs are pouring out from your lips when the door opens just a crack, light from inside shining out on your mess of sweat slicked bangs and smudged eyeliner.
"Hello?" A voice asks from inside, it's mostly confused, but the door swings open the rest of the way like that of someone with a terrible amount of confidence and trust in sopping quarter-aged people at their doorstep. "Are you okay?" The voice asks again, scouring slightly upon first examination of your lifeless body.
"Do you live here?" You ask abruptly, stifling your cries for the moment as you steady yourself to stand. His hands float around you in a kind-hearted way, as though they're ready to catch you at any given moment. Although you do seem a bit of a mess, hardly distinguishable from any vagrant- they still waver steadily on standby if assistance seemed necessary.
"I moved in today." He answers. Voice warm and comforting, and the aroma of spicy ramen wafts from inside the flat. Your flat.
"I was supposed to move in here today." You wipe at your face, a ring finger lacing the underside of each eye. "I, I have my contract, here. Signed." You dig inside your purse for a moment until your fingers brush up on a folded piece of paper. "Here it is." You sniffle, fortunate to have evidence.
He makes a thoughtful noise, like he's really trying to analyze the paper. "Yeah, I mean. I have one too, I have the same one. I wonder how this happened. This is kind of silly."
Baffled and completely taken aback, you steady yourself as he lets his hand lay on your shoulder for half a second, retreating soon after. "We were scammed. It's not silly, it's terrible. It's fucking awful!" You retort, a palm sliding back over your head and looping around your ponytail. His mouth shapes a surprised 'o'.
✱
Inside the flat is bare. Only the basic utilities are seen, and the man who answered the door, who you've come to know as Son Hyunwoo, is wearing a light blue hoodie tied around his waist and has the AC on full blast. His cooking must've heated up the apartment and gotten him too hot. He checks every few minutes back at the stovetop, sifting his chopsticks through the ramen. "Well, about 3 packs of ramen will be ready in 2 minutes." He beams, shuffling in his slippers across the wood flooring. "They were meant to be all for me, but I'm not bad at sharing."
You sit on the floor in front of the fold-out table with your head in your hands.
"It's okay. We will figure it out. Please don't cry." He says, crouching on the floor on the other side of the table. "If you don't have a place to stay, you can just stay here." The offer is incredibly kind, if the roles were reversed, you probably would have kicked this stranger out an hour ago. He was so self-sacrificing and honest, if you had asked for it, you're sure he would have given you the shirt off his back too.
But you definitely don't want that. No offense, he's just kind of sweating a lot right now, and the heat emanating off of him is way too much for this kind of weather.
It's already odd that he's made spicy ramen in the middle of Summer. You guess it's proof everyone has non-conventional cravings sometimes. But you’re in no condition to judge.
You look up at him for the first time tonight, and you mean to say: "I really don't think that's appropriate. Thank you for the offer, but I should just head to my parents'." But instead, your mouth hangs open in silence. His eyes are two of the most gentle tapioca pearls, his brown hair is ruffled in a soft and messy nest, and his eyebrows are intertwined in a gentle knot of confusion. The fabric of his white long sleeve rolled up to his elbows, and his fingers curl around the side of the table. And somehow, the words "Yes, please" fall from your lips.
Hyunwoo assures you he doesn’t need the instructions one bit when you both finish hauling the bedframe into the apartment’s conjoined living-room-kitchen area. You keep a careful eye on the stapled papers Hyunwoo has confidently discarded into the trash bin, unsure if he really just ‘had a clue’ like he let on. About 15 minutes later he was finished and pumping his arms around goofily until he noticed the watery sheen that had begun decorating your eyes. You couldn’t help it, even if he seemed like a great roommate, you had prepared yourself mentally for a very different (and much less dorm-feeling) experience.
When you told Hyunwoo you were going out for an evening walk, he asked to come with you, begged for a second until you gave him the sort of look that means ‘seriously, no’ and he promptly dropped it. Your mom wasn’t picking up her phone like usual and you decided maybe this was what being an adult was really about. Rolling with the ridiculous punches– not just the hard punches, but just the straight up fucking weird ones too.
You picked up a box of ice cream cones at a convenience store on your way back and upon Hyunwoo letting you in, (you’d have to get his key copied tomorrow) you noticed your bed was completely missing from the living arrangement. Your lips parted as a tired finger pointed to the spot it used to be, the corner of the room now adorned with only what you could assume was Hyunwoo’s twin mattress shoved against the floor molding. Double fitted sheets with thick blue and green stripes that run horizontal, a single pillow and a Teddy Bear that was obviously well-loved. “I moved it to the bedroom. I’m a heavy sleeper and,” he shrugs, pursing his lips simply unaffected. “I think you’d appreciate privacy more than me.” He smiles when a laugh leaves your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief.
“You took the bed frame apart, carried all the pieces to the one bedroom, and then rebuilt it?” You laugh again, “You really are a lifter, huh?”
Hyunwoo beams shyly, watching your hand lift your bag and fish out the box of ice cream. “What’s this?” He watches carefully, eyes lighting up from the refracting moonlight.
