#wonwoo scenario

[shuuuniee]

── .✦ My Boyfriend Is Retweeting My Down Bad Era — Jeon Wonwoo SMAU Oneshot

«m.list»

Pairing : Idol!Jeon Wonwoo x Reader. Genres : SMAU, Established Relationship, Comedy Warnings : Downbad Reader.

ᯓ★ Synopsis : Dating Wonwoo was always Y/N’s dream—crushing on him for years. And letting him into their old Twitter account..filled with unhinged tweets about him was a nightmare.

Note : Made this for Wonwoo’s Birthday (07/17)!! Happy Birthday, Wonwoo!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

© shuuuniee 2025 — Do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work on other platforms, please and thank you.

[scarletwinterxx]

black and white and golden - jeon wonwoo imagine

happy birthday to my lucky charm, the man who taught me to forgive the world, my jeon wonwoo. i hope you find all the happiness in this universe🤍

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The third time they pair you with Jeon Wonwoo, you consider quitting. Or at least pretending to be sick. You even open your notes app and half-type an excuse.

But when you see your editor’s email — You two make magic. Don’t fight it — you swear under your breath and toss your phone aside.

Jeon Wonwoo. Photographer. Zero small talk. One hundred percent pretentious. The man breathes in ISO and exhales shadows. Meanwhile, you're the girl who writes copy with color theory in mind, who believes every word should pop like a burst of sunlight.

He’s monochrome. You’re confetti. And somehow, it works.

You’ve done four campaigns together now. And every time, it starts the same: with passive-aggressive jabs in the pre-prod meeting and ends with a late-night moment in post where the both of you look at the final output — breathless, reluctant, electric.

Still, you groan out loud when he walks into the conference room. Tall, lean, dressed in black from head to toe, camera slung across his chest like a warning sign. He doesn’t say a word.

You look away, focus on the mood board you brought. Pastels. Messy hair. Laughing models. 

He glances at it and deadpans, “Too much movement.”

You roll your eyes. “Too much gloom gives people seasonal depression.”

He doesn’t flinch. Of course he doesn’t. But his dark eyes stay on you a second too long.

Then he says, coolly, “You like working with me.”

You bark a laugh. “I don’t.”

“Then why do you keep staring when you think I’m not looking?”

Your spine stiffens.

He takes a slow step closer, his voice dropping low, just for you. “I know I drive you crazy. I just haven’t figured out if it’s the good kind yet.”

Your heart kicks.

He’s too close. Not touching you, not really but the air shifts. The kind of shift you feel when the lights dim in a gallery and you realize you’re alone. Watched. Trapped in someone’s frame.

“I stare,” you say, voice sharper than you mean it, “because I’m trying to figure out how someone can be so annoying and artistically talented.”

He smirks. That maddening, barely-there twitch of his lips.

But before he can reply, your editor walks in. Meeting starts. Notes get passed around.

Still, all through the briefing, you can feel it — his eyes on you. Not just looking. Studying. Composing. Framing.

And when you turn a page in your notebook, you find a post-it that wasn’t there before.

Let’s make something beautiful again. This time, don’t fight me so much. —JWW

You blink. Glance up.

He’s already looking somewhere else, like he didn’t just slip you a note that sounds more like a threat than a request.

But when the campaign starts and he’s adjusting a model’s pose with fingers too firm, or when he tugs the lighting rig just a little closer to your side of the set, you start to wonder:

Is it the good kind of crazy?

Or is it the kind where he’s been collecting snapshots of you this whole time just waiting for you to notice?

=

Shoot day starts too early, as always. You arrive with a barely-touched coffee and your tote stuffed with scribbled notes, mockups, and emergency lipstick. 

The set’s already buzzing. Assistants adjusting lights, the stylist fussing over hangers, and makeup artists corralling models. And then there’s him.

Jeon Wonwoo, behind the camera, sleeves pushed up, silent and sharp-eyed like he’s already in some creative trance.

You don’t greet each other. You never do.

Instead, you walk past him and say, “Try not to suck the color out of this one.”

He doesn’t look up. “Try not to write another tagline that sounds like a horoscope.”

You snort, but you’re smiling as you walk away.

The first few hours are smooth. Too smooth. You jot notes, direct a few expressions, argue mildly over angles but it’s all routine. Familiar. Comfortable in a way that shouldn’t be. Especially not with him.

At one point, you hold a reflector steady because one of the interns bailed. He pauses mid-shot, glancing at your hand.

“You know,” he says casually, “you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

You glance up. “Neither do you. But here you are micromanaging every shadow.”

He lifts the camera. “Because not everyone sees things the way I do.”

There’s a beat.

Then he adds, voice lower, “But you get close.”

The shutter clicks. You look away first.

Later, you’re off to the side with one of the male models, a golden-retriever type who keeps finding excuses to hover near your clipboard. You laugh at something he says not because it’s particularly funny, but because it’s nice. Easy. Safe.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even loo but the next time he calls for lighting adjustment, his tone is clipped. Short. Sharp.

“Backlight’s wrong. We’re redoing this set. Everyone reset.”

The model groans good-naturedly. “Again? You’re ruthless, man.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Just lifts the camera, jaw tense. You watch him a moment too long.

After the next break, you’re reviewing a few test shots on his monitor. You lean in, about to make a comment, when his voice stops you.

“Do you like him?”

You blink. “Who?”

“The model.”

You glance up. He’s not looking at you. He’s reviewing photos like this is the most casual conversation in the world.

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. “He’s nice.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

There’s a silence between you, stretched tight.

Then he turns to you. “He’s not your type.”

“Oh? And what is my type?”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink. Just looks at you like he already knows the answer.

“I think,” he says quietly, “you like being challenged. You like sharp edges. You like the kind of person who notices when you skip breakfast and leaves granola bars in your bag.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

He leans in, barely an inch, voice barely audible over the hum of set noise.

“I think you like me.”

You stare at him.

“And I think,” he murmurs, “he should stop talking to you.”

Just then, someone calls your name, breaking the moment. You step back, breath uneven, pretending not to see the way his gaze follows you the rest of the day like a loaded lens.

The shoot wraps late and people start packing up with tired smiles and half-finished drinks. You’re standing near the monitors, still mid-laugh with the editors, going over selects and teasing one of the assistants about their playlist.

Wonwoo walks past, camera bag slung over his shoulder, cool and unreadable as always. He doesn’t say a word but he doesn’t leave either.

You notice it how he slows near your things, pauses, then just… picks them up. Your tote, your extra charger, even your water bottle. Like it’s second nature. Like he’s done it a hundred times before.

You blink. “Hey—what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps walking.

You hurry after him. “Jeon! What is your deal?”

The studio door swings shut behind you, warm dusk brushing your skin. He’s a few steps ahead, heading to the lot. Doesn’t even look back.

Then a voice calls out behind you. “Hey! Wait—wait, hold on!”

It’s the model from earlier, jogging over, shirt half-untucked, charming smile in place.

Wonwoo slows. You don’t.

The model catches up beside you, hands stuffed in his back pockets. “You heading out now? I was gonna ask, do you maybe wanna grab something to eat? I know this little place near here. Super chill, no pressure or anything.”

You open your mouth, polite and caught off guard.

Then he adds, grin widening, “Can I get your number?”

You feel Wonwoo stop completely. There’s a flicker in the air like a wire being pulled too tight.

Before you can say anything, you hear the click of a car door unlocking. Then Wonwoo moves, fast and wordless. He walks over, swings open the passenger door of his car with a thud, and looks at you like it’s not a question.

Like it never was. 

You stare at him. Then glance back at the model, who’s suddenly a lot less confident.

“Uh—sorry, are you two…?”

“She’s leaving,” Wonwoo says, voice low but final.

Then to you: “Get in.”

You freeze, torn between bristling and… something else. Something that pools in your chest at the way he doesn’t even look at the guy anymore.

Just you.

With a beat of hesitation—and maybe, curiosity—you slide into the seat.

Wonwoo shuts the door behind you. Not hard. But firm. Like punctuation. By the time he’s in the driver’s seat, engine purring, you’re still watching him.

“You didn’t let me answer,” you mutter.

“I didn’t need to.”

Then, quieter, he adds, “I don’t like sharing.”

You don’t say anything but you don’t ask to get out either.

The engine hums beneath you, low and steady, but the tension in the car is anything but. You glance over, crossing your arms.

“So,” you say, voice cool, “let me ask again.”

He doesn’t look at you.

You lean a little closer. “What’s your deal, Jeon?”

A pause. The city noise fades behind closed windows.

“I carry your stuff, I sit through your edits, I let you drag my lighting setups to hell and back—”

“You don’t let me—”

He cuts you a glance. Sharp “—and then I see you giggling with some guy who doesn’t know a softbox from a sunbeam, and suddenly I’m supposed to just stand there?”

You blink. “He was being nice.”

Wonwoo pulls the car to a red light. Turns to you fully.

“There’s a difference between being nice and thinking he can touch something that’s not his.”

The words drop between you like a match in dry grass.

You stare. “I’m not… yours.”

He doesn’t blink. “No. Not yet.”

You fumble, voice uneven. “You—you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s insane?”

He scoffs, low under his breath. “You think I’m the crazy one? I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Damn him.

“I’m not an idiot,” he murmurs. “You like the push and pull. You like when I argue with you. You like that I see you.”

He turns again, a quiet street now, almost too quiet.

“I know what this is. You just don’t want to admit it first.”

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. You look out the window, then back at him, and for a second, everything is suspended. Caught in headlights and breath.

“I don’t like you,” you lie.

His lips twitch. “Sure.”

You glare. “I don’t.”

“Then why are you still in my car?”

You scowl, shifting in your seat to face him more directly. “Oh, so what? You want me to jump out? Tuck and roll while you’re at a red light?”

Wonwoo shrugs, one hand still lazily on the wheel. “If you think your dramatic exit would prove a point, I won’t stop you.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You say that a lot.”

“That’s because you are.” You throw your hands up. “You act like you’re doing me a favor by being overbearing.”

“I carried your bag.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“I opened a door. You got in. That’s not kidnapping, that’s cooperation.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “God, how does anyone work with you?”

“Only one person keeps getting assigned to me,” he says flatly

You shoot him a glare. He smiles then. Barely. That infuriating ghost of a smirk that always makes your stomach tighten in the most inconvenient ways.

“Face it,” he murmurs, “you’d hate working with anyone else.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “You’re arrogant.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“You’re controlling.”

“You’re nosy.”

You exhale sharply. “You’re obsessed.”

He looks at you. No denial. Just a tilt of the head, like he’s considering it.

Then he says, calm and quiet, “Maybe.”

You falter.

“Is that what you want to hear?” he continues. “That I notice everything? That I know how many sugar packets you steal from catering. That you hum when you’re writing. That you bite your lip when you’re holding back a smartass comment—usually aimed at me.”

Your throat feels dry.

He slows the car in front of your building. Throws it in park. Doesn’t look at you when he says, “I notice everything.”

Then, voice softer, almost teasing: “If you notice everything, then you should know I don’t give my number out that easily.”

Wonwoo finally turns, gaze locked on yours. “I wasn’t going to let you give it to him at all.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t have known what to do with you.”

Silence again. The air between you is thick and crackling.

=

The next day is nonstop chaos.

Back-to-back meetings. Mood boards, budget revisions, brand notes that make you want to walk into traffic. You barely have time to breathe, let alone think about him.

You last overheard that Wonwoo was off on location today. Shooting some high-profile ad with another team across town. So you tell yourself you’re safe. No camera flashes. No quiet glances. No unsolicited car rides and infuriatingly perceptive commentary.

By the time your last meeting ends, your brain is mush and the office is half-deserted.

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and the sky outside has already dipped into that inky, late-evening blue. You tug your cardigan tighter around you, hug your folder to your chest, and start your slow walk toward the elevators.

You pass by the creative department on instinct, taking the long way out.

Most of the desks are empty now. Monitors dark, chairs askew, headphones abandoned. But at the far end of the open floor, where the studio heads have their corners, one light is still on.

Wonwoo’s space.

Spacious, minimalist, and annoyingly clean. Except for the piles of printed test shots currently spread across his desk.

He’s there, seated, hunched over his monitor. Serious. Focused. Hair slightly tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it. And he’s wearing glasses.

You pause mid-step.

You don’t mean to watch him. You’re just… taking in the scene. That’s all.

But then he tilts his head, squints at the screen, and mutters something under his breath before reaching for a pen to jot something down on a nearby notepad.

You take another step before your voice betrays you.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to pull late nights.”

His head lifts immediately, eyes flicking up to meet yours. Sharper, even behind the glasses.

You try not to fidget under the weight of his stare.

Wonwoo leans back slightly in his chair. “Didn’t peg you as the type to snoop.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” you say, walking a little closer despite yourself. “Just passing by.”

“Convenient.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to smile. “You always this charming after hours?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you quietly for a beat too long.

“Only when the company’s tolerable.”

You ignore the way your stomach flips.

He gestures vaguely to the photos spread out in front of him. “Client wants new mood adjustments. They can’t decide if they want moody or romantic.”

“Can’t they be both?”

He glances up at you again. “Exactly what I said.”

You lean in a little, scanning the images. portraits in soft light, blurred movement, aching stares between models. And for a second, it’s just the two of you, surrounded by stillness and the faint buzz of the desk lamp.

“You should go home,” he says quietly, breaking the silence

“I should,” you echo, but you don’t move

He doesn’t push. Just watches you, the corner of his mouth barely curved. Like he knows.

Then, with the same maddening calm “Still think I’m obsessed?”

You give him a look.

“I mean, you’re literally here in the dark with romantic portraits and mood lighting,” you say, deadpan. “You’re like a noir character who listens to sad jazz and pines dramatically.”

“I don’t listen to jazz.”

“So you do pine?”

That actually makes him smile, just slightly.

You blink. “Was that—did you just smile?”

He exhales, long-suffering. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“No,” you say sweetly. “But you keep listening.”

He leans back again, gaze slow and deliberate. “I told you. I notice everything.”

You should go. You should absolutely turn around and leave.

But instead, you ask, “Got room for one more opinion?”

Wonwoo raises a brow, then pushes one of the photo sets toward you, wordlessly. He raises a brow, eyes tracking your every move like he’s trying to figure you out. Again.

And you should’ve just stood next to him. You should’ve.

But instead—

You move.

You don’t know what possesses you. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like he expects something, like he already knows you’re going to do it.

Maybe it’s how warm the room suddenly feels, or how your pulse is thudding in your ears louder than it should.

Either way, the next second, you’re putting your folder down on the edge of his desk carefully, and sliding onto his lap.

His body goes still beneath you.

You barely give yourself time to process it. Just lean forward, grab the mouse from his hand like you’ve done it a thousand times before, and start dragging one of the photos across the screen.

“Your layout’s messy,” you murmur, keeping your eyes on the monitor. “You’re blending contrast-heavy shots with soft light sets. That’s why the mood doesn’t stick.”

He doesn’t say a word.

His hands stay resting on the armrests of his chair, fingers twitching like he’s holding himself back. His chest rises against your back in slow, measured breaths.

“You’re insane,” he finally says, voice low

“And yet,” you say, still scrolling, “you’re letting me do this.”

“You think I won’t move you?”

“Then do it.”

Silence.

Then you feel it. His hand ghosting up to your waist, not gripping, just hovering, like he’s waiting for something. Waiting for you to bolt. Waiting for you to tell him to stop.

You don’t.

Instead, you nudge the brightness on one image down a few notches. “That one’s better. Warmer. More intentional.”

“Intentional,” he echoes, voice rougher now. “You know you’re playing with fire, right?”

You turn your head just slightly, enough to see him from the corner of your eye.

“Am I?”

His jaw flexes. You’re close enough now to see the faint crease in his brow, the sharp line of his cheekbone beneath the glasses. His eyes are darker than usual, trained fully on you.

“You climbed into my lap,” he says simply.

“I’m multitasking,” you reply.

He huffs a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “You’re driving me insane.”

“You started it.”

And yet… neither of you move. Not away.

Not at all.

You linger there for another beat, feeling the weight of his stare, the way his hand still hasn’t touched you but it could. So easily. You can feel the tension crackling like a live wire.

Then you shift. You slide off his lap, smooth your skirt like nothing happened, and pick up your folder from the desk.

Back to business.

“Don’t stay too late,” you say casually, voice light but not quite steady. “We have a morning huddle tomorrow.”

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Doesn’t answer right away.

You glance at him still seated, gaze pinned to you like you’ve just stolen something and he’s letting you run with it. For now.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink. Just watches.

You turn toward the door.

And as you’re walking away, you hear his voice—quiet, but certain.

“You’re going to drive me crazy next.”

=

The next morning, the office is cold and bright in that awful, too-early kind of way. You’re running on four hours of sleep and one too many thoughts you didn’t ask for. You kept replaying last night in your head—what you did, what he didn’t stop, what he said.

You walk into the creative floor with your coffee gripped like a lifeline and a deliberately neutral expression.

Sooyoung eyes you the second you step into the meeting room.

“Why do you look like you haven’t slept and are also hiding a crime?”

You sit down and take a long, long sip. “Because I haven’t slept and I might be hiding something criminal.”

Before she can grill you, the conference room door opens.

Wonwoo walks in.

Dressed in black again. Hair slightly damp like he just got out of the shower. Camera strap slung over his shoulder. Glasses gone.

Your stomach flips. Sooyoung sees it. Her eyebrows fly up.

You nearly choke on your coffee.

The team lead starts the huddle, launching into project updates and timelines. You try to focus. Really. But it’s hard when Wonwoo sits directly across from you and doesn’t look at you once not really except…

Except he doesn’t need to. You feel him. Every time you speak. Every time you nod. Every time you flip a page in your notes.

The meeting continues. You swear you don’t breathe for ten minutes straight.

You should’ve known.

You should’ve known the moment you saw your name on the concept pitch team. You were already half-dreading the next round of campaign prep—but when you saw his name listed right below yours, your soul flatlined.

Creative Concept Leads: • (Your Name) • Jeon Wonwoo

You wanted to throw your tablet across the room.

Sooyoung just gave you a smug look and whispered, “The universe ships it.”

Now here you are—jammed in his car, en route to the client’s location for an ocular visit. The marketing head insisted someone from visuals and copy come together to “absorb the space creatively.” You tried to volunteer Sooyoung. You even tried to fake a cough.

The ocular goes smoother than expected.

You spend the better part of an hour with the client walking through the space, nodding thoughtfully, jotting down notes. There’s a lot of talk about “clean aesthetics” and “youthful energy” and “natural light flow.”

You walk up beside him. “Get anything usable?”

He nods. “Lighting’s better than expected. Colors need adjusting.”

You pause, watching him scroll through thumbnails. “You know, for someone who claims I talk too much, you really don’t complain when I’m around.”

He clicks through a few more images. “That’s because you’re distracting in the right ways.”

You blink, caught off guard for half a second. “That’s… either a compliment or a line.”

He finally looks up at you, one brow raised. “Why can’t it be both?”

You roll your eyes, turning toward the car, trying not to smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m sunburned.”

“I saw you put sunscreen on in the car.”

You whirl back around. “You were watching me?”

“I always watch you.”

That shuts you up for a second.

He closes the camera screen and pushes off the car, walking around to the driver’s side like it’s no big deal. “What are you doing Friday night?”

You blink. “Uh… nothing?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Great.”

He opens the door, slides in, and looks at you through the open window.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You stare at him.

He raises an eyebrow. “You gonna argue?”

You grip your folder a little tighter. “Only if you show up with mood lighting and your ‘mysterious artist’ playlist again.”

He smirks, starts the car. “So… seven.”

=

You expected dinner. Maybe somewhere moody and minimalist, some dimly lit place with overpriced appetizers and equally pretentious wine.

But instead here you are. Sitting side by side at a long wooden table, an apron tied around your waist, a half-painted ceramic mug in front of you, and a tiny tray of pastel paints between you.

Wonwoo doesn’t look away from his own mug. He’s holding it delicately like it’s some ancient relic, brows furrowed in concentration as he paints what looks like…a sunset?

“You said you wanted to do this.”

“No, I said I saw it while scrolling and thought it looked cute,” you point out. “That’s not the same thing as a formal request.”

He finally looks up at you, and the grin he’s trying not to wear is way too pleased.

“So you did say it.”

You narrow your eyes. “You were listening?”

“I always listen.”

You stare at him.

He dips his brush in a light yellow, still focused. “You said it two weeks ago. You were scrolling through your feed in the break room, showed Sooyoung the pictures, said—‘This looks fun, but no one would ever go with me to this.’”

Your mouth opens, then shuts.

Wonwoo glances at you now, and it’s not smug. It’s soft. Intent. Warm in a way that throws you a little off balance.

“I thought you might like it,” he says simply. “Something different. Something just for you.”

You don’t answer right away. Just look down at your mug and quietly add another dot of pink near the handle, heart doing something traitorous in your chest.

When you sneak a peek at him again, he's already watching you. Eyes bright. Chin rested in his hand, the corner of his mouth lifted in the smallest, most genuine smile.

“You’re enjoying this,” you accuse.

He shrugs, still staring. “You’re cute when you concentrate.”

Your brush slips. “I will paint you.”

He leans in slightly. “Promise?”

You try to scowl, but your face is already warm, and he knows it. He can see it. Wonwoo’s eyes crinkle faintly as he turns back to his mug, utterly content.

And that’s when it hits you.

This man—this brooding, black-wearing, shadow-chasing photographer—has remembered a throwaway comment you made two weeks ago. And now he’s painting a damn ceramic mug with you on a Friday night like it’s the only thing he’s wanted to do all week.

God help you. You’re in so much trouble.

You swirl your brush into the sky-blue paint, trying to distract yourself from how warm your face feels. It doesn’t work. 

“You know,” you mutter, not even bothering to look at him this time, “for someone who calls me annoying all the time…”

He looks up, eyes waiting.

You finish, “You seem to like me way too much.”

He doesn't answer right away. Just sets his brush down slowly, wipes his fingers on a paper towel, and leans his elbow onto the table. Tilts his head like he’s studying you.

“I don’t call you annoying all the time,” he says, voice maddeningly calm.

“Oh my god,” you huff. “That’s your response?”

“I’m being accurate.”

You give him a flat look.

He lets out a soft laugh barely a sound, just enough to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“I do like you too much,” he says, almost offhandedly.

That makes you blink.

Your heart skips like it missed the memo on how to beat properly. “What?”

Wonwoo picks up his mug again, like he didn’t just casually drop a bomb between you. “I said I like you too much.”

You just… stare.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You gonna pretend you didn’t hear that too?”

You grab your own mug, suddenly very invested in outlining a tiny heart on the rim. “I just wasn’t expecting you to admit it.”

“I’m not subtle.”

“You’re the least subtle person I’ve ever met.”

“Then why are you acting surprised?”

You pause, brush mid-air.  “…Because you’re you.”

He looks over again, and this time, his expression is quieter. Steadier.

“Yeah,” he says. “And I’m sitting here painting mugs with you. What does that tell you?”

Wonwoo leans in just a little more, elbow still propped, voice low and even.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You look up at him slowly. His face is unreadable but not cold. Focused. Like he’s waiting on a shutter click only you can trigger.

You swallow. Then shake your head. “Don’t.”

He doesn’t smile but his eyes say everything.

He doesn’t say anything after that. Jst gives you that long, unreadable look one last time before turning back to his mug like it never happened. Like he didn’t just casually tilt your entire emotional axis with a straight face.

You watch him quietly, lips parting, something light curling in your chest.

And then a slow smile creeps across your face.

You lean in closer, resting your elbow on the table, voice soft but laced with amusement. “Knew it.”

He glances sideways. “Knew what?”

“That you liked me,” you say, teasing now. “You’re, like… secretly a softie. Under all the black clothes and broody attitude. You're just a big, secretly sentimental guy who paints mugs and remembers stuff I say in passing.”

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up.

“That’s because you’re annoying.”

You gasp. “Wow.”

“Loud,” he continues calmly, as if listing facts. “Dramatic. Difficult. Always in my space. Won’t shut up.”

You swat his arm with your brush. “Rude.”

Paint dots his sleeve. He pauses, finally looks down at it, then up at you with the most deadpan expression.

“That was intentional.”

“I plead the fifth.”

He sighs, exaggerated and slow. “This is what I get for liking you.”

=

You weren’t expecting to hear from him over the weekend.

After Friday night. After that smile, that look, the mug painting, the soft teasing that still loops in your head on repeat you figured there’d be some space. A reset. Time to overthink everything.

But then, Saturday morning, your phone buzzed.

Wonwoo [8:02 AM]: Good morning.

You stared at the screen. Blinking. Then you squealed. Actually squealed. Like a teenager with a crush and no self-control.

You flopped back onto your bed, pillow over your face, heart doing somersaults. What is happening to me.

Before you could type a cool, detached response, another message came through.

Wonwoo [8:03 AM]: Breakfast?

Now here you are.

Twenty-five minutes later, seated side by side in a quiet café tucked into a sleepy street corner. It’s all soft sunlight through gauzy curtains, the clink of cutlery, and the hum of lazy weekend chatter.

He’s next to you, legs casually spread, forearm resting on the table, black hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Glasses on. 

You poke at your hash browns. “So this is your idea of a date?”

Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his fork. “You like breakfast food.”

“How do you even know that?”

“You always order pancakes at client brunches and complain when they don’t give you syrup on the side.”

Your fork pauses mid-air.

He glances over, like it’s not a big deal.

“I pay attention,” he says simply.

You don’t know what to do with that. You sip your coffee to buy time. “You know, if you keep doing things like this, I’m gonna start thinking you’re sweet.”

He raises a brow, chews a bite of toast. “That’s your first mistake.”

You grin. “So you’re saying you’re not secretly a sweetheart?”

He gives you a look. “I dragged you out of bed for carbs. Not a confession.”

“But you said good morning.”

He rolls his eyes, but his mouth twitches.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says.

You nudge his arm with your elbow. “And you like it.”

He doesn’t argue. Just takes a sip of his coffee, slow and quiet.

Then, voice lower, “You free tomorrow?”

You glance at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Might feel like seeing you again.”

You narrow your eyes at him, setting your coffee cup down with a little more force than necessary. “See—this is what gets me.”

Wonwoo quirks a brow, entirely unfazed. “What?”

“You can flirt like this,” you say, gesturing at him dramatically. “Be all… soft-voiced and casual and thoughtful and infuriatingly attractive—”

“Infuriating?” he echoes, amused.

“Let me finish,” you snap. “You can do all this. Make me flustered before 10 a.m.but instead, most of the time, you choose to argue with me like we’re in the middle of a creative deathmatch.”

He leans back in his seat, that familiar smirk creeping up. “That’s rich coming from the girl who picks a fight every time I suggest a muted color palette.”

“Because your idea of ‘muted’ is one shade above grayscale,” you shoot back.

“And your idea of contrast is blinding the audience.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

You scowl harder, jabbing your fork in his direction. “There. That. This is exactly what I mean. You’re flirting and fighting. It’s emotional whiplash.”

Wonwoo shrugs, cool as ever. “You’re the one who said I was secretly a softie. Can’t blame me for trying to keep up appearances.”

You huff, crossing your arms as you lean back. “You could try being normal.”

“I am being normal.”

“You are the opposite of normal. You have resting death glare, an emotional support camera, and a romantic streak that only shows up after 9 p.m.”

He snorts. “Says the woman who argues like it’s foreplay and sat on my lap in the office like that was a normal Tuesday.”

Your cheeks flare immediately. “That was—! Okay, first of all, that was an act of curiosity—”

“That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“I hate you.”

“You like me too much to hate me.”

You roll your eyes, but your mouth twitches.

“See?” he says, smug. “That smile. You always pretend like you’re annoyed, but you love it.”

“I do not—”

“You do.” He leans in slightly, voice dipping. “You like when I push your buttons. When I argue with you. You light up every time.”

Your lips part, caught halfway between protest and denial—but he’s not wrong. Not completely. You reach for your toast instead of replying.

Wonwoo watches you for a moment longer, then adds, “I argue with you because you’re the only one who can keep up.”

You glance up. He’s not teasing anymore. There’s something behind his voice. Quieter. Real.

“That… was kind of sweet,” you admit cautiously.

He sighs dramatically, stabbing at a piece of his pancake. “Guess I’m slipping.”

You smirk, nudging him under the table with your knee. “Don’t worry. You’ll say something annoying again in about three minutes.”

His smile returns, slow and knowing. “Then I better enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

=

The next few days pass with no big declarations, no dramatic shifts just… the quiet continuation of whatever this thing between you and Wonwoo has become.

You still bicker during team discussions. You still roll your eyes when he insists on shadow-heavy frames. He still pokes holes in your captions until you threaten to delete his entire photo folder.

But you also catch him holding the elevator for you without saying a word. He always walks you to the lobby. Opens the passenger door. Drives you home like it’s automatic now. You tease him about it, call him your grumpy chauffeur. He says nothing just gives you that small side glance, the one that means he’s secretly pleased.

It’s those little things. Consistent. Steady.

Then Thursday rolls around.

The office has emptied out hours ago, the hum of fluorescent lights the only company left. You’re still at your desk, eyes glued to your screen, headphones in, halfway through rewriting a tagline that just won’t cooperate.

You don’t notice the time. Not until a quiet shadow moves behind you.

You pull your earbuds out and spin your chair around. He’s just standing there. In a black hoodie again, hands in his pockets, gaze half-lidded.

You blink at him, surprised. “Wonwoo?”

“It’s past ten.”

You check the time at the corner of your screen and curse. “Shit. Really?”

“You skipped dinner.”

You frown. “How do you know that?”

“You’re still here,” he says simply. “And your coffee cup’s empty.”

You stare at him. “Are you keeping tabs on my caffeine intake now?”

He shrugs. “Someone has to.”

You snort softly. “Okay, dad.”

He doesn’t move. Just studies you from where he’s standing, eyes tracing your tired face, your slumped shoulders. He tilts his head slightly, and in that quiet office, it feels like he’s close enough to hear your heartbeat.

“You should’ve gone home,” you murmur

“I was about to.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I saw your light still on.”

You don’t say anything to that. Can’t because he didn’t have to come up. He didn’t have to check on you. But he always does. In his quiet, maddening, consistent way.

You finally stand up, gathering your things. “Alright. Let me just shut this down.”

Wonwoo steps back slightly, waiting.

Then, while your computer hums its shutdown tune, he asks, voice quieter, “You always stay this late when I’m not around?”

You glance at him, lips twitching. “Why, getting jealous of my overtime?”

He meets your gaze head-on. “I’m serious.”

You shoulder your bag, facing him fully now. “No. I just got stuck in the zone.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond. Just reaches forward, gently plucks your phone off your desk and hands it to you, thumb brushing yours in the process.

You take it. He turns toward the elevator, expecting you to follow.And you do. As the elevator doors close with a soft ding, the hum of motion filling the silence, Wonwoo speaks again 

“Next time you stay this late,” he says, “text or call me.”

You glance at him through the faint reflection on the elevator doors

“It’s dangerous to go home this late.”

Your brow arches, a smile tugging at your lips. “Wow,” you murmur. “You quoting video games now? ‘It’s dangerous to go alone’ what are you, my pixelated knight in shining armor?”

He doesn’t answer. You turn your head to glance at him, and his eyes are still on you. Calm, unreadable.

You can’t help it, you keep going. “What’s next? You gonna give me a sword and three hearts?”

“Would you shut up for five seconds,” he mutters under his breath, more fond than irritated.

“Oh my god, you are a secret softie. I knew it.”

He exhales like you’re the world’s biggest problem set wrapped in an overactive imagination. The elevator slows to a stop. You’re still teasing, still poking at him. Words halfway out of your mouth as the doors slide open.

And somewhere between your rambling and your dramatic gasp over his concern, his hand finds yours.

Fingers threading together. Warm, natural. You don’t even register it at first.

Still caught in your usual antics. “Should I be worried now? Are you gonna make me wear pepper spray on a lanyard and check in every hour?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Just walks with you, still holding your hand like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You glance down—finally, finally noticing.

You blink. “Wait—are you holding my hand?”

“Brilliant observation.”

“When did this happen?!”

He sighs. “Three insults ago.”

You blink again, looking down at your tangled fingers like they’re foreign. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Didn’t want to interrupt you. You were busy dragging my entire personality.”

Your cheeks flush before you can stop it, and suddenly you’re way too aware of the heat in your palm, of how his thumb brushes yours once before he lets go to open the building’s front door.

You walk out together into the cool night air, heart rattling somewhere near your throat.

And when you glance at him again, all he says is

“You talk too much.”

But his hand brushes yours again, like it’s waiting. So you take it back.

“Yeah, well,” you say smugly, fingers still laced with his as he walks you toward his car. “You like me, so.”

He exhales one of those long-suffering breaths, like he’s dealing with a particularly persistent migraine that he’s secretly fond of. Then he opens the car door for you, motions you in with a dramatic flourish, and mutters, “Should’ve just kept you guessing.”

You scoff, sliding into the seat. “As if you’re capable of being subtle.”

He closes the door, rounds the car. You’re still going by the time he’s in the driver’s seat.

“You’re the opposite of lowkey, Jeon Wonwoo. You scared that male model the other week just for saying I looked good in pink.”

He adjusts the mirror, nonchalant. “He was too close.”

“And what about that time the new photographer tried to ask what I was doing Friday night? You cut in mid-sentence and told him I already had plans—with you. You didn’t even blink.”

