#jeon wonwoo x y/n

[imloyaltoscoups]

after shower | jeon wonwoo

You were sitting on the floor, your back resting against the couch, idly scrolling through your phone. The air smelled faintly of soap and shampoo, and you glanced up just in time to see Wonwoo walking out of the shower, the way his white shirt clung to his still-drying skin made your heart race.

He walked over and sat beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he began wiping his glasses with a small cloth. You couldn't help but stare, your head tilting slightly against the couch as you admired him.

Wonwoo looked effortlessly handsome—his defined jawline, the way his lips pressed together in thought as he cleaned his glasses, the droplets of water trailing down his neck. It was too much to handle.

Noticing your gaze, he raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He placed his glasses on the table, setting the cloth aside before turning his full attention to you.

“What?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he leaned forward, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

You didn’t answer, your breath catching as he closed the distance between you. His hand came to rest on the floor beside you, his face mere inches away. Your heart raced in anticipation, and you waited, your lips slightly parted.

Then, finally, he kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, your hand moving to his neck as you deepened the kiss. Your tongue ran along his bottom lip, silently asking for entrance.

Wonwoo chuckled softly against your lips, the sound low and almost smug, before parting them to let you in. The kiss quickly shifted as he took control, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that left you literally breathless.

You whimpered softly, your fingers tightening in his damp hair as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. His hand found its way to your waist, steadying you as he continued to dominate.

When you pulled back slightly to catch your breath, his lips didn’t stray far, brushing against yours as he whispered, “You really can’t resist me, can you?”

You pouted, your cheeks warm as you muttered, “You’re the one who kissed me first.”

Wonwoo smirked, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline. “And you didn’t exactly stop me,” he teased, leaning in to steal another kiss.

When he's done, he leaned back slightly, still close enough that his breath brushed against your lips. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he tilted his head, studying your flushed face.

“I guess you found me pretty handsome, huh?” he said, his tone smug yet teasing.

You scoffed, trying to look away, but his hand gently cupped your chin, turning your face back toward him. “Don’t even try to deny it,” he added, his smirk deepening. “I caught you staring.”

Your cheeks burned, and you playfully swatted at his chest, though it lacked any real force. “You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, trying to ignore how good he looked sitting there with his freshly showered glow.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered you’d become. “I mean, can you blame me? You’re practically drooling over me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Maybe just maybe.. you’re a little handsome,” you admitted hesitantly.

“A little?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow and leaning in closer, his face just inches from yours again. “Is that really all you’ve got to say after staring at me like that?”

You huffed, and raised both of your hands. “Okay, okay. You’re extremely handsome. Happy now?”

His grin turned softer but no less smug as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Very,” he said, his voice low and full of satisfaction. “But I think I need to hear you say it again. Just to make sure.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you once again, effectively cutting off any of your response with a laugh that rumbled against your lips.

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

[nonranghaes]

"wonwoo?" your voice is so soft now it instantly catches his attention, and he's already pausing his game. "sorry. this is stupid, but..."

it's one of those nights. he can see is plain as day on your face and in the way you fidget with your own sleeves. he can hear your sniffles and see the way you try to subtly wipe away tears. loving you is the easiest thing in the world for him to do, but he knows that sometimes it can be hard for you to accept it.

"can i... can you," you swallow hard, taking a breath and calming yourself down further. "can you just... hold me for a minute?"

he's already making space for you, saying a quick "of course," as he moves to welcome you into his embrace. he's not surprised when you move so that your ear is pressed against his clothed chest, the thin fabric of his t-shirt not enough to muffle his heartbeat. he wraps his arms around you, controller loosely held in one hand as he waits for you to settle completely.

"do you want to talk?" he says after a moment. you shake your head, and he lets the topic go: if you change your mind, you'll say it.

so he just presses a kiss onto the top of your head, and holds you while resuming his game for now. through your teary eyes, you just watch the screen, arms wrapped around him as you snuggle in a little closer.

"wonwoo?" your voice is still so soft. he looks down, and you just squeeze him as best as you can in this position. "i love you."

wonwoo just draws you in a little so that he can kiss your forehead, one arm staying secured around you. "i love you, too."

[svtiddiess]

Glasses

Pairing: Wonwoo (SVT) x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

Rating: sfw

Word count: 0.5k

Warnings: slightly suggestive at the end.

Note: This has unintentionally turned into Wonwoo appreciation month, so why not add another Wonwoo drabble into the mix?

You pout from your seat, watching your boyfriend play Valorant with his friends—it's been hours now, with more than a few "just one more round"s, and you're really starting to get fed up.

You didn't mind that he spends his free time playing video games to destress, but spending the whole day staring at his computer and occasionally yelling into this mic? That got on your nerves.

With a frustrated groan, you fall back into the bed, trying to tune him out. You pull out your phone, hoping to pass the time with some mindless doom scrolling. Your eyes widen when you notice the time—7 p.m.

How was it already 7 p.m.?! Time had flown by so fast, you hadn't even noticed. Huffing, you sit back up—this won't do. You're not about to let Wonwoo give more attention to his computer than to you, especially with him heading back to work tomorrow.

You march up to him and poke his cheek. He lets out a hum in response, but his eyes are still fixated on the screen in front of him.

"Wonu~" you whine and poke his cheek again.

"Yes?" he hums, hands still busy with his keyboard and mouse.

"Pay attention to me," you huff.

"Just give me a few more minutes, hm? The round's almost done," he mumbles.

You let out a frustrated huff, refusing to accept that you're losing your boyfriend to a mere video game. That's when an idea hits you—without a second thought, you snatch his glasses right off his face and dart away.

A startled, confused noise slips from Wonwoo as he blinks around, disoriented. The moment he realises what just happened, he's on his feet, chasing after you. He catches up in no time and tackles you onto the couch, the two of you collapsing into a fit of laughter as you land.

"Give me my glasses back!" he laughs, trying to snatch them away from you.

"No!" you squeal, clutching onto them for dear life.

Wonwoo laughs as he watches you squirm beneath him, doing your best to keep his glasses out of reach. In a last-ditch effort, you slip them on, hoping that wearing them will keep him from taking them back.

Wonwoo's heart melts at the sight of you beneath him, giggling with his glasses perched on your nose. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he leans in and kisses you. You giggle into the kiss, hands clutching his shoulders as you pull him closer. He chuckles, then deepens the kiss.

"Sorry for ignoring you, sweetheart. I got so caught up in the game, I didn't even realise how much time had passed," he murmurs against your lips. "I promise—you have my full attention now."

"Good," you huff.

You start to take the glasses off, but Wonwoo gently stops you.

"Keep them on," he says, adjusting them with a fond smile. "They look better on you, sweetheart." Then he leans in to kiss you again.

You let out a gasp when you feel something hard poking against your thigh.

Oh.

He really likes his glasses on you.

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 @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @cheolsbb26 @scoupshawty @shuas-winnie30 @amaranthar @cherriecsc @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96 @smiileflower @yumyumcoo

[bitchlessdino]

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.” 

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment. 

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember. 

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.” 

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

 “Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.” 

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.” 

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you. 

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force.  You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed. 

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest. 

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface. 

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?” 

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly. 

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it. 

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty. 

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping. 

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin. 

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?” 

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

[headlinxr]

❪ 致你 ❫ ⨾ to you ﹐ 𝓳.𝔀

──𝐒YNOPSIS ┆ 𝔀. you've been meaning to visit your brother 𝐦in-gyu's new house for a while now. but when you finally arrive, somene else greets you─won-woo, his enigmatic roommate. nothing is quite as your imagined, and little by little, that stranger begins to stir questions within you... and feelings you never expected.

──𝐏AIRING ┆︵ 𝓦 ... 𝒻.ᐟℛ𝓮𝒶𝒹𝓮𝓻 (ft. 𝐦in-gyu, 𝐬eventeen).

──𝐖ARNING(s)┆𝐫eader is 𝐦in-gyu's sister, won-woo is 𝐦in-gyu's roommate, 𝐦in-gyu model, writer won-woo, artist 𝐫eader.

𓆤 ⎯⎯͟͟ HEADLINރR .☽༊˚ .°

It was Saturday, and today you were finally going to visit your brother in his new home. Min-gyu was always busy, with a schedule so tight that there was barely room to breathe, much less receive visitors. Opportunities to see him were few and far between, so any excuse to stop by and say hello was a small accomplishment. As an up and coming model, his career had him completely absorbed; it wasn't easy to find a niche in the life of someone making his way up through the big leagues.

Ever since he told you about his new apartment in one of Seoul's most exclusive areas, you had been curious to meet him. You'd been wanting to go for some time, imagining what the place he now called home would be like. And although he sometimes pretended to resent your insistence, you knew that, deep down, he liked having you around.

To your surprise —and, admittedly, also to your relief— Min-gyu had finally managed to squeeze you into his infamous rising star schedule. Between photo shoots, catwalks, social events and endless workouts, that he devoted an entire evening to you seemed almost miraculous. As soon as he wrote to you to confirm the time, a surge of excitement coursed through your body. You feigned indifference, of course, like someone who has a thousand plans and can barely make room. But the truth is that you had been waiting for this moment for days —maybe weeks— waiting for this moment.

When you arrived at his apartment, you couldn't help but smile like a fool. That wide, sincere smile that escapes without asking permission, the same one that always appears when you are about to see someone important to you.

As soon as you opened the door, you saw him standing on the threshold of the dining room, with his apron on (yes, apron), and you didn't think twice.

—Min-gyu!— you shouted excitedly before throwing yourself into his arms.

Min-gyu laughed, catching you with that characteristic carefree gesture, the one that reminded you that, even if his life was surrounded by flashes and red carpets, with you he would always be the same brother as before.

—Can you not shout? My neighbors already think I'm hiding a zoo here— he joked, although there was an unmistakable warmth in his voice.

The place was spectacular. Spacious, with a modern and minimalist design, and large windows that offered a view of Seoul so impressive that it looked like something out of a luxury architecture catalog. Everything was impeccable: The table was perfectly set, a soft and cozy playlist playing in the background, and a warm and spicy aroma coming from the kitchen.

—You did this?— you asked, raising an eyebrow with theatrical skepticism as you plopped down in one of the chairs. —Weren't you the one who mistook the microwave for the toaster?

—Times change— he said with a triumphant air, as he placed the plate in front of you. —Besides, I wasn't going to let you come all this way just to eat ramen. You had to try my best dish.

—And that would be...?

—Min-gyu style chicken. Patented. Unrepeatable. Probably slightly burnt.

You both burst out laughing. Dinner passed between jokes, anecdotes and that kind of complicity that only siblings who miss each other but love each other madly can understand. There was something comforting about being with him, as if the world was put on pause just to give them that moment.

But just when everything seemed perfect, the door to the apartment opened with a dry, resounding click.

A tall man stepped across the threshold. Dark, slightly tousled hair, thick-rimmed glasses, baggy T-shirt, backpack over his shoulder. His expression was that of someone who didn't expect to find a family dinner in the middle of the living room. He glanced sideways at you, then at Min-gyu, then back at you with a look somewhere between curious and tired. Finally, he nodded briefly, as if that were enough to say hello, and without saying a word, he walked quietly into the hallway and disappeared into a room, closing the door behind him as naturally as others open the refrigerator.

The silence that followed was... Peculiar. You looked at everything with your eyes wide open, as if you had witnessed a scene out of a domestic thriller.

—Are you going to explain to me what just happened?— you asked at last, pointing your fork down the hallway.

Min-gyu let out a low, amused laugh, as if everything was completely normal.

—Oh, right... I forgot to mention it. That was Won-woo— he said, as if it was the most irrelevant thing in the world. —My roommate. I've known him for a long time. He's quiet. A little strange, yes... But nice.

—Since when do you have a roommate? And why does he look like a mysterious character from a dorama who keeps secrets in his closet?

Min-gyu burst out laughing for real this time, leaning his head back with a laugh that filled the room.

—I swear he's a good person. He just doesn't talk much. And he always comes in like this. And he always leaves like that. You'll get used to it.

You blinked, still processing the fact that, of all the things Min-gyu could have told you, “I share an apartment with a quiet, handsome guy who looks like he's straight out of a Korean thriller” wasn't on the list.

The evening continued with the warmth that only the company of someone close can offer, but your mind was still anchored on that brief instant: The moment Won-woo crossed the room like a ghost not expecting to be seen. It wasn't as if you were expecting a formal introduction, nor a deep conversation with emotional fireworks, but his hushed entrance, his fleeting gaze and that enigmatic presence that trailed like a second shadow... It left you more than intrigued. They left you wondering.

—And how long has he been living here? you asked, hiding your growing curiosity behind a sip of water, as if the question did not carry a camouflaged interest.

—A few months already— Min-gyu answered as he poured himself another portion of rice, as if it were the most everyday thing in the world, —It was something improvised, he's my manager's brother and he was having trouble paying for his apartment at the same time I was looking for one. The rent here is crazy. But we get along well... Although sometimes he seems more like a cat than a person.

You let out a short laugh. Yeah, that sounded pretty accurate. Won-woo had that same feline energy: Elusive, silent, with a gaze that seemed to pierce through you without needing to touch you. As if he understood more than he said, and said less than he thought. An observer of the world, but in no hurry to be part of it.

—And is he always this... Expressive? you asked with a half smile.

—That was his effusive greeting— joked your brother —Believe me, he treated you well.

The evening closed with laughter, ice cream out of the freezer —which Min-gyu served with the air of a five-star chef—, and promises of a repeat visit. When you left, the hallway was silent, Won-woo's door was still closed, and curiosity followed you to the elevator.

You didn't see him again.

At least, not that night.

A few days passed before you came back. This time, at Min-gyu's spontaneous invitation: Movie night, just like in the old days. Movies, blankets and junk food. Your favorite plan.

When you arrived, Min-gyu didn't reply to your messages. But you already knew the code to the intercom —a privilege that did not go unnoticed— so you went in alone, as if it were your second home.

—I'm home!— you crooned as you entered —I hope you haven't prepared another cycle of psychological horror movies, because I'm not going to spend the night watching traumatized people.

The apartment seemed deserted. Silent. One of those silences that are not exactly uncomfortable, but expectant. You left your bag on the couch and headed for the kitchen in search of something to snack on. It was then that a low, soft, clear voice interrupted the air like a leaf falling on still water:

—Min-gyu is not here. He said he was arriving at fifteen.

You turned sharply.

Won-woo was there, leaning against the doorframe of his room, a cup of coffee in his hand, barefoot, his hair slightly disheveled as if he had just awakened from an eternal nap. His expression was serene, neutral, as if there was nothing unusual about finding you invading the kitchen.

—Ah... Hello— you said, a little awkwardly, trying to regain your composure.

—Hello— he replied with a slight nod of his head. His tone was calm, unhurried, as if every word was carefully measured.

The silence that followed was not awkward, but dense. Filled with something that had no name yet. As if both were waiting for the other to speak first, even if neither had the urgency to do so.

—I'm Min-gyu's sister, by the way— you finally added, breaking the stillness with a polite smile —I'm not sure if we officially met.

—Won-woo— he replied with a small gesture, though you knew perfectly well who it was. His voice, so low and deep, had a curious effect: It didn't fill the room, but it did catch your full attention to. —I know.

Pause.

—I saw you the other day— he added, as if it were a thought he'd suddenly given permission to come out, —You had rice in your hair.

You blinked, puzzled.

—What?

—When you were laughing— he clarified, with that same imperturbable calm —A grain fell on your head. You didn't say anything. You left it there as if you didn't notice.

You let out a laugh, genuine, surprised by the absurd memory of the moment. Had he really noticed that? And why did he remember it?

And then it happened: You saw him smile.

It wasn't a big smile. It didn't even go as far as a full one. Just a subtle curve at one corner of his lips, so brief that you doubted if you really saw it. But it was there. Fleeting. Almost shy.

—Are you always this observant?— you asked, half jokingly.

—Only when there's rice flying— he answered nonchalantly.

Another silence, but this time it was different. Warm, almost comfortable. Like when two people are tuned to the same frequency and don't know it yet. He took a sip of his coffee, turned to go back to his room, and just before disappearing, he said with a disconcerting naturalness:

—You look different today. More... Funny.

And then he simply walked away.

It took you several seconds to process what had just happened. Had it been a compliment? An unfiltered observation? Or just the odd —and slightly poetic— way he had of looking at the world?

Whatever it was, you felt it: That little knot in your stomach that forms when something unexpected touches you in just the right place. It was nothing concrete yet. Nothing definite. But there it was. A silent promise that something had begun.

You went back to the apartment, again, this time without a very concrete plan. Min-gyu had sent you a quick message, with all the elegance that characterized him:

[Min-gyu - 12:23]

I'm free this afternoon if you want to stop by.

Bring something to eat.

I literally don't even have bread.

A subtle invitation wrapped in emotional blackmail. So there you were, carrying a bag of snacks and a cold drink, without much expectation... Although, deep down, you knew exactly why your step had brought you to that door again.