“It’s for us, for our journey as new roommates– And, Hyunwoo?” His eyes scan from the box up to you, his forehead creasing gently. “Thank you.”
✱
When Hyunwoo offers to walk you to work after the bus ride that Monday, something deep inside your stomach hates the idea, even denying it a few times before he admits his job at the warehouse is in the same direction.
You just think it's kind of funny that he brings it up after you add that you've never taken this particular bus ride before. Your face broils a bright red and your eyes scan the floor. "Let's just commute together. We don't have to talk on the way. Sometimes it's just nice to walk or sit next to someone you know." He suggests.
You must have forgotten that men lie, often, because somehow, with the shaggy, messy hair (with the hazelnut honey highlights and toffee clean cut against the back of his neck), you believed him. It wasn't a rather exquisite performance when he pretended to miss his stop, his hands gently covering his gaping mouth with a quiet "Oh...no…!" The reality that Hyunwoo, who was just too sweet, had lied about his commute completely, had come to full realization. You had called it from your place on the sidewalk up to his open seat window, standing a mere 10 yards from the office.
"What about your stop?"
His terrible acting ensued.
It was hard to shake your head fast enough to conceal your smile from him. It had been a while since someone had looked out for you in a way you often did for others. Something stupid and simple like taking a new bus route was scary, even if you'd force yourself to do it nonetheless… Hyunwoo by your side for the silent trip made it more… bearable.
✱
Then, you saw him. Mr. Im. He was walking from the parking lot, the higher-ups like the CEO and COO had parking spots right upfront. What was that, a Mercedes? Maybe a Benz. Whatever it was, it was an extremely black, shiny car. It chirped once, a flash of orange lights with Changkyun’s press of his key fob. Your hands folded delicately behind your back. It was almost exciting to see him, a rush of blood to the head. A little gasp here, like: ‘He looks better than yesterday, how?’ He swiveled back, hair bouncing with the turn, a finger instinctively brushing back the wispy strands. His eyes fall on you. There’s an attempt at a wave, but your thumb gets stuck on one of the straps on your tote bag. Maybe you’ve been working out harder than usual or something, because your arm throws the bag off your shoulder with faultless strength. He looks away, and then back again. Rearing himself at the automatic doors that open, and then close. Your eyes are down at your papers scattered all over the ground. Changkyun isn’t a thought right now- Yes, of course. He is hot and sexy and all of those wonderful things, but these reports were months in the making, and all handwritten on a bleedable ballpoint pen. Never would you have ever been angry with morning dew, afterall- morning dew is adorable and everything right with the world. But, not today. There’s a slight breeze and your brain slips into panic mode.
Crouching, back arched like Gollum, you are speeding around, grabbing every stray paper that dares escape your grasp. “Gotchu. And you. Don’t run away from me,” You mumble under your breath. Standing up just for a moment to stretch your back, you notice the man in the dark gray suit bent just like you just were, chasing papers. It’s Changkyun.
Just as the wind picks up, he grabs the final one, standing up straight. His eyes bounce around as he pivots in a circle, looking for you. “Oh, I’m over here! Thank you so much, Mr. Im.” You wave broadly over your head (successfully this time). His face goes from adorable and confused to stern and bloodthirsty in a matter of seconds after locking his sights on you.
“I had a meeting I was already late for. Try to be more careful with your things, please.” He’s saying as he takes wide, broad steps in your direction.
“Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry. Thank you again for the help.” You offer your hands out as he drops the stack into them, instantly pulling his phone out from his back pocket and putting it to his ear. He turns away, heading back to the building entrance. Your chest is moving at a rapid pace. You place your hand on your heart to see how fast it’s beating. Chaeyoung says something you don’t quite catch as she passes by on your left.
“What?”
She stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming? You have a presentation in 10 minutes. Did you forget?”
✱
2 minutes before your presentation, you are wetting and brushing your hair in the bathroom mirror. Sighing deeply, you drop your hands to your sides. The humidity destroyed it, and now it’s a complete mess of frizz. Running out of time and options, you tell yourself gracefully: Fuck it.
His cologne is the first thing you smell as you enter, at this point, it feels like a warning sign. Walking into the meeting room, Kihyun and Chaeyoung smile with small waves from the left side of the table. Of course, black slicked hair faces you as you make your way to the whiteboard, Changkyun sitting right at the head of the elongated table. It’s really quite empowering to sit at the head of the table like that, not to prove Freud right or anything, but that shape of table is phallic, and Changkyun’s seat couldn’t be a coincidence. Everything goes well, it’s no surprise, you know your material and the points that needed to be made. It’s not the best feeling having Changkyun watch you so intently for 20 minutes, but you deal and make it through without a single hiccup. It’s kind of a bummer because you had planned everything for this day out perfectly, but in the end… What's the big deal? It’s just hair. It’s alright… Yeah!
