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kjmsupremacist · 11 months

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something sweet, a peach tree (mark/jaehyun)

Mark begins the summer after his junior year with an unpaid internship and no other plans. But when he agrees to go pick his baby niece up from her music lessons, her teacher, Jeong Jaehyun, catches his eye. Too bad he’s off limits, and not just because Mark’s niece is involved. Jaehyun is 41 to Mark’s 20.

To sate his curiosity about older men, Mark decides to look into becoming a sugar baby. He could use the money, after all. And he seems to find a willing patron right away. But for the first time in Mark’s like, he finds he might be in over his head.

Chapter 4 | prev next mlist

Characters: Mark, Jaehyun, other members of nct throughout

Genre: romance, angst, smut, age gap, sugar daddy!au

Pairing: Mark/Jaehyun

Warnings: AGE GAP (older jaehyun, younger mark), discussions of somnophilia

Rating: Explicit

Length: 7.8k

so I fucked the dilf <;<<

Mark figures he better tell Johnny sooner rather than later, because knowing him, he’d find out somehow anyway, and at least this way he won’t be mad.

Johnny is typing almost immediately.

>>> WHAT

>>> MARK ARE U JOKING

>>> what happened to my glucose guardian idea

>>> HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???

dude chill <;<<

wanna grab dinner tonight? <;<<

we can go to that 24 hr diner on 3rd <;<<

>>> uh yeah bc you need to explain immediately

>>> meet you at 6?

Mark likes the message and pockets his phone, getting back to work. He has to suppress a crazy smile, but he can’t really blame himself. All of this is crazy.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Johnny says instead of saying hello when Mark strolls up to him outside the diner later that night.

“I know,” Mark says. “But right now I’m also starving. C’mon.”

Johnny begrudgingly follows him inside and holds his tongue until the waitress takes their order. The instant she walks away, he slaps his hands on the table.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

Mark sighs out laughter. “Oh, god, Johnny, I hardly even know.” He scrubs his face with his hands, thinking. “Okay, so I did download the app, right? And I matched with this guy. And we agreed to meet for coffee this last Saturday. Only it turns out, that guy? It was fuckin’ Jaehyun. And obviously both of us were using screen names, and with sites like that, they recommend not posting a picture for, like, privacy reasons, right? So we had to figure it out right there. It was super awkward.”

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny mutters. “Wait, how the fuck is he affording that?”

“CEO of his own company, remember?” Mark says. “Apparently pretty successful. He has this sick-ass car, it’s so sexy.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Johnny says. “Okay, so you had the worst meet-cute ever at the coffee shop. And then?”

“Well, we decided to go for it anyway, ‘cause like, at least we knew we probably weren’t gonna get murdered, right? And apparently Jaehyun… liked me, too. Before all this. So.” Mark spreads his hands. “I’m fucking the DILF.”

“I—don’t even know what to say,” Johnny says. “Congratulations?”

“Thank you,” Mark interjects smugly.

“Be careful?” Johnny continues. “I mean, yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna murder you, but, like, if he tries to take you hiking or something, maybe just think twice.”

“Uh,” Mark says. “We’re kinda planning on hiking next weekend.”

“Christ,” Johnny groans. “Okay, just—tell me where you’re going and keep your location on, I guess.” He looks around, then leans in. “So—how was it?”

Mark rolls his eyes back, shaking his head. “Dude,” he says, and Johnny starts laughing. “Dude, dude, it was so fucking good.”

“Seriously?” Johnny cackles. “That good? Oh my god, man, okay, I mean, good for you.”

“He was so—” Mark cuts himself off as their waitress approaches. She sets their plates down in front of them. “Thanks,” Mark manages, waiting for her to leave again. They both dissolve into muffled laughter once she disappears behind the kitchen doors.

“Oh, fuck,” Johnny says. “Okay, yeah? He was so what?”

“Perfect,” Mark mumbles, cutting into his pancakes. “He has an incredible body. I hope I look like that when I’m forty.” He takes a bite of pancake, chewing quickly so he can keep talking. “And he has two dogs, and a pool in his backyard, and a fridge stocked with beer.”

“What kind of… payment is he giving you?” Johnny asks around a bite of omelette.

Mark shakes his head sheepishly. “I told him not to worry about it.” Johnny’s eyes bug out of his head. “I mean, I feel weird about it, you know?” Mark defends quickly. “I know him. He teaches Lucy! I can’t accept—an allowance from him. Besides, he’s so hot that it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, so you’ll fuck your niece’s music teacher, but you draw the line at accepting money from him?” Johnny points a hot-sauce-covered fork at Mark. “You’re being stupid.”

“He pays for all our meals together, and he said he’d buy my groceries,” Mark says. “I just can’t imagine getting a—a bank transfer from Jaehyun, that’s all.”

“Missed opportunity, ‘s’all I’m saying,” Johnny says.

Mark just shakes his head. He thinks back to the weekend, back to fucking Jaehyun poolside just the afternoon before. He doesn’t think he’s missing out on anything.

* * *

Tuesday Mark has to stay late again, so Annie picks Lucy up instead. Mark’s torn between relief and disappointment—on the one hand, it’s probably good to give him and Jaehyun a little more time to cool off before they have to act normal together in public, but on the other, Mark misses him and wants to see him. He texts Jaehyun to let him know ahead of time; Jaehyun replies with a sad face.

But Thursday rolls around, and Mark is released from unpaid labor hell on time, so he makes his way over to the music academy.

Mark files in with the parents, but Lucy wants to finish playing some kind of game at the piano with one of her classmates, so he hovers awkwardly by the wall as the classroom empties. Jaehyun’s been talking to the parents, but Mark feels him looking at him out of the corner of his eye, just as Mark is. Eventually, Jaehyun manages to peel himself away and strolls over to Mark.

“Hi,” Mark says quietly when Jaehyun gets close.

“Hey,” Jaehyun replies. They both watch Lucy and her friend for a moment, silent. “How are you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Good, I’m good,” Mark says. He kind of wants to scream, or burst out laughing. The whole thing is just ridiculous. “How are you?”

“Also good,” Jaehyun replies. Mark can hear the same barely-controlled mirth lurking beneath his voice. “Missed you Tuesday.”

“Yeah, you know, my fuckin’ boss,” Mark sighs.

“Well, one more day,” Jaehyun says. “At least you have a fun weekend to look forward to.”

Mark looks up, finally meeting Jaehyun’s eyes. “Yes, I do,” he says softly, grinning. Jaehyun smiles back.

“Mark-samchon, I won, I won!” Lucy comes bouncing up, tugging at Mark’s pant leg.

“This time,” her friend says, but he’s grinning, too.

“Congratulations,” Mark says to her. “Did you tell your friend good game?”

“Oh!” Lucy whirls, offering her tiny hand to her friend. “Good game, Teddy!” They shake clumsily, breaking out into giggles.

“Alright, let’s get home before your Eomma and Appa start to worry,” Mark says, smoothing Lucy’s hair and giving Teddy’s dad a friendly smile before turning back to Jaehyun. “Thanks, Jaehyun. See you next week! Say bye, Lucy.”

“Bye, bye, bye!” Lucy chirps, taking Mark’s hand and following him out of the classroom. When Mark passes by the window, he catches Jaehyun’s eye and sees that he’s still smiling.

Friday is excruciating, especially because Mark’s boss is the kind of guy who believes everyone should live to work, so the minutes scrape by even slower than usual. But at last Mark is free to go, right at five o’clock sharp, and he can go agonize over what to pack.

One hour later sees Mark heading out onto the sidewalk with a small duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He slides it into the backseat of Jaehyun’s (stupid sexy) car, then plops down into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him.

“Hi baby,” Jaehyun says while Mark works on his seatbelt. He’s in a t-shirt and shorts, shades on and bangs swept off his forehead. Mark swallows roughly, missing the latch of the seatbelt. “How was work?”

“Awful,” Mark groans. He finally gets the seatbelt to click into place. “It’s like they wanna suck out your whole soul before you even get to try the parts of work that can actually be kinda fun or rewarding or whatever.”

Jaehyun hums sympathetically as he pulls off the curb. “Yeah, being an intern is no fun,” he agrees. “But it’s not forever.”

“I keep trying to tell myself that,” Mark mumbles.

Jaehyun takes one hand off the wheel and reaches for one of Mark’s. “Okay, no work talk. What do you want for dinner?”

“Ooh,” Mark says, taking Jaehyun’s offered hand gratefully. He hesitates, then brings it up to his lips for a swift kiss brushed across the knuckles. “Umm, I dunno, I’m kind of in the mood for shitty, greasy American food.”

“I have to agree,” Jaehyun says. He thinks for a moment, then glances at Mark out of the corner of his eye. “Ever been to Dick’s?”

Dick’s Drive-In is a local chain in the Seattle area, a sort of hidden gem. College students love it because it’s fast, cheap, and easy. “Oh, I could kill like three special cheeseburgers right now,” Mark agrees. “Yeah, let’s go to Dick’s.”

They order four burgers (three for Mark, like he said; one for Jaehyun), three fries, a chocolate shake (Jaehyun), and a scoop of rocky road ice cream (Mark) and continue the drive home. Mark works on his ice cream before it melts and feeds Jaehyun fries at stoplights so he doesn’t get the steering wheel oily.

When they finally get back to Jaehyun’s, the sun is just starting to set. Mark grabs the food and carries it up the front walk while Jaehyun takes his bag for him.

The dogs dance around Mark’s ankles as he carefully picks his way over to the kitchen and deposits their food safely onto the table in the breakfast nook. “Hi guys,” he says, bending down to give them attention once his hands are free. “I think you’re just excited because I smell like burgers, but I’ll take it.”

Jaehyun comes in and lovingly shoos the dogs out of the way. “You guys have your own food. If I give you a bite of all my meals, I’ll never eat in peace again.”

Mark’s already unwrapping his first burger, ice cream finished and container in the trash. “God, I love Dick's,” he mumbles. Jaehyun snorts. “Oh, shut up. You’re supposed to be the mature one!”

“Sorry,” Jaehyun says, but he’s laughing.

“Also, fuck you, it’s true. I love Dick’s, and I love dicks. That shouldn’t be a surprise,” Mark mutters. This just makes Jaehyun laugh harder. “Jesus.”

They finish dinner pretty quick. Mark balks at the way Jaehyun eats his fries—dipped in his shake, instead of with ketchup like a normal person. Jaehyun coaxes him to try it, and Mark begrudgingly admits it’s pretty good.

“Well,” Jaehyun says once they’ve cleaned up. “What now?”

Mark glances outside. It’s still a little light out, and they probably won’t get eaten alive by bugs. “Can we take a dip?” he suggests. “We’re gonna be tired tomorrow, and it’s supposed to be kinda cold Sunday.”

Jaehyun nods. “Of course. You packed swim trunks?”

“Yep!” Mark packed two pairs, just in case.

They get changed and head out onto the patio. The sky is a beautiful red; they probably have an hour before the light dies in the horizon. Plenty of time to swim and fuck around.

Jaehyun climbs down the ladder at the deep end; Mark just slips in over the edge. He plunges himself underwater completely, then resurfaces, combing his hair out of his eyes. As soon as he’s got his eyes open, Jaehyun splashes him right in the face.

“Hey!” Mark splutters, blindly splashing him back.

A heated water fight ensues, the two of them chasing each other around, fingers slipping over wrists, legs thrashing, until finally Mark gets Jaehyun pinned up against the wall, hands tight around his biceps. They quiet, catching their breath, watching each other.

“Gonna let me go?” Jaehyun asks. He wriggles in Mark’s grip, but Mark doesn’t relent. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” Mark says nonchalantly. “I think you know what I want.”

Understanding dawns, and with it, a dark mischief. “Ah,” Jaehyun says, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, I think I do.” Mark feels one of his arms shift under his palm, and then Jaehyun’s hand closes around Mark’s cock.

Mark swallows a noise of surprise, instead leaning closer and kissing Jaehyun. He releases Jaehyun’s arm so he can reach between their bodies and return the favor. Jaehyun’s whole body twitches when Mark touches him, and Mark presses closer. It makes it harder for them to touch each other, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to feel Jaehyun’s body against his, his heartbeat to Mark’s heartbeat.

Mark breaks the kiss so he can mouth over Jaehyun’s pulse point and the pretty column of his throat. Jaehyun’s already panting above him, bits of his voice bleeding into his breath. “Missed you,” Mark murmurs. “Thought about you every night, you know.” He nips at the skin over Jaehyun’s collarbone. “Never come so hard all by myself in my life, ‘m so serious.”

“You came to the thought of me?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Mark says. “Why, haven’t you thought about me?”

“I have, I mean—I wanted to,” Jaehyun says. “But I couldn’t—I knew it wouldn’t feel as good. So I didn’t. I wanted you.”

“Oh,” Mark whispers. It’s actually a very sweet confession. “Well, I’m right here. How do you want me?”

Jaehyun takes a moment to contemplate it, rolling his hips up into Mark’s fist before gently pushing him away. “Get up on the edge of the pool.”

“Huh?” Mark’s taken aback, but he does as he’s told, wading around Jaehyun and pushing himself up so he’s sitting with his knees bent over the ledge. The air is still warm, so he doesn’t even feel a chill.

Jaehyun walks up to him, spreading his legs with a firm hand on each thigh. “I wanna blow you,” he explains, like it’s obvious. “Figured this way would be the easiest on my knees.”

Mark coughs out laughter. “I mean, I’m not gonna stop you,” he says, leaning back on his hands.

Jaehyun responds by simply reaching for his waistband, tugging it down just enough to free Mark’s cock, already hard from their shenanigans in the pool. Mark scoots a little closer to the edge so it’s easier for Jaehyun to reach. Jaehyun strokes him a couple times, and then drops his jaw open and sinks down.

Mark drops his head back, moaning openmouthed and unabashed. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he mumbles. Jaehyun bobs his head once, twice, then takes him deeper, hollowing his cheeks. “Shit, Jaehyun, you’re good at this. Guess—guess you’ve had plenty of time to practice. Oh god.”

Mark’s mouth always gets ahead of him when he’s fucking. It’s kind of something he’s just accepted. But it’s never as bad as when he’s getting sucked off. He’s not sure why—maybe it’s because all he has to do is sit there, so it’s not like he has anything to distract him. He rolls his head to the side, half resting it on his shoulder and looking down at Jaehyun, nestled between his legs.

“Mm,” he hums, crossing his ankles behind Jaehyun’s back and bringing him closer. “You look so pretty, hyung.” Jaehyun moans around him, and the vibrations from his voice have Mark curling forward, palms lifting off the concrete. “Jesus,” he mutters, settling back but letting his head hang, chin almost touching his chest, watching Jaehyun through his eyelashes. He’s gagging softly with each stroke; not enough that Mark is worried, but enough for thick saliva to drip down the length of Mark’s cock, getting both of them wet and messy.

Jaehyun speeds up a little, and Mark can’t help the choked out noises of pleasure that force their way up his throat. He leans forward, threading the fingers of one hand through Jaehyun’s hair. He doesn’t pull, just lets his hand move with Jaehyun’s head, eyes half-lidded as he follows Jaehyun’s mouth. His body hardly feels like his, completely at Jaehyun’s mercy. Mark doesn’t mind one bit.

He knows no one can see them. All the properties out here are built for privacy. But still, in the gathering dark, it’s not as obvious that they’re utterly alone. Mark moans quietly, imagining how they would look to an outsider. Jaehyun, head buried in Mark’s crotch, and Mark, legs spread and arms shaking. He feels dirty in the best way, depraved and free, and he accidentally thrusts up into Jaehyun’s mouth.

“Fuck, sorry, ‘m so sorry,” he stutters when Jaehyun gags hard. “Didn’t mean to, just felt so good, I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun shakes his head slightly, humming his forgiveness. He does shift his hands to Mark’s hips and holds him down, which honestly only turns Mark on more. Mark’s hands slip down to grip the edge of the pool, knuckles white and palms scraping against the rough surface.

He’s surprised to find that he’s already close. He wasn’t joking when he said every night, so he shouldn’t be pent up, but somehow it feels like it anyway. Maybe it’s just that Mark is kind of obsessed with Jaehyun, and being around him dials all of Mark’s senses to ten.

“Jaehyun,” he chokes out. “I’m close, I’m gonna—can I—will you—?”

Jaehyun understands. He blinks up at Mark, nodding slightly, rubbing a soft circle into Mark’s hipbone, silent permission. Mark gasps through a few more breaths before finally coming, hard, the pads of his fingers getting a little scraped up from the rough surface of the pool’s edge as he scrabbles weakly. He realizes only faintly that he’s letting out a string of incoherent noises, the rushing in his ears so loud he can’t hear anything else.

Jaehyun pulls off after Mark slumps back, spent, with a wet pop. He tucks Mark back into his shorts and reaches out to him. “Come back in, it’s getting cold.”

“What about you?” Mark asks hazily, slipping back into the pool and snaking his heavy arms around Jaehyun’s waist.

Jaehyun doesn’t reply, just kisses him, soft and slow. Mark melts into it, letting Jaehyun guide him. “Me?” Jaehyun hums when they break apart. “Well, it’s getting dark. If we’re going to do anything, we should head back inside.”

“Sure,” Mark agrees, kissing the point of Jaehyun’s jaw and reluctantly letting him go so they can wade over to the other side and get out. “I’m getting pruney anyway.”

“Oh, very sexy,” Jaehyun says sarcastically as he walks up the steps at the shallow end, grinning over his shoulder at Mark.

“You don’t think my wrinkly raisin toes are hot?” Mark replies, nearly toppling himself kicking one of his feet up to show, following Jaehyun out of the pool.

“Sorry, baby,” Jaehyun says, voice dripping fake sympathy. “I’m just not into feet. Catch.” He tosses Mark a towel.

They towel off and head inside. Jaehyun lets the dogs out briefly in hopes they’ll be fine for the rest of the night, and then he and Mark make their way upstairs. Mark’s whole body feels waterlogged, some mix of the swimming and the best head he’s ever received in his life, so each step feels like trying to drag a stack of cinderblocks uphill.

“Tired?” Jaehyun asks, waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Mark nods with a sheepish grin. “If you’re too tired, that’s okay. For me, I mean.”

Mark shakes his head vehemently. “No, I’m definitely fucking you whenever you let me, so.”

Jaehyun laughs, pink blush blooming on his cheeks. “Okay,” he agrees.

They both begrudgingly admit they should wash the chlorine off before rolling into bed, so Mark lags behind, digging into his bag to find clean underwear and his facewash before following Jaehyun into the bathroom.

Jaehyun’s rinsing off his toothbrush when Mark enters, bent over the sink with his drying hair falling into his eyes. Mark puts his things down on the counter and sidles up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, one hand sneaking up to his chest, and presses his lips to his spine.

“Hi,” Jaehyun says softly. The only thing that betrays his surprise is the quickening of his heartbeat, just barely noticeable under Mark’s fingertips.

“Hey,” Mark says into his skin. Another kiss. “Hyung.” He peeks around Jaehyun’s shoulder to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Thought we were showering.” Jaehyun raises his eyebrows.

“If you think about it, it makes more sense if I fuck you now,” Mark says. “Otherwise we’ll have to clean up again.”

Jaehyun’s amusement manifests in a crease between his brows and the narrowing of his eyes. “That does make sense,” he says.

Mark grins shyly. “Plus,” he adds, placing one last kiss between Jaehyun’s shoulder blades before turning to head back into the bedroom, “I want you to watch in the mirror.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says, his voice suddenly weak. Mark hides laughter as he hurries to find the lube and a condom.

Jaehyun has stepped out of his swim trunks and kicked them aside by the time Mark returns, centering himself between the two sinks so he’ll have a flat surface to rest his head. Mark sets the condom on the counter and runs a hand down Jaehyun’s spine, watching him shiver. He pulls away to pump some lube out on his palm, spreading it briefly before he moves his hand around Jaehyun’s waist and lets it roam downwards, moving in close so Jaehyun’s trapped between him and the counter, and ghosts his palm over Jaehyun’s cock. Jaehyun’s hips twitch in response, and Mark laughs softly.

“Mark,” Jaehyun complains, quiet.

“Mm, I shouldn’t be mean, right?” Mark hums. He still doesn’t quite touch him. “Shouldn’t be mean to my lovely hyung, who just choked on my cock in the pool, who hasn’t come all week because he was waiting for me.”

“Mark.” It’s more insistent this time, and Mark relents, wrapping his hand around Jaehyun’s cock and stroking him slowly. Jaehyun blinks rapidly, taking a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Pretty,” Mark murmurs, the word escaping before he can stop it. Jaehyun’s cheeks are rosy pink, though, so maybe it doesn’t matter. He leans back against Mark; Mark fits his other hand between them to push against his lower back instead of letting him rest his weight against Mark’s body. “Wrong way, hyung,” he says. “Bend over.”

He guides Jaehyun down. To Mark’s surprise, Jaehyun doesn’t pillow his face in his arms. Instead, he grips the edge of the counter with his hands and lays his cheek right on the bare marble, blinking up at Mark’s reflection.

“Like this?” he whispers, and Mark swallows dryly.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” he croaks out.

Mark fingers him open, one hand on his cock and the other pushing one, two, three fingers inside, watching as Jaehyun’s face contorts with pain and then pleasure, his soft moans echoing off the tile. Mark murmurs praise, voice shaking a little in anticipation by the time they’re almost done. There’s a fog of condensation on the counter next to Jaehyun’s mouth, his breath hot and wanting.

Finally, Jaehyun’s loose enough that Mark’s impatience wins over. His fingers are messy, so he tears the condom open with his teeth, discarding the wrapper on the counter and shimmying out of his shorts, sliding them across the floor with a push from his toes so they’re out of the way. Jaehyun watches him in the mirror, blinking slowly, his eyes dark. When Mark catches him looking, he smiles.

“You just came, and you’re already so worked up again, baby,” he says softly.

“Your fault,” Mark accuses, lining himself up with Jaehyun’s entrance.

Lines appear on Jaehyun’s cheeks and next to the corners of his eyes as his smile grows. “I’m flattered, then.”

Mark presses a flat hand to Jaehyun’s lower back, holding him in place as he guides himself in. “Ah, shit.” He lets out a soft hiss of pleasure. “Always so tight, hyung, no matter how long I take to open you up. Oh, fuck yes.” He bends over Jaehyun as he bottoms out, placing reverent kisses down his spine. “So good.” He can feel the heat of his own breath against Jaehyun’s skin when he moans, can hear his heart hammering in his ears. It’s a very good thing Jaehyun already made him come tonight. Somehow, in the week since Mark last fucked Jaehyun, he’d managed to forget just how fucking good he feels, hot and tight and wet around him, better than anything else he’s ever had.