Min-gyu was in the shower when you arrived. You knew because his muffled voice echoed from down the hall with the assurance of someone shouting into the wind:

—Put whatever you want on TV! I'll be out in five!

You plopped down on the couch with the familiarity of someone who had already turned that place into a kind of extension of herself. Reaching for the remote control, you noticed something different: On the table, a shiny black joystick connected to a turned-off console. Next to it, a stack of video games —some with Korean titles, others in Japanese, one you recognized from having gone viral a couple of years ago for its tragic story.

Curious, you picked up the controller and twirled it between your fingers, as if that small object could give you clues about its owner.

—I didn't know they played video games— you commented on the air, without waiting for an answer.

—I play— answered a voice behind you. Calm. Solid.

You turned around immediately.

Won-woo was there, leaning against the wall frame, dressed in a dark sweatshirt with his hair a bit disheveled, as if he had just stepped out of a parallel universe. In one hand he held his ever-present mug-you suspected it came standard with him.

—Oh, yeah?— you asked, smiling curiously, —I thought you were more of a "I meditate with my eyes open for three hours" kind of guy.

—I do that too— he replied matter—of—factly, and walked over to the game shelf without haste. —But on weekends I'd rather save fake worlds than fix the real ones.

His voice had that gentle tone that didn't need to get louder to stay with you. And his commentary... Well, it had that dark, sarcastic and strangely deep undertone that you were beginning to find addictive.

—And what's your favorite?— you asked, sitting up better on the couch, elbows resting on your knees.

—It depends on the day— You went through the titles with your fingers. —RPGs, mostly. Long stories. Where your decisions matter.

—Decisions that matter? Interesting, coming from someone who seemed to take five minutes to decide whether to answer a greeting or not.

He raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, and muttered:

—That's exactly why. Words cost less if you don't use them all the time. Decisions, too.

He disarmed you. Not with an irrefutable argument, but with that way of his of saying things like someone who drops stones into a calm lake and watches the ripples.

—Would you teach me how to play?— you asked after a moment, pointing to the console. —I never understood anything about these worlds. But I always found them fascinating.

Won-woo blinked once, as if your request had taken a while to reach his brain. Then he nodded slowly.

—It depends. Do you have patience?

—I have brothers— you said with a smile. —I'm trained to deal with everything.

For the first time, you saw him laugh a little more freely. It wasn't a laugh, but a broader gesture. Almost human. Almost complicit.

—Then let's start with this one— he said, offering you a box. —It's long, slow... And if you do something wrong, you basically bring on the apocalypse.

—Perfect. Just what I need to relax.

You sat in front of the TV, you with the controller in hand and he calmly guiding you. You were surprised by the patience with which he explained each mechanic. He wasn't condescending, not distant, just.... Meticulous. He chose his words like someone tuning an instrument.

At some point, his fingers brushed yours as he corrected how you held the joystick. It was a brief touch, almost accidental. But you felt it. You felt it in every millimeter of skin he touched, in the silence that followed, in the way he just.... Went on, as if nothing had happened. Or maybe as if something did happen, but you didn't know how to name it.

When Min-gyu appeared, already dressed and drying his hair with a towel, he found them immersed in the game.

—What are you guys so focused on? Did you found a secret clan or what?

—I'm teaching her not to destroy a civilization in less than ten minutes— muttered Won-woo, without taking his eyes off the screen.

—It was a tactical error— you defended yourself with a chuckle —Besides, no one warned me that the “X” button decided the fate of a kingdom.

Min-gyu rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen.

But something had changed.

An invisible door had opened between you and Won-woo. It wasn't trust, not yet. But it was a silent connection, the kind that isn't shouted, forced, or announced. It was felt. And for now, that was enough.

The game had been paused for a while. The console slept like a contented pet, the background music was barely a soft murmur floating through the warm air of the apartment, and the dim lights bathed the room in that golden glow that only comes unintentionally, as if the night itself had made itself comfortable.

Dinner had arrived without great ceremony: Two open boxes on the low table, each with a personality of its own. One was overflowing with cheese to the brim, the other looked like some kind of culinary experiment that, against all odds, worked. Delivery chaos has never been so comforting.

The three of them sat down without order or protocol. Min-gyu plopped down on the floor like a K-pop star in the middle of a world tour break, you took the couch wrapped in a blanket you clearly already considered yours, and Won-woo, with his classic economy of movement, settled into one of the chairs with his legs crossed and his face half hidden behind a steaming mug.

As always, Min-gyu dominated the conversation with his inexhaustible energy. He told stories with that mix of sarcasm and drama that only someone with his social life could afford.

—Then the guy grabs the camera, puts it in front of his face and says, “How do you turn this toaster on?”— he recounted, between chuckles. —I don't know whether to cry about the state of the industry or nominate him for an unintentional comedy award.

—You're sure that wasn't part of the script?— you said, biting back a laugh.

—I wish. The worst thing is that that take did come out well. Ironies of the trade.

Then, as if suddenly remembering, Min-gyu raised a slice of pizza like a white flag and blurted out:

—Ah, and I'm going to China. Two weeks.

—What? So soon?— you asked, glancing sideways at Won-woo, who at that moment was stirring the edges of the cheese as if it were a chemistry experiment.

—Monday. Photo shoots, events, fake smiles. You know. What one does to survive in style. But I need you to keep coming over here— he said, pointing at you with the half-eaten portion. —This isn't just a casual invitation. It's a veiled plea.

—Why? Have I been assigned responsibilities without my consent?

—Let’s say, yes. I want you to hold down the fort, mostly because Won-woo…— he paused dramatically— Isn't exactly the pillar of domesticity.

Won-woo, without looking up from his pizza, mumbled in his unflappable tone:

—Said the man who washed clothes with dish soap.

—It was an international emergency!— Min-gyu defended himself. —Besides, the clothes were left with a citrus scent.

—And the texture of cardboard…

You covered your mouth so as not to spit with laughter, while the exchange continued with the fluidity of a sitcom you already knew well. But between bites and jokes, you kept watching Won-woo.

There was something fascinating about his silent presence. His glasses fogged up at times from the steam of the pizza, black hair fell untidily over his forehead, and his relaxed posture seemed as natural as it was learned. As if he had been in that corner for years, not asking permission to be there, but not needing anyone to invite him either.

And you watched him. Not blatantly, of course. Only at times. Like someone who leafs through a book without deciding yet if he wants to read it from beginning to end.

Min-gyu, in one of his multiple abilities to notice what is not said, interrupted you with a suspicious throat clearing.

—What? you asked, disguising the curve of your smile.

—Nothing. I just think this trip could be very, very productive.

—Productive in what way?

—In the sense that you'll be in charge of the emotional balance of this department while I'm away. And yes, that includes you keeping Won-woo from trying to live on ramen, tea and cynicism alone.

—You exaggerate.

—Your record speaks for you.

The conversation dissolved into more giggles and nibbles, until at one point, perhaps looking for a change of pace, you threw out a question that had been rolling around in your head for some time.

—Hey, Won-woo... What exactly do you do for a living?

He looked up with a leisurely gesture, almost as if that simple question brought him out of another world.

—I sell video games. Collectibles, rare editions. Some things from Japan and others restored. And I... I write, too.

—As a hobby?

—More like a refuge— he replied, without embellishment.

The way he said it was not melancholy, nor dramatic. It was direct. Almost overly honest.

—What kind of writing do you do?

—Situations, small details. Unexpressed emotions. That's where it's all at, I think.

That kind of answer was the exact kind of sentence someone else might have ruined for pretentiousness. But in his mouth it sounded different. It had weight, but not burden. And you didn't know if it was because of what he said, or how he said it, but there was something that stuck with you inside.

—And that pays the rent for this nice place?

—That, online sales, and avoiding going out too much. I don't have many vices.

—Just tea and games?

He nodded. And for the first time, he smiled with his lips, not just his eyes. It was slight, but evident.

The night faded naturally. When you got up to leave, Min-gyu was already half sprawled on the couch, using a napkin as a makeshift mask and the empty pizza box as an abdominal shield.

Won-woo escorted you to the door without a word. The sound of your footsteps on the wood floated over a comfortable silence.

—Thank you for... The pizza— he murmured.

—Thank you for letting me ruin only half a virtual village.

He laughed very softly, and for a second, just one, the two of them stood still. Not too close, not too far. Just... There.

—See you soon, then— you said.

—If I don't forget to pay for the internet, yes— he replied.

The door closed softly behind you, and as you walked down the stairs this time —without using the elevator, as if you wanted to prolong the moment— you realized that something had changed. Nothing definite. Nothing explicit.

But as in writing, what matters is not what is explicit, but what is suggested.

You had left Min-gyu at the airport barely an hour ago, and it already seemed to you that something was missing. Not so much because of the silence, but because of the way the air seemed to have lost its natural rhythm. Your brother had that effect: He made noise even without speaking. There was always music in the background, ridiculous anecdotes, impromptu plans or complaints about such trivial things as the weather or cold coffee.

Now, as you walked with a bag of groceries dangling from one arm and your cell phone vibrating in the other —messages you purposely ignored—you felt a strange anxiety. Attributable, of course, to the thought of having to visit the apartment without Min-gyu.... And with Won-woo there. Alone.

—I just have to check that he's still alive— you muttered to yourself, in a tone more humorous than realistic, though the image of him completely abstracted from the world amidst wires, screens and cups of tea didn't seem so far off.

That was it. Just checking that he hadn't merged with the couch or that he wasn't growing mushrooms in the fridge. Quick. Painless. No unnecessary emotions. No butterflies.

But of course, butterflies never ask for permission.

The click of the door was barely audible, drowned out by the soft hum of the television on. You entered without making too much noise, expecting perhaps to find the room empty, leave the food on the table and disappear. But no.

There he was. Sitting in the center of the couch, with the relaxed posture of someone who had lost track of time. He was wearing a black sweater with white letters almost erased, and his hair, messy as always, fell in unruly locks over his glasses. He was absorbed. He didn't move, except for his thumbs, which danced with surgical precision over the control.

There was something about that image that stopped you. Not just because he looked... Incredibly good —though it did, without pretension or effort—but because it seemed to be on its own planet. A silent, pixelated, and curiously attractive planet. There was something intimate about the scene, as if you'd caught him in a private moment, and yet he didn't seem uncomfortable.

Until he spoke.

—Did you bring food?

He didn't even take his eyes off the screen. But his voice, soft, with that low, neutral tone that sounded like something out of a lo-fi song, jolted you as if you'd been caught prying into his thoughts. Or yours.

—Yes— you said, holding up the bag as if it were a peace trophy. Your tone sounded more shrill than you expected, so you lowered your voice a little as you approached. —I thought you had no supplies beyond tea and apocalypse.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't look at you yet, but you could tell he had listened.

—It's a balanced diet.

—Of course— you replied, pulling out the food containers. —Balanced between nutritional collapse and dehydration.

This time he let out something very much like a laugh. Brief, as if he wasn't used to it, but real.

As you placed the containers on the table, you moved a little closer, without thinking too much. There was something in the atmosphere that made you want to stay. Maybe it was the soft music of the game, the artificial warmth of the apartment? Or just curiosity.

—What are you playing?

Pause. Now he turned down the volume of the TV and turned his head towards you. His eyes were dark and expressive, even behind the glasses. They didn't look at you with distrust, but with that kind of attention that comes when someone really thinks before they speak.

—Sinsong— he finally said. —It's Korean. A strategic RPG with moral decisions. Everything you do changes the course of the game.

—And have you destroyed any villages yet?

—Not yet. But there was a scene... Intense.

His answers were short, yes, but not evasive. There was something honest in the way he spoke, as if he didn't seek to impress, but he still couldn't help but be interesting. That kind of mystery that doesn't try too hard to be.

—Can I try it?— you asked, crossing your arms over the back of the couch.

He looked at you as if trying to figure out if you were serious. Then, very slowly, he nodded.

—If you don't mind losing in the first five minutes?

—I have pride, not fear.

He made room for you on the couch and handed you the controller without touching you, but so close that you could catch the soft scent of tea and freshly washed clothes. He stayed by your side, explaining game mechanics with a patience that contrasted with his seemingly introverted nature. He spoke in a low voice, weighing each word carefully. But there was something in his tone, in the way he glanced at you sideways every time you fumbled with the controller, that hinted at another layer.

Won-woo was reserved, yes. But not closed off. He seemed to live inwardly, observing everything, storing away details no one else noticed. Like when he scratched the back of his neck while thinking about how to explain a game system to you. Or when he pushed his glasses up with one finger without even realizing it.

And you... You noticed everything.

After nearly an hour, you managed to save one village and accidentally destroy another. He didn’t laugh, but his smile was clear enough to tell you he was enjoying it.

When you got up to leave, the atmosphere had softened, as if something had settled between you. Not necessarily immediate trust, but a quiet truce. A mutual recognition.

—Thanks for the food— he said, this time looking at you directly.

—Thank you for not judging my military skills— you replied, opening the door.

—I haven’t finished the analysis yet— he murmured.

You said it jokingly. But his voice… Carried something else. A spark. And for the first time since you arrived, you felt like maybe… It wasn’t just curiosity that kept pulling you back.

It was him. And now, more than ever, you wanted to find out what else was hiding behind those foggy glasses and carefully measured silences.

You were about to turn the doorknob when something —maybe your conscience, or maybe just that impulsive part of you that never shuts up— stopped you. The hallway was quiet, with that mid-week stillness buildings tend to have when everyone else has things to do except you.

You didn’t want to seem eager, or nosy, or anything like that… But something inside you refused to leave without trying. So you took a deep breath, like you had to convince yourself first, and spoke without turning around.

—Hey… Before I go— you began casually, like you didn’t really care about the answer. —You should give me your number. Just in case, you know... Fires, ninja attacks, the fridge becomes sentient and declares war. Emergencies, normal stuff.

The silence that followed was longer than you expected. Not awkward, but… Dense. Like inside the apartment, someone was reorganizing their entire internal operating system to process what you had just said.

You turned, and there he was, exactly as you’d left him: On the couch, the video game controller in his lap, body half-sunken into the cushions like he’d been there for hours. But now he was looking at you. And that already meant something had changed.

—My number?— he repeated, like the phrase was new to him, strange, or too intimate to process so quickly.

—Yes— you said, keeping a calm smile, even though you were chewing yourself up inside. —Not to stalk you or anything. Just... It’d be useful. In case I find out you left something on. Or if the ceiling collapses on you and I need to call emergency services. Nothing weird.

Won-woo shifted slowly, like his body couldn’t decide whether to stay where it was or bolt out the window. He took off his glasses and started cleaning them with the sleeve of his sweater. Not because they needed it, but clearly because it was his way of thinking without saying much.

—I don’t usually… Give out my number— he murmured, not looking directly at you. His voice was calm, but there was a hidden tension at the edges, that soft discomfort of someone not used to being reached.

—I don’t usually ask for the number of guys who barely talk— you replied, raising an eyebrow. —We’re both out of our comfort zones, aren’t we?

That pulled a half-smile from him. Brief, shy, but genuine. Like he was thanking you for not pushing, for understanding him even when he didn’t say things outright.

—All right…— he said finally, and looked down at his phone. —You give me yours too. For... Balance.

His tone almost sounded like a joke, but without the confidence of someone who tosses jokes around easily. It was more like an attempt to bring lightness to something that clearly felt very personal to him.

—I was just about to suggest it. We wouldn’t want to throw off the universal balance, after all.

You handed him your unlocked phone, and he took it with the care of someone holding a sleeping animal. He typed slowly, with long, meticulous fingers, making sure not to mess it up. Then he gave it back, barely looking at you, like he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than this moment already was.

—Done— he said. —But... if you call me, I probably won’t answer.

—And if I text you?

—I’ll... Read it a few times. Maybe think of a reply in my head and not send it. Or write it and delete it. But... Yeah. I’ll reply. Sooner or later.

You couldn’t help but smile. There was something so transparent about him, so unfiltered, it was endearing. No effort to seem more interesting, more fun, more anything. He was just him. A quiet guy, distractingly attractive, with measured replies and long silences that somehow didn’t make you want to run away.

—Perfect. I’ll keep that in mind. Though I hope if the fridge explodes, your reply won’t just be an ellipsis.

Won-woo blinked a couple of times. Then, in his driest, most serious tone:

—I don’t use emojis.

And that was it —the final straw—. You laughed. It was quick, spontaneous. You covered your mouth with your hand, not out of embarrassment, but because it surprised you how easy it was to be there. With him.

You walked to the door, this time slower. You felt like you’d crossed some invisible line between the practical and the personal. You weren’t just “Min-gyu’s sister who’s watching the apartment”. At least not in the way he was starting to look at you.

—See you soon, Won-woo— you said as you opened the door.

He nodded. It seemed like he was going to leave it at that. But just as you took your first step out, his voice, almost a whisper, reached you from behind.

—Thanks for... stopping by.