“He was wasting his breath.”

You point at him accusingly. “Exactly. That’s what I mean! You act like you’re all calm and detached but you’re the most obvious person in the room. If anyone even looks at me for too long, you show up like some passive-aggressive shadow with a lens and a grudge—”

“Hmm.”

“—and you say I’m dramatic, but meanwhile you’re plotting someone’s downfall because they complimented my sentence structure—”

“Right.”

“—and honestly I don’t even know how you’re still pretending to be chill about any of this when you literally—”

“Are you done?” he cuts in suddenly, turning to you

You blink, mid-rant. “No, I—”

Then he’s leaning in. No warning. No dramatic pause. Just moving. Smooth, easy, like it’s always been this simple for him.

His hand finds your jaw, steadying you, and then his lips are on yours. Warm and unhurried, but firm, certain. Like he’s finally tired of hearing you talk but can’t bear the thought of shutting you up any other way.

It knocks the air from your lungs.

You don’t even realize your hands have curled into his hoodie until he pulls back, just slightly, enough to speak against your lips.

“I like it better when your mouth’s busy doing that.”

Your heart’s still hammering when you murmur, “You’re unbelievable.”

His thumb brushes your cheek. “You’re impossible.”

The drive was quiet but electric. When you got to your building, he walks you to your floor.

Now here you are. 

Your back hits the door to your apartment with a soft thud, and thank god the hallway’s empty because right now, Jeon Wonwoo has you pressed against it and your mouth is very, very busy.

You breathe out, lips brushing his. “I should go.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, mouth already finding yours again, slow and deep like he has no intention of stopping.

You make a quiet sound, tilt your head to kiss him harder. Your hands slide up his chest, into his hair. His palms are flat on either side of your waist, thumbs brushing your skin through your shirt like it’s second nature.

You break away again, breathless, eyes hazy. “Wonwoo—really—I have to go—”

He only pulls you closer, mouth dragging along your jaw, his voice low against your skin. “Then open the door.”

You shiver. “I didn’t say you were coming in.”

“Then stop kissing me like you want me to.”

That shuts you up.

He pulls back just enough to look at you flushed, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip like he’s memorizing it.

You hate how easy it is to melt into him again. Hate how your body doesn’t listen to your brain at all.

“I’m serious,” you whisper, though your fingers are tugging him closer again. “I should really—go—”

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “But you keep chasing me.”

You groan into his lips, smiling helplessly. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says, smug now.

You don’t deny it.

Instead, you kiss him again, slow and lingering, until your hand’s fumbling behind you for the doorknob—

And you know, deep down, you’re definitely not going anywhere.

The next morning, you wake up tangled in your sheets, your hoodie sliding off one shoulder—his hoodie that he left with you.

Sunlight spills through the curtains, soft and warm across your legs. Your apartment is still. Quiet. Suspiciously so. You blink up at the ceiling for a solid five seconds before it hits you.

Oh my god.

Your eyes fly open.

You sit up so fast your head spins. “Oh my god, that happened.”

You cover your face with your hands, your voice muffled behind your palms. “No, no, no, that happened. I made out with Jeon Wonwoo in the hallway. I let him kiss me like that outside my apartment where there are cameras—”

You groan, falling back onto the mattress. “He left his hoodie here. I wore his hoodie here. We’re a cliché.”

You peek at the hoodie you’re still wearing and groan again.

“Why is this so soft—he did this on purpose—”

Then your phone rings.

You jolt, scrambling across the bed to grab it, heart already pounding.

Wonwoo[Incoming Call]

You stare at the screen like it’s personally offended you.

“Oh my god,” you whisper again. “Is this what regret feels like? Is this karma?”

You hesitate then answer, trying to sound normal. “Hello?”

His voice comes through, low and way too calm. “You awake?”

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter. “Yeah. Just now.”

“Good,” he says. “Come to the door.”

Your heart jumps. “What?”

“I’m outside.”

Your mouth falls open. “Wonwoo—”

“I brought breakfast.” A pause. “And your favorite kind of coffee. Because I do listen, remember?”

You’re stunned silent.

Then he adds, dryly, “Also, I want my hoodie back.”

You hang your head, whispering to yourself, “I’m in so much trouble.”

But you’re already getting up. You open the door in his hoodie and sleep shorts, hair a mess, bare-faced, and still halfway in denial.

And there he is.

Jeon Wonwoo. In all his early morning glory black ball cap, grey hoodie, two cups of coffee in one hand, a paper bag of what smells suspiciously like breakfast carbs in the other.

You blink at him. “...Hi.”

Wonwoo blinks back. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” you say too quickly, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re acting weird. You just showed up. Unannounced. With breakfast. And feelings.”

He walks in, drops the food on your kitchen counter like he’s done it a hundred times. “I told you I was outside.”

“That doesn’t make it less weird!”

“You wore my hoodie to bed.”

“Yeah, well, it was cold—”

“You sniffed it first.”

You freeze mid-step. “I did not.”

“You’re obsessed.”

You point a finger at him. “You kissed me first.”

“And you chased me like it was a sport.”

You fumble for a comeback, but your brain short-circuits, short-wired by sleep and his voice and the way he’s looking at you.

So you just sputter, waving your arms in a full-body flail of denial. “I’m not—! I don’t—! This is your fault!”

Wonwoo tilts his head. “What is?”

“You! Being... like this!”

He raises an eyebrow, steps closer. “Like what?”

You backpedal. “Like—tall. And smug. And weirdly nice in the most aggressive way possible. You remembered my pancake order and you brought coffee—”

“Because you like it with two sugars and a splash of oat milk—”

“STOP BEING PERFECT,” you shout, face burning.

Wonwoo just watches you. Calm. Unmoving. Infuriating. Then, while you’re mid-rant, hands flying, voice loud—

He grabs your wrist.

Pulls you forward.

And kisses you.

Right there in your kitchen, your sleep hair everywhere, no lip balm, no sense of logic. Just his lips on yours. Quieting every thought. Shutting you up the only way he knows how now.

When he finally pulls back, he’s still annoyingly close. “Better?”

You blink at him, stunned.

Then you mutter, dazed: “I literally forgot my name for a second.”

He smirks, presses another kiss to your forehead, and says, “Good. Now sit down before you combust. Your pancakes are getting cold.”

He chuckles softly from across the table, watching you stab at your pancakes with way more intensity than necessary.

“You mad at the syrup or just taking it out on the carbs?” he asks, resting his chin in his hand, thoroughly amused.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you chew. “You’re lucky these are good.”

“I’m amazing at breakfast choices.”

“You’re annoying.”

He grins. That’s the thing about you, always calling him annoying, always pushing, always rolling your eyes and pretending to be fed up. But he knows. He knows now.

You critique his muted color tones, call him dramatic when he won’t let you walk to your car alone, mock the way he glares at everyone within a ten-foot radius of you but you’ve never once stopped him.

Not once.

Not when he cuts in between you and another guy trying to ask where you’re from. Not when he shuts down some overeager creative lead asking if you’re “single off-duty.” You don’t even flinch.

In fact, he’s noticed the opposite.

You lean into it.

Literally.

You inch closer to his side at events. Your elbow brushes his more often than it needs to. You never stop him when he mutters “she’s busy” on your behalf. And when someone has the guts to ask for your number, he catches the flicker of relief in your eyes.

Wonwoo’s not a mind reader. But he pays attention.

It’s one of the many things about you he’s learning to love.

“Hey,” he says now, voice lower, soft.

You look up, mid-bite, eyebrows raised. “Hmm?”

He leans forward, eyes tracing your face. “You gonna let me keep doing this?”

You swallow. “Doing what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between you two. “Waking you up. Bringing breakfast. Stealing kisses before you’ve brushed your hair.”

You flush, stabbing another piece of pancake with less force this time. “Depends. You gonna keep cutting off every guy who even breathes in my direction?”

Wonwoo leans back in his chair, smirking. “Obviously.”

You smirk back, cheeks pink. “Then yeah. I’ll allow it.”

He pretends to exhale in relief. “Wow. Finally. Permission.”

“Don’t push it,” you mutter.

But you're smiling. And he’s watching you like you're his favorite bad habit. Because you are.

You twirl your fork through the syrup, casually, like you’re not about to ask the question that’s been crawling through your brain all morning. Like your heart isn’t already speeding up just from the way he’s watching you.

You poke at your pancake again. “So…”

Wonwoo raises a brow.

You glance at him. “When did it start?”

He blinks. “Huh?”

You look up fully now, resting your elbow on the table, eyes narrowing playfully. “You. This. Me.” You motion vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever this is. When did it start for you?”

Wonwoo pauses, blinking once, then sits back a little, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “You mean when did I start liking you?”

You shrug, feigning casual. “I mean. If you wanna be all straightforward about it.”

He hums, sets his cup down, like he’s actually thinking. And that just makes you more nervous.

You’re expecting some recent, dramatic moment but when he answers, it’s quiet. Blunt. Like it’s not a big deal.

“The second campaign.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs. “You argued with me for a full twenty minutes over the tone of the ad copy. You refused to change it just because the client said so.”

“I—” You blink again. “I wasn’t even nice to you back then.”

“You weren’t,” he agrees. “But you were right. And you didn’t care that I was annoyed. You stood your ground. And you looked good doing it.”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

“And then,” he continues, “you tried to storm out but knocked over your coffee and tripped over a light stand.”

You cover your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“I caught you,” he adds, sipping his coffee again.

“Stop talking.”

“I liked you after that.”

You peek through your fingers. “You’re insane.”

“You were wearing green that day,” he adds. “You never wear green.”

You lower your hands slowly, staring at him like he’s just admitted to memorizing your closet. “You remember what I was wearing?”

He shrugs again. “I always remember.”

Wonwoo leans forward, voice lower now. “Your turn.”

You blink. “My turn for what?”

“When did it start for you?” He’s already smirking. Like he knows. Like he’s just waiting for you to squirm.

“Go on,” he says, voice low and maddeningly smug. “Say it. When exactly?”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

He just leans back in his seat, arms folded across his chest, sipping his coffee like he’s got all the time in the world. “That’s not a date.”

You scowl harder. He waits. Silent. Patient. Amused. You look at your plate. Your fork. The wall. The napkin dispenser. Anywhere but his face.

Eventually, with a dramatic sigh, you mutter under your breath, “The first introduction.”

Wonwoo raises a brow. “What was that?”

You roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. “The first introduction, alright?! When you joined the company.”

He freezes and you catch the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth before he tries to hide it behind his mug.

“Seriously?” he says, voice a little smug but mostly surprised. “That early?”

You wave your fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh no, too late.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “You walked into the meeting room in that dumb black button-up, all tall and unreadable and broody-looking, and I knew. I knew you were going to be a problem.”

“Problem,” he echoes, smiling now. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

“You didn’t even smile,” you go on, ignoring him. “Just nodded at everyone and sat down like you were already too good for us. And then later you criticized the storyboard without even reading my captions.”

“It was a bad storyboard.”

“I worked all night on it.”

“It still sucked.”

You throw your napkin at him. He catches it, grinning.

“I literally said to Sooyoung,” you mutter, “‘That guy’s going to be the death of me.’”

“And here I am,” he says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Still killing you softly.”

And you want to be mad. You try to glare. But his eyes are warm and his mouth is smiling and he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

You grumble, “I should’ve transferred departments.”

He shrugs. “You didn’t.”

You sigh. “I almost did.”

“You liked me the second I walked into the room,” he says with zero shame.

You groan, dropping your head to the table. “I should’ve transferred to another building.”

He reaches over, threads his fingers into yours on top of the table like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You don’t pull away.

“You didn’t,” he murmurs again. “That’s what matters.”

And you hate how that makes your chest feel stupidly full.

=

It’s already midday by the time you arrive on set. The shoot’s in full swing, assistants buzzing around, lights flashing, stylists adjusting hems and hair. The usual chaos, but organized in that beautiful, creative kind of way.

Wonwoo’s in the center of it all, camera in hand, black tee and cargo pants, sleeves rolled, hair slightly. He hasn’t seen you yet.

You’re off to the side, talking quietly with the campaign coordinator and art director, catching up on what’s been done so far. 

Wonwoo, mid-cue, camera lifted, one eye squinted behind the lens. His voice calm and low as he gives the model directions.

You watch the flash go off.

Then he lowers the camera and she laughs. Loud. High-pitched. She says something and reaches out, her fingers grazing his arm.

You see him glance down. See him step slightly out of range. But she doesn’t seem to care. Keeps talking. Her lips curve a little too much. She tosses her hair and says something else. You can't hear everything, but you catch the tone. The shift.

 “Are you always this serious?” Her voice rings just clear enough through the lights and buzz.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond right away. He adjusts a setting on his camera.

“I mean, it’s kind of hot,” she says.

That’s when you walk up. You stop at the monitor behind him, pretending to review the last few shots. You feel the shift before he says a word. His body turns slightly. His shoulders ease.

And then, mid-shot, he murmurs, “Didn’t know you were here.”

You don’t look at him, flipping through the clipboard with studied nonchalance. “I’ve been here a while. Watching you be mysterious and hard to look away from.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then a quiet exhale. Almost a laugh. Almost. You finally glance up and meet his eyes. And he’s already looking at you. Already wearing that expression, the one that only ever appears when it’s you.

The model, still nearby, clears her throat, clearly expecting more attention.

Wonwoo turns back to her briefly, voice distant now. “Hold that pose for a moment.”

You stand a few feet from the setup, arms crossed loosely as you watch him work. Wonwoo is in his element

“Like this?” she asks, tilting her head just slightly toward him, her hand brushing her collarbone as if to draw his eye. “Or should I be looking at you?”

Wonwoo doesn’t react. Just peers through the lens. “At the light. Not me.”

She laughs. “But you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

You roll your eyes so hard they might leave your body. Oh my god.

She giggles after every other shutter click. Touches her hair. Tilts toward him like she’s trying to melt into his camera.

And then finally the shoot wraps.

Wonwoo lowers the camera and wordlessly hands it off to one of the assistants. No nod. No thank-you. Just turns. And walks straight to you.

He doesn’t say much. Doesn’t need to. He stops right in front of you, eyes locked on yours, voice low but crystal clear

“Ready to go, babe?”

Silence. The model? Jaw dropped. You? Stunned. Speechless. You can literally hear your brain buffering. The stylist next to you physically gasps. A tech guy across the room drops something. Somewhere, someone forgets how to breathe.

You’re frozen. But he’s already taking the folder from your hands, slinging his own camera bag over one shoulder then grabbing your bag like it’s just a matter of routine.

And then he’s strolling toward the exit. Cool, calm, deadly.

He stops by the doorway. Turns. Holds his hand out, fingers open like he’s done this a hundred times.  You stare. One beat. Two.

Then you move.

You walk toward him, wordless. Your fingers slide into his like they were meant to be there all along. The room behind you stays completely, utterly silent.

And he just smiles, the smallest bit, like this was the plan all along.

The moment the car door shuts behind you, your brain is still catching up. He doesn’t say a word as he starts the car, calm as ever, hands steady on the wheel.

And finally, as he turns out onto the street, smooth and quiet like nothing earth-shattering just happened

You whip your head toward him. “Okay. Hold up. Pause. What. Was. THAT?”

Wonwoo hums like he doesn’t already know exactly what you’re talking about. “What?”

You throw your hands in the air. “What? Are you serious right now?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, one hand relaxed on the wheel, the other resting lazily between you. “You mean at the shoot?”

You scoff. “Yes, at the shoot, Jeon Wonwoo. You dropped ‘babe’ like it was your job title.”

“Right.” He nods like he’s just remembered. “Because you are.”

You stare. “That’s not the point!”

“I think it is.”

“You shattered the room.”

“Not my fault they’re slow,” he shrugs.

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “The model looked like she saw her career flash before her eyes.”

“She kept flirting with me,” he says simply. “You looked annoyed.”

You glare at him. “I was annoyed. But I wasn’t expecting a public broadcast. You never say stuff like that in front of anyone.”

He glances at you now, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “You didn’t like it?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t think so.”

You cross your arms. “Still. That was... aggressive.”

“She kept touching me.”

“Okay but—”

“She said I was hard to ignore,” he adds, like that alone should justify the entire situation.

“Because you are!” you snap, then immediately shut your mouth like you didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You groan again, slumping in your seat. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You glance at him again, arms still folded. “You’re getting cocky.”

He parks, puts the car in park, then looks at you fully, finally.

“Let them know,” he says simply.

You blink. “Let who know?”

“The ones who flirt,” he says, voice low, eyes on yours. “That I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart does a very stupid flip. You try to act unaffected. Fail spectacularly.

“…Okay,” you mumble.

You push his shoulder, trying not to smile. You fail at that too.

You scowl at him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, twisting to face him fully. “Subtlety is really not for you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He shrugs, annoyingly unbothered, wrist draped over the wheel, head turned toward you like he’s got all the time in the world. “Not when it comes to you, no.”

Then, with a glance out the windshield, he adds, “I don’t like people thinking I’m available.”

That makes your stomach twist. You blink, leaning back slightly. “Aren’t you?”

The question slips out before you can really think it through. And now it hangs in the air between you.

You’re not… not together. You’ve been tangled in each other’s orbit for weeks now. Shoots, coffee, hand-holding, car rides, sleepovers, kisses in hallways and pancakes in your kitchen but still, technically…

No one’s said the words. Not officially. Not aloud.

Wonwoo’s quiet for a second. Then he exhales once, and his voice is steady when he says, “You really think I’d be doing all this if I was?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I mean… I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a very romantic situationship.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m not—” You look at him. “Okay, maybe I am joking, but—look, I’m just saying… You’ve never actually said it.”

He watches you.

And you hate how serious he looks now. Like you touched something buried a little deeper in him.

“Do you want me to?” he asks, quiet.

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Do you want to?”

He turns his body toward you slightly, the car engine humming low in the silence. “I’m not the type who says things just to say them.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I know.”

“I do things when I mean it. That’s why I take my time.”

You speak, a little softer now. “So what is this, then?”

“Mine.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. “...You can’t just say that.”

“You asked.”

You swallow. “So that’s it? That’s your label?”

“It’s not a label. It’s a fact.”

You shake your head, trying not to smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leans a little closer, hand brushing yours on the console between you. “You haven’t stopped me once. Not when I held your hand. Not when I kissed you in your hallway. Not when I called you babe in front of other people.”

“You don’t want to be available either,” he murmurs.

“…I never said I did,” you say under your breath.

“Then stop looking surprised when I act like you’re mine.”

You glance down at your hands and then back at him. “So you’re not available.”

He squeezes your fingers. “Not even close.”

You don’t even get two full steps from the car before you hear the door close behind him and his footsteps following right after.

You roll your eyes, barely glancing over your shoulder. “Don’t you have, like, a mysterious exit to make or something?”

“Nope,” he says, and when you turn, he’s already there. One tugs gently at the hem of his hoodie still draped on you, the other brushing your hair behind your ear, so casual, so him.

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to call me boyfriend.”

You scoff, heat crawling up your neck despite the very valiant eye roll you throw at him. ��You’re literally unbearable.”

“And yet,” he says, fingers sliding down your arm until he catches your hand, “you let me call you babe in front of, what, fifteen people?”

“That was ambush flirtation,” you say, trying to keep your face straight. “You weaponized affection.”

“You didn’t say stop,” he murmurs, leaning in, voice low. “You blushed. You froze. You followed me out like I was your ride home and your last meal.”

You jab a finger at his chest. “First of all, you were my ride home. Second, I was in shock.”

He grins. “Exactly. You like it when I keep you on your toes.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mutter.

His fingers lace through yours. “I know I’m lucky.”

That catches you off guard, softens your smile just a little. And then he’s kissing you again light, unhurried, the kind of kiss that says yeah, this is mine.

When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Say it.”

You raise a brow. “Say what?”

He brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “Say I’m your boyfriend.”

“Why? Need the validation?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I just like hearing you say it.”

You look up at him for a long second, chest warm, lips twitching.

You tug him closer by the front of his ahirt, grinning now. “You’re my boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo. Happy?”

He pretends to think about it, then leans in again. “Ecstatic.”

And this time, you’re the one who kisses him.

=

The gallery is already full when you step inside the buzz of soft conversation, and the click of polished shoes against polished floors. His name is printed in bold black lettering on the entrance wall:  Jeon Wonwoo — Light / Shadow 

You smile, tugging your coat tighter around you, your suitcase still wheeling behind. You’d just landed an hour ago. He thinks you’re still three cities away, deep in a client shoot.

But there was no way you were missing this.

You move quietly through the crowd, scanning the framed photos.. There’s his signature minimalism, sure.  One in particular makes you stop cold.

It’s a photo of hands, your hands. Mid-motion. A soft focus, a blurred laugh caught in the background. You remember the day he took it. You didn’t even know he was shooting.

Then a familiar voice, low and polite from across the room.

“Thanks for coming,” he says to someone. “No—really, I wasn’t sure anyone would show up.”

You turn. He’s across the floor, in a charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair styled like he hasn’t touched it since this morning. He looks calm. Grounded. But there's a nervous edge in his stance you know too well.

He hasn’t seen you yet.

You watch as someone gestures to one of the larger portraits and he answers with that quiet way of his but you can see the way he tugs slightly at his cuff when no one’s looking.

Your heart aches.

You wait until there’s a lull, until the guest he’s speaking to turns away—then you step forward, voice soft, just enough for him to hear:

“You really thought I’d miss this?”

Wonwoo turns eyes wide. He stares for a solid three seconds like you’re a ghost then his shoulders drop, and something in his face just melts.

“You said—”

“Flight got moved up,” you say with a grin, stepping into his space. “So I made a detour.”

He looks you up and down like he’s still trying to believe it. “You flew straight here?”

You shrug. “Had to see your name on a wall in person.”

He blinks. “You’re insane.”

You smirk. “You’re welcome.”

And before he can say another word, you’re pulling him in, arms sliding around his neck, ignoring the murmurs and background clinking of glasses. He exhales sharply, head ducking against your shoulder like he’s been holding his breath all night.

“Hi,” he murmurs into your ear.

“Hi,” you whisper back. “Proud of you, boyfriend.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you.

“I put that photo in the exhibit for a reason,” he says, tilting his head toward the picture of your hands.

You glance at it again. “Why?”

He leans in. “Because that’s what my work looks like when I’m in love.”

You freeze. He smiles, soft and barely there but oh, it wrecks you.

And then he presses a kiss to your cheek, grounding, quiet, before whispering “Don’t ever stay out of town that long again.”

You’re already talking before you even finish your second step into the room again.

“Okay but that one over there—tell me that’s the one you almost deleted. You’re insane for even thinking about it—oh my god, Yeji! Hi!” you beam, waving to one of the junior curators you’d met before, leaning into Wonwoo slightly as she waves back excitedly.

Your fingers are laced with his like it’s second nature, your other hand gesturing animatedly as you keep talking, already switching topics mid-thought.

Wonwoo just watches you.

Still holding your hand. Still pulling your small carry-on behind him like it’s nothing. Like you didn’t just travel hours to be here. Like his chest didn’t finally unclench the second you walked through the gallery doors.

You keep talking, not even noticing how quiet he is. You’re too busy waving, pointing at framed photos, complimenting random staff, joking about wine choices.

And he just lets you. Like always. Like your voice fills in the spaces that get too loud in his own head. Like the background noise of his thoughts dims the longer you’re near.

Like your voice, no matter how fast or chaotic, is the only kind of noise that feels like silence to him. The good kind. The kind that settles him.

He squeezes your hand once, a silent I missed this.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The… staring-like-I’m-your-favorite-plot-twist thing.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “You are.”

You blink, caught off guard for half a second before you groan and bump his shoulder with yours. “You’re lucky I missed you.”

Wonwoo just follows along, carrying your bag, carrying your chatter, letting the sound of you fill in all the quiet spaces that haven’t felt quite right since you left.

And somehow—this chaos? This fast-talking, opinion-sharing, story-hopping version of you?

It’s the most peace he’s had in weeks.

He glances over at you from the driver’s seat, and you don’t even notice. You’re too busy gesturing with your hands, buzzing from pride and energy and airport coffee.

“You don’t even get it, Wonwoo, I almost cried. And you know I don’t cry at things with clean lighting and clean lines. I cry at commercials and drama specials and dogs. But that last shot with the man on the bench?? I was like, sobbing internally. I swear the woman next to me was crying too, or maybe I just imagined that to feel less insane—”

He’s smiling now. Small, quiet, not for you to notice. But he’s listening because you haven’t stopped since the gallery. And he doesn’t want you to.

By the time you’re inside his apartment, you’ve kicked off your shoes and peeled off your coat, still talking. Now you’re sitting on his bed, cross-legged in his clothes, hands moving as fast as your mouth.

He leans against the doorframe for a second, watching you. Silently. Like you’re the main feature now.

“And the print layout? Gorgeous. I mean, obviously, because you, but still—like, museum-quality. Like, people will look at that ten years from now and pretend they saw it when it first opened. You know that, right? You know this is one of those shows people brag about seeing? I heard two people talking in the corner, one of them was like ‘this guy’s gonna blow up’ and I was just there smiling like, he already did.”

Wonwoo walks in slowly, dropping his keys on the desk, tossing your overnight bag onto the chair, and you still don’t notice that he hasn’t said a word in minutes.

You’re too busy beaming, caught mid-rant as you shift to face him better on the bed.

“I’m just saying,” you breathe out, finally pausing, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with sincerity, “it was beautiful. You were—are—brilliant. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Then you realize—he’s just been watching you.

You blink. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He walks over. Sits at the edge of the bed facing you. Still quiet. Still watching.

“What?”

He shrugs lightly. “You didn’t run out of words.”

“Obviously,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I never do.”

“No,” he says, voice low now. Honest. “Not for this. Not for me.”

“That bothers you?”

He shakes his head. “No. That’s not what I mean.”

You blink again. “Then what’s the look for?”

He reaches out, gently tugging your ankle until you slide closer across the blanket. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

“That’s what it feels like,” he murmurs, “when someone sees you.”

You’re quiet now. For once. Not because you don’t have anything to say. But because you don’t need to say it.

You smile, confused but soft, a breath of laughter slipping out. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t pull back right away. Just stays close, breath mingling with yours. “You talk like you’re trying to hold everything I’ve ever done in your hands.”

He brushes his thumb along the side of your knee absentmindedly, gaze dropping for a second, like the words are too raw to say while fully looking at you.

“You remember every frame, every detail. You talk about it like it matters. Like I matter.”

Your breath catches a little. “Wonwoo…”

“I’m used to people liking the work,” he says, almost absently. “Liking the photos. Liking the light, the angles. Not a lot of people care about what I was thinking when I shot something. Or what I felt.”

You lean forward slightly, bumping your forehead against his again, voice low. “I care.”

He looks at you now. “I know. That’s what I mean.”

You let out another soft laugh, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek. “Well, yeah. That’s what happens when you date a girl who’s annoyingly observant and thinks everything you make is magic.”

He kisses you. Just once slow, unhurried, like a thank you.

Then, pulling back barely an inch, he mutters against your lips, “You really are the loudest kind of peace.”

You smile. “Good. Because I’m not shutting up anytime soon.”

Later you’re pulling your hair up into a messy bun, having just washed your face. You hear the soft creak of the floorboards just before he knocks gently on the open bedroom door. When you look up, he’s standing there, still in the same dark sweater from earlier, now holding an envelope in one hand.

He crosses the room and holds it out to you.

You frown, taking it. “What’s this?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Open it.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, curious now, sliding your thumb under the seal. Inside is a print carefully wrapped, thick matte paper, the corners taped gently with that photographer precision.

You pull it out. It’s that photo.

The quiet field from the road in that small town a year go. The one with the lone tree and golden haze just before sunset. You’d both stopped there briefly accidental detour while scouting for another location. It wasn’t even part of the job. He took the photo anyway.

You’d stared at the view through the passenger window and said, half under your breath, “God, that’s beautiful.”

And he had—without a word—gotten out of the car and taken the shot.

It was the first time you both agreed on a frame without bickering, no debate, no teasing.

You run your fingers over the print now, gently. “I didn’t see this at the exhibit.”

Wonwoo sits down beside you, quiet. “That’s ‘cause it’s not part of the exhibit,” he says. “It’s yours.”

You look at him.

He’s not even watching you, eyes on the photo in your lap. “Was never meant for the gallery. I knew that the second I shot it.”

You swallow. “Wonwoo…”

He finally looks at you then, soft and serious.

“You said that one stopped time for you.”

Your heart squeezes. You glance down at the photo again, holding it like it might slip through your fingers.

“…It kind of did.”

He doesn’t answer, just leans in and presses a kiss to your temple.

You look up at him, fingers still curled around his, that photo now resting gently on your lap. The moment’s soft but your chest is full to the brim and holding it in feels impossible.

You meet his eyes, steady and sure, and say it without blinking.

“You know I’m so deeply, crazily in love with you, right?”

It hangs there for a beat. Raw. Unapologetic. And he freezes. Like your words landed somewhere inside him that he’s been keeping guarded.

His gaze doesn’t leave yours. Not for a second. Then, quietly, he says, “Say it again.”

You laugh softly. “Greedy.”

“Yeah.” His voice is rougher now, quieter. “Just this once.”

You shift closer, knees touching, your hand now resting flat over his heart like it’ll help him feel every word more clearly.

“I love you,” you whisper. “So much it’s actually kind of a problem. Like—I can’t shut up about you. I annoy Sooyoung daily. My notes app has your name in it. My camera roll is 80% you. I think about you when nothing’s even happening. It’s dumb.”

Wonwoo stares at you like you just short-circuited something in him. His jaw ticks, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. No teasing now. Just this quiet awe that settles between you.

He cups your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin like he’s grounding himself.

“You’re not dumb,” he murmurs. “You’re… everything.”

You smile, eyes crinkling. “That was dangerously close to cheesy.”

“Don’t care,” he says, leaning in. “I’m deeply, crazily in love with you, too. So get used to it.”

And then he kisses you slow, deep, final in the way that says this is what all the photos, all the silence, all the waiting was leading up to.

And you kiss him back like you’re not afraid to show it anymore.

You laugh one of those breathy, overwhelmed little laughs and then groan into your hands, flopping backwards onto the bed dramatically.

“Noooo,” you whine, voice muffled. “You don’t understand.”

Wonwoo tilts his head, clearly amused, hovering over you now with one hand braced beside your shoulder. “Then explain it to me.”

You peek up at him through your fingers. “It was cute before. Like—the banter? The arguing? The smug ‘you’re obsessed with me’ stuff?”

He nods slowly. “Still accurate.”

You throw a pillow at him. He catches it easily.

“I’m serious!” you laugh, sitting up again, cross-legged, your hands flying now. “It was fun! You were annoying, and hot, and I got to act like I wasn’t affected, you know? I had control.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you think you had?”

You ignore that entirely, already on a roll. “But then we started dating for real and it’s like—ugh. My brain broke. Like I get shy.”

He blinks. “You.”

“Me!” you say, gesturing to yourself. “Shy! Over you. And I’ve seen you grumpy, and sweaty, and hangry, and I still—” You cut yourself off with a strangled sound. “It’s a problem, Wonwoo. I’m in too deep. I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore. Like who am I?”

Wonwoo laughs. He can’t help it. Not in a teasing way just totally endeared, like he’s watching his favorite movie unfold frame by frame.

You squint at him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I remember the version of you who glared at me every time I disagreed with a shot,” he murmurs. “Who used to call me emotionally constipated. And now you’re here… in my bed, wearing my shirt, blushing over your own feelings like I don’t already know every version of you.”

You make a strangled noise. “See! That’s another thing! You say stuff like that and my brain short circuits. I’m supposed to be good with words, but nooo, I just go all—” You wave your hands helplessly, making an unintelligible noise.

He’s laughing now, full chest laugh, eyes crinkling, and it only makes it worse because you love that laugh, and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you groan, flopping back down again.

He shifts, laying beside you, propping his head on one hand while the other traces idle shapes against your arm.

“No, you don’t,” he says easily.

He leans in close again, his grin gentler now. “I know you’re shy. I know you ramble. I know you pretend to be annoyed when you’re just flustered. And I know you love me. Because I love you back, exactly like this.”

You sigh, tucking into his side with a dramatic groan. “Ugh. Fine. Be perfect. Whatever.”

He laughs again, pulling you closer. “Keep talking. It’s my favorite sound.”

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him, chin resting on his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble.

He hums. “Mm?”

You trace a lazy line on the fabric of his shirt. “Remember when you said I drove you crazy?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, glancing down at you. “Yeah.”

You squint at him. “You still think that?”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are already soft. “Of course.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Rude.”

“But now it’s worse,” he says, barely biting back a laugh.

“Worse?!” you squawk, smacking his chest lightly. “Wow. So glad I flew in early to support you. Really feeling appreciated right now.”

He catches your wrist easily and kisses the inside of it before lacing your fingers together again. “Let me finish.”

You glare. “This better be a recovery arc, Jeon.”

Wonwoo shifts onto his side, face close, nose brushing yours, his voice low and serious in a way that melts your bones every time. 

“It’s worse now because I don’t just think about kissing you. Or arguing with you until you cave. Or watching you ramble while you wave your hands like you're trying to fly off the bed.”

You blink. “...okay, those are all very specific.”

He smiles. “I think about you being in my life all the time. Like… routines. Mornings. Groceries. Long drives. You showing up when I don’t expect it, ruining my peace in the best possible way.”