Kihyun and Chaeyoung leave to go get wasted at karaoke, and with you stuck at the office with one more report to fill out, you tell them to leave first. You say you’ll meet them there, but the truth is after the first song ends, Chaeyoung and Kihyun always get too tipsy and start their hour-long deep conversations about the government, society or pressing environmental issues. It’s nice to have deep conversations with friends, but you just want to dance and sing. And you’re a fun drunk, they’re just too serious and it kills the mood when Chaeyoung suddenly starts crying about a rare subspecies of bird that is on the brink of extinction.
The lights are all shut off besides your personal desk lamp, and you have your music playing at a comfortable volume in your headphones. It’s not demanding work, and music is perfect at this time of night, so it’s hard to not feel relaxed. It’s closing in on around 7 o’clock when you finish up, singing softly to yourself as you begin cleaning up your desk. A hand rests on your shoulder for a moment, making you turn around quick, bug-eyed. You are frozen as you stare at Changkyun. In this lighting, he is supremely beautiful. His cheekbones and nose are sculpted like that of a deity, the soft yellow glow from your lamp lights up the high points of his face. He tilts his head slightly as he pushes one of your headphones off your ear, one delicate nudge with his thumb. His voice on one side, and your music on the other. He asks if you need a ride home.
You pull your headphones off and set them on your desk behind you. “A ride?” You ask, checking if you heard him right. He nods and there’s a very slight smile that teases at his upper lip. This is easily the closest you have ever been to him. There’s that aroma again. His cologne devours the air around you, making sure it’s the only thing you can think about.
“You smell really nice.” Your eyes bulge.
“Did I just say that outloud?!” You cup your hands over your nose and mouth. Starting to apologize profusely, he stops you with the wave of his hand.
“Hey, hey. Hey. What are you talking about? I said that. About you.” He leans past you, balanced on one foot as he pushes shut a drawer you hadn't gotten the chance to close yet. “So, would you like a ride home?” You shake your head ‘yes’ in silence.
✱
The car ride is extremely pleasant to say the least. He has music on very lowly and the AC on just enough to stay at a comfortable temperature, but not loud enough to drown out the music. The leather is plush and smooth, and at a sudden stop, he puts his arm out in front of you just like in romance movies. You ask him where he transferred from and he explains he actually came from a really bad part of town. This is the most intriguing piece of information about him yet. "Are you sure you want to tell me this? Aren't you supposed to maintain a very squeaky clean reputation?"
He smiles, pressing harder on the acceleration. "Should I not trust you? I thought you seemed reliable. After all, the assignments I give you are finished in record speed." He rubs the back of his head. "Why didn't you just go out with your friends?"
Your head turns to face him, eyebrows raising. "Mr. Im. You were eavesdropping?"
Changkyun laughs hard, and rests his elbow on the center console. "First, we are alone, and outside of work hours. You can call me Changkyun. Second, no. I value my own and my employees’ privacy. Kihyun is just a very loud whiner."
You agree, and call him Changkyun once. He seems content.
Arriving at your huge apartment complex, you thank him for the ride and grab your bag from the backseat. Leaning down to wave once more, you check the driver's seat, and he's not there. "Let me walk you up." He offers, stepping up onto the curb. "Trying to be a good boss." He smiles shyly, his hands finding their way into his pockets.
"I don't even think an excellent boss would drive their employees home, but…" You shrug, pointing to the stairs. "I'm 306."
"I guess I'm better than excellent then." Changkyun gets a head start, always a step or two ahead. You're thankful because you're wearing a skirt. Maybe he did it on purpose. "You have to walk up all these, twice every day?" He asks, looking behind him for a second. You have to act like you're not out of breath, and it's a bit embarrassing.
"Yup! It's the best, just moved in." You sigh out, turning the corner at the second flight.
Changkyun reaches the landing for your floor and turns around, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So, that's why you're so strong. Being able to vault your bag like that earlier." He smiles big when your face flushes pink. It lasts for a moment before he covers his face with his hand, wiping the smile off.
"Oh, c'mon. Don't bring that up, Changkyun. I was trying to wave. You know—be a good employee." You walk side by side until you reach Room 306. He smiles at the floor, nodding in amusement. "Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, and for walking me up here." You shrug your bag off your shoulder and into your palms.
"Of course, and um- Y/N…" His eyes fall to the ground for a moment, and you watch him intently. "I just wanted to say-"
"Y/N. Welcome home." Hyunwoo swings the door wide and takes the bag from your hands, hanging it up on a rack beside him.
Changkyun's entire expression changes.
"Oh, hello." He puts a hand out for Hyunwoo, who takes it and shakes it hard, enough to shake Changkyun's whole body for a split second. "Yes, nice to meet you." He peeps out.
Hyunwoo smiles and nods, looming over your boss. "So, who are you?"
Changkyun looks a bit surprised, like maybe he assumed Hyunwoo would know about him already. "I'm Im Changkyun. I am Y/N's boss, actually."
"That's cool." He nods and beckons for you to come inside.
"Y/N, this is… your… husband?" His smile is uncomfortable, eyebrows woven in confusion. Hyunwoo and you both chuckle together.
"No, we are roommates, actually… this is Son Hyunwoo." You say, turning to face Changkyun.
"Strong grip you have, Hyunwoo. What do you do for work? Professional wrestler?" Changkyun smiles and takes a step back.