It was simple. Unadorned. But coming from him, it sounded almost intimate. Like his own particular way of saying “I liked having you here” without having to face the embarrassment of saying it out loud.

You turned around one last time.

—It was… Nice— you said sincerely. Then, after a pause, —And I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy beating you at the end.

Won-woo smiled to the side, like someone keeping a rematch hidden up their sleeve.

—That victory was... Generous on my part.

—Uh-huh. Sure it was— You winked at him. —Till next time, strategic-defeat champion.

The door closed softly behind you, but the echo of the conversation —his voice, his awkward interest— followed you all the way to the elevator. As it descended, with no one else around, you couldn’t help but look at your reflection in the steel doors and smile.

You didn’t know exactly what was starting to happen between you and Won-woo, but it was... Different. And somewhere deep inside, that subtle flutter told you you didn’t want it to end any time soon.

The elevator dropped you off on the ground floor, but your mind was still floating somewhere much higher. Between Won-woo’s final comment, that rare but real smile, and the way he said “thanks for stopping by”, something had lodged itself inside you. Something small. Uncomfortable in the best way. Like a pebble in your shoe, but in your chest.

You walked home more slowly than necessary, the empty bag swinging from your wrist and the ridiculous feeling that you’d left something behind. Not a scarf. Not your dignity. Something more subtle. Maybe part of your focus. Your energy. You.

When you got back to your apartment, you kicked off your shoes, dropped your keys on the table with a metallic clink that broke the silence, and flopped onto the couch with that kind of drama that only comes when part of you is waiting... For something. Anything.

You closed your eyes. Opened them again. Stared at the ceiling. Then turned your head toward your purse, knowing full well your phone was in there, waiting like a silent accomplice. And that’s when the inner battle began.

“There’s no point in texting him. You already said everything that needed to be said. It was just one shared afternoon. A video game. A pizza.”

But the other voice —bolder, more you when no one’s looking— piped up without shame.

“What if you just want to text him? Because not everything has to be necessary. Because maybe you just feel like it. And that’s enough.”

You sighed softly, grabbed your phone like someone surrendering to the inevitable, and opened the chat. The empty screen was intimidating. A blank, silent space that seemed to say “nothing’s happened here”. But you knew better. Something had.

You typed something. Deleted it. Tried an emoji, hated it, deleted that too. Until you gave in to what you actually felt: Simple. Light. Expectation-free.

[You – 10:17 PM]

Made it back fine. No alien invasions on the way. So far.

The moment you hit "send", you dropped the phone like it burned, like you hadn’t just spent the last five minutes debating whether to text him at all. You got up to make some tea, even though the water never even boiled. You came back to the couch. Looked at the screen. Still blank. Of course.

“He probably read the message, panicked, and is now thinking it over in some dark corner while his imaginary cat judges him.”

Eleven minutes later, just as you were about to give up and open a dumb video to distract yourself, your phone buzzed.

[Won-woo – 10:28 PM]

Good. Glad the fridge didn’t win this time.

You smiled. Not a loud one. Just that soft, silly smile that slips out when no one’s watching. The kind that says more than you’d ever admit out loud. Because he’d replied. Not just that—he got the joke. He matched your tone.

You read it again. As if there were a second, hidden layer beneath his words. Then you replied without overthinking:

[You – 10:29 PM]

It was a tough battle. I escaped with minor injuries (burned a finger on the microwave). But I survived.

A few seconds passed. You saw him “online”. Then “typing.” Then nothing. Then “online” again.

“Weird”, you thought, amused.

[Won-woo – 10:33 PM]

The microwave has always been the most treacherous one.

You laughed quietly, with that warm feeling that seeps into your skin without asking. You typed again.

[You – 10:34 PM]

I know. It has a suspicious look.

Thanks for today, by the way.

That “thanks” came out heavier than you meant. Because it had been more than just another afternoon. And you knew it.

A few minutes passed, then his reply came:

[Won-woo – 10:36 PM]

I didn’t do much.

But… It was nice.

The word "nice" felt small, almost shy. But coming from him, it sounded like a confession. Like low���volume vulnerability. Like “I liked having you here”, without actually saying it.

You rested the phone on your chest, as if its warmth might linger a little longer. The silence in your apartment didn’t feel so heavy anymore. It had a different texture now, like someone else had left their shadow behind.

You weren’t in love. Not yet. But something had shifted. Or started.

And for the first time in a long while, you wished the night would last a bit longer. Not necessarily to keep talking. Just to stay in that feeling. That invisible thread you’d somehow started to share with someone who spoke little but said so much between the lines.

The next time you went to the apartment, you weren’t just carrying food or some improvised excuse. You brought cookies. Homemade. Or, well, as close as you could get to something edible and baked, given your limited baking skills. The first attempt had been a tragic disaster, but the second... The second had shape, color, and even a promising smell.

You walked in without knocking, as usual, but this time he wasn’t in front of the TV, nor holding the joystick or lost in some video game. Won-woo was by the window, slightly hunched over an open notebook, as if the outside world didn’t exist beyond the words he was writing.

You stopped cold, not wanting to interrupt right away. The scene felt intimate, fragile. His glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose, and his messy hair shifted with every faint breeze sneaking through the window crack. He was so focused he seemed to float in a slower, entirely his own frequency.

You knocked gently on the doorframe with your knuckles.

He looked up, startled, like he’d just landed from somewhere far away.

—Were you writing?— you asked with a sideways smile, lifting the makeshift box of cookies like some kind of offering.

Won-woo closed the notebook quickly, almost guiltily, like you’d caught him doing something too personal. His reaction surprised you, though not entirely. There was always a part of him somewhere between wanting to share and the instinct to hide.

—Something like that— he said, not quite meeting your eyes. —Nothing important.

—And how do you decide that?— You stepped closer, setting the box on the table. —Do you always write by the window, or is that part of your mysterious writer aesthetic?

That earned a small, almost imperceptible smile—but enough.

—The light is good— he replied. —And almost no one interrupts me.

—Until today— you added, shameless. —But I come in peace. And with cookies. I think that gives me the right to stay.

He reached out to grab one awkwardly, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to eat something made by someone else. He examined it like he was analyzing its molecular structure, then took a bite.

The verdict: A neutral expression, followed by another bite and a slow nod.

—They’re good.

And for some reason, that simple "good", spoken in his quiet, honest voice, warmed your chest in a ridiculously disproportionate way.

—What were you writing?— you asked, nodding toward the now-closed notebook.

He hesitated. You saw him swallow, look down at his hands.

—Ideas. Scenes. Things I imagine when I’m not… Avoiding people— he said, with a hint of self-deprecating humor. —Sometimes I write stories. Other times, just scattered lines. Thoughts.

—And you keep them all in there? Like a journal?

—Not exactly. It’s more like… A conversation I don’t know how to have out loud.

That made you pause. The sentence carried unexpected weight. You looked at the notebook, now a loaded object.

—Have you ever thought about showing what you write?— you asked—not pushing, just curious.

Won-woo shrugged, lowering his gaze to his hands.

—I’ve thought about it. But I’m not sure what I write is any good. And sometimes, when I read it again, I feel like... I’m exposing too much. Like someone could read it and see all of me.

—That doesn’t sound so bad.

—For someone like me, it is.

You stayed quiet for a moment. Then decided to offer something back.

—I draw. Or at least I try to. I have a notebook full of mural ideas, abstract stuff, weird colors. Some phrases that keep following me around. I’ve always wanted to do something with it, but…— you shrugged —Sometimes we sabotage ourselves too, don’t we?

—Yes— he said, his voice barely a whisper. —You become your own obstacle.

There was a pause. One of those that doesn’t feel awkward—one that lets the words breathe.

—Do you have your drawings here?— he asked, with a softness you didn’t expect.

You shook your head, smiling.

—No. But if you ever invite me for tea, I might bring them.

He didn’t say anything—just nodded. But that gesture, that small tilt of his head, carried the gentleness of a true yes. As if he’d just opened a door that was entirely his… Just for you.

That night, you didn’t rush to leave. You left slowly, feeling that something had shifted. Not in a grand or obvious way. But just enough.

And when you got home—after slipping off your shoes and dropping your keys in their usual spot—you saw it. A short message glowing on your phone screen.

[Won-woo – 10:04 PM]

Thanks for the cookies.

And for staying.

The words came easier today.

You lay back on the couch with a soft smile, almost without realizing. The phone resting on your chest like a musical note still vibrating.

You didn’t know if he would ever show you what he wrote, or if you’d actually let him see your drawings. But something was definitely growing between the two of you. Not a movie—kind—of—story. Something slower. Something real.

Like a story written by hand.

Like a line sketched without erasing the one before it.

You returned to the apartment one afternoon when the sky seemed to have forgotten how to be blue. It wasn’t raining, but the air smelled like it might—like a promise of water, a soft melancholy that clung to your skin like a light blanket. It wasn’t a special day. Not his birthday, not a marked date. But you were carrying your notebook. That made it different.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t show it. That you’d bring it along "just in case", like someone taking an umbrella when the forecast says “maybe”. And yet, as soon as you stepped inside, you knew it wasn’t just a remote possibility. It was a decision you’d been chewing on for days.

Won-woo greeted you with his usual gesture: A slight nod, no words. But this time, his eyes lingered on yours a second longer, as if he noticed something different. Maybe he did. You felt it too.

He was in his favorite spot, by the window, a cup of tea in his hands and a half-open notebook in front of him. The pen rested on top, forgotten.

—Did I interrupt your creative session?— you asked, slinging your backpack over the back of a chair.

—Not enough to be mad about it— he replied without moving, with that dry tone laced with subtle humor that you were starting to understand better than anyone.

You sat on the couch, dropping your bag to the side. Outwardly calm. Inside, a whirlwind. You hesitated for a few minutes. Chatted about random things: The weather, the playlist he had on, how useless electric ovens were for baking decent cookies. He listened, quiet but focused, with that expression of his that made it seem like he wasn’t giving opinions—but was storing every detail in some private corner of his mind.

Finally, before you could change your mind again, you opened the backpack and pulled out your notebook.

You placed it on the table with a mix of shyness and determination, without looking at him directly. As if just putting it there was an act of bravery on its own.

Won-woo tilted his head, curious.

—Is that…?— He didn’t finish the question, but you filled in the silence.

—My sketchbook. Where I draw. Sometimes I write too. It’s not organized or anything.

He looked at it like you’d just offered him a map to an unknown place. And then, with the kind of respect someone might have for a borrowed relic, he asked:

—Can I see it?

You nodded. You weren’t sure if your hands were shaking on the outside, but inside… Every heartbeat felt like an unspoken truth.

Won-woo took it with both hands. His fingers were long, steady, almost ceremonial as he turned the first page. And then, simply, he began to read. Or look. Or feel—because he didn’t comment, didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask for explanations. He just moved through the pages with a reverence that made it feel like every sketch, every word, deserved its time.

Half-human figures, dreamed murals, fragments of poetry, splashes of color where some emotion had spilled uncontrollably. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t flatter you. But his complete attention was enough to make you feel that—for the first time—someone was seeing what you’d made without trying to fix it, just trying to understand it.

He stopped near the end, at a page you’d scribbled on at 3 a.m., the ink smudged:

“I’m scared to be seen. But I’m more scared of never showing myself at all.”

His eyes lingered on the words. And instead of saying something clever, he simply said:

—I feel that too.

It caught you off guard. He didn’t speak like that—not easily.

—You feel… What?

—I’m scared too. Of sharing what I write. Of someone reading it and really seeing me. But also… Of never letting that happen at all.

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You just sat there, sharing that—raw vulnerability. A mirror confession.

He was the one who stood up first. Walked over to the shelf, rummaged through worn—out notebooks, and pulled out one that looked like it held history. He handed it to you—not ceremoniously, but with a certain care. He opened it to a specific page, like he had chosen it in advance.

—It’s not a full story— he said. —Just a scene. But… I don’t know. Maybe you’ll like it.

You read in silence. It was a fragment of something bigger. A conversation between two characters on a train. He wrote with restraint, no unnecessary flourishes, but every line carried weight. It was honest. Deep without trying to be. As if he wrote from somewhere very far inside—but still with his feet on the ground.

—This character…?— you began.

—Isn’t me— he said right away. But then he added, lowering his gaze. —Not completely.

—You could write a whole story from this— you told him. —It’s beautiful.

He looked at you then—and for the first time, didn’t look away so quickly. There was something different there. A certain trust. Or maybe a need to trust.

—What if you drew the scenes?— he said. —Like little snapshots. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just something… Ours.

That last word hung between you. Not as a promise. But as a spark.

—We could try— you said. And you sounded more confident than you felt. But also… Freer.

You didn’t hug. You didn’t hold hands. But as you were leaving, he didn’t hand back the notebook.

—Can I keep it for a few days?— he asked.

—Sure— you replied. —But don’t correct anything.

—Never.

And when you closed the door behind you, you knew that something between you had opened. Not suddenly. Not loudly. But with the exact rhythm of a story just beginning—one no one else needs to understand for it to be real.

The message came mid-morning, while you were still in pajamas, your hair tied up any which way, the breakfast mug forgotten on the edge of the sink. Just another notification—no sound, no urgency—but the name on the screen was enough to make your pulse quicken, just a little.

Won-woo sent you an image.

You opened it without thinking. It was a photo. Nothing more. Nothing less.

An urban landscape, captured in a moment suspended between fog and noise. Sidewalks still wet from an earlier drizzle, reflections of unlit streetlamps on the asphalt, an old building in the background with glowing windows—as if someone were reading behind each one. No people. Just a near-cinematic stillness, like the world was breathing in a whisper.

You smiled, instinctively, automatically.

[You – 10:03]

It’s a beautiful photo.

Feels like a scene from your story.

You were about to set the phone aside when his reply arrived, as precise as a second thought:

[Won-woo – 10:09]

I’m glad you like it.

Are you free this afternoon?

I thought… We could go to a café. Talk a bit about last night.

You read the message several times. No exclamation points, no emojis—but knowing him, it felt like a leap. A simple invitation, but one that said a lot coming from him. And you knew it. It wasn’t just coffee. It was a bridge.

As you picked up the empty cup and forced yourself to pull together some kind of composure, your mind drifted to him. How he wrote. How he noticed beauty in the things others ignored. That quiet way he had of telling the truth without raising his voice. He had a kind of sensitivity that didn’t need to announce itself, and maybe that’s why it ran deeper.

“Elegant without meaning to be”, you thought. As if his talent weighed on him, as if he was shy about having something so personal others could touch.

You got ready without rushing, but with more care than you were willing to admit. You slipped a notebook into your bag—the good one, the one you used when inspiration truly hit—along with a few pencils, just in case.

The café he’d suggested was only a few blocks from the apartment he shared with Min-gyu. It wasn’t a well-known place. The sign was barely visible, the tables were pale wood, and the hanging lamps cast warm yellow light. The air smelled like freshly ground coffee and old books.

“Perfect”, you thought. It seemed like the kind of place someone like him would choose.

You arrived a few minutes early—because you wanted to. Because you wanted to be there before the moment began.

You waited outside, hands in your pockets, eyes scanning the street. And when you saw him coming, the world seemed to pause for a beat. He walked with that unhurried pace of his, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, a gray scarf tied clumsily around his neck. His hair was carefully combed, though a rebellious strand still fell across his forehead. He wasn’t dressed to impress, but there was something about the way he carried himself that felt… Different. Present. Like he’d taken care, too.

He saw you and raised a hand in a brief wave. No words. But that small smile… Tt undid you.

—Hey— you said, glancing down a little, still smiling.

—Hey— he echoed, his voice calm, almost a murmur.

You went into the café and chose a table by a fogged-up window. He ordered an americano, no sugar. You got a cinnamon latte. The waitress jotted it down with a distracted smile and walked off. You were alone. The hum of the café made the perfect backdrop for what was to come.

—Did you bring your notebook?— he asked, motioning subtly toward your bag.

—I did— you said, pulling it out as if presenting something with reverence. —Also some pencils. In case inspiration decides to slip away.

—Or in case I start saying a very profound thing— he joked—his usual way: Barely noticeable, but charming.

You laughed, and that sound seemed to loosen something between you. The coffee arrived, bringing a comfortable pause. He held his cup with both hands, like it gave him courage. Took a sip, then looked at you—direct, but not invasive.

—I’ve been thinking… About what you said. About sharing what we make. About not always hiding it.

You nodded, but said nothing. You wanted to listen more than speak.

—I don’t know if I’m ready for a lot of people to read it— he went on. —But I’d like to keep sharing it with you. Not because I feel like I have to. But because… I want to.

Your heart made a strange noise. A flutter. A crack letting in the light.

—Thank you— you said. —I feel the same. I don’t know why, but ever since I started reading your words, I’m less afraid to draw the things that really matter to me.

He looked down for a second, a small crooked smile on his lips. Then he looked up, and for a moment, he wasn’t the shy Won-woo—you saw him more clearly. More fully.