He tugs you a little closer. “So yeah. You still drive me crazy. But now it’s the kind of crazy where I don’t want anything else.”

You stare. Then, deadpan, “Wow.”

Wonwoo lifts a brow. “What?”

You grin. “You are getting romantic.”

He sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You lean up and kiss him quick, all smile. “No. You’re lucky you’re mine.”

His hand curls against your back. “That too.”

And somehow, even when the silence returns, your heart’s louder than ever.

=

Six months later.

You’re both standing at the edge of a rooftop late evening. Wonwoo’s camera hangs lazily from his neck, forgotten for now. You’re nursing two plastic cups of terrible rooftop wine. Your coat is buttoned halfway, your hand is in his.

You both worked late, again. Another campaign, another rush deadline. But it’s different now.

The tension’s still there, sure. You still argue over color tones and layout space and whether the tagline needs to be six words or five. But now he kisses you in the middle of those arguments, presses your notes against your chest with a grin and says, “Wrong. But passionate.”

He drives you home every night. Sometimes you stay up eating ramen barefoot in his kitchen. Sometimes you fall asleep mid-sentence on his couch, and he tucks you in, then stays awake just to finish editing with you curled up beside him.

“Hey,” he says now, bumping your shoulder as you lean into the rail.

“Hmm?”

He doesn’t look at you. “Remember the first campaign we worked on together?”

You groan, loudly. “Do not bring that up—”

“You kept fighting with me over that blue backdrop,” he says, already smirking.

“I was right, and you know it.”

He chuckles, sips from his cup. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That we used to only know each other through disagreements.” He turns to face you fully. “And now I know what your voice sounds like when you’re half-asleep. I know you hog the blanket and always re-watch the same three movies when you’re stressed. I know you ramble when you’re happy, and fake-annoyed when you’re overwhelmed.”

You blink, a little caught off guard. “...Where’s this coming from?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Just thinking.”

You stare at him, heart catching. “You’ve gotten sappy.”

“Blame you.”

You smile, stepping closer until your nose brushes his sweater. “Blame me all you want. You’re the one who fell.”

He doesn’t answer that. Just lets his hand slide around your waist, pulling you in gently.

And then, after a beat— “Got something for you.”

You look up. “Right now?”

He nods, pulling a folded envelope from his coat pocket. Your brows furrow. “Is this another print? You know I’m running out of wall space—”

“Open it,” he says, quiet.

You do.

Inside is a photo, your photo. The two of you, standing outside the gallery from months ago. You hadn’t realized someone captured it: the way you were holding hands, forehead to his chest, mid-laugh. You, looking up at him like he hung the moon. Him, looking back like he’d never wanted anything more.

It’s simple. And perfect.

“Wanted to give you something that wasn’t for work,” he says. “No concept. No shadows. Just… us.”

You blink once. Twice. Then you tackle him, nearly sloshing your wine onto his shoes, arms around his neck, photo clutched in your hand.

“I love you, you idiot,” you whisper.

He just holds you tighter.

And the city keeps blinking beneath you both, but up here—it's still. Time paused exactly where you’re meant to be.

[sluttyminghao]

wonwoo + premature ejaculation 🤲 plssssss

i gotchu bae

You hadn’t even meant to take it that far, not yet anyway. It had all started with you simply teasing him in his lap, straddling him over the couch cushions, and your fingertips trailing along the line of his jaw, with your voice low against his ear.

“You always act so quiet and calm,” you whisper, your hips rolling once, deliberately and slowly. “I wonder what it takes to break you...just a little.”

Wonwoo groans, the sound low and sharp, with his hands digging into your hips. But you see it: the tension in his jaw, and the way his thigh muscles tighten beneath you.

He’s already close, too close, and he knows it.

“Don’t...” he huffs, his breath catching as you shift again, “...don’t move like that unless you mean it.” You grin, brushing your lips against his, featherlight. “Why not?”

He opens his mouth to warn you again, but as you rock your hips forward again and press down on him in just the right way, his head tips back with a choked gasp. Then… complete stillness.

There's a long second pause before anything happens. His hands are clutching onto you tightly, with his chest rising and falling too fast.

“…Wait.”

You blink. “Wait, did you?”

He doesn’t answer you at first, instead opting to hide his face against your collarbone, muscular arms tightening around you like he wants to disappear into the furniture.

You feel the heat spreading through him, the wetness seeping through layers of clothes, and the very real aftermath of your teasing. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

You can’t help it, you laugh, a breathless laugh that has tears pricking at your eyes. “Already?” He groans again, this time in pure shame. “You were doing that on purpose.”

“What, just a little grinding?” you murmur against his collarbone sweetly. “I thought you could handle me, Wonwoo.”

His grip tightens, but not in an angry way, instead turning needy and embarrassed. He's still throbbing beneath you. “You were talking in my ear,” he accuses, flustered and cheeks pink. “You...said I was quiet. You know what that does to me.”

You smile, fingers carding through his hair. “You came so fast, baby…”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but he’s already kissing your neck, licking into your skin like he has something to prove. You hum. “You gonna make it up to me?”

His eyes flick up, dark and hungry as they meet yours. “Lie back,” he growls, pulling you down with him. “I’ll ruin your bedsheets."

[yjhzies]

“Come back, please.” — JWW

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . est relation . cute

⋆ pairings : wonwoo x gn!reader ⋆ warning : none! (I hope so) ⋆ wc : 0.6k [✉️] · Your bf claims to have missed you alot, not wanting you to leave his side.

⋆ - note : UGH I love the thought of a clingy Wonwoo 😽😽 he would be so pookie coded | tysm @arkynz 4 the req!! <3

You were up a lot earlier than usual, and didn't want to wake Wonwoo up because he had just come back from a tour yesterday. So you decided to visit the corner shop that newly opened nearby your shared apartment. The advertisements were pretty good and you wanted to check it out yourself.

Just as you were looking at what to buy, the phone in your hand rang with a notification - Wonwoo texted you. You weren't expecting him to be awake so early, especially after he kept mumbling how exhausted he was while resting in your embrace yesterday.

[Today · 8:23 AM]

Wonuu 🎀 : where did you go

Wonuu 🎀 : you're not here?

You smiled, sliding your fingers on the keyboard, typing a response.

You : I'm out in the corner shop baby

You : I thought you'd sleep in today

Your phone rang again - he immediately replied.

Wonuu 🎀 : come back

Wonuu 🎀 : please :(

Just when you were about to reply, your phone started to ring - he was calling.

"Baby," he called out, his voice groggy with sleep. "Why did you leave..."

"I thought you'd sleep for some time," you responded, paying for the food you bought as you made your way out of the store. "I'm coming, okay?"

"Please, come fast," he mumbled, and you could hear the pout in his voice. Silence soon followed after.

This wasn't how Wonwoo was usually. He didn't mind you waking up before him, going to the shop without telling him or leaving him alone at home while he was sleeping - but since yesterday, he had been clingy. Refusing to let go of you as he held you tight and buried his face into your neck. He did tell you a thousand times that he missed you, a lot, but you didn't think to this extent.

You, of course, didn't mind.

You carefully opened the front door, walking in and placing the food boxes on the table. The house was unusually quiet - quiet like when one of you was sleeping or either not here.

As you made your way to your shared bedroom, you found Wonwoo buried in his blanket, cheek squished by the pillow he was resting his head on, his eyes tightly shut. His face was a light shade of pink, and as you walked closer to him, you felt the warmth radiating off his body.

"Wonu?" You softly called out, careful not to startle him. You sat on his side of the bed - as he was sleeping on yours - and gently brushed the hair strands away from his face. His cheeks were warm, and you could tell he had been under the blankets for some time.

The small act made him shift a little, making you notice his phone was still in his hand.

You carefully slide it out of his grip, placing it on the nightstand.

"Baby-" Wonwoo suddenly mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. He stretched his arms, reaching out to you.

"Did I wake you up? Sorry," you whisper, scooting closer to him.

He shook his head, making his hair messier in the process, and gently wrapped his arms around your waist in a loose grip.

Wonwoo mumbled something under his breath that sounded like 'lay down with me', and you didn't wait for him to repeat it as you adjusted yourself next to him.

He smiled with his eyes closed, snuggling closer to comfortably rest his head on your chest. He gently took your hand and placed it on his head, silently telling you to caress it.

"Don't leave me alone next time,"

"Did you miss me that much?"

"Hm, I did..."

His soft heatbeats matched with yours as he quietly dozed off in the warmth of your embrace. Maybe you liked this side of your boyfriend the most. Maybe you liked the way he thought of every way to be by your side at all times.

[svtiddiess]

Precious Paws | Masterlist

Wonwoo, a black cat hybrid, and Mingyu, a golden retriever hybrid, have completely taken over your life—but you’re not complaining. Here are little glimpses into your days with these clingy and lovable hybrids.

Pairing: black cat hybrid!Wonwoo x afab!reader x golden retriever hybrid!Mingyu

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, suggestive, hybrid! au

Series Warnings: mentions of knives, very minor injury, mentions of blood

Note: This series will contain drabbles, oneshots, and headcanons. It'll be an ongoing series and will be updated whenever I'm in my Meanie feels!

Thank you twin @tomodachiii for helping me out with the banner!

Click here to join the series taglist!

Click here to join my general taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Cats And Cuddles 🐾 Wonwoo is a possessive kitty who can’t stand it when you smell like anyone else but him. That’s why it’s so important for him to cling to you the moment you walk through the door. 🐾 Pairing: black cat hybrid!Wonwoo x human!afab!reader 🐾 Genre: fluff, hybrid! au, drabble 🐾 Warnings: showering together (but nothing sexual happens!)

🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾

Puppies And Possessions 🐾 You bring home a new addition to the family…but Wonwoo isn’t too happy about it. 🐾 Pairing: black cat hybird!Wonwoo x afab!reader x golden retriever hybrid!Mingyu 🐾 Genre: angst, fluff, non-idol! au, hybrid! au, oneshot, series 🐾 Warnings: possessive Wonwoo

🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾 🐈‍⬛ 🐕 🐾

Resolve And Reconcile 🐾 Wonwoo's a stubborn kitty, but Mingyu's a determined puppy—he'll do whatever it takes to break down Wonwoo's walls. 🐾 Pairing: black cat hybird!Wonwoo x afab!reader x golden retriever hybrid!Mingyu 🐾 Genre: fluff, non-idol! au, hybrid! au, oneshot, series 🐾 Warnings: mentions of knives, very minor injury, mentions of blood

[shineesbackbitches]

Lip Tint Stains and Hair Ties

౨ৎ summary: “He locked his gaze in front of him, unable to gather the wits to gauge your reaction. His round glasses had slipped further down his nose than he preferred them, but he made no effort to correct their resting place. Wonwoo’s vision had always been complete garbage, and the time he spent focused on video games had not served his eyesight for the better. His glasses were cute though, and you’d told him as much the first time he wore them around you. Overall, he felt neutral about his frames, but being able to clearly see the board at the front of the classroom, the leaves on trees, and the smaller details of your face he hadn’t noticed without them were enough to convince him to wear them consistently. (“Since when did you have like, individual eyelashes?” “You mean like, how everyone does?” “… Huh.” “You knew people have individual lashes. Wonwoo, you knew people have individual lashes, right?”)”

౨ৎ pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

౨ৎ genre: childhood friends to lovers, school, college, slow burn, fluff, one shot, peachesndreams

౨ৎ word count: 11.5k

౨ৎ warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, insecurities, high school sports (repulsive I know), orientation week bullshit, kissing, pretty tame making out, one gross incel, reader really grows into her menace (good for her), the tension between these two is enough to make Mingyu cry, fluffy hair Wonwoo our collective beloved, two brief mentions of choking but not in the sexy kinda way, Soonyoung and Jihoon bickering

౨ৎ author note: a little love letter for my fellow Carats <3 There, there Besties

From the time you began attending school, you always walked back home together— you and Wonwoo. Coincidentally, when clubs became a mandatory thing (something about the school administration promoting ‘holistic, well-rounded, there’s-more-to-life-than-grades-but-we’ll-pull-you-out-of-participating-in-your-club-activities-if-you-fall-below-a-B-minus-in-a-class’ students), you ended up in clubs that finished at the same time. You even ended up attending the same university, and would shuffle back to your dorms from late night library camp outs.

Wonwoo had always been a quiet kid, preferring to listen rather than contribute to conversations. He had no trouble entertaining himself either. You’d learned that it wasn’t that he lacked a personality— the guy was fucking hilarious— it just didn’t come out unless he was comfortable. He was just introverted and making friends wasn’t as easy for him as it was for other kids.

But were you really one to talk?

If you were in a self-reflective mood, you’d cop to being an eighth of a teaspoon more extroverted than Wonwoo. Large crowds were a major turn off, as were loud places. You needed to mentally prepare for a hang out with more than two other people. Going home immediately after school to co-exist in a room with Wonwoo was more appealing than joining a group of classmates to venture into the busiest shops your hometown had to offer for trendy Insta pics. It was safe to say you were as much of an introvert as he was— plus, the two of you lived nearby and there were no other kids close to your age in the neighborhood. It was only natural that you would gravitate toward each other. So you grew familiar with the little boy with rounded cheeks, rumpled dark fringe, and chubby yet abnormally nimble hands (probably from the hours he spent immersed in gaming).

The difference between the two of you was that while Wonwoo wholeheartedly embraced his withdrawn nature, kept his tight-knit circle of friends, and basked in the comfort of frequent solitude, you made the effort to become more extroverted. What if people thought you were standoffish if you repeatedly declined their invites to outings? Would your classmates not like you anymore? Would they distance themselves from you?

The fear convinced you to agree to more spontaneous ventures far outside your comfort zone. You admittedly had fun with your friends, but it didn’t diminish the dread curling in the pit of your stomach leading up to the outing or the absolutely wiped daze in your eyes when you returned. The brutal cycle of social gathering followed by exhaustion repeated at a pace that completely obliterated any opportunity of recharging from the realm of possibilities.

You lasted a little over two months before retreating back to the familiar routine of walking home with Wonwoo to decompress after the long school day. The frequency of your adventures out with your friends reduced to a few a month, which was way more manageable for your limited social battery. Wonwoo hadn’t brought up the short-lived attempt, instead resuming the pattern of meeting up at the side entrance where towering trees cast shadows that spilled out across the concrete, the occasional splatter of sunlight poking through the branches. The conversation always flowed naturally with him, from goofy things your classmates did to the books you were reading lately (“You already bought it? Nice! Can I read it after you?” “Yeah, just don’t tell Jun I gave it to you. He already asked to borrow it, but you read faster than him.” “You’re my most favorite person in the whole world, Wonwoo.” “I know.”)

It was here that you determined that you and Wonwoo were each other’s safe space.

Not long after, Wonwoo’s baby fat disappeared from his face nearly overnight, replaced by a sharp jawline and a thin, long nose that accentuated the intensity of his eyes. He sprouted up at an alarming rate in comparison to his peers and, despite his willowy bone structure, he began to unintentionally intimidate others. It could be attributed to your shy disposition, but if you hadn’t already known Wonwoo before, you didn’t think you would have had the courage to approach him either. A laughable notion, really, considering how timid and gentle-hearted he was. Still, while he didn’t comment on his newly-perceived scariness, you knew he wasn’t exactly fond of his reputation.

You had the kind of friendship where you did small favors for each other all the time, so you decided to work your magic.

If your classmates saw a little bit of his less guarded side, maybe it would help him seem more approachable. After all, fear comes from the unknown, and Wonwoo didn’t readily disclose much about himself. No matter; you figured things could only go up from here.

“Do you want to eat lunch together tomorrow?” You glanced to your side where he was walking at a comfortable pace, carefully observing for slight changes in his expression or body language that indicated he wasn’t feeling up to it.

“I need to finish my Korean homework.” The subject wasn’t difficult for either of you, but Wonwoo tended to leave it until the class period before it was due. While you admired the confidence, you couldn’t stand the apprehension repeatedly ringing the doorbell of your subconscious when you had an incomplete assignment.

“We can work on it together.” You tried again, this time earning Wonwoo’s mildly suspicious gaze. Despite recently getting a hair cut, Wonwoo’s fringe grew at a quick pace and was already a few inches shy of completely concealing his forehead. Due to his grown out fringe, you couldn’t see his eyebrows, but you knew there was a furrow to them that wondered what you were up to.

“I guess we can do it tonight then.” He relented despite knowing you’d completed the assignment in class today. Wonwoo studied your face for a few beats, not understanding your unusual demand to spend the lunch period together. Were you overwhelmed by your rowdier friends? Was someone being an ass to you? Sure, you were pretty bashful when given attention, but you weren’t the type to let someone walk all over you. If it was too much, you’d tell someone before it escalated. Wonwoo decided to drop the matter and wait until tomorrow’s lunch period to press further.

You sat on the floor of his living room that evening, Wonwoo’s gangly legs folded crisscross on a plush floor pillow while you laid on your stomach just out of arm’s reach. He used a textbook as a flat surface to write on and you pretended to double, triple, and quadruple check that your answers were, in fact, correct for a subject you had a perfect grade in. In reality, you were performing mental gymnastics to solve Wonwoo’s predicament. You doubted eating lunch together would really improve his reputation significantly, especially since you were far from being the poster child for outgoing. Inviting him to join your friends was out of the question—they were too much even for you sometimes and you would never subject him to that. Maybe there was something he could at least enjoy doing that would earn him some positive PR.

“What?” He demanded, lips pursed slightly as he caught your attention on him and not the homework spread out on the floor before you. You just smiled in response, a cheeky little grin that Wonwoo could not for the life of him discern meaning from. All he knew was that you were definitely plotting and that he’d just have to accept that he was going to be along for the ride.

“You should check number four again.” Wonwoo advised.

“It’s right.” You responded blithely, not bothering to glance back at the worksheet.

“You sure about that decimal placement?” He prodded further, pressing his lips together in a thin line to stamp out the smile that threatened to break out.

“Uh-huh,” You insisted, just as unshakable as always. You batted your eyes a few times before grinning a little toothier than usual. “Are you done yet? You swore you’d play New Leaf with me.”

The impatient tilt of your head and the thrum of your fingers on your folded up arms was entertaining. Wonwoo smirked before turning his attention back to his already completed assignment. “Did I?”

“I’m gonna go play with your brother.” You pushed yourself up to your knees, already bouncing up to stretch out your ankles. “Bohyuk! Wanna pl—“

Just as quick as you’d called for his brother, Wonwoo’s hands flung out, palms up in surrender and nose scrunched up in distaste. “I was kidding! Don’t invite that.”

Lunch the following day was peaceful— uneventful even— as you spread out the contents of your lunchbox as fair game and Wonwoo followed suit. You peeked up at him while he helped himself to the meat in your container, fidgeting with the strap that held your lunchbox closed and twirling it around your pointer fingers. Just before you could open your mouth to begin the conversation, Wonwoo beat you to it.

“How are your friends?” He questioned, expression trained neutral, seemingly in the interest of making small talk. Wonwoo fishing for information was about as subtle as a brick wall, but you seemed to perk up at the topic. Unknowingly, he’d made this much easier for you to bring up. The lanky fool had played right into your hands.

“Great!” You chirped, eyes bright as you leaned across the table towards him. “One of them asked about you actually! Wants to know if you’d play basketball with him.”

This is so not where Wonwoo thought this conversation was going. Still, he decided to entertain the idea since you seemed excited about it.

“Which friend?” He asked tentatively, utensils resting on his lunch box. He fought the urge to scrunch his nose up in distaste, lest he clue you in that he was planning on declining.

You blinked a few times, buying yourself a couple seconds to formulate your answer so it wouldn’t result in an immediate refusal. ��Um, you know the tall, goofy one who choked when he tried to drink milk through his nose becau—“

“Mingyu plays basketball?” Wow, Mingyu had really made a name for himself and hey! That wasn’t an outright no! Sure, he was a bit of a dumbass at times, but he was a good friend and fun to be around. In small doses. Spaced out. Super spaced out.

He’d love Wonwoo!

And Wonwoo would… probably be okay.

“Yeah! He really wants another person to play with and you’re pretty good.” You were laying it on thick with the compliments, fanning the flame of his ego to convince him that this commitment would result in absolutely no regrets. Your hands balled into tight fists as you stared at Wonwoo hopefully, the reflection of the sunlight gleaming in your eyes.

His mouth pursed in contemplation and a thick silence blanketed the air in the room. Then, he retrieved his abandoned chopsticks from their place balanced on the edge of his lunch box and breathed out, “Alright” before digging back into your lunch.

With a satisfied nod, you scooped up your own set of chopsticks and immediately delved into the spinach salad Wonwoo packed. You hummed appreciatively, the corners of your lips tilting up in a satisfied smile.

In the following weeks, Wonwoo joined Mingyu a few times a week on the basketball court. Just as you suspected, learning that the tall, reserved, and intimidating looking Wonwoo enjoyed basketball was enough for your classmates to drop the narrative that he was unapproachable. That said— his social circle didn’t expand much, but he was quite compatible with Mingyu. The slight tension in his shoulders relaxed and the tightness of his jaw released once he wasn’t overly conscious of how other people perceived his choice to keep to himself.

Another unexpected outcome of this development was that when club activities became mandatory, Wonwoo didn’t have to agonize over what club to choose. He and Mingyu signed up for basketball together without much thought.

Meanwhile, you joined the volleyball club. In all honesty, Wonwoo hadn’t seen it coming. Absolutely zero shots fired about your athletic abilities, but he hadn’t seen you play. Like, ever. His loss apparently, because the team captain was over the moon about the talent you brought to the team.

“When did you start playing volleyball?” He inquired on your journey home. There was an oddly shaped jumble of unease that fought for space in his chest against his ribcage at the realization that there was something about you he didn’t know. He was an observant person. How could he not know that he had been friends with an ace volleyball player for this long? It was a major blow to his pride.

“I never really played,” You began your explanation with a light shrug of your shoulders. “Like, I helped a friend practice a ton and learned something I guess.” You reasoned uncertainly, a contemplative tilt of your head as you didn’t quite comprehend this skill you possessed out of left field.

Oh, okay. So he wasn’t inattentive. You were just a fucking prodigy. Good to know.

“Let me know when you have a match.” Your eyes darted to his at the unexpected request and Wonwoo curled his hands into the long sleeves of his jacket before continuing. “I want to see you play.”

He locked his gaze in front of him, unable to gather the wits to gauge your reaction. His round glasses had slipped further down his nose than he preferred them, but he made no effort to correct their resting place. Wonwoo’s vision had always been complete garbage, and the time he spent focused on video games had not served his eyesight for the better. His glasses were cute though, and you’d told him as much the first time he wore them around you. Overall, he felt neutral about his frames, but being able to clearly see the board at the front of the classroom, the leaves on trees, and the smaller details of your face he hadn’t noticed without them were enough to convince him to wear them consistently. (“Since when did you have like, individual eyelashes?” “You mean like, how everyone does?” “… Huh.” “You knew people have individual lashes. Wonwoo, you knew people have individual lashes, right?”)

“Okay.” You agreed easily, pressing your lips together lightly to stamp out the smile threatening to curl the corners of your mouth.

The attention awarded to you for joining club volleyball came from not just your own class, but others too. If you were aware of any of it, Wonwoo noted no indication of it— as far as he could tell, you loved the purely recreational sport and that was that. He didn’t doubt that you were a wonderful player, but a lot of the attention had been created by your team captain who missed no opportunity to boast about his team in general. According to other classmates, you more than lived up to the hype and Wonwoo wanted to see this unexplored side of you and support it.

It quickly became evident that other people were interested in seeing unexplored sides of you as well.

In a completely unsubtle way that only Mingyu could manage, he asked Wonwoo during basketball practice if you were talking to anyone.

“How would I know?” Wonwoo scrunched his nose in bewilderment. “She’s in volleyball now, not here.” He lunged for the basketball in Mingyu’s possession, fingertips just grazing the bumpy texture before Mingyu pivoted out of reach. While Wonwoo was one of the tallest at your school, Mingyu had hit a major growth spurt early on as well and stood a couple inches above him. Where Wonwoo was more lithe in frame, Mingyu was slightly broader. It was an interesting dynamic for basketball— Wonwoo’s speed and coordination against Mingyu’s strength and stamina— but it made the game entertaining.

An impatient groan ripped out of Mingyu, his head tossed back in irritation. “No, you—“ He sucked in a grounding breath, gathering his remaining shreds of sanity. In this moment, Wonwoo nabbed the ball from Mingyu, tauntingly bouncing it close enough to lure him to make a grab for it. “I mean like, does she like anyone? And I mean like like.” He quickly added on the clarification, unwilling to sit through Wonwoo’s journey of comprehension.

Wonwoo ceased dribbling, straightening up. He lifted a hand to dab at the sweat pooling around his temple and slicking his hair to his forehead to process the question. “How come?” He inspected Mingyu, a defensive edge narrowing his eyes and hardening his gaze. It was different from the steely quality he possessed while playing— while that one was impartial, this one was more personal and unnerving.

“A guy— well, a couple guys wanted to know.” Mingyu shrugged off the imposing weight of his stare, carefully noting Wonwoo’s reactions in turn. Wonwoo could tell by the twitch of his mouth and the rigidness of his spine that Mingyu wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Smart.

“She’s not interested.” End of conversation. Wonwoo resumed dribbling, faking the intent to try and weave past Mingyu’s arm that belatedly stretched out to block him, only to take the shot from right there over Mingyu’s head.

A clean shot.

“Man!” Mingyu whined, shaking his head in a way that spoke of betrayal and heartbreak. “Cold blooded.”

At least— Wonwoo thought you weren’t interested.

“You go on ahead,” You waved him forward, the strap of your school bag slipping off your shoulder and into the crook of your elbow. “I have a quick thing to do.”

Wonwoo turned back to face you, fists squeezed deep in his jacket pockets where his hand warmers were nestled. You hadn’t made plans with your friends— you would have left from school with them if you had. Were you meeting someone?

“I’ll come with.” Your eyes shifted nervously to the side and your teeth dug into your bottom lip. The tip of your nose was bitten red from the wind and your entire form quivered from the sting of the cold.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick.” You tried again, gesturing over your shoulder toward the way you were headed. Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed at your blatant attempts at evasion. It was fine if you were going to see someone, he just would rather you be upfront about it instead of hiding it from him. You didn’t keep each other in the dark and you certainly didn’t avoid each other either.

“Then let’s be quick.” Wonwoo insisted, already striding in the direction of your detour. You begrudgingly relented, huffing irritably and shuffling quickly to pass him and lead the way.

Wonwoo blinked at you, really wondering if his vision was actually bad enough to flat out hallucinate. He anxiously glanced around at the (blessedly) mostly empty store and back to your form seated on the tile floor in the aisle. Like, not even crouched to look at something stocked at the lower level— no, ass fully sat on the linoleum.

“What are you doing?” He breathed out, weight shifting back and forth between his feet nervously. You scrunched your long sock as far down toward your ankle as it would go, a handful of display products balanced in your hand in addition to a dozen q-tips. Wonwoo shuffled closer to you in an attempt to conceal your at best questionable behavior from the sole employee occupied with her phone at the checkout counter and the few wandering customers. From above, he observed you pop the lid of a tester, carefully collect some product with the q-tip, and hunch over to swipe it just above your ankle bone.

“Hey,” He hissed then, jerkily nudging you with his knee as a demand for your attention and answer.

“It’ll leave a stain on my wrist and I’ll get caught.” You explained, unwilling to be more cooperative with the guy who refused to let you make this trip solo. You tried to get him to go home, and now he had to live with his conces quencing. Neither of the two colors you tried so far stirred anything in your heart. You discarded the q-tip in the waste bin stationed near you and repeated your process.

“It’ll leave a stain when you wear it and you’ll get caught.” Wonwoo reasoned, a desperate clip to his tone.

“Not if I find one that’s close to my lip color.” You denied reality. Wonwoo paused for a brief moment to consider whether or not you heard yourself. There was nothing really wrong with shopping for a tinted lip balm (even though he would prefer you to do it standing— you know, be socially acceptable and all that), but your school didn’t allow students to wear makeup. When were you even going to use this? You’d never even expressed interest in makeup until today. Once again, nothing criminal, but completely out of the blue.

“Why do you want that?” Wonwoo prodded in an effort to understand the mental gymnastics of it all. If he was being honest, he was still stuck on you seated on the floor.

“‘Cause if it’s close to my lip color, I might not be—“

“No,” He interrupted, pressing his fingers slightly below a brow to ease the beginnings of a pulsing headache away. He was abruptly empathetic to Mingyu for some inexplicable reason. “Like, why do you want it in general?”

“I don’t,” You began, attention fixed on the array of products gathered before you. Wonwoo still hovered behind you, waiting for the remainder of your reason. “I don’t like how I look after volleyball.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Because literally who did you know that looked good after club sports? Disheveled and out of breath was kind of the standard across the board. Also, he saw you right after clubs finished to walk home together everyday. You looked fine. Sure, not quite as put together as you were during classes, but your mussed hair and flushed cheeks were kind of charming— lively and youthful, even. The only people who even saw you were your teammates and him, so—

And Mingyu’s conversation from the basketball court snapped the missing puzzle pieces into place. Multiple guys were interested in you and were sneaking in to watch you practice. They were going as far to ask around about you, to the extent that they’d approached Mingyu to really approach him and dig for information about you. There was no way your social butterfly of a team captain hadn’t clocked it and immediately leaped at the opportunity to fill you in.

Did you like, like one of them?

“Trying to impress someone?” Wonwoo prodded, not quite successful in keeping the judgement at bay. His teeth grit together, trying to maintain a neutral expression despite you facing away from him. All at once, he wished that he could see your expression while simultaneously feeling relieved that he couldn’t.

“No, I just don’t like people staring at me when I look like that.” You fiddled with the lid of the lip balm, snapping it in and out of the closure groove.

So you were aware of the attention— too aware of it, in fact.

For someone so uncomfortable with other peoples’ gazes, you sure weren’t doing you— or him for that matter— any favors by parking yourself on the floor of a beloved cosmetic store in the early evening. But now was not the time to vocalize that thought when he had just scraped an insecurity out of you with about as much tenderness as he would have used trying to knock out the last bit of peanut butter from the bottom of the jar. So yeah, he was going to keep that one in the drafts for now.

There also wasn’t really any way for him to solve your problem. When it came down to it, insecurities were a battle fought with yourself. He doubted that anything he said or did would really resolve your feelings about yourself. That being said, he wasn’t going to withhold his thoughts or actions that might encourage the feelings to fade. He was also more than willing to hold the door open for them to leave and slam it shut on their way out.

Fuck the dumbasses who kept sneaking in to watch you practice and ignoring the fact that they were making you uncomfortable. And a little bit fuck your team captain too for allowing it to happen and even somewhat encouraging the behavior.

Wonwoo squatted down, hooking his large hands under your elbows, and scooped you into a standing position despite your bewildered fumbling. Once you were hauled up to your full height and turned around to face him, he abandoned his purchase on your elbows in favor of sandwiching your cheeks between his warm palms. Or maybe it was your cheeks that were warm? Either way, you were focused on him, maintaining eye contact for the first time since you’d left school that day. Wonwoo lightly shook your head, your cheeks squishing and eyes scrunching closed under his ambush. Once he was satisfied with his work, he stopped, waiting until your eyes blinked away the disorientation and opened to settle on him again.

“You’re pretty.”

It was quick, definitive, and without room for discussion. Before you could even fully process the previous five seconds, Wonwoo cut off any protests, hiking up his long sleeve on one arm to reveal a forearm splotched with a particularly nasty navy colored bruise.

“Ah, shit.” He tugged his sleeve back down over his knuckles, then switched to his other unblemished forearm. Both him and Mingyu were pretty abrasive basketball players and, with their combined lankiness and Mingyu’s net negative coordination due to his lack of spatial awareness, elbows and hands were destined to smack into the wrong places.

“Here.” Wonwoo extended his arm out to you. “They don’t check guys for makeup because they’re sexist.”

You stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. After a brief nod of encouragement, you quickly resumed your work. Your hand cradled his forearm, holding it steady as you brushed on ascending lines of lip product, tinting his skin various shades of pink. His skin was hot under your touch and felt fuzzier than the cotton swab. Eventually, after waffling between two shades that were essentially the same but actually just slightly different, you landed on your choice.

Wonwoo went to school the following day with an impressive gallery of stains streaked up his arm underneath his jacket, but only the two of you knew that.

You were caught wearing the tinted lip balm before the end of first period, your homeroom teacher demanding you scrub it off with a tissue. And as you inspected your appearance in the bathroom mirror, lips bare, there was an absence of inadequacy burrowing in your chest, instead replaced by a peaceful indifference. When you returned to class, the self-conscious slouch anchoring your arms to your sides had dissolved, but only the two of you noticed that.

Your team captain insisted that practices from now on be closed off to visitors, slamming the doors to the gym shut with no consideration for the students trying to sit in. He reasoned that the other students were a distraction and that if they were that interested in volleyball, then tryouts were scheduled for the third week of the next semester.

Wonwoo had been the one to make this request, but only he and your captain knew that.

Old habits either die hard or they don’t die at all, because even in university, your tradition of walking home together persisted. Freshman orientation was essentially hazing for introverts, and your silly orientation leaders decided to host a dinner for the incoming class— a thinly-veiled excuse to get fucking hammered beyond coherent speech. Plus, the schadenfreude of watching a group of kids experience their first and absolute worst time consuming alcohol was too good for them to pass up.