Hyunwoo shakes his head 'No'. "I'm a mover in a warehouse. Wrestling is too aggressive for me."
Changkyun and you both exchange glances with folded lips, wondering why he didn't get the joke. "Well, I'm the CEO of Ppangu Systems and Distribution." He nods his head slightly, and Hyunwoo's smile has grown weak.
"Okay, well, I'll be off!" Changkyun waves both of you off and when he's certainly still in ear-shot, Hyunwoo turns to you.
"What a dickhead."
"Hyunwoo!" You say through gritted teeth. Just as Changkyun begins to turn around, both of you scramble into the apartment and slam the door.
FIRST-- Hiii thanks for support on the Jaem fic ><
+ BIG (ass)ASK UPDATE: Since I write both x readers and member x member, i'm 100% open to making my prewritten fics into an x reader/member x member :<)
(for example: you liked "Don't Leave Your Lunchbox in the Aisle" which was a Jaemin x Reader, but would prefer if it was Jaemin x Renjun or whoever-- just send me an ask asking for that and i'll happily whip that up for you!!!)
now with the stuff i am still unsure about:
i've been going back on forth on this so im not sure what to dooo~~
But i was considering posting all my fics on ao3 and specifically posting only the x readers on here? Since i think most readers on tumblr are more interested in y/n fics and ao3 readers are more interested in ship fics LOL. Honestly I'm fine with posting fics on both or switching it up and going separate! Not sure what to do pookies... If you have thoughts on it I'd be happy to listen. I'll probably stick to posting everything EVERYWHERE if no one says otherwise!!! We'll see.
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.”
summary: neighborhood pant-chain wearing skater boy, kim mingyu, meet the sweet and pure indie lover clementine, xu minghao. he will be your violin tutor. have fun!
(masterlist) ☆ (seventeen masterlist)
.｡.:*♡ Pairing: violinist!minghao x skater!mingyu
Word Count: 4,8k (one-shot)
✧ Tags: high school!au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, humor, kissing, swearing, being sillies, tutoring, forced proximity, smoking weed, being high in general (possibly underage?),
✧ Notes: lowercase fic (shiverssss) forgive high school me, i still think this ones pretty cute!
initially published on ao3 on september 27th 2019
✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩
minghao is sliding rosin on the many thin hairs of his bow in the practice room when he sees mingyu for the first time.
he feigns a look so daunting and morose it makes his knees shake. for a moment, through the little rectangular window in the door, minghao watches. the bellowing, brassy sounds exploding from the instruments around him as his classmates warm up become muffled as hao focuses his energy on the boy on the other side of the glass. mingyu’s slender fingers wrap around a dab pen barely hidden in his sleeve, and minghao watches his body expand as he breathes in, his eyes fluttering shut and how his chest remains puffed for a few seconds before releasing the tension. he is tall, and scary looking, but most of all, he looks afraid. it makes minghao curious.
the dark door opens and hao’s eyes double in size, his pupils shift instantly downwards towards his feet. when footsteps near minghao, his stomach flips.
“are you good at this?” a familiar finger points to his violin.
the cherry wood glossy finish on his instrument was littered with small stickers he collected from trips to town with jun and joshua. he loved looking at them because they reminded him of days off in the summer and when he still had classes with his friends. now he was lucky if he was able to make out a single word joshua would yell at him during orchestra practice.
“oh, i. i don’t know. i haven’t practiced much lately.”
“clarinet, right?” the one with the rather menacing chain looped through his pants asked. “it’s what squidward plays. like in spongebob.” mingyu is looking at joshua cleaning his mouthpiece.
this made minghao smile. he thought it was kind of funny— kind of comforting, to be reminded of a childhood favorite of his by someone a few minutes ago he was sure he would’ve done everything he could to avoid crossing paths with.
“my name is kim mingyu. i think we went to the same middle school. do you think you could do me a favor?” mingyu’s eyes did a funny little thing. they looked desperate. and his eyebrows did this funny little thing. they pleaded.
and minghao’s heart did a funny little thing.
it skipped a beat.
“what can i help you with?” minghao had to push himself onto his tippy-toes just for a moment so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice too loud, cupping a hand around his mouth to amplify his words.
“can you teach me? teach me violin?” mingyu’s thumbs fumbled over each other as he monologued. “my mom wants me participate in school more. she says i can’t get a scholarship to college for skateboarding.” minghao can’t help but smile a little bit at that too. he has never taught anyone anything ever before, and the thought of watching mingyu skate circles around him made hao even more curious. “it was this or football and i’d rather die than sign my life away to play with balls on the daily. i mean—“ a rosy flush spreads across mingyu’s cheeks when minghao snorts at his jumble of words.
“i mean. no, i didn’t mean. oh man...” mingyu rubs his face with his hands. “you’ll help me right? i can get my mom to pay you.”