It doesn’t take Jaehyun too long to adjust, and soon Mark is thrusting in and out at an even pace, careful not to go too hard so the edge of the counter doesn’t drive painfully into Jaehyun’s hips. There’s something about this, too—claiming another space of Jaehyun’s house. Every time Jaehyun looks in his mirror, he’ll remember tonight, remember Mark calling him hyung, bending him over the counter, and fucking him until he comes. There’s a possessive part of Mark that takes great pleasure in the thought. Mark is going to leave pieces of himself in this house, plenty for Jaehyun to remember him by when they’re apart.

“Faster,” Jaehyun pants, meeting Mark’s eyes in the mirror. “Deeper. You know how I like it.”

Mark complies, rolling his hips in deep and then snapping them back fast. The movement punches a sweet moan out of Jaehyun, and the sound makes heat curl in Mark’s belly. “Better?” he stutters.

“Hn, a little slower, just a little,” Jaehyun replies, forcing his drooping eyelids open again so he can hold Mark’s gaze. Mark slows a little, that familiar desperation to please him, to be perfect, flooding his veins. “Yeah, right there,” Jaehyun murmurs after a moment. “Fuck, yes.”

Mark groans, low vibrations in his chest. “Good?” Jaehyun nods wordlessly. “Am I good, hyung?”

“Perfect, baby boy,” Jaehyun replies.

Mark fucks him just like that, clenching his jaw against his rising arousal so he can focus on keeping the right rhythm. Jaehyun gasps prettily when he thrusts in and lets out the sweetest moans every time he pulls out, the head of his cock just catching on Jaehyun’s rim before he pushes back in again.

“This is what I meant,” Mark says, words blurring in his clumsy mouth. “Don’t care what you say. You’re cute when you’re getting fucked, hyung, so beautiful, look at yourself.”

He sees Jaehyun looking, and hopes he can see what Mark sees. Dark lashes framing deep brown eyes, brows pinched; a soft pink mouth, parted to reveal perfect teeth and a cute tongue; hair slicked off his forehead from their time in the pool, brown with just a few strands of silver showing through, almost like highlights. His shoulders broad and glistening with a thin layer of sweat, his back made of ridges of muscle, narrowing into a slim waist. Like a perfectly-shaped Greek hero, half-divine.

Mark reaches down and wraps his hand around Jaehyun’s cock again. Jaehyun keens at his touch, hips spasming before settling again. Mark laughs. “Still sensitive,” he says softly. He thumbs over the slit, then strokes him in time with his thrusts, keeping his pace steady so he doesn’t overwhelm Jaehyun.

“M-mark.” Jaehyun’s hands slip and Mark can see a red imprint from the edge of the counter. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good, baby, you’re gonna make me come, please.”

“Please what?” Mark asks. “What do you want?”

“Harder,” Jaehyun demands.

Mark moans low, pushing into him deep and rough. He’s been waiting to let go a little, and now he can, shoving Jaehyun up against the counter with every thrust. Jaehyun flings an arm out, bracing his palm against the mirror with a cry.

“Yes, yes,” he mumbles. “Unh, baby, fuck, keep going—” His breath hitches over another moan. Mark’s vision narrows just to Jaehyun; he hardly even sees the room around them. Fatigue is setting in, but he can barely feel it, because Jaehyun feels so good around him and his voice is perfect and his pretty, pretty face is scrunched up in pleasure, and—

Mark feels hot come shoot out over his fingers. Jaehyun’s whole body shakes, and Mark forces himself to slow a little, to drag out Jaehyun’s orgasm and make it good for him. He was on the edge, but he can wait. He can do anything, he’s pretty sure, if it’s for Jaehyun.

Eventually, he stops once Jaehyun is spent, releasing him and pulling out so Jaehyun can move. It takes him a second, but Jaehyun pushes himself off the counter on slightly unsteady arms and turns to find Mark.

“Come here, baby,” he murmurs, taking Mark’s face in his hands, bringing him close, and kissing him. His chest is still heaving; Mark can feel the tremors of weak aftershocks running through his body. “Always make me feel so good.”

“Got it all over your cabinets,” Mark mumbles, looking over his shoulder to see the mess dripping down the glossy finish on the wood. Jaehyun kisses him again, laughing, but Mark’s too hard for anything to be funny, and pulls himself away. “Need t’ come, hyung, please. I’ll do anything, just touch me.” Jaehyun hums, cocking his head to the side. “I’d even lick it up, if you asked me, I’m serious.”

Jaehyun grins. “As much as I would like to see that,” he says, “I’m a little worried you’d get a splinter. I’ll take care of you, baby, c’mere.”

Mark steps closer and Jaehyun rolls the condom off his cock and then brings Mark’s soiled hand to his, swiping up his own come with a couple fingers and spreading it on Mark’s cock instead so there’s not too much friction. He ducks his head and kisses Mark again, almost lazy, his tongue running over Mark’s lower lip as he jerks Mark off, letting Mark roll his hips into his fist.

Mark comes like that, with his cock in Jaehyun’s fist and Jaehyun’s tongue in his mouth, Jaehyun’s smell smothering everything else. He moans pathetically as he feels himself finally release, covering Jaehyun’s knuckles with come, some of it dripping onto the floor.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun murmurs, dipping down to nip at Mark’s jaw and neck. “Such a good boy.”

He shoos Mark into the shower once they’re sure Mark isn’t going to topple over from exhaustion, and then cleans up the cabinets and the floor before joining him. He washes some sudsy shampoo off Mark’s forehead before it can run into his eyes, watching him fondly.

“You know,” he says. “We should both go get tested so we don’t have to use the condoms anymore.” Mark blinks, struggling to register the words. “I want to feel it when you come. I like it messy. I think you do, too.”

Mark groans, leaning in to bite Jaehyun’s chest in retaliation—not too hard, but enough to make him squeak indignantly. “Hyung, if you keep talking, I’m gonna fuck you again, right now.”

“Rich coming from someone who’s about one second away from passing out,” Jaehyun replies calmly, steading Mark when he sways under the water.

Mark can’t even argue with that one, his eyes fluttering shut. “Y’got me there.”

* * *

Jaehyun somehow gets up without disturbing Mark the next morning, and comes to grab him only when the car is all packed and they’re almost ready to go.

“I would’ve helped!” Mark protests, scrambling out of bed.

“I don’t mind,” Jaehyun says. “You need the sleep more than I do.”

Mark gets changed and they pile into the car with the dogs. They stop at a cafe on the way out of the city, picking up breakfast to eat on the way and sandwiches to bring with them on their hike. Jaehyun throws them in with the ice packs he put in a little insulated lunch bag.

They get to the trailhead within an hour, the drive easy along the open highway.

“Is it a hard hike?” Mark asks as he slathers sunscreen onto his arms.

“It’s not too bad,” Jaehyun says.

It turns out to be a little steep in places—Jaehyun ends up having to carry Bobby most of the way—but it’s a good, easy workout, and not too miserable since the trail is well-shaded. They make it to the top in about two hours, and they only pass a couple people on the way.

There’s a small, gentle waterfall on the opposite side of the clearing that spills into a swimming hole before the river continues downward, sparkling clean and inviting in the early afternoon sun. Jaehyun releases the dogs to the water, then helps Mark unpack their lunches on a nearby rock.

“It’s beautiful,” Mark says. “I’m surprised we’re alone.”

“It’s not as well known as a lot of the other hikes around here,” Jaehyun says with a shrug. “And I guess next week is the Fourth, so maybe people are out of town.”

“Right, it’s fucking July,” Mark mumbles, shaking his head. “Fuck.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “When does school start?”

“August twenty-eight,” Mark replies. “Which isn’t soon, but it’s also not, like, not soon.”

Jaehyun hands him his sandwich. “You have plenty of summer left,” he says gently. And then— “You’ve been seeing your friends, too, right? Not just me?”

“Yeah!” Mark confirms, taking the sandwich. “Most of them are out of town, but I’m seeing the ones that are here.” He grins at Jaehyun. “Don’t worry, I’m not that obsessed with you.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

Once they’re done eating, they pack up their trash and then head to the water, shirts discarded on a log, socks stuffed into their shoes. Mark sits under the waterfall for a while, relishing in the cold, while Jaehyun plays fetch with the dogs. After a while, he ties them up away from the edge so they’re safe, putting out a bowl of water for them and feeding them treats, then wades back in.

“Come out from there,” he calls to Mark. “You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Mark shakes his head, but he obeys, pushing away from the rocks and paddling out to the center where Jaehyun is treading water.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he says quietly. “It’s beautiful.”

Jaehyun reaches out for him, grabs his wrist. “Of course,” he says. “I’m sharing nice things with you. Isn’t that what a sugar daddy is supposed to do?”

"Ugh,” Mark groans, tipping his head back, face scrunched up in embarrassment.

Jaehyun laughs brightly, pulling him close. “Look at me, baby,” he says.

Mark looks, and Jaehyun kisses him. It’s sweet and soft, no heat behind it, no agenda. Just a kiss. Mark smiles against his lips.

They stay in the water for a while, floating around, staying close, exchanging chaste kisses and poking each other when they get bored. The dogs rest in the shade. Here, in the quiet tranquil of the pond, the rest of Mark’s life seems so far away. He could stay here forever, he thinks, watching Jaehyun, soothed by the cool water lapping at his skin. He wouldn’t mind.

But soon, Jaehyun insists they get going. “I’d rather drive home before the sun starts setting,” he says, even though it’s hardly even three. But Mark doesn’t protest. Jaehyun hands him a towel he apparently packed, and they get their shoes back on, though they both decide to just leave their shirts off for the hike down. Mark trips over rocks and roots staring at Jaehyun’s back.

The drive back is peaceful, not too many cars on the road, the evening still young.

“So, next weekend, I was thinking—maybe I could take you out to dinner,” Jaehyun says nonchalantly. “Like, fancy dinner. There’s a place I like downtown. They can usually get me a reservation on short notice—I taught the owner’s daughter.”

Mark blinks. “Oh, sure!” he says. “I mean, I’d love that. You think it’ll be… okay?”

Jaehyun glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, I doubt we’ll see anyone we know there. And… if anyone asks, you’re a family friend. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

Mark nods, reassured. “Okay. But, uh—how fancy?”

“You’ll probably want a suit, and maybe some nice shoes, but you don’t have to wear a tie or anything.”

“I don’t have a suit,” Mark admits weakly. “The last time I needed one was for formals in high school. I have, like, a suit jacket I wear for interviews but I usually just pair it with khakis or something.”

But Jaehyun just smiles. “I’ll take your measurements when we get home, and pick something out for you, okay?” When Mark hesitates, he adds, “I would take you shopping, but I think that might be a little suspicious.”

“It’s not that,” Mark says, fidgeting. “You really don’t have to spend money on me. It’s okay. I’ll like you just the same if you don’t.”

Jaehyun reaches one hand over and rests it on Mark’s knee. “It’s really not a lot to me,” he says softly. “And I told you, I like it.”

Mark finds himself growing warm; he peeks up at Jaehyun, but Jaehyun’s eyes are still on the road. “Okay, if you’re sure,” he says meekly. “I mean, I really appreciate it. I’m just saying you don’t have to.”

Jaehyun runs his thumb back and forth over the top of Mark’s thigh. “I know,” he says.

The rest of the ride is quiet, mostly meaningless small talk until they pull into Jaehyun’s driveway. They unload the car, and Mark helps put things away while Jaehyun takes care of the dogs. The sky is just turning from blue to pink when they finally settle in the kitchen for a quick dinner.

Jaehyun has some pre-made stew mixes that he heats on the stove. It’s a comforting meal, good for their tired bodies. They eat in exhausted silence and clean up together, then finally traipse upstairs.

In the shower, they take turns shampooing each other’s hair. Mark’s hands are a little clumsy, but Jaehyun doesn’t complain, even though he just gave Mark a killer scalp massage. Part of the clumsiness might be because Mark can’t stop staring at Jaehyun’s body, but—really, who can blame him? He can feel heat rising to his cheeks, desire stirring in his stomach. He hopes Jaehyun will say yes.

Jaehyun indulges Mark in little kisses as they rinse off, only prying himself away once they’re done so he can step out of the shower and grab his towel. Mark follows closely, unsure how to voice what he wants. He’s tired; they both are, but he still wants to have Jaehyun, can’t deny the feeling in his gut.

Mark sticks close to his side while they pat in their lotion, elbow knocking against Jaehyun’s. Jaehyun glances at him in the mirror.

“You’re being quiet,” he says. “What is it?”

Mark watches his own eyes widen in surprise. “Um,” he says.

Jaehyun turns to him, taking his wrist and making Mark turn, too. “Baby,” he says softly, stepping closer. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but do you think I can’t tell when you want something?” He brings Mark’s hand up, flips it over, and kisses his palm.

“I wanna fuck you,” Mark mumbles. “Please.”

Jaehyun releases Mark’s hand back to his side with a smile. “But I’m tired,” he says. “And so are you.” But he leans in and kisses Mark all the same, one hand cupping his jaw. Mark wants to protest, but Jaehyun kisses so nice. It’s hard for him to pull away.

“Please, hyung,” he manages eventually. “You—you won’t have to do anything. I just want to feel you around me, that’s all I need. I won’t even move, I promise.” He blinks up at Jaehyun, earnest. “I could come just from that, I could.”

A smirk twitches at the corner of Jaehyun’s lips. “I suppose,” he says. “C’mon.” He turns and heads into the bedroom, scooping up the lube from the counter where they left it the night before.

They didn’t turn on the lights when they first came in since the sky was still light, and now, the dim glow is perfect. Jaehyun crawls into bed, leaving the shades open, and Mark follows him, a sort of excited energy thrumming under his skin.

Jaehyun holds his arms out to him, and Mark clambers into them, kissing clumsily at his neck and chest, running his fingers over his ribs, his waist. “Sorry ‘m so needy,” he says, though he has a feeling Jaehyun likes it.

He’s right. Jaehyun smooths his hair back, off his forehead. “It’s okay,” he says. “Means you want me. I think I can live with that.”

Mark grins as he shuffles backwards down the mattress so he can reach Jaehyun’s entrance, spreading his legs. “Lube?”

He opens him up nice and slow, careful not to push it. He said Jaehyun wouldn’t have to do anything; he meant it. He stretches Jaehyun one finger at a time, making sure he’s nice and loose before moving on to the next and using a little more lube than is probably strictly necessary.

“Being so gentle,” Jaehyun says.

“Only wanna make you feel good,” Mark replies, and Jaehyun gives him a fond smile.

When he’s finally ready, Mark has Jaehyun roll into his side, then slips in behind him, pulling the covers up on top of them before the A/C makes them too cold. He fumbles with the condom for a second, finally rolling it on, and presses his tip to Jaehyun’s entrance.

“Ready?” he murmurs, lips brushing Jaehyun’s skin.

“Mm-hm,” Jaehyun breathes.

Mark pushes in, and can’t quiet an almost relieved moan. It’s like his body just misses Jaehyun’s, all the time. He mouths over Jaehyun’s spine, one hand holding his hip as he sinks all the way in and bottoms out. “Mm, hyung, thank you,” he slurs, pressing wet kisses to his back and the nape of his neck.

“Feel full,” Jaehyun sighs. “Feels good.”

They settle like that, one of Mark’s arms outstretched under the pillow, the other curled around Jaehyun’s waist so he can get a hand on Jaehyun’s cock, stroking slowly, both of them quiet as they adjust to the feeling of being so connected. The sun sets, the sky now just barely orange at the horizon, the stars appearing slowly in the darkening sky. Mark kisses a constellation into Jaehyun’s back, slow and gentle. His head feels like it’s full of wet cotton, everything muted. Even though there’s no friction, the constant, hot pressure of Jaehyun around him is consuming. Besides, there’s something about this—lying here like they’re cuddling, when in reality it’s something much less innocent—that absolutely gets to Mark.

“You feel perfect, hyung,” Mark whispers. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Jaehyun’s tone is almost dreamy; Mark wishes he could bottle the sound. “And it’ll still be okay if I fall asleep. Just, by the way. You don’t have to pull out or anything.”

This sends a spike of arousal through Mark, almost violent, like he’s been speared in the stomach by wanting. “Oh,” he groans, pressing his forehead against Jaehyun’s back, eyebrows scrunched. “God, hyung, that’s so hot. You’d let me use you like that?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says softly. “‘Cause I’m older, I get tired more easily, but if it’s just like this, I don’t mind. When you need it, you can. Just ask.”

Something about the way Jaehyun’s talking, like Mark’s too young to curb his impulses, goes straight to Mark’s dick. It doesn’t matter that it’s not true—Mark likes to think he still possesses a fraction of decorum—the image of himself being that desperate and needy, and Jaehyun offering himself as a willing solution to that need makes Mark feel hot all over. “Fuck,” he groans softly. “Whenever I need it?”

“Yeah, yes,” Jaehyun agrees. He’s clenching around Mark; Mark isn’t sure if it’s on purpose or not, but either way, it’s turning his brain fuzzy.

“Wh-what about if I wake up first in the morning, and you’re still sleeping?” Mark ventures. He’s not sure where the idea comes from, but once he voices it, he can’t stop imagining it.

Jaehyun makes a pretty noise in the back of his throat. “I’d love to wake up to you fucking me, baby,” he says lowly. “Like you couldn’t wait, couldn’t resist.”

“That’s so dirty, hyung, fuck,” Mark grits out, panting. It’s a little humiliating, being so close, so strung out, from hardly anything at all. But Mark has let his imagination run away with him, and Jaehyun sounds so good, voice rough from arousal and slow from fatigue. Besides, Jaehyun’s body always feels so right around Mark’s. It shouldn’t come as a surprise how much even this affects him, he supposes.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t move,” Jaehyun says, his tone light and teasing, and Mark realizes his hips have been twitching, short, aborted movements, accidental.

“Can’t help it,” Mark says, hoping he sounds sorry enough that Jaehyun’ll take pity.

It works. Jaehyun grinds his hips back against him with an indulgent hum. “No?”

“Mm, hyung, getting close,” Mark says, choosing not to answer. He speeds up his hand a little, pleased when more precome dribbles out onto his palm. “I think you are too, you’re so wet.”

Jaehyun only moans softly in response, fucking himself back on Mark’s cock and then thrusting forward into his fist. It only takes a few more stifled moments before both of them are coming, trapped against each other’s bodies, Mark buried deep inside Jaehyun, Jaehyun spilling over Mark’s fingers.

Mark slumps against the pillow, the exertion catching up to him and leaving his whole body feeling heavy. Jaehyun’s the one that scoots himself away first, nudging Mark until he pulls out. They clean up quickly, swiping up the come on the sheets before it soaks in so they can finally go to bed.

Curled up, face to face with the comforter tucked around their shoulders, Mark fights sleep, blinking slow and tracing the lines of Jaehyun’s face in the dark with his eyes. “Did you mean it?” he asks after a few moments, a soft whisper, barely audible. “About—everything? You’re okay if I—fuck you when you’re sleeping?”

Jaehyun nods. “Is that something you want to try?”

“I—I think so,” Mark stammers. “I don’t know, I’d never really thought about it before, but now…”

Jaehyun laughs softly. “I think I’d be happy to try just about anything,” he says, “with you.”

Something warm glows in Mark’s chest, and threatens to trap his words in his throat. “Me, too,” he says. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve never even considered, but—I dunno, now I want to try everything. With you.”

Jaehyun tugs him closer, splaying a warm, comforting hand against Mark’s back. “Whatever you want, baby,” he murmurs, words blurry with sleep. “We have plenty of time.”

No, we don’t, Mark wants to say. But sleep is taking him, too, and it weighs down his tongue and washes him into the dark.

25 notes · View notes

n030n3 · 1 year

Text

I’m so scatterbrained so I decided to make a list of all the things bugging me so I can see them clearly and not have them swimming in my mind all the time. Here it is (TW for literally anything pretty much):

Things in my life that are hard rn:

-I have 4 jobs (2 of which barely schedule me and if they do it’s last minute so my life needs to revolve around them smfh) and also donate plasma twice a week when I can

-tummy hurty a lot

-can’t afford a therapist or nutritionist for high cholesterol or even take the time to make an appointment for any of this

-not enough money to pay rent and bills, let alone food

-ED is different and severe and I know I can’t be properly recovered unless I’m hospitalized again, which I can’t do

-no time to invest in a dream career

-no one seems interested in my art on insta anymore, views have been tanking

-my car is slowly falling apart and has an expired inspection sticker bc I know I won’t be able to pass it without paying for repairs

-I feel like I’m gonna lose friends/don’t see them a lot bc of my schedule

-scared of having a dead-end job forever

-student loan payments start soon

-etsy doesn’t seem to be making me money anymore, only fees and paying taxes

-tired all the time, sleep all day when I’m off (and I hate it)

-dependent as fuck on weed

-guilt for not having the time/mental energy to hang out w the piggies as much as I used to, also their supplies shot up in price seemingly overnight

-and with all this, extended family keeps pressuring me to hang out w them but I can barely even get out of bed on my days off let alone have the mental energy for that

1 note · View note

mieohmy · 2 years

Text

i wanna be okay. | lee jeno

PAIRING: bodyguard!jeno x fem reader

GENRE: strangers-to-lovers, e2ls, SLOW BURN, celebrity! au, rich kid! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WORD COUNT: 18.1k

NOTES: profanity, alcohol consumption, lots of arguing lol, somewhat heavy violence, blood, hospitals, injuries and im not a doctor so pls don’t come for me, flirting that kinda makes me wanna p*ke, slightly suggestive scenes, kissing

SUMMARY: the one where your rich CEO dad hires you a mysterious bodyguard to stay by your side 24/7. on the contrary, as much as jeno tries to stay away from you- it’s just utterly impossible.

authors note: wow. it’s finally done. akbskdjdks after so many months of hard work, i’ve finally finished and any feedback would be greatly appreciated <33 anyways, so much work and effort has been put into this, so i really hope anyone reading/waiting for this enjoys! thank you all- jae (also yes this is set near christmas time bc i was writing then and just only finished now :))

edit: epilogue here!