A little over an hour into the mandatory event, you were so beyond over the whole thing. You’d eaten your fill and stopped politely laughing at the upperclassmen who thought they were just so charming at least thirty minutes ago. Drinking was, as you expected, over-encouraged and heavily pressured. At one of the mentors’ insistence, you knocked a shot or two back and sent him stumbling back to the end of the table furthest away from you. It wasn’t your first time consuming alcohol, and you had no intention of exceeding your limit around a bunch of strangers. As far as you were concerned, they could suck it.

Wonwoo sat across from you, usually sharp eyes glazed over at an autographed picture on the wall of someone famous posing with the owner of the restaurant, jolly grins and peace signs thrown up. You shifted your weight, shuffling around in your seat to generate just enough movement in Wonwoo’s field of vision to snap his brain back from outer space. His blurred eyes honed in on you— he hadn’t participated in drinking with the upperclassmen either, also disinterested in drinking in the unfamiliar environment, yet cursed to exist in the moment all the same.

Slowly, intentionally, you blinked twice.

Want to ditch?

Wonwoo tilted his head to one side in what could have easily been a stretch of his neck.

Fuckin’ yeah, I do.

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering once to the door and back to him.

Sensational. At the same time.

Less then two seconds later, Wonwoo raised to his full hight while you swung your legs to the aisle created by the two long tables. He half-heartedly nodded to a few of the people around him that noticed he had stood, and you successfully slipped into an opening. Now that you were on your feet, the alcohol diffused to the rest of your limbs and head quicker than you anticipated— nothing concerning, you were just a little more buzzed than you planned to be. What a fantastic indicator that it was time to pack it up. With a brief flash of a smile and farewell to the kind-enough girl next to you, you made your swift exit to where Wonwoo waited for you at the end of the aisle.

The most genuine smile you had seen from him all evening quirked the corner of his lips up, and the dim, yellow lighting in the restaurant cast a warm glow in his dark eyes. He’d left his hair more rumpled than usual today, the gentle waves softened his appearance a bit, but still accentuated the crisp angles of his cheeks, jaw, and eyes. Gone were the last bits of gangly, awkward teenage proportions, instead developing into striking features of a charming young man. Since senior year of high school, Wonwoo had only sprung further upward, although unlike his middle school growth spurt, he had actually broadened considerably this time. The thing was— Wonwoo was kind of a walking dichotomy. He preferred oversized clothing that concealed the lines of his frame— it completely fooled everyone into thinking he was pretty lanky, but you knew that to be completely false. His form was large and imposing, both in height and broadness, but the changes in his build were only obvious when you stood this close to him. He chose to wear an oversized grey sweatshirt this evening that you’d seen many times before. The sleeves were stretched out from his tendency to tug them over his hands.

You trailed behind him as he blazed the path to the door. Wonwoo pushed the door open, a rush of biting night air dropping your internal temperature substantially. He stepped outside, holding the door open for you to pass through. Just as you moved to cross the threshold, the girl that sat next to you called out, “Get home safely!” You turned to acknowledge her, and your coordination must have been more influenced than you had initially realized, because your foot caught on the ledge protruding from the doorframe. You gasped and braced for unforgiving concrete and a banger of a concussion during syllabus week.

Wonwoo lunged— legitimately lunged— to secure your shoulders in his arms. The back of your head thudded against his chest and your back flattened against his torso. Your fingers latched onto Wonwoo’s sturdy arms suspending you just above the concrete and you huffed in deep breaths to regain your bearings. Holy shit.

“You okay?” Wonwoo’s round glasses had shifted down in the scuffle, balanced precariously at the tip of his nose.

Still disoriented and searching for your center of gravity, you breathed out, “Yeah, yeah— I’m okay.”

Gingerly, Wonwoo straightened into an upright position, bringing you with him. To your credit, you only fumbled slightly when searching for purchase with the soles of your shoes.

“Go a little too hard a little too fast?” He was joking, poking lighthearted fun at the circumstances of the entirely avoidable situation. His hesitant grin was partially contained by residual concern for your physical wellbeing— sure, he’d saved you from a cold greeting courtesy of the concrete, but did you twist your ankle on the ledge?

“Should’ve gone faster, harder.” You quipped, giggling at the absurdity of the last three hours. Wonwoo squatted down beside you, carefully taking your hand nearest to him and guiding it to rest on his shoulder for stability in the event that you toppled over for a second time that night. Despite the chill of the air seeping through your clothing, an unfamiliar heat sweltered in your bones. You wondered if Wonwoo could feel it pulsing at your fingertips where they pressed into the well-worn material of his sweatshirt, but his attention was preoccupied with your ankle. The bottom of your pant leg was rolled up a few times, and Wonwoo’s long, slender fingers prodded at the exposed skin with a tenderness that absorbed the strength in your knees— you’d have fully buckled onto his broad shoulder had you been fueled by anything other than spite to remain standing.

“How does this feel?” He peered up at you, the question visible in his dark eyes, all the while smoothing languid circles into your ankle with his thumb the same way he toggled on his game controller. The weight of his gaze seemed foreign, not quite suffocating, but somewhat sultry. It was an oddly sensual moment, and you didn’t know what to make of that. Probably the alcohol doing its rose-tinted thing.

“It feels good.” You answered more truthfully than he would ever know. But the street outside a restaurant overflowing with your peers was not the place to unpack that. He unrolled your pant leg, tugging it back into place before standing again and insisting that you two get going and escape the cold. You weren’t cold, and you could make out the slight glow of sweat on Wonwoo’s skin, but you chalked it up to the exertion of his impressive dive mere minutes ago.

In all of the years you spent with Wonwoo, you could count the number of times he’d caught you off guard on one hand. He was a man of habit and predictability— it was familiar and cozy, and you appreciated the reliability of him. He hadn’t changed, still the same in his careful, intentional movements, but he somehow knocked you completely off-kilter that night on the sidewalk.

Metaphorically speaking, in this instance.

You, on the other hand, were a bit of a wild card in Wonwoo’s eyes. He knew you well— like he knew the layout of his house well enough to slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a glass of water without flipping any lights on. But every so often, there would be something that wasn’t present before. He would smack into it, take a moment to process the new entity, maybe feel around and familiarize himself with it, and then carry on as usual. To date, the discovery that you were an excellent volleyball player remained the most prominent surprise in his memory.

Nearly two months into your freshman year of college, you blew that one out of the water.

Wonwoo approached you from behind while you were perched at one of the large desktops in the library. He could tell you had a document open— even with his shit vision, there was no mistaking that layout and that obnoxious shade of blue that triggered every students’ fight or flight instinct. But you were missing the anguish of someone writing a paper, no tense hunch to your shoulders or irritated furrow of your brow. Instead, you seemed at ease, reclining easily into the back of the chair, expression focused but neutral. Your movements were unhurried as you navigated your screen with the pitiful library mouse held together by oddly crinkled scotch tape.

What the hell were you working on?

“Hey,” He murmured in greeting, conscious of the people working around you. But then he got a glimpse of your computer screen, and in contrast to your unbothered form, Wonwoo became the embodiment of immediate, deep, bottom-of-the-soul resentment. Pulled up proudly on display were screenshots of some of the most heinous, crude, and honest to god incriminating text messages he’d ever read. His jaw clenched, teeth gritting together painfully at the unimaginably inappropriate names and descriptions littered throughout the one-sided chat. Wonwoo’s eyes pierced the name of the sender exhibited at the top of the screen like he could somehow impale them through the bubble of their initial. He didn’t know them, but he was about to. At the beginning of the thread was a single message from you, a polite and firm decline of an invitation to “hang at his place.” The animosity simmered in the pit of his stomach, boiling up his chest and scalding his throat and tongue as he snarled, “What the fuck?!”

You twisted around in your chair, taking in Wonwoo’s rare hostility and the attention it earned you from other people in the library. His low timbre was always soothing to listen to, but the abrupt change from still waters to rough husk was a commanding force.

“Hi,” You beamed up at him, eyes practically twinkling, apparently unaffected by the images on your screen.

“Who the hell is this loser?” He bit, cheekbones more angled than typical as he hollowed his cheeks. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, a futile attempt at keeping the malice at bay. Wonwoo was many things, but above ripping this guy a new asshole? Certainly not.

“Oh,” You swiveled to glance back at the screen, sure enough, the incel vomit remained on the monitor where you left it. With practiced ease, you quickly resized the final screenshot in the series, enlarging it to a near comical degree. “Just a silly goose.”

Wonwoo stood stewing in silence as you clicked file and selected print with a too-cheerful click of the barely-holding-on mouse. He had maybe just short of a million questions firing rapidly internally. How did you even meet this guy? Did you have classes with him? Where did he live? Was he deathly allergic to anything? No, not for any particular reason, just curious. Does he walk home alone at night? How long had he been bothering you?

The only question he managed to voice was, “Why are you making these, like, gigantic?”

That was when he noticed that the sparkle in your eyes this entire time had been mischief. The grin you flashed was significantly wider than your natural smile, and possessed a rascality he hadn’t seen you wear before. It looked sickly saccharine and promised chaos. You looked ferocious. It looked good on you.

“How else is his grandmother gonna read it?”

Wonwoo’s heart swelled with pride. It pumped into the organ until it reached its maximum capacity and expanded until his chest ached in elation. Of course you were going to rock this guy’s shit. And in front of his family no less. Wonwoo physically could not contain the cackles that erupted from the bottom of his stomach, folding over at the waist from the force. He clutched at your shoulders in an attempt to remain standing and gasped in shuddering breaths. Eyes crinkled closed, nose scrunched upward, and smile lines on display, Wonwoo seemed to have unlocked a new level of joy.

“You are just fucking magnificent.” He praised in adoration, planting an affectionate kiss on your forehead. You short-circuited at the warmth that bloomed from the press of his lips on your skin.

This was new. You weren’t even sure it actually happened for a few beats, convincing yourself you’d simply imagined Wonwoo bending over you in the library to kiss you. Wonwoo kissed you. Like it was normal. And you couldn’t short-circuit in front on him because then it wouldn’t be normal.

Rapidly, you snapped back into the moment, coyly tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “Aren’t I just?” A large hand buried itself in your hair at the top of your head, giving it a playful ruffle. Wonwoo smoothed out the bumps he had created immediately after, delicately combing his fingers through and working out the minor tangles.

He was still going to rip this guy a new asshole.

After the incident outside the restaurant and especially after the moment in the library, there was an obvious shift in the dynamic of your relationship. Or maybe your relationship had changed before then and you just hadn’t picked up on it. Because while you were second guessing every action, word, and expression, Wonwoo seemed entirely in his element— unfazed even. It seemed that kissing your best friend was an entirely normal thing for him to do, despite having never done it before and generally not being all that open to physical affection.

You didn’t want to be uncomfortable around Wonwoo— he had been your safe space for as long as you could remember. But the once-clear waters of your relationship had turned murky and tricky to navigate. More disorienting was the fact that Wonwoo wasn’t uncomfortable. At least if he had been, you could acknowledge whatever this weird, new thing was and figure this out together. But you couldn’t bring it up like this and risk Wonwoo denying that anything was different between the two of you.

Things were different though. Like, was Wonwoo auditioning for the role of boyfriend or something? Because while he had always been attentive, things were escalating at a dizzying, heart-fluttering pace.

Wonwoo seemed to always have a hair tie around his wrist— always had since he witnessed you struggle to eat without your hair slipping into your face when you were kids and heard you grumble that you forgot one for volleyball. He’d offer you the hair tie and you’d gush out something appreciative along the lines of, “As expected, you’d never let me down.” Even now, he’d unhook the elastic from his wrist on particularly windy days, or when he’d watched you toss your hair back one too many times when you were studying, presenting it to you in his outstretched palm. You hadn’t thought much of the sweet gesture until now.

The escalation of this routine came when Wonwoo began tying your hair for you, wordlessly gathering your hair with long, nimble fingers and securing it low and loose out of your way; he always avoided wrapping it too tightly or too high, anxious of causing you a tension headache. The brush of his warm hands always brought you back to where you sat in the library, processing his kiss and affectionate touches. The tips of his fingers would sweep the sensitive skin of your neck from behind and you would still, anticipating the pressure of his lips against your heated skin again. But it never happened.

Overall, Wonwoo was more touchy lately— not exactly a high hurdle— and you just didn’t know how to act. You know— other than soak it up. You were more than receptive to being spoiled by his physical affection, be it platonic or romantic. After fumbling through the first week of the new development of sides pressed together, tender hands brushing hair out of your face, and the light pressure of his chin resting atop your head when he approached you from behind, you decided to return it enthusiastically and see if you could finally force Wonwoo’s hand.

You found him reading while leaving one of your classes, his form relaxed on one of the benches that lined the courtyard. His neck was craned down, attention focused on his class reading, expression neutral. Despite still being deemed intimidating and off-putting by those who never spoke to him, Wonwoo was undeniably dashing in his quiet confidence. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw only became more accentuated during college (perhaps a result of the poor college student diet) and his already-penetrating eyes intensified when he chose to forego glasses for contacts— which wasn’t very often.

You detoured out of his line of vision to close in on his back, careful to keep your steps light. Successfully avoiding popping him out of his study bubble, you looped your arms over his wide shoulders, leaned into his back, and chimed his name in greeting. Immediately, he tilted his head up to meet your eyes with a lopsided grin, his eyes twinkling knowingly— Wonwoo could smell your shampoo wafting in the comfortable breeze as you neared. Now, with the close contact of your skin, he could smell the light moisturizer you had used since you were in middle school. He permitted himself a deep inhale, reveling in the clean, fresh scent.

“Hey,” He greeted, voice low and clear. The faint wind ruffled his hair— he had allowed it to grow longer than it’d ever been before, which still wasn’t very long, but the waves grazed his eyes in airy wisps. “Good class?”

You hummed affirmatively, taking the opportunity to card your fingers through his tousled hair with a practiced ease like you’d done it for as long as you’d known him. He dissolved into your touch, clicking his tablet off and trading his classwork for your attention.

“Vibe night?” He asked like you had ever previously declined or planned to decline a night spent relaxing together at one of your places. It was just like how you would retreat home from school to one of your living rooms to do homework, read, play video games, or whatever in each other’s presence growing up. The escalation here yet again entailed increased physical contact and noticeably domestic undertones. Some days you’d accompany one another grocery shopping for dinner and snacks before kicking the night off.

On days where the academic grind had vacuumed the life force out of the both of you, it was a detour to a restaurant to get takeout. You had your go-to spots that you rotated through, dependent on the weather and your moods. By now, the employees recognized your pair and your typical orders. One of the last times you’d visited during midterms two weeks back, the elderly owner of the Thai restaurant had been delighted when you stepped in, announcing joyfully that you had visited on couples night so he threw a dessert on the house into your to-go bag.

It wasn’t uncommon for the nature of your relationship to be misunderstood, so you began to gently correct the well-meaning man with a polite smile. Before you uttered a syllable, Wonwoo’s deep voice vibrated beside you, graciously thanking the owner and fluidly swiping the paper bag from the counter where your hand was stretched to curl around the handle. Instead, Wonwoo’s large hand not occupied with the to-go bag enveloped yours and on instinct, your fingers squeezed around his.

With a farewell and another ‘thank you so much!’ the two of you exited the restaurant hand-in-hand. You expected him to drop the act and by extension your hand once you were a decent distance away from the windows, but Wonwoo kept your hand secured in his the entire walk home— which you would never complain about. The temperature had dropped for the season and the sun had already set under the horizon, so you would soak up the extra warmth emitting from your joined hands, burrowed into his jacket pocket. You could always rely on Wonwoo to purchase the coziest clothing, always fleecy and pleasant against your skin. His coat did not disappoint, the fuzzy lining offering you an excuse for how overheated you felt with your hand engulfed in his.

But that was two weeks ago when you were still flustered by Wonwoo’s abrupt swell of affection. If you were being entirely honest, his affection still shot prickles down your spine and numbed your fingertips, but you at least knew to expect it by now. Now it was a matter of being capable of having the same effect on him.

“You already know.” You agreed easily, before tacking on. “Whenever and however you want me.” You were absolutely referring to what time he wanted to meet up and at whose apartment, but to pass on the double entendre was a wasted opportunity. Wonwoo’s form went rigid under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. The ‘error 404 Wonwoo not found’ pop up was clear in his abruptly vigilant eyes. Flashing him a smile that spoke of nothing abnormal in your choice of phrase, you wished him a good class, manifested him being let out early, and blew him a kiss in farewell, a bounce in your step as you retreated.

You got him. Was it enough to convince him to make his move? You’d fuck around and find out, you supposed.

Later when Wonwoo finished his last class— from which he did get let out twenty minutes early (“You are so welcome.” “We got out because we finished his material.” “Because I’m magic. You should be super nice to me and let me choose the game.” “You can choose the game because it’s your turn, not because you’re magic.”)— he trekked to the library where you were busting out an assignment at an alarming speed to gather you for the night. You snapped your laptop shut, reaching for your bag you’d hooked on the back of your chair, only to discover Wonwoo was already holding the edges open for you. With an appreciative grin, you slipped the laptop into the padded sleeve and zipped it closed. Wonwoo fixed the straps of your bag over his shoulder, ignoring your insistence that you could carry it yourself, and together you walked to his apartment. Tonight, you didn’t hold hands on the journey and there was no fuzzy electric charge to the moment. It was as it usually was, with soft laughter and quiet recounts of your days just like it always has been.

Everything was just like was before until you entered his apartment.

Wonwoo held the door open for you to pass through the threshold, slipping in behind you and hanging both of your bags on the empty hooks lining the entrance. You wiggled out of your well-broken-in sneakers without undoing the laces and reached for the shoe cabinet by the entrance, but Wonwoo beat you to it. He crouched before the cabinet and snagged your designated pair of slippers, wordlessly placing them by your feet. Once you swapped into the slippers, he threaded two fingers under the tongues of your sneakers and neatly set them in the cabinet. Then, he followed suit and changed into his house shoes. It was hardly anything out of character for Wonwoo—he was always considerate, but your blood pulsed ferociously in the veins of your wrists at the small gesture.

It would have made sense to venture into the apartment instead of remaining in the entryway, but you stayed and watched as Wonwoo turned to face you. Your eyes met and the static charge returned to your fingertips. You swore his eyes darkened as they flickered further down your face. The limited space of the alcove demanded you hover in each other’s personal space close enough for a slight shift in your weight to force you to unintentionally brush against each other. The slightest touch would result in a static shock, you were positive. Wonwoo hovered closer and your breath was trapped at the top of your throat— if he adjusted the angle of his head, then he’d—

“Hungry?” He murmured, low tone fluttering in the pit of your stomach. “There’s some of the spinach salad in the fridge.”

Fuck auditioning for the role of boyfriend— this man was fully auditioning for the role of husband. Acts of service and making sure you were fed? Sold! To the man with abysmal eyesight and the instinct to anticipate your needs!

Unfortunately, you were far too queasy to trust yourself to eat anything at the moment. A damn shame, because you really did love his family’s spinach salad. “Later,” You promised. He didn’t press the matter despite knowing you hadn’t eaten since early that morning due to your packed class schedule. Nodding in agreement, Wonwoo pressed a large, warm hand to the small of your back, encouraging you into the apartment.

Immediately, you padded over to the large couch in the living room, folding up into your corner and snatching your emotional support circular throw pillow to rest your wrists on while you gamed. Wonwoo passed by the entertainment center, retrieving your designated controllers from the cabinet and waking the docked Nintendo Switch before heading toward the couch. He maneuvered around an arm chair, nabbing the throw blanket draped over the back. Once close enough, Wonwoo settled the fuzzy blanket across your lap, fixing the areas that bunched up, and then passed you your controller.

The blanket hadn’t always been a fixture of the living room. It was during your third time over at Wonwoo’s apartment when the two of you were watching the last few episodes of a drama when Wonwoo noticed you curled up and shivering. You’d intentionally worn long sleeves that day because the apartment was a freezer box— full blame on Wonwoo’s roommate who liked to live in the arctic— but it wasn’t sufficient to shield you from the unrelentingly glacial winds generated by the air conditioning. The last time you were over and frostbitten, Wonwoo had swaddled you in one of his oversized sweatshirts that smelled like freshly-washed laundry and a hint of something muskier. The cuffs were stretched to conceal your hands, likely from Wonwoo repeatedly tugging the fabric over his own hands when he wore it. When he heaved himself off the couch and disappeared into the hallway, you expected him to return with another one of his sweaters, but instead he brought back a crème colored blanket that he’d evidently just bought based on the tag he wound around his fingers to tug off with a snap of his wrist.

“Sorry, I forgot.” He smiled, a little sheepish, and handed you the blanket.

Ever since, the blanket had been yours. Its home was in the living room of Wonwoo’s apartment, waiting for your return.

Now, he dropped into his place on the couch cushion next to you. With a few rapid clicks of his thumb, the jingle of the Nintendo Home Screen sounded through the speaker system. Already queued into the first slot was Animal Crossing because it was your pick tonight, and you’d always pick Animal Crossing. It was here that you knew that Wonwoo was always a couple paces ahead of you, and he always knew what you needed.

He sensed the weight of your unwavering gaze and turned his attention toward you, about to ask you something, but the words died before he could even think them into existence. The controller he gave you sat abandoned at your side, your hands instead curled into the throw pillow resting on your thighs. Wonwoo was always ahead of you, perceptive of your every need. The slight tremble of your bottom lip, the glassy haze in your eyes, and the shallow rise and fall of your chest told him exactly what you needed then. He wouldn’t make you ask twice.

After carefully depositing his controller on the coffee table, Wonwoo shifted toward you, keeping his attention on your eyes in search of any indicator that you wanted out. He’d back away if you wanted, go back to lounging on the couch and playing video games with you if you gave so much as a hint that it was what you wanted.

You didn’t. A comforting hand that had held yours in his jacket pocket for warmth, combed through your hair to tie it out of your face, and hoisted you up from the floor of a cosmetic store gently settled at the back of your head— his hands were always big and safe. You curved your lips into a small, reassuring smile, and Wonwoo understood. In a split second, his free hand snatched his thin, round glasses from their perch of his nose and tossed them onto the coffee table. Then, your eyes fluttered shut and he closed the distance.

The static sensation returned full force, numbing your body with that fuzzy feeling that made you lightheaded, but you could still feel Wonwoo. Everywhere he touched sparked your nerves back into functioning condition. You could feel his safe hand resting on your waist and the heat diffusing from it, gently rubbing small circles into your skin with his thumb— just like he had done to your ankle. You could feel the confident force of his lips on yours, firm and slow, like he was savoring you, drawing out the moment for as long as he’d waited for it— he’d stay here with you for even longer than he’d waited if you wanted. You wouldn’t stop him. Trading your purchase on the pillow for the shoulders of Wonwoo’s dark blue sherpa jacket, you tried to pull him closer, unsatisfied with how distant you felt despite your physical contact. Wonwoo seemed to agree with the sentiment, slightly pulling back from your lips so that your noses still lightly grazed with every minuscule shift.

Your eyes blinked open when you registered his sturdy arm coil around your back, only to fall breathless again. His sharp eyes possessed an intensity you hadn’t seen him wear before. It wasn’t intimidating, but your skin flushed at the fervor. His usually neat enough dark waves were fluffed up; you hadn’t realized you’d done it in the moment, but one of your hands had languidly trailed up the back of his scalp moments ago. With slick coordination that surfaced every so often, Wonwoo slightly lifted you, slipping beneath you and settling you in his lap. Much better.

You discarded the fuzzy blanket pooled on your lap off to the side—you appreciated Wonwoo’s sweet gesture, but it was only in the way now. He reclined into the back of the couch and you swayed right after him, abdomen flushed against him and your arms looping behind his neck. His build really was a whole lot more athletic than you realized now that you rested on his powerful thighs and his firm back shuddered under your palms. Wonwoo tilted his head up and to the side, a lopsided smile quirking the corner of his mouth, gums just barely peaking out— his bottom lip was more pigmented and puffier than usual. His high cheekbones glowed in the dimmed light from the TV, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him so rugged before. The expression could have been mistaken for being haughty— you knew him better than that though. It was still that same smile that spoke to his softhearted nature, the one that had him doting on you as easily as he breathed. You answered his grin with an eager press of your lips, relishing in the cautious pressure of his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

That was how Soonyoung discovered the two of you, rounding the corner that connected the hallway to the living room and damn-near smacking the back of his head on the wall in his haste to retreat. Then, Jihoon stepped out of his own room and approached him, disgruntled by Soonyoung’s hand spasming and smacking against his chest.

“Look at our boy.” He whispered, a proud gleam twinkling in his eyes, not missed by Jihoon. Uninterested, Jihoon poked his head around the corner, immediately regretting it and whirling to criticize his silly-ass roommate.

“Don’t watch them, you fucking creep.” He hissed. And with that and a nose crinkled in immense judgement, Jihoon crept back into his room, ignoring Soonyoung’s insistence that he hadn’t been watching.

“What made you tell me?” You asked, breaking the peaceful silence while you relaxed on the couch, still nestled together, then clarified. “Now, I mean.”

“I was sure you’d figure it out eventually.” Then Wonwoo huffed mirthfully at that adorably optimistic belief he held onto for over six years. “And then we were well into college and that never happened.”

Your blank stare and light press of your lips told him you were both unsatisfied with his answer and knew him well enough to call him on the probably half-true bullshit. No way did he just get impatient and go ‘fuck it.’ Unless something happened, Wonwoo was capable of waiting decades before making his move. He would have, had his instigation of increased physical affection been received uncomfortably by you. But he was always under the assumption that you weren’t interested in a romantic relationship and not that you were unaware of his long kindled affection for you.

All things said and done, there was no harm in waiting to pursue a romantic relationship with you. Wonwoo had always been a significant fixture in your life, whether his role was friend or romantic partner didn’t add or subtract from the quality of your relationship. The both of you had always had each other anyway.

“I met up with Mingyu,” Wonwoo admitted, a bashful grin tugging a corner of his lips up. “And he asked me how you were.”

You blinked, not quite following his line of reason. “Okay?”

“But he asked me like, ‘How’s your girlfriend doing?’ And I told him I hadn’t asked you out.” He spoke at a rapid fire pace, and if you hadn’t engraved his speech pattern into your chest, you would have had to ask him to repeat himself. “He lost his mind. Like, the disappointment was palpable.” He recounted with an exhausted droop of his eyelids. “Told me to pull my head out of my ass, that it was pathetic that I liked you for years and did nothing, and that he’d come visit himse—“

You stiffened at that information, interrupting him. “Wait, Mingyu knew that you liked me before I knew that you liked me?” Seriously, Kim Mingyu figured it out before you? Sure, you weren’t in grade school anymore, but according to Jihoon, Mingyu had very much not changed. (”I heard from a friend at his college that he almost choked at orientation because he tried to drink soju through his nose on a dare.”)

Wonwoo winced sympathetically, corners of his eyes crinkling in the same way they did when he physically could not contain his joy, and his hand moved to smooth the loose hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. “Yeah, I know. A bit of a low blow there, huh?” An understatement.

Your chin returned to its resting place on his chest, a self-reflective frown quirking the corners of your lips down, and sighed, “Man.”

A husky laugh huffed out through his nose before turning into hearty chuckles that heaved his chest up and down, taking your form relaxed on top of his with it. “Don’t sweat it.” Wonwoo reassured, thumb lightly brushing your cheek, a warmth in his dark eyes that you were slowly becoming familiar with seeing your reflection in. “I still love you.”

It wasn’t the first time Wonwoo had caught you off guard with his blunt delivery of significant information. He tended to come to conclusions early on and then fold them over a few times to stash them in his back pocket like he would a receipt. Out of sight, out of mind, but still always with him nonetheless. It was entirely possible that Wonwoo carried his love for you shoved deep in a nook he hadn’t paid much attention to for far longer than he, or you, or anyone realized.

Maybe he loved you when he intentionally packed a large serving of your favorite spinach salad his dad made for your scheduled lunches together in grade school. Or it could have been when Mingyu unintentionally let slip that you asked him to play basketball with him to improve his reputation. He had to have known it to be true when he willingly offered his skin as your canvas for lip products. Then it was reinforced by that abysmal orientation dinner you both bailed on. And again every time you surprised him, and when you didn’t, and he knew exactly what you were going to do or say or need. He loved you in the second controller he brought with him when he moved into his apartment, decorated with your favorite Animal Crossing villagers. He was never just giving you a blanket on the nights you spent curled up together in his apartment— he was handing you far more than that.

Wonwoo was content with you simply accepting the affection he offered, but your reciprocation was very much welcome and celebrated. With the way you cared for each other, he doubted much would change about your dynamic—he didn’t mind though. This was comfortable and warm, and as always, you were together.

You examined the lines of varying shades of pink swiped up your wrist, glistening under the fluorescent overhead light. So far, none of the swatches stirred anything in your heart. You slipped the tester back into the designated notch on the display and plucked the next one out of its home, twisting the applicator out.

A familiar hand appeared from behind you, cradling your outstretched arm in long fingers to steady it. Warmth pulsed under the pads of his fingertips and bloomed into your wrist. Wonwoo peered over your shoulder, thoughtfully surveying the array of glosses painted on your skin. Then, he tapped his index finger twice to the side of one of the samples, “I like that one.”

“Yeah?” You crane your neck to cast a coy gaze over your shoulder at him, fluttering your lashes for effect. “Buy it for me and I’ll let you kiss it off me.”

He knew you were absolutely serious by the mischievous grin and twinkle in your eyes. Wonwoo nodded in agreement, his eyes dark, and pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. He adjusted so his lips lightly grazed the shell of your ear, sending that fuzzy feeling down your neck and spine.

“Pick three.”

౨ৎMasterlist

[tokkiw00]

HEARTACHE ON THE BIG SCREEN - J.WONWOO (0)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DO NOT INTERACT. UNEDITED.

synopsis: Jeon Wonwoo, renowned actor of the year— your ex, is paired up with you for the year's newly awaited movie; ironically about reconnecting with an old flame. Your reunion is anything but smooth, old grudges and feelings rise to the surface as the both of you continue working on the film. Will this give the both of you an opportunity to rekindle what was once lost or will this prove that you're better off moving on with each other’s lives?

rating: (n)sfw

pairing: actor! wonwoo x actress! afab reader

genre: actor!au, exes to lovers!au, angst, slow burn

warnings for this chapter: use of female pronouns for reader, written in third person, cursing— i think that's it— (please do message if i missed any)

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i've been working on this story for months and even so, i'm far from finishing it lol. again, please expect really slow updates since i just got a job and i cannot promise that i'll be able to update all the time.

my messages and ask are both always on, feel free to leave one! i also really appreciate comments and reposts! once again, thank you for choosing to be on this journey with me :) i hope you have fun as much as i do :)

Official tag for the series is #HOTBS

teaser || HOTBS masterlist

date posted: 11/06/25

The dimly lit lamp post illuminated the two figures that were standing in the middle of the rain,  shadows dancing around their faces as droplets from the heavy downpour masked the pair’s heavyhearted expressions. The rise and fall of their chests from their labored breaths was evident as they faced each other.

“Is it really that easy for you to throw three years away?” Wonwoo said, knuckles turning white as he gripped the ends of his sleeve.

Lips pursed, Y/N couldn’t utter a response— because if she did, she knew that she'd break down in front of him. She’d take back every word she had said to him a few minutes ago; beg for his forgiveness for even thinking about separating, pull him to her embrace and never let go.

All she could do was look at him, misty-eyed as she studied the latter’s face— as if this was the last time she could do this. 

She memorized it all, from the mole on his left cheek that was situated under his eye to the scar that was just right above his right eyebrow. His glasses were foggy from the rain but she could still see his eyes, the usually bright ones were now glossy, his eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw was clenched. No one would know whether or not it was raindrops that were trickling down his cheek or his own tears.

“Don’t look at me like that. Please,” Wonwoo pleads, his voice slowly cracking. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

She lets out a shaky breath, lips trembling. “You think it’s that easy for me too? I’ve been patiently waiting for you while you break one promise after another.”

Wonwoo stood there silent as his head hung low, the sound of the rain hitting the concrete pavement seemed to only grow louder. 

“I know your manager has been telling you to break up with me. You think I wouldn’t know about that?”

For a moment, Wonwoo looked taken aback. His strong stance seemed to falter for a bit, “What right do they have to have a say in my relationship? To tell me what to do with my relationship?”

His eyes softened as he looked at her slightly trembling figure. “Please, let me make up for lost time, Y/N. I promise, I’ll make it up to you—”

His hands tried reaching out for her elbow, trying to bring her closer but she only shook her head, pulling her arm back with a small sob escaping her lips. 

“You,” Y/N tried to talk, her voice slowly failing her. “You always say that.”

“You keep telling me that you’ll make it up to me. You promised and you promised. You kept on promising until there came a time that you couldn’t even do it anymore,” she says, her eyes not leaving his.

“I can also see how tired you’ve become just trying to be in our relationship. I can see it every time I look at you.”

“Y/N, I’m not tired! I’m just—”

Y/N only looked at Wonwoo, making him stop his sentence as his eyes met hers.

In contrast to what used to be light and carefree, her eyes were tired. She looked paler and the dark circles under her eyes were proof of the lack of sleep she had the past few weeks. Hurt was evident as the pair stood in the middle of the rain, silence enveloping them. The tears she held back were finally falling freely on her face.

Y/N thought she could do this, she should’ve known better.