“why not.” minghao smiles “maybe you can teach me how to skate too.”
minghao listens to strawberry swing on the bus home and contemplates what sheet music he should use in his lessons with mingyu. then he eats a clementine on the front steps of his home and listens to music on the radio. at night, when everyone turns on their porch lights, and the fireflies come out, minghao does his homework and wonders if mingyu is doing his homework now too. he slides his phone from his desk to his lap and opens up his contacts. there it is.
Kim mingyi
the contact was added by mingyu in a hurry before he ducked out of the room, and the spelling error, although a mistake, felt perfect to hao.
"Hi! This is Xu Minghao from school." minghao whispers to himself out loud a few times, checking for its normality before deciding to send the message.
the whoosh sound effect made his heart beat a little harder, and the second the 3 dots made their appearance on the blank chat, minghao shut off his phone, pushing it across the desk away from himself.
that was it? that’s it? minghao sighed as he scanned over the 6 words.
the loud crash and grunt startled minghao, prompting him to rise in a hurry from his chair. as he threw back his curtain to fall behind his shoulder, his eyes analyzed the street in front of him from his open bedroom window.
minghao watched as the boy picked up his phone from the asphalt. brushing the cracked screen as he ran a hand through his hair. it was mingyu. minghao turned to his own phone in his hands to check the notification.
minghao peered back into the humid night, watching as mingyu swiped quickly over his phone with the sleeve of his hoodie, balled up around his fist. he snapped his foot down on the skateboard, making it bounce into his hand. the boy in the window wondered if he was capable of doing something like that with a skateboard too.
mingyu laughed a little at himself before he started letting his fingers fly across his keyboard.
minghao barely made eye contact with his unfinished homework before shoving his foot into his yellow converse and knotting up the laces around his ankles, shooting a quick reply to mingyu.
☼
“so i think thursday would work for the lessons.” minghao offers once he has his hands wrapped around the bottle of sprite, condensation running down his forearm.
“works for me.” mingyu nodded as he turned his back to reach for his pocket, coasting on his board down the street as minghao claimed the sidewalk. “i cracked my phone really bad earlier, look.” he pressed the power button, stomping his right foot on the black top so minghao could get a good look while the world was completely still. the screen was shattered pretty awfully and the scrapes along mingyu’s knuckles made hao feel sad.
the text minghao sent him was still an unopened notification.
“hey! that’s my text. what’s my contact name?” minghao gave mingyu a shove back as he laughed loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood.
“oh what, zazou? you think i’d forget you playing zazou in the maewon middle school 7th grade rendition of disney’s the lion king?” mingyu scoffs satirically and minghao’s stomach churns in embarrassment.
“my mom forced me to do that..” he tried arguing as mingyu kicked off from the concrete, progressing further on his skateboard.
“no way. you were way too good on that stage to of not wanted to be there.” it goes quiet for a moment and minghao shoves his hands into the deep pockets of his light blue overcoat. “thanks.” it feels weird receiving compliments like this, sometimes. minghao’s mom always told him to accept compliments and not deny, because then you’re either fishing for compliments or displaying low-self esteem. minghao’s mom hates both equally.
that night, the boys wave goodbye to each other and minghao walks in the front door and watches mingyu fly down the street before shutting it closed behind him.
minghao eats another clementine and recycles his soda bottle. then he finishes his homework, brushes his teeth, and stays up all night finding the perfect song to teach mingyu.
☼
before school, minghao skips breakfast and practices violin instead, he blow dries his hair instead of letting it air dry, and he decides to bring his old sheet music from when he was just starting out.
joshua texts the groupchat his daily “i hate chemistry” text, and the world seems to be at peace. minghao listens to strawberry swing on the bus again and wonders if mingyu knows the song. jun says “it’s not bad if you listen to the teacher.” and joshua replies “easier said than done, boomers get mad we aren’t born with the knowledge they spent their entire lives learning.” minghao and jun agree.
minghao thinks joshua and jun are life-long friends for him. they all got put in the same class at the start of school because they had learned korean late, hailing from foreign countries. joshua plays the clarinet and bass, and jun had decided to pick up the ukulele when swim season died down.
on thursday, minghao meets at mingyu’s house with his violin and a folder of papers. minghao’s fingers curl the bow, manipulating it to become part of himself, and mingyu gives up ever ‘becoming good.’ mingyu’s mom pays $80 for 2 hours each lesson, and minghao thinks by the end of it all he will be able to buy plenty of more stickers for his violin and lots of ice cream for joshua and jun.
☼
“i heard you’ve become friends with a cool skater boy.” jun nudges minghao on a chilly friday afternoon, the friday after his 4th lesson with mingyu. “oh yes. do tell!” joshua kicks rocks into the gully and leans all of his weight on a rather frail looking walking stick.
“he is pretty cute. and he told me he listens to my chemical romance and steve lacy. and he’s getting the hang of violin.”
“he sounds like the real deal!” joshua’s laughing halts when minghao karate kicks the walking stick, snapping it into two.
“do you get paid a whole lot?” jun is checking under boulders light enough to lift for salamanders.
one day the forest will swim in leaves, minghao thinks. they just don't decompose fast enough. he wonders what lies beneath all the layers of crunchy foliage. maybe frogs.
“yes. i help him for 2 hours and it’s $80.”
