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The Way You See Me; C.S.B

AN: Hiii!!! This is very self indulgent honestly, that picture of soobin really did a number on my and I had this dream!!!! I just had to put it into words!! Hope everyone likes it! <3

__________

SYNOPSIS

Soobin has spent months trying to ignore it—the way he craves her approval, the way his heart stumbles when she looks at him, the way he needs to prove himself to her.

She’s his superior—sharp, composed, untouchable. But late nights at the office reveal the cracks in her armor, the pressure she carries, the weight of proving herself.

After a costly mistake in front of senior management, Soobin is desperate to fix what he’s broken. Forced to stay late, tension builds, boundaries blur, and he sees his chance—not just to redeem himself, but to show her exactly how much he wants to be worthy of her.

———————

Pairing: OfficeWorker!Soobin x female!reader

drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish), forbidden love?, implied smut

tags: age gap, office au, superior-subordinate relationship, mutual pining, soobin really wants to make oc proud, really self indulgent work tbh

wc - 3.5k

———————————

The first time Soobin met her, he was convinced she was the most intimidating woman in the entire company. Not because she was mean—she never raised her voice unnecessarily, never belittled anyone, never acted superior despite her high-ranking position—but because she carried herself with a quiet authority that left no room for incompetence.

She was always polished, always precise. Whether it was the way she spoke in meetings, the way she drafted proposals with sharp efficiency, or the way she could command a room with nothing but a measured glance, she was impossible to ignore.

And yet, despite all that, she had a way of softening around him.

It wasn’t obvious—not something anyone else would pick up on—but Soobin felt it. The way her sharp eyes would linger on him a second too long during briefings. The way her lips would twitch ever so slightly when he stumbled over his words. The way she would press a cup of coffee into his hands during late nights at the office without a word, as if she knew he needed it.

And, perhaps most of all, the way her confidence sometimes faltered when she thought no one was watching.

It had started during those late nights they found themselves stuck in the office, the rest of the building empty, just the hum of computers and the occasional rustle of papers filling the silence.

Soobin had noticed the way her fingers would linger an extra second over an email before sending it. The way she would double-check, triple-check a report that was already flawless. The way her brows would knit together in frustration when she thought she hadn’t done enough.

She always wanted to be better.

One night, when they were both exhausted from an impossible deadline, she sighed and muttered under her breath, “If I mess this up, they’ll never take me seriously.”

It had been so quiet, so vulnerable, that Soobin almost thought he imagined it.

But he hadn’t.

And from that moment on, he had started seeing it more—the small, unspoken pressure she carried, the weight of proving herself to senior management.

He never mentioned it but it made him admire her even more. Because he understood.

Soobin had his own demons to wrestle with. He wanted to prove himself, too—not just as someone competent, but as someone worthy of standing beside her.

And yet, no matter how much he wanted to close the distance between them, it was dangerous.

Not because she was his boss—technically, she wasn’t, though she was still his superior—but because she was older, more experienced, and so utterly out of his league.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

He liked the way she carried herself. He liked the way she pushed him to be better. And he liked—God, he loved—the way she would let him call her Noona.

The first time it had slipped out, she had only raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

“Are we close enough for that, Soobin?” she had asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Soobin had turned bright red. “I—uh—no, I mean, yes, I—”

And then she laughed. Not a full, unguarded laugh, but a small, amused chuckle that made something tight coil in his chest.

After that, it became a habit. He only used it in moments where he wanted to fluster her, to see if he could get a reaction. When he handed her a report early? Here you go, Noona. When he caught her yawning at her desk after a long night? You should take care of yourself more, Noona.

And every single time, she would just give him a knowing look, never confirming nor denying if she liked it.

But the tension was always there.

Little moments. Little glances. Little touches that lingered a second too long.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

Until now.

__________________________

The conference room was silent.

Too silent.

Soobin’s pulse pounded in his ears as the weight of every gaze in the room pressed down on him.

He had rehearsed this presentation a dozen times. He knew the numbers, the strategy, the key talking points. But as he stood there in front of senior management, his mouth felt dry, his hands clammy.

And then—he froze.

It happened so fast. One moment, he was clicking through his slides, explaining their proposal with careful precision, and the next…

Something was wrong.

The figures on the screen weren’t the ones he had prepared. The projections were off. The revenue forecast showed a steep decrease when it was supposed to remain steady. And worst of all—

“Wait.”

Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Soobin’s stomach dropped.

All eyes turned to her, who had been sitting to the side, listening intently—until now.

“There’s an issue with these numbers,” she continued, her brows knitting together as she gestured toward the screen. “These projections don’t match what we reviewed earlier this week.”

Whispers rippled through the room.

Soobin felt his throat close up. He scrambled to find his mistake, flipping through the report in his hands.

He found it.

His heart sank.

The numbers had shifted. Somewhere between finalizing the report and submitting it, a miscalculation had thrown off the entire forecast.

A miscalculation he had made.

God.

His fingers gripped the edge of the podium, his breath uneven.

“I…” He swallowed hard. “I must’ve made an error when I was updating the file.”

Silence.

One of the senior managers, a sharp-eyed man with graying hair, leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “That’s a costly mistake.”

Soobin’s nails dug into his palm.

She let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temple. She didn’t look at him.

“Soobin, we went over this twice,” she said, her voice controlled but firm. “This was supposed to be accurate. How did this happen?”

Soobin opened his mouth—then closed it. There was no excuse.

“I…” He lowered his gaze. “I don’t know.”

The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than anything.

She straightened her back, nodding once before turning to the executives. “We’ll correct the figures and send out a revised report by the end of the day.”

The meeting carried on without him.

Soobin sat through the rest of it in silence, his ears burning, shame curling hot and heavy in his stomach.

When it was finally over, he was the first to leave.

But before he could escape completely, his phone buzzed.

YN: Come to my office. Now.

________________________________

Soobin stepped into her office, feeling like he was walking into a storm. The door clicked shut behind him, locking them away from the rest of the office.

She stood near her desk, arms crossed, frustration still evident in the sharp line of her jaw.

Soobin barely had time to take a breath before she started.

“Sit,” she ordered.

His body reacted before his mind did, sinking into the chair across from her desk.

She stayed standing, hands planted on the wooden surface, looking down at him with eyes that had seen through every excuse, every attempt to soften the blow.

“What happened, Soobin?”

His chest tightened. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “We spent days on this. We reviewed every single number, every forecast, every detail. You knew how important this was.”

“I do know,” he said quickly, but it didn’t matter.

She shook her head, pacing now. “Then why?”

Soobin clenched his fists, swallowing hard. “I thought I had it right. I checked—”

“Clearly, you didn’t check enough.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they cut.

Soobin felt heat crawl up his neck. He had already beaten himself up over this, but hearing it from her made it worse.

“Senior management was watching, Soobin,” she continued, voice tight. “Do you realize what this does to our credibility? What it does to my credibility?”

His stomach twisted.

She exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I should’ve reviewed it one more time,” she muttered under her breath.

His head snapped up. “Noona—”

“I should have made you run through it again this morning. I should have double-checked the reports myself before they were submitted—”

“No.” Soobin’s voice was stronger now, firm despite the way his heart pounded.

She looked up, brows raised.

He shot up from his chair. “Don’t do that.”

Her lips parted slightly, but he didn’t let her interrupt.

“This was my mistake,” he said, stepping toward her. “I was the one in charge of the final numbers. You did everything right. I was the one who—”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “But it’s my project, Soobin.”

And just like that, the words hit.

He felt it—the weight she carried, the pressure she put on herself to be perfect in front of the executives.

She needed to prove herself. Just like him.

His breath was unsteady. “Noona…”

She didn’t look at him. She just exhaled, ran a hand through her hair, and finally dropped into her chair, pressing her fingers against her temple.

“So now we fix it,” she muttered. “We stay here as long as it takes, and we fix it.”

Soobin hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

_____________________________________

The office was silent except for the quiet hum of the city outside.

After hours of revising, correcting, and analyzing every detail, YN finally leaned back in her chair with a tired sigh, rubbing her temples.

Soobin glanced at the clock. Past midnight.

The air in the room was heavy—exhaustion clinging to their skin, the weight of the mistake still hanging between them.

“You should rest for a bit,” he murmured.

She huffed. “So should you.”

Soobin hesitated, then nodded toward the couch near the window.

“Five minutes,” he offered. “Then we’ll get back to it.”

She sighed, but for once, she didn’t argue. Instead, she pushed herself up and walked over, sinking into the cushions with a quiet exhale.