—Can we create something together?— he asked. —A project, small, big, doesn’t matter. I want to see what happens when your drawings and my words meet in the same place.

—What if it doesn’t work?

—Then we’ll have shared something. That alone makes it worth it.

You picked up a pencil without thinking. Started sketching soft lines on the paper, no explanation. He didn’t interrupt. Just watched you, fingers still wrapped around his mug.

—What are you doing?— he asked eventually, curiosity blooming in his voice.

—Drawing you. But this time, without the mystery. Just a guy in a café, with the most honest eyes I’ve ever seen.

He blushed, clearly. And you pretended to focus on the paper so you wouldn’t laugh too loudly.

You spent the afternoon talking about stories. About characters you both wanted to write. About scenes you imagined. He told you he once wanted to be a screenwriter but gave it up because it felt too pretentious. You told him you once dreamed of painting murals all over Seoul, though you still weren’t sure if you had the courage.

The conversation bloomed like a flower you didn’t know you had planted.

And when it was time to go, he offered to walk you to the corner. Outside, the afternoon had already turned to night. The city lights felt like a soft echo.

—I want to keep seeing you— he said, like handing over something he’d been holding too long.

—Me too— you said, meeting his gaze with a sincerity that even surprised you.

The words came so fast, it startled you. Like all the air you’d been holding in your chest had finally been released in that sentence. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t just a response. It was the first time something inside you also wanted to be spoken.

Won-woo blinked, as if you’d thrown a stone into water and he was watching the ripples reach his side. He was silent for a moment, processing. Then, without panic, he opened and closed his mouth a few times, like searching for the right word in the maze of his thoughts.

—I’m glad— he finally said, in a soft, almost hesitant voice. —Because that way we can keep the story going.

The words fell like a single drop into a pond, sending out waves inside you. His reply came so quickly, so mechanically, that for a second you wondered if he really understood what you’d just said. Or if maybe, he’d gotten lost in his own world of untold stories and unsaid things.

And there it was —an unnecessary clarification, a near-clinical detachment that slightly ruined the warmth of the moment. As if everything that had just happened was now reduced to a continuation, an extension of something already in motion.

Your smile froze. It wasn’t sadness. Not contempt. Just... Confusion.

You weren’t expecting a grand declaration. You weren’t expecting anything specific. But part of you had lifted with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same. That his gaze held more colors. That his words carried more weight.

And now, hearing those simple words, you understood what made Won-woo who he was. Someone who maybe needed to frame everything —every gesture, every word. Someone who didn’t quite know how to let life happen without a script. Without something to hold onto.

—Right… The story— you said, lowering your gaze, feeling the weight of those words settling over you like dust. But you said it calmly, as if the world kept turning despite the tiny crack that had just opened between you two.

He nodded without thinking. Then looked away, as if the small curtain of silence that had just fallen between you didn’t affect him. As if he hadn’t noticed the faint shadow that passed over your face.

The disappointment —soft, almost invisible— cut deeper than you expected. But you understood. He doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to play in the shadows of the unsaid, in the small spaces where language fails. And still, in his own clumsy but honest way, he was trying.

You walked in silence, unhurried. The city carried on around you —cars gliding by, distant conversations humming, the sky heavy with a promise of rain. Each step seemed to move you further from what had just happened in the café. But something inside you —a small spark— remained alive. You weren’t ready to let it die.

—Don’t worry— you said, breaking the thick silence that had formed between you. —I love the story.

And it was true. You did. Even if the way he had said it left a bitter taste, there was still something in those story fragments that felt like yours. Like you were part of something bigger than just a simple encounter.

He glanced at you, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. He didn’t say anything, but something in his body eased. Maybe, just maybe, he understood that not everything about you could be handled like a neat, linear narrative.

When you reached the corner, you both stopped. Just stood there, watching the street, the traffic, the ebb and flow of strangers as if looking for something in the city’s movement.

—Will I see you again soon?— you asked, no hesitation, letting the question linger like an unspoken wish.

Won-woo’s answer came with the same precision as before. His words, so measured and controlled, felt heavier than the silence that preceded them.

—Yes. I’ll write to you tomorrow. I promise I won’t leave it paused for too long.

Something in that response —so small and tangible— began to melt away the disappointment, though not entirely. It’s not what I hoped for, you thought. But maybe it’s all he can offer.

You watched him cross the street, unhurried, as if everything were perfectly normal. His scarf caught the wind, and for a moment, it felt like time stretched —that the image of him walking away etched itself in your eyes, like a scene from a movie whose ending you’d never get to see.

And as you watched him disappear, something hit you with sharp clarity:

“Not all feelings have to be big. Not all moments need to be monumental to matter. Sometimes, all you need is the quiet unfolding of a story —soft, subtle, whispered”.

“He’s trying”, you told yourself, feeling a quiet peace spread through your chest as the evening deepened and the city moved on.

That night, back home, the notebook you’d left on the table seemed to be watching you from across the room. And when you opened it, hands still slightly trembling, a thought came to you:

“Maybe I just need to let this story flow on its own—no rush, no expectations.”

And for the first time, that thought didn’t scare you.

The notification came just after noon, sunlight slanting across the table as you stirred a spoon in an already cold cup.

[Min-gyu – 12:04]

I’m back, little sis.

Are you coming over tonight? I’ve got stories to tell.

Brought stuff.

Oh—and Won-woo’s picking me up from the airport.

You read it once. Then again. And on the second read, your heart did that silly little leap you’d come to know so well.

Won-woo.

That name again, ringing like a held note, slipping into the spaces of your day. As if he’d become part of your routine without you realizing it.

He went to pick him up. You didn’t know why that mattered so much. But it did.

That afternoon, you packed a small bag —not because you needed to, but to have something to hold onto. You tucked in some lemon cookies, Min-gyu’s childhood favorite, and your notebook— the one you carried everywhere like a quiet secret. You picked an outfit—simple, but chosen with care. Nothing loud, but suggestive.

When you got to the building, the first thing you noticed was the apartment door—slightly ajar. A small gesture, but intimate. As if they were waiting for you.

You pushed gently. Stepped in.

And you saw him.

Won-woo was in the kitchen. Standing like a figure from another frame. No sweater or loose jeans today. He wore a blue linen shirt, the collar open, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Dark pants, crisply pressed. His hair styled with quiet intent. But that rebellious strand —always him— still fell over his forehead, undoing the seriousness.

He looked… Like a different version of himself. One you didn’t see every day.

And in that instant, a sharp mix of emotion and doubt swept through your chest. You didn’t know if it made you happy to see him like that. Or if it hurt.

Because you didn’t know if that version was for you.

Or for something that was about to happen—and that you still didn’t understand.

You raised your hand and smiled, trying to make sure the gesture didn’t give anything away.

—Hello— you said.

—Hello— he replied, with a half-smile that didn’t quite form.

Min-gyu looked up from his open backpack. —Little sister!— And then yes, you ran towards him as if time had rewound. You hugged tightly, with those laughs that didn’t need an explanation. The hug smelled like the airport, like new fabrics, like distance overcome. You closed your eyes for a second and let yourself be in that familiar place: the arms of the one who reminds you who you are.

—Look what I brought you— he said, rummaging. —I couldn’t resist—. He pulled out an embroidered blouse with golden threads, a pair of jade earrings that seemed to have been sculpted with ancient patience, and a bamboo-covered notebook that cracked when opened.

—Min-gyu… This is incredible— you whispered, touching the items as if they were fragile. As if everything, at that moment, was fragile. —Thanks to you— he said, lowering his voice too. —For respecting my space. For being here. You’re always here. You know you’re my safe place.

“My safe place”, you thought. How easy that sounds… When there’s no risk of parting. You settled in like always. You by the window, Min-gyu in his favorite chair. And Won-woo in the middle. But it wasn’t the same. There was something different in the air. In how he held his glass, in the way he didn’t quite settle back. Like he had one foot in another place. Min-gyu began to talk. And talk. About flavors, streets with red lanterns, clothes hanging from balconies, a man who mistook him for a famous actor and asked for a selfie on a train. You laughed, because laughter was a refuge, a pause. —And thanks for not killing the balcony plant— he joked, winking at you. —I’m impressed.

—It almost died. I talked to it. I gave it black tea. I think it believed me—. He laughed. You did too. And by instinct, by reflex, you turned toward Won-woo, looking for that shared glance. That invisible line that connected you when no one else could see it. But he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were fixed on his phone. And his expression was hard, tense. Like someone waiting for something important, or just having received it. Min-gyu noticed the silence.

—And you?— he asked teasingly. —What’s got you so caught up? Won-woo lifted his gaze like someone emerging from a dream.

He blinked. —A message. For work— he said, without inflection.

—Really? Where?— A second of pause. Almost imperceptible. Like he hesitated to say it.

—Busan.

And that’s when the world, for you, stopped spinning.

The blow was so brief, so clean, that you didn’t make a sound. Your body didn’t move. But inside, something cracked. Like a dry branch under the foot of someone who didn’t want to break anything.

Busan.

You repeated it silently. As if you could lessen its power by thinking it without sound. You gripped the edge of the chair, searching for air. And asked, with a voice you didn’t recognize as yours:

—And… Are you going to accept it?

Won-woo shrugged slightly.

—I don’t know. I just read it—. You didn’t look at him, but you felt it. You felt the distance. The pressed shirt. The faint smell of cologne. The way his attention had been elsewhere all night. Like something was already saying goodbye without you being able to stop it. Min-gyu changed the subject with a joke, with another story. But the thread that had connected your thoughts had already come undone. Everything was background noise. A stranger’s laughter. White light in a room too large. The story that seemed to be beginning now revealed itself as a parenthesis. Beautiful. But finite.

The offer was good. You knew that with a quiet certainty, almost painful. All it took was reading a line of what Won-woo wrote to understand it. He had that strange talent of looking at the world with a piercing tenderness, capable of turning a simple beam of light falling on a carpet or a pair of umbrellas forgotten at the entrance of a bookstore into a scene that tore at you, but in that sweet, almost addictive way. Like when an old song pulls you toward a memory you didn’t know you missed. That you thought you had forgotten. Of course they had wanted him.

Of course someone, somewhere in Busan, had read those words with the same tremor you felt the first time. That voice had something. Something valuable, unique. A quiet beauty that deserved to explode in more eyes, in more souls. To reach further. To be heard louder. And you… You just wanted to stay a little longer in that echo. In that half-open notebook that, for an instant, had let you see something not meant for anyone.

You thought about the offer. Drawing what he wrote. An apparently simple gesture. But to you, it was something else. It was a key. A crack. A secret invitation to an intimate place, where his thoughts breathed defenseless, where you could discover him without him knowing. And now… Where was that place? The emotion that had ignited you that afternoon —like a match that catches in the wind, fleeting but intense— no longer burned. It had been extinguished before you could bring your hands to the heat. Too soon. Too real. It wasn’t his fault. Not entirely.

But that didn’t stop the pain. You didn’t know what your place was in his life. Maybe you didn’t have one. Maybe you were just “Min-gyu’s sister who shows up with tupperwares and cookies”. Or maybe you did. Because there was something in his eyes. In the silence between words. In the way he listened to you without interrupting.

And yet, now you felt him closing up again. Like a flower folding before a storm. Like a door that opens just enough to make you dream of the light, and then shuts with that final click that sounds louder than it should.

Did you have the right to be sad?

You asked yourself that while pretending to laugh at one of Min-gyu’s absurd stories. This time he was talking about a taxi driver who collected traditional knives and offered him one wrapped in silk, in the middle of traffic. You laughed out of reflex, but you were far away. Very far. On another plane. Trapped in that thick, nameless emotion: Between emptiness, resignation, and a silent anger you barely knew how to recognize. You sought relief in the external world.

You looked at a cup, a scraggly plant, the shape the shadow drew on the floor. As if focusing on something else could save you from thinking about him. But then you did. You looked at him. Won-woo no longer had his phone. He had set it aside, as if it no longer mattered.

Now, he was watching you. Directly.

With those eyes that said more than words could hold. They weren’t cold. Nor empty. There was something calm but sharp in them. An unspoken goodbye. A doubt that begged to be read. There was no hardness in him. Rather, there was a fragility trying to appear solid. As if he were telling you with his gaze: "Don’t judge me for not knowing how to hold this." He stretched out his hand, took a cookie. Held it for a few seconds. Looked at it as if inside it he could find something missing. And then he bit into it slowly, as if buying time to avoid speaking.

Min-gyu, busy with one of his gifts, noticed the heavy air that had formed like an invisible cloud in the middle of the room. —So?— he asked with a sideways smile. —Are you going to tell us about that magical proposal, or are you going to keep staring at your phone like it’s a tragic novel?— Won-woo raised his eyes. His mouth was already empty, but his throat full of doubts. He took a second longer.

—There’s not much to tell— he finally said, in a low voice. —It’s just a possibility. Nothing certain.

Min-gyu snorted, amused. —Always so mysterious. You’re a poem locked with a padlock.

You remained silent. You felt that if you said a word, your voice would break in your throat. And maybe with it, something else. Min-gyu turned to you, with that playful spark he used when trying to lighten the mood.

—And you? How was it these days with this hermit of poetic silences?— Thousands of images crowded your chest. The walk under the wisteria, the coffee you shared without saying a word, the moment he took your notebook and flipped through it silently. "I want to keep seeing you", he had said. "To continue the story". And you had wanted to believe it was true. But now… Now you didn’t know.

—Fine— you said, and the word felt like a half-empty glass offered with a forced smile.

Min-gyu looked at you carefully. He read you like always. Quickly. Effortlessly. He raised an eyebrow, mischievously.

—Will you help me with something in the kitchen?— You didn’t need an excuse. You got up. Your body tense, as if it was about to break. You followed him. Only when you crossed the door and Won-woo’s face was out of your sight, did you release a little air. You didn’t know how long you had been holding it in.

Min-gyu opened a cabinet, took something out —it didn’t matter what— and placed it on the counter without even looking at it. Then he turned to you.

—Do you want to talk?— he asked, straightforwardly, with that unadorned tone he only used when something truly mattered to him. And you… Looked down. You didn’t know where to start. But you knew you needed to say it. The air in the kitchen smelled of wilting jasmine, like a memory refusing to disappear. The steam from the abandoned tea had dissipated, but its scent still floated between the shadows.

Half-eaten cookies rested on a cracked porcelain plate, silent witnesses to a conversation that had yet to begin. The hanging lamp bathed the scene with a warm, dim light, gilding the edges of the silence. Min-gyu leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his face serene. He didn’t ask. He didn’t hurry. He was just there, like a reliable presence who knew how to read the gaps between words. Your fingers gripped the edge of the table, white from tension, as if that wood could hold you beyond the inner tremor.

—It’s strange— you murmured, not lifting your gaze. —He asked me to draw his stories. That’s all, on the surface. But the way he said it… It sounded like something else. Like behind that proposal, there was a crack, an invitation to look inside something he himself didn’t dare name—. Min-gyu nodded, with a minimal gesture. He didn’t need to say anything: His listening was a refuge.

—I thought it was just a courtesy— you continued. —A passing comment from someone who admires your work. But his voice... It had weight. Like he was offering me a corner of his universe. Not a leading role, no. Just a corner from which to watch. And still… I can’t stop thinking about it—. You placed a hand on your chest, trying to calm the vibration that had settled there. A constant echo.

—Since then, I’ve been thinking about it. Not just about him, but about how he makes me feel. It’s like an unease that doesn’t dissolve. Like my whole body knows something is moving beneath the surface and can’t ignore it.

Min-gyu tilted his head, with that loving patience only seen between siblings who have shared scars. His voice was low, as if not wanting to disturb the delicacy of the moment. —And what do you feel?

You took a deep breath. The air thickened, full of the unspoken. Then you spoke, as if undressing with words. —It’s like walking on a tightrope. Sometimes, I feel like with just one look from him, I could understand everything. That his silence has more language than any phrase. And other times… He becomes distant, almost unreal. I convinced myself it was a delirium. A mirage I wove on my own.

Min-gyu moved away from the counter with a light sigh, crossing the space until he was closer to you. —It’s not a mirage if you feel it. Even if he doesn’t know how to hold it, even if he doesn’t even know he’s giving it. What you received, what made you tremble... It was real.

Your eyes found his, and for a moment, you found in his gaze the recognition you needed: Someone else validated the existence of that intangible thing that overwhelmed you.

—Sometimes, I imagine him in scenes. Neither romantic nor logical. Just… Moments. Like my mind searching for spaces where we can both be without this vertigo. Today, for example, I saw him eat a cookie, and I thought of drawing him like that. With his head tilted, eyes lost, as if he were chewing a memory. Or sorrow—. You laughed briefly, with a hint of shyness.

—And at that moment, I imagined he said something. I don’t know what. Something he didn’t say and maybe will never say. But it made me want to capture him there. With ink. As if by drawing him, I could keep a part of what I don’t understand—. Min-gyu watched you with an old tenderness, the kind that knows your defeats and doesn’t judge them. His words were soft:

—You are not naive. What you feel has roots. And what he carries... It's not light. Sometimes people walk around with stones in their chest without even knowing they are there. And then they trip, without even understanding why.