TAGLIST: @mrkcore @moonbeamsung @neonvision @sunzwoo @neocuddlytechnology @itsveronicaxxx @keemburley @rynshyuckies @neochaeryeong @terjeno @lighthyucks @blank-velvet @kaexloey @aedreamzy @kodasity @dnckfwk

The split second the door is opened for you to exit, the flashes start attacking you with bright and harsh lights, fighting alongside with strong and sturdy hands helping you out of the car. You won’t lie, it put you off a little. You were used to the cameras all your life, but especially today it seemed like the loud, intruding voices and crowded bodies actually made a dent in your hardened shell.

Nonetheless, the party was a success. The articles and pictures of you online were newsworthy (as per usual) even when the process of getting them was quite in contrast to what was actually put out to the public.

‘CEO of Meija Tech’s Daughter, y/n y/l/n, Makes Striking Appearance for the Opening…’

You sigh, scrolling past the articles and comments- the majority were commenting on the harsh conditions of the paparazzi at your entrance.

Ha, can’t they leave her alone for once?

They follow her everywhere… can’t they just let her walk where she wants?

I feel bad… she can’t even walk out of a car before getting mobbed…

Tch. The biggest company in the country can’t even afford bodyguards for the daughter of the CEO?

Enough. You turn your phone off with a sense of finality. You knew this was going to happen. As the years passed and your exposure to the outside public grew, it was inevitable that your life would be invaded by parasites that feed off you and your every move. You’re the host. And they’ll take anything.

The incoming sound of heels clicking against the hard marbled floor catches your attention. You glance up. Your father’s secretary stands with her hands on her hips. “Yes?” you question innocently.

“Your father wishes-“

You get up from your spot in the workers' lounge (as if you belonged there), not caring to hear the rest of her words. “Yeah, I got it.”

Now, the sounds of your heels clicking fill the hallways, people murmuring as you walk past with that air of superiority and your head held high. In reality, it was just the habit formed by countless lessons your father forced you to take beginning at the mere age of six. Not to forget the fact that you didn’t care to hear the people working under your father talk shit about you and the people you cared about.

Exiting the elevator, you’re surprised to see that there’s no one in your father’s office- besides himself, of course. You clasp your hands together.

“Father.” He tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Is there a reason you called me to your office at this time?” Your father clears his throat, and you know he’s being serious. Then again, when was he not?

“I’m sure you’ve seen the news articles.” Ah. That’s what it is.

He continues, “and I’ve been thinking for some time now…”

Your hands clasp tighter.

“Perhaps we should hire you a bodyguard. A strong and reliable one to stay by your side at all times to keep you safe.”

It sinks in, and you bristle. “Father!”

He shakes his head. “This is imperative now. Especially as your popularity continues to grow and it exposes you more and more to the outside world.”

“But I don’t want one?” you frown. “I think I’m perfectly fine. I feel content with how it is now.”

He sighs. “Your safety, my daughter.”

You cross your arms. “Yes, that’s true, but I really don’t believe I need to-“ He holds a hand up, and you fall silent. This is a one-sided argument.

“That’s all. You can leave now.”

You end up trudging out of his office towards the elevator with no destination in mind. Your mind flashes back. Is it really that bad to have a bodyguard? Why are you so hesitant about getting one?

You don’t actually know. Maybe it’s because you were scared. That’s all. Scared to acknowledge that you were already at that level of fame. It was really scary to face that fact. You, y/n, were at risk enough that you needed a bodyguard to protect you from things you didn’t want to happen. Things you really would want to imagine to either.

But who actually knows, right?

Four. That’s when you lost your mother and instead got raised by family caretakers while your father was busy running just one of the largest franchises in the world. Obviously, you didn’t have a family. Or friends. Or anyone, for that matter.

You suppose you should thank your father for the boarding school he sent you to at age thirteen. Most people would probably object and detest going with all their being, but you saw it as a chance to explore. Explore life past the strict rules, regulated behaviors, constant empty house, and everything that surrounded you.

And people you did meet. Mainly other rich (snotty) kids and teachers, it was a prestigious boarding school after all, but some of them you actually clicked with. And stayed with to this day.

“Minjeong!” You call out happily, running to meet your friend. It’s been almost a month since you last saw her, work being the main priority and barrier between the both of you.

She gives you a small hug, a smirk on her face. “Hey, daughter of CEO y/l/n, whose face is all over the news still.” You roll your eyes.

“Don’t remind me. I hate it.”

“But I like having a famous friend.”

You roll your eyes before abruptly standing up straighter. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Father plans on hiring me a bodyguard to accompany me the entire day, like a pet dog. I think it’s a bit much.”

“If I recall, that’s what a bodyguard does.” She then nods her head. “It makes sense, y/n. You need one.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re on his side?” Her eyes widen and you slump over. “Ugh, Minjeong, I really don’t know what to do. I just don’t want one. Not one bit.”

A hand comes to rest over yours. “Hey, I’m always on your side. That’s why I think having a bodyguard would be good. They’ll keep you safe, y/n,” she insists. “Just think about it. If you really don’t want one, maybe your father will reconsider it. Truly.”

It’s not likely.

But two weeks go on, and it seems like your father has forgotten about it. You feel a bit more relaxed now that it seems to have passed, and you enter the 20-story building that your father runs.

It’s going too well, to be honest. Enjoying a nice, steaming cup of coffee with the bright and sunny weather outside, it was bound to go downhill from here.

A familiar voice calls your name.

You raise an eyebrow. “Chaeryeong? Why are you up here?”

Your other close friend who also attended the same boarding school as you and Minjeong when you were younger, walks in. She decided to get a job at your father’s company just to start her off somewhere since her father and yours were business partners.

She puts a hand on her hip. “Haven’t you heard?” You pause mid-sip. “Huh? Heard what?”

“Lee Jeno’s here.”

You blink. “Who?”

She gets even closer to you, placing both of her hands on your shoulders with an astounded expression. “The bodyguard? Good looking? The kind where everyone is talking about him good-looking?” She emphasizes with wide eyes. You open your mouth but you don’t even know the next words that are about to come out. “I-wha-“ Quickly, you collect yourself, tucking a strand of hair behind you. “Why is he here?”

Minjeong bursts into the room with a wild look in her eyes, the door banging against the wall with a loud bam. Your heads whip towards the door.

“That attractive guy is your new bodyguard?!”

❀

“Father,” you pout, hands placed together as you try your best to work your way out of whatever this is.

“No.”

It feels as if a cold breeze blows past you, and you shiver. Sneakily from underneath your eyelashes, your eyes shift to the person sitting stiffly in front of you.

It’s been five minutes, so you quickly give up. Sighing, you cross your legs, and then your arms as if it would assert your dominance. “Alright, shall we head off?”

The figure says nothing, only imitating your actions as you get up and walk out of your father’s office.

“No funny business, daughter of mine,” yup father calls out with a stern expression.

You roll your eyes.

The sound of the elevator beeping as you go down the many floors of the building fills the air. Soon enough, you can’t stand the silence.

“Y/n y/l/n, but I’m sure you know that already. And you?”

This may be the first time he’s properly looked at you. He clasps his hand behind his back like a typical bodyguard and you observe him carefully.

“Lee Jeno,” he responds curtly.

Carefully, you make a note in your head. “How old are you?” You wait for about a minute before his response comes. “I don’t believe I am inclined to answer that.”

You tilt your head to the side, not paying any heed to what he just said. “2000, right? Nice to meet you,” you comment briefly. Jeno stares out the window with that stoic face of his.

The rest of the ride down is in silence.

Serious about his job, much?

The silence appears to be there for you to contemplate how the rest of your life is going to play out with this man at your side. Or…. perhaps he would get fed up with you. That would be funny, and sadly at this moment, a dream come true.

Jerk. Annoying, straight-faced asshole.

You continue writing furiously at your desk, the pen sounds scratching and stamping against the lined paper while the memory from earlier in the day replays in your head for the nth time.

You scoff, “Mr. Lee Jeno, it’s just a hangout, that’s all. Just my two friends and I. Why can’t you let me go? I don’t think you-“

He stands there with no expression. “Your father said you couldn’t go out past 11 pm, Miss, so I’m not letting you go out. Please get into the car.” You feel your face flush with anger.

“Who said you could command me like that? Huh?”

The air feels cold and hot at the same time. The only thing that cuts through your heated expressions is the lowering of the window by the driver.

“Miss y/l/n? Is everything alright?”

You unfreeze, immediately smiling towards the man. “Of course, mister.”

Jeno next to you quickly bows, voice void of emotion. “Yes, sir. I apologize. I believe Miss y/l/n left something inside the building but it’s too late to get it. We’ll get into the car now, I apologize once again for the inconvenience.”

You stand there for a second, too astounded to do anything except stare at the person dressed in all black in front of you.

The audacity of this man.

You barely make it into the car (or home for that matter), accompanied by a glare from jeno.

You groan loudly, head falling onto the table with a thud.

A face peeks into the room. Your grandma (who wasn’t your grandmother by blood but you still liked to call her as such) stares at you, concerned. “Are you okay, y/n? Frustrated with work?”

You look up with an uneasy smile. “Oh, yeah, something like that…”

After she leaves satisfied with your answer, you properly smile. After all these years, she’s stuck by your side and taken care of you in replacement of your real family. Even now, she stays with you at your own place as the housekeeper.

You hope she never has to deal with dicks like Lee Jeno. You pinch your nose bridge, irked again.

It’s only been a week, and you’re at your wit's end. Why? Just why does the person you have to see every day for 24 hours on repeat have to be him? An aggravating, cocky, expressionless, handsome douch-

You stop yourself. And smack your face three, no, four times for good measure. You stand up violently with your palms planted flat on the table.

Let’s sleep.

You nod to yourself. Great idea.

❀

You stare holes into the man following after you into the building with his hands behind his back. You sincerely hope he gets the memo that you’re cursing him with your eyes.

You remember the first day of having Lee Jeno employed as your bodyguard. You remember the words you exchanged then.

You're fed up. You stop in your tracks, spinning around with your arms crossed and eyes glinting. “Do you have to follow me everywhere?”

Jeno stands there a few feet away, as he has been the whole day. “Do you know what a bodyguard does?” he retorts, unfazed.

You groan. “You know what? Go home. You can come back whenever my father’s around, so he at least thinks you’re doing your job. How’s that?” You point a finger at him aggressively. “I’ll pay you more. How much? What about-”

Jeno cocks his head. “Are you that much of an idiot?”

You scowl as you cross the lobby. Your bodyguard follows you into the elevator without a word and exits onto your floor without a word.

He’s even got his own personal desk now in your office, and you want to smack all the papers piled on his desk flying off.

Why the fuck does a bodyguard have his own papers to file?

You go to your desks respectively, not a single word exchanged. It lasts for about fourish hours until you give up. You stand up from your chair, exhaling as you glance at jeno. “I want to get something from the cafe. Let’s go.”

He gets up quietly, hands in his pocket as he follows you.

❀

You tap your hand on your chin thoughtfully. This order was especially important, as your day was already horrible enough and this one choice could quite literally change it.

Jeno sighs from behind you, reaching for his walkie-talkie. “No sir, we’re at the cafe. Miss y/n is taking a while with her order, I apologize on her behalf." It’s as if he was purposefully speaking louder for you to hear. You ignore him, gritting your teeth.

You practically start skipping in your designer heels, the taste of the drink makes you feel so giddy inside. Then it hits you. You left your layout plans back at home, so you switch your directions to head back there.

“Hey,” Jeno interrupts. “Where are you going? This isn’t the way back to the office.”

You ignore jeno once again.

Then a rough hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back with so much force. So much that you lose control and your drink is flung at jeno, soaking his neatly ironed suit.

Time pauses for a moment. You gasp, the air rushed out of you. Jeno freezes, the cold drink chilling his bones.

And then, it starts again. You snatch your hand out of his grip. “Are you crazy?” You yell, pissed. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Jeno grits his teeth, closing his eyes in an attempt to control himself. You raise a finger, directing it straight at his face, just in-between his onyx eyes. “Who said you could touch-“

You’re prevented from saying anything else as you feel your body being ripped from its spot and slammed against a nearby brick wall, the pain almost making your eyes well up with tears.

A hand slams harshly next to you, and your eyes flick towards the culprit. You swear you can see his eyes flash red, and his chest heaves heavily with anger.

“Why are you always acting like a bitch?”

He steps even closer and instead of backing down, you meet his intense gaze. After a few seconds, you scoff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms once again.

“Have you always been this spoiled?” He breathes out shakily, nostrils flaring. “Perhaps you should open your eyes to the people around you instead of being a selfish and egotistical brat.”

You notice a prominent vein sticking out in his neck from the close proximity and swallow. You look away and then push him hardly off of you, disgust in your eyes. “I don’t think you have the right to say anything like that as my bodyguard. I also don’t think you have the right to prevent me from going to my own home. Don’t you dare follow me anymore.”

Fuming, you stomp off.

❀

If there was ever a time you wanted to kill someone, now would be the perfect chance.

“Mr. Lee will be moving into your place.”

You clench your jaw. “Father, you can’t possibly make that person live in my home!”

“Who, again, is the one paying for your current residence?”

You falter before gathering your resolve. “Sure, you did. I’m grateful for that. But you only got it through connections.” You sigh, turning your head away. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’ll ever let him take one step in my place.”

Your father’s eyes narrow. “You need surveillance hourly after that cafe stunt, and the only way to do that is by having Mr. Lee stay with you. At all times.”

❀

You don’t like this. Not at all.

Shoulders rigid and tense, you stand in front of the door to your penthouse located on the top floor. Still being a young adult, your father pulled some strings to let you live in an apartment building near the office with your care-taking staff.

Well, from now on, your bodyguard, Lee Jeno as well.

Hesitantly, you type in the passcode and watch the door swing open. Not bothering to look behind you, you call out, “The passcode is 0418. Remember that from now on because I won’t tell you again.”

You see your grandmother and immediately smile. She stops in her tracks, shocked at the appearance of a man in your home.

Jeno quickly bows. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs… ?”

She laughs, already taken in by his appearance and apparent manners. You watch uninterestedly from the side, picking at your nails.

“No need for formalities, just call me auntie,” she smiles kindly.

You clear your throat, calling out sweetly, “Grandmother~”

She raises an eyebrow. You carefully tiptoe over to her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, “That man is my bodyguard. You know, the one I told you about…”

She pulls away, surprised, before looking back at jeno. “Really? You’re that handsome man?”

You choke on your spit. He smiles bashfully, and your mouth almost drops. The first time you’ve ever seen lee jeno smile, and it was… You look away.

pretty.

He bows again. “Thank you, auntie.”

Flustered, you call for a maid. “Take him to his room and tell him all the rules for staying here,” you order. Then you turn around and head towards your bedroom, desperately wishing for this to be a dream. For lee jeno who is currently staying in your home to all just be a dream.

It’s no use.

You get up, sighing. Hours later, you still can’t sleep. You can’t sleep knowing that lee jeno is a few bedrooms away, doing who knows what.

Probably sleeping, you remind yourself with a sarcastic laugh.

But for some reason, you can’t help but wonder about him. You groan, trying to get settled back into bed. And then you see his face again.

Lee jeno, smiling with those stupidly pretty eyes.

You want to rip your hair out.

Quietly tip-toeing, you walk out into the dark living room and across the hall to his guest room. Heart pounding, you stop at the door. Your hand slowly rests on the handle, and you contemplate for a second. Knocking and waiting give you no answer.

So you open it. Only to find the room empty, as if he was never there in the first place.

If this feeling was disappointment, perhaps? you don’t know what you would do, so you head back to your room, feeling as if you could finally shut your eyes.

❀

You get it, after a few days of coming home late at night with him always a few steps behind.

Jeno leaves. That bit was obvious, but it all made sense now. He always left late at night, and always came back early in the morning for you. At first, you thought it was a waste of time (and precious sleep) before you recalled what he said to you that one day.

“Perhaps you should open your eyes to the people around you instead of only being a selfish and egotistical brat.”

You laugh, upset when you really shouldn’t be. That’s right, jeno probably has his own family that he has to return to, that he never sees because of his demanding job. His job where he has to see your complaining, spoiled face every day. He probably has a girlfriend, or wife even-

You slap yourself. Stop wasting your time thinking about jeno. You know what? It’s time to say goodnight.

You needed to rest, after all, tomorrow was a big day. Another one added to the countless big days you’ve already had in your youth and age.

❀

“I conclude my proposition for the upcoming 2022 schedule. I thank you all for your attention and attendance.” You bow, and rounds of claps fill the room.

Unbeknownst to you, jeno stands out to the side of the meeting room, leaning against the wall as he waits for you. He stood planted like that for hours since the beginning of the meeting.

He looks down at the ground, still hearing the lasting effects of the applause from your presentation. Jeno won’t lie- he’s impressed. Okay so maybe at first he thought you were just another snotty rich kid with nothing better to do than spend all your money, but it turns out you can be more than that. He almost scoffs at the thought.

The way you exuded confidence- it was oozing out of you and into everyone in the room, and your voice speaking melodies (and many things he didn’t understand), but it was enough to make him shiver.

After finishing the ending remarks, you finally notice jeno’s presence. How long has he been there?

You walk over with a neutral expression on your face. You’re waiting, you’re not sure what for, but you’re waiting for him.

And all he does is stare.

You don’t get flustered. Not easily. And lee jeno staring at you for a long time made you flustered.

You bite your lip, frustrated. “What?” You finally bark. No response.

“What are you looking at?” You demand, looking disgusted. You walk off without another word. If you were being honest, you may have seemed rude but you were actually fretting internally, heart racing.

Was it your hair?

Self-consciously, you pat the top of your head, looking for a nearby mirror.

No way- this morning you purposely set your alarm early to do your hair for the meeting and so a certain someone would notice- you cough suddenly, thoughts interrupted by the approaching executive director. Immediately, you stop and put your act on, smiling and bowing. “How are you, sir?”

If you had just stayed back one more second, then you might’ve heard jeno murmur,

“you.”

❀

You bite your lip, searching through desk after desk.

Where could it be?

You swear you saw your father put it in the bottom left drawer, but it wasn’t there.

Running a hand through your hair, you quickly double-check that no one else is in the room, and continue the search. Your eyes gleam.

Found it.

The car keys dangle in your hand, practically shining in the light. It’s been months since you’ve last seen your precious baby, months since your father forbid you from driving. Probably to keep you from escaping late at night and doing things you shouldn’t be doing as the famous daughter of a CEO.

“What are you doing?”

Shit. You scramble to your feet, fixing your outfit.

Jeno stands in front of you, looking unimpressed. “What are those?”

You grow defensive, trying not to look as guilty or suspicious as possible while silently cursing him in your head. “Is asking questions the only thing you do?”

He shifts. “Maybe, if those car keys are yours.” He opens his mouth again. “I-“

In two seconds you’re in front of him, hands behind your back. Maybe just this once, it’ll work…

You look up at him from under your eyelashes, trying to muster the most pitiful (and childish) expression you can. “Please, oh please, my wonderful dear bodyguard, will you let me off just this once?” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I promise I’ll never treat you horribly or yell at you ever again. If you want, I won’t even talk to you anymore. I swear, these are the keys to my happiness-“

You peek an eye open, waiting hesitantly for his reaction.

You pout using your special pitiful eyes, leaning in closer. “Please, Mr. Lee, I really need this…”

Jeno stands there, still as a rock and completely unfazed by your little stunt. He blinks, clasping his arms behind his back and clearing his throat. “Are you done?”

You stop the act, deflated. You tilt your head to the side, anger building inside you once again.

He seems oblivious, looking outside the window at the scenery. “I believe your friend requested to have lunch with you at this time, miss.” You stand up straighter, temporarily distracted. “Huh? Who?”

❀

The CEO eventually calls Jeno into his office later that night.

Jeno bows, awaiting his next words. “You called me in, sir?” Your father sighs, hands clasped together at his desk. “I happened to see y/n exit my office earlier today, although I’m certain she did not have any engagements or reasons to be in here. Is there something you need to tell me?”

Jeno inhales, thinking back to this morning with your hands cutely clasped in front of you and eyes shut. That side of you he never would have expected- that made his hands clammy. When was the last time he had clammy hands?

He swallows, bowing once again.

“No, sir.”

The CEO cocks his head. “Really?”

“I believe she was just grabbing her jacket that she left there earlier this morning.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes sir.”

He gestures with a hand, “If that’s all, you’re dismissed.”

Jeno turns to leave, a storm brewing inside of him.

❀

It’s been a week and your father hasn’t said anything. You giggle to yourself before looking up.

“Mr. Jeno!”

He sighs, walking to your desk. “Yes?”

You look around animatedly, humming. “I wonder… could you get me two coffees?”

Jeno’s eye twitches. You never break eye contact, staring deeply into his eyes with a sparkle. “Pretty please? I’ll pay you back. Extra if you want.”

You smile brightly up at him, and he turns away. Once jeno leaves, you get back to your work, humming happily.

Chareryeong’s mouth drops open from across the table after seeing your interaction. She quickly glances around before turning to you and whispering, “I thought you hated that man? All you did was talk shit about him to me.”

You tap your pencil against your papers quickly scribbling something down.

“Well… it’s turned out to be better than I originally thought.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Not sure, he’s just an interesting man. He only talks when talked to, and doesn’t show an ounce of emotion.”

“Except when he’s pissed at me,” you add quickly, frowning.

You dramatically whip your head towards the nearby window, sunlight shining through to light up the best features of your face while you study the beams of light.

“I want to be the one to get him to open up. I want to unlock those secrets of his,” you murmur wistfully.

She shakes her head. “Are you crazy? Or a pervert? No, both?”

You send a deadly glare towards Chaeryeong. “I’m not, I’m just hungry.” You frown, “How long do you think he’ll take to get back?”

❀

Two cups of coffee are slammed onto the desk, and you almost flinch before proceeding to let out a blindingly breathtaking smile once you realize who it is in front of you. “Thanks, my dear bodyguard.”

He stands there, unamused.

Sighing, you pick up a cup and offer it to him. “I got it for you.”

Oh, really? He thinks mockingly to himself. “I don’t drink coffee,” he states simply before turning away.

You stare down the back of jeno, from his perfectly styled hair to his broad shoulders and down to neatly tied shoes. Tch.

There’s no need for you to worry, after all, you’ll have plenty more chances.

❀

This game of cat and mouse continues on, to jeno’s pure dislike. He would never admit it, but intrigue fills him just as much. You intimidate him. Your dramatic 360 change in behavior around jeno confused not only him but the people around you. Either way, jeno refuses to fall into your trap. No matter how sweetly you talk to him with that infuriating (read: cute) look on your face.