“I love you,” Wonwoo whispered.

“I love you too.”

“We can still make this work. Please, don’t end it just like this.”

In a desperate plea, he held her closer to his chest. Hugging her as if she’d vanish into thin air if he lets her go. 

She lets herself bask in his embrace for a few seconds, before snapping back into their reality. She tried pushing him away, hitting his chest but he wouldn’t budge.

“Please don’t make this harder for me,” she tells him in between sobs. 

“Let’s fix this, please, please, please,” he once again pleads, slowly loosening his hold on her.

“You’re losing sleep, trying to be with me. Your management is already furious with you because of me.” 

It was no secret to her that his management isn't too fond of her. His manager would pick Wonwoo up from her place when they would spend the night together and his manager would look at her as if she was the bane of their existence. 

Wonwoo would immediately shut down any dating rumor that could possibly rake up viewers of any upcoming movies or dramas. He would try to leave early after his shoots until one day he couldn’t anymore.

He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, nor was he a passive lover. 

This is what made it harder for her. 

“I don’t want to hinder you from shooting to the stars, Won. You deserve to be there, to go even higher. You deserve to shine brighter, and you won’t be able to do that with me pulling you back.”

“Shooting to the stars be fucking damned if you’re not with me, Y/N.”

“This is exactly why we should stop.”

Wonwoo looked at her stunned.

“This is your dream. You’re at the pinnacle of reaching your dream, and what? You’re throwing it away for me? I can’t possibly make you do that, Wonwoo.”

A few seconds of silence once again passed the both of them, until Wonwoo took a deep breath.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go on without you.”

A bitter smile formed on her face, tears still falling on her cheeks. “I know you can, Jeon. You’ll be able to walk and move forward without me by your side.”

I’ll always be watching you from afar. I’ll always watch your movies, your dramas. I’ll always support you in whatever goal you have dreamed of, whether you choose to divert your journey from the stars to the moon. I’ll always love you and support you, even if it means just standing idly by the sidelines.

She had many words left unsaid, yet she couldn’t bring herself to say any of it. 

 Wonwoo held both of her hands, bringing her knuckles close to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on them, letting a shaky breath right after. 

“Why are you talking like you’ll never see me again?” He whispered.

She looked away from him, biting the inside of her cheek before she started speaking once again. “I’ll be leaving for London in a few weeks, I accepted the scholarship grant from the university yesterday.”

NOTE: This story is purely fictional. Any traits or decisions of the story's characters do not reflect those of their real life counterparts. This is a work of fiction and is not real. Please separate fiction from reality.

This story will be crossposted to wattpad and twitter.

[seokgyuu]

What could be worse than a valentine’s day alone? Exactly, a valentine’s day spent with your academic rival, Jeon Wonwoo, stuck in the home eco’s kitchen because you were both sentenced to take over the cookie baking for this season’s day of love. 

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)

warnings: sexual content, smut warnings under cut! wonwoo is a little bit mean? but like not too mean? she’s also kinda mean. but they are in love! promise.

word count: 5k

a/n: hi everyone!! this is part of the cupids collab hosted by the wonderful @wongyuseokie for @svthub! this work is dedicated to the wonderful, the lovely, the hilarious @highvern! i hope you like it, babes!! sending you loads of love this valentine's day and thousands of kisses, mwah! i had loads of fun writing this and am happy to be a part of this collab, hehe. also thank you @ourdawnishotterthanourday for betaing, ily! <3

“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move.  “Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.”  Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him. “Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.” “I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”

smut warnings: minimal degradation (usage of the word “slut”), praising, pet names (princess, sweetheart, darling, pretty girl) oral (f. receiving), begging, softdom!wonwoo, unprotected sex (you know the drill - wrap it before you tap it, folks!), creampie (get it… cream…pie? cookies & cre- ok i’m sorry).

There are approximately seven thousand three hundred and twenty eight places you would rather be than here. 

Nothing has helped you get out of this unfortunate situation. No pleading, no begging, not even wanting to send Seungkwan in your stead. Professor Yoon had been adamant in his decision to send you and him to this god forsaken home eco kitchen to bake the badge of cookies for the Valentine’s day sale. 

“It’s not even a real holiday!” you had whined to Seungkwan, “if it were, we wouldn’t even be at class in the first place!” 

All your best friend did was rub your back and tell you it was all gonna be fine, all while writing a text to Vernon on his phone in his other hand. He was used to your antics when it came to Jeon Wonwoo. Everyone was, at this point. Both of you had not made it hard to get used to - just by the amount of times you had decided to fight and dive right into rivalry when there was no reason to. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t even a bad idea to put you two in one room together for several hours with no one else. It could give you time to talk out your differences. Call for a truce. Screw the anger out of each other. Anything that would make Seungkwan’s life easier. 

That day comes sooner than you wanted it to, and while your hand lays on the handle of the car door, you feel the uneasiness inside you raise. 

“I can’t do this, Seungkwan. One of us is gonna end up dead.”

“Yeah, my money’s on Wonwoo. Please don’t disappoint me.” Seungkwan hums back, hands on the steering wheel and his eyebrows raised. You turn around, your mouth slightly agape before scoffing and opening the door.

“Pick me up at 4?” you ask and your best friend nods, waving at you once the door is closed. He truly hopes neither of you ends up dead (but if push comes to shove, obviously Wonwoo because then Vernon would owe him 5 bucks). 

Professor Yoon had told you that all necessities would be at the university and that you wouldn’t have to bring anything except for a good mood, something you didn’t dare to say was impossible in the given situation. 

You aren’t stupid (Wonwoo would beg to differ), you are well aware that your professor is trying to end whatever war you and Wonwoo have going on by pairing you up for this. And while you get the sentiment and might even appreciate it a little - you’re more than sure that nothing will ever come out of this - Wonwoo and you despise each other. It has been like this since your first semester and it most definitely wasn’t going to change over something as trivial as baking cookies together. 

The home eco’s kitchen is in the basement of the economics building and you are happy to notice you’re the first to arrive. Smiling to yourself, you fish the key to the room out of your bag and unlock the door, walking in and turning on the lights. 

The kitchen is spacious and modern, everything is made out of gray steel, with a few dark wood accents on the cupboards. You spot the boxes with ingredients on the island, and place your bag next to it before unpacking the things provided for you and Wonwoo. It becomes your mission to arrange the cookbook with the recipe in the center of the right side of the island, gathering all the needed ingredients around it in the order you would need it. Then, you search the cupboards for a big bowl, wooden spoon and a mixer. 

You have gathered almost everything except for the mixer, spotting it in one of the higher cupboards you most definitely can’t reach without some sort of help. Biting down on your lip and gnawing on it, you look around the room, coming up empty. There are chairs in the room next to the kitchen, but you don’t have the key for it. With a sigh, you stretch yourself as much as you possibly can, hand reaching for the kitchen gadget - with no luck. Just when you’re about to climb on top of the counter, you feel something shift behind you, a body suddenly pressed against yours and an arm reaching up to grab the mixer for you without any trouble at all. 

Wonwoo. Your body stiffens at his touch and only relaxes once he backs off, putting the mixer down next to the other stuff. Immediately you turn around, your eyes glaring at him.

“Someone decided to show up, after all.” You spit at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“I was forced, if you must know.” He says not even looking at you. His eyes are focused on the ingredients on the counter, his lips slowly drawing into a smug smile.

“Control freak much?” 

Your head burns and you scoff, walking over to the door and feeling his eyes on you as you move. 

“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move. 

“Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.” 

Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him.

“Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.”

“I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”

For the most part the two of you are quiet. Mainly because you don’t have anything to say to each other. You split the ingredients evenly (either one of you starting with their own batch since there is a whole lot of cookies to bake) and begin working on opposite ends of the kitchen. You get through the first batch without so much as exchanging looks. You do your thing and he does his. Only, when you get the first batch out, you ask him to hand you the oven mittens, which he does without any fuss. You’re surprised but don’t say it. 

It’s when the both of you start to work on your second batches that things… change.

You hate to admit the tension in the room. In fact, you’ve been hating it since the first day you’ve met him. It’s a shame he’s so hot when he’s the absolute bane of your existence. Your friends (mainly Seungkwan, really) tease you about your obvious attraction to the man you call your archnemesis every chance they get, causing you to flip them off, or scoff, or just roll your eyes at how extremely wrong they are. If you could change it, you would! Finding him attractive whilst hating him truly is exhausting. 

Slowly, you let yourself turn around in hopes he doesn’t notice. Thankfully, he is entirely focused on sprinkling chocolate chips into the cookies - white chocolate chips. You let out a gasp and your wooden spoon falls onto the top of the counter you’re working on.

“That’s cheating!” You shout, pointing at the package of sweets that he so obviously brought himself. What a jerk!

Not even looking at you, Wonwoo chuckles at your words, placing the chocolate chips next to him and wiping his hands on the apron he had put on earlier. Then, he turns to you, hip leaning against the counter, arms crossed and his eyebrows raised as he smirks like the douchebag you know he is.

“Cheating, yeah?” He repeats, licking his lips, “not sure it counts as cheating when it was clear from the beginning I would make better cookies, sweetheart.”

His condescending way of talking to you has always succeeded in making your blood boil, just like right now. You scoff, shaking your head and cleaning your own hands with a kitchen towel to your left.

“You know, considering these are for the day of love it is quite ironic Professor Yoon paired me with you, the person I hate the most.” You present Wonwoo with a honey dripping smile that couldn’t be more fake. Wonwoo doesn’t waver though. He just continues to smirk, his eyebrows shooting up even more, and before you know it he starts walking towards you, a click of his tongue almost making you flinch.

“See, love and hate are like siblings. While on the surface they couldn’t be more different, in their core they are irritatingly similar,” his voice is deep and his eyes are right there on yours and somehow you feel like he has taken away your ability to breathe. What the hell is he doing?

“You were always fascinating to me, darling. Always so sure of your opinion, never wavering. That first day we met, do you remember? How you were on my ass for the rest of the day because Professor Cha liked my answer better than yours?”

“He did not!” You shoot back, surprised by your own whiny tone. Looking at Wonwoo’s face, the defined jawline and cheekbones, the round specs on top of his nose and the brown soft curls falling into his forehead, you immediately regret speaking up at all. There is something in his eyes now, something you have never seen before  - at least not on him. Something inside of him shifted, like a switch that had been flipped, and the way he looks at you makes all of your skin erupt in goosebumps. 

“Ah, so I imagined things?” Wonwoo only so much as whispers, his large frame coming even closer, “Are you saying I’m a liar, pretty girl?”

Pretty girl. What the fuck? Your eyes widen and you feel your throat closing up. Absolutely not, you could not freeze right now! He was testing you, seeing how far he could go before you actually fell for whatever he was trying to do. Gathering all your confidence, you bring your hands up to place them on his chest and softly push him away. It gives you extreme satisfaction when you see the surprise on his face.

“And if I am? What are you going to do about it, Wonwoo?” Your smile turns smug and the little vein on Wonwoo’s forehead pops out just slightly. About to retrieve your arms, you are met with his hands around your wrists and his body even closer to yours. 

To say he catches you by surprise would be an understatement. Your lower back is pressed against the counter, your hands in his grip and your lungs missing the necessary air to not get dizzy. Why does he smell so good? You catch yourself thinking thoughts you normally would try to suppress at any given time - especially when Wonwoo is right in front of you. This time, though, there is no escaping. Not with him so close, not with him staring right into your soul.

“I have learned one thing over the years we’ve known each other, Y/N,” he breathes, eyes not leaving your face, “you can be a real fucking brat.”

The gasp you want to let out gets stuck in your throat. Instead, something like a choke comes out, something that makes Wonwoo smirk and your legs weak.

“You really think you’re sly. Do you honestly believe I don’t know how attractive you find me? How you need to look away everytime I come in wearing tighter shirts or pants that hang low enough to see the waistband of my underwear? You always try to act like you hate me and, you know what, maybe you do, but what I said earlier isn’t wrong, darling, love and hate are like yin and yang - they can’t exist without the other.”

He has your wrists in a strong grip and his lower body is now pressed against yours, something you never realized you craved. Feeling his growing erection against you, knowing he is turned on by you, by the situation, you feel like your head is about to explode. 

“So, what if I tell you that maybe I don’t actually hate you, but I actually find you attractive as well? What if I tell you nine out of ten times I want to shut your annoying mouth up by shoving my cock right down your tight throat? Or how whenever you bend over your desk to tell someone something you, of course, know better than them, I want to take you just like that and make everyone see just how much of a desperate pretty slut you actually are?”

You’re done for. With every word he’s saying, you can feel yourself actually becoming what he says you are. Desperate. The heat between your legs has turned into liquid in your panties, has turned into your heart beating at triple speed. 

“Y-You can’t just say that!” You stutter, knowing full well he will just laugh at you. And he does. He laughs and he throws his head back and then he looks at you again, his eyes glinting with want that only gets emphasized by the hard cock pressing against you. 

“Oh, sweet, sweet baby. Of course, I can,” he hums, finally letting go of one of your wrists to carefully tug a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re flustered.” 

He must be playing with you. It has to be one of his games. He wants you to give in, wants you to fall for this only to hold it over your head for the rest of your college life. His mixture of dominance and sweetness is about to give you whiplash, especially when he begins to caress your cheek and leans down, his breath hitting your cheek. 

“We need to finish those cookies, Wonwoo.” The words are whispered and almost inaudible, but he hears you and he smiles.

“We’re alone in this basement, sweetheart. We’ve got all day to finish those cookies.” His hand wanders down, finding its place on your hip. You shiver slightly, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips and when his nose bumps against yours, something tells you that maybe he is serious. 

When he kisses you, you figure that something is correct. What’s supposed to start soft turns into something deep, and hot, and uncontrolled, right off the bat. Kissing Wonwoo feels like the only thing you had ever missed out on in life and now you finally got the chance to take what belongs to you. His lips are soft and his tongue is warm, pressing against yours and entangling it in a dance of fire. Your hands are in his hair and his are on your hips and you’re sitting on top of the counter with all of your ingredients pushed to the side, your wooden spoon falling to the floor when Wonwoo lifts you up. 

As if on instinct, your legs wrap around him and you moan against his lips when his hands move up, groping your breasts through your shirt. He licks into your mouth, your fingers digging into his nape, nails dragging along his skin. 

If you could see into Wonwoo’s brain you might have gotten scared. Not because he’s thinking actual scary thoughts but because of how many times he has imagined this. You’re always there, somewhere in his brain, your smile, your eyes, your laugh. And when he’s alone and can’t sleep you’re there too, but this time it’s how he thinks you’d sound when he’s inside of you, when he sucks on your neck and squeezes your tits. There hasn’t been a day since he met you that he hadn’t thought about you. 

It’s a shame you immediately called him out to be your academic rival on that day because all Wonwoo wanted to do back then was to make you his girlfriend, basically falling in love with you at first sight. As cliché as it sounds, it’s even more cliché considering he just played along with you, acting like he hated you, riling you up during class in ways he would rather switch for moments like this one right now. 

Never had he imagined he’d get you alone, especially considering how good you are at avoiding him. But when Professor Yoon had asked him to bake the cookies for the Valentine’s day sale - he couldn’t help but suggest you as his partner. Hours would be spent together in a kitchen, hours you had to spend with him. 

He loves how right he was. How right he was about you giving in, about you finding him hot, about you wanting him. He loves the sounds you make when he begins kissing down your neck and when his hand wanders under your shirt and shoves away your bra to touch the breasts he had been dreaming about. He sucks marks onto your neck and feels himself grow harder with every passing second. There is nowhere on this earth he’d rather be than right here, between your legs. 

“Been dying to do this, you know?” He mumbles against your neck, licking up to your earlobe and twitching in his pants when he feels you shivering under his touch.

“R-Really?” You whimper back and Wonwoo nods, both hands moving to your cheeks, lips back on yours in a heated, passionate kiss. He thinks that nothing will ever feel as good as kissing you. 

“Yeah, baby, wanted to kiss you forever, fuck,” he moans when your fingers move underneath his shirt, when you touch his bare skin and all of him begins to burn.

“Wanted to touch you, taste you.” His words echo in your mind and you open your eyes, a horny daze in them that makes Wonwoo question his sanity. He moves down now, kissing your neck again and shoving your shirt up to kiss your stomach and breasts over your bra, nimble fingers opening the apron you had laced around your hips earlier. 

“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” He asks then and you think you nod, at least you want to nod, but your head is clouded and you feel like you’re about to pass out. When he moves to get the apron off of you, focussing on opening your pants next, you figure you did in the end. 

Having you half naked in front of him makes Wonwoo feel like he has reached the gates of heaven. Your pants are on the floor and your chest is heaving, eyes glossy as you watch Wonwoo move to the floor, his tall body still reaching the top of the counter when he kneels in front of you. He moves his arms, wrapping them around your thighs and pulling you closer, his nose tapping against your sensitive core the next second. With a gasp, your hands reach for his head of hair, grounding yourself in it as you stare down at the way he eyes your pussy as if he had never seen anything more delicious in his life. 

When he moves your panties to the side, his finger softly gliding over your folds, you feel yourself shiver once more. You let out another whimper, biting down on your lip that feels hot and a little bruised after the way Wonwoo had kissed you. 

“God, I can’t even tell you how many nights I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He kisses the inside of your thighs, making you moan quietly, fingers coating themselves in your juices, ready to please you. 

Watching him is messing with your head in the best way possible. The way he looks at you, so full of endearment and adoration. How he touches you as if you’d break if he touched you too vehemently. He lets his tongue glide over your skin, moving until it reaches your dripping cunt, licking over your lips, tasting you for the first time. The moan he lets out has you digging your nails into his scalp, mouth dropped as you continue to stare down, continue to watch Wonwoo, your archnemesis, begin to devour your pussy like a Michelin star dish. 

He starts off slow, licking over your folds, not touching your clit even once. If he died right now, he’d be content. Tasting you, hearing your sounds when you’re aroused, him being the cause of it - it’s almost all of his dreams coming true. His fingers move, one of them circling your entrance, your whines growing louder by the second. You want his fingers inside of you, you need them inside of you. Wiggling your hips against him, Wonwoo chuckles at your antics and finally moves his finger, inch by inch sinking into your needy hole, your eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him. 

“So, so eager, princess,” he mumbles against your pussy, another breathy laugh causing you to thrust forward, his finger now completely inside of you. And, fuck, do you feel wonderful. So much better than anything Wonwoo had experienced before, better than anything he could have imagined. Perhaps, he figures, it’s because it’s you. 

Next thing you know, Wonwoo’s lips are around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, tongue flicking against it and leaving you to moan his name time and time again. Your hips move against him and he lets you, his cock straining against his pants in desperate need for attention. But not yet, he isn’t done with you. First, you’d have to come undone on his tongue and his fingers, first you had to scream his name as you experienced complete and utter satisfaction. Wonwoo does everything in his power for that to happen. He adds another finger and fucks you open, his long fingers meeting your sweet spot with every thrust as if he had studied your body for hundreds of hours. His tongue does the work of a god, his lips kiss you like you had never known you needed to be kissed, especially down there. 

“D-Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, Wonwoo!” You cry out, your head thrown back as you focus on nothing but your pleasure, on how he feels on your pussy, how it all is too much and yet not enough. You think about what’s to come, about how he will fuck you next, will sink into you with his cock, will make you feel like you’re the most precious woman on this planet. Even more than he already does. Your high is nearing, it’s so close you can feel it right there in front of you, that tight knot in your stomach about to break free and give you one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 

“Cum for me, baby. Fuck, I want you to cum on my tongue.” Wonwoo’s words are like magic, like a spell that he puts on you. A lewd whine escapes your throat and you do as he wishes, cumming all over his tongue and fingers, your juices drenching his face. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, anticipation filling him when he finally parts from you. 

Immediately, you pull down to kiss him when he stands. Tasting yourself on his lips with your hands opening his apron and getting it off his tall frame with his help, you can’t wait to get even closer to him. You slip out of your panties with his lips steadily on yours, a faint sound in your ears when they hit the floor.

“Need you so bad, Wonwoo, please hurry,” you cry out and he laughs, kissing your neck and your cheek, his hands opening his belt, zipper and button, shoving his pants down only for you to gasp at the sheer size of his bulge. He grins, hands back on your face to make sure you’re looking at him.

“Naughty, aren’t you? My perfect, pretty slut,” he kisses your lips again and your eyes roll back, your pussy throbbing in want. And obviously he knows how much you want him - he wants you just the same. As he continues to kiss you, he moves to pull his briefs down, his hard erection springing free, angry tip red and smeared with pre, oh-so ready to sink into your warm embrace. You part from him, eyes now setting on his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” you say, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. Wonwoo only grins wider, his big hands finding purchase on your hips as he leans down again. 

“Beg a little for it, baby, and you might get it.” You shiver and bite down on your lip, your hands wandering over his still clothed torso and down to his cock, slowly wrapping your hand around it.

“Please, Wonwoo, please fuck me…,” is your whispered plead, and the man standing in between your legs groans against your neck, sucking yet another mark into your delicate skin before nodding and grabbing his cock out of your hand, lining it up perfectly with your entrance and slowly sinking in.

His forehead is leaned against yours when he bottoms out and his hands caress your head, coming to a stop on your nape. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose and you smile, giving the tip of his nose a kiss back. Then, he parts from you and the look in his eyes changes from soft to dark. He does his first thrust, catching you off guard, a loud moan escaping you. Your hands grab onto his shoulders as he continues his thrusts, fucking you deep and hard, his eyes focused on your face that contours in absolute bliss. When he said you’re beautiful, he meant it. 

He is holding onto your hips again, pulling you as close to him as he can, his hips chasing yours, his cock in the deepest bits of your pussy, your gummy walls squeezing him for his pleasure. There is nothing you can do besides begging him to go faster, begging him to not ever stop and crying his name when he leans down to suck on your hard nipple over your shirt. 

“Wonwoo! Fuck!” You clench over and over again, stars dancing in front of your eyes accompanied by beautiful lights that slowly but surely turn into fireworks. With every thrust of his hips, you feel yourself coming closer to the edge again. You want him to fill you, want him to claim you as his, make you feel full of him and only him. Nails are digging into his shoulders, your head falling back against the kitchen cabinet, his groans and the beautiful sound of your name coming out of his mouth chasing you off the cliff and into the warm waters of yet another intense orgasm. 

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, oh- Wonwoo!” It’s done, you are done, your climax hitting you hard and making you gush all over his length that is still so deeply buried inside your sensitive cunt. Wonwoo moans, feeling your pussy clench around him, squeeze him, beg him to cum, to decorate you in his shades of white. And he wants to, god, there is nothing he had ever wanted more. His breathing becomes labored and he leans forward, engulfing you in yet another heated kiss, one arm wrapped around you, the other letting its hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your chin as his tongue flicks against yours over and over, mixed with his breathless moans. 

When you squeeze him the next time, he erupts. He moans your name, hips becoming frantic as he shoots his load into you, spurts of white and hot cum filling your spent pussy, your and his combined releases dripping down your thighs even as he fucks his cum so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants against your mouth, continuing to kiss you right after, riding out his orgasm and only stopping when you’re both completely out of breath. 

It’s silent for a few moments, the only thing audible your almost synchronized breathing. Your hands are still on his shoulders, his hands are still on your waist and your cheek. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and he softly kisses your sweaty skin, nothing but pure happiness running through him at this point. He softly caresses your face as he leans back again, his eyes searching for yours. 

“Y/N,” he then breathes, a small and maybe even shy smile playing on his lips.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh back, pulling him into a hug that he accepts with a laugh, both his arms now fully wrapped around your body. He’s still inside of you and only leaves you when you part from the hug, more of his release now dripping out of your core. He doesn’t ask whether you’re on birth control because for all he cares he would love to have you pregnant with his child. The thought alone makes his head spin. 

“Well,” he begins, a smug smile on his face as he leans down to pick up your panties, “that definitely gives ‘cookies and cream’ a different meaning.” 

You stare at him, slightly bewildered, for around three seconds before you burst into laughter, grabbing your underwear from him and jumping back onto your shaky feet. “You’re horrible,” you say and shake your head and Wonwoo’s smile grows even wider.

“Maybe. But I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll never ever be horrible to you again.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Mr. Know-It-All,” you smile and give his cheek a peck that he reacts to by turning bright red. 

It is in that exact moment you realize Wonwoo was never your archnemesis. Nor has he ever been as much of an ass as you had made him out to be. Jeon Wonwoo is nothing but a loser who’s been in love with you since the very first day you met him, and perhaps you had always known. Perhaps you finally let yourself realize right now, the moment after he had cum inside of you and still blushes like a little kid when you kiss his cheek, that the only reason you had chosen him to be your rival was to run away from how much you knew you’d fall for him if you didn’t. 

“Come on, let’s do what we actually came here for.”

And for the rest of the day you and Wonwoo bake the cookies for the sale and talk about what your plans are for Valentine’s. To no surprise those plans immediately involve hanging out together. Maybe, you think, to give ‘cookies and cream’ that new meaning over and over again. 

[wonlouvre]

it's cute | jeon wonwoo

pairing: bf!wonwoo x female reader genre: fluff word count: 343 WARNINGS: reader is shorter than wonwoo, mentions of food

💌: is... this some... welcome back to me?! nvm, i'm just kidding. it has obviously been a while since my apparent "comeback" post and i sincerely apologize for that. i'm slowly writing my way back, so as a sweet and short something, here is some fluffy wonwoo :)

--

For some unknown reason, your boyfriend is here, inside your apartment, on a bright Monday morning. You were preparing your breakfast to fuel you for your upcoming online meeting with an overseas sister company when the sound of your door lock started beeping, almost making you drop the spatula you were holding. You were on a high alert, but then you remember that right, Wonwoo knows where I live and what my passcode is. 

And there he was, sauntering inside your lovely home with a sleepy smile adorning his everlasting handsome face. That sleepy smile grows into a grin when he sees the confused look on your face. He thinks it’s adorable, only enveloping you in a big warm hug to which you immediately reciprocate. 

“You work from home today, right?” Wonwoo asks, his nose nuzzling itself on your neck. 

“Yes?” You reply back, still lost with the sudden visit. Although, you don’t mind one bit. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is okay,” your boyfriend answers without letting you go. “You work, I will nap.”

You chuckle in disbelief and push his body away, hands pressed to his chest. “Are you seriously here to just nap?”

He nods, adorably smiling. “We could have lunch when you’re done, though.”

You don’t need to hear anything else, only nodding and gently patting his cheek. “Okay. Good night.”

“You mean good morning,” he corrects, wiggling his eyebrows. “Can I get a good morning kiss?”

“Sure,” you grant his request and stand on your tippy toes, pecking his lips. 

Satisfied, Wonwoo walks to your bedroom and leaves the door open to let you know he’s with you despite being in another room. He has your place memorized already, he doesn’t need you to tuck him in. 

You shake your head in adoration. You’re going to have to ask him about his surprise visit, but you must say it was a pleasant one and that you don’t have any complaints. In fact, it made your day already ten times better, you could brave through everything in an hour. 

--

💌: i am really sorry for taking so long :( here's to having the will and confidence to write again. if you're still here, thank you so much. if you're new here, welcome! <33

[hanniedream]

Clueless. <Masterlist>

Synopsis: Wonwoo and you are were both oblivious idiots.

Characters: Jeon Wonwoo × Reader, other members as side characters.

Genre: Smau, Fluff

A/N: Based on this. Reblogs and feedback are very appreciated. Reply or send an ask to be added to the taglist.

Status: Completed.

↺ Clueless.

↺ Not a Date Date.

↺ Not Hypothetical.

↺ He Talked to ME.

↺ Okay, Cupid.

↺ Y/nwoo.

↺ Rude 😐.

↺ Pay Up.

↺ Expert in The Y/N Sector.

↺ Deja Vu.

↺ Back In The Game 😎.

↺ Element of Surprise.

↺ Marry The Man RIGHT NOW!!!!!

↺ The Name of That Thing.

↺ I Just Might Fall In Love With You.

↺ The L Word.

↺ Domestic Era.

↺ Married Couple Behaviour.

↺ IDK Man Just Kiss Them.

↺ Mutual Pining Idiots, 50k Slow Burn AU.

↺ You’re Just Mad Because You’re Single.

↺ You Better Believe It.

↺ 4 Against 1.

↺ Out With The Boys.

↺ I Guess I No Longer Have a BF?

↺ AITA For Considering Divorce.

↺ Just Bros.

↺ Bros Only Trip.

Bonus:

↺ Kuromi Shrine.

↺ Dumber Than The Rock.

[leewonkyeom]

 light a flame | jeon wonwoo | masterlist

☆ synopsis

when your roommate quits his job at the coffee shop you frequent you never imagined the new guy would be hot or even your type. to make matters worse you both study law at the same university.

your friends to try to convince you to get together with him. you try to convince them you just find him really nice... but are you able to convince yourself?

☆ pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

☆ genre:  smau, university au, coffee shop au

☆ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied 18+ content

☆ status: ongoing, updates every thursday and sunday

☆ started: 07.09.23

☆ ended: 21.03.24

main masterlist

☆ fill out this form to be added to the taglist

profiles: 1 | 2

chapters:

001: stop thirsting on main

002: i’m not a fucking rat

003: please yn it was for the vine

004: not asking for a friend, i’m asking for me

005: you’re forced to come even if minghao drops of the face of the earth

006: HE’S TALL AND HE GOT A NICE ANGLE SHUT UP

007: you can’t recognize drip even if it’s staring right in your face

008: are you trying to limit my artistic expression?

009: step aside! if anyone’s playing wingman it’s me

010: like slaying monsters?

011: “me as a baby”

012: you obviously know the worth of cancelling

013: is that seungcheol photoshopped as aang from avatar?

014: playing league of legends does not qualify as “having a life”

015: he made me stand outside the coffee shop with a “free hugs” sign

016: good luck, daredevil

017: well, i honestly think you’re both in the wrong

018: then i say spider-man is within the realms of possibility

019: i just wanted the public opinion

020: digital footprint

021: i have faith in the tiger

022: last selfie before we die and i didn’t even look good

023: vernon’s sock drawer isn’t a good hiding place

024: i’m thinking of hanging it in our shared bathroom so seungkwan can be reminded of his good deed

025: oh don’t bring judy into this!

026: staging a storm just so someone can experience the forced proximity trope

027: entering private property in 3... 2... 1

028: i’m not helping a traitor

029: all of my midnight entertainment... gone in seconds

030: yes i will be sharing... / the juices?!

031: uh oh / the ominous period

032: i will go just to prove i’m right

033: oh my god... that woman

034: it means you’re annoying /next

035: i know i’m giving zero context here, but bear with me

036: that guy only has feelings for his right arm

037: how can i dump someone i never even dated?

038: joshua says you can come if you take 10 penalty shots and do a strip tease

039: i can never look any of them in the eyes again... well, except johnny

040: ohh so he’s your super smart study buddy?

041: i didn’t know we had chan’s biggest fan right here

042:i didn’t know you were sending all that, chan. sorry.

043: just a peck

044: as real as spider-man

045: so arguably, it wasn’t even my fault

046: shut up and make out with wonwoo instead

047: special deal only for my boyfriend

048: i’m literally throwing rocks at your window as we speak

049: i’m just training you to be wonwoo’s little pet

050: i’m not having a dog ruin the ambiance

051: epilogue

bonus chapter

[trblsvt]

so obvious | jeon wonwoo

summary | so you disclosed your relationship to admin. now all you needed to do was break the news to your students. maybe they could pick up on the signs you were dropping? genre | fluff, teacher!au warnings | swearing (maybe, i don't think so), corny couple stuff word count | 2.4k words pairing | jeon wonwoo x fem!reader minli | lowercase intended so this is technically a sequel to this piece that i wrote a while ago! a lot of people wanted a part 2! i'm not sure how i feel about this... it's a bit tamer than what i was going for initially, but this is my return i suppose. hope all is well with everyone

wonwoo rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock. unfortunately, it was 7:00 am, so it was time to get up. he turned back over to wake you. "___, my love, it's time to get up," he murmured in your ear. he felt your skin raise at his touch, and he smiled. you groaned and rolled over to face wonwoo. you immediately buried your face into the crook of his neck. he chuckled and pulled you closer to him. "it's time for school," he urged. you groaned. "come on, let's get going," he tugged on you playfully. "the sooner we get there, the sooner we can come back home."

"that's not how that works," you rolled your eyes as you practically fell out of bed. wonwoo sat up against the headboard and watched you gather your things to get ready. "today's the big day, right?" you asked, looking at him. he nodded. today was the day the two of you agreed to disclose your relationship with your students. it was about time, and if you were honest, you were just happy to get it over with. "i was thinking i could just tell my first period class, and let the information spread on it's own. how were you thinking of doing it?" you asked wonwoo, sitting back down on the bed.

wonwoo gazed at you with an emotion you couldn't pinpoint. "i actually was thinking about that last night," he began.

"oh no," you laughed leaning into his body. his arms wrapped around you. "maybe, we could reveal it in a more, how should i say, grand way?" he suggested. 

“grand?” you asked. wonwoo was never one for big announcements. you were surprised he even agreed to announce it to the students in the first place. now he was talking about something grand? he smiled shyly, “yeah, maybe we could, like, hold hands.” he looked at you so seriously. you couldn’t help but laugh, “hold hands?” you repeated. he pouted, gripping your hand tighter. “what? you don’t like that idea?” he asked. 

“no, no, sorry. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly tried to reassure him. “you know i like holding hands with you.”