Soobin followed, sitting beside her—but not too close. Close enough to feel her presence, close enough for the air between them to crackle with something unspoken, but still safe.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

Then, softly—

“This project is everything to me.”

Soobin turned his head.

She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling, her fingers loosely intertwined in her lap.

“If this goes well, I’ll have a real shot at the promotion,” she continued, voice quieter now. “I’ll finally get the recognition I’ve been working for.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “But if we screw this up…”

She didn’t finish the thought.

Soobin swallowed, his chest tightening.

He had always known she put pressure on herself. He had seen it in the way she stayed later than everyone else, in the way she never let herself slip, in the way she constantly had to prove herself.

But hearing her say it out loud—it made something ache deep inside him.

“I let you down,” he muttered.

She finally looked at him.

“Soobin—”

“I did,” he insisted. “You trusted me with this, and I messed up.”

His fingers curled against his knees, his voice dropping.

“I wanted to prove myself too,” he admitted. “I wanted to show them I could handle this. That I deserved to be here. That I deserved to stand next to you.”

Her breath caught.

Soobin hesitated before continuing, his voice quieter now.

“And… I wanted to make you proud.”

Silence.

Then—

“You already do.”

Soobin’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

She held his gaze, unwavering.

“You work so hard,” she murmured. “You care so much. More than anyone gives you credit for.”

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “You have nothing to prove to me, Soobin.”

His throat tightened.

Because she saw him. She always had.

And suddenly, it felt like a door had opened—one they had both been standing in front of for months, waiting for the other to push it first.

Soobin let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding.

“You act like you’re untouchable,” he whispered. “Like nothing ever shakes you.”

She blinked.

“But I see you.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t stop him.

“I see the way you double-check your work a hundred times before submitting it,” he continued. “I see the way you stay late, even when you’re exhausted, just to make sure everything is perfect.”

His voice softened.

“I see how much this means to you. How much you need them to take you seriously.”

She let out a quiet breath, but she didn’t look away.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Noona,” Soobin murmured. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap.

And then—hesitantly, slowly—she reached up, smoothing back a stray lock of his hair.

Soobin froze.

Her touch was featherlight, lingering longer than it should have.

“I see you too, Soobin.”

His breath caught.

“You try so hard,” she whispered. “You put so much pressure on yourself. You think you have to be perfect, but you already are.”

Soobin let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “I don’t feel perfect.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted.

Silence stretched between them.

They were close now—closer than they had ever been.

Soobin could see the way her lashes trembled slightly, the way her breathing had slowed, the way her fingers hadn’t moved away from his hair.

And then, softly—

“Soobin,” she murmured.

His throat went dry.

Her voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way he had never heard before.

And then, barely above a whisper—

“Can I kiss you?”

A sharp inhale left him.

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

And then, softly—desperately—

“Yes.”

She moved first.

The moment her lips met his, Soobin melted.

The exhaustion, the frustration, the weight of the night—it all vanished in an instant.

There was only her.

Her warmth. Her scent. The soft press of her lips, hesitant at first, then deeper as she pulled him closer.

His hands twitched at his sides, unsure if he was even allowed to touch her.

And then she sighed against his lips, tilting her head just slightly, and Soobin broke.

A quiet, broken sound left him as he finally gave in—his fingers gripping the fabric of her blazer, holding on like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

The kiss ended, but the moment didn’t.

Neither of them moved.

Soobin’s breath was uneven, his forehead resting against hers, his fingers still curled into the fabric of her blazer as if he was afraid to let go.

His mind was a mess. A beautiful, dizzying mess.

Because this was real.

This was her.

Her lips, her warmth, her everything—it had all been right there, and she had let him have it.

He pulled back just slightly, just enough to see her face.

And God.

He had always thought she was beautiful—always been painfully aware of it—but right now, in the dim glow of the office lights, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes softer than he had ever seen them…

She looked like something out of a dream.

A dream he had spent too many nights chasing.

He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, and before he could stop himself, his dimples peeked out—deep, boyish, dangerous.

Her eyes flickered down to them, and for a brief second, her breath hitched.

“You’re smiling,” she murmured.

Soobin exhaled, pressing his forehead back against hers. “I can’t help it.”

He felt her lips twitch, like she wanted to fight a smile of her own, but she didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her hand, tracing a single fingertip along the edge of one of his dimples, like she had been waiting to do it.

Soobin went still.

His stomach flipped, and suddenly, the air felt different—charged, heated, something deeper than before.