-except for times such as these, when you act so stubborn and do such idiotic things jeno can’t stand to comprehend you.

So there was a reason you didn’t go far away from your house or father’s building into the public that often when alone.

Your eyebrow twitches. You quietly clear your throat, lowering your head even closer to the ground as if it’ll hide your identity anymore. You prayed that the baseball cap you wore purposefully to cover your face would work, but obviously, it didn’t- judging by the whispers around you.

“Excuse me, are you by chance, y/n y/l/n?”

You smile sheepishly, lowering your head even more while cursing internally. “Oh, uh, you see-“

“Guys, that’s CEO y/l/n’s daughter.”

“No way, you’re right.”

“Do you think I can get a picture? I’ve never been this close to a celebrity before..”

“Damn, she’s a lot prettier in person…”

Before you know it, a crowd surrounds you in the store while alarms go off in your head. You hear their insistent demand for pictures or autographs and see the confusion by the workers in the store. Cringing, you look around for the exit, avoiding hands reaching towards your body as you scramble to escape.

Jeno… you think, panicking. Jeno. Where is he?

That’s right. He said he was going for a walk while you were shopping in the store. Fuck, you curse.

And then, it’s like heaven appears right before your eyes. Amid the mob, you see a hand reach for you, and then a firm grip on your wrist pulls you out.

It’s jeno, gritting his teeth as he takes you away and makes a break for it. You feel like you’re in an action movie, running away in slow motion as jeno drags you along.

He turns left, then left again, and then right. You’re such a mess, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you and jeno turn a corner, almost running into another couple.

Jeno halts immediately, aggressively but still somehow politely commanding something from them. You’re confused, brain feeling like it’s running a thousand miles per hour. He knocks off your hat quickly while still on the lookout- you’re not even sure how he’s doing all these things at once.

You feel something shoved on top of your head and it finally clicks when you spot jeno wrapping the (hideous) jacket the lady was wearing just a few seconds ago around you.

He puts a cap on, presumably the man’s, and quickly thanks the confused couple before pulling you to a secluded corner by the edge of a building.

“What are you-“

You hear voices and you’re sure there was a quick hint of your name, causing you to gasp in fear.

Jeno bites his lip, looking around in desperation before he continues past the corner, revealing a sketchy, dark alleyway.

He starts toward it but you resist, pulling back without budging.

His head whips back toward you. “What are you-?”

You glare indignantly back at him. “I’m not going down that alley. You have no clue what’s in there.”

He rolls his eyes. “We don’t have time.” You pull your hand out of his grip, crossing your arms as you look to the side. “I will not.”

“You’re being a brat,” he snaps, and you nod stubbornly in acknowledgment. “Sure- I am. But you’re not making me go in that awful place.” Right as you finish, you hear multiple voices getting closer, and it takes a lot in you to not whimper.

“Idiot,” he hisses, before peeking past the corner as the voices get louder and louder. You don’t have time to process before you feel jeno push you against the wall with that seemingly inhumane bodyguard strength of his, just like that time before, except this time he leans into you, caging you underneath his arms.

“What are you- why-“ you splutter, but his face comes so close to yours that you simply shut your eyes tightly in response. You wait, feeling his soft breathing right above your mouth and lips hovering- almost touching yours.

But he never does. Even when the crowd walks by, unknowingly passing you two with your disguises, you grip tightly onto his jacket.

Jeno doesn’t let go until you’re safe. He releases you from under him, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

You hate the fact that jeno smelled really disgustingly good. Especially good- you can almost imagine, a pine forest with a woody and fresh scent that was stuck forever in your head. Perhaps the scent just reminded you of things you wished for that jeno carried with him.

You walk behind jeno, following like a lost puppy back to the car pickup area. You feel like you just ran a 5k, the adrenaline still not having faded yet.

You can just tell by jeno’s tense shoulders that he is probably, absolutely furious. When you reach the designated spot, waiting for the car to come pick you guys up, he turns to you with fists clenched.

“Why,” he shudders, “why did you think it was a good idea to go out in public without me? Did you really think no one would recognize you? Are you that fucking stupid?”

You look away, fidgeting. “I thought the hat would be enough to cover my face but…”

He scoffs, putting his hands on his hips. “A baseball cap isn’t enough to hide your identity- you know people can still see you with a hat on, right?”

He looks away, sarcastically chuckling. “Or maybe not, since you don’t even go outside.”

The car finally pulls up as you feel the anger boil through your body.

“Sure. Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself, you entitled prick!” You yell indignantly, two seconds away from flipping him off and calling for an uber.

“You can’t for shit,” jeno growls back. He takes your arm, opening the door, and forcefully putting you in the car. He thanks the valet driver, exchanging places and getting into the driver's seat.

You wait until he gets adjusted on the road again before speaking up, looking straight at his side profile. “I’m fine. Nobody got hurt, so it’s alright. I understand what to do from now on, so you don’t have to be mad anymore.“

The car rolls to a stop at the red light.

“You could’ve died. How can you not get that into your dense brain?” He snaps. “Your life is of uttermost importance- why do you even think people like me exist? To protect people's lives, your life, because you can’t afford to get hurt. You don’t understand the repercussions of your actions.”

The rest of the ride is in silence. You don’t dare to look at him anymore. When he reaches your apartment building, you get out and walk in without a single look back.

He sighs, reaching to move the car out of park when he spots an unfamiliar item.

Your jacket. Jeno sighs, deciding that he doesn’t want any of your belongings left in this car. He hesitates, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before finally unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out.

When he reaches your door, he’s about to knock before he remembers you told him the passcode before.

“Remember that from now on because I won’t tell you again.”

The door unlocks with a quiet beep, swinging open gently. Jeno goes in silently as it’s in his nature, contemplating if he should just leave your jacket on the couch when he sees your room door open.

Peeking past, the only thing in sight is you, huddled by the foot of your bed and looking so small, perhaps the smallest he’s ever seen you. Jeno stops, confused. It’s silent.

He places your jacket down and takes a few steps towards your figure. As he gets closer, he can hear only one thing.

The sound of your quiet sniffles. That’s when he sees your body shaking.

Instinct kicks in and jeno bursts through the door and runs to your side, grabbing your shoulders and whipping you around so he can assess the damage.

You freeze awkwardly, bewildered. “W-what are you doing?”

He stills, equally as confused as you are. And then you gasp, horrified. “Did you follow me in? Did you watch me the entire time?”

Jeno feels shock and embarrassment course through his veins. You weren’t hurt.

You were crying.

How could he not notice before he saw your fluttering, watery eyes, and red nose?

Jeno looks down, voice soft. “Why… what’s wrong?”

Abruptly, you wipe your eyes and clear your throat. Sheepishly, you laugh. “It’s nothing, I just thought-“

You cut your sentence off midway, bringing a hand to run through your hair while you collect yourself.

This time, your voice comes out small and slow, as if you were a child that just got scolded. “I’m scared, jeno. You were right.”

You look away, head down so your hair falls in front of your face. “It was really scary.” Your voice is timid and hesitant. “What am I supposed to do now when I can’t even go outside without fearing for my life? When did things get like this?”

Your eyes slowly raise to look at him as you try to hold back from quivering. “I just… i wanna be okay.”

A few beats of silence pass. Eventually, Jeno’s hand reaches out, and it falls on the back of your neck, pushing you forward until your forehead rests against his.

Your breath hitches.

“I’m sorry.”

The sound of his voice, so soft and tender, sends shivers throughout your body.

“I promise I’ll protect you. You don’t have to be scared any longer, because I’m here, okay? I’m here to keep you safe, remember it’s my duty to make sure nothing happens to you. I’ll be the one to make you okay.” He stares at you, gazing deeply into your eyes. You can’t seem to break away from his dark eyes, full of compassion and sincerity.

He exhales, slowly releasing you. “Come on,” he stands up and straightens himself, “it’s been a long day and you should go to sleep.”

You nod, head empty except for exhaustion.

You stare up at the ceiling after getting tucked into bed. You can see jeno standing awkwardly by the door at the edge of your view, waiting. Shifting under the covers, you call out hesitantly, “Will you stay? Just-” you swallow, “just stay near me until I fall asleep? So I can feel safe?” Your voice ends in a whisper.

Jeno does. He watches you for a while, not knowing if he should stay or go. Just so he doesn’t feel like those creepy stalkers in movies, he goes to sit by the chair near your bed, staring at your peaceful face and your breaths soon evening out.

Jeno leaves after cleaning up the place a little bit, putting your shoes by the door and jacket up even though he knew you had workers hired to do those jobs.

Jeno leaves after delicately brushing the stray hairs off your face.

❀

It’s a beautiful morning. You wake up feeling strangely refreshed, getting out of bed and padding over to your master bathroom to get ready for the day.

You see swollen eyes staring back at you in the mirror, weird. Leaving over the sink, you turn on the faucet, about to run your hands under the water-

when it hits you.

Everything that happened yesterday. Everything comes rushing back.

You freeze, a hand covering your mouth as you let out a muffled shriek. The crowd chasing you, jeno almost kissing you, him catching you crying, the “will you stay?”

You silently hyperventilate, pacing back and forth across the marbled flooring. There’s no way you can go to work today. Absolutely no way.

❀

You sit rigidly at your desk in the office, too distracted to focus so your hands type random words onto the computer, keyboard clacking erratically.

So far, Jeno hasn’t said or done anything differently. He’s greeted you the same, spoke the same- nothing seems to be off. Except you, obviously.

Your father’s secretary walks in, accompanied by the sharp clicking of her heels. “Y/n, dear, your father was wondering when you would submit the instruction plans.”

You sit up straight. “Instruction plans?” you ask, blinking. She raises an eyebrow. “The one due today?”

Well, shit.

❀

You already knew the moment you screwed up you would be sent to the one and only- your father’s office.

It’s deadly quiet, and you stand with your head lowered to the ground and hands clasped behind your back.

“Y/n.”

You bite your lip. “Father.”

“How can I have such high expectations of you when you forget imperative things like these plans? You knew they were due today. We were counting on you, and we didn’t dare expect them to come in five hours late.”

You breathe in, and then out. “Forgive me, father. It was a one-time mistake that I know I will never do again. I promise to keep track of all my schedules from now on.”

“Should I get you your own personal secretary-“

“No!” You blurt out instinctively, although you catch yourself a second later, swiftly composing yourself. “No thank you. I had some issues yesterday but I assure you it will never happen again.”

He dismisses you with a hand.

Things seemed to settle down again after that. Surprisingly, you and jeno hadn’t gotten in many major arguments after that. It was more of bickering. Friendly bickering that actually left you laughing more times than fuming. It was a nice change to see jeno smiling more often. And unbeknownst to you, he felt the same.

Before jeno clocks in one fine morning, chaeryeong rolls her chair over to your desk. You look at her, waiting for her next words.

“So… you and jeno?” An incomprehensible sound escapes your mouth without warning, causing her to raise her eyebrows higher. Quickly, you clear your throat. “What are you talking about?”

She holds back a laugh. “Every time I see you two around the building, you’re always talking. And smiling.”

You look back towards your computer screen awkwardly- suspiciously. “So? Are we not allowed to do that?” She sends you another knowing look, one that you ignore, instead focusing back on your work.

Jeno comes in strangely late, specifically 40 minutes late. And he’s never late. You watch him plop down at his desk with a disgruntled grunt, sluggishly getting his things prepped for the day. A frown settles on your face unconsciously.

The whole day, he acts strange. He looks exhausted- not the kind that you’re familiar with- not the one you usually have when there’s a big presentation the next day and you can’t sleep, but more just like when you’re tired of life. Done with living. Exhausted from life.

His responses to your questions are short. Even when you ask if there’s something wrong, he just brushes it off or looks away. It throws off your whole day. It's difficult when he spends all his time with you, constantly at your side, and it bothers you much more than you would have liked.

Even the drive home is completely silent. You study him from the side, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw tense like they have been all day.

You wait until he reaches your apartment building before speaking up hesitantly. “Are you really alright, jeno?”

He murmurs an unconvincing, “yeah.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been-“

“I said I’m fine!” he snaps, turning to you with a spark in his eyes before it dissipates. He looks away, fidgeting with his fingers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s nothing you did. Just don’t worry about me,” he says, voice considerably lower.

A tiny nod escapes from you. You both make your way up quietly to your home, the silence feeling strange as you and jeno usually chatted during the way up, but obviously, that didn’t happen today.

Once you enter and greet all the workers, you excuse yourself to wash up in your master bathroom, leaving jeno to linger in the living area. You assume he’s going to leave sooner than later as he always does, never once having stayed the night at your place since your father directed him to do so.

You take your sweet time, allowing yourself to wash away all the stressful things of the day as you get ready for bed. But before you do, you go outside to get a glass of water and chat with your grandmother.

What you did not expect was to see jeno’s sleeping figure on your plush couch, body rising and falling peacefully with his breaths. He must’ve been exhausted, having fallen asleep like that. You stop in your tracks, processing the sight. What in the world?

Swallowing, you decide to carefully walk closer, examining his face and how even in his slumber he still looks stressed.

A sound diverts your attention, a couple of the maids standing there patiently. You silently signal for them to leave you two in peace.

You study him with an unreadable expression. “Did you have a rough day?” You whisper softly, a concerned look on your face. “You seemed so off the whole day, I have no clue what happened to you.” You look around before exhaling and reaching out a hand to fix a piece of his styled hair that fell out of its place.

“I’m- uh, I’m sorry?”

You’re unsure of what to do or say next, so you grab a blanket from the guest room and attempt to cover him as best as you can, especially for the fact that you had never done anything like this to someone else before.

Before you head to bed, you inform the workers to let him sleep on the couch for the night. You have no idea why this instinct comes over you- why it makes you do these things for him.

❀

Jeno wakes up with the sun in his face, an unfamiliar background coming into focus. He rests there for a moment, allowing his body to fully wake up.

He shifts- his clothes, he’s still in his suit- and where even is he?

Sitting up, it eventually comes back to him in pieces. That’s right, he fell asleep at your place on your couch. But the blanket? He has no recollection of anything else.

Jeno spots a glass of water on the table, and he glances around before figuring it must be for him. He takes a gulp, and then another one, and then another before he realizes he’s finished it all.

He hears a familiar voice. “Mr. Jeno?”

It’s your grandmother. She smiles kindly at him. “The missus informed me to tell you that you have the day off. Just rest, alright?”

His eye twitches. “Pardon?”

She laughs. “You don’t have to work today, dear. Don’t go to the office. Y/n especially enforced that.”

He stares at the white blanket still covering him, thinking back to last night. Before your grandmother leaves him be, she has her last remark. “She was really concerned for you after last night. Please take better care of yourself, jeno.”

“Y/n? Really?” All jeno can do is wonder why.

You sit there, as still as a statue while the makeup artists and hairstylists work their magic. It’s been a while since you’ve gone out to a public event due to your father’s advice that the was best to let things cool off after those crazy fan situations. It’s been a while since you’ve attended one of these events as a brand ambassador.

You stand head to toe dressed in their clothes, practically a walking advertisement. The last time you remember doing any activity related to their brand was when you shot for a photo shoot to be printed on magazines sent out all over the country.

After the last finishing touches are put on your face, you thank everyone and head for the car to take you to the event’s location.

Jeno greets you in the car, and you nod with a grim smile. There wasn’t a feeling of nervousness in you, more of a numb sense filling your body. You watch the night lights zoom by through the car window, and occasionally sounds beeping from jeno’s walkie-talkie would fill the air.

You know when you’re getting close because the sounds of fans and chatter and just about everything get louder and louder. When the car rolls to a stop, you brace yourself. Jeno gets out first, and that’s when you suddenly freeze. Someone opens the door, and suddenly all the sounds are amplified. The screams from fans, cameras clicking, employees of the event are all there. But again, just as it once happened before, a hand extends out to you.

It’s Jeno’s.

You gulp, internally commanding yourself to put on your public face while taking his hand out of the car.

The flashing lights and desperate paparazzi reaching out to you are familiar. Instead, you just try your best to smile and keep a cool head. But it’s difficult when there are so many people surrounding you, trapping you.

You look up at jeno.

And once again, it feels like time freezes. Suddenly he’s the one that seems so cool in the midst of flashing lights, the stoic expression on his face as he holds a hand out to make way as your bodyguard takes your breath away.

You’re so caught up in staring at him, gulping, that you don’t know if you’re even moving forward. Or paying attention.

Well, evidently not since you don’t notice a mic shoved at you until it’s right in your face. You flinch, and jeno immediately shields you, pushing it away. He guides you to another route that’s not blocked by as many people. Jeno waits until there’s a moment for you to breathe before asking with the same concern he once showed you before. “Are you okay?”

Throat dry, you can’t bring yourself to respond so you nod quickly. Then you’re swept into the rest of the event and all of its happenings. Luckily, you’re professional enough to compose yourself for the rest of your appearance at the show.

You pose for pictures just like those professional models, answer questions flawlessly, and interact with the other famous people there all while keeping a smile on your face at all times. There’s a chance it all came off looking fake, but you’re hoping that it was enough to convince the public and the people.

The people. The fans. Your fans. Your fans that you love and appreciate the most. (Excluding the crazy ones that completely disregard your rights as a human being.)

It’s only when they ask for pictures or signatures from you that you truly smile. And jeno can clearly see that. Even when he’s farther off, not the one in the spotlight, he can see your felicitous smile as you pose with your adoring supporters. The times when you’re not right in front of the camera, you’ll nudge him, muttering about how cute your fans are or how talented they are with the creative banners they make for you.

Jeno has never seen this side of you before. He’s only seen the fear in your eyes when those intrusive fans suddenly surrounded you. He’s only seen the crying, upset you who’s scared to be who you are.

But when you smile at them, he unknowingly smiles at you.

❀

The event lasts for five hours, including preparation beforehand and closing statements. Not necessarily a long time, but jeno isn’t used to constantly watching over one person's every move or constantly being in fear something will happen to you after those previous times. Every time you leave his sight, he can’t truly breathe until he sees you again.

Finally, when you wave goodbye to all your admirers and get into the car, can jeno’s heart relax. You breathe a sigh of relief, buckling your seatbelt as jeno shifts the car into drive.

“You looked nice today,” he comments out of the blue.

You glance at him, observing as he drives out of the venue. But perhaps, you might’ve looked too much for too long. You didn’t pay attention to how long you really were staring at him.

“Why are you looking at me so much today?”

You inhale sharply, turning away. “H-huh? What are you talking about?” You pretend to act oblivious, murmuring something random about the weather finally getting cooler. Jeno chuckles quietly, driving the rest of the way home.

When he pulls up and opens the door for you, you finally realize the extent to which your feet hurt, having stood around in heels for far too long. You can’t wait to get up to the comfort of your penthouse and take them off- quite actually the best feeling ever.

You take a few steps before unexpectedly turning around to face jeno. He stops, somewhat surprised.

“Why don’t you actually sleep at my place? Why do you leave in the middle of the night and come back early in the morning?”

His eyes widen. A few beats pass with no answer.

At last, you look down, shrugging. “I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer,” you reply, reassuring him with a smile.

“Go home and get some rest. Thanks for sticking with me today.” You quickly bow and run inside the apartment, heart pounding erratically. Jeno can only stand there, shocked while watching your silhouette get smaller and smaller until it disappears into the building.

What could this be?

It keeps happening. Whenever he holds a hand for you to take while stepping out from the car or opens doors for you- or does anything more than his job doesn’t necessarily entail. Jeno’s been doing it since the beginning, whether you asked him to or not. So why is it suddenly affecting you like this? Why does it even make a difference? It’s just manners, but to you, it’s more.

When you open the door to the car in the morning and he turns to look at you from the driver’s seat, it’s like a scene from those movies. It always plays out in slow motion, jeno in his clean suit and freshly styled hair turning around to greet you. The first time you experienced this, you almost shut the door and quite literally walked back into the building. It made you feel weird- an unavoidable feeling building inside each time it happened, and you couldn’t describe it.

Things like that would make you wonder. Is it just formality? You’ve seen how jeno acts around others, he’s truly a polite and well-mannered person. Is he just being nice to you since he was hired by your father? Those thoughts would invade your mind from time to time. Then again, you didn’t always have that kind of precious time to dwell on that, you were the famous daughter of the biggest CEO in the country. But that didn’t mean you still couldn’t try.

Tuesday. 8 am.

“Jeno!” You greet enthusiastically as he walks into your office as if you hadn’t seen him just sometime earlier when he came to pick you up to head to work.

“Good morning,” he responds calmly. You watch him get settled in at his desk.

11 am.

You blow a stray hair out of your face, tapping your pen against the table repeatedly as you think of a solution. Your brain feels like it’s hanging on a thin wire, about to snap. This is why you didn’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps, you remind yourself.

You frown silently, eyes wandering around the room. Naturally, they fall on jeno whose attention was focused on his phone, and you assume he’s playing his weird shooting game considering his furrowed eyebrows and hunched shoulders. You’ve watched him play it a couple of times before, whenever he was bored while waiting for you after some long meeting or discussion.

A lightbulb goes off in your head, causing a mischievous smile to appear on your face. Target acquired. You position yourself in your wheely chair and push. If your father saw, you would be scolded for “improper office etiquette.”

The wheels make a satisfying sound as they cruise against the ground, going straight in the direction you wanted. You roll up right next to jeno’s desk, one arm on the armrest as you place your chin in the palm of your hand, lingering. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence so you wait by peering down at his screen, eventually getting into his game.

He gets shot, his fingers flying wildly over the screen, and you let out a horrified gasp. Jeno’s head whips around before his sight lands on you and he visibly relaxes. “Fucking hell, you scared me.”

You smile innocently.

He shuts off the device. “What are you doing? Aren't you working?” You roll your eyes. “I can’t. I’m stuck. Help me, my dear bodyguard.”

Jeno pauses the game thoughtfully, looking at the clock on the wall next to him. “It’s almost lunchtime. Do you plan on going out?”

A wide smile breaks onto your face. “Well, now that you mention it…” Jeno stifles laughter as you eagerly grab your stuff and get ready to head out together.

Friday. Noon.

“Do you like your bodyguard?” Minjeong unexpectedly asks in the middle of your girls’ lunch.

You tilt your head to the side, sipping on your drink. “Do I like Jeno? I mean, sure. We don’t fight as much as we used to…” you nod pensively.

Chaeryeong snickers while Minjeong rolls her eyes.

“Y/n, sweetie. I mean like as in feeling attraction towards him. Any romantic feelings?” she emphasizes. You stop sipping, your mouth parting off the straw habitually.