You nodded, swallowing the lump that rose in your throat.

—There are times when I wish I could hug him— you whispered. —But not with the desire of someone who loves. But with the urgency of someone who wants to stop the other from falling apart. As if just holding him could prevent his ruin.

—And other times…— Min-gyu added, anticipating your emotions, —...You wish you could shout at him. Ask him why he looks at you as if you were a fire. And then walks away as if afraid of getting burned.

You smiled sadly. A tear trembled, rebellious, but didn't fall. As if even your tears knew it wasn’t the moment to give up.

Min-gyu returned to his original position, took a sip of the now-cold tea, and scrunched his nose thoughtfully.

—Look, sister— he said, with his most intimate tone. —I don't know what knot he has in his throat, but I do know this: When someone touches your soul, even if just a little, it's natural to want to build them a shelter. But you can't live in that house alone, if he doesn't want to enter.

The silence returned, thick and sincere.

—So, what do I do with all this?— you asked, your voice low, as if carrying a secret too heavy to bear.

Min-gyu came closer. He wrapped his arms around you and held you, like someone who’s learned that sometimes the only remedy is human warmth. His chin rested on your head.

—You keep it— he said. —Like you keep an unsent letter. Not to forget it, but to understand it someday. And if the moment never comes, if you never get to deliver it... You’ll still know it was real. That it existed. That it made you tremble. And that, in itself, is love.

When you returned to the living room, the first thing you noticed wasn't his absence, but the perfect gap he left. As if the air was still shaped to his form. Won-woo was no longer there, but the cookies from the plate had disappeared, leaving only a few crumbs scattered like a harmless trace of what could have been a silent goodbye.

You sighed involuntarily, like someone exhaling a bit of their soul. You looked for Min-gyu, needing some form of refuge. He responded with a simple gesture full of tenderness: A hand on your shoulder, like an anchor; the other smoothing the couch, inviting you to rest as if he could shelter you from the weight you carried in your chest.

The night fell without drama, wrapping everything in that thick mantle that sometimes seems to have a will of its own. From the next room, you heard Min-gyu’s door close gently, like a curtain falling without applause. And then you were left alone, accompanied only by your thoughts, which were many, loud, and disordered.

You wrapped yourself in blankets, seeking shelter more than warmth. Part of you felt ridiculous. All this, you thought, why? For a man who hadn’t even given you certainties? For a connection that perhaps only lived in your imagination?

You turned on your phone. The cold light of the screen illuminated your face as if you were the protagonist of a scene with no name. You scrolled through the old messages with Won-woo. At first, there had been magic: Loose words that felt like keys, jokes with double meanings, questions that weren't asked out of courtesy but out of desire. Now, only gaps remained. Dead time. Interruptions that had become routine.

You sighed deeply and long. With a frustration that had no scream but had a knot. You threw the phone to the side, where it landed with a dull thud, without scandal. And you took your head in your hands, as if you could squeeze your thoughts to make them stop hurting.

—You shouldn’t do that— said a voice behind you, low and raspy, like the echo of an ancient dawn. —You'll have to buy another one later.

You froze. Your heart suspended. You turned slowly, as if fearing you had imagined it.

But no. There he was. Won-woo. Different. In a loose t-shirt and cotton pants, as if he had also stripped away all his masks. His hair disheveled, feet bare, and in his eyes, a calm that wasn’t indifference but intimacy.

—I couldn’t sleep— he said, his voice coming from a soft place inside him. —Do you want some tea?

You nodded. The words didn’t come, but your silence took the shape of acceptance. He walked to the kitchen without hurry, as if every movement were part of a secret ritual. The sound of the boiling water filled the room with a serene murmur. There was a sacred pause in the air. As if the whole universe had stopped just to listen to what you hadn’t yet said.

When he returned, he offered you a cup. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa, keeping a polite distance, but one filled with meaning. As if he knew getting too close would make everything explode.

—Thank you— you said, barely, with your voice wrapped in tea steam and fragility.

Won-woo nodded, but didn’t say anything right away. He took a sip, looked at the cup, and then spoke with the serenity of someone who had been chewing on his words all night.

—I was thinking... About the work. About the proposal.

You lifted your head, alert. It surprised you that he mentioned it again. After so much distance, that simple comment was almost a caress.

—And?— you asked, softly, not wanting to scare the conversation away.

He turned the cup in his hands, as if searching for answers in the porcelain.

—I don't know if I can— he said, straightforwardly. —I don't know if I want the world to see what I write. I’m scared they won’t care. That they’ll look at it and feel nothing. That it’ll be invisible. Or worse, that you’ll put your art into something that’s not worth it.

Your fingers tightened around the cup, as if you wanted to hold him too from afar.

—Don’t say that— you whispered, with a hardness you didn’t expect to have. —Your words matter. I read them. And they hurt, and they moved me. And they kept me awake, thinking. Not everyone can do that. You can.

Won-woo then looked at you, directly, with those eyes that couldn’t lie even if they tried.

—It’s not just the work— he said, and in his voice, there were cracks that let light through. —It’s what changed since I mentioned it. What happens to me when I imagine you drawing what I wrote. When I see you close. When I realize there’s something moving inside me, and I don’t know how to stop it. Or how to name it.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was fertile. A ground waiting for the first seed.

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Because something inside you understood that this couldn’t be resolved by talking. That there were feelings that could only be held with a still body, with trembling breath, with the heart juggling.

Won-woo looked down at his cup, as if afraid he’d said too much.

—I’m scared of what crosses between us— he confessed. —What I don’t know if you feel too. What escapes me every time I look at you for more than five seconds.

You stayed silent, but brought the cup to your lips, as if the tea could give you courage. Your heart was beating in every direction. You didn’t know what to say, and maybe it didn’t matter. Because in that polite distance, on that shared sofa, with those two warm cups, the essential had already been said.

There were no names yet. No promises. Just a possibility beating between the two of you, like a flower about to bloom.

The silence settled between you like a third presence, invisible but intense, filled with something that had no name but pulsed strongly. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was dense, like the calm before an electric storm. Outside, the city seemed to have held its breath, and the distant lights of the buildings flickered like fireflies trapped in a glass jar.

The corner lamp spilled a soft, amber, and melancholic light, gently caressing the edges of the scene with tenderness. Your fingers played with the rim of the already empty cup, as if in that simple gesture, you could find some sort of comfort. Won-woo did the same. His eyes were lowered, but his brow spoke loudly. In his silence, there were questions he dared not ask, fears tangled with desires, words that seemed to have barricaded themselves behind his lips.

It was then, without warning, that your voice broke the calm surface of the moment.

—What if i do?— you asked, almost in a whisper. —What if we feel the same?

He lifted his gaze. One second. That was enough. Because sometimes a second is enough to crumble walls, to let a truth slip through the cracks of what’s unsaid.

Won-woo didn’t respond immediately. He took a breath, that dense air that seemed harder to take than before. He placed the cup on the low table with a slowness almost ritualistic, as if letting go of it was accepting that he could no longer hold that distance. He straightened up but didn’t come closer. Not yet. His eyes rested on you, with a gravity that hurt and healed at the same time.

—What if we ruin it?— he murmured, with that voice that seemed made for reading love letters that were never sent.

—What if we don’t?— you answered, not breaking eye contact, not trembling.

And then everything changed. Not like an earthquake, but like the thawing of an ancient river. You saw him give in slowly, as if he finally accepted that what was between you was stronger than the fear. Deeper than the doubts.

There was no music. No memorable phrases. Just his steps drawing near. First, his eyes, searching for you. Then, his hands, which hesitated in the air before touching yours. And then, the breath, warm and contained, suspended between you like an unsaid prayer.

The kiss came like the last leaf falling from a tree in autumn: Inevitable, silent, perfect.

It wasn’t a hungry kiss. It was deep. It was a descent into the sacred. As if by brushing your lips, he was opening his chest and showing, without reservation, everything he had hidden. He leaned towards you with the reverence of someone touching something sacred, and you received it with your eyes closed, as if this gesture were an old promise, finally fulfilled.

Your fingers clung to his shirt, not out of weakness, but out of the need for an anchor. His hand rested on your cheek, tracing a slow caress with his thumb, as if every inch of your skin could say something his mouth had yet to find words for. It was a kiss filled with tenderness, yes, but also with vertigo. A leap without a net. A language only the two of you spoke in secret.

And although it lasted only a few seconds, time curved. Because there are kisses that break the clock. That undo the rules. That melt the past and the future into a single, absolute now.

When you parted, it wasn’t by will. It was out of the need for oxygen. Your foreheads stayed pressed together, eyes closed, as if neither of you dared to look at what you had just unleashed.

Won-woo’s hands touched you with affection, an affection never expressed but always present in the silence of the air. A half-smile rested on his lips, almost sad, almost endearing. He moved closer again, this time with an intensity you never would have imagined from him.

His hand, which had rested like an anchor on your cheek, slid down the curve of your neck, barely grazing the skin with the tips of his fingers, as if exploring new and forbidden territory. It wasn’t the urgency of desire, but its most delicate version: The desire that breathes, trembles, waits to be allowed.

Your lips parted not to speak, but because the air seemed thicker, as if suddenly it was harder to hold it in your lungs.

—I don’t usually do this— he whispered, in a voice almost inaudible, as if speaking to himself. —Not like this.

—And how do you do it, then?— you asked, barely brushing the words, as if you weren’t sure whether you wanted the answer or the silence that could avoid it.

He didn’t answer. He only lowered his gaze to your mouth and then met your eyes again. There was a question unasked in his gaze, a surrender that wasn’t total but was inevitable. Then his other hand searched for the curve of your waist and wrapped around it with a slowness almost liturgical.

And you... You gave in. But not like a fall: You gave in like a flower blooming in the night, silently, without announcement.

Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, not with desperate passion, but with the care of someone who fears that if they hold on too tight, the other will disappear. His mouth returned to yours. This time it wasn’t a shy brush: It was a slow, deep exploration, lips barely parted, breaths mingling. It was a kiss that didn’t ask, but offered.

Was it love? Was it desire? Was it the echo of a long-shared loneliness?

The doubt floated, suspended in the air, like an ancient perfume. And yet, you didn’t want it to dissipate.

He guided you without hurry, with fierce delicacy, to the carpeted floor. The blanket fell aside, wrinkled, like a silent witness. You lay between twisted cushions and soft shadows. No words were spoken. There weren’t enough words. Only sustained glances and caresses that asked without speaking.

His hand slid down your back, moving with a mix of respect and desire, as if seeking entry to something more than your body. Your legs tangled with his, seeking shared warmth, that warmth that starts as a brush and ends as an entire tongue speaking without a language.

He lay down next to you, pressed against you like a shadow finally merging with its origin. His warm breath grazed your neck, and you shivered. You closed your eyes, but not to sleep. You closed them to feel better, to let the touch speak for you.

—Is this... Real?— you asked, with a voice like water, like crystal trembling on the verge of breaking.

Won-woo didn’t respond immediately. He just held you tighter, as if holding you this way could seal something he didn’t yet know how to name.

—I don’t know— he whispered, his mouth barely grazing your clavicle. —But I don’t want it to stop.

And that was enough.

Because sometimes it’s not about understanding. Sometimes it’s just about being there, about allowing someone to come closer with that dangerous sweetness of someone who isn’t sure if they’ll stay, but touches you as if they will. Outside, the world could keep sleeping, ignorant of what burned inside those four walls.

But here, in this corner of night and desire, two souls were tentatively recognizing each other. And even though neither spoke the word “love”, in the way they touched —with fear, with surrender, with reverence— something sacred had already begun.

Because maybe love, at first, is nothing more than this: A shared silence, a tremble in the skin, the certainty that someone, at last, dared not to run away.

[yoongissweetdream]

A Little Too Comfortable - Wonwoo

- Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x bff!reader

- Requested by: no-one. It's just an idea I had that wouldn't leave my mind and Wonwoo once the poll.

- Synopsis: Maybe dating her best friend wouldn't be such a bad idea?

- Warnings: mentions of nudity, showering, him and reader may be a little too comfortable with each other, kissing, friends to lovers trope, mentions green is readers favourite colour after black.

- Word Count: 1,289

- Requests: CLOSED until May or June

- Tag List: Open. Tag List Form

Wonwoo Masterlist | SEVENTEEN Masterlist | Taglist Sign-Up

Entering her best friend's home, she makes her way into the bathroom where he’s showering, lowers the toilet seat lid and takes a seat. She’d texted him before he got into the shower saying she was on her way over. This wasn’t anything new for them especially since they’ve been doing it since they were babies and only stopped when either of them was or are in a relationship. It’s not like they could see anything as the steam from the hot water enveloped the room.   

Hearing someone enter the bathroom, he pokes his head out of the shower door and squints his eyes, to make sure it’s her and not one of the guys stopping by unannounced. Even though his vision is blurred from not wearing his glasses he can still make out that it's her. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re a little too comfortable with each other,” he says returning to his shower. “I’m guessing your date didn’t go well?”   

“I spent an hour listening to him go on a scientific rant about how black is not a colour, after I said it was my favourite colour, like I’m some dumb preschooler,” she scoffs. “And then I spent another hour listening to him go on about other useless scientific facts that are common knowledge. He’s not even a freaking scientist! If I want to be educated, I’d date someone that I already know that's super smart”   

“That’s a hard no,” he says, the thought of her dating someone they already know doesn’t sit well with him. It’s because he thinks that they would be a terrible match and awful for each other but more because he’s selfish when it comes to her. A part of him doesn’t want to share her with them as more than friends.   

“Seriously, though,” she continues, leaning back against the wall with a playful sigh. “I don’t need to be lectured on colour theory while I’m trying to enjoy a nice meal. What’s next? A deep dive into plant genetics?"  

"Sounds like you had a wonderful time," he says, a sarcastic tone to his voice as her lathers his shampoo into his hair.  

She laughs softly at that. “Would have been nicer if we stuck to discussing our favourite things.”  

"Should have said green is your favourite colour," he chuckles, rinsing out his hair. He knows the actual colour is a close second to black, specifically forest green and emerald.  

"Maybe we should just date and see where it leads," she sighs. "We already know each other well enough, and I've seen you naked multiple times so that takes the awkwardness out of it."  

He pauses mid-rinse, his heart skipping a beat at her suggestion. “Wait, are you serious?” he asks, peeking out from behind the shower curtain with wide eyes, droplets of water cascading down his face.  

“Why not?” she shrugs playfully, crossing her arms over her knees as she leans forward. "I already like you and you're not a bad kisser."  

"We've only kissed once and that was when we were 15," he says, recalling the time of their one and only kiss. They were each other's first kiss, wanting to try it out before they started dating. It was awkward and sloppy, but they would be lying if they said they didn't feel something back then.  

"Twice," she reminds him of their drunken kiss on the New Years that they got to spend together in what felt like a long time. She was studying at university, and he was off becoming a big star in the kpop industry.  

He raises an eyebrow, the playful banter between them igniting a familiar warmth in his chest. “Okay, fine, two kisses.”  

"Maybe three," she sighs, bowing her head in faux embarrassment as she holds up three fingers.  

"Three?!" he asks, shocked and trying to dig through his memories of a third possible kiss.  

"No, I'm joking," she says, lifting her head with a cheek smile.  

"Aish," he cusses at her, flicking water in her direction before leaning back into the shower, away from the chill in the air. The steam swirls around him as he finishes washing his hair.   

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says, his voice light as he turns off the water, wraps a towel around his waist and steps out of the shower. The cool air brushes against his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth that spreads in his chest at the thought of what she just suggested. There was a time or two or maybe six when he contemplated what it would be like if they were anything more than friends. Finding his glasses, he puts them on and turns to face her. 

"How much do you love me?" she smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief.  

"Enough to take our relationship to the next step," he admits, causing her smirk to falter and the mischievous look in her eyes to turn to one of hope. "To be honest, I've been thinking about it a lot. Maybe it's why all our past relationship and all those dates that didn't make it past the first one, never worked out. It could be that what we are looking for is already in front of us."  

She bites her lip, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling in her stomach. “So, what are you saying? We should give it a shot?”  

He steps closer, towel still wrapped around his waist and pulls her up from where she sits. They're almost chest to chest as he rests his hands on her hips, causing her to become flustered. “It all makes sense,” he says, his words coming out as a whisper.  

She looks up at him, her heart racing as she processes his words. “You really mean that?” she asks softly, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt. "You're not messing with me?"  

He smiles down at her, a warm grin that reaches his eyes. “I really mean it. I'm not messing with you."   

One of his hands moves to her cheek. She can feel the warmth radiating from his touch, and it sends a rush of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He leans in closer, their faces only millimetres apart. She can hardly believe what’s happening, her heart pounding in her chest as his lips hover just above hers. It feels like the world around them fades away as lips lightly brush against hers.   