“a keeper.” joshua remarks, brushing soil off of himself. “in all seriousness, i’m jealous. i want a boyfriend, or a girlfriend.”
minghao points to jun. “you always have jun!” he erupted into laughter, sending both boys jumping over top of him, throwing bundles of crisped leaves into his face.
“of course!”
“you had to make it weird!”
“why do you get the skater boy and i’m stuck with him?”
“hey! i’m not that bad!”
☼
at their 8th lesson, mingyu can read music and play songs at reduced speed. “why don't you show me your best piece?” mingyu prompts hao, obviously tired of the work that goes into learning something new. giving him a little smile that fills his heart with fear and warmth, mingyu asks “what’s a song you can perform really well?”
“ok. i can't perform it perfectly, but this is my favorite one. so you have to be quiet. listen.” minghao sets up his phone to the speaker in mingyu’s basement and plays pulaski at night. mingyu taps his feet impatiently. “when do you come in? when do you come in?” he giggles at minghao’s solidness, his frozen stance of extreme focus. he waits for what feels like forever; until minghao begins.
minghao lets his sound resonate with the cold walls surrounding them, he lets his fingers pluck and become extensions of the bow. mingyu wonders if he has the best teacher ever, and decides he does. he decides right then and there:
“you’re the best violinist i have ever heard. or seen.” mingyu tells minghao completely straight faced, making him laugh. “hey, i’m being serious. that was so amazing. you’re amazing.”
“are you high right now?” minghao asks rhetorically, turning to stop the song from repeating.
“no! well, a little. but not enough to impair my judgement or anything.” mingyu catches minghao’s eyes for a moment and feels a spark. a spark of a true creator, someone passionate about their work, passionate about doing what they love. “i want you to teach me pulaski at night.”
☼
“you’re going to TEACH HIM PULASKI AT NIGHT?!” joshua pushes minghao over, flopping on his bed, his lips and fingertips stained orange from cheese doodles. “that’s our song, for the talent show. come on...” jun snaps uncomfortably at minghao.
“it’s $80! imagine how long he would take to learn it. come on guys. he really liked seeing me perform it, it would be a dick move to not help him. he really wants this.”
the silent demeanor from the two boys starts making minghao worried. “he’s learning my part, not like i’m gonna shove him into our performance you big doofuses.”
“we know: just kinda, we thought it was OUR thing.” jun replies, rubbing his hands on his thighs, glancing over at joshua, who’s digging back into the cheese doodle bag, seemingly forgetting what he was fighting for. jun lands a solid smack against joshua's back, making him sit up straight, incoherently nodding and mumbling an "of course" and "i agree completely!"
☼
mingyu and minghao's lessons are different now. on their 12th lesson, mingyu tucks hair behind hao's ears. by the 13th lesson, hao holds mingyu's hand for a few more seconds than necessary when passing him rosin or a soda from the basement fridge. sometimes the two entirely abandon the stringed instruments to roll around in the grass and kick mingyu's skateboard. although minghao tries his best, mingyu gets distracted easily and offers him his dab pen or says he'd rather learn about minghao than the violin. the tutor knows he should be upset by this, but it's more cute than bothersome at this point.
"i never want this to end." mingyu confesses while minghao is in the middle of explaining the tempo of pulaski at night. minghao's tired eyes shoot wide at being interrupted, hesitantly turning his head to face the voice behind him.
"well, i think two hours is plenty for a vio-"
"no, you geek. not enough for me. i just want to sit here and listen to you talk."
"mingyu, you would be so bored, i think you're exaggerating."
"no, this is perfect for me."
"perfect?" minghao repeats without much expression besides a hint of curiosity. he wants to ask what mingyu had meant, but even after so many lessons, the truth was that mingyu still made minghao's heart thump and stomach churn by infinity times ten.
minghao uses some tutoring money to buy ice cream and stickers for joshua and jun, he buys matching keychains with little storm clouds and gives the one he believes to be cuter to mingyu.
mingyu hung the keychain onto the metal looped through his black jeans before hao could even finish telling him about the adventure he went through finding them.
☼
on the 20th lesson, mrs. kim leaves the envelope with the check on the kitchen counter while at a co-worker's birthday party.
on the 20th lesson, mingyu tells minghao to come upstairs and check out his bedroom.
gyu, with his slender fingers, lets minghao pick a song to play. mingyu makes minghao promise it won't be classical music, and minghao shoves him onto his bed. "just because i play violin doesn't mean i'm boring and only listen to classical music!! you're so lame!" mingyu laughs as he reaches from where he laid on his bed to whatever random knick knacks he could grab or point to, explaining the stories behind all of them.