“What,” you swallow, “makes you ask that?”

They both shrug simultaneously. There’s a certain look in their eyes that you can’t decipher. “You see,” Minjeong starts, “this is the first time in our lives that we’ve seen you act like this towards someone of the opposite sex.”

You think you hear crickets chirping off from far away. In what language would you possibly be able to understand what that means?

Chaeryeong bursts out laughing at the dumbfounded expression on your face before adding, “yeah, and he even calls you by your first name. Did he ask you or did you ask him to do that-”

You clear your throat, “You know what? I think I have to go. Jeno must be waiting for me,” you cough. “Oh dear, look at the time- I need to head out. I’ll contact you guys later!”

You pathetically smile for a split second before gathering your things and dashing off, looking for the nearest exit and private area for you to call jeno to come pick you up.

“Hello? The bill!” Minjeong calls out indignantly.

You curse. “I’ll get it next time,” you yell back before squeezing your eyes shut and pushing past the doors.

While walking away, you round past a corner without paying attention, too distracted trying to contact jeno. You bump into something firm, stumbling back.

You look up, it’s a random man that you’ve never seen and don't want to anymore after seeing how his face changes when he takes in your appearance. You try to smile politely, although you don’t feel like it.

“Excuse me.” Your attempt to sidestep the man fails. He steps in your way purposefully, trying to laugh and smile as if it was a coincidental accident. This has happened to you too many times to count, so it only annoys you even further at this point.

“Hey, are you interested in-"

“Sorry. "I’m busy at the moment.” You don’t even attempt to smile at this point. He frowns, and you try again to pass him.

“Wait-“ he takes your arm and you feel disgust rise through you. “Let me go,” you command. He doesn’t.

“Oh, come on-“

“What do you think you’re doing?” You both turn around, and your heart sinks in relief when you see him. Jeno takes your hand, and you gasp when he pulls you closer to him. “Excuse you, but she’s with me. Thank you and goodbye.”

You can barely stutter anything out as he guides you to a secluded area, sitting you down on a nearby bench. Jeno places his hands on his hips. “Don’t go off like that without letting me know,” he scolds gently. “You scared me.”

You inhale sharply, avoiding his gaze. “A-alright.”

He raises an eyebrow at your reaction but his next words get interrupted by a call on his phone, and he turns around to answer.

You take this chance to place your hand softly on your chest, right above where your heart was. Your heart that was racing.

❀

This is the first time you’ve gone to a party with jeno. A formal one, but it’s still a party nevertheless.

You already spilled all the details to jeno in the car, informing him on what these ‘parties’ were really for. It was for those old snotty rich people to either set up their kids together or gossip to gain information and get an upper hand for their businesses. Essentially- a damn waste of your time. But as your father once said, any way to boost your reputation and public standing is good enough.

He nods, soaking in all your words. You take his hand and squeeze it gently. “Sorry, Jen,” and the nickname makes his chest tighten, “but it’s going to be a whole lot more boring than my father’s meetings.”

❀

Turns out that you’re very right.

Jeno spends most of his time people-watching. Of course, he was still guarding you, his eyes would flick over towards you occasionally, but there’s wasn’t much to see when 99% the time you had a fake smile on your face. Yes, the business-friendly one that most people wouldn’t catch, but jeno has seen it enough times to know what was a real or a fake smile from you.

He can easily describe the way your eyes crinkle and your mouth splits into a wide grin- he swears your dark orbs sparkle every time. But that wasn’t the kind of smile you wore now.

Jeno politely declines an offer for a glass of champagne for the 10th time- he doesn’t dare drink on the job. He looks over to where you are, and immediately his eyes capture the picture of you by the bar, drink placed next to you as you stare up at whatever stupid show is on the widescreen tv, the colors flashing back down onto your skin.

His gaze never breaks until he sees an unfamiliar man slide next to you. His bodyguard instincts go off but you don’t seem to notice the man and he doesn’t do anything to interact with you. Jeno hesitates, it wasn’t his duty to cut in whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. He watches you talk for a couple of minutes, not paying too much attention.

He sighs, about to turn away when he catches a flash of something in the man’s hand, reflected off from the tv screen’s lights- the hand that’s moving away from your glass.

Well, shit. You’re completely clueless, having looked in the opposite direction of that man and therefore didn’t see anything suspicious of the sort. Immediately, jeno gets up from his spot leaning against the wall, making his way over to you. In the process, he encounters at least five groups of people that get in his way and prevent his path towards you.

Puffing a breath of frustration, you’ve moved to another part of the room with the glass in your hand by the time he gets over to the bar, seemingly very deep in conversation with a few important-looking people judging by their outfits.

Jeno’s sweating nervous sweat in his suit and he absolutely hates it. Every single time you raise the glass to your lips only to bring it back down because you have something important to contribute to the conversation, he feels like a piece of him has shriveled up and died.

It’s not as simple as it seems. More specifically, it’s just not his right to jump in whoever he wants. It’s rude etiquette and one of the first things he’s ever learned at his training school. Yes, there’s the whole you could die shit, and yes that’s a huge deal. But for some reason, all his instructors also made it a huge fucking deal not to interfere in business talk. Because for some ridiculous reason jeno will never get, rich people can’t stand it when “lower class” people interrupt them. And it makes jeno utterly furious when he just wants to walk over to you and rip that cursed drink out of your delicate, manicured hands.

He waits for a good moment. Any moment. He also forgets how popular you are. Jeno doesn’t want to admit it but it certainly irks him to see so many guys confidently walk up to you as if they think they can even get close to receiving your number. Except, jeno also feels a gratifying amount of satisfaction seeing the look of rejection on their faces just mere seconds later.

Jeno wants to go to you. He also wants to find the dumbass who spiked your drink in the first place, but the fear that you’ll take a sip the second he looks away overpowers him. It seems like there’s never going to be a moment he can jump in, and he contemplates just interrupting your conversation. What would the consequences be?

The split second you turn away from those dumb entrepreneurs or whoever jeno doesn’t care about, to raise that glass to your lips, he practically charges forward, ripping your wrist away and effectively spilling the drink in your hands all over the floor.

Astounded, you look up to see Jeno’s intense stare, breathing heavily. There’s complete silence around you, and luckily only in your proximity did by-passers notice.

Your expression says it all. What the hell?

He clenches his jaw, leaning in. “Spiked,” he mutters. Your eyes widen, and a bazillion thoughts course through your head before you remember where you are.

The people next to you are still just as speechless as you were, and once again you thank your years of practice that have led you to this day.

Your face automatically corrects to your business face and you start laughing, making eye contact with all the bewildered people in front of you. You throw a hand out, pretending to cover your mouth to stifle the laughs.

“It’s my father. Apparently, he gave directions to make sure I didn’t drink tonight.” You smile apologetically to the servants cleaning up the mess.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow,” you add, and the people begin laughing nervously and in relief. “-you know my father,” you quip and the laughter after that seems more relaxed. Crisis averted, you internally pat yourself on the back.

Most of the drink is already spilled all over the ground, but just to seal the deal you smile reassuringly to everyone nearby again before just completely trashing it, dropping the entire glass and all in the trash can without a second thought.

❀

The rest of the night goes by quickly- mainly since you ask jeno to take you home asap, and he quickly obliges. When he drives off, he shifts his gaze over to you. He can’t read the expression on your face as you stare straight ahead at the road.

“Are you okay?”

You exhale, looking at jeno. “Honestly? I have no idea.” A beat passes before you speak up again.

“But thank you for saving my life, again.”

Jeno swallows. He’s familiar with this. You’re doing it. Deflecting.

The sound of your hand slamming against the side of the car door almost makes him jump. He looks at you, concerned. There’s a determined expression he sees on your face, one he hasn’t seen often- if not at all.

“I’m not doing this anymore.”

He almost has a heart attack the moment you say that. “What-“

“I’m done being scared. I’m done pretending I’m okay and that nobody is trying to kill me, and I’m done doing nothing about it.”

You press your lips together. “Jeno,” you state firmly. The car rolls to a slow at the stop sign. “Did you happen to see who it was?”

He bites his lip, almost ashamed. “No. It was a man. Dark styled hair, gray suit. All I got was his backside, I’m sorry y/n.”

“No,” you shake your head. “That’s good. That’s better than nothing. But,” you fidget, wanting to curl up into a ball, “Why would anyone try to do this to me?”

Jeno tilts his head, “Most likely it’s someone trying to get to your father through you. Don’t worry, we’ll report it and find whoever’s behind it if there’s one at all.”

“Right.” Your head falls against the window with a thud. “This is annoying.” Jeno and you share a look, a grin coming up on both of your faces.

“Well, all I can say is that I’m impressed by your cover-up. It’s just like you were a professional actress in a movie. You handled that very well,” he speaks up.

You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck, and you clear your throat. “Thanks,” you mutter. Jeno cocks his head. This isn’t the first time you’ve reacted like this.

He calls your name, and your head shoots up. “yeah?”

“Do you always get this flustered when I compliment you?”

You scoff exaggeratedly, looking anywhere but at jeno’s face. “Yeah, right.” You cringe, your sudden voice crack really did you dirty.

Jeno bites the inside of his cheek to suppress the smile and laughter that so desperately want to bubble out of him.

❀

This is bad. This is very bad.

It seems as if jeno is taking advantage of this newfound weakness against you, and you do not appreciate it one bit. You enjoyed holding the power over him, but now that he can make you become the sweatiest, stuttering mess in the room when you were specifically trained to not do that since you were (basically) born, it makes you wonder if you took it for granted.

“You look pretty today.”

“Your hair smells so nice.”

The one time he called you princess you swear you almost fainted.

And the worst part is?

You have no clue why this occurs. Your body simply reacts without thinking. It makes you want to pull your hair out and keeps you up all fucking night long.

Jeno’s cocky smirk shows up in your nightmares or in reality, dreams.

“Hey, y/n,” he asks one day. You hum in response. “Who’s that one friend of yours that works here?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Chaeryeong?”

If you would have bothered to look up, you would have seen the cockiest and most mischievous smile on jeno’s face. “Right, that one. I just thought she was pretty,” he states casually, preparing for your reaction.

Your pen falls flat on the table. Your eyebrow twitches. Three, four, five seconds pass.

“What?” You ask in the quietest, calmest voice Jeno has ever heard since he’s met you.

Was it just him or did the temperature in the room drop three degrees?

He looks so innocent you don’t know if you want to punch him or hug him as a five-year-old would do to a teddy bear. “Hm? I just said she was pretty, that’s all. Right? I mean, she’s your friend.”

“Yeah, right…” you reply, distracted. Jeno counts five seconds, pretending to walk off a little way.

You let out a huge scoff, suddenly scribbling furiously in your notebook like you did the first week you met jeno.

“…are you okay, y/n?”

“Perfectly fine,” you respond with gritted teeth. You weren’t bothered at all. You didn’t care about jeno at all. No, none. Nothing. You don’t care about the fact that jeno and chaeryeong would look so good together and no, you don’t fucking care at all.

You hear small snickers off to the side, and you glare furiously at jeno before he quiets down.

It’s not until you wake up in the middle of the night at 2 am with a horrible pillow head that you realize it.

That fucker’s been doing it on purpose.

Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, name it and Jeno has seen you wear it before. You undoubtedly possessed one of the most extravagant wardrobes with pieces from famous designers all over the world. Decorated with expensive, rare crystals and accessories that probably cost more than jeno’s life and worn all on you like it was nothing.

But it was never like this.

No one can deny your beauty, radiating from every part of you. It’s always been there, only today the clothes you wear make it even more noticeable. Your bold, sleek (and quite revealing) dress paired with sharp high heels. The first thing that catches jeno’s eye is your hair, styled up high so delicately that makes him think it must’ve taken at least 3 hours.

They all make a huge dent in Jeno’s shield.

The whole day he was told that you were busy, and now he suddenly understands why, gulping. “W-where exactly are we going again?”

You smirk, pretending to act innocent although nearly the whole room stares at you in shock. “A cocktail party. I have to meet a potential partner.”

Jeno’s too dumbstruck to ask you what kind of partner (and he later regrets it.)

Alright, so maybe the idea popped in your head soon after your father informed you that a potential business partner was attending the party later today. It gave you an excuse to get dolled up- who doesn’t like to do that every once in a while? Besides, there was no way you would pass up an opportunity to catch jeno off guard.

❀

This strange, foreign feeling that derives from the bottom of his stomach and rises up his throat makes him sick. It forces jeno to want to punch a wall or anyone nearby, and he almost obliges. More than once, the wine glass in his delicate hand almost shatters and he doesn’t drink. Jeno hasn’t, and he most certainly will not, but he’ll accept anything to just ground him, ground him before he does something he’ll definitely regret.

Bodyguards weren’t allowed in private rooms. Jeno can only stand outside the door, pacing back and forth as he tries to identify what this horrid sensation is. The only thing that reaches his ears is the sound of your laughter. Pressing his ear against the door in an attempt to eavesdrop (he was that desperate apparently), produced no results when the only noise was your soft murmurs muffled by the door. Your giggles were ones that he got to hear, not whoever this “potential partner” of yours should even deserve.

It just irks him. That’s it. His worst fears come to light when he recalls this afternoon. You look ready to kill in that attire of yours, and your mention of a partner.

There’s no way…

marriage?

The glass in his hand cracks and it immediately breaks his stupor. He awkwardly places it down before he does any more damage. Anything, jeno does anything ranging from squats to lunges to distract his wild mind. Until finally, the door opens and in a split second, he’s back to his formal self. One man walks out, then another, and finally one last one who waits for you to shake your hand politely before bowing and heading off with the others.

He tries, hard, to pretend he’s unbothered, but his eyes flicking back between you and the leaving men reveal his true intentions. Still smiling, you sigh contently before greeting your bodyguard.

“How,” his voice is gruff and scratchy from not having used it for a while, and he swears your smile grows just the teeniest amount, “how was it?”

You start walking at a casual pace, dress flowing behind you as jeno deftly avoids stepping on it while following. You could get used to this.

“Good.” Suddenly, you turn around to face him. Taking a step closer to jeno creates a ripple effect as he takes a step back, and another one, and another until shit- the wall’s there.

You search jeno’s eyes, unwavering no matter how close your body gets to his. You’re much taller with those heels, jeno notes as he avoids eye contact.

Keeping a distance you deem appropriate between your bodies, you lean the slightest in, and jeno gets a whiff of your sweet perfume- it’s almost sickening as he pleads for his eyes to stay open. Jeno prays that someone walks past the corridor so you’ll step back, give the man some room to breathe, but it seems that he’s out of luck.

Your voice is so full of fake concern, even he can see through it.

“Are you alright?” you look at him from under your eyelashes. His nod is almost indiscernible as you lean in closer, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sure?”

He chokes out a ‘yes,’ and you finally take it, stepping away. You pretend you don’t see his sigh of relief and give him a couple of breather seconds.

“So,” he finally gets out, “who was that?”

You feel giddy. Exiting the party into the chilly night, you shiver before shooting him a look. “No one important. Why? Are you jealous?”

Jeno actually scoffs at that, shoving his hands in his suit pockets. “Yeah, right. I don’t care at all who- but uh, if it’s really a mar-“

You continue walking, allowing the smile to break fully on your face. “It was just a potential business partner for our upcoming exhibition. No need to get jealous, Jen.” He stops walking at that. You can hear the lack of footsteps and turn around, crossing arms to keep in the heat. That’s when jeno notices. His eyes rake over you, and suddenly, the cold doesn’t bother you. Jeno sniffs, looking away as he grumbles, “Then there was no need to wear all that..”

A puff of air leaves your mouth as you laugh, visible in the frosty air. You open your mouth to respond but your lips part without any sound leaving. The feeling of jeno wrapping his suit jacket around you has your blood-chilling even more if that was possible.

“Come on, let’s go home, y/n.” When he receives no response, he turns to find you as still as a statue, staring off into the distance. He squints. Are you blushing?

His hand waving in front of your eyes allows you to unfreeze, jeno’s concerned face coming into focus. “Why is your face red?”

“What?” You jolt, “N-no it isn’t,” you lie, although you quickly start hitting your cheeks as if it would magically will them to stop.

“You know doing that is only going to make it worse,” he remarks, amused.

“Stop being a smartass and drive me home, will you?”

He salutes jokingly. “Anything for the missus,” and you push his shoulder playfully.

❀

It’s nearing the Christmas season. For you to get into the spirit, there’s only one thing that you do every year. An unbreakable rule, a small self pat on the back for all the hard work you’ve done this year.

Of course, it’s splurging-

on yourself.

Jeno rolls his eyes at the sight of you. You couldn’t decide between an orange Hermes bag or a Gucci handbag, so you weigh the two options in front of him, frowning. Both ridiculously expensive that he doesn’t bother looking at them.

“Which one looks better on me?”

“Both.”

You pout, “Come on, I’ve been switching back and forth for two hours now.” You continue, “the orange looks better with my-“

Two hours too many, his eyebrow twitches as he tunes out the rest of your words. Puffing out a breath of exasperation, he pinches his nose ridge. “You look the prettiest, alright? So don’t go asking me anymore because either doesn’t compare to you…” he trails off in frustrated mutters while pinching his nose bridge.

You fall silent.

❀

The gift is held out, a dainty box with a glittering silver bow wrapped around it. While jeno was answering a call, you quickly ran off to the designated store that had been in your sights since the moment you arrived at the shopping centre. Having brought proper disguise to wear this time, you felt safe enough entering without him.

Jeno’s eyes widen in surprise. “What’s this?”

You shrug. “Just something for coming along with me today,” and before he can say anything, you swiftly intercept, “I know you’re forced to since it’s your job, but really.” You glance down at the ground in embarrassment. “It’s a thank you gift, so I won’t allow you to return it.”

He holds the box in his hand, admiring the packaging. Throat dry, he swallows before opening it.

A pristine silver watch presents itself to him, almost mockingly- something he could never afford. Reading the brand, he grasps a rough estimate of the cost, and honestly, jeno can’t expect less from you. It’s beautiful, yes, and he’s been needing a new one for a while now, but…

“Y/n, you know I-“

You raise a hand out to effectively stop him. “None of that. I won’t have any of it.”

He presses his lips together, examining the watch once more as it ticks silently, the sleek finish gleaming against the streetlights. “Okay then,” his voice floats over to you softly, “thank you, y/n.”

“I owe my life to you-”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s my duty, and… I never want to see you hurt.”

You nod, replying with a tender, “I know.”

And with that, you quickly bid him goodnight with a pacing heart.

❀

Your father calls you early in the morning to his office. You’re greeted by his stern expression, a usual that you’ve come to expect. But what you don’t expect is to see jeno sitting across from you, akin to the first day you met him. The look on jeno’s face makes you stop in your tracks. His hands rest on his knees, hands clasped firmly together as his eyes stare at the floor and the floor only- the unreadable expression makes you frown unconsciously.

Your father calls out your name, and you bow with your gaze still focused on jeno.

“Why… why did you call for me?”

The CEO lets out a long, heaving sigh. “I’ve been thinking. After I found out about your spiked drink at the party three weeks ago, a suggestion was made that we obtain a proper squad -a team of bodyguards- to protect you. Lee Jeno is a fine man,” he pauses to glance at the unmoving silhouette, “but it seems that more protective measures need to be taken.”

You get the underlying message. Everyone knows, Jeno doesn’t work with others. That means replacing- you fucking hate the word- him with a whole squad just to watch over you all the time.

You tense. “What are you implying about Jeno? Are you saying that he can’t protect me? Father, that’s completely absurd. He has been trained-“

“You know very well that’s not what I have said.”

You bite your lip. “And therefore? Jeno has been protecting me since day one, and he will continue to. I allowed you to hire me bodyguard, how much more do you want from me?“ your eyes flicker to jeno. “I put my faith in you to trust Jeno wholeheartedly and have done so. Don’t tell me false lies without thinking of your daughter.”

At that, Jeno is stunned. For once, he looks at your asserted figure, unable to move until you call out his name, instructing him to follow you out of the room. Jeno follows you silently as you cross the hallway into an empty staff room. He patiently waits for you to speak up.

There’s so much you want to say, and no words to put it into effect. You turn around, and he automatically notices the storm brewing in your eyes. That conflicted look makes him want to bury you in his arms. He does.

The wind is knocked out of you, body freezing in his warm embrace. Eventually, your arms come to wrap around his waist. Your head falls to lay on his shoulder, and it feels way too natural to make sense. “Jeno…”

“Y/n.”

“You’re not going. I’m not letting you.” You pull back, letting him see the sincerity in your eyes, and he does, adam’s apple bobbing slightly. Then a certain thought strikes your head, and you quickly release him, embarrassed.

“Unless- you, unless you want to stop being my bodyguard.”

He frowns. “I never said that,” he quirks an eyebrow, and you sigh in relief. He places a hand on your shoulder and you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry y/n, I’ll never leave your side.”

The evident happiness shown in your eyes is enough to make him happy too. Perhaps it’s the new environment you’re placed in or the situation that just occurred, but it’s almost as if a filter was placed over jeno’s eyes when he looks at you. His eyes can follow your every action and he becomes conscious of your remaining warmth that came from being pressed against him. Your outfit, hairstyle, scent, all feel so fresh to him. He wants to shake it off- it’s somewhat overwhelming.

After seeing you stand up for him, stand up against your father, it’s like a switch flipped and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

❀

The long-awaited holiday of the year is coming up, and Jeno soon realized the extent to which he desperately needs to buy gifts. Desperately so, or else his friends would beat him up. Not that they could or he would let them, but jeno’s generally known in the friend group for lagging behind due to his work schedule, and he’s determined to make a difference this year. Jeno doesn’t have much time off- barely any at all, but the one day he does, a sense of loneliness washes over him. The one day he convinces himself to go out to buy presents, the reluctance of being alone stops him and before he knows it, his phone is dialing a number- your name flashing on the screen.

The rush of delight that fills him when you almost immediately agree unnerves him. Before hanging up, jeno quickly reminds you to cover your identity- mask up, wear a hat, do whatever- and you reluctantly comply. You don’t question who or what he’s buying gifts for, you just tag along.

At the crowded shopping plaza, the festive cheer fills the air, and finally, it sets in. Jeno grabs your hand instinctively as you weave through the crowd. You go through a total of six stores until jeno feels satisfied with all his gifts. You helped him pick out an ugly sweater and he swore he’s never laughed harder than at your expressions of surprise and confusion from all the bizarre patterns. "Why do people like to wear these... kinds of clothes?" you wonder out loud, and he bursts out laughing.