“you only like holding hands with me?” he teased.

“love. i love holding your hand” you corrected, kissing his cheek. he smiled leaning back in bed, considering his plan. “it would be cool to sort of have them figure it out on their own,” he said. “like a mystery. we could hold hands, hug… just be more touchy, i guess.”

“so you’re suggesting we act like a normal couple,” you said. 

“well, when you say it like that…” he rolls out of bed, pulling you up with him. 

“plus, we don’t want to be indecent at school of all places,” you smiled, resting your hands on his shoulders. he chuckled, “indecent? never.” 

"so, you still don't believe there's any chance of miss ___ and mr. jeon getting together?" daniel asked his two friends lily and mina. lily slumped down in her chair. they were sitting in mr. jeon's class, bright and early for first period. "lily doesn't believe it's possible anymore. remember how many times miss ___ shut her down last time?" mina sighed.

"well, i have news for you guys," daniel smiled, leaning over the table. "i saw miss ___ reach for mr. jeon's hand today on the way into the teacher lounge." mina practically shrieked at the news. lily still looked unimpressed. nothing in her mind could make her change her mind.

"maybe she was just reaching for the door handle after him," lily rolled her eyes.

"how could she if mr. jeon was holding the door already?" daniel argued. "aren't you the person who wanted them to be together more than anything?" it was true, lily really wanted to believe her two favorite teachers could be together. yet, she had a hard time believing in it. miss ___ always dodged her questions and mr. jeon was cryptic as ever. it seemed fruitless. "c'mon just entertain it," daniel pleaded. lily rolled her eyes. there couldn't be any harm in hoping.

"___, don't you think that's a little risky? couldn’t you just put your ring on your finger and see if anyone notices?" seungkwan groaned as he sat down on the chair across from you in the lounge. "it feels like it would violate some sort of public indecency mandate or something," he added. you just rolled your eyes even though you had the same thought. "come on, you know wonwoo wouldn't do something too crazy," you assured. just as you said that you felt a hand wrap around your waist and turn you around. suddenly there was a pair of lips on yours, and you kissed back. "hello, my darling," wonwoo smiled.

"hi," you laughed.

"i believe you stand corrected," seungkwan fake gagged and left to get more coffee. you looked at wonwoo and smiled. "you can't do this in front of the students," you teased.

"me? kiss you in front the students? never," he smirked, leaning down to kiss you again. you leaned away and pushed his face away playfully. "i'd prefer it if you didn't do it in front of seungkwan's coffee either. looks like he's going to be sick," you pointed out. wonwoo glanced over at seungkwan, who was fake throwing up and looking at them with disgust. “he can close his eyes,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss you again. but, you stop him by slightly moving his face away with your hand again. “don’t you have class to get to?” you asked.

“can’t a man love his wife?” he rolled his eyes. 

“this particular man doesn’t have a wife.”

“yet. that’s a technicality.” wonwoo looked at you with a slight smile on his lips. “you love technicalities!” you pointed out. 

“oh, gosh. look at the time. i have a class to get to,” he looked at the silver watch on his wrist and left the lounge giggling at his own humor.

“dork.”

before you stepped into class, you had listened to seungkwan and slipped the ring off the necklace hanging around your neck and onto your finger. maybe they would notice the diamond as you pointed at the board. you stepped into the classroom, and you noticed something in the air felt wrong. you glanced over at mina and daniel, who were staring you down. meanwhile, lily was slumped in her seat, but she was still looking at you like she was expecting something. you brushed it off and got up to the front of class. “hi, everyone!” you said cheerily. “how has the day been?” you were expecting the default answer of “good” from everyone, so you were a bit surprised when daniel said, “lily is ruining my mood.” he was promptly smacked by mina. 

“guys, please do not hit each other,” you sighed. “maybe you should talk to lily and try to sort it out privately.” daniel nodded and slumped into his chair. 

the rest of class went on without much of a hitch. you even tried to motion with your hands more so they would notice the shining stone on your ring finger. but, halfway through class, there was a knock on the door and it opened quickly. you looked up from writing on the board and saw wonwoo step into class. “mr. jeon,” you said surprised. he looked at you sheepishly and looked around the classroom. “miss ___, i- uh- you forgot your lunch,” he smiled holding up your lunch bag and taking another step into the room. your students were silent as he stepped into the room. “so sorry to interrupt. i had my free period so i thought i could swing by to drop it off,” he shrugged casually. 

you stepped forward and took your lunch from his hands. “thank you,” you whispered coming closer to wonwoo than what was probably appropriate. wonwoo’s hands brushed yours briefly, and he pulled away. “once again, apologies for interrupting,” he said calmly walking out the door, sending you a slight smile on the way. you paused momentarily but snapped out of it since you needed to finish this lecture. “okay, so where were we?” you asked the class. but when you looked out into the sea of young faces, there was a collective look of shock and bewilderment on their faces. “what? is there something on my face?” you joked. 

“what was that?” daniel gasped, utterly confused.

“what was what?” you asked looking around the class, playing coy.

“mr. jeon basically invading your personal space!” mina yelped.

“i wouldn’t say that was necessarily invading my personal space….” you trailed off. 

“he touched your hand!” lily exclaimed. 

“i’m sure that was just an accident,” you insisted. you play with the ring on your finger as she says this. you were surprised none of them had pointed that out since you made an effort to speak with your hands today. “are you and mr. jeon together, miss ___?” daniel asked. 

“that’s not an appropriate question to ask, daniel,” you said, but in reality, you were hoping they were going to guess it sooner than later; your hands were tired from motioning with them all day.

“oh come on… miss ___,” lily whined. but before you could banter with them further the bell for class change rang.

“oh, look at that, it seems as though it’s time for everyone to get going to the next class. wouldn’t want you to be late,” you ushered them and turned off the projector. there were some grumbles of discontent, but they left eventually.

“you saw that right?” mina grabbed lily’s arm as they left the classroom.

“noticed what?” lily asked.

“the ring!” daniel exclaimed. “come on… there’s no way you didn’t see it.” lily continued to look at them confused. “lily! she was waving her hand around like she wanted us to see it! no way the most delusional person here didn’t see it,” daniel groaned.

“i am not delusional,” lily huffed. “but… if there was a ring… maybe they are together…” 

“well, luckily for us, we have mr. jeon’s class next,” mina smiled, practically grabbing lily’s hand.

“i’m giving you all time to work on the essay in class. please, take advantage of this time,” wonwoo announced to the class. he sat down and fidgeted with the bouquet he had under his desk. he was planning on taking you out to a surprise dinner tonight. after the school bell rang and you met him outside, he would bring out the flowers and ask you to dinner out in the parking lot. this would be his grand gesture to let the students know. plus, maybe he would be able to hold your hand too. another gesture to signal your relationship. 

 there was some quiet whispering going on, but that was expected and he paid no mind to it. but, suddenly, someone was standing, or multiple someones, at the foot of his desk. “lily, daniel, mina. what can i do for you three?” he asked looking up at the three students. 

“are you and miss ___ together?” lily asked plainly. wonwoo swallowed nervously. though the two of you planned to tell the students, he was so used to keeping your relationship secret from the students he froze. “uh - what? where have you gotten that idea?” he cleared his throat. 

“well, you two aren’t exactly inconspicuous,” daniel said. wonwoo tried to hide his shock. he thought the two of you did quite well hiding it up until today. the whole “forgetting your lunch” thing was staged by him, but before he thought he was laying low. he was honestly torn if this is how he wanted to tell his students. 

it wasn’t.

so his brain went into autopilot. “lily, i thought i told you not to pry into personal matters? miss ___ and i have a close partnership as the youngest faculty members at this school. however, i do not want this to lead any misunderstandings among students,” he said in the best authoritative voice he could muster through his shock. 

they looked guilty and a bit dejected. “sorry, mr. jeon. we won’t ask again,” mina apologized first. daniel and lily followed suit. “please get back to your work,” he said. they nodded and headed back to work.

“maybe he was lying,” daniel said. mina scowled at him. “i did not like getting told off by him,” mina grumbled. “i didn’t know he was gonna be like that.” lily opened her locker and grabbed the books she needed for homework. “whatever, guys. i’ll just give up all hope on this,” lily sighed. “it’s not worth thinking about.” 

they exited the school with their bags. then they see a familiar figure stroll into the faculty section of the parking lot. “wait… was that mr. jeon… with flowers?” mina asked, pointing in the direction of him. he was carrying a bouquet and a smile. he tapped the shoulder of someone. she turned around. “miss ___?” mina gasped as she watched the scene unfold. mr. jeon handed miss ___ the flowers. they hugged and she kissed his cheek. “what? i thought he said they weren’t like that?” lily exclaimed.

“he must have lied,” daniel shrugged.

“why are you so casual about this?” mina elbowed him.

“well, like i told mr. jeon, they’re so obvious,” daniel smiled smugly. 

“wonwoo…” you giggled as you took the flowers he handed to you.

“so dinner at 7 at that new restaurant,” he smiled, grabbing your hand. you smiled and kissed his cheek. you glanced over at the car loop where you saw some familiar young faces. “so, this was your grand gesture,” you smiled. 

“well, yeah,” he blushed. “but, i am also holding your hand like we discussed this morning.” you laughed and nodded. he indeed was holding your hand. “the grandest of gestures,” you kidded. he smiled and opened the car door for you. before you got in you turned and waved at the three faces watching after you, ring glinting in the afternoon light. wonwoo turned to see who you were waving at. he shot them a wink and climbed into the driver’s seat. “i love you,” he said smiling.“i love you more.” you said smiling grabbing his hand.

“impossible.”

minli | so thanks for reading! lightly proofread! i'm on spring break so that's why i go around to getting this out! thanks for you guys who stuck around :) i went through the people who asked for a part 2 a long time ago and tagging you all even if you don't remember the og fic.... taglist: @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

@skz-tua-txt-storytimes @ellelabelle @minghaossv @gie-gie-gie-gie @tootheiass @stendy4life

[scarletwinterxx]

chase the cut - jeon wonwoo imagine

hello~ i've been wanting to write a med au for so long, i tried my best here so i hope you like it!🤍

alsooo i opened an acc on x. you can follow me there, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You bolt out of the room like your life depends on it.

Behind you, heavy footsteps follow, growing louder with each second. "Come back here!" Wonwoo’s usually calm voice has a sharp edge, but you don’t dare slow down

"It’s just a scratch!" you yell over your shoulder

"A scratch?!" Wonwoo sounds offended. "You’re a surgeon, and you’re bleeding! Do you hear yourself?"

Mingyu and Seokmin barely react as you sprint past them. Mingyu, sipping his coffee, raises a brow. "What did she do now?"

"She got a cut," Wonwoo answers, still in pursuit

Seokmin blinks. "A cut? We’re literally surrounded by scalpels and needles every day—why is he freaking out?"

You duck behind a chair, panting. "Because he’s a pediatric surgeon," you whisper dramatically. "He deals with tiny humans, not full-grown surgeons with minor injuries!"

Wonwoo rounds the corner, eyes locked on you. "You. Sit. Down."

Mingyu, ever the agent of chaos, casually blocks your escape route. "Just let him patch you up. Or keep running—I’m entertained either way."

Seokmin grins. "I say we take bets. Five bucks says he tackles her."

You glare at them. "Some friends you are."

Wonwoo takes a step forward, and you take a step back. It’s a ridiculous standoff in the middle of the hospital lounge.

"Do not make me chase you around the hospital," he warns.

You make a break for it. Seokmin and Mingyu laugh as Wonwoo groans and sprints after you. He catches you in less than five seconds. He’s faster than he looks, and before you can dodge, an arm wraps around your waist, effectively trapping you.

"Gotcha," he mutters, his breath warm against your ear

You squirm uselessly. "This is unfair! You have long legs!"

"You have terrible decision-making skills," he counters, steering you toward the nearest chair with ease. Seokmin and Mingyu watch like it’s their favorite reality show, Mingyu even grabbing a snack.

Wonwoo lets go just long enough to grab the antiseptic wipes, and that’s when the real panic sets in.

"Wait, wait, wait—just let me mentally prepare—"

"You had plenty of time to do that while you were running," he deadpans

The moment the antiseptic-soaked wipe touches your skin, you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted. "Ow, ow, OW—"

Wonwoo sighs. "You literally cut people open for a living, and you’re whining over this?"

Seokmin snickers. "Zero pain tolerance. It’s honestly embarrassing."

Mingyu nods sagely. "Every time she gets a paper cut, she acts like she’s been stabbed."

You glare at them through watery eyes. "This hurts—"

"It stings," Wonwoo corrects, holding your wrist firmly as you try to pull away. "Stay still before you actually make it worse."

You groan dramatically, but Wonwoo, ever patient, finishes patching you up despite your flinching and whining. When he’s done, he presses the bandage down with a little more force than necessary, just to be petty.

"There. All better," he says, finally letting go.

You cradle your injured hand and pout. "You’re mean."

Wonwoo exhales, exasperated. Then, softer, "You should be more careful." 

For a second, something unreadable passes between you. Then Seokmin ruins it. "So, who owes me five bucks? I said he’d tackle her, but technically, it was more of a grab—"

"Pay up, Seokmin," Mingyu smirks. "A catch is a catch."

You groan, while Wonwoo just shakes his head, rubbing his temples like he regrets ever being friends with you three.

As soon as Wonwoo walks out, probably to regain some of his sanity before starting his rounds, you finally relax. Big mistake because the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you feel it—the shift in atmosphere. You don’t even have to look up to know that Mingyu and Seokmin are staring at you with that look. The one that spells trouble.

Seokmin grins. "Sooo…"

Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. "Are you two dating, or is Wonwoo just your personal on-call nurse?"

You groan. "Oh my god, not this again."

"Look, I’m just saying," Seokmin continues, leaning back like he has all the time in the world, "Wonwoo doesn’t act like that with anyone else."

"Yeah, I mean, I literally saw him step over a crying intern last week," Mingyu adds. "But the second you get a tiny little cut—"

"A painful cut," you interject

"—he’s running after you like you just lost a limb," Mingyu finishes, ignoring you

You roll your eyes. "He’s just like that."

Seokmin scoffs. "No, he’s not."

Mingyu hums. "Do you ever see him chase me down when I get hurt?"

"You get hurt on purpose for attention," you deadpan.

"Fair," Mingyu concedes. "But still. Wonwoo’s different with you."

You shake your head, standing up. "Whatever. I have patients to see."

As you reach for the door, Seokmin calls out, "Hey, don’t run too fast—wouldn’t want to scrape your knee. Wonwoo might carry you to the ER next time." Mingyu cackles as you slam the door on your way out.

It’s way past midnight—closer to 3 AM, when Wonwoo finally walks into the on-call room. His hair is slightly disheveled, white coat draped over his arm, and dark circles under his eyes deeper than before. It’s been a brutal shift.

Seokmin, who’s sitting at one of the desks, barely acknowledges his entrance, too focused on some patient charts. But Wonwoo doesn’t need to say anything. He just walks over to the bunk beds, takes one look at Mingyu—who’s sprawled out, snoring on the bottom bunk—and wordlessly yanks him off. With a loud thud, Mingyu hits the floor.

"Huh—?!" Mingyu startles awake, flailing like a fish out of water. "What the—?!"

"Get up," Wonwoo says flatly.

Mingyu groans dramatically, rubbing his eyes. "Dude, what is your problem—"

Wonwoo ignores him, already turning toward you. You’re curled up awkwardly on the couch, using a rolled-up hoodie as a pillow, arms folded in a way that guarantees you’ll wake up with at least three different cramps.

Wonwoo sighs. Then, in a tone much softer than the one he used on Mingyu, he murmurs, "Get in the bed."

You don’t stir at first, still half-asleep, but then you mumble, "‘M fine here…"

Wonwoo doesn’t buy it. "You’ll complain about back pain tomorrow, and we both know it."

Seokmin finally looks up, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Mingyu, still half on the floor, blinks at Wonwoo, then at you. Slowly, a knowing smirk creeps onto his face.

"Ohhh," Mingyu hums. "This is why you pulled me off the bed."

Wonwoo doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he reaches down and lightly taps your arm. "Come on, just sleep on the bed."

You grumble but finally crack your eyes open, too exhausted to argue. Wonwoo steps back as you groggily push yourself up, stretching. You shuffle toward the now-empty bottom bunk, collapsing onto it with a sigh.

"See? Much better," Wonwoo murmurs, pulling the blanket over you without a second thought.

Mingyu and Seokmin share a look.

"Dude," Mingyu says once Wonwoo turns around. "You could’ve told me to move instead of dragging me off like a sack of potatoes."

"You wouldn’t have moved fast enough," Wonwoo replies.

Seokmin smirks. "So, she gets the ‘gentle tuck-in’ treatment while Mingyu gets yeeted off the bed? Interesting."

Mingyu nods, still rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, Wonwoo. Interesting."

Wonwoo gives them both an unimpressed look before muttering, "I’m going to sleep," and heading toward the other bunk.

Even with his back turned, he can feel their teasing grins.

You’re pretty sure you’ve ascended to another plane of existence. Or maybe you’ve died and are currently haunting the hospital as a sleep-deprived ghost. Either way, you’ve been awake for way too long over 32 hours, to be exact and your body is done.

Mingyu isn’t faring much better. He’s slumped over the shared office desk, forehead pressed against an open patient chart, lightly snoring. You’re half-sitting, half-melting into the couch, cradling a lukewarm coffee that does nothing to fight the exhaustion clawing at your soul.

And then because life isn’t unfair enough already, Seokmin walks in. Bright-eyed. Energized. Well-rested. The worst kind of person.

"Good morning, besties!" Seokmin chirps, stretching like he didn’t just take a whole day off.

You don’t even look at him. "I will kill you."

"I second that," Mingyu mumbles into his chart.

Seokmin gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Why the hostility? I thought you’d be happy to see me!"

"We hate you," Mingyu groans.

"You’re dead to us," you add.

Seokmin grins. "Wow, so much love in this room." He walks over and purposefully ruffles Mingyu’s hair, making him whine in protest. Then he turns to you, poking your cheek. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," you mumble. "Exactly what I needed to hear."

Seokmin flops onto one of the chairs, grinning. "You know what I did yesterday? Slept a full eight hours. Went out for brunch. Touched grass."

Mingyu lifts his head just to glare. "Leave. Now."

Before Seokmin can keep being insufferable, the door opens again. Wonwoo walks in.

And unlike Seokmin who is obnoxiously loud about being well-rested Wonwoo looks just as exhausted as you and Mingyu. His coat is slightly wrinkled, his tie is loosened, and there’s an untouched coffee in his hand that he’s clearly forgotten about. He glances at Seokmin who looks too refreshed to be tolerable then at Mingyu, who is back to pretending to be dead.

Then his gaze lands on you.

You blink at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Hey."

"Hey," Wonwoo murmurs. He steps closer, eyes scanning over you in that way he always does when he’s subtly checking if you’re okay.

"Did you sleep?" he asks.

You let out a weak, humorless laugh. "Did you?"

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets his coffee down and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Seokmin—who has been watching the whole thing like a spectator at a soap opera—leans back with a smirk. "Wow, this is so interesting."

Mingyu groans, flopping back onto the desk. "Not now, Seokmin. I’m too tired for this."

Wonwoo ignores them both. He looks at you again, eyes softer now. "Eat something and get some rest."

"You too," you mumble, already sinking further into the couch.

Wonwoo exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

Seokmin wiggles his eyebrows. "Ohhh, this is fun."

"You know what else is fun?" You finally turn your head to glare at Seokmin. "Murder."

Wonwoo just sighs again and walks over to the bunk beds, mumbling something about how all of you are hopeless. Mingyu groans like he’s been personally attacked when his pager starts beeping. He doesn’t even look at it just slams his forehead against the desk.

"No. No, no, no. I reject this," he mumbles against the wood.

You barely have the energy to process the noise until of course yours goes off too. You and Mingyu make eye contact, equally dead inside.

Seokmin, the only one without a pager going off, grins. "Wow. Couldn’t be me."

"I will end you," you mutter, already reaching for your coat.

Wonwoo watches silently as Mingyu sluggishly gets up, flipping his pager over to check the message. He sighs. "ER’s a mess. Multiple traumas incoming."

You check yours, blinking slowly as the words process in your sleep-deprived brain. "OR needs backup. Guess I’m heading there."

Mingyu looks at you, eyes drooping. "Want to switch? I don’t want to talk to families."

"Absolutely not."

Mingyu pouts but doesn’t argue. He drags himself to his feet, rubbing his face aggressively like that’ll give him the will to live.

Seokmin claps his hands together, looking way too cheerful. "Well, have fun, kids! I’ll be here. Rested. Thriving."

Mingyu flips him off on the way out.

You barely register Wonwoo standing beside you until he tugs at your sleeve. When you look up, he’s frowning slightly.

"You sure you’re okay?" he asks, voice quieter now.

You exhale. "No, but I don’t have a choice."

Wonwoo’s frown deepens like he wants to say something else, but before he can, a voice crackles over the intercom calling for additional surgeons.

You sigh, giving him a tired half-smile. "See you later."

Wonwoo watches as you head out, his jaw tightening.

Seokmin hums as the door closes behind you. "You know," he says, stretching out on the chair, "for someone who refuses to admit his feelings, you really don’t do a good job of hiding them."

Wonwoo shoots him a glare, but Seokmin just grins.

A few more hours later, Wonwoo rubs at his eyes as he shrugs on his coat, his shift finally over. He grabs his bag from the office, shoulders aching from exhaustion. Just as he’s about to leave, the door swings open, and Mingyu stumbles in, looking like he’s barely holding himself together.

"ER was hell," Mingyu groans, dropping onto the couch with a loud thud. "I think I aged five years."

"You already look thirty," Wonwoo says, deadpan.

Mingyu glares at him, too tired to argue. Instead, he waves a lazy hand. 

Then Wonwoo asks "Where’s she? OR still has her hostage?"

The other doctor nods "She hasn’t come back yet. She’s probably running on caffeine and spite at this point."

Wonwoo hesitates for a second before speaking. "Make sure she eats and gets some rest when she’s done."

Mingyu cracks one eye open, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "You like her."

Wonwoo stares at him blankly. "Make sure she eats, Mingyu."

"You like her," Mingyu repeats, grinning now. Wonwoo doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Mingyu calls after him.

"Home," Wonwoo mutters.

"Liar!" Mingyu shouts, but Wonwoo is already gone.

What feels like hours to Mingyu before you entered the room. You trudge into the on-call room, every bone in your body protesting. Your scrub top is slightly wrinkled, your hair is a mess, and you’re running on nothing but sheer willpower at this point.

Mingyu is already knocked out on the bottom bunk, snoring lightly. You barely spare him a glance before collapsing onto the couch.

That’s when you notice it.

On the small coffee table, there’s a neatly packed meal. Your favorite.

You blink, staring at it like it’s a mirage. There’s even a bottle of water next to it, condensation still fresh, like someone just left it there.

Curious, you reach out and poke at the food, half-expecting it to disappear. When it doesn’t, you frown.

"Who…?" you murmur to yourself.

Mingyu shifts on the bed, groaning. "Shut up and eat."

You glance at him. "Did you get this?"

He grunts, eyes still closed. "Nope."

You pause. "Then who—?"

Mingyu cracks one eye open, smirking lazily. "Who do you think?"

That stops you. Your brain, sluggish from exhaustion, takes a moment to process.

Then it clicks.

Wonwoo.

You stare at the food, heart doing something weird in your chest.

Mingyu snickers before rolling over. "Just eat, dumbass."

You don’t argue. But as you take the first bite, you can’t help but think about a certain pediatric surgeon who definitely isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is.

You exhale, shaking your head to yourself. Subtle, Jeon.

Mingyu shifts on the bed again, cracking one eye open. "You’re thinking too hard about this," he mutters, voice thick with sleep.

You stab at your food with your chopsticks. "No, I’m not."

"Yeah, you are."

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. "Go back to sleep."

Mingyu hums lazily, but then he adds, "He does this all the time, you know."

You pause mid-bite. "What?"

Mingyu smirks, barely awake but still committed to being a menace. "Making sure you eat. Checking if you’re okay. Wonwoo’s always been like that… but only with you."

Your stomach does something stupid at that. "That’s not true."

Mingyu chuckles, shifting onto his side. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

You open your mouth to argue, but Mingyu’s already passed out again, snoring softly. You sigh, leaning back on the couch. The food is warm, comforting, and frustratingly thoughtful.

You try not to think about it too much. You fail.

It’s another long shift for you.

After parting ways with Seokmin, you make your way to the nurses’ station, hoping to check on some charts before heading back to the on-call room. You’re running on fumes at this point, but the habit of making sure everything is in order before you crash is too strong to ignore.

As you approach, you hear a group of nurses talking in hushed but excited tones. You don’t think much of it until you catch a familiar name.

“Dr. Jeon is so amazing,” one of them gushes, practically sighing. “Did you see him with that little boy’s parents? He was so gentle and reassuring.”

“I know! And he’s always so calm, no matter how bad things get.”

“Not to mention how good he looks in scrubs,” another nurse adds, and they all giggle.

You freeze mid-step, blinking.

Are they seriously—?

“I swear, if he wasn’t so intimidating, I’d totally ask him out.”

“Right? But he’s always so serious. Like, have you ever seen him smile?”

“Only sometimes. But guess what?” The first nurse leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I did see him smile today.”

“No way. When?”

“When he was talking to Dr. Y/N.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, wait, you’re right! He actually looked... softer?”

“And she’s the only one he ever seems to talk to outside of work stuff.”

Another nurse sighs dramatically. “That’s so unfair. Do you think they’re, like, a thing?”

Your brain short-circuits. You have got to get out of here. Clearing your throat loudly, you step into their line of sight, making them jump. “Hey, uh… I just need to check some charts.”

The group scrambles, trying to look busy, but you can feel their eyes on you, filled with curiosity and knowing looks. Great. Just great.

As you grab the nearest patient file, you swear you hear one of them whisper, “Oh my god, she totally heard us.”

You pretend you didn’t.

You nearly drop the patient file when a rolling chair suddenly appears beside you.

“So,” Seokmin drawls, arms crossed as he lazily spins in the chair, “how do I break it to them that Wonwoo is a total softie for you?”

You glare at him, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”

Seokmin grins, completely ignoring your complaint. “Seriously, though. They think he’s this untouchable, brooding genius, but we both know he turns into a golden retriever when it comes to you.”

Your eye twitches. “He does not—”

Seokmin cuts you off with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god, you’re in denial.”

You slap his arm with the patient file. “I am not.”

He just laughs, rubbing his arm. “Y/N, I literally watched him rip Mingyu off the bottom bunk just so you could sleep comfortably.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Okay, fine. That was suspiciously caring behavior.

Seokmin smirks, clearly enjoying your inner struggle. “And let’s not forget how he tells Mingyu to make sure you eat and sleep. Or how he leaves food for you. Or how he only ever gets flustered when it involves you.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you.”

He pats your back like a supportive older brother. “No, you hate that I’m right.”

Before you can argue, one of the nurses clears her throat loudly, and you glance up to see them all very obviously pretending not to listen.

Seokmin leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “They’re totally listening.”

“I know, Seokmin.”

“Wanna give them a show? Maybe dramatically sigh Wonwoo’s name?”

You grab the patient file again and smack him with it. That’s when another doctor—Dr. Lee from orthopedics—walks up beside you.

"Dr. Y/N," he greets smoothly, offering a smile. "Haven’t seen you around much. Busy saving lives?"

You glance up, slightly caught off guard by the sudden conversation. "Uh, yeah. Something like that."

Dr. Lee leans casually against the counter, watching you with interest. "You should take a break sometime. Maybe grab a coffee?"

Oh. Oh.

Is he… flirting?

You don’t get the chance to react before you hear a loud, exaggerated cough from nearby. Seokmin is sitting just a few feet away, blatantly eavesdropping with zero shame. He’s pretending to look at a chart, but his expression is screaming Oh? What’s this?

You try to ignore him, forcing a polite smile at Dr. Lee. "That’s nice of you, but I’m actually running on negative sleep right now."

Dr. Lee chuckles. "All the more reason to step away for a bit. It’s just coffee, no pressure."

Seokmin lets out another obnoxious cough. "Thirsty, huh?"

You whip your head toward him, glaring. "Do you need medical attention, Seokmin?"

He grins. "Nah, I’m just—" he gestures vaguely between you and Dr. Lee "—observing."

Dr. Lee, bless him, is oblivious to the absolute menace that is Seokmin. "No worries. If you change your mind, let me know," he says with an easy smile before walking off.

The moment he’s gone, Seokmin wheels his chair over at full speed, stopping right beside you.

"So," he drawls. "Are you gonna tell Wonwoo, or should I?"

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Seokmin, I swear to god—"

Of course it didn’t take long. Mingyu and Wonwoo are lounging in the on-call room when the door slams open. Seokmin bursts in, cackling like a maniac, running full speed across the room.

And right behind him. You.

"LEE SEOKMIN, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Before he can reach the safety of the bunk beds, you launch yourself at him, nearly tackling him to the ground. Seokmin barely stays on his feet, wheezing through his laughter.

Mingyu, sitting up from the bottom bunk, blinks in confusion. "…Do we want to know?"

Wonwoo, sitting at the small desk, doesn’t even look up. "No."

Seokmin, still trying to escape your grip, gasps between laughs. "I—I was just helping!"

"You were eavesdropping and causing problems on purpose!" you yell, tightening your hold around his waist as he tries to wriggle free.

Mingyu perks up at that. "Ooh, what happened? Spill."

Seokmin dramatically falls onto the couch, bringing you down with him. "Our dear Y/N here was getting flirted with."

Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

Seokmin grins, panting slightly. "Dr. Lee. Ortho. Real smooth. Asked her to coffee."

Mingyu gasps like this is the most dramatic thing he’s ever heard. "And you tackled him over this?!"

"No, I tackled him because he ran in here to tell you two like a gossiping old lady!" you snap, still half on top of Seokmin, who is not helping by laughing even harder.

Mingyu turns to Wonwoo, who has yet to react. "Wonwoo. Thoughts?"

Wonwoo, still not looking up, simply flips a page in his book.  Seokmin wheezes. You groan, letting your head drop onto the couch.

Mingyu clutches his chest, looking between you and Wonwoo with pure delight. "Oh, this is better than a telenovela."

You push yourself up from where you were half-crushing Seokmin, brushing off your scrubs as you glare at him. Before you can properly scold him for being the absolute worst, Wonwoo finally speaks—completely nonchalant, like this whole thing isn’t ridiculous.

"He asked if you wanted coffee?"

You pause. Seokmin and Mingyu do not. Seokmin looks thrilled. Mingyu straight-up leans forward, eyes sparkling with interest.

You narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. "Why do you sound like that?"

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his book. "Like what?"

Mingyu grins. "Yeah, like what, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo flips a page. "Just asking."

You scoff. "You buy me coffee all the time"

Wonwoo hums. "Exactly."

Your brain short-circuits. "…Wait. What does that mean?*"

Wonwoo, still infuriatingly casual, finally glances up. "Nothing. Just seems unnecessary to get coffee with someone else when you already get it from me."

Seokmin and Mingyu explode.

"OH, THAT'S RICH—"

"DID HE JUST—"

You groan into your hands as they lose their minds. Wonwoo, unbothered, closes his book and stands. "I’m going to get coffee. You want one or not?"

Mingyu is on the floor laughing. Seokmin is gasping for air. And you—you are never going to hear the end of this.

Wonwoo, as unbothered as ever, grabs his ID badge and heads for the door.

Mingyu and Seokmin are still wheezing from his last comment, but you’re too busy processing to move.

He’s almost out when he pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Not coming?"

You cross your arms, still suspicious. "I think I’ll stay here and recover from whatever that was."

Wonwoo shrugs. "Suit yourself."

He steps out. You don’t follow but right before the door swings shut, you shout after him

"Caramel macchiato, extra shot, not too sweet!"

Seokmin and Mingyu stare at you. You stare back.

Then Mingyu loses it, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bunk. "OH, SO YOU’RE NOT GONNA FOLLOW HIM, BUT YOU’RE STILL MAKING HIM GET YOU COFFEE?"

Seokmin clutches his chest, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Unbelievable. Absolutely shameless."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "I hate you both."

Mingyu wipes fake tears. "No, you hate that you’re in too deep and we’re just here to witness it."

It’s your well-deserved day off, which means the hospital is not your problem for once. But unfortunately for Wonwoo, it means he is the problem of the two very nosy individuals stuck with him today.

Mingyu and Seokmin have been relentless since morning, waiting for the perfect opportunity to grill him—and the second they’re all in the on-call room, Seokmin strikes.

"So... you and Y/N."

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his tablet. "What about her?"

Mingyu flops onto the couch dramatically. "You know exactly what about her."

Seokmin leans forward, grinning. "You act different around her."

"I don’t."

"Oh, you absolutely do," Mingyu says, propping his chin on his hand. "You let her get away with things you’d never tolerate from us."

Seokmin nods enthusiastically. "Like running away when she has a cut?"

"Or demanding coffee like she’s a queen and you’re her personal barista?" Mingyu adds.

Wonwoo finally glances up. "She doesn’t demand. I offer."

Silence.

Mingyu and Seokmin gasp.

"HE ADMITS IT!" Seokmin nearly topples over. "HE VOLUNTARILY GETS HER COFFEE!"

Wonwoo sighs. "You two have too much free time."