Before he can pull away, she presses her lips against his more firmly, drawing him back into the kiss. His hand on her cheek, slides back down to her waist, pulling her even closer. She ignores the damp feeling of her shirt, as the kiss deepens. This kiss feels much different than the sloppy awkward one they shared at 15 and the drunken one they shared a few years ago. This kiss is filled with unspoken feelings that had been building up over their years of friendship.  

As they pull away, both are left breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Smiling he presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. "Let me get dressed and I'll take you on a proper date."  

"Promise you won't talk about colour theory and plant genetics the entire time?" she asks, the mischievous glint in her eyes returning mixed with the pure unconditional love she has for him.  

He pretends to think about it. "I'm not a scientist so we should be okay," he says with a smile.  

"Good, because if you start going off about how black is technically the absence of colour, I might just walk out," she teases, her heart still racing from the kiss as she follows him out of the bathroom.  

© yoongisssweetdream - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead. 

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[juniperdugong]

Photobooth - Wonwoo

WC: 2.8k || Genre: Fluff, Angst (?) || Ooo they crushing on each other

A/N: We'll call this a late bday present for him lol lotsa fluff, is this also angst? Idk. This is the song I had on repeat writing this, Imagine it during the climax

You and Wonwoo had hung around the same people for a while, your friend groups slowly merging before you could comprehend it. So it wasn't exactly a surprise that you'd see him here tonight but you're trying your best not to look in his direction all the same.

You guys haven't talked much... or really at all without someone else in the group being there. It's a given seeing as you're both on the introverted side anyway.

Over time you've grown to welcome seeing his face at a party or in a crowd and you've developed a little bit of a crush, one that you definitely did not mean to create. But really who could blame you?

It was Wonwoo. And the way his messy hair hung so perfectly over his face. How his glasses would fog up on occasion. And god... the way he'd lift his shirt up just a tad to wipe them. You might be insane for the thought but there's no way someone that attractive isn't getting gawked at 24/7, like clockwork.

And that's exactly what you're trying to hide as he sits across the table from you. You're drinking more than you had before he got here and you can feel the heat in your face as the buzz sets in. You've been avoiding his eyes as best you can, but you can't help noticing that he's been looking at you very intently since he sat down.

Wonwoo's been nursing a beer for the past 30 minutes, his face still slightly red from the pregame he and the boys did at the previous bar. Now he's sat in front of you. Purposefully he had pushed Dokeyom out of the way to get this seat but now that he was here he had zero idea of how to approach you. He's been trying to catch your eye the entire time but you haven't looked his way once. He goes to speak but is interrupted.

"Guys! I have a great idea!" Your friend stands up to address the table, the fact that most of you are completely out of it only makes it so that several people are cheering her on the moment she rises. "Let's go to a photo booth shop!"

In minutes someone's already handled the bill; No one cares to ask questions this far into the night. And your posse is perusing the streets looking like a bunch of fucked up college students; Not exactly wrong but not right either.

You're hanging back in the pack like you usually do. The cold air hitting your warm face feels so good that you have to close your eyes to take in the feeling. "Hey." You're startled from your daze as you see Wonwoo pull back and wait for you to catch up to him, "The night air?"

"Yeah, feels nice." The silence grows between you two as you continue walking side by side. Neither of you can tell if the heat you're feeling is from the drinks or from the intense blush you feel coming on but both of you are glad that tonight is breezy, the air serving to calm down some nerves. The last time you were alone was that night.

Not too dissimilar from tonight actually. A bunch of your friends were hanging out at a camping-themed cafe where you could sit around a fireplace. Due to how many of you there were several campfires were taken up.

You and Wonwoo sat a few chairs away from each other, by coincidence you had ended up in this smaller group as a close friend also sat here. It didn't take long for either of you to notice the other. Small glances back and forth and flickering smiles when you caught each other's eye.

Somewhere along the way, almost everyone got up to go and order more food, and as people trickled over to the counter you and Wonwoo were eventually left alone.

The tension was thick with unspoken attraction and you were both waiting for the other to make any moves. Finally, with a lump caught in his throat, Wonwoo got up and sat in the chair next to you. "Y/n, right?" You gave a little nod and chuckled, "Yeah and you're Wonwoo?". "Yep, exactly right."

You guys kept talking and talking the entire night, the conversation never dipping into silence or awkwardness, it felt like you could be here forever and never get bored. It all seemed to come naturally with Wonwoo.

Even once your friends came back the chatting didn't stop. Some of them eye the way you guys had gotten close within a matter of minutes, smirks as they could see the connection forming before their eyes. The way that with each new topic, you guys somehow managed to get physically closer. Scooting your chair to hear him better. Wonwoo leaning in subconsciously as you ramble. Both of you are practically knee to knee by the end of it.

More and more of your group dispersed as it got later in the night but you both were too enthralled in conversation to notice anyone had left until it had gotten dark.

"It was nice talking, y/n." The way the moonlight and campfire gleaned on him made your heart race.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun Wonwoo." His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and his chest burned whenever anything so much as a smirk was on your lips.

"I'll see you around?" You hoped he was talking sooner rather than later.

"Of course!" He held onto those words like a promise.

It wasn't until you both had gotten into your cars that you realized that you didn't get each other's numbers. Shit!

It's been months since then. You've seen each other at other hangouts but neither of you had the guts to talk to the other again. Something ate at the confidence you had that night and you haven't been able to look him in the eye since. You'd never thought that you'd have a crush this intense at your age but something about Wonwoo made you feel like a highschooler again.

And he's been the same way, although a bit more direct than you. Every time he's seen you since then he'd try to get closer to you, at least be near you to quench his thirsty lovesick heart with your voice... Even if it's not directed towards him. Just staring at you made him flutter, honestly. He's been festering on these feelings for a while, even since before that night if he was being honest, but every time after that his tongue hasn't been able to form coherent sentences around you. It's like a curse.

A curse that it seems some alcohol can quell, at least for a little bit.

"We haven't talked much, have we?" He starts, the shop is just around the corner yet right now he prayed that it was miles away so he could take his time.

"Nah, we haven't. Not since..."

"Not since the campfire?"

"Yeah."

"Hey! You two! Get inside!" A quaint smile forms on your lips as someone yells for you to hurry up. Wonwoo gives a small chuckle but bites his lip to suppress the touch of anger rising now that your conversation has been cut short.

As you get in you can already see that everyone takes charge in claiming different accessories and filing into photo booths in small groups. You didn't really feel up to taking photos, far too heated from Wonwoo's company from before. Looking around, you spot some fun sunglasses shaped like daisies. They were good enough for photos and who knows? Maybe sober you will like the outcome.

After grabbing the sunglasses you dip into an empty booth and begin going through all the different styles. You're slightly hiccuping and now you can definitely feel the alcohol kicking in.

"You mind?" You'd just settled on the only appealing style out of your choices, one obviously meant for couples, one surrounded by red and pink hearts. Of course, Wonwoo had to interrupt. You have half the mind to tell him you do mind jokingly but you're too swayed by him to joke right now, "Not at all."

Now you're sat squished up in the booth with him. The flush on your face could be explained by the drinks but it's more than likely getting redder due to Wonwoo's presence.

"Sorry, all the others were taken and I didn't want to be left out." An excuse, he'd seen you come in here and he was eager to talk to you again. Alcohol really did wonders for confidence.

"It's fine, really." You smiled a bit in his direction and suddenly his heart is thumping like a rabbit's foot. "I don't even like taking photos..."

"Why not?"

"I never like how they come out."

Impossible, you're like the most beautiful person in the world, y/n. He can't even begin to comprehend your way of thinking. You were the most stunning thing in his field of view whenever you were around, how could pictures with you in them ever turn out bad?

"What?" Fuck Did he say that out loud?

"What?"

"Did you just *hiccup* call me beautiful? Wonwoo."

"I don't know." His eyes are wide and suddenly he feels as sober as a dog. He feigns innocence with a confused stare in your direction and thankfully your drunkenness takes him for his word.

"Wonwoo..." A numbness came over you that allowed for words to spill.

"Yeah, y/n?"

"I think I really like you." Great. Now he's sure he's completely sober. He turns to you, the sunglasses hiding your drowsy eyes as you lean against the side of the booth. And he's not even sure if you'll remember saying this. Great!

"You mean that?" Please say yes.

"Mean what?" You're completely out of it and he can see it, as quickly as he resigns to you forgetting what you said you speak again, "That I like you? I do mean that."

His jaw drops and he isn't sure what to do. Does he run away and grab one of the accessories that will cover the intense heat on his face? No, he doesn't want to leave you. Does he tell you he likes you back? No, that's in vain you're already not all here. Well, you are in a photo booth... He presses the START button.

"Will you be mad if I kiss you right now, y/n?"

You look at him with glazed-over doe eyes, letting the sunglasses slip off your face and fall to the floor. You didn't know if this was some sort of sick joke, a hallucination fueled by the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, or worse a drunken mistake on his part. But it was too sudden a question for you to process the options in this state.

3...2...1...Say Cheese!

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He opens the curtain to the photo booth and is ready to get up. This was a bad idea. Nothing you said should mean anything to him but it doesn't keep from the pang of disappointment he feels. Suddenly your hand is gripping his wrist telling him to stay seated, and he does.

3...2...1...Give the Camera a wink!

Both of your hearts are racing. The tension of the moment suffocates you guys but you're too caught up to notice the heaving of your breaths. You grab his face with both your hands, trying your hardest to focus on just him. Your stupor makes it extremely hard but you persist with the small amount of soberness in your body.

It takes far too long for either of you to realize as your lips press together. The shock of plush lips lights you ablaze, it's as if someone held a flame to all the booze coursing through you. You're too far gone to know that you're the one that had leaned into him and not the other way around.

3...2...1...Blast off!

If Wonwoo's eyes could pop out of his skull they would. He's nearly out of the frame of the camera as you push up against him. Your brows furrow as you close your eyes getting more into the kiss and now he's feeling awkward with his eyes wide open. He thinks your focus might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen. God, you are all he wanted, huh? A smile creeps up on his lips before he lifts his glasses and deepens the kiss, placing a hand on the small of your back and using the other to gently wrap around the back of your neck.

3...2...1...Silly Faces!

Maybe it's all the drinks but both of you swear that the other's taste is addictive. Your hands travel from his face and down his neck, pulling him in impossibly closer. You're both hungry for each other, if any of the others saw it'd probably look like borderline cannabilism with how animalistic you were going at it. Mouths trying to trace the memory of each other onto the walls of your cheeks.

It was sensual yet innocent, any trace of lust replaced with an intense passion and love. You can vividly imagine the many kisses that you could share with Wonwoo in your lifetime. Pecks on the cheek, goodbye kisses as you leave the house, intense makeout sessions, all of it. All the little quiet moments of intimacy to the burning giant gestures of love, everything with Wonwoo. It's the only sober thought you think you've had all night.

3...2...1...Big Smile!

You release him from your grip, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. Wonwoo's arms hold you in place but loosen ever so slightly. Foreheads resting on each other you just take a minute to take it in. You let your eyes open and meet his, you feel his glasses fall on between you two.

"Sorry." You say as you back away, allowing his glasses to drop back down fully.

The silence is deafening. Outside you can hear as the rest of the group giggles and chatters on, oblivious to what's just happened. You wipe your mouth as you feel a slickness on your lips, your combined spit coating you both.

You're a lot more aware now. The kiss sobering you enough to maybe be able to remember this in the morning but you weren't confident in that thought.

While you're getting that realization Wonwoo's taken the liberty of doing the finishing steps on the photos. Printing 2 copies for each of you and inserting his own email when it asks him if he wants a video of the photo-taking process. Thankfully you weren't looking when he did that, hopefully, he can show you the video at a better time and you can reminisce on your first kiss.

You startle him as you stand up. A solemn look on your face at the thought of all of this being gone by tomorrow. You really wish you didn't drink tonight. That Wonwoo hadn't sat in front of you. That he hadn't stared at you with those eyes, the ones that made you so nervous that you had to chug drink after drink to just get a modicum of confidence. You wish that what happened in the booth had happened not because you were drunk but because you were ready.

He sees the look and wants to say something... anything if it'll make you feel better. He knows all too well that that look meant that you were regretting things.

You reach out to him, cupping his face in one of your hands and swiping at his cheek with your thumb before he can say anything. Biting your lip you look at him, the feelings are all too overwhelming right now.

"Hey Wonwoo, if you remember this in the morning... remind me of it so we can do it when we're sober sometime, yeah?"

With a slight nod, he leaned into your hand and gave a lingering kiss to your palm before watching you open the curtain and walk away. His eyes stayed glued on you through the window of the shop until the moment your taxi came. A hollow feeling overcoming him as the drunkenness sets in again, although he couldn't quite decipher if this down came from the drinks or from the pure ecstasy you gave and so quickly took away, maybe both.

He walked out of the shop, a group of high-schoolers giggling in merriment as they picked out their accessories and got into their booths. The thought of wherever his friends were was purely background noise at this point.

Getting out and into the cold air he stood with his back against the glass, clutching the photo strips in one hand and his phone in the other, he set an alarm.

"Remind y/n".

A/N: I really really fucking like this one guys, smiling throughout the whole writing process. Also lovelies, for those of you reading Perfection pls know that the upcoming chapter has been delayed till next Saturday! Please reblog and comment your thoughts and as always my asks are open to any and all thoughts!

SVT Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[nnight-dances]

FOR LOVERS WHO HESITATE.

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. xu minghao)

GENRE: fluff, some angst

TROPES: best friends to lovers, reader is oblivious and an idiot sometimes, kinda he fell first and she fell harder, reader is a moa lol and also a hopeless romantic, wonwoo is in photography school and a youtuber.

it's raining cats and dogs when you step out of the shower and the burst of thunder that follows has you thanking that your commute from work to home hadn't seen any such rain. it's a big night for you, after all, you can't have anything spoiling it. it's txt's comeback night and for once, your schedule's freed up in time for you to be able to enjoy the coming weekend with some brand new music from your favorite kpop group. what's more is you had a date on saturday and where usually you would be shaking with nervousness, you actually quite liked this guy. his name was minghao, and he made you feel a calmness with him that you had yet to feel with another man on any dating apps. maybe there was hope after all…

you apply your prized lavender-scented body lotion as you re-listen to some old albums that have been close to your heart and hum along happily. you're about to turn the kettle on for some tea when you hear the doorbell ring. with a sigh, you glance at the time. there were only a handful of people who'd drop by your place at 9 on a friday. 

"wonwoo," you murmur when you start to vagule recall texts from him about coming over for ramen and ice cream. you pad over and open the door to the tall man peering at you through his glasses, "you didn't read my texts again, did you?" 

you gasp in feigned offense, "wow, you're really just gonna assume i didn't? of course i did! and that's why i knew it was you barging into my house this late at night."

"late?" wonwoo questions your wording as he lets himself in and then pauses when he catches sight of the elaborate set-up in your living room. the tiny projector you had bought ages ago and long-forgotten about is now out and function, displaying your laptop screen on the white wall, open on txt's youtube channel. 

"ohhh," he slowly turns around in realization, "are they coming out tonight?"

"coming back, yes," you call out from the kitchen, turning the kettle on like you'd planned, "i'm making some tea, you want any?"

"no, but i'll have the ramen you promised me." 

you narrow your eyes at him, "you do realize you promised yourself ramen, right?" 

"come on, y/n!" wonwoo starts whining, "you never hang with me anymore! it's always just work, home, txt, hinge boyfriend, work, work with you. what about jeon wonwoo time? what about best friend bonding hours?"

you can't help the chuckle that escapes you, watching the tall man slumped against your light blue fridge with a pout on his lips. he pushes his glasses back with sleeve of his black hoodie to stare you down. 

"...i hear you, sir," you start, "but to be fair, we did hang earlier this week when i took you out to lunch for getting a million subscribers on your youtube channel." 

"that doesn't count!" he complains, "that was like, duty-based hangout."

"right," you laugh, "listen, woo, i do wanna hang but you did see my plans for the night in the living room. so i mean, if you wanna grab some ramen and watch five men being silly before their new music drops… you're more than welcome." 

this time wonwoo's quiet, mouth moving undecidedly as he weighs his options. then, he shrugs, realizing he wasn't going to change your plans for the night. "eh, sure. it's not like it's my first time anyway." 