Before you leave, there seems to be a band playing celebratory music in the center of the plaza, and you can’t help but drag jeno across to the growing crowd that listens. Finding a good spot near the back of the crowd just for safety measures, you and jeno stand there. He silently watches you bounce along to the music, body swaying back and forth as you listen in glee. Chuckling, he almost glances away until he hears your voice. A strange man stands to the left of you, leaving over to ask you a seemingly harmless question. It really shouldn’t bother Jeno, but an unsettled feeling unnerves him as you answer casually, quiet enough he can’t hear what you said. Still, he stays silent.

That’s when he catches the man’s hand and glint reflecting across the light, the distance between his knife and you decreasing. Instinctively, Jeno lunges forward and grabs your arm to pull you to him quickly as he tries to get between the two of you. It all happens in a split second- in one moment he’s wide-eyed and springing forward and the next he’s gripping onto you tightly, almost shaking your body as he questions you. For a minute he thinks you’re fine, your wide and flustered eyes staring back at him as you hold just as tight onto his tensed arms.

Then he follows your eyes, your very eyes that trail down to your side, and his blood runs cold. He sees the blooming patch of red, and immediately he whips around to find the damned culprit but there’s no one. You stumble, and that’s when Jeno begins to panic, no longer caring as he yells out to the people around you to call for an ambulance.

The last thing you remember before blacking out was jeno’s eyes shining with alarm and distress as he calls out your name.

❀

This may be the first time Jeno’s completely out of his senses. His leg bounces in front of him as he clasps his hands together, praying that you’re okay. The hospital is mainly quiet, the noise dying down after the couple of hours that have passed since you were admitted. Once the sound of footsteps approaches him, he jumps up to see the doctor, waiting with a neutral expression.

You’re going to be okay. You’re alive and well. It was just the situation and sight of blood that must’ve caused you so much shock that you fainted. Fortunately, you were pulled away by jeno enough so that the knife wasn’t able to impale you- jeno nearly gags- but only leave a long scratch that ran across your side. It was enough to keep you in the hospital for a set amount of days, but nothing that would impair you. Jeno isn’t allowed to see you yet, and he goes to testify to the police and your father. It pains him to describe the scene in detail- the sickening man who did that to you, but he finishes one way or another. Jeno knows it’s deeper than this, there’s more to this and he’s had a feeling for a while. All he’s told is that your father is keeping the situation quiet in order not to arouse the public media (although it obviously has) and that a private investigation surrounding the attempted murders is ongoing. Jeno’s left to sit in the cold hospital waiting room, alone with his thoughts and feelings.

He feels the guilt breaking him- he’s the one who made the promise and he couldn’t protect you.

The first time he saw you, his eyes almost well up with tears. No matter how much you’ve been through, how much you’ve suffered- you’re always so strong. Your gentle smile and tired eyes tear his heart even further. Jeno states your name quietly, trudging closer. You pat next to you, implying for him to come closer. Where does he even start?

“I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. If only I had-“

“Why are you apologizing?” You stare at him with an incredulous look, and he blinks.

“What do you mean why? You got stabbed, y/n. I wasn’t fast enough so you got hurt and now you’re here, in the hospital.”

“Are you serious? Or is this some kind of joke?”

Jeno can’t believe it. Was it the medication making you loopy? “You’re hurt. I couldn’t even do my job properly and he was right there-,” he clenches his fists and lowers his face in regret.

Your warm hand placed on top of his gets him to shut up. He looks up and sees your tiny smile, hidden with a secret emotion he can’t discern. “Jeno,” you say.

“Stop looking at this,” you gesture to your wound, “and start looking at this.” You open your arms wide, showing you in all your glory- including the dumb hospital gown and iv drip attached to your arm. Your eyes soften. “You saved my life, and I’m only here because of you. Think of how much worse it could have been,” you press and he doesn’t say anymore or want to imagine anything more.

“Okay, y/n. Just please forgive me for breaking your trust. You put your faith in me and-

You roll your eyes stubbornly. “I forgive you, now please stop with that depressing talk. I’m completely fine and honestly more irritated at the fact that I have to stay here confined while everyone gets to do exciting stuff.”

“Chaos happening at the office because of your almost death isn’t exciting- at least, I don’t find it to be,” he jokes, finally feeling the mood lighten. You scoff.

Your father spending most of the time conferring with the police and media sources instead of visiting you at least once could mean more or less to you at this point.

He scoots his chair closer to your hospital bed. “You’re not… bothered by him? It’s like your own father and only family doesn’t even care for your safety, just the public’s opinion on the company.”

You manage a tiny shrug in order not to mess with your stitches. “That’s just how it is when your father is the CEO of the largest shareholding company in the country.” You look down to fiddle with your fingers. “Besides, I don’t know what I’d do if he did care.”

That’s when Jeno realizes how alone you are. You have friends but they have their own appointments. You have family but they never visit. Jeno resolves to make up for all of the absences in your life.

❀

You’re surprised by how much Jeno stops by and keeps you company at the hospital. Without fail, he brings snacks or random stories every visit. He’s not officially on duty since you’re restricted to the hospital, but he still tells you the happenings at the office, or which two workers have been revealed to be secretly dating (and every time you clap your hands together and yell “I knew it!”), or sweet messages from co-workers that aren’t able to visit you in person. And, the update on the case. They got the guy who stabbed you- the same one who tried to poison you that one night, and it makes Jeno feel a little better. For now, the motive is just trying to get to the CEO by using you and he hopes the police stick with it.

“You know,” you speak up one afternoon, “you don’t have to be here. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get a break from being my bodyguard and seeing me 24/7.” The look Jeno sends you in response effectively shuts you up.

On the days you force him not to come in or he’s reached the maximum limit of visiting you for the week- stupid, he knows- he sends you messages that leave a smile on your face and your heart fluttering.

❀

Well, this a certainly a predicament you would have never thought to find yourself in. Jeno’s foot taps the floor in a random beat as he recounts the drama that occurred at the office today. Your eyes keep slipping towards the simple clock on the wall, and you feel your palms grow increasingly clammy. Jeno, of course, takes note of this. You always listen intently to his stories, so the one time he feels the absence of your gaze on him, he knows something is wrong.

“What is it?”

You almost jump. “Huh?”

He purses his lips together, “Something’s bothering you.” Internally, you debate the consequences of revealing the issue. Would you regret this? And then you remember you have almost been murdered multiple times. This one thing couldn’t possibly kill you, right?

You take a deep breath. “The nurse said that today, I could finally change into my normal clothes and you know how much I hate wearing this stupid hospital gown.” You bite your lips and jeno’s eyes subconsciously follow the action. “But it’s four o’clock and she still hasn’t come in to help me so… couldyoupossiblyhelpmetakethisoff?”

As if realizing what you just said out loud, you shoot your gaze to the nearby window in the room, heat filling your body. Silence permeates the room and you so desperately wish you could reverse time and keep your damn mouth shut. Why, of all times, do most hospital gowns not have zippers, and the one you’re currently wearing does?

“You know what, forget-“

“Okay.”

You speak at the same time. You whip towards him. His ears are flushed red as he avoids your gaze awkwardly.

“I-I won’t look, I’ll-“

You blink, a sudden feeling of helplessness rising within. “I know. I can’t reach it because of my stitches so can- can you just unzip the…”

“Y-yeah, I got it.”

You hold your breath as he approaches you, fingertips delicately placed near the top of your back. His hands hesitate before softly reaching for the zipper, pulling down slowly. You can feel the coldness of his fingers seep into your back but you grit your teeth and mention nothing, heart pounding.

“I promise I’m not looking anywhere like that,” he mutters while zipping it down further. You reassure him that it’s fine before shivering when his cold fingers come in contact with your bare shoulder to help take the gown off. There’s this sudden urge to turn around to face him, but it’s practically impossible in your current state, so you close your eyes instead and focus on your breathing. He stills for a second, but his eyes can’t help but slowly get pulled into your wound now in plain view, and he swallows. Luckily, most of your body is covered still by the gown, but he still sees the broad amount of smooth skin that wasn’t attacked or worked on.

Jeno whispers a soft, “I’m done.”

The door clicks open noisily and your heads both whip towards the source of the sound. A nurse stands there, one hand on the clipboard and another still on the door handle, observing the scene.

“It’s not-“

“I wasn’t doing anything, I…“ he splutters.

Excuses and explanations fill the air until eventually Jeno feels it’s best to leave and he practically dashes out of the room. You can only sit there, astounded.

The nurse clears her throat, “Well then, I guess I’ll finish helping you change.” You nod wordlessly.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

You jump and it stretches your stitches, causing a wince to erupt out of you as the nurse calms you. “Oh my, I didn’t mean to startle-“

“It’s fine,” you mumble distractedly, apparently more preoccupied with the aforementioned thought. Does jeno look like your boyfriend? Has the media noticed and misunderstood? Was there even something to misunderstand about?

❀

December 25. AKA, Christmas Day.

You receive the green light from the doctors to go home. After expressing your uttermost gratitude to the doctors and nurses that took care of you, you feel the rising excitement at the prospect of finally returning home. You get to see your grandmother who wasn’t able to visit with duties at your penthouse and all your friends consumed by work.

And there was one other person. The one that you wanted to see the most, but you sent him home. It was Christmas- there was absolutely no way you would make him work, forced to stay next to you the whole day. (although, he wouldn’t be complaining, and neither would you.) You remember commanding him to stay home the night before, Christmas Eve, and celebrate with whoever he wanted. No matter how pleased you were when he protested, you make him promise to not worry about you and enjoy the day off.

“It’s Christmas, Jen.”

“Yes, but…”

“Go home and stop worrying so much- at least for one day, okay?” Your thumb softly smooths out his furrowed brow. “For me?”

Reluctantly, he responds, “Fine. As long as you promise to text me tomorrow night.”

You beam. “Of course, I promise.”

On the other side of town, Jeno checks his phone anxiously. He swears his anxiety (or possible separation issues?) has never been this bad.

“Dude, how many times are you gonna check your phone?” Haechan snorts, jumping over the couch to plop down next to him. “Every time it goes off you’re scrambling for it like you’re in the Hunger Games or whatever.” He slides even closer, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and jeno grimaces.

“Could it be," he taps his chin cheekily, "your secret girlfriend?”

When jeno’s ears turn red and he doesn’t respond, haechan’s eyes grow wide, contrary to Jen’s belief. “No way, is it actually? I was just joking but-“

“Leave him alone,” Mark shakes his head helplessly. “It's probably his work- you know he’s always on call. Give him a break,” mark finishes while leaving haechan to splutter and jeno to heave a sigh of relief.

Although jeno agrees with you, it was nice to finally see his friends and have a day off while celebrating Christmas, he can’t help but wonder what you’re up to. How are you? Are you home now? Are you alone- who’s celebrating with you? Is he the only one thinking this much about you?

Hours later, jeno finally returns home before midnight. His excuse to his friends? He had to wake up early tomorrow to work. Lame, yes, but he needed to see you. He exhales, finally in solitude after spending the whole day with his rowdy friends. Throwing his jacket on the couch, he lays on the bed before taking out his phone.

His stomach flips- two unread messages from you.

[11:38 pm] you: Hey jen

[11:38 pm] you: How was your Christmas?

[11:40 pm] jeno: it was good!

He sighs while typing out a response, before shaking his head and backspacing to write another.

[11:42 pm] jeno: are you free

[11:42 pm] you: Right now?

[11:42 pm] jeno: uh

[11:43 pm] jeno: yeah

If any bystander were to see the scene in front of them, they would almost believe it was a clip playing from a k-drama. Jeno smiles shyly, giggling at his phone as if he was a teenager talking to their crush.

[11:46 pm] you: Yeah, I’m free ❤️

Jeno gasps audibly, placing a hand on his chest as he lights up like a little child. No way, you sent a heart?

[11:46 pm] you: Sorry!

[11:46 pm] you: That was a typo…

He quite visibly deflates at your text. He presses his lips together in a thin line while his fingers briskly move across the screen.

[11:47 pm] jeno: then ill see you outside your place in 5 min?

[11:48 pm] you: Sure ❤️

Beaming at your next message, he throws his phone haphazardly somewhere while getting ready as fast as possible, scrambling all over his apartment.

[11:48 pm] you: That wasn’t an accident this time ;)

His breath floats away from him in the cold air, coming out in visible puffs while he runs towards your apartment building. It’s never once felt that long of a walk with you, but now it seems as if it stretched on for miles.

His legs come to a stop once he sees your figure just feet away. It’s far enough that you could barely shout to each other, but enough to see the expression on your faces. A wide split grin, eye-smiles, sparkling pupils, cheeks protruding so much it hurts.

It’s been a while. It’s taken a while, too. Jeno finally sees you. He finally sees your rarity-the one lone, twinkling star in the sky- and he never wants to lose it. The time it’s taken to build up the courage over fear is uncertain, but the sight of you in a matching set of purple pajamas with cute designs printed all over and is that his suit jacket that you’re wearing? Either way, he’s certain he can’t hold it back anymore (and probably couldn’t for much longer).

“I don’t think I can run right now,” you call out, and he laughs from his spot. Jeno looks on as you hold your arms open wide, so welcomingly, and he runs.

Right as he reaches you, he purposefully slows to embrace you in a gentle hug without hurting you.

“Welcome back, y/n,” he murmurs into your hair. You squeeze tighter, inhaling his comforting scent. Pulling back after a couple of moments, jeno looks down at your choice of outfits. “Wow,” he breathes, “you look beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “In my pajamas?” He nods. “Of course.”

You look away, face burning, but the white powdery substance falling onto your face grabs your attention. Your head shoots up, as you look on delightedly. “Jeno! Look!”

He can only stare at you admiring the snowfall with a red nose and bright, twinkling eyes. You glance towards him, catching him in the middle of staring at you. You call his name out. Jeno bites his lip, taking one of your hands. Your face turns to one of confusion at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?” He pulls you closer, taking in a deep breath before looking into your eyes.

“You mean a lot to me. Like, a whole fucking lot.”

Your eyes widen. Alarmed at the sudden confession, you bring your two cold hands up to hold his face, searching his eyes with a question hidden on your tongue.

On impulse, jeno leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. At first, you can’t move, only noting the warm and foreign sensation on your lips. Then it hits you.

Why aren’t you pushing him away? …why doesn’t it feel wrong?

At the lack of a response, jeno pulls back. You stare at each other for a second before he opens his mouth to say something, and you cut him off.

“Kiss me again,” you command, and he enthusiastically does. His arms wrap around you as you grip the sides of his jacket in your cold fingers, allowing warmth to envelop you both inside and out. The taste of his lips on yours becomes addicting, and you force yourself to stop.

Breaking part, you share bashful smiles. Jeno swallows.

“Merry Christmas, y/n. I didn’t really think about getting you a gift but….” he trails off.

You giggle, “Merry Christmas, and me neither.” You beam at each other, the unspoken feelings shared between you two.

“How do you feel?” Jeno asks, bringing you close to him as he admires the tiny snowflakes resting on your eyelashes.

Although it’s freezing outside, and there’s a big fat chance you could get caught by paparazzi right now, you could care less. You can’t help but reply with a tiny smile,

“i think i’m okay right now.”

p.s. there will be an epilogue released jan 28 ;))

#cznnet #lee jeno x reader #jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream imagines #nct dream au #jeno scenarios #lee jeno imagines #jeno smut #nct u x reader #jeno fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios

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loversandantiheroes · 3 years

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Can. Can we talk about how dexterous and clever Whiskey’s hands are. Can we talk about how strong and nimble and skilled they are. Can we.

(Hands anon) And honestly I’m a Frankie and Mando girl as well, you KNOW they hands are just as good 👌🙌

I want you to know I have tried to come back to this ask I don’t know HOW many times, but I always get incredibly distracted and just kind of stare into space with my eyes glazed over for like forty-five minutes. Can’t imagine why...

1.8k words of pure hand-related yearning featuring Din, Frankie, Whiskey, and a bonus Ezra bc I was compelled.

Din’s hands are exactly what you’d expect in some ways - broad and strong as vise-grips, but meticulously deft when it comes to things that require care, whether that’s stripping down his weapons to clean them or patching your wounds (a surprise in and of itself given the impatient, almost flippant way he tends to the holes in his own hide). What is surprising is just how soft his hands are under those ever-present gloves. If you ever bring it up he’ll only huff a laugh, insisting his hands are as much a part of his toolkit as his weapons and his armor, and he wouldn’t be much of a Mandalorian if he didn’t take care of his tools. Unpainted beskar needs to be cleaned and polished frequently, his guns need to be maintained, and the leather of his gloves need oiling to stay supple. And his hands, too, need maintaining. And well, hide is hide, and the oil he uses on his leathers goes a long way towards making sure his hands don’t crack or chap.

He’s a man of opposites, especially once you start to get past his defenses. He can be absolutely unyielding and also shockingly gentle. With the armor on he can be almost brazen about the way he touches you, particularly if what’s between you is purely physical. Just scratching an itch? Oh, he can do that, that’s easy. And those hands can lock you down better than any binders. But if it becomes more than that, if he starts pulling you close when he’s just down to his flight suit and there’s no cold press of metal between you, and finally works up the courage to pull those soft-worn gloves off? It’s hard to imagine this is the same man. He’s hesitant. Nearly timid, you think at first, until you realize his hands aren’t trembling just from nerves but from the effort of control. Touch is a luxury Din has never been afforded, something new to learn in the dark of his bunk with you pressed up against him with your back to his chest, overwhelmed by the simple contact of his fingers curling hesitantly around your own. Give him time to breathe, to process, to touch without fear that it will overload him or that he might by some pure accident of excitement touch too hard and hurt when he doesn’t mean to (it is, he still thinks on his more rueful days, what he is built for; not this tenderness). Your patience will absolutely be rewarded.

Frankie’s a bit of a different story, bless his heart. His nails are starting to look a little less ragged these days - the nicotine gum has gone a long way towards both helping him back off the cigarettes and keep him from chewing them ragged when his anxiety’s off the rails - but given when he’s grounded he tends to go for more hands-on jobs, his hands can take a horrible beating. If he’s not seeing anyone he doesn’t bother much trying to take care of them beyond pumice soap and the occasional application of vaseline or bag balm in the winter time when they get chapped. But if that should change, suddenly he’s blisteringly self-conscious about his hands. The spots where the skin is rough and peeling, the calluses that he’ll never be able to file down and the ones he is only just beginning to see fade (index finger, between the first and middle digits - his thumb still worries over it absently, as if trying to rub it out). He buys a nail brush, starts using balm every night, trying to work the coarseness out of his hands before he ever dares to touch you with them.

And god he wants to touch you. Touch is a grounding thing for him, a much-needed anchor to keep him in the here and now. If he’s near enough you’re almost certain to find his hands on you - snaking his fingers between yours, or resting his hand light and warm against your thigh when you come along for a drink with the boys, or pressing his palm flat and solid against your back to keep you steady when he walks you to the car after. And that’s maybe the thing that clings to your bones the strongest: how safe those hands make you feel. He’ll learn your body until he knows every dip and curve, knows the paths to skate his fingertips along, where to press in deep, where to only graze until he’s got every nerve singing. But it’s that sense of safety that overwhelms you, that feeling when his hands cup your face or settle gently on your hips or close warmly around your own that there isn’t a force in the world that could hurt you as long as he’s there.

Tell him so. Fold his hands up in your own, brush your lips over his knuckles, and tell him that you know you’re in good hands - in the best hands. It’ll nearly crack his heart in half to hear it. He knows what those hands have done, no matter how hard he’s tried to wash them clean of it. But if they can make you feel safe, then maybe they’re worth something after all.

Whiskey is too vain not to take care of his hands, let’s be honest. Though there is a bit of practicality to his vanity - there always is, somehow, like the grain of sand that spawns a pearl. He learned early enough that if he was fool enough not to take care of his hands it played hell with his ability to use them properly, and much like Din, he fully recognizes that his hands are as much a necessary tool as anything Statesman could provide him. Decades of experience with his lasso, whip, and guns have left the palms of his hands thickly callused (his right only slightly more so than his left), but careful attention has assured they’re never outright rough. The way he uses those hands, though, that’s a different story. They’re strong and shockingly clever, and just as greedy as the rest of him. Whiskey has a permanent case of Roman hands and Russian fingers, all too likely to have his hand dangerously high up your thigh in public (and far higher still if you’ll let him), but always just out of the view of the people around you. He’s a menace, through and through, but rest assured, he won’t be putting his hands on you unless he’s sure you want that (and if you do, he will absolutely make every second count - he is as greedy for your pleasure as he is his own).

If he’s managed to get himself in a state where there’s more than just his libido involved, well, it’d be disingenuous to suggest that tactile greed ever goes away, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that, but it does change. He still wants to touch you (there isn’t a second in the day this man does not want to be touching you, somehow in some way), but it’s different. It’s smaller touches among the big ones, almost innocuous. Fixing your necklace when it’s crooked. An idle stroke of his thumb along your wrist, or a brush of his fingers along your forehead to sweep the hair out of your eyes. Helping you in or out of your coat, or taking a knee to do up the laces of your winter boots, or nuzzling ever so briefly into the back of your neck while his clever fingers cinch up a knot into the new apron you bought while you were on a baking kick. The man’s got twenty years of latent domesticity stored up and he can’t quite help it if you bring it out in him.

When you meet Ezra, he’s down to just the one hand, though you don’t quite notice at first. You're making your introductions - new dig crew, small, but seemingly well-seasoned, even counting the young girl that keeps a nervous orbit around Ezra - not quite clocking the way his right arm moves just a little different under the thick fabric of his suit until you close your hand around his and feel the hardness of metal under his glove. If anyone is bold enough to ask how he lost the arm, he’ll just give a grin and insist it is not lost: he remembers exactly where he left it. His remaining hand is striking somehow when you first see it without the thick gloves on. Wide palm, thick fingers, a prominent thumb joint. A small black target tattooed there in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. But his right hand, his new hand, he never takes the glove off of that one. It’s accident the first time you see the thing in full, poking your head in his tent to let him know breakfast is running a little late on account of a brief problem with the water pump. You find him sitting on his bunk in a battered thermal shirt with one sleeve cut off, his suit shoved down to his waist as he wrestles the prosthetic into place as Cee adjusts the harness over his shoulders. It’s by no means top of the line, but it’s no cheap thing, that much you can tell. The fingers, you know by now are fully articulated, and you can see now the digits and palm are thickly padded with silicone grips. Ezra’s face hardens at the intrusion, Cee freezing behind him like a startled deer. But then he sees it’s only you and the tension drains, his face softening, and he assures you they’ll both be out in a tick, just as soon as he’s made himself presentable.