"And you have too much denial," Mingyu shoots back. "Be honest, if she asked for your left kidney, you’d at least consider it."

Seokmin laughs. "He’d have it prepped and ready before she even finished asking."

Wonwoo rubs his temples. "You’re both insufferable."

"And you’re in love," Mingyu sing-songs.

"I am not," Wonwoo deadpans.

Seokmin smirks. "Would you say no if she asked you out?"

Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately, making the two guys exchange another look.

"Oh my God," Mingyu whispers. "You wouldn’t say no."

"Pack it up, folks, we got him," Seokmin grins. "That’s a wrap."

Meanwhile it’s your day off, technically you were supposed to be having a relaxing day off. No pagers, no surgeries, no Mingyu whining for coffee or Seokmin launching into dramatic gossip. Just a simple grocery run—bread, eggs, maybe even some overpriced snacks if you were feeling indulgent.

But fate, as usual, had other plans.

The sound of screeching tires and the crash of metal on metal jolts you from your thoughts as you step out of the store. A small crowd is already forming near an intersection, the sight of two badly dented cars making your stomach drop.

Then you hear it—panicked voices.

"She’s pregnant!"

Your body moves before your brain fully catches up. Pushing past stunned bystanders, you rush toward the most damaged car, where a man is frantically trying to pry open the passenger door. Inside, a woman—clearly pregnant—clutches her stomach, her face contorted in pain.

"Ma’am, can you hear me?" you ask, voice sharp with urgency.

She gasps, nodding weakly. "M-My baby—"

You glance around. The fire department isn’t here yet, neither are the paramedics. The door is crushed in, and she’s stuck.

Your pulse pounds, but you push the panic aside. Focus.

You turn to the man still struggling with the door. "We need to get her out, but carefully. Do you have something I can use to break the glass?"

He nods shakily, rushing to his car. Meanwhile, you crouch by the woman, speaking in a soothing tone even as your mind races through possible complications.

"You're doing great. Just keep breathing, okay? Help is coming."

She nods again, but her grip on her belly tightens.

You don’t have your scrubs, your hospital badge, or even your gloves. But right now, none of that matters because doctor or not—you have to help her.

You refuse to leave her side. Even as sirens wail in the distance and bystanders are urged to step back, you stay crouched next to the woman, monitoring her breathing, checking for signs of distress.

"You're okay. Just hold on," you murmur, your hand steady on her wrist, feeling the rapid pulse beneath your fingers. The first responders finally arrive, moving quickly to assess the scene. 

A firefighter rushes toward you. "Ma’am, we need to extract her now. You should move back."

"Not until she’s safe," you insist.

They're working on prying the door open when it happens—

An explosion.

A sudden BOOM rocks the area as flames burst from the wreckage. The force knocks you backward, and before you can react, shards of glass and debris fly straight toward you and the pregnant woman.

Your first instinct is to shield her. You duck, arms raised, making sure not a single piece touches her. She screams, but the paramedics quickly cover her with a thick emergency blanket.

You barely notice the sharp stings as glass embeds itself into your arm, your shoulder, a few grazing your cheek. The pain is secondary.

"She’s stable!" one of the EMTs shouts, carefully moving the woman onto a stretcher. "Let’s transport her now!" You exhale in relief, watching as they wheel her toward the ambulance. You step back, feeling a slight dizziness, but shake it off.

"Doctor?" One of the firefighters eyes you carefully.

"I’m fine," you say automatically.

The ambulance ride is a blur of flashing lights and hushed urgency. The paramedics work efficiently, monitoring the pregnant woman’s vitals as you sit beside her, keeping her calm. You press a gauze pad against one of the deeper cuts on your arm, but otherwise, you don’t acknowledge your injuries.

When the ambulance finally arrives at the hospital, the woman is rushed into the ER. You climb out right after them, rolling your stiff shoulders, determined to go check on her—

Only to run straight into Mingyu.

"Hey, we got a—" His usual laid-back tone vanishes the moment his eyes land on you. His brows shoot up. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I’m fine," you say immediately, waving him off. Big mistake.

The moment you move, dizziness washes over you. You stumble slightly, catching yourself against the wall.

Mingyu lunges forward. "Yeah, okay, fine people totally do that."

His eyes sweep over you. Your torn sleeve, the cuts littering your arm, the faint streak of blood on your cheek. "Are you serious right now?"

You sigh. "It’s not that bad—"

"Not that bad?" He gestures wildly at you. "You were supposed to be on your day off, not playing action hero in the middle of the street!"

Mingyu groans, already reaching for his pager. "Seokmin and Wonwoo are going to kill me."

Mingyu barely has time to react before your knees buckle.

"Oh, for—okay, nope, you’re done," he mutters, catching you before you hit the ground. His hands grip your shoulders, guiding you onto a nearby gurney despite your weak protests.

"I—I'm fine," you mumble, though the dizziness makes your head swim. The pain you’ve been stubbornly ignoring is very much making itself known now, sharp and stinging from every cut.

"Uh-huh, tell that to your blood loss," Mingyu huffs as he quickly assesses the wounds. "How are you this dumb?"

You try to glare at him, but it’s half-hearted at best. He just sighs, guiding you to the nearest vacant bed then grabbing antiseptics and bandages from a nearby tray.

"This is gonna sting," he warns, dabbing at the gash on your arm.

The burn makes you flinch. "Mingyu—"

But before you can complain, the door to the ER slams open.

"Where is she?"

Your stomach drops.

Wonwoo stands at the entrance, still in his scrubs, his chest rising and falling like he ran all the way here. His usual composed demeanor is nowhere to be seen.

The moment his eyes land on you—bruised, bloodied, and definitely not fine—his expression shifts into something dark.

"You have got to be kidding me," he mutters, storming over

Mingyu looks up but barely gets a word in before Wonwoo cuts in, voice tight. "What the hell happened?"

You open your mouth, but Mingyu beats you to it. "She was out running errands and decided to become a damn superhero. Got caught in a car explosion or something—"

"It wasn’t an explosion—" you try, but Wonwoo turns his glare on you so fast you shut up.

"You refused to tell anyone you were hurt?" Wonwoo’s voice is low, laced with barely contained frustration. "Do you even know how reckless that is?"

You blink at him, a little caught off guard. Wonwoo gets annoyed, sure—but this? This anger? This fear simmering under his words?

Mingyu shifts awkwardly. "Uh, so, I’ll just—keep cleaning these wounds?"

Wonwoo ignores him.

"You should’ve been treated immediately," he snaps. "You could’ve gone into shock, Y/N. You could’ve—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

You swallow, voice quieter now. "I had to make sure she was okay."

Wonwoo stares at you for a long moment. His jaw clenches. Then, without another word, he grabs the antiseptic from Mingyu’s hand and kneels down beside you.

"Hey, I was—" Mingyu starts

"You’re taking too long," Wonwoo says flatly, inspecting your arm.

Mingyu throws his hands up. "Oh, I’m the problem? Sure, yeah, okay."

But you don’t pay attention to Mingyu anymore—because Wonwoo is suddenly so close, his fingers gentle as he carefully tends to your wounds. The frustration is still in his eyes, but his touch is steady, precise.

You wince when he presses the gauze against a deeper cut, and his grip instinctively tightens around your wrist. His voice softens, just a fraction.

"I don’t care how capable you are," he mutters. "Don’t ever do that again."

You bite down hard on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. But the antiseptic burns, and the way Wonwoo presses down on your wounds with such precision makes it impossible to ignore the sharp sting.

Your eyes start to prickle. You will not cry. You refuse.

Mingyu, ever the observant one, notices immediately. He leans in slightly and mumbles, “Hey, man, she’s already injured. You’re making her cry.”

Wonwoo freezes.

Your head snaps up. “I am not crying.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You kinda look like you’re about to.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his temple. “Mingyu, stop talking.”

Mingyu just shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, maybe be a little gentler? You know, since you care so much.”

Wonwoo pointedly ignores him, but his grip on your arm loosens just slightly, his movements becoming even more careful. He still looks pissed, but his touch is softer now, like he’s trying to make up for it.

You try to focus on anything other than the fact that your face feels ridiculously warm.

Mingyu stands, stretching with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, I’m gonna check on the woman since someone needs to be useful around here.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “I’m useful.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell that to your blood loss.” He waves you off, throwing Wonwoo a quick glance before walking out, leaving the two of you alone.

The silence that follows is heavy. Wonwoo is still focused on cleaning your wounds, but his jaw is tight, and his movements though gentler now are still a little too precise.

You watch him for a second before speaking. “You’re really mad, huh?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “No.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

His grip tightens just slightly before he lets out a quiet, frustrated sigh. “…Yes.”

You shift a little, suddenly feeling weird under his gaze. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Wonwoo finally looks up at you, and the way his eyes darken makes you shut up real quick.

“Not that bad?” he repeats, voice low. “You were in an accident, Y/N. You got caught in a literal explosion.”

You try to brush it off. “It wasn’t that big—”

"You were bleeding and didn't even think to get yourself treated first."

You falter. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, like he’s trying really hard to rein himself in.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen people come in, thinking they were fine, only to collapse later?” His voice is quieter now, but it’s laced with something heavier. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

Wonwoo’s gaze softens—just barely—before he looks back down, carefully placing the last bandage over your arm. His hands linger for a second, his fingers warm against your skin.

“…Just don’t do that again.” His voice is quieter now, almost pleading. “Please.”

You sniffle, trying to hold it in, but a few tears betray you, slipping down your cheek before you can stop them. Wonwoo notices immediately. His hands, still hovering near your arm, tense.

“Hey—”

You quickly wipe at your face, sniffling again. “I’m fine.” Your voice wobbles, completely betraying you.

Wonwoo exhales through his nose, and before you can react, he’s reaching for the tissue box nearby, wordlessly handing you one.

You take it, mumbling, “Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in a small voice, you ask, “Is the woman okay?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches you carefully before finally saying, “She’s stable. Mingyu’s checking on her now.”

You nod, squeezing the tissue in your hand. “That’s good.”

Wonwoo still doesn’t look away. His lips press together like he wants to say something else, but in the end, all he does is let out a quiet sigh.

“You should rest,” he says softly. “You lost some of blood, you might feel light headed”

You huff, forcing a weak smile. “You sound like me when I tell my patients that.”

He doesn’t smile back. Instead, he reaches out, hesitates, then gently presses his hand against your head, smoothing down a stray strand of hair. The touch is so light, so careful, that it nearly makes you tear up all over again.

“Then take your own advice for once.”

Before you can even process the warmth of Wonwoo’s touch, the door bursts open.

“OH MY GOD—YOU’RE ALIVE!”

Seokmin practically lunges toward you, arms wide like he’s about to hug-tackle you, but Wonwoo smoothly steps in his way, stopping him with a single hand to his chest.

“Seokmin.” Wonwoo’s voice is flat. “She’s injured.”

Seokmin blinks, then gasps like he’s just realized something. “YOU’RE INJURED?!”

You stare at him, deadpan. “Did you think I was just here for fun?”

Seokmin dramatically grips his chest. “I—I just thought maybe you were being dramatic again! But you actually got hurt?!”

Wonwoo sighs, stepping aside because, at this point, there’s no stopping Seokmin. Sure enough, he leans down, carefully inspecting your bandages like a concerned mother.

“How bad is it? Are you dizzy? Do you need water? Do you need me to spoon-feed you soup?”

You groan, pushing his face away. “I’m fine.”

Seokmin ignores you and turns to Wonwoo. “Doctor, will she survive?”

Wonwoo looks unimpressed. “She lost blood but nothing major. She just needs to rest.”

Seokmin gasps again, gripping your hand. “BE STRONG, MY FRIEND.”

You shove him. “You’re the worst.”

Seokmin sniffs dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear. “If you do die, can I have your favorite pen?”

Wonwoo pinches the bridge of his nose while you grab a pillow and throw it at Seokmin’s face.

After everything that happened, of course Wonwoo refused to let you out of his sight or atleast have someone watching over you while the three guys finish their shift.

After work, the four of you go to a barbeque place you're a regular at.

You’re all starving by the time you reach the restaurant, exhaustion from the day momentarily forgotten at the sight of sizzling meat and bubbling stews.

Mingyu and Seokmin are loud, bickering over who gets to grill first, while you just lean back in your seat, still pretending to sulk.

Wonwoo, sitting beside you, wordlessly places some meat on your plate before you can even lift your chopsticks. Then, as if it’s second nature, he reaches over and rolls up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, neatly tucking it to make sure it doesn’t dip into the sauces.

Mingyu pauses mid-bite, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Seokmin, in the middle of arguing over dipping sauces, suddenly stops and squints.

The most shocking part?

You don’t even react. You just pick up your chopsticks, casually eating the food Wonwoo put on your plate like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Mingyu slowly puts his chopsticks down. “Okay, hold on.”

Seokmin leans in. “Have you always been like this?”

You blink. “Like what?”

Mingyu gestures vaguely at you and Wonwoo. “That.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, sipping his water. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Seokmin waves his chopsticks between you two. “You’re basically a married couple and she doesn’t even blink when you baby her.”

You scoff, but before you can argue, Wonwoo speaks first. “She’d spill sauce on herself if I didn’t.”

Mingyu stares. “So you admit you’re babying her.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “She doesn’t complain.”

You shove a piece of meat in your mouth to avoid answering, but your reddening ears don’t go unnoticed. Seokmin and Mingyu exchange knowing looks before grinning at each other.

Oh, they’re never letting this go.

The two of you are crammed into the back of a small van, bumping along a dirt road on the way to the rural clinic. It’s too early, you’re running on barely any sleep, and Mingyu has already decided now is the perfect time to interrogate you.

“So.” He leans back against his seat, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. “You and Wonwoo.”

You groan immediately. “Absolutely not. We’re not doing this.”

Mingyu grins. “Oh, we’re definitely doing this. We have, like, four more hours to go.”

You glare at him, but he just continues. “I mean, come on. He feeds you. He rolls up your sleeves. He practically tracks your movements in the hospital without even trying. And you don’t even react anymore.”

“Maybe I’m just used to it.” You shrug.

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying! You’re used to it. As in, it’s been happening for so long that you don’t even notice.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just how we are.”

Mingyu scoffs. “Please. If Seokmin tried to do that for you, you’d stab him with your chopsticks.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, Seokmin deserves it.”

Mingyu ignores that. “Just admit it. You like him.”

You pause. Then, after a beat, you say, “Of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

Mingyu groans dramatically, flopping onto your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

You shove him off. “And you’re annoying.”

He smirks. “I know. But I’m also right.”

You refuse to answer, choosing instead to look out the window. But you can’t shake the way your stomach flips at Mingyu’s words.

Mingyu stretches out his legs, looking way too comfortable for someone who’s supposed to be working. “Alright then, since you’re so sure it’s nothing—explain this to me.”

You sigh. “What now?”

He smirks. “Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone since med school?”

You blink. “What?”

Mingyu tilts his head, looking far too smug. “I mean, Seokmin and I have dated around. You’ve had, like, two almost-relationships. But Wonwoo? Not a single girlfriend. No dates. No flings. No nothing.” He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that weird?”

You scoff. “Maybe he’s just not interested.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Nah. I asked him once, and you know what he said?”

You hesitate. “…What?”

Mingyu grins. “‘I don’t have time for that.’” He leans in, lowering his voice dramatically. “But I think the real reason is that he’s been too busy looking after you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

Because now that you think about it… Mingyu’s kind of right.

Wonwoo has never once shown interest in dating. Even during med school, when everyone else was either in relationships or at least going on dates, he never did. He was always around, always steady, always—

You shake your head. No. No way.

Mingyu watches you, eyes glinting. “Oh my god, you’re actually thinking about it.”

You shove him. “Shut up.”

He cackles. “I love being right.”

You groan, turning to the window to ignore him. But your heart is beating just a little too fast, and your mind keeps replaying Mingyu’s words.

Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone?

And more importantly, why does the answer make your chest feel tight?

Once you’re done with the medical mission, you go back to the hospital. You push open the door to the on-call room, utterly drained from the long day. Mingyu had peeled off somewhere to check on the ER, but you went straight here, hoping to collapse onto the couch for at least a few minutes.

The room is dimly lit, quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. At first, you think it's empty—until your eyes land on Wonwoo. He’s at his desk, head slightly tilted down, eyes closed.

You pause, debating whether you should leave him be. But before you can take a step back, his voice—low and a little rough from exhaustion—breaks the silence.

"You're back."

You blink. "I thought you were asleep."

He opens his eyes, looking at you with that unreadable expression of his. "Just resting my eyes."

You scoff lightly, stepping further inside. "You say that like it’s any better."

Wonwoo watches you as you drop your bag onto the desk, stretching your arms over your head with a tired groan. You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers, just for a second, before he leans back in his chair.

"Long day?" he asks.

You sigh, rolling out your shoulders. "Very. Mingyu was extra annoying, as usual."

Wonwoo hums, amused. "What did he do now?"

You hesitate, suddenly remembering the entire conversation about him. About how Mingyu basically implied that Wonwoo hasn’t dated anyone because of you.

You glance at Wonwoo, who’s waiting for your answer with a neutral expression. And for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to bring it up.

“Just the usual nonsense,” you say instead.

Wonwoo doesn’t press, just nods before looking back at his desk. There’s a brief silence—comfortable, familiar. The kind you only get with someone you’ve known for years.

Then, softly, he says, “You should eat before you sleep.”

You glance at him, arching a brow. "Did you just give me my own advice?"

A small smirk tugs at his lips. "You never follow it yourself."

You shake your head, but there’s something warm in your chest that wasn’t there before.

Damn Mingyu. Now you can’t stop noticing things.

You drop onto the couch, exhausted but still watching Wonwoo out of the corner of your eye. He hasn't moved from his desk, but now you notice the way he's rubbing his temples, his brows slightly furrowed.

His glasses aren’t on, which is rare. Wonwoo without glasses usually means one of two things—either he’s about to sleep, or he has a headache.

Judging by the way he keeps pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s definitely the latter.

"You okay?" you ask.

"Mhm." He doesn’t look up, still rubbing slow circles into his temples.

You frown. "Did you even rest today?"

"I did," he says, but you don’t believe him for a second.

With a sigh, you push yourself up and walk over to him. He barely reacts when you place a hand on his shoulder, but he finally opens his eyes when you gently pull his hand away from his forehead.

"You have a migraine, don’t you?" you ask, squinting at him.

Wonwoo blinks at you, then exhales through his nose—something between amusement and surrender. "Just a small one."

You roll your eyes. "Right. Small enough that you’re sitting here rubbing your head like an old man."

He gives you a flat look. "Thanks."

Ignoring his sarcasm, you reach for his desk, rummaging through one of the drawers. You know he keeps medicine in here somewhere—he’s always prepared for everyone else’s headaches, just never his own.

After a few seconds, you find what you’re looking for and shake two pills into your palm before grabbing his forgotten water bottle. You hold both out to him expectantly.

"Take these."

He doesn’t move at first, just stares at you with that unreadable look again.

"Wonwoo," you say, more firmly. Finally, he sighs and takes the pills from your hand, swallowing them with a sip of water.

You nod, satisfied. "Good. Now go lie down before you pass out at your desk."

He exhales slowly, then mutters, "You’re bossy."

You smirk. "And yet you listen to me."

He doesn’t argue. Just shakes his head with the smallest hint of a smile before standing up. And for some reason, as he moves toward the bunk beds, you feel that warmth in your chest again.

You leave the room after turning the lights off to let him rest. You find Mingyu, maybe grab some late night snacks. As you and Mingyu walk through the hospital corridors, making casual conversation, a familiar figure approaches.

It’s him—Doctor Lee, the one who had flirted with you before.

Mingyu notices the way your shoulders tense and immediately perks up, eyes darting between you and Doctor Lee with barely concealed interest. "Oh, this should be fun," he mutters under his breath.

You shoot him a look. "Shut up."

Before Mingyu can tease you further, Doctor Lee reaches you, flashing that same confident smile.

"Hey, fancy seeing you again." His tone is smooth, casual, but there’s something pointed in the way he looks at you.

"It’s a hospital," you reply dryly. "You’ll probably see me a lot."

Mingyu barely hides his laugh behind a cough.

Doctor Lee, unfazed, chuckles. "Right. Still, I was hoping I’d run into you. Thought maybe this time I could convince you to grab a coffee with me?"

Mingyu freezes beside you, his head snapping toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. He is way too interested in this.

You open your mouth to respond—politely decline, of course—but before you can, a voice cuts in.

"She already has a coffee supplier."

You turn your head just in time to see Wonwoo standing a few steps away, arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed. His tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something just sharp enough that it makes both you and Doctor Lee pause.

Mingyu, of course, is thriving.

"Oh, do you now?" Doctor Lee glances between you and Wonwoo, one eyebrow raised.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Wonwoo, don’t—"

"She never has to ask. Her coffee order just appears," Wonwoo continues smoothly, ignoring you. "Sometimes with snacks too."

Mingyu wheezes.

Doctor Lee blinks, clearly trying to figure out if there’s something more to Wonwoo’s words. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what he’s doing, but before the other man can press further, you exhale and take a step back.

"Anyway, I have rounds to finish," you say quickly. "See you around."

Before Doctor Lee can respond, you grab Mingyu’s sleeve and yank him along with you, leaving the poor guy standing there confused.

Mingyu is absolutely dying.

"Wonwoo totally just alpha-blocked that guy," he laughs, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. "Like, not even subtle. That was lowkey territorial."

You groan. "Don’t start."

"Oh, I’ve already started." Mingyu grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "So… your coffee supplier, huh?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you walk even faster, pretending you don’t hear Mingyu’s continued teasing all the way down the hall.

As you speed-walk down the hall, Mingyu still snickering beside you, you hear the sound of familiar footsteps following behind. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

You sigh dramatically, slowing your steps just enough to glance over your shoulder. "Weren't you suffering from a migraine?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, walking at a completely casual pace as if he didn’t just interrupt an entire conversation to assert his place in your life, simply shrugs. "It went away."

Mingyu claps a hand over his mouth, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. He fails.

"Ohhh, interesting," Mingyu chokes out between laughs. "So you had a migraine, but the moment Doctor Lee showed up, you were suddenly fine? Wow. Almost like it wasn’t that serious to begin with."

Wonwoo shoots him a blank look. "Or maybe I just recovered."

"Right, right," Mingyu nods, "or maybe you just didn’t like what you were seeing."

You groan, rubbing your forehead. "Mingyu, please—"

"No, because listen," Mingyu continues, fully ignoring you now, "if I had a migraine, I would not be up and walking this fast just to make sure my ‘friend’—" he even throws up air quotes, "—wasn’t having coffee with someone else."

"I wasn’t walking fast," Wonwoo deadpans.

"Okay, but you were there," Mingyu counters. "Like, right there. That’s suspicious, man."

You throw up your hands. "Oh my God, both of you, stop."

Wonwoo just blinks, completely unbothered. "Do you still want coffee?" he asks, as if the last five minutes of chaos didn’t just happen. Mingyu wheezes again.

You groan even louder. "You are so annoying."

Later Wonwo drove you and Mingyu home. The car ride is quiet after Mingyu gets dropped off, leaving just you and Wonwoo. The city lights blur past the window, and you drum your fingers lightly on your thigh before finally speaking

"Hey."

"Hm?" Wonwoo doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but you know he’s listening.

"That thing Mingyu said … about you not dating anyone since med school—"

Wonwoo glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. "What about it?"

"Is it true?" you ask, shifting slightly to face him. "You really haven’t dated anyone all these years?"

He doesn’t answer right away, but you notice the way his fingers tighten slightly around the wheel. "I was busy," he finally says, voice even.

"We were all busy," you counter. "Mingyu dated. Seokmin dated."

Wonwoo exhales softly through his nose. "And you?"

You blink, caught off guard. "What about me?"

"Did you date?" He doesn’t look at you, but there’s something in his voice, something careful, deliberate.

You hesitate, then shrug. "Not really."

That makes Wonwoo glance at you, just for a second. "Why?"

You huff a quiet laugh. "Why are you answering my question with another question?"

"Because you’re deflecting," he replies easily.

You frown, arms crossing. "Maybe I just didn’t feel like it."

Wonwoo hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "Then I guess we’re the same."

That makes you pause. He’s right, in a way. You never thought much about dating, always too caught up in the chaos of work, of life. But hearing that he was the same—that he never even tried—makes something uneasy stir in your chest.

"So…" you start carefully, "was there really no one? Not even someone you liked?"

The streetlights cast long shadows over his face, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then, softly—so softly you almost don’t hear it—he says,

"I wouldn’t say that."

Your breath catches, but before you can press further, the car slows. You realize, belatedly, that you’ve already arrived at your place.

Wonwoo shifts into park and finally, finally looks at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, something deep and quiet and there.

You swallow. "Wonwoo—"

"Go inside," he says gently, cutting you off.

You hesitate. The air feels heavy, thick with something unspoken.

But in the end, you don’t push.

"Okay," you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Drive safe."

He nods, watching as you step out and close the door behind you.

As you walk up to your building, you don’t turn back snd inside his car, Wonwoo stays parked for a long time, staring at where you were.

You’re never like this.

You’ve known Wonwoo for years, been friends with him for so long that his presence has always felt natural, something you never had to think about. But now? Now, after what Mingyu said, after what Wonwoo didn’t say, you’re noticing everything.

The way he automatically sets a coffee cup in front of you in the morning, the way he subtly reaches out like he’s ready to catch you when you take a sharp turn in the hallway, the way his eyes linger when you’re talking—like he’s listening to every word, even the useless ones.

It’s worse in the on-call room.

Wonwoo’s at his desk, writing notes, glasses perched on his nose. It’s a normal sight, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. But for some reason, today, you can’t stop looking. The way his brows furrow slightly in focus. The way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the desk. The way he reaches up to push his hair back, exposing his forehead just a little more.

Seokmin, lying on the bottom bunk, suddenly snickers. "You good over there?"

You snap your head toward him. "What?"

He grins, flipping through his phone lazily. "You’re staring."

"No, I’m not."

"Uh-huh."

Wonwoo, completely unaware, flips to the next page in his notes. You glare at Seokmin before quickly grabbing your own chart, pretending to focus. But even then, you’re way too aware of the fact that Wonwoo is right there.

And maybe you have been staring.

The moment you walk out, Seokmin doesn’t even wait.

He turns to Wonwoo with a slow grin, tossing his phone onto his chest. "So…"

Wonwoo doesn’t look up. "So?"

"She was staring at you."

That gets Wonwoo’s attention. He finally lifts his eyes from his notes, blinking at Seokmin. "What?"

"She. Was. Staring." Seokmin emphasizes each word like Wonwoo is dense. Which, honestly, he kind of is. "Like, full-on eyes stuck on you. If I wasn’t here, she probably would've burned a hole through your head."

Wonwoo frowns, shifting slightly in his seat. "You’re exaggerating."

"Am I?" Seokmin smirks. "I don’t think I am."

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything to that. He just exhales through his nose and turns back to his notes. But Seokmin knows him too well—sees the way his ears go just the slightest bit red.

Seokmin grins. "Dude, I’m telling you, she’s noticing things. That’s a good sign."

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, flipping a page in his notes. "Go to sleep, Seokmin."

"Oh, I will. But just so you know…" Seokmin stifles a laugh. "I think you’re in trouble, man."

The rest of the day is… annoying. Not because of any difficult surgeries or unbearable patients, but because you are now painfully hyper-aware of Wonwoo. It’s stupid.  Like when he rolls up his sleeves before scrubbing in for surgery, and you catch yourself staring at his forearms for half a second too long.

Or the absolute worst—when you’re eating lunch with the others, and Wonwoo absentmindedly pushes the side dishes you like closer to you. It’s such a small, automatic thing, and normally you wouldn’t even blink at it. 

But today? Today, you almost drop your chopsticks.

"You good?" Seokmin asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Fine!" you say way too quickly, shoving food in your mouth to avoid talking.

Mingyu, the menace that he is, narrows his eyes at you. "Are you sure? You’ve been kinda weird today—"

"She’s fine," Wonwoo interjects smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee.

And just like that, you’re spiraling again. Because now you’re overthinking that. He just said you were fine. That’s normal, right? That’s just Wonwoo being Wonwoo. But now it sounds like he knows something, like he can see how much you’re overthinking him—

You hate this.

By the time your shift ends, you’re exhausted—not just physically, but mentally from all the overthinking. So when Wonwoo casually says, "Let’s go," and gestures toward the exit, you don’t even question it.

It’s routine, anyway. You don’t drive, and if Mingyu isn’t around to make you suffer through his questionable playlist, it’s usually Wonwoo who gives you a ride home.

The car ride is quiet at first, just the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing some late-night ballad. You try to focus on anything else, but of course, you’re hyper-aware of every small thing he does. 

"You were weird today," he says suddenly.

You stiffen. "No, I wasn’t."

He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe you. "If you say so."

You scowl, slumping in your seat. "You’re annoying."

"And you’re terrible at hiding things."

You whip your head toward him. "Excuse me?"

Wonwoo glances at you with the tiniest smirk before turning his attention back to the road. "You keep staring at me."

You nearly choke. "I— that’s not—you—"* You shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself even more.

"Don’t overthink it," he says, like he can hear your brain short-circuiting.

You glare at him, crossing your arms. "I’m not."

"Sure."

He pulls up to your place, and before you can even reach for the door handle, he beats you to it, leaning over to unlock it from the inside. You freeze for half a second because he’s too close, and you swear he hesitates too before leaning back.

"Get some rest," he says simply.

You step out, and just as you close the door, he rolls down the window. "And stop staring so much. It’s obvious."

"I WAS NOT—!"

But he’s already driving away, leaving you standing there, burning with embarrassment.

Wonwoo didn’t mean to say it.

But the way you froze, the way your eyes widened in sheer panic before you tried to deny it—yeah, that reaction was worth it.

He’s not stupid. He noticed the shift in you over the past few days. The way you’ve been watching him more, like you suddenly started paying attention. Like you were seeing things for the first time that have always been there. It would’ve been amusing if it wasn’t also kind of frustrating.

Because he’s been looking at you like that for years.

He doesn’t usually let things slip. He’s careful, measured. But with you? It’s always been a little different.

As he drives away, he catches a glimpse of you in the rearview mirror—still standing there, fuming, probably cursing him under your breath. He exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a chuckle he allows himself.

"Took you long enough."

He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches his own reflection in the mirror. And he definitely doesn’t realize that his fingers tap against the steering wheel the entire way home, like he’s buzzing with something he refuses to name.

After that you try to avoid him. Not in an obvious way, just enough to make sure you don’t end up alone with him again. It’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Unfortunately, Mingyu and Seokmin have noticed.

“You’re acting weird,” Mingyu says while stuffing his face with food.

Seokmin leans in. “Super weird. Suspiciously weird.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not acting weird.”

“You literally just turned around when you saw Wonwoo walking this way,” Seokmin points out.

Mingyu snickers. “Yeah, and you ran in the opposite direction.”

“Okay, first of all, I had places to be.”

“You went to a supply closet.”

“…Shut up.”

Mingyu and Seokmin exchange a look before turning back to you, both wearing the same smug expression.

“You’re doomed,” Mingyu says with a grin. Seokmin agrees.

Before you can threaten them, someone clears their throat behind you. You turn around—and there’s Wonwoo.

His eyes flick between the three of you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out, grabbing your tray and bolting.

From behind you, you hear Mingyu snicker, “Yup. Doomed.”

Later after another very long shift, you all but crawl out. There you see him. Wonwoo is standing outside the hospital entrance, hands in his coat pockets, glasses perched on his nose, looking completely unbothered by the cold night air. His eyes flick up the moment you step outside, and your heart does a stupid little flip.

“I thought you went home,” you say, stopping in front of him.

He raises a brow. “You were gonna chase the bus, weren’t you?”

You cross your arms. “Maybe.”

He huffs out a small laugh, then tilts his head toward his car. “Let’s go.”

You hesitate for half a second before following him. Because, well—this is Wonwoo. And he’s always been there, hasn’t he? Even when you didn’t notice.

You freeze halfway to the car. Wonwoo stops too, turning to face you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight furrow in his brows, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets.

"Why are you avoiding me?" His voice is steady, calm—but you know him well enough to hear the shift in his tone.

"I’m not," you lie, immediately looking away.

"You are," he counters easily. "You barely look at me during rounds, you leave the on-call room the second I walk in, and you suddenly act like you're allergic to coffee when I offer."

Okay, maybe you were being a little obvious. You shuffle your feet, gripping the strap of your bag. "I—it's nothing."

Wonwoo doesn’t budge. He just stares, waiting, and you swear the silence between you feels louder than anything right now.

Then, quieter, he says, "Did I do something?"

That makes you look at him. His expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something in his eyes—something careful, hesitant. You shake your head quickly. "No! You didn’t—You never—" You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. "It’s just… I don’t know."

That’s a lie. You do know. It’s because of everything—Mingyu’s words, Seokmin’s teasing, the way you suddenly can’t stop noticing every little thing Wonwoo does. And the way it’s making your heart act in ways it shouldn’t.

But how the hell are you supposed to say that?

Wonwoo studies you for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head. "Get in the car," he says, walking ahead. "We’re not doing this while you're sleep-deprived."

You stare after him, a little dumbfounded, before scrambling to follow. Because, well. This is Wonwoo. And he's always been there, hasn’t he?