"it's nice and bright, like you." the skater says when minghao picks strawberry swing. kim mingyu, as dark as he had initially seemed, said he loved the song. "i can wear black all i want, but i guess everyone needs a little bit of light." then mingyu made fun of coldplay and hao had to tell him they all split up and mingyu felt bad.
but minghao just laughed.
minghao feels comfort with mingyu, and when he tells him this, mingyu agrees wholeheartedly. minghao hugs mingyu really tight. tighter and longer than he's hugged anyone ever before. neither of the boys touched a violin for either of the two hours.
instead of his violin, minghao had touched:
1. Kim Mingyu
minghao never held or touched or petted or squashed the cheeks of his violin quite like he had been able to do with mingyu, and for a split second, he questioned if he was cheating.
minghao wonders to himself if he can love two at once, his violin and kim mingyu. he decides he can, but only deep, deep down so if or when mingyu says he's a great friend and nothing more, minghao knows he won't be too disappointed.
the exact moment where minghao had said something along the lines of "i should be heading home soon," was but a distant memory until mingyu beat hao in mario kart and joked that his prize should be a kiss on the cheek. minghao was out of his crush's room in a minute flat and stumbling to the front door for his shoes.
"sorry, sorry. i have homework!! i need to make dinner, um, my mom called me, i..er, my dog is sick. he has... uh.. like, a.." mingyu held the railing as he skidded down steps behind the little one fleeing his home. "i was making a joke, i wasn't trying to pressure you, i'm really sorry." minghao blew his hair out of his face as he tied his shoelaces, fingers going numb from his anxiety shooting through the roof. "let me help." he offered, bending down.
minghao imagines mingyu knotting up all of his heart strings, tying them up and working slow. he wants to hate it, but he loves it. but he just hates it. but he loves it. but-
"done! see, you should keep me around, looks like i'm useful sometimes." mingyu smiled as he stood up to face minghao, whose face was cherry red.
"sorry. i get so nervous around you."
"it's okay. i get nervous around you, too." mingyu spun his thumbs in circles before minghao remarked, "no you don't! i'm the least menacing person you know, easy!"
"trust me, i get nervous too. i'm just good at hiding it," mingyu concluded just as hao opened the door, letting cool air flush into the foyer. "you can always come back. tonight. if you want," mingyu threw into the dying conversation.
"like a sleepover?" minghao poked mingyu's ribs with one finger.
"no, not 'like a sleepover,' a sleepover." gyu's cheeks grew pink when hao smiled and stepped off of his porch and slipped into the night without a response.
when mingyu finds the check for $80 on his kitchen counter addressed to minghao, he feels like death. they hadn't touched either of their violins in what, 5 lessons? a month and a half? mingyu had even taken minghao out for skate breaks during the lessons.
☼
hao would curl up in a ball on the skateboard and mingyu would push him just a little. then he would watch him roll down the precipitous hill at an astonishing speed. a speed that would pick up quick and leave minghao screaming for mingyu all the way down until a wheel would get stuck in a patch of grass, and his screeches would quiet into soft panting. mingyu swore he would hear minghao's indie recommendations when he laughed and he loved it.
minghao would play toad and mingyu would play king boo in mario kart and mingyu would always win. something in minghao's eyes would tell him to let him win, just once, but also something in mingyu's stomach told him to just keep beating him senselessly. minghao's eyes would soften and the corners of his lips would fall in the slightest, his lips would part with a sigh. wordlessly, mingyu would pull minghao into a hug and push hao's face into mingyu's throat. he liked the feeling of minghao's eyelashes flutter on his jugular and the shallow, nervous exhales he knew hao was struggling to contain. "next game, you got it."
☼
mingyu's eyes bored holes into the check that laid neat and ready for xu minghao.
minghao told his mom right when he got home that he was going to sleep over mingyu's house that night. he ran up his steps so excitedly that he fell forward, dragging his fingertips along the ridge of his steps. he threw open his closet and grabbed all that he could scavenge: socks, underwear, jeans, shirts, pens, papers, video games, flashlights, stickers, and his toothbrush. the thought of sleeping over mingyu's house made hao all but comfortable, but for some reason, he wanted it more than anything.
he slapped his light switch off and shoved his toes hard into his sneakers, leaving his heels exposed as he shuffled his music. the steve lacy song that mingyu recommended him had made its way to hao's favorite-songs playlist. minghao's mom forced a kiss on her son's cheek as he stumbled around with his shoes barely secured. his violin case leaning up against the foyer table shook slightly with the slam of the front door.
minghao ran the whole way to mingyu's house with a smile on his face and both of his fists locked around a clementine.
mingyu was puffing lazy clouds into his backyard, watching the blamelessly bright full moon slide between his exhales from his bedroom window. the rustling of the forest grew closer to him and his eyes drifted from the sky to the trees below, watching with intent as the sounds became louder. little minghao popped out from the brush and mingyu's dark heart jumped up into his throat. "i took the shortcut so i could get here even faster!!" hao bounced around in his moonlit yard, the grass reflecting the stars as minghao's hair flopped against his forehead in an excited manner.
mingyu looked down on minghao without a word, waiting for him to say, 'yes, i'm here for my $80, give it here.'
but it never happened.
the "minghao, i'm pretty high right now. you should go home." was a little harder for mingyu to actually say out loud then he imagined. it got a little choked up and minghao immediately rushed to mingyu's side, or, his side but 8 feet below. "what? it's okay!" he said, sliding a strap from his backpack off his shoulder and unzipping a pocket. mingyu could only watch minghao from above, frozen by his own emotions to actually do or say anything. "i'm fine with just hanging out with you. you can smoke, it's okay. it's just not my thing." the silence hurt minghao, each second pained him. mingyu had never been shut off like this before. "i brought stuff, like, i don't know, a bunch of stuff for you. and me. us." he pulled out a candy bar and attempted to throw it to mingyu's window, but it just hits the shutter, slightly to the left of him, and falls back into minghao's pitiful hands. "are you okay?" hao asked before mingyu pulled his hand to his mouth to take another hit.