It’s weeks later that you realize he’s only ever touched you with his right hand once. Just the handshake that first day. It’s tough to notice, honestly. He’s not one to crowd into your space if you don’t want it, unless of course he’s trying to make a point. You remember the floater that had wandered into your camp trying to make trouble, and the way Ezra had put a seemingly amiable hand on the man’s shoulder as he talked, smiling big and broad, and it wasn’t until the man cried out, dropping to his knees and clutching uselessly at his shoulder that you realized the full strength he carries in that prosthetic. But every time Ezra is close enough to you to touch, it’s his left that finds you. He makes a point of it, even going so far as to stay to your right when you walk together, but you don’t fully notice until one day he turns to you with an awkward twist to take hold of your arm with his left rather than his right.

It’s later, much later, in the dim quiet of your own tent, when the small touches finally snowball into something larger and more urgent and finally you feel that hand on you, bare and broad and warm as he cups the back of your neck to draw you close, and he almost laughs into your mouth when you suddenly ask him why he does that.

“Dear heart, if I am to touch you, I mean to feel it.”

Perma-Tag: @missredherring @dovesnroses @astroboots @magpierhymes @alienprincesspoop @aasimarr @maythxthirstbxwithyou @recklesswit

Pedro Perma-Tag: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @corvueros @thirstworldproblemss @littleferal @krissology @frannyzooey @Forallthestarsinthesky @princess76179

#Anonymous #pedro pascal #din djarin #frankie morales #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #ezra #ezra prospect #hands hands hands #shockingly tame all things considered #ezra's breaking pattern a bit but hell #I finished a thing #I'll take it #this is the part where I have a mild panic over whether or not I should be using taglists for headcanons #I think too much #idk lmk if you don't want to be tagged in these things #I'm gonna go drink coffee and wash dishes

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ktae · 3 years

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one of my fav adhd strategies is lowering the “activation energy” of a task. i feel like executive dysfunction can be explained as like, people with adhd having a very high activation energy for even simple tasks, relative to the activation energy of a neurotypical person, so we need like a catalyst to help us along sometimes. like if i put a toothbrush and toothpaste on my nightstand instead of in the bathroom, it’s easier to start brushing my teeth because i don’t have to go to the bathroom to do it. if i place small garbage cans around my apartment, it’s easier to throw stuff away immediately because i don’t have to walk over to the main trash can. maybe this sounds super lazy but honestly i’ve tried to stop caring as much about that and starting to care more about just doing the daily tasks i need to do even if it seems weird to other people

edit: more examples!

in addition to keeping my toothbrush and toothpaste on my nightstand, i keep multiple toothbrushes there, so if i accidentally leave it on the bathroom counter after i go to spit, i still have one next to my bed. i bring them back to my nightstand when i remember to.

for packing my lunches, i buy individually portioned snacks, fruits, salads, etc. so i can just throw one of each into my lunch bag without having to put it in another bag or tupperware. i know it’s not the most sustainable way to do it but i’d rather buy individually packaged servings of carrots and actually eat them than buy one big bag and let them rot bc i couldn’t get myself to put them in smaller containers for my lunches

this 31-day pill organizer with removable capsules has been a GAME-CHANGER. i don’t have to remember to fill it every single week (i don’t do it at the end of every month either, i just do it when i remember to, which is maybe twice a month at random times), and i can very easily take my meds with me if i run out of time to take them before i leave for work. also, if your insurance will cover 90-day prescriptions, and you can afford the copay for that, do it. it’s so worth it.

i have only a few towels and dishes bc if i have more then the dirty ones just pile up and cause a bigger mess. HOWEVER, i have 24 small washcloths for my face and lots of utensils, because they are so small that they don’t make the mess worse when they pile up, but i can stay functional for longer even if i can’t get myself to do laundry or dishes for a while

i keep flossers in my car and by my bed and just use them whenever . if they sit in the bathroom and i have to do it at a certain time, i won’t. but if i’m just in bed and want to chew on something or whatever i’ll just grab a flosser

for me, baths are easier than showers. i can listen to podcasts better in the bath, and i can keep track of time better.

in general, i’ve had a really hard time with this idea, but i’ve come to the conclusion that when it comes to my hygiene, health, safety, and basic daily functioning, it’s better to just get the thing done whatever way i can rather than forcing myself to do everything perfectly and responsibly and sustainably and adultishly, because if i hold myself to those standards all the time, i won’t take care of myself. like yes, it’d be great if i never used another paper plate and only used regular floss instead of plastic flossers, but living with adhd is fucking hard sometimes. and sustainability is so important, but it’s not worth the cost of your health and wellbeing. do what you need to do to function. you don’t have to be perfect. make more sustainable choices on your good days, when you can do so without sacrificing your own health.

#adhd #executive dysfunction #adhd hacks #neurodivergent #totally okay to reblog!! and add on if u have any tips n tricks!!

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Hi! I hope you’ll answer this question bc it bothers me quite a lot.. https://www.quora.com/What-does-it-mean-now-that-BTS-are-partial-owners-of-Big-Hit-Entertainment do you think it is true what the second person (Christine Herman) said? After reading this, i started to wonder…what if BTS does really have only profit in mind while doing new projects these days? Maybe they don’t really care anymore about creative and meaningful lyrics and sound? With Butter and PTD…all this generic music sung in English. Of course they say “we wanted to make fans feel good”, “butter and ptd represent who we are” and all these things fans want to hear but.. do you really think it’s true? moreover, don’t get me wrong, i don’t find product placement in their reality shows as something terrible, i believe this is a normal thing, however, nowadays the members really film ads and do marketing a lot. so yeah, for some reason i began to question their integrity dhsjjss i hope you will understand from where my concerns come from and won’t find this ask stupid sjdjjdjd

After reading that persons answer I can immediately tell you that I basically don't agree with an overwhelming majority of what she said (even more so since a lot of it just makes her sound like a manti that hates the company and basically would want them to make music for free or something). Generally I don’t agree with most of the opinions this person holds, and also Quora really isn’t a good source for info or good opinions, most of it is written by mantis, haters, and toxic shippers with an agenda so most ARMY will tell you to stay as far away from that website as possible.

Anyway, her focus in that answer was on money, since BTS are shareholders (and how that’s a conflict of interest despite other artists doing the exact thing but no one really cares or ever thinks about it), but what she failed to consider and note was that Big Hit Music, so BTS' label, isn't part of HYBE in the sense that shareholding has no baring on it since BHM is private. So while BTS profit off of HYBE doing well, and have a small percentage of a voice as shareholders, that has nothing to do with BHM in the classical sense, even if BHM's earnings reflect well on HYBE numbers and the shareholder money.

BHM was made private to ensure their artistry would remain untouched, that was the whole point of that.

Even if they weren't HYBE shareholders, take Namjoon as example. He has more than 170 KOMCA credits, is among the top 3 Korean artists with the most credits and is also the youngest of them all. It is said that his earnings from that alone can sustain his family for 3 generations over. Look at Hobi and Chicken Noodle Soup, that song was a hit and he paid the original creator of that song 2 million dollars upfront and earned a lot back due to how successful it was. Same goes for Hope World which, again, was and is still immensely successful. Look at Yoongi and his work both as prod. SUGA, featuring artist SUGA, and as Agust D, as well as the credits he holds for his work on BTS songs (giving him as well a total of over 100 KOMCA credits, just like Hobi). Bangtan have worked and continue to work extremely hard for their music, put their heart and souls into it, and it shows even if their style changed as they grew older and more mature.

Yes, money is a major motivator, but looking at the above paragraph, do you really peg the members as these corrupt money hungry sellouts with no music related integrity? Who would need to sign major deals and would throw away their passion to just release empty shells of music for the sole reason of money? Am I naive enough to believe that they don't care about money? Of course not, we live in a capitalist society and even if BTS wouldn't care about money anymore at this point, HYBE very much does, and yet still I can't find it in me to agree with any of what was said in that answer that person wrote.

More below the cut:

And that point about how Hyundai cars were sold out because of BTS, isn't that the point why literally any company ever hires celebrities to advertise and endorse their product? And sure, again, I'm certain they earned a lot on these deals, they aren't the first or last or only ones in the history of ever to do so. Besides, look at JK and what he's done for small companies, or Tae who wore a brooch made my a small creator at the airport which catapulted that creator into the eyes of millions of ARMYs enough so that they could move to a proper studio and earn money with their work. Or the modern hanboks JK wore which led to the brand being able to move into actual stores in malls because of their sudden new popularity and demand. Or him wearing a bracelet that helps whales with a percentage of the money from the sales of said bracelet. And for all of that JK and Tae didn't earn any money at all. JK himself said that he's more conscious of the brand he wears now because he wants to help smaller businesses in these trying times, not because they pay him to do so (especially since they would never be able to afford that), but because he's aware of the influence he has and how he can use it to help others. Sound very much like a capitalistic villain, right?

As for the product placement bit, have you been on YouTube recently? Have you noticed that many, if not most, YouTube videos by “bigger” creators (and by that I mean even people who are around the 100k subscriber mark) begin with them thanking whoever sponsored that particular video and give you a scripted minute to two minute long ad before getting into the actual topic of the video? And In The SOOP featuring Chilsung Cider, FILA clothes and the random mention of how good Samsung phones are isn’t much different from it, though really, if you’re not someone interested in fashion much, would you really notice or care that they wore FILA? It’s just...clothes? If it weren’t a BTS related show, would you even notice it much? And it’s not even like they mentioned those brands every five minutes or anything, just a few times, which sure sounded a bit out of place at times, but personally I thought it was easy to look past. That’s just how things work nowadays and it’s odd for people to behave like somehow BTS are the first and only ones to use product placements despite literally every movie and show doing it in subtle and less so manners.

The answer by that person you sent also mentioned the Hyundai song for their car IONIQ and, unsurprisingly, that person wrote it off as just some commercial jingle but I’d actually disagree with that. Not to sound like a Hyundai and Samsung stan, which I am neither of, but I actually think those two knew best how to utilize the artist they have spent millions on signing a deal with. Hyundai didn’t just write them off as pretty faces with a millions strong fan army behind them and that’s it, they remembered that they are musicians so they gave them a song and made a whole music video for it as well. And say what you will, it is a good song. Then, just a few days ago, Samsung stepped up their game and we were given Over The Horizon Prod by SUGA of BTS. For those who aren’t Samsung users, Over The Horizon is their signature ringtone and basically their company sound, and over the years different artists were asked to make their own version of it. And this time they reached out to Yoongi and asked if he’d like to do it as well. It’s kind of a big deal. Sure, Butter is used in one of their commercials much the way Dynamite was last year, but that’s beside the point. Would that person make the same claim about Imagine Dragons whose song Believer is also part of the ads for the new Samsung phones? I have my doubts.

Furthermore, and I don't want this to come across as mean toward you but, I think it is uncalled for to question their artistic integrity based on a total of 3 (three) English songs when last year alone we received 50+ songs, most of which were in Korean, among them the entirety of BE which was, according to the members, the album they were most involved in ever when it comes to both music and everything around it.

You can dislike their English songs, that’s more than fine, they have a very extensive discography you can listen to instead, but questioning their integrity based on them doing something that most, if not every, artist on their level does (as in sign ad deals with brands etc) is a bit much if you ask me. Does that mean indie artists whose songs get picked up for commercials (or for Netflix shows or movies) and thus it catapults them into the mainstream are also just money hungry people with no integrity and ones who don’t care about their music? Or is that, again, just a standard Bangtan is held to (as in that their integrity is questioned based on everything, even the most trivial/normal things) that only applies to them and no one else?

In the recent Weverse Magazine article about how Permission to Dance came to be there is a lot of talk about not only that song but also Butter and Dynamite, among the things being discussed and talked about they mentioned how the original lyrics for Butter were much more materialistic but that the members didn't like that so they asked for that to be changed. Likewise the original lyrics for Permission to Dance, as you'd expect from the penmanship of Ed Sheeran, were much more romantic, almost proposal like, which wasn't what the members wanted either so it was, again, adjusted in a way that would fit what they, as well as the A&R team, wanted. While you may not like these songs, they still had a say in them to a certain degree, could say yes or no and ask for adjustments. Why else would PTD take eight months?

While they might outsource their English songs, their main focus, so their Korean (as well as Japanese) discography is still centered around them, their lyrics, their songs, their sound. Of course you’ll also find outside producers and some lyricists on those as well, because that’s how music works these days, as in collaboratively, that doesn’t change anything at large. Their integrity is still very much there, their hearts are still in it, what other reason would any of them have to say that they want to continue for a long time, for Yoongi to say they want to figure out how to make their career last as long as possible, for JK to say that he wants to sing forever?

Admin 2 also wanted me to add that in their opinion, to a certain degree (though not fully of course), their English songs are like a way to laugh at and expose how shallow the English-centric music industry is. As in, while they made music in Korean with deep and meaningful lyrics, the US industry didn’t care but once they switched to easy to listen to sound with easy to understand English lyrics, they suddenly paid attention, are played on the radio, and even received a Grammy nomination which they wouldn’t have gotten for a Korean song ( A1: regardless how much Black Swan or Spring Day really would’ve deserved it...).

#answered ask #BTS #hybe entertainment

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eric-cartmans-doublechin · 3 years

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Stan’s Gang: Driving

Starting with Stan. (Btw I am Canadian, and I have no idea how other countries work or their road rules, so If something sounds off I apologize)

I feel like he’d be the type to want to get his drivers license the day he turns 16.

He likes the independence of not having to ask anyone for rides

Until he gets his own vehicle, he drives Randy’s truck. (I get the vibe he would not be allowed to drive Sharon’s car shown in TFBW)

Stan failed his driver’s test the first time. He’s not a terrible driver, he just speeds and can’t parallel park for shit.

He doesn’t have extreme road rage, but gets annoyed at slow drivers on the road, why the fuck are they doing 50 in a 70?

Kyle

Kyle also gets his license when he turned 16, though he practiced for a couple months until he took the test.

He passed the test the first time. He’s an extremely careful driver; terrified of what Sheila would do to him if he got pulled over. Though, if anything, he drives a little too slow for someone like Stan or Kenny’s liking.

Cartman constantly begs him (and the others) for rides, Kyle basically tells him to shove it.

The road rage on this guy is astonishing. If he gets cut off, be prepared to hear every cuss word ever conceived.

Kenny

Kenny’s parents can’t afford to pay for him to take the test, so he has to save up for it himself. It takes awhile, plus the practice time; he doesn’t get his license till 18

Kenny passed his test the first time thankfully, though he has abandoned most of what he learned the minute he gets it

He’s not a terrible driver, much like Stan, but he’s much more careless. Speed limits are just suggestions. Kyle has given him hell several times for running red lights.

Kenny has been pulled over plenty of times

HOWEVER, if Kenny is giving KAREN a ride somewhere, it’s like he’s not even the same person; almost safer than Kyle

God forbid Kenny is the one to teach Karen to drive

“Karen that’s a red light you need to stop, you’ll get in an accident!!” “The stop light isnt for another 100 meters.”

Cartman

I pray for Cartman’s driving instructor every night before I go to bed

Cartman didn’t get his license until he was 19, though he’s been trying since he was 16.

He is the most reckless driver out of all the boys, and no matter what, you can’t tell him he made a mistake

“This stupid bitch is headed straight for me, MOVE ASSHOLE!” “Eric, you’re on the wrong side of the road”

Cartman didn’t care to get his license at first; he was fine with mooching rides off Stan and Kenny or having Liane drive him everywhere. That is, until Kyle got HIS license.

Mustbebetterthankyle.jpeg

Oh! You thought Kyle’s road rage was bad? Times that by 100 and add a touch of “completely unjustified” to it, and you’ve got Cartman.

99% of Cartman’s issues driving (collisions, accidents, close calls) were his fault.

Butters

Oh, Butters the sweet summer child

His parents won’t allow him to get a drivers license or else he’s grounded bc obviously they want him under their control at all times

Because of this, he doesn’t get his drivers license until his 20s

Luckily, all 4 of the boys take it upon themselves to teach Butters how it’s done

This poor child. Imagine being taught how to drive by both Cartman AND Kyle? A mess.

Butters is probably one of the most capable drivers out of all of them, whether this is due to his age or something else.

#south park #south park headcanons #headcanon #south park kenny #south park kyle #south park stan #south park cartman #south park butters #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #eric cartman #butters stotch

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bones-sprouts · 3 years

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SELF INDULGENT APOLLO JUSTICE ACE ATTORNEY AU BECAUSE IT BRINGS ME JOY ( SPOILER WARNING ⚠️‼️)

@burnoutandbookworms-ohmy you wanted to be tagged :>

okay so the cast would be as follows

apollo - tommy

phoenix - wilbur

trucy - tubbo

klavier - ranboo (this one's ambitious but hear me out-)

kristoph - dream

ema - techno

lamiroir - kristin

zak - phil (F in chat for mr minecraft 😔)

and then all of the filler characters would be various other smp members (suggestions?)

so then the plot would go as follows (we're bullet pointing this bitch you better run)

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

• so tommy arrives in the courtroom with dream, and he's nervous as hell, because not only is it his first trial

• his client is wilbur fucking soot

• world renouned defense attorney, now disbarred for forging evidence

• but tommy is 110% sure wilbur is innocent

• because wilbur is his HERO

• and then dream introduces them and damn he looks like shit

• i'm talking full pogtopia era get-up, plus a ratty beanie that has wilby painted on it and a crown pin

• so wil spouts the standard cryptic bullshit you'd expect from phoenix

• and tommy does an early smpe earth 'i am so cool and not at all starstruck' type act

• and they head in

• you meet the judge, who i didn't replace bc it's the judge

• tommy does his chords of steel, but with significantly more swearing then apollo would use

• and dream seems to be just a bit off

• and he goes on this big tirade about blue cards

• the case goes smoothly, until

• tommy feels something akin to a burning from the compass he's kept as a necklace for as long as he can remember

• and he just knows that the witness is lying

• it's like he can see the tiniest of tells that tip him off

• dream doesn't quite understand it, but wilbur looks like he knows exactly what's going on

• before he calls this out, though, a recess is called

• wilbur and dream have a chat, so tommy's left to his own devices

• and this boy about his age in a green magician's outfit runs up to him

• and he looks like an older version of the picture of wilbur's kid that he showed off in court beforehand

• and he hands tommy a (bloody??) playing card and poofs away

• then the trial resumes as normal, with tommy grilling the witness and eventually accusing her

• but it just doesn't seem right

• he knows she's not lying about being innocent, her tells would have tipped him off if she was

• but dream pushes and pushes him to formally accuse her

• until wilbur fucking soot interjects with an OBJECTION!

• while tommy geeks the hell out, wilbur asserts that there must have been someone else in the room

• and accuses dream.

• tommy's confused, and the both of them argue back and forth for a bit, until wilbur starts explaining his theory with evidence from tommy along the way

• but it's seeming like they don't have any non circumstancial evidence

• until wilbur has tommy pull out the playing card

• (i haven't been explaining the case but it makes sense i promise)

• they win the case, with dream never faltering or showing emotion, even after being taken away

• tommy's shaken up, but happy, all things considered

• but before he can ponder on what's just happened, wilbur takes him aside to talk

• and admits the card was forged

• tommy's shocked, and he's sad, and he's angry, because how could wilbur fucking soot forge evidence??

• and he punches him in the face

• wil smiles and gives him an offer to work at his office, since tommy's boss is kind of in jail

• tommy leaves

• but he comes back a few months later, only out of desperation

• he's greeted by the boy from the trial (wil's kid?)