His voice dropped. “You’re killing me.”

She hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Am I?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching against her waist.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, voice raw. “How long I’ve wanted you.”

Her fingers stilled against his cheek.

Soobin exhaled, his dimples fading slightly, something hungrier settling in his gaze.

“You make me crazy, Noona,” he murmured. “Every time you look at me like that, every time you say my name—” He inhaled sharply. “I can’t think straight.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest.

“And now?” she whispered.

Soobin let out a quiet, desperate laugh.

“Now, I don’t want to think at all.”

Her breath caught.

And then he really looked at her—saw her.

The way her lashes trembled slightly. The way her lips were parted, waiting. The way her eyes, sharp and calculating in the boardroom, were now filled with something else entirely.

Something soft, something just for him.

It was unfair, how she could unravel him so easily.

And Soobin—young, eager, desperate Soobin—wanted nothing more than to worship her.

To show her that he could.

That he could be everything she needed.

That he wasn’t just some younger guy with a crush.

That he could make her feel good.

His grip tightened slightly, his fingertips pressing into her waist, and he felt the way she shivered against him.

“Tell me you want this too,” he pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath was uneven.

And then, after a second that felt like forever—

“I do.”

Soobin broke.

This time, he kissed her.

And it wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was fire, pure and consuming, months—years—of unspoken tension unraveling all at once.

Soobin groaned against her lips, his hands sliding up, cupping her face, tilting her head back so he could kiss her deeper.

She gasped, fingers tightening in his shirt, dragging him impossibly closer.

And just like that, Soobin stopped thinking entirely.

Because now, all he could focus on was her.

And all the ways he was about to prove himself.

The moment Soobin kissed her again, there was no turning back.

He wasn’t just kissing her—he was devouring her, hands tightening on her waist, pressing her into him like he could somehow merge them into one.

He was hungry, but not just for her touch.

For her approval.

For her pleasure.

For her.

She let out a soft, breathless sound against his lips, and Soobin swore he felt it in his soul.

His grip tightened, but there was a hesitance in the way his hands trembled against her.

Like he wanted to touch more of her. Like he wanted to ruin her.

But he was waiting.

Waiting for her.

She pulled back just slightly, just enough to see the wrecked look on his face—lips red, pupils blown wide, his dimples completely hidden beneath the haze of his desperation.

“Noona,” he breathed, and God, his voice was wrecked.

She arched a brow, fingers trailing lightly down his chest. “What is it, baby?”

Soobin froze.

His breath hitched—barely audible, but she felt it. The way his body tensed, the way his fingers twitched against her waist, the way his lips parted just slightly, like he was aching for more.

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. Oh, he liked that.

She ran a single finger down his jaw, nails scraping lightly against his skin. “Tell me what you want.”

Soobin let out a quiet, shaky breath.

“I want to make you feel good.”

The confession was raw, unfiltered, filled with something deeper than just lust.

She had never seen him like this before—so utterly lost in her, so needy, so willing to do anything just to prove himself.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until her lips brushed against his ear.

“Then be a good boy,” she murmured. “And show me.”

Something in him snapped.

The moment the words left her lips, Soobin broke.

His breath hitched, his grip tightening on her waist, his whole body shaking with restraint. She had given him permission. She had given herself to him.

And he was going to earn it.

His hands moved first—big, warm, shaking with need—gripping her hips before sliding up her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her blouse like he could memorize the feel of her.

“Baby,” she murmured, watching him carefully. “Take your time.”

Soobin let out a sharp, unsteady breath. “Noona, you don’t understand…”

His voice was wrecked, thick with something between adoration and desperation. He swallowed hard, his fingers flexing against her.

“I need to make you feel good.”

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes as she traced her fingers along his jaw. “Then go ahead, baby.”

That was all he needed.

Soobin moved instinctively—his body pressing her against the couch, his lips everywhere—her jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. His hands, big and trembling, traced every inch of her—learning, memorizing, worshiping.

And then, finally—his fingers slid lower.

He paused. His lips hovered over her skin, breath heavy, body tight with restraint.

“Noona,” he rasped. “Let me—”

His voice broke. He was already ruined for her.

She reached down, guiding his hand, whispering exactly what she wanted.

And Soobin?

Soobin obeyed.

And when he finally touched her, really touched her—

She swore, no one had ever made her feel this good.

__________

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