"cool! we have a plan!" you clap, "glad we came to an understanding." 

wonwoo laughs as he watches you take out to packets of ramen and start preparing the soup for them. now that he knows he gets to spend time with you, he relaxes, taking in the light blue pyjama set you have on. it matches the scrunchie in your hand and the hairclips that hold your bangs back in place. he notices how in the silence you naturally start humming a song under your breath, the melody vaguely familiar to wonwoo from the time he's spent listening to txt with you. 

truth be told, wonwoo really needed this tonight. he's had a long week of juggling classes and content creation, now that he had the new burden of pleasing a million people who had put their trust in him to speedrun and try out the newest video games. he's also had to meet up with friends, old and new, who reached out to him thanks to his new milestone. while he was always so grateful for the support, at the end of the day, he was an introvert and it was only in solitude he could gain back the energy he'd spent. 

except of course, solitude came back when it was with you, nevermind the real definition of the word. easy to say, over the years of your friendship with wonwoo, he'd become used to finding comfort in your warmth, though it changed with time. when you were both in college, it meant studying together and holding each other through the hard times. when you graduated and went on to get a job at a publishing company you'd always admired, wonwoo continued school to get a masters in photography like he'd always dreamed. now, comfort meant escaping his dorm room to drop by your place so he could bother you. 

sometimes, he hesitated, worried that he might actually be bothering you. you were an actual working adult, after all. but then, he'd find you sending him stupid memes in the middle of the night on a working night and he'd change his mind, knowing he couldn't go another week without seeing your face. 

"hello? you're just gonna stand there and watch me do all the work?" 

your stern voice breaks wonwoo out from his daydreaming and focus on the two steaming bowls of ramen that have appeared on the kitchen counter. "oh, sorry," he says, "just zoned out."

"not that you would've been much help with your hands of disaster."

"hey," wonwoo calls, "that's unfair, i'm a perfectly competent cook."

you raise a brow at him, "really, woo? would you say a perfectly competent cook would cut his thumb on a potato peeler? or, what was it the other time, would he spill boiling hot soup all over himself?"

wonwoo purses his lips. "whatever. i can just wash dishes if you're gonna be so mean about my cooking skills."

"sorry, woo, but there are no skills to be mean about," you murmur as you top the ramen with some fried egg. "anyway, here, take these and i'll bring us drinks. beer good with you?"

"you know it, sir," he confirms as he carries out your orders, balancing the bowls in each hand and making his way to the living room. he takes a seat on the couch, when something on the screen catches his attention. though your youtube screen is crowded with suggestions related to txt on different variety shows, there's a video in the corner that shows wonwoo's face. he recognizes it as one of his newer videos this week, one he made to thank his followers for their overwhelming support. he's honestly surprised to the red bar under the video indicate that you'd already watched the whole video. he didn't think you'd have the time to watch an hour long video.

he can't help the satisfied smile that creeps up his face, feeling a new level of accomplished knowing you were so up to date with his content.

"you're really just gonna grin like that to yourself?" your voice calls out, "i'm scared, should i keep a weapon close?"

wonwoo shrugs, "i don't know, would you really have the guts to kill your favorite youtuber?" 

you're caught off-guard and when you see wonwoo's video on the screen, you redden, averting your gaze as you place two cans of beers on the table. "so much for supporting my best friend," you mumble, adorable pout on your lips as you break open your chopsticks, stirring the hot ramen around. 

wonwoo keeps his smug excitement over the fact that you didn't deny his claim to your favorite youtuber and simply joins you in cooling his noodles. "anyway, i thought that txt was releasing new music? why would that include them being silly?"

"the countdown live, obviously," you inform him before slurping some ramen.

"ahh, right, i forgot those were a thing. when does the live start?"

you turn your laptop to yourself and scroll till you find the link to the countdown live, "hmm, let's see. it says here that there's 33 minutes." 

"wanna watch an episode of demon slayer while we wait?" wonwoo asks gingerly, ready to be rejected immediately. but you seem distracted by your phone, your quick typing indicating you were texting someone. "hm? texting a new guy?" he asks, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. 

you hum out a yes and after a minute, you put your phone down, smile on your lips. "you must really like him if you're texting him back that fast," he comments.

you look at him with a chuckle, "i met him last week on hinge. woo, he's stunning and genuinely nice. how rare is that combination?" you sigh, "i honestly still think he's a little too good to be true but i guess i'll find out tomorrow."

"tomorrow?" he asks, "where's he taking you out?"

you cough, "we're going to a museum and then to lunch at an italian place."

"damn," wonwoo mutters, "he's rich then, i presume?"

you hit wonwoo's arm, "what's your next question? how much does he make a year? his criminal history?"

"i mean, does he have one?"

"wonwoo," you warn him, "he's a perfectly nice guy. or so i hope. anyway, wanna watch this episode of txt's show? it'll warm you up for the live." 

wonwoo quietly nods as you click on the recommended video. he takes a deep breath to settle the storm in his stomach and sips his ramen soup to clear his head. he was here to spend time with you, not fight with you over questionable dates you found on hinge. 

"that one's soobin, right? he's my favorite," wonwoo smiles when the guy's dimples deepen with a joke another member cracked. 

"i thought you liked beomgyu!" you laugh, "you're a really unfaithful one, aren't you?"

he shrugs, "i don't know what you're talking about, i've always been biased toward soobin." 

"you didn't even know his name till five minutes ago, but sure, woo, if you insist."

the episode ends with both of you weak with laughter, partly because of the goofy nature of the games txt was playing but mostly because throughout, one of you would make a remark that would get the other laughing and build from there. it really was a never-ending battle with laughter when wonwoo was around. 

"oh, i must know what happens next! i know soobin's gonna win this thing," wonwoo says. 

"ahh, as much as i want to watch the second episode, we should tune into the live or we're gonna be late," you tell him. "we can watch the second one some other time?"

"it's a date," wonwoo teases back before he can stop himself from filtering his thoughts. but it's too late, you've turned to him with a look of scrutiny, wondering if he was joking or not. 

"right, okay, here it is," you pull up the live, which has been on for about five minutes. soobin is in the middle of talking about the album when you tune in. "ohh, look, your favorite boy's talking about the album."

"i see that," wonwoo smiles, "where's your favorite guy at?"

"hmm, wait… ah, there he is, yeonjun with his new haircut," you gasp, "god, black hair suits him so well." wonwoo narrows his eyes at the black-haired guy you've pointed out. you're right, he looks amazing, though he can't tell if it's the hair or just his general abundance of beauty. 

the rest of the countdown live goes not unlike before, with you helpfully supplying wonwoo with any context he might missing behind the member's comments. at exactly midnight, wonwoo watches their new music video with you, laughing when at its end you immediately click the replay button. after its third re-watch, you switch to spotify and listen to the entire album once before nodding in satisfaction.

"that's a solid album," wonwoo comments, smiling at your half-contained excitement. "it's everything i need to get through life till their next comeback," you say, "the title track's my favorite for the first time. although that might change as i relisten to the album."

"the title's the catchiest so that's probably right," he says. wonwoo's about to say some more about the album when he catches the look in your eyes. "what's wrong?"

"sorry, i feel bad for making you sit through that for like, three hours."

wonwoo's heart melts a little when he catches you fiddling with the hem of your pyjama top. he lets out a lighthearted chuckle, "you didn't force me. i had fun, y/n."

you smile, "i had fun, too. i always do with you." wonwoo's heart skips a beat at your admission, his cheeks warming up, "oh, right, i should show you the new speaker i bought the other day." you stand up and run over to your room excitedly. 

a few minutes pass and wonwoo sighs, hand at his chest, trying to calm himself down. he rests his head against his arm, slumping against the sofa, as his mind races. this won't do, he thinks, closing his eyes to shut out his bothersome thoughts. 

perhaps, he calms down a little fast because when you return with the speaker clutched in your hand, you find him dozing off on the couch. you smile at the sight, plopping down next to him. "always falling asleep anywhere, aren't you?" you mumble under your breath, eyes drawn to the portrait of serenity that wonwoo was. you watch him breathe steadily for a while before you rest your head against his arm, inexplicably drawn to the sight before you. 

you felt… weird, almost itchy, when you're this close to wonwoo. his eyelashes were longer than you expected at this distance and you have to contain the desire to brush your knuckles against them. you wonder what he must be thinking, to appear to be so at peace. you let out a hum unknowingly and wonwoo stirs. 

he comes to with a start, feeling a weight on his arm that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. and then he opens his eyes, almost convinced he's still dreaming when he finds your head against his hand, blinking solemnly as if you had been watching him sleep.

wait… hadn't you actually been watching him sleep? wonwoo starts to wonder but you cut him off when you whine, "you dozed off, jeon wonwoo." 

"sorry, i didn't mean to," he mutters, unusually shy. 

"well, it's fine. it's getting late," you say. then, after a moment, "do you just want sleep over? it's kind of a trek to your dorm from here."

wonwoo hesitates, blood rushing to his face at the idea of sleeping over at your place. "no, it's fine, i'll just go back."

"no, i would feel too bad letting you do that," you insist with a pout, "plus, it's saturday tomorrow so you don't have to worry about rushing back to class or anything."

he pauses. you were right, it was a pretty reasonable proposition once he thought about it with straight mind. "then, i will," he agrees, "but where do i sleep?" the question comes from the knowledge that you did only own one bed, the one that was in your bedroom. never mind that it was big enough to fit you both, the fact that it was in your bedroom made it off-limits in wonwoo's mind. 

"my bed?" you ask.

wonwoo sits up, "absolutely not."

"damn," you mumble, but don't think much of it, "i guess you'll have to take the couch then?"

"that works for me."

you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to push him to sleep in your bed if he really was that strongly against it but you can't help but pry a little more. "you sure you don't prefer a soft mattress with proper pillows?"

"you forget that i can fall asleep anywhere at any given moment with minimal trouble," he shrugs. "but i will ask of you to lend me one of your plushies."

you chuckle at that, "alright then, if you insist. i'll bring you a blanket and a plushie." when you leave to accomplish said missions, wonwoo takes a second to marvel and… well, panic at his situation. 

he'd only ever slept over at your place once and that was when he passed out from drinking too much soju. that didn't really count, especially since that time hoshi and karina had also passed out next to him on your floor. so this really felt like a big deal to wonwoo. 

you come back with a pile of a soft pink blanket and a matching pink bunny in your arms, dropping them next to wonwoo on the couch. "there," you say, "you want tea before you sleep?"

"nope."

"anything else? water?"

"oh, is there a toothbrush i can borrow?"

"ah, right. i should have some spare ones lying around. come, i'll show you."

it's nearly 2 am by the time wonwoo's in bed (couch), changed into some oversized shorts you had and sporting the same skincare that you used every night. it's all a little much for his poor heart, doing these domestic things with you as if he hasn't been down bad for you since he can remember. 

"okay~ goodnight, woo, sleep tight!" you call out. you pat his cheek, crouching next to the couch as you watch him settle down for the night. he mumbles back a goodnight somewhat quietly and you can't help but laugh to yourself at how adorable wonwoo looked.

"tell me if you need anything, okay?"

you stand up, ready to head to bed yourself and really, wonwoo should be thankful he can be alone at last, perhaps, collect his thoughts and rest his brain for the day. but being up so late must be getting to his reason because he reaches out to hold your wrist when you're about to leave, with a hurried, "wait!"

you stop with a raised brow, "what's wrong?"

"my goodnight kiss!" he blurts out with a sudden rush of courage. "i need one to fall asleep."

silence follows his words and wonwoo's ear slowly start to burn up when he hears the echoes of his absurd request playing back in his mind. he lets go of your wrist just as quickly he'd reached for it, covering up with a half-laugh, "i was just kidding. good night!" 

a beat passes and he thinks you must really find him ridiculous to not respond to anything he's said but before he can dig himself any further into the hole he's made, he feels your hair brush against his skin. he barely has time to register your body leaning over him when he feels you lips press against his cheek. the moment should last forever but it's over all too quick. wonwoo can't see your face in the darkness but he hears your voice near his ear, breath soft, "good night, woo."

he could die now, he really could, and he would die a happy man. he muffles the sound that escapes his throat when he hears the door to your room creak as you close it behind you. you, on the other hand, stare at yourself in the mirror in disbelief at what just happened. 

you really didn't know what to make of wonwoo's request out of the blue, but something about the way he looked so cozy, hair sticking out every which way in the moonlight that spilled into your living room, something about this night in general had you feeling strange. you felt the same itch you'd felt when you found yourself unable to take your eyes off a sleeping wonwoo. it's like when you encounter a beautiful cat lounging in the sun and had to drop everything so you could take in its joyful existence. you couldn't move an inch, completely fascinated by this being before you.

"what the fuck am i thinking…" you mumble, feeling your cheeks warm up. "i must be really tired." 

turns out even after a night's sleep you feel as confused as you did when you fell asleep. with a grunt of frustration, you roll over in bed and choose to scroll on your phone to distract yourself for a bit. it's almost 11 when you hear a knock on your door. you contemplate pretending to be asleep but then there's another knock, followed by wonwoo's, "y/n?"

you feel too bad leaving wonwoo to fend for himself in your home so you force yourself out of bed, patting your hair down as you pad over to the door. "hey, morning–" 

your greeting is interrupted mid-way when wonwoo's face moves close to you – hilariously close until he's kissing your cheek. your breath catches in your throat and you freeze up. wonwoo stands back up, arms on the doorway, a small smirk on his face. what had possesed him overnight? 

you could only ponder in defeat when he merrily called out, "good morning! did you sleep well?" 

"i… did…" you start and then stop, hand coming up to the cheek where wonwoo had kissed you. "what was that for…" you wonder more to yourself but wonwoo picks up your flustered question and shrugs.

"i was only paying you back for your goodnight kiss," he smiles, unsettling you to your very guts, "that was your good morning kiss."

you groan, suddenly losing all clarity. frustrated, hiding the blush creeping up your neck, "you know that's not a real thing…" but where you mean to sound harsh, you simply sound bewildered. wonwoo swallows his chuckle and pats your head, "i'm hungry. can you make me breakfast?"

you glare at him, trying to figure out what his real plan was but he simply follows up with, "pretty please? you wouldn't let a guest in your home leave on an empty stomach, right?"

"i- uh, let me wash my face and i'll make you something," you say, pausing for a split second befroe shutting the door in wonwoo's face. you speedrun your morning routine despite your very best efforts to act and thus, feel normal, you wash your face and brush at your teeth at an abnormal speed. you stare at yourself in the mirror when you consider changing out of your pjyamas and mentally scold yourself for acting like an idiot.

"stupid," you tell yourself as you leave your room to find wonwoo cackling at his phone screen. no matter how you look at it, wonwoo's acting different… he seems more confident, or rather, full of conviction, though you couldn't think of any reason why that would be. 

etiher way, in an attempt to act normal, you start making eggs for breakfast, scrambled and slightly runny the way you know wonwoo likes them. "toast?" you ask him as you whip the eggs onto a plate. "yes,," he calls out, "with some butter, please!"

you sigh as you place a slice of toast on his plate, sliding it toward him. you plop the stick of butter next to him with a knife and tell him with a sarcastic smile, "you can butter your own toast." 

"i sure can," he says with a satisfied smile. you really can't understand what he was thinking and it pisses you off, but not nearly enough to sit next to him as you dig into your own plate of eggs.

"as thanks for feeding me two meals in a row," wonwoo starts, swallowing a mouthful of food, "can i do anything for you? buy you a new pan? go grocery shopping with you?"

"i'm good, thanks."

he frowns at your curt reply. "ohh, how about a movie? it could make for a solid saturday night."

"sorry, i've a date tonight, remember?"

"ah, that," he says, flatly, "i mean, if you have time later right?"

"i'm pretty sure i'm gonna be beat by the time i'm done with the date. maybe tomorrow," you say but you know he can tell you're only half-heartedly saying so. he gives up after, thankfully for you. 

"all right, i should get going! as it turns out i forgot my clothes in the dryer for two days straight and someone threw them onto the floor…" you let out a horrified gasp at wonwoo's casual confession, "so i should probably deal with that."

"dude, please, why aren't you running back to your dorm right now?" 

"alright, alright, i get it! see you later, y/n!"

with that, the man's off, seeming somewhat appropriately concerned for his clothes now. you sigh once you hear the door close after him, resting your forhead on your fist. your head hurts and it's not even noon. you're mostly just having a hard time comprehending the last 12 hours you spent with wonwoo. 

it's not out of the ordinary for you to do impromptu things with him like this but you feel strangely empty now that he's gone. what's worse is your mind keeps replaying this morning when he kissed your cheek like a broken record. it makes you feel like a pervert, thinking about the kiss as if it wasn't wonwoo, your best friend for life. plus, there's that itchy feeling that won't let up every time you think about him. "man, this sucks," you groan out, opening your phone, "and i still have to get ready for that date." 

in an efffort to clear out the weariness you feel, you hop into the shower and take extra long in there, singing along to the new txt album and letting your worries wash away with the new vanilla scented body wash you'd bought earliere that week. without a doubt, you feel much better after, patting your damp skin down with some skincare.

that's when you're suddenly reminded of how last night wonwoo had crouched next to you, ridiculously focused on applying the products you handed him all over his face. he looked adorable, straining to get every pore covered as his fingers ran over his face. he had to squint of course since you'd told him you wouldn't stand him getting your precious skincare all over his glasses. after he was done, he'd elbowed you lightly, "how do i look?" 