The car ride is quiet. Not the usual comfortable silence, but something heavier. You glance at Wonwoo from the passenger seat—his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead, his expression unreadable. He looks deep in thought.

And so are you.

Something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, hazy but persistent.

It was years ago, after a long semester. You remember celebrating—too many drinks, too many laughs. And then… nothing. Just the aftermath. A raging headache, and the strange shift in Wonwoo’s behavior.

The day after that night, he started avoiding you. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but it became obvious—he wouldn’t meet your eyes, he stopped sitting next to you in class, and any conversation felt painfully awkward.

It lasted for weeks.

You never knew why.

Now, sitting next to him again, the memory presses into your chest. You glance at him once more, debating whether to ask.

But before you can, the car slows to a stop in front of your place.

"We’re here," Wonwoo says, voice even. He finally looks at you, and for a split second, there’s something in his gaze—something almost hesitant.

You swallow the words sitting on your tongue.

"Thanks for the ride," you mumble instead, pushing the door open.

But even as you step out, the question lingers.

It’s been bugging you for days. You try to brush it off, but the memory keeps surfacing at the most random moments—during surgeries, in the on-call room, even when you’re just grabbing coffee.

So, on a completely random day, when it’s just you and Wonwoo in the break room, you finally blurt it out.

"Why did you avoid me back in med school?"

Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, freezes for a second. He lowers his cup slowly, eyes flickering to yours. "What?"

"You know," you insist, leaning against the counter. "After that one night out. The next day, you just—" You wave a hand, frustrated at how much this has been bothering you. "You barely talked to me for weeks. I thought I did something wrong, but I never knew what."

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off or change the subject. But instead, he exhales and places his cup down.

"You don’t remember anything from that night?" he asks carefully.

Your brows furrow. "Not really. Just that I drank too much, and I felt like death the next morning."

Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. Now you’re nervous.

"What did I do?" you ask cautiously.

He hesitates, then sighs. "You… said something."

Your stomach drops. "What did I say?"

"You were drunk. I didn’t think you meant it, but—" He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "You told me you liked me."

Your brain short-circuits You what?

Wonwoo keeps going, voice softer now. "I didn’t know how to react. I thought maybe you’d forget, or that you didn’t mean it. So I just… avoided you." He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It was stupid. I know that now."

You stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You think your brain might actually shut down.

Wonwoo looks down at his coffee cup, almost like he's debating whether to continue. Then, with a small sigh, he says it—

"And you kissed me."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You blink at him, trying to process what he just said. You kissed him?

Wonwoo glances up at you, his expression unreadable, but you can tell he’s waiting for your reaction.

"I—" You swallow, scrambling for any memory of that night. But all you can remember is drinking too much, maybe laughing too loud, and then waking up with the worst hangover of your life. "I what?"

"You kissed me," he repeats, slower this time. "Just once. It wasn’t… it wasn’t a big thing. But you looked at me like—" He stops himself, shakes his head. "I don’t know. I didn’t think you meant it, so I thought it was better if I just avoided you until things went back to normal."

Your heart is hammering now. You kissed him. You kissed Wonwoo. And he never said a word about it.

"Why didn’t you ever bring it up?" you ask, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo lets out a short, humorless laugh. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, do you remember kissing me that night?' You never brought it up either."

You stare at him, still trying to wrap your head around this. It’s not just the fact that you kissed him—it’s the fact that he’s looking at you now like this matters. Like maybe it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to him.

And the worst part? You’re starting to think that it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to you either. You hesitate for a moment before asking, "Is that why you weren’t dating?"

Wonwoo blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. His fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup before he exhales and leans back against the chair.

"I don’t know," he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. "Maybe. Part of it, yeah."

You feel something twist in your chest.

"What does that mean?" you press, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo looks at you then, really looks at you. Like he’s debating whether or not to say what he actually wants to say.

"It means," he finally murmurs, "that maybe I was waiting."

Your breath catches. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to. You can read between the lines. And suddenly, everything—the way he always looked out for you, the way he always made sure you ate, how he was always there—feels different. Feels heavier.

Like maybe you were supposed to notice a long time ago.

"I told you I liked you," you say, your voice sharper than you expected. "And you never told me."

Wonwoo doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you, unreadable, his grip tightening around his coffee cup.

"You were drunk," he finally says.

You let out a frustrated scoff. "And? That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true."

He exhales slowly, looking away. "I thought you wouldn’t remember. Or that maybe you’d regret it."

Your jaw clenches. "So you just decided that for me?"

Wonwoo rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn’t want to risk losing you."

You let out a breath, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. You’re mad—at him, at yourself, at the way this conversation is only happening now.

"That’s so stupid," you say, shaking your head. "That’s so—you’re so—"

You stop, because you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You just know it makes you angry.

Wonwoo gives you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Maybe."

You push past Wonwoo, your head spinning with frustration, and storm out of the room. You make your way to the surgery ward, still replaying the conversation in your head. Your steps are heavy, your thoughts even heavier.

Seokmin is at the nurses’ station, casually flipping through a patient chart when he sees you approaching. He immediately notices your expression and sighs. “Alright, what did Mingyu do this time?”

You shake your head, dragging a chair and plopping down beside him. “Not Mingyu.”

Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you look like you just found out your whole life was a lie?”

You groan, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the desk. “I did find out something. From med school.”

Seokmin hums in interest. “Go on.”

You lift your head slightly, hesitating before mumbling, “Apparently, I told Wonwoo I liked him back then.”

Seokmin freezes. Blinks. Then leans forward dramatically. “You did what?”

“I don’t remember, okay?” you hiss, slapping his arm. “I was drunk. But he remembered. And guess what? He never said anything.”

Seokmin lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s tough.”

You slump back in your chair. “I don’t even know why I’m mad. Am I mad at him? At myself? At the universe?”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. “I’d say all of the above.”

You glare at him.

He chuckles before getting serious. “Look, you’re mad because it meant something. Even if you don’t remember confessing, the fact that he never responded—never even acknowledged it—hurts.”

You bite your lip, looking away. “Yeah.”

Seokmin nudges you. “So, what are you gonna do?”

You exhale sharply. “I have no idea.”

Seokmin grins. “Well, this is gonna be fun to watch.”

And so, you do what any reasonable person would do. You avoid Wonwoo.

You’re not dramatic about it—at least, you tell yourself that. You’re just busy. Too busy to sit in the on-call room when he’s there. Too busy to grab coffee at the same time. Too busy to share a ride home.

Mingyu and Seokmin notice immediately.

Seokmin corners you first, casually blocking your way to the scrub room with a patient chart. “So, avoiding your not-boyfriend now?”

You groan. “I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head. “Then why did you suddenly start doing your post-op notes in this hallway instead of the lounge?”

You cross your arms. “I like the lighting here.”

Seokmin snorts. “Right. Because overhead fluorescent lights are so flattering.”

Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother being subtle. He slaps a tray of food down at your table during a late dinner break. “So, what’s the plan?”

You blink at him. “For what?”

“For whatever mess you and Wonwoo have gotten yourselves into.” He waves his chopsticks. “It’s been days. Wonwoo looks like he’s about to lose his mind, and you look like you’re trying to ascend into another plane of existence just to avoid eye contact.”

You scowl. “I just need time to think.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Everything? The fact that I apparently confessed years ago and he never told me? The fact that he’s acting like it doesn’t matter? The fact that maybe it does matter, but I don’t know what to do with that?”

Mingyu chews thoughtfully, then points his chopsticks at you. “Sounds like you’re not over him.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table.

He pats your shoulder. “Just talk to him. Before one of you explodes.”

The moment the hospital alert blared through the speakers, it’s like everything was put on hold. A mass casualty incident. Multiple vehicles. A bus, a few cars.

The ER instantly became chaos—stretchers being wheeled in, nurses and doctors shouting orders, the smell of antiseptic and blood thick in the air. Wonwoo moved on instinct, running toward the commotion just as Mingyu turned to him, face pale.

“She took the bus today,” Mingyu said.

Wonwoo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even need to ask who she was. His feet were moving before his brain caught up. He barely heard Mingyu yelling for him as he shoved past people, making his way to the hospital entrance. Paramedics were still unloading patients. Some were conscious. Some weren’t moving at all.

He turned, gripping the arm of a paramedic. “The bus—where is it? Was everyone taken out?”

“There are still people at the site,” the paramedic said. “Some are trapped. First responders are working on it.”

Wonwoo didn’t wait to hear the rest. He ran.

The crash site was a scene of wreckage—twisted metal, shattered glass, the air heavy with smoke and the sharp scent of gasoline. Emergency lights flashed red and blue against the darkening sky, casting eerie shadows over the scene.

Wonwoo barely registered the shouts of firefighters and paramedics as they worked to extract victims from the wreckage. His mind had narrowed to one thing—you.

He scanned the scene frantically, his pulse hammering in his ears. People were being pulled from the bus, some dazed, some unconscious. His breath hitched when he saw a familiar figure slumped against the pavement, a paramedic crouched beside you.

"Y/N!"

His voice was hoarse, nearly breaking as he sprinted toward you. Your head turned sluggishly at the sound of his voice. Blood streaked down your forehead, a cut splitting just above your eyebrow. Your white coat was smudged with dirt, torn at the sleeve, and you had one hand pressed to your side, wincing.

“Wonwoo?” you murmured, blinking up at him, disoriented.

He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering over your face, your arms, as if afraid you’d shatter at his touch. “What the hell—why—why are you still here? You should’ve been in the hospital already—”

“Dr. Jeon?” The paramedic beside you spoke up, recognizing him. “She’s stable for now, but we need to move her. There might be internal injuries.”

Wonwoo clenched his jaw. He knew that but it was different when it was you, when he was staring at your bloodied form and realizing how close he’d come to—

No. He refused to think about it.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice tight, as he helped lift you onto the stretcher.

Your fingers curled around his wrist, gripping weakly. “Wonwoo,” you murmured.

His heart stuttered. “What?”

“Don’t look so sad.” Your smile was faint, barely there. “I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply, gripping your hand. “You better be.”

Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, the pain dulling into exhaustion. The sounds around you—sirens, shouts, the rustle of movement—were starting to blur together.

“Hey, hey—no.” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic. His grip on your hand tightened. “Stay with me.”

You hummed, barely nodding. “Just… tired.”

“I don’t care. You’re not sleeping right now.” His other hand cupped your cheek, the warmth grounding you. “Look at me.” You tried. Really, you did. But the weight behind your eyes was unbearable. Your head lolled slightly, and that’s when his voice broke—

“Y/N, please.”

Something in his tone made you fight harder to stay conscious. Your blurry vision focused just enough to see his face—his usual calm was gone, replaced with pure, raw worry.

“You’re always… so bossy,” you mumbled, forcing a weak smirk.

“And you never listen,” he shot back, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “So listen now—stay awake.”

The paramedics lifted your stretcher, and Wonwoo moved with them, never letting go of your hand. “We’re almost at the hospital,” he told you, voice softer now. “You’ll be fine.”

You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the pain, or the way he was looking at you, but for a moment, you believed him. Wonwoo’s heart nearly stopped when your body went limp. He swallowed hard, his mind racing even as his training kicked in. You’d lost blood. Too much. Your skin was too pale, your breathing too shallow.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

As soon as they reached the ambulance, he climbed in with you, pressing two fingers to your wrist again just to reassure himself that your pulse was still there.

"Stay with me," he murmured, more to himself than to you snd when the ambulance doors shut, sirens wailing as they sped toward the hospital, he didn’t take his eyes off you for even a second.

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and the doors flew open. Wonwoo barely waited for the paramedics before he moved, helping guide the stretcher out.

“Female, late twenties, sustained injuries from the crash site,” one of the paramedics called out. “Multiple lacerations, possible concussion, and significant blood loss—she lost consciousness on the way.” Mingyu was already there, his eyes widening the moment he saw you. 

“Shit—Get her inside. Now! Bay 7!”

Mingyu paled but immediately snapped into action, helping the nurses prep you for assessment. Seokmin rushed in a second later, his expression shifting from relief to worry in an instant.

“Her BP’s low,” a nurse reported. “We need fluids started now.”

Wonwoo knew he should step back, let the trauma team handle it. But his feet refused to move. His pulse was racing, hands clenched at his sides.

“You need to get checked, too,” Mingyu said, glancing at the blood on Wonwoo’s scrubs—not his own, but yours.

“I’m fine.” Wonwoo’s voice was tight. “She—” His words caught in his throat. “Just take care of her.”

Mingyu exchanged a glance with Seokmin, who rushed down the ER the moment he heard about the accident, before nodding.

“Wonwoo,” Seokmin said carefully, “let them work. She’s in good hands.” he pulls Wonwoo out the hallway to let Mingyu and his team do their work.

Wonwoo’s jaw locked. He knew that. He did. But watching you, lying there so still, covered in bruises and blood—he’d never felt this helpless before. His mind was a mess. He should have driven you home. He should have made sure you weren’t avoiding him. He should have—

The doors burst open. A nurse rushed past him. Then, through the small window of the ER, he saw Mingyu and the rest of the team working frantically around you. Something was wrong.

He stepped forward, but Seokmin was suddenly there, blocking his way. “They’re doing everything they can,” Seokmin said, his voice firm but laced with worry. Wonwoo barely heard him. His eyes were locked on the room, on Mingyu pressing down on your chest.

You had coded.

A sharp breath left him as he staggered back, hitting the wall. Seokmin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. Wonwoo’s hands were shaking. He curled them into fists. He’d never been this scared before. Not once in his life.

Wonwoo tried to push past Seokmin, but Seokmin held him back, gripping his arm tightly.

"Wonwoo, stop," Seokmin said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in his face.

"I need to be in there," Wonwoo snapped, his breathing uneven. "I need to—"

Seokmin shook his head. "Mingyu’s got this. Do you think he’d let anything happen to her?"

Wonwoo clenched his jaw, his entire body tense, but he didn’t push forward again. He knew Seokmin was right but knowing didn’t make it easier. All he could do was stand there, watching through the window as Mingyu fought to bring you back.

Mingyu gritted his teeth, his hands steady even as the tension in the room thickened. The sound of the flatline rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.

"Charge to 200," he ordered, his voice sharp and controlled.

The nurse complied, handing him the paddles. Mingyu placed them on your chest, his heart hammering. "Clear!"

Your body jerked slightly as the shock coursed through you.

He checked the monitor. Still flat.

"Again! 300!"

Another shock.

Nothing.

Mingyu refused to let panic settle in. His friend was on this table. No, not just a friend. You were family.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, sweat forming at his brow. "You're not done yet."

He pressed his hands to your chest, beginning compressions. "Give me one milligram of epi!"

Time blurred. His arms burned from the force of CPR, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t.

Then A blip. Another. A weak, slow rhythm appeared on the monitor.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "We've got a pulse," he announced, his voice hoarse but firm. The tension in the room eased slightly, but Mingyu knew it wasn’t over yet. He looked at you, unconscious but breathing, and exhaled sharply.

"You scared the hell out of us," he muttered under his breath. Then, he turned to the nurse. "Get her to the ICU. I'll update the others."

As the team moved into action, Mingyu pulled off his gloves, exhausted but relieved. Now, he just had to face Wonwoo.

Mingyu stepped out of the ER, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. The hallway felt suffocating with tension, and the moment he looked up, his gaze met Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo was still pacing, his fists clenched at his sides, eyes dark with worry. Seokmin stood nearby, watching carefully in case he had to physically restrain him again.

The second Wonwoo saw Mingyu, he froze. "How is she?"

Mingyu sighed, pulling off his surgical cap. "She coded."

Wonwoo’s face drained of color.

"But we got her back."

The relief was visible—Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped for just a second before he straightened, jaw tight. "Where is she now?"

"ICU. We stabilized her, but she’s not awake yet."

Wonwoo didn’t wait for another word. He turned on his heel, heading straight for the ICU.

Seokmin let out a breath. "I’m going after him before he scares the nurses."

Mingyu didn’t stop him. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, exhaustion hitting him full force.

"You better wake up soon," he mumbled to himself. "Or he’s gonna lose it."

Wonwoo barely made it past the ICU doors before the nurses blocked his way.

"You can’t see her yet, Dr. Jeon," one of them said firmly. "She’s still unconscious, and we need to monitor her closely."

His jaw tightened. "I just need to see her—"

"Wonwoo."

Seokmin grabbed his arm before he could push past them. "Stop."

Wonwoo turned sharply, eyes flashing. "She almost died, Seokmin. I—" He clenched his fists, unable to finish.

Seokmin’s grip didn’t loosen. "I know. But you barging in there isn’t going to change anything. Let them do their job."

Wonwoo’s breathing was heavy, his body tense as if he was holding himself together by a thread. His gaze flickered toward the door, frustration clear on his face.

Seokmin sighed. "Come on, man. Let’s sit for a second. You’re no good to her if you pass out from exhaustion."

Wonwoo didn’t move for a long moment, but finally, he exhaled sharply and let Seokmin pull him back toward the waiting area.

Still, he kept his eyes locked on the door, like sheer willpower alone could wake you up.

Hours passed, dragging on painfully. Wonwoo sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together so tightly they were turning white. Mingyu and Seokmin were on either side of him, equally exhausted but keeping watch.

No one spoke much. The weight of everything that had happened hung heavily in the air.

Then, finally, a nurse stepped out of the ICU.

"You can see her now."

Wonwoo was on his feet instantly, not even waiting for the others as he rushed through the doors. His heart pounded as he stepped into your room, his breath catching at the sight of you.

You were stil unconcious, but you were breathing. There were bandages wrapped around your head and arms, an IV hooked up beside you. But your chest rose and fell steadily. 

"You’re an idiot," he muttered, voice hoarse. But even as he said it, his hand hovered over yours, hesitant, before finally resting gently over your fingers.

Hours passed before you finally regained consciousness. The first thing you notice is the hand holding yours. The weight of everything sinking in. 

You gently squeeze his hand making Wonwoo sit up and look at you, “Hey you” you mumble at him. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking at you. Making sure he isn’t dreaming, he takes your warm hand pressing it against his cheek

“You scared me” he whispered

“Sorry”

He shakes his head. He stands up, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. His lips lingering there for a while like he’s savoring every second. When he pulled back, his gaze met yours, filled with something unspoken.

“You should rest,” he murmured, voice still rough with emotion.

You gave him a small, tired smile. “Only if you do too.”

“I’m not leaving.” You already knew that. Even if he didn’t say it, you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t going anywhere.

The door swung open, and Seokmin practically burst in, arms spread wide. “She LIVES!” he announced dramatically, as if you had risen from the dead.

You gave him a tired glare. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, plopping down in the chair beside you. “Do you know how much stress you caused us?”

Mingyu walked in behind him, arms crossed. “You had me working overtime,” he said, half-joking, half-serious. “And I don’t even get paid extra for that.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth in your smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll schedule my near-death experience at a more convenient time.”

Mingyu clicked his tongue. “That’s all I ask.”

Seokmin gasped. “Excuse me? That is not all we ask! How about you don’t get into life-threatening accidents at all?”

You sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Noted.”

Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, just exhaled, shaking his head. “They’re never gonna let this go, you know.”

“Obviously,” you muttered, but your chest felt lighter. Because as much as they nagged, you knew it just meant they cared.

Your recovery days were… frustrating, to say the least. As a surgeon, you were used to being the one treating patients, not being the patient. And the worst part? Your own friends were your caretakers, which meant zero chances of slipping out of bed unnoticed.

Seokmin was the worst about it. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked one afternoon when you tried to stand up.

“For a walk,” you said.

He pushed you back down with one finger to your forehead. “You’re on bed rest, doctor.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “You coded! You died for a minute, and now you want to go for a walk?”

Mingyu walked in just in time to hear that. “Wait, she tried to get up? I knew we should’ve strapped her down.”

You scowled at both of them. “I’m not a psych patient—”

“Then stop acting like one,” Mingyu shot back.

But it wasn’t just them. The nurses were in on it, too. They absolutely loved watching the usually stubborn and independent surgeon get bossed around. Every time Wonwoo came to check on you, you swore you saw them watching from the nurses’ station, whispering to each other.

And speaking of Wonwoo…

He was quiet but relentless. While the others nagged, he just watched you, making sure you ate, making sure you took your meds, making sure you rested. He didn’t have to say anything—his mere presence was enough to keep you in place.

But one evening, when the others had left, you finally had enough. “Wonwoo, I swear if you tell me to ‘take it easy’ one more time—”

“I won’t,” he said simply, sitting beside your bed.

You blinked. “Oh.”

He looked at you for a moment, then exhaled. “I just… I was really scared.”

Your throat tightened. “Wonwoo—”

“I almost lost you,” he murmured.

You stared at him, heart pounding. “…Okay.”

He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Good.”

“But that’s unfair, you can’t use that on me everytime”

Wonwoo’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smirk. “Use what?”

“You being all—” you waved your free hand vaguely, “—soft and serious. Making me feel bad for worrying you. That’s not fair.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “It’s not fair that you keep scaring me either.”

You groaned, sinking further into your pillows. “Fine. Truce?”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider it. “…Only if you promise to stop being reckless.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Define reckless.”

He sighed. “I hate you.”

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t,” he admitted, his voice softer this time.

You stretched your arms as you walked into the hospital, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief. Being back at work after weeks of recovery felt oddly normal, except for the way your friends hovered around you like you were made of glass.

You sat across from Wonwoo at a quiet restaurant near the hospital, picking at your food while he watched you like a hawk. He had already subtly pushed a side dish closer to you twice, and when you slowed down again, he raised an eyebrow.

"Eat," he said simply, taking a bite of his own food.

You sighed, shoving a spoonful into your mouth to appease him. “Happy?”

He hummed in approval before sipping his drink. The meal went on in comfortable silence, but your mind kept drifting back to the last real conversation you had before the accident. 

“Wonwoo.”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated for a second, then pushed forward. “Before the accident, when we were talking… You said I kissed you.”

His grip on his drink tightened slightly. “Yeah.”

“And you never told me,” you continued, voice steady but firm. “I told you I liked you, and you never said anything. Is that… is that why you never dated anyone?”

Wonwoo let out a slow breath, placing his drink down carefully. “I thought you were drunk.”

“I was drunk,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I didn’t know that.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “So what, you avoided me for weeks, pretended like nothing happened, and then just… never dated anyone because of it?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. He stared at you for a long moment, like he was deciding something. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I thought if I told you, it’d change everything. And I didn’t—I couldn’t—” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. “And what about now?”

He met your gaze, something softer in his expression now. “Now, I think I almost did anyway.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and for the first time in weeks, maybe years, you felt like you were finally getting somewhere.

You stared at him, processing everything he’d just said. The years of friendship, the silent moments, the things left unsaid—all of it led to this.

“So,” you started carefully, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, “you spent all these years… what? Waiting?”

Wonwoo let out a short, breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s not like I planned to. I just—no one else ever felt right.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Wonwoo.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. “Do you regret it?”

You blinked. “Regret what?”

“Telling me you liked me back then.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“I don’t regret it. What I regret is not remembering anything”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You really don’t?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted. “If I had, we probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

“And now?”

You held his gaze. “I don’t want to waste any more.”

For the first time in weeks, Wonwoo smiled—not the small, fleeting ones he’d been giving you, but a real one, the kind that reached his eyes.

“Then let’s not.”

The moment stretched between you two, something unspoken settling into place. Wonwoo didn’t say anything else instead he reached for your hand across the table, his fingers brushing yours before curling around them. It was such a simple gesture, but your heart still stuttered at the warmth of his palm against yours.

“You’re really doing this, huh?” you murmured, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Wonwoo’s thumb traced lazy circles over your skin. “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

You squeezed his hand, rolling your eyes playfully. “You should’ve.”

After your shift of course he waited for you to drive you home, the drive was quiet. Like how it usually is. But this this there's a sense of peace, something more comforting. Wonwoo made a thoughtful hum before, to your surprise, he reached over at a red light, fingers brushing against your hand. Then, in the most unexpected act of affection, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“What—”

“I like holding your hand,” he admitted casually, as if this wasn’t the first time he was doing something like this outside of a life-or-death situation. “It’s warm.”

You blinked at him. This man. “Wonwoo,” you deadpanned, but your grip on his hand tightened, betraying you.

“Do you have any idea how confusing you are?” you muttered, squeezing his hand.

Wonwoo chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I think I’m making it pretty obvious now.”

Your face heated up. You turned to look out the window, trying to hide the giddy feeling bubbling up in your chest. And just like that, the rest of the ride home was spent with your fingers still laced together, neither of you letting go.

You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. Wonwoo's hand was still in yours, warm and steady

“If I’m reading this wrong,” he said, voice softer than before, “we can stop. I don’t want to force anything on you.”

You turned to him, watching how he kept his eyes on the road, his usual unreadable expression now laced with something else—something hesitant, something careful.

Your chest tightened.

“You think you’re reading it wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo sighed through his nose, thumb unconsciously brushing against your knuckles. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to assume anything. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to go along with me just because…” He trailed off, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter with his other hand.

Just because he’s Wonwoo? Just because he’s been there always, in ways you never fully understood until now?

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You weren’t used to this—him being the one doubting things when it was usually you who overthought.

The car slowed as he pulled up in front of your place, but he didn’t make a move to let go of your hand. His fingers curled around yours loosely, like he was giving you the chance to let go first.

You didn’t.

Instead, you took a breath and turned to face him fully. “You’re not reading it wrong,” you said, firm but not unkind.

Wonwoo finally looked at you, the flickering streetlight outside casting shadows on his face.

“You’re not forcing anything,” you added, squeezing his hand. “I like this, okay? I like… us.”

Wonwoo just smirked, giving your hand a squeeze. “This is years in the making,” he murmured, like it was the simplest fact in the world. “Let me hold my girl’s hand for a minute more.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head, but your heart was doing something completely different—stumbling over itself at the way he said my girl.

You swallowed, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. Years in the making. You’d never thought about it like that, but now that he said it, you realized—he was right.

All those late-night study sessions, the quiet moments in the on-call room, the way he always made sure you ate, the way he was just… there. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t new. It was just something that had always been there, waiting for the two of you to finally stop dancing around it.

“…Fine,” you muttered, fighting the smile but failing miserably. “One minute.”

Wonwoo chuckled, and instead of arguing, he just laced his fingers through yours, holding on like he never planned on letting go.

[sluttyminghao]

Reader finally letting wonwoo do a kink he’d been wanting to do for the longest time as a birthday present ( you could pick a kink if you’d like !)

You tell him at dinner with your hand lingering on his thigh, and your voice low near his ear. “Tonight’s yours, Wonwoo. Whatever you want, no holding back.”

His eyes flick up to yours. They're calm, they always are, but you don’t miss the subtle shift in his jaw. He’s holding back something, you can tell.

“Anything?” “Anything.”

That’s when he finally says it, quietly, like he’s scared you’ll laugh.

“I want to tie you up.”

You blink, surprised, not by his request, but by the heat behind it. He’s been thinking hard about this, more than likely for a while. He doesn’t elaborate on anything to you. He doesn’t need to, given his simple request.

By the time you're back at the apartment, he already has a simple silk tie in hand, and the nerves in your stomach start fluttering. You let him guide you to the bed, and let him slide the fabric around your wrists, slowly and carefully.

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” It’s not.

He leans over you, hands on either side of your head, his normally saccharine voice dipping lower than you’ve ever heard it.

“You trust me?” “Completely.”

Something in him snaps at that. Not in a loud, messy way, but in that simmering, focused way that only Wonwoo can. He kisses you harder than usual. When he pulls away, his eyes are locked on yours, with one hand at your throat, not squeezing, just holding, and reminding you who’s in charge tonight.

And he takes his time. “You said it’s my night,” he growls softly against your skin. “Then lie still and let me enjoy my gift.”

[yjhzies]

“dad!wonwoo” — hcs

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . head-cannons . dad au

⋆ pairings : dad!wonwoo x f!reader ⋆ note : I think I have smth called Wonwoo fever help [♪♪♪] · your summer, my sea by ???

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who, somehow, knows how to handle everything. A to Z.

— And you're surprised because now you just sit beside and watch Wonwoo do everything for the baby. From bathing to feeding, everything.

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who screamed internally when; in a family gathering, the baby only stopped crying when they rested in Wonwoo's embrace. It was a proud moment for him.

— like, "Look, I'm their father! The one and only."

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who'd sometimes forget to kiss you before leaving for practice because he is in a "hurry." (he didn't forget to peck the baby's cheek and tiny hands.)

— but always makes it up to you by pampering you with extra kisses by the end of the day.

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who'd swear that he had left the baby's pacifier by the cupboard, only to find it in his bag.

— he has a habit of carrying baby essentials with him, even if the baby isn't there. (IM BLUSHING)

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who'd get upset if you end up sleeping by the end of the day instead of staying awake for him.

— he understands that you need rest, but the whole day passes by him leaving for practice, taking care of the baby with you. The only time he can cuddle and kiss you is before sleeping (please don't get him pouting 😿)

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who has everything handled. You don't need to lift a finger, he already has it controlled.

𐙚⋆. dad!wonwoo who'd slowly hold the baby's hand while it is sleeping, and smile to himself that - the little human beside him was a creation of you and him.

— the thought made him giddy; that it was a tiny version of the love you and Wonwoo have shared for years.

[svtiddiess]

Precious Paws: Cats And Cuddles

Synopsis: Wonwoo is a possessive kitty who can’t stand it when you smell like anyone else but him. That’s why it’s so important for him to cling to you the moment you walk through the door.

Pairing: black cat hybrid!Wonwoo x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, hybrid au, drabble, series

Rating: sfw

Word count: 798

Warnings: showering together (but nothing sexual happens!), lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is part of my Precious Paws series! Check out the masterlist here!

Click here to join the series taglist!

Click here to join my general taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Padded footsteps echo through the apartment as soon as you step inside after a long day at work. A small smile tugs at your lips—you already know who it is. Sure enough, Wonwoo, your black cat hybrid, appears. His soft, black ears perk up at the sight of you, and he quickly scuttles over, only to pause right in front of you. He sniffs the air, his nose twitching, before letting out a sharp hiss.

"You smell like other humans," he snarls.

"Nonu, I just got back from work. Of course, I smell like other humans," you chuckle, amused by the routine. This is a conversation you’ve had countless times before.

"But I don’t like it," he huffs, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like it when you smell like anyone else but me.”

Before you can respond, he wraps his arms around you tightly, nuzzling into your neck to rub his scent all over you. You laugh softly, your hands coming up to embrace him as you let him do as he pleases.

After a few moments, his shoulders relax, his ears droop, and his tail lazily curls around you.

"Nonu, I need to go shower," you murmur.

"No," he protests, tightening his hold. Chuckling, you run your fingers through his black hair, earning a soft purr in response.

"We can’t just stand here all night," you tease, but Wonwoo only grumbles, his tail flicking in protest.

Sighing, you start waddling towards the bedroom with him still clinging to you like a koala. You stop just outside the bathroom door and pat his back, signalling for him to let go, but instead, he buries his face further into the crook of your neck.

"Nonu, I really have to shower. I feel gross," you explain gently, hoping to reason with him.

"Then let me join you," he mumbles, his tail swishing hopefully.

"I thought you hated water," you tease.

"I don’t mind getting wet if it means staying with you," he says softly.

Your heart warms at his words, and with a small smile, you agree. Carefully, you take off his glasses and set them aside before leading him into the bathroom. You help him out of his oversized sweater and sweatpants before undressing yourself.

The moment you step into the shower, he wraps his arms and tail around you again, holding you possessively. You giggle.

"Nonu, how am I supposed to wash up if you’re clinging to me like this?" you ask, amused. His response is an unintelligible mumble, making you shake your head fondly.

Somehow, you manage to grab the shampoo, and Wonwoo loosens his grip just enough to let you lather it into his hair. He purrs softly as your fingers massage his scalp, his ears occasionally twitching in delight. After rinsing his hair, he offers to return the favour, his careful hands working the shampoo into your hair while you relax under his touch. When he finishes rinsing it out, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as his ears flush red.

The rest of the shower becomes a playful exchange of helping each other, and before long, you’re both stepping out, fresh and warm. Wonwoo insists you match his fluffy pyjamas, and you can’t bring yourself to refuse.

You sit him down at the vanity and begin drying his hair, the warm air making his ears droop as he starts to doze off. He always enjoys this part of the routine, and you find it endearing when he pouts at you after you gently wake him. Once both of your hair is dry and skincare is done, you climb into bed together, snuggling under the blanket.

Wonwoo rests his head on your chest, nuzzling into your collarbone as his tail drapes protectively across you. You giggle softly when his fluffy hair tickles your neck. In the quiet, your fingers comb through his hair while he traces random patterns on your stomach, his soft purring filling the room.

"Stay with me forever," he whispers, breaking the silence.

Your hand pauses, and you cup his face, gently tilting it up so he meets your eyes. His dark irises sparkle like stars in the night sky, filled with longing.

"I promise I’ll never leave you, my Nonu," you whisper with a smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.

His cheeks flush a deep red, and he hides his face in your neck, embarrassed. You giggle, finding his shyness endearing. Though he’s always eager to shower you with affection, he turns into a flustered kitten whenever you return it.

In the peaceful silence, you hold each other close, eventually drifting off to sleep. Wonwoo, your possessive but adorable black cat hybrid, may be a handful at times, but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Series Taglist: @gyubakeries @archivistworld @kwanniehae @sunnysidesins @adoreuzi @iwannakisspoutycheol @haniegame @moonyxhcbi

General Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96 @kyeomiis