• who demands to know his name and his 'talent'

• tommy says he's a lawyer and introduces himself

• the kid says his name is tubbo and that the building hasn't been a law office in a long time

• tommy asks to see wilbur

• so they go to see him

• in the fucking hospital

• he managed to get hit by a car, which sent him flying 40ft back into a telephone pole

• and he sprained his ankle

• he's very lucky apparently

• so from there, cases 2 and 3 play out (i'm gonna skim though these bc if i write them out ill end up rewriting plot points and i don't have the energy)

• along the way, they meet a few interesting people

• ranboo, a prosecutor who's dream's younger brother and the guitarist for a popular band, that tubbo immediately gets along with and tommy despises

• dispite seeming cocky, he's impressively awkward outside of court

• technoblade, a detective who's fairly standoffish towards tommy and tubbo alike, but has a soft spot for wilbur (do they have a history)

• kristin, a singer with a past she can't remember (unbeknownst to tommy, his compass tends to point towards her and tubbo. odd)

also before we move on to the final case, a quick summary of the dynamics and other small shit bc seritonin

• though wil adopted tubbo, they have much more of a sibling dynamic, and cause general mayhem

• wilbur does actually warm up to tommy fairly quickly (beanix and apollo dynamic, my abbhorrent) and while tommy still doesn't 100% trust wil, they do end up getting pretty close as time goes on

• tubbo and ranboo IMMEDIATELY hit it off, much to the dismay of tommy, and the two of them act like the dummy named micheal that tubbo uses for magic tricks is their son

• tommy acts like he hates ranboo's guts, but that won't stop him from trying to sweet talk his way into getting evidence from him (it always works, ranboo has no spine.) he also, like in canon, vents to ranboo whenever he needs to, and ranboo ends up knowing more ab him then even wil and tubbo

• jack is eldoon. they all go to his noodle shop constantly and tommy always complains about them being too salty. jack hates him with a passion but adores tubbo and wil

• instead of snakooos, techno deadass just has entire bags full of raw potatoes that he eats like chips, this is terrifying to everyone except wilbur, who acts like it's completely normal

• instead of pretending to be taken hostage in case 2, tubbo deadass pretends to have a nuke and threatens to set it off unless a recess is called. after things calm down they go back in and he just,, doesn't get arrested. the law is fucked

• after case 1, dream wears a smiley mask in order to not show his face, paranoid that tommy or someone else like him will know his secrets though his tells

okay now final case here we go

• wilbur tells tommy and tubbo that he's been working on a special trial with the jury system, and that he needs them to defend

• they agree, and go to meet the client

• things generally go like any other investigation, but there's just something about it that feels game changing

• and as they power though the first part of the trial, they start to uncover that there might be someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes

• tommy clocks her tell (chewing her nails) and they start to make progress

• but before they can uncover answers from her, she passes out

• a recess is called, and so are paramedics

• it turns out she's ingested the same kind of poison as the victim, coming from her nail polish

• tommy and tubbo are shaken up, and they go to wil for help

• he decides they need to know the full truth, but he knows that some of the evidence is lost at this point

(and holy shit stay with me here i promise that as out of left field this is the original game made significantly less sense)

• he phones a friend that he knows is the only one that can help them

• karl

• he explains the situation, and karl agrees to help them

• and they fucking time travel

(again, the game makes even less sense i promise)

• they chat with the victim and defendant from seven years beforehand, right after wil was disbarred

• they watch the trial wil got disbarred over, where he defended tubbo's bio father, phil

• and they see a much smaller tubbo hand wil the forged evidence, saying that a kind man told him to give it to the man with the bright blue hamilton suit

• and they watch wil present it, only to be shot down by a much younger ranboo, who proves it's fake

• and they find out tubbo and tommy are bio siblings, which they're shocked about but decide to talk about later (fuck canon tommy and tubbo get to know)

• and they go visit dream in prison

• at this point wil is CONVINCED dream is behind everything, they just need the right evidence

• so they head to the cell, only for it to be empty

• naturally, they start snooping

• wil finds a letter, and opens it to reveal exactly what they need to win the case

• but before they can leave, dream, equipped with a smiley mask, stops them

• they exchange a few words before they leave, letterless

• luckily, wil has a trick up his sleeve, and reveals that his crown pin has a built in camera

• they examine the contents of the letter, and wil hastily makes a replica, and they head off to the trial

• since they're experimenting with the jurist system for the first time, they can't afford to wait for the defendant to heal, so they proceed

• they call dream to the stand

• they grill him for quite a while, with the help of ranboo who refuses to protect his brother, getting him to show his true colors, and then pull out the letter

• and he says that it's a fake, which the judge unfortunately agrees with

• so they don't have their evidence

• and even though they've shown pretty much everything and dream had practically admitted to bring a murderous bastard and the one who gave tubbo the fake to give to wil

• they don't have enough to convince a judge

• tommy and tubbo are crushed

• but wil is happy

• because they don't have to convince a judge

• they have to convince a jury

• and they win

• dream shatters along with his mask, going completely off the deep end

• their client is safe, and so is wil

• kristin also reveals to wil that she's tommy and tubbo's bio mom, saying that she'll tell them when she's really

• so things come to a close

• for now, anyway

so yeah, thats AJ but dsmp, to anyone who didn't play the game, i'm so sorry this makes no sense, and to anyone who did, you're cool as hell can we be moots 👉👈

#i could do dd but i won't bc i hate dd #dream smp #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #tubbolive #wilbursoot #clingy duo #dreamwastaken #ph1lza #mcyt #ranboo #technoblade #sleepy bois inc #loyal duo #allium duo #bee duo #bench trio

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fabioquartararhoe · 2 years

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Hey 👋🏼 I’m sorry for the long text but I need to rant a bit. Am I the only one who’s kinda disappointed by the little amount of statements/actions from basically everyone (especially in sports)?

Today I woke up and suddenly there’s war in Europe. Something that never ever crossed my mind as a possibility. I’m 24 so I grew up with peace around me. I grew up without any real borders . And I can proudly say that in my generation myself & people around me really feel equally “European” & German (if you know what I mean). Something people of my parents generation mostly can’t understand because they still grew up with the leftovers of WW II. They grew up with a divided Germany, with the wall, closed borders, the Cold War. In school I’ve learnt so much about the cruelty of war and suddenly it’s real again.

I’ve been watching the news nonstop today. I feel shocked, I feel helpless, I feel paralysed. And I so deeply feel for the people of Ukraine. Innocent people that now have to live with the consequences of the actions of an autocrat with a twisted mind. A man that everyone either underestimated or simply couldn’t stop. There are people dying, family’s losing a loved one, people losing theirs homes. People fearing for their life every minute of this day and the coming days.

And somehow I feel like most people & organisations go on with business as usual. Only 3000km away-in the same Europe- F1 drives their cars around the circuit like “oh look at my car go vroom! Nothing wrong here!”. F1 Right now doesn’t even cancel the fucking Russian GP. Europa League is playing their little football games. Basketball played their World Cup qualifiers - even the game Russia : Netherlands took place this afternoon. The skiing organisation doesn’t wanna back off from their races in Russia as well.

I know you can’t stop the whole world because of a crisis. And I am aware that there have been wars going on the whole time and we went on with business as usual. But if not even a war in Europe - that could quite possibly soon turn into a global war - can make Europe itself stop in its tracks for a moment what can?

To me everything just seems so irrelevant with all the suffering right in front of our eyes. How can you calmly collect data to make a car faster when there’s an invasion only a few km further? What can a GP in Bahrain really mean when there’s this huge danger and suffering “next door”.

And maybe I’m being stupid or oversensitive right now but I just wished more people would have shown/would show what really is important. You know? Putting some priorities straight. At least openly acknowledging that right now there’s more important things.

i’m not disappointed bcs i knew that people/organizations will be silent at first and then everyone will post bcs it will be a new trend with a hashtag 🤷🏻‍♀️

as an eastern european born in the late 90s it wasn’t always peace here and i don’t feel equally european. romania joined eu in 2007 but i never felt european and i’m sure most of the people from eastern europe agree with me. I expected something bad to happen in ukraine after the annexation of crimea in 2014 by russia, this stupid war isn’t something new…

i agree with you, but you can’t just stop. the world economy is already in trenches, we can’t afford a war and when i say we i’m referring to the people who live paycheck to paycheck, who don’t have the money to pay for gas/electricity.

the sports events in russia will probably be canceled in the incoming weeks, but that’s it. f1 won’t cancel bahrain bcs they will lose money, these organizations care more about money anyway

you aren’t stupid or oversensitive. more western countries should help ukraine, but they always do this. like how many refugees do you think romania, poland or slovakia can afford when we are also struggling. you can’t just take them in your country and leave them to starve or in the cold, you know and if putin attacks one of these countries ww3 will start bcs of the nato article 5…a lot of people don’t realize how serious this thing is unfortunately

#how my answer make sense bcs it’s 9am and i don’t feel like reading this again lol #meli talks shit #i hope* not how

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newhologram · 3 years

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I've been doing some thinking and realizing just how far back this all goes. Those of you who know me and my family IRL may have a hard time believing the emotional abuse and gaslighting because whenever you've met them, they seemed fine. They may have even bragged about me to you which made you think that they thought very highly of me. They also may have neglected to inform you that I have been disabled by chronic illness the past 10 years (many of my other family members had no idea until they spoke to me personally. It's... really fucking weird? To just not tell anyone that your offspring is in bed all day in horrible pain and constantly at the doctor/ER?). Unfortunately this is also part of the gaslighting, putting on a persona of parental perfection so that no one believes me when I try to talk about it. Instead people, even within my family, make excuses for the abuse and say that I should just be grateful. Behind closed doors it's always been very different. In the event that me processing this in private spaces gets out to them (which WILL endanger me): This isn't about *~exposing~* or *~revenge~* or *~punishment~*, it's about putting the pieces together and saying, yeah, I'm right to finally put my foot down about the way I have been treated. This is my experience. This is my trauma. I'm finally claiming that after a lifetime of being told that these experiences and my pain around them are apparently "not real" (gaslighting). By talking about this, I am not victimizing myself, but empowering myself. Because none of this treatment was ever my fault. None of it was ever deserved. And none of this is to be blamed on my "response" to abuse. I hope that by talking about this I can paint a picture of the dynamic and inspire investigation into the health of your own family dynamics too. "But they're family" is literally what enables this kind of abuse to continue. And I'm done. My health and survival is more important than upholding a toxic family system. They're learning that the hard way, finally. I don't think my family members are bad people. I truly do love and care for them. They have some amazing qualities. They love animals and they've come a long way to now being LGBTQ+ allies even if they don't always use the right words. But they have a lot of flaws that most likely come from their own trauma... But these aren't just self-contained flaws. Because I am the one who will be undoing the damage for the rest of my life. I don't know if they will ever go to therapy themselves, but I certainly won't be waiting around for them to work on themselves if it means I'm going to continue to be mistreated and re-traumatized. - It's always been this way but things definitely got worse in my home when I became disabled (possibly bc it triggered insecurities in them?). Both parents ignored me to my face all my life. I'd say or ask something, and there'd be no response most of the time. If I said, "hey, I'm talking to you, that's rude" they would blow up at me about "WHAT. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY. I HAVE THINGS ON MY MIND OKAY I HAVE MY OWN LIFE". This happened even when I was a literal child. I grew up believing that nothing I had to say was worth hearing and that if they ignored me that it was because I was unimportant and annoying. But if I ignore them or take too long to respond because I'm thinking, they scold me me about being rude, that they are my parents and I need to respect them. My emotions and pain have been invalidated since I was a child too. I would get picked up from afterschool care, or my bully's house, and of course I'd be crying from enduring a day of bullying. I would say, "I didn't do anything to them, it's not fair." And my dad's response was always, "WELL GUESS WHAT LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE AN ADULT IN THE REAL WORLD." He has continued to say this to me on a regular basis whenever I am struggling, either with work, friends, relationships, a death, or my chronic illnesses. I wonder why he has never considered my world to be real? Why is my reality not real to him? What

makes that even more painful is that I was still sent day after day to the school where I was bullied, to afterschool care with my bullies, and to my bullies' homes. No matter how much I was always crying when they picked me up, they just kept sending me back. And then a few of my dad's girlfriend's had children who bullied me too. I literally could never escape it. If it wasn't that, his response to me crying about something would be, "YOU HAVE NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT. YOU'RE LIVING THE LIFE OF LUXURY HERE, YOU DON'T PAY RENT! JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE OUT THERE HAVING REAL PROBLEMS!" Again, he said this to me when I was a 24 year old who was suddenly in the span of a year so disabled that I could barely work. I was scared for my future, because I had taken the time to educate myself about my illnesses, and I knew that things were going to be hard for me. What I needed was support, not "tough love" and emotional invalidation. I was also scared of the situation I am in now. I was scared that I was going to be too sick to afford to move out and that by age 30 I would still be stuck at home with a parent who did not see my reality, my pain, as real. I am living that and it's not fun. Whenever I tried to talk to him about this invalidation, it just turned into a fight, because he refuses to admit the things that he said, and says things like "That's a You Problem" which he has said since I was a child in response to him hurting my feelings. I have always thought it was worth the effort to communicate to my loved ones this sort of issue, because that's what I was taught at school. If there's an issue, you talk about it. But my family doesn't believe that I guess. - When I first got sick, I was throwing up a lot. It had built up over several years since I was 19 but then after I was officially diagnosed with my Big 4 (colitis/fibro/ME/narcolepsy) I started having really dangerous vomiting attacks. The first attack I had lasted 6 days. I lost 12lbs. I overheard my dad complaining on the phone to a friend that I was keeping him up all night throwing up. I felt so bad for bothering him, I had learned to value his comfort over mine. But after the third day of nonstop vomiting, I told my dad I needed to go to the ER, that something was wrong. He sighed and rolled his eyes and said I didn't need to go. He was so annoyed with me for being sick. I was completely pale. I hadn't eaten anything. I could barely keep water down. I argued but he wouldn't listen. I went back to throwing up, at this point just dry-heaving. A while later I said, "I'm taking myself to the ER." I grabbed my car keys and my dad stopped me. He said, "That's ridiculous, you aren't driving yourself to the ER, I'll do it." But he still wouldn't take me for some reason. I don't know if he just didn't want to pay the copay or what. But I was literally trapped. I tried to fight it and said, "If you're going to take me, then take me. If not, let me take myself." I kept throwing up for three more days before he finally agreed to take me. The ER was packed so I ended up going to urgent care, where the nurse scolded me. She said I really should've gone to the ER after the third day of vomiting. She said that if I had gone a 7th day I could have collapsed. I didn't know how to tell her that I had tried. She asked where my family was and I said my dad had to go to work so he had just dropped me off. She had tears in her eyes and she held my hand. She said, "he should be here with you." THAT is how sick I was. That year, I went to the ER three more times. Each time I would be sobbing and ashamed of myself just for bothering my dad and for him having to pay the copay since I was too sick to earn the money myself. Again, that's how little I had learned to value myself and my health. By my birthday that year, I was suicidal from this shame. A few months later, in the new year, I started having vomiting attacks again. My dad stood over me while I was hunched over the toilet gagging and he said something I will never be able to forget, "You need to snap out of it

because I can't go through this again." He was the victim of my illness. He was the victim of my pain. This year was when my dad told me that he and his gf had been "talking" and that they had decided it was "time for me to be independent". He said they'd even help me find an apartment. I cried and said, "Dad, I'm sick. I've been so sick the past year. How am I supposed to afford even splitting rent with a roommate when I'm in bed in a neckbrace all day long?" and his response was, "But your dad needs his bachelor pad." I couldn't even identify what I was feeling. I was so shocked. Did he really think having the apartment to himself so he could have girls over was more important? But he was always telling me that I was the most important person in his life. I was so confused.

He gave me a time frame to move out and I was terrified. I thought my life was over. But most of all, I thought, "it's not fair to my dad that I'm sick." I thought so little of myself and my pain because that is what I learned as a kid. I blamed myself for not being "strong enough" to power through these debilitating illnesses. I blamed myself for my dad's money troubles. I literally could not live with myself knowing that my dad had to support me. I was so ashamed that I learned to vomit quietly so that he wouldn't notice. I was in a constant state of suicidality for several years after this. And it's no wonder, because year after year my dad has barged into my room to harass me about "it's time to be a Real Adult! It's time for you to Contribute to the household! You need to Make Money! I'm HEMORRHAGING money supporting you! I'm having to use my savings!" and because I was too sick to do this, I felt like a complete failure who did not deserve to live. I was self-harming constantly because I hated myself for "doing this" to my father. He had convinced me that I was the villain. I would start freaking out about money, forcing myself to work even if it meant vomiting literally on set (and almost being sent home bc of it, but I insisted I was fine to work). But I still couldn't make enough to afford my medical expenses. So I would shame-spiral and be suicidal again and then suddenly the story would change. My dad did a complete 180 and said, "Why are you even worried about money? We're doing fine. Even if I didn't have to support you, it wouldn't make that big of a difference in the money that I spend on this household. Don't worry about it." And then as soon as bills were due, he was back to telling me that I needed to make money. Back to saying we spent too much money on food despite me not eating that much. Back to refusing to try shopping somewhere cheaper when I suggested ways to save money. When I brought this up to my therapist back then, she said, "He's giving you mixed messages. Maybe you should bring this up to him so he realizes he's doing it." But when I did bring it up, of course my dad denied doing this and called me ungrateful even as I worked two jobs. When I eventually got a third job (fucking up my health more) to pay off my medical debt, my dad patted my back and told me how proud he was. When I told my therapist that he denied it, she suggested I bring him in so she could help us communicate. When I asked him to come with me to therapy, he got angry and said, "I am NOT going to therapy with you, that is ridiculous." But even with those 3 jobs it still wasn't enough and I was constantly being pulled between "YOU HAVE TO MAKE MONEY RIGHT NOW END OF THE WORLD" and "uhh why are you even worried about money, you need to work your mindset..." When bugged about money I would ask, "What else do you want me to do? I'm working 3 jobs. I'm not hiding money from you. I'm sending you everything that is leftover after I pay my own bills. I've even been buying a lot of my own food, I've been living off ramen and cans of ravioli." And he never had an answer except "just make more money." -- Now to the dynamic I'm currently living in. My dad moved his gf and her dog in without talking to me about it to see if it was going to impact my health. She was only supposed to stay here for maybe 4-5 days while she figured out a new home situation. But when I asked my dad about it in the days leading up to her arrival, suddenly the answer was "oh, she's staying indefinitely." I had no say in it. But we had a talk about what I needed to make this work. I said to my dad that the most important thing was that I have some scheduled quiet time. If I'm recording content or editing audio, I'm going to need quiet that morning so I can get my work done. If I'm resting, I need there to not be shouting or slamming doors happening in the house. He assured me that this was fine and that it'd all be easy for the three of us. The first weekend she was moved in, I let my dad know that I was editing audio that morning and needed

some quiet. He was cheerful and said, "No problem!" I thought wow, this is different. This is nice! This is going to be great for my productivity and health. As soon as I started editing, his gf was blasting music in the kitchen (right next to my room) and they were both laughing and talking loudly just a few steps away from my door. I thought, okay, we talked about this. But I'll just power through. When I was done, I went to my dad and said in a calm manner, "Hey, so this morning I let you know ahead of time that I was editing audio but there was still a ton of music and stuff in the kitchen, so it made it take a lot longer for me." His eyes immediately went dark. He put on an angry parent voice and said, "Okay, I am about to pop. I have enough going on without worrying about making too much noise for you." I said, calmly still, "We talked about this, though, and you assured me it wasn't a problem that I needed this quiet time for editing. So I'm not sure what to do. I'm just letting you know that there was still loud music right next to my room even though we had talked about it." He responded, "Then you need to be more specific because I don't know what you're doing in there." I corrected, "But I told you this morning that I was going to be editing audio and you said it was no problem to have some quiet in the kitchen while I did so." He got more aggressive, "No, you need to be more specific." Again, "I was specific. I told you the time frame that I was going to be editing audio in. You said you understood. I don't know what else to do to fix this other than by openly communicating to you about it." I started crying because--I mean, uhh?? This is gaslighting. I couldn't believe that mere hours after I had specifically told my dad that I was editing audio and that he had assured me it was no problem to have some quiet, that he was accusing me of not telling him what I needed, and that he had not agreed to it or something. Like wtf. He got nastier and blamed me for his stress. But me crying triggered his guilt so he tried to soothe himself by hugging me like he does and I pulled away. I tried to emphasize to him that I'm not just making content for fun. I'm literally trying to make money and contribute to the household like he has told me I need to do for the past 8 years. And when he disrupts my editing process, it just makes it take longer, and it makes it harder for me to earn extra money. His gf was also super rude to me when I tried to be friendly and have a conversation with her. I was telling her about how great it felt to have my sister initiate a conversation about my gender identity and she interrupted me (like she does constantly) to say, "YOU KNOW YOUR SISTER DOESN'T ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT, RIGHT?" (wtf...) After this, I didn't speak to them for three days. I was feeling the urge to self-harm that whole weekend and all I could do was stay in bed crying after that. I knew if I spoke to them I would just get triggered so I was protecting myself. My dad felt guilty and tried to talk to me in my room. I tried to explain how triggering this whole situation is for me and he said he would do anything to make it easier for me. I had told him what I needed but that he had gaslighted me about it. - This next and last part is going to illustrate the priorities in this household. A few years ago, I started having problems with hives. I spent almost a whole year having very painful breakouts all over my body. It kept me up all night and caused me so much discomfort during the day. I kept telling my dad about it (no response, or annoyed responses), I went to the doctor several times about it (useless ointments), and suffered month after month. I tried so many things, I thought maybe it was bugs, spiders, etc. My asthma was also acting up and I remembered that an ex-neighbor had been suspicious of mold because of their health issues getting better the second they moved out. They had told me back then that we should test for mold. I brought it up to my dad that I had been suffering from this for

long enough and that we should do something about it (mold also makes fibromyalgia and ME way worse). He angrily snapped, "What do you want me to do about it?" I suggested we ask the landlord to mold test the apartment. He refused bc he doesn't like to bother the landlord. I said that I would just order a mold kit myself and he said, "No, let me do it, I'll pick the right one." But he wouldn't even after I kept reminding him. Even after I sent him links to mold kits that we could order. After I got rid of my mattress, my hives got a lot better but I still have issues every now and then. For years I have just lived with this because I couldn't get him to even care about the fact that I was spotted with these big pink hives. When his gf moved in, we had a random rainy day, which seems to have activated the mold. His gf got one tiny little hive and the sniffles. She said to him once, "Hey, I think you have mold in this house." Want to guess what happened after that? You're right. He immediately ordered several mold test kits. I said to my therapist, "How am I supposed to feel about that? Is it really unreasonable, am I really in the wrong to feel hurt by that?" My therapist said, "I mean, I would feel completely invalidated and like I didn't matter." This isn't the first time empathy has been withheld from me obviously (above examples during my flare ups), but sometimes even when it's right in front of him he just can't bring himself to care for some reason. One time a big piece of glass was in my thumb. I said, "Ahhh, glass, help! Glass!" He was eating snacks in the kitchen and just glanced at me, didn't move or say anything. I realized he wasn't going to help, so shaking and bleeding, I managed to pull the glass out with tweezers very painfully. It bled so much and I stood over the sink trying to stop it. My dad just kept eating his snacks, not asking if I was okay or anything, he didn't even look at me. After 5 minutes I still couldn't get the blood to stop and asked my dad if he could help, maybe get me some gauze. He put food in his mouth and sighed, "Just put pressure on it" and walked away. It feels like he's just disgusted with me. I know that he does love me and that he's trying the best he can with all of his mental/emotional/personality flaws but he thinks that just because he puts a roof over my head that he can treat me however he wants and not work on his issues, that it's my fault for being hurt. He thinks that his issues are all on me to learn to endure and it's not right. I know that he resents me for getting in the way of him having a relationship because that's the only message I have gotten since childhood, with every woman he's brought into my home. But in the end his relationships always fall apart because the woman ends up realizing, and stating to him, that he is "emotionally absent". And every time, I comfort my dad through the break up. When he has tried to blame his ex I said once to him that therapy can really help him with his emotional issues and relationships. But he refuses, so. That's on him. But I refuse to believe that I am in the wrong here for saying enough is enough. But he's going to keep trying to make me believe that the problem is just me and my feelings, not his behavior. Nope. Boundary is up. I just have to keep to myself and do what I need to do to stay safe until I can move out. Because I guarantee you he's going to realize he doesn't get enough validation from his gf and then come running back to me as always and then be angry that I'm still holding my boundary strong. I know that this will hurt less as I get distance from it, but I don't like the idea of my pain being my fault when I grew up with this toxic stuff. I'm working so hard to make it hurt less but I can't heal if it keeps happening, so all I can do is back away from what is hurting me instead of being surprised when I'm hurt again. THAT is on me 100%. Hopefully he doesn't grab my desk and slam it against the wall again like in 2014 when I first tried to set this boundary. And of course when he

"apologized" he accused me of "punishing him" by not spending time with him. Jee-zus, dude. Get therapy. I can't be the only one in this family bearing this weight and working on my shit.

#teku #personal #do nut re bagel

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