"so clean and healthy, my princess," you joked as you patted him on the head. the proud look on his face made you swoon a little–

what the actual fuck. "fuck," you curse out loud when you realize you'd lost your newly regained sanity to the walk down last night's memory lane. "what the fuck," you repeat under your breath as you through your last steps in a hurry. you feel yourself spiralling again when a ping on your phone saves you. 

it's minghao.

minghao: afternoon, y/n! hope u slept well last night :)

minghao: just wanted to tell you i might be a little late cuz i forgot i had to run an errand for my mom! sorry

you melt a little at how sincere he is in informing you of every little change in your plans and can't help but feel a little guilty for viewing the date as a burden. that's right, you owed it to minghao to respect the date and approach it with an open mind. confusing feelings for your best friend for another day. 

you: hey!! thx for telling me but don't worry about it 

you: i'll text you when i get there so you know where to find me 

minghao: that would be great yay

minghao: can't wait to see you 

you: me either :) 

— 

minghao is amazing, exactly as you expected him to be. he shows up at the exact ETA he'd texted you earlier and not without a whole rose in his hand. when you turn impossibly red and shake his kindness away with a, "...but i didn't get you anything," he smiles and tells you to take it, "it's an apology for me being late to our first date." 

you inwardly lose it over his emphasis on first date and calm yourself down, accepting the rose with a thankful smile. you had to keep it together if you want there to be another date, for real. he's incredibly sweet the whole time, walking through the museum at a comfortable pace – enough that you'd be able to admire the piece but not too long that you ended up staring into nothing. 

after over an hour of perusing the museum's collection, your feet start to hurt a little, no thanks to the uncomfortable loafers you'd brought out for the special ocassion. it's like minghao senses your discomfort and offers to rest at the museum's in-house cafe and get some refreshments. "ahh, i'd love that," you mumble shyly, embarassed that he could see through you so well. 

over coffee, you try not to stare at minghao, noticing the few strangers who would pass by your table and do a double take at the man in front of you. he did catch the eye, what with his blonde hair which sat just right by the nape of his neck. you couldn't think of the last time you'd seen someone pull off a mullet so well.

"sorry if i'm a little out of it today," minghao starts with a small smile, "i slept much later than i usually do because my friend came over without notice."

"wait, you won't believe it but something really similar happened to me last night too," you say with a grin. "what did your friend want?" 

"really?" he asks with a similar smile. "also, well, he's not really a friend, more like a former roommate who can't get over the fact that i got a job and now have my own place. he likes to cope by barging in and having meals with me or watching a movie."

"wow, it's insane how similar your story is… my friend's still in college so he likes to also barge in and eat my food that i cook and watch stuff with me."

the two of you share a laugh, thrilled at the newfound similarity. "that's cool, we're like each other in a lot of ways, huh?"

"yeah, that's pretty cool," you agree. this is bad. you can't stop smiling. was minghao always this charming?

not that you would know, you remind yourself, laughing at his blunt sense of humour all throughout lunch, barely focused on the taste of the pasta minghao had ordered. you feel unlike yourself. like you're floating and all you could feel was minghao's magnetic charm, keeping you focused on him and him alone. or maybe that was the wine talking. 

that's how you end up at your place, kissing his face, before you can comprehend the situation. "fuck," you breathe between kisses, "i don't usually kiss on the first date." 

minghao pulls away with a small grin, "i don't either." with that, he kisses you again. and again. eventually, you make it to the couch, each somewhat recovering in their own way. now that you're back to your senses a little, you're more than glad things didn't go any further with minghao. it really was only the first date. you would hate to regret any of it later. 

"oh, i'm so rude, i didn't even offer you a drink or anything," you stand up, embarassed, "can i get you something? water? tea? coffee? um, i also have beer but i don't know if that's to your taste." 

minghao chuckles, "you don't have to worry, y/n. i'm good as it is."

"no, that won't do. we've been here for like 20 minutes and i haven't even gotten you water," you say, walking over to the kitchen.

"to be fair," you hear minghao say smugly, "we were kinda occupied for a hot second."

"...right," you mumble, reddening a little, "well, i'm gonna get you something whether you want it or not, so what will it be?" 

"some tea would be great," he admits finally. "nice, two teas coming up in five," you call out. you spend another 30 minutes just talking to minghao over tea, when you hear a knock at your door. you frown. 

you try to excuse yourself but minghao gets a phone call at that very second so you silently gesture to the door and he nods in understanding. you open the door and almost close it right back when you see wonwoo on the other side. he's grinning, all merry as if he didn't just interrupt your date. 

"wonwoo?" you question, "can i help you?"

"wow, that's cold," he says. "am i interrupting something?"

"actually, yes. remember the date i had today?"

"i thought that was just some boring stuff like museum and italian food?? now, he's followed you home??" 

you shush wonwoo urgently, thankful that minghao was still on the phone and couldn't hear his rude comments. "wonwoo, i'm busy. i'll hang tomorrow–"

"no, i wanna say hi to your date," wonwoo declares, pushing by you and into the living room where minghao talking on the phone. "rude, bro's on the phone in the middle of a date."

before you can ridicule wonwoo's stupid reasoning, minghao turns around, apparently done with his call and raises a brow when he spots the new figure next to you. you grimace apologetically, "sorry, minghao, this is the friend i was telling you about earlier. i tried to stop him but he wanted to say hi–"

"you've been badmouthing me behind my back?" wonwoo interrupts you with an unimpressed look, shaking his head. "whatever she's told you about me, i'm sorry. i'm wonwoo, nice to meet you."

minghao stands up and strides over to shake wonwoo's hand like the nice guy he is and introduces himself. "nice to meet you, too. i'm minghao." 

"i just came by because we had plans tonight," he says, with a side glance at your perplexed face, "but i guess i must've gotten the time wrong or something."

"oh, no, no, you're probably right. i've been here longer than planned," wonwoo doesn't miss the small smile minghao throws at you. "but i should head out, too. i also have some guests coming over later tonight."

you look deflated at how things are going, "are you sure?" minghao nods as he gathers his things – things such as a brown leather jacket that looked more expensive than any item of clothing wonwoo owned – and heads for the door. you follow him like a lost puppy. 

when you reach the door, out of wonwoo's earshot, you apologize to wonwoo again and he brushes your sorrys off, "don't worry about it. i'm the one who should be sorry for taking off like this. i would've liked to spend time with your friend."

"i don't know how that would've gone down," you say uneasily, "but thank you for today. really. it was great."

"i'm glad to hear that," minghao says with a grin. he reaches close and hugs you, a warmth radiating between you when he pulls away. "thank you for letting me take you out. i hope we can do it again some time." with that he places a kiss on your cheek and takes his leave. 

once he's gone, you go back inside and sigh, a mix of feelings in your chest. on the one hand, you feel uneasy now that your date with minghao is over, doubtful of whether he really meant his words about wanting to go on another date with you. your past experience had taught you can never tell with men, even if they told you they loved spending time with you with the sweetest smile on their lips. 

on the other hand, you were now alone with wonwoo, which was a whole another problem on its own. a problem you didn't feel equipped to handle right now. not when you still hadn't sorted your feelings about him out. whatever it was, it wasn't easy and it sure as hell didn't become any easier when wonwoo was staring you down, intently. 

"...wonwoo," you start, voice low, "i'm really sorry but i don't have the energy for this right now. i just want to head to bed now."

wonwoo doesn't hide the look of hurt on his face. "what? it's like six right now."

"yeah, but i've had a long day and–"

"is this because i interrupted your date with minghao?"

you feel an rush of annoyance rush to your head but reign it for the sake of your friendship. "it's not about anything other than the fact that i'm tired."

"you seemed perfectly energetic when minghao was here. why'd you invite him over anyway? i thought you kept it chill on the first date." 

"well, have you considered that i just genuinely liked him enough to bring him over? more importantly, i don't see how any of this is your business, wonwoo."

"of course it is! i care about you–"

"if you care about me, maybe don't cut my date short next time!" 

the silence is resounding, following your silence and you hate yourself when you see the grave look on wonwoo's face. he was being for real right now. but you really can't bring yourself to understand him.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i just don't know what you want from me, okay? i thought you would support me when i'm finally have some luck finding a boyfriend–"

"what i don't understand is why you want to find a boyfriend so bad. i think you're happy enough as it is and you only seem to become upset over men. why invite heartbreak into your life–"

"because i'm a romantic, wonwoo. i just want to fall in love!" you tell him, "i got degree my parents wanted, settled for a job that makes me enough money and maybe a little happy sometimes, but the one thing i want to do for myself is find someone i can love. i want to experience love, at least once in my life. is that really so bad?"

wonwoo scoffs much to your utter disbelief, "some romantic you are…"

"what the fuck did you just say?" 

you see him visibly inhale deeply and sigh. "y/n, i don't have a problem with you finding love." 

"really? because it sure looks like you do? i know you don't really care about love but–"

"why would you think that?" 

"well, have you ever been in love?" you ask him incredulously. 

"of course i have!" he cries out, "i'm in love with you, y/n." 

"you wouldn't–" you start when he says he's been in love and then stumble over your words when you hear his next words. you stop short with your mouth hanging open, "you're– wait, what?"

over the recent years, wonwoo had thought about whether his feelings really needed to be said out loud at this point – he felt like he was crazy obvious. but looking at the shocked look on your face right now, it was clear that if you would never have figured out his feelings without him telling you. which is fair, he can't expect you read people's minds but what really got his heart in a twist was the fact that you hadn't even remotely considered him liking you, which meant you were far from liking him back. 

though this a fact he's gotten used to, he feels the sting stronger than usual, maybe because the last day has him confused. to be honest, when you'd kissed him without a warning, it got to his head. thought maybe he had a chance after all. it was that high he'd been riding the whole time; that morning when he shamelessly kissed your cheek, this evening when he invited himself into your place when he knew you had a date over. 

but now he's positive he was delusional because all you have are platonic feelings for him at the end of the day.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i had absolutely no idea that–" you don't even know what to say, you cut yourself off, "i'm- i can't give you a clear answer right now. but if you give me some time, i promise i can."

"you don't have to answer me, y/n," wonwoo says with a bittersweet smile, "i know how you feel about me. but i had to tell you at least once before i gave up. i don't want you to feel burdened by my confession, just– why don't you forget about it?"

you blink at his words slowly, "but–"

"i should probably leave," he says, "i've long overstayed my welcome here." with that, he heads for the door, not heeding your requests for him to wait a second, "sorry for ruining your date by the way," he calls out as he leaves without another glance. 

– 

it takes you a whole day of overthinking your entire life – after all, that's how long you'd known wonwoo now – to come anywhere close to an answer. and really, it's not much. so far this is what you have: 

a week ago, you had never once considered wonwoo as more than a friend. maybe the best friend you'd ever have, perhaps a rare and special connection that you wouldn't have with another person. while the idea had come up, through other people doubting the purely platonic nature of your relationship, you had truly never entertained the thought. not because you had something against it, but because you were convinced a link like the one you had with wonwoo was only possible in a friendship. 

but then last night had happened, and something had possesed you to kiss him on the cheek – that something might've something to do with the itch in your body every time he was closer than normal, something to do with the way you'd been captivated by his sleeping form. 

and reflecting back, you were dumbfounded by how many times wonwoo had tried to hint at his feelings. a few years ago, when you'd gotten drunk with friends back in college, they'd dared wonwoo to kiss the person he liked and he'd politely declined, muttering that he couldn't kiss someone who was being pursued by someone else. as it turns out, and as you had been too stupid to realize, you had been the only one there in a talking stage with a guy you'd met at your part-time job. 

then, there was the way he always responded to you quickly, no matter what, ready to do things he was otherwise reluctant to do. always asking to spend time, always trying to stay close. there was also the eye-contact that he barely made with other friends, even other people – the way you'd look at him to find him already looking at you. 

"i'm an idiot," you tell yourself as you stare at wonwoo's contact on your phone, wanting to hear his voice but not when you still were so undecided. 

that's how it gets all the way to friday and you still haven't reached out to wonwoo. if you're daft reaction to his feelings hadn't closed the deal, your radio silence for the past week sure did. but unwilling to accept that truth, you call him, only a little surprised when he doesn't pick up. 

he must be mad, you think. but as much as that thought scares you, you can't stand giving up already. you end up making your way to his college campus, hoping he'd be in his room, even though it was 6 on a friday night. 

uncertainly, you knock on his door. and then louder a few more times when you don't hear a response. you're close to giving up and walking yourself home when you hear faint voices inside. "--sick of you making me open the door every time—" it's wonwoo's roommate, mingyu. he stands before you, in boxers and incredibly shirtless, and you think you should've at least texted wonwoo that you were coming over. 

but despite your apprehensions, mingyu doesn't seem embarassed, just amused. "oh? it's noona." 

you can't help but smile lightly at mingyu's use of the honorific, as if you weren't only a few months older than him. but him continuing the yearslong tradition reassured you, though you were sure he'd heard some foul things about you from wonwoo over the past few days. 

"hey, mingyu," you wave uncertainly, and try to get a look into the room past him with no avail, "sorry to show up like this, but is wonwoo around? i was trying to reach out to him but he didn't pick up." 

"ah, right, wonwoo…" mingyu says as if he didn't quite know who you were talking about. you can see the gears turning in his head, probably considering if he should tell you the truth or not. the choice is made for him when wonwoo's voice reaches you. he's screaming, "KIM MINGYU, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK RIGHT NOW— WE'RE FUCKING LOSING OUR LEAD BECAUSE OF–" 

you stifle a laugh at mingyu's guilty expression. "right, so he is here," you comment in what you hope is a neutral tone. "you think i can see him?" 

he pauses, looking unsure, "listen, i don't know the full details of what happened with you guys, but wonwoo's been really quiet the past week and i'm not sure if seeing you right now– if he's in the right state of mind…" 

"is that so…" you mumble disheartenedly, though this was a fact that you yourself had been grappling with. "i guess i should leave him alone, then." you're about to take your leave when an arm drapes itself over mingyu's bare shoulder, wonwoo's face poking into your view. 

you freeze up when you lock eyes with wonwoo's face, his smile visibly disappearing. "y/n? what're you doing here?" 

"i was just–" you rub your neck, looking away in an attempt to come up with a credible excuse, "i was just taking a walk around here and thought i'd drop by to say hi. but um, since you guys seem busy, i'll just find another time. anyway, good night!" 

with that, you take yourself out of their sight, rushing down the stairs to the room so fast that you almost trip over and die. thankfully though you've made it to the door that leads out without actually leaving a crime scene on the poor residents' hands. 

"y/n! wait!" 

you stop in your tracks when wonwoo's voice echoes in the stairwell and almost lose all feeling in your knees when you see him run after you, out of breath. "god, woman, since when have you been this fast?"

"sorry," you say quietly, though you're not sure why you're apologizing. 

"can we talk?" 

you look up at him in surprise, "...that should be my line."

"i know, gyu told me why you actually came by," wonwoo admits with a deep sigh, "that idiot, i can't believe he tried to shoo you away without even letting you in. sorry about him."

"no, he was just trying to protect your peace. i get it."

"really? in what world is keeping a guy from the girl of his dreams 'protecting his peace'?"

you gasp at wonwoo's blatant admission and swallow against the lump in your throat. wonwoo looks tired, you can tell from the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulder is set, and you feel guilty for adding to his exisiting stress. you owe it to him to give him a proper closure. 

"wonwoo, i'm so sorry i didn't reach out to talk this past week. i was just so in my head figuring things out and i kept losing the guts to face you. i truly can't express how much i treasure what we have, and honestly, i'm starting to doubt if it was always platonic. because somewhere along the way, i got so used to being around you, i didn't think about what it meant to be that close to someone.

"that being said, i still can't wrap my head around how i feel. i know it's not the clear answer i promised you, but if you give me a little bit more time, i will be able to think it through. but i understand if you wanna keep your distance with me while i do that. sorry." 

"why do you keep apologizing?" wonwoo asks you, brows set in confusion, "you're maybe the sweetest person ever to even think so hard about your feelings for me. and i understand if you need time, it's years' worth of feelings after all… but, there's one thing…" 

you perk up at the last part of his words, "yeah, what is it?"

"i don't think i can keep my distance from you," he says, eyes dropping to his feet for a few beats before meeting yours again, "i thought about it and honestly, the worst thing about the past week was that i couldn't just thoughtlessly intrude into your house and eat with you after a long day. maybe that's on me for having quality time as my love language, but god, y/n, i think i'd be a miserable man if i had to live without you."

"wonwoo, i…" 

"i'm warning you, if you say sorry one more time, i'm gonna do something bad. plus, i feel much lighter now that the cat's out of the bag. i can finally be the truest version of myself around you."

swallowing the millionth apology on your tongue, you say, "then let's not avoid each other. maybe spending time with you will help me understand how i feel–" you stop yourself mid-sentence when you hear what it sounds like, "wait, no, that sounds insensitive… what i meant was–"

"wait, no, you might actually be onto something," wonwoo says and you feel a chill run down your spine at the smirk that takes hold over his face. "perhaps i can find a way to make you sure about me? like, seduce you?"

"what? that's not what i was suggesting–