"minghao, do you remember when we went skateboarding, and played games, and when you showed me songs you liked?"
"of course."
"do you remember when you played pulaski at night for me?"
"yes."
"and you said you would try to teach me?"
"mhm,"
"and then even when i gave up, you still came to hangout with me?"
"yes."
"have you still been getting paid to just be with me?"
"oh, man, mingyu.."
"has my mom still been giving you checks to come over?"
"mingyu."
"minghao, just tell me."
"yes. but i haven't cashed any of them!" minghao spits out the last phrase, seeing mingyu's eyebrows furrow with so many questions. "i used 6 of the checks." mingyu drops his dab pen onto his bed and moves closer to his window, leaning out to listen to him with ease. "being your friend was all the pay i needed." minghao's hand slides into the pouch on his slightly over-sized lavender hoodie, revealing his fist filled with crumpled paper. "it didn't sit right with me. i didn't say anything sooner because i didn't think i was ready to tell you the truth. i wanted to drag out being with you for as long as i could." mingyu smiles when minghao looks down at his hands, his hair sprouts like black silk grass and his cheeks tint a peachy red, his innocence, his kindness, his lovableness so prevalent. "you all to myself and nobody else." hao looks back up at mingyu with big pupiled eyes and he can feel his mouth tugging upwards upon seeing mingyu's face. "i have something to say." minghao's nose and mouth contorts with anxiousness, his jaw slacking, but silence filled the void.
minghao tosses his backpack off his shoulder, popping the cap off of a pen and scribbling furiously on one of the many checks. mingyu calls down, asking what he is doing, and to "just come up here first!" but minghao is determined, folding the paper back and forth to make a clean rip. in a minute, maybe less, minghao takes a few steps back and guides the paper airplane to soar. it flies with intention, beautifully against the moon, mingyu thinks. then he catches it. for a moment, he brushes his fingertips along the folds of the airplane, carefully crafted by someone who cares. then he begins. mingyu delicately began to unfold the previously crumpled check, making frequent glances to minghao so far below.
"i like you" mingyu reads aloud.
"i like you too." minghao responds.
and with those simple words, mingyu is skidding down the side of his house, fingers grappled at the window frame with pained laughter and minghao shouting for him not to hurt himself. his socked feet hit the grass and his long body stumbles only for a few seconds before colliding with minghao's torso, straight into his outstretched arms. minghao was delicate as dust, but mingyu could comfortably squeeze him into oblivion. there was no room for air, no atoms, particles, molecules, nothing of the sort had any place between the bodies of kim mingyu and xu minghao.
gathering up assurance unbeknownst to either of the teenagers, the smaller one leaned up to peck his cheek.
"kim mingyu, i am never letting you go." minghao promised before moving from his cheek to his mouth, making the taller one lean back to laugh.
☼
on the night of the first kiss, deep in a cave of his own comforter, minghao's hands ignited, smashing his fingertips across his phones' keyboard at a speed faster than his own heartbeat. jun and joshua respond so quickly, minghao starts wondering if maybe they actually do see his daily messages about frogs, and just choose to not reply
minghao thinks that riding his bike to school is more rewarding than catching the bus.
he flies around the curves of his neighborhood with the wind in his face and a smile spread across his mouth. he listens to music mingyu recommends, and slows down, almost completely stopping, but not. when he reaches the house with the familiar window, minghao squints so hard his eyes are almost completely swallowed up by his cheeks, but not. he watches mingyu dance around his room as he pulls on a hoodie and knocks the toothbrush around in his mouth in a hurry.
minghao decides that riding his bike to school is more rewarding than catching the bus.
at the school talent show, mingyu gleams in the audience, even when jun totally screws up the whole song and starts laughing into the microphone. mingyu whistles with his fingers at the end of the performance and everyone covers their ears with their hands. jun, joshua, and minghao hold hands and bow; joshua's face so red with embarrassment he whispers to minghao that he thinks he might explode. the three win a plastic medal painted gold with an orange ribbon the same color as clementines. minghao couldn't be happier to win a participation medal. jun says they brought shame to pulaski at night and minghao tells him he's wrong, and their attempt was exactly what the song is all about.
☼
mingyu says 'i love you' at 11pm on a thursday, when minghao shows up at his window for the third time that week. tonight with 2 clementines, a rant about rainbows with no rain, and his insufferable insomnia. mingyu says it breathlessly after minghao kisses the oxygen out of his lungs and tells him that he likes that he tastes like the citrus fruit.
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)
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)
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)
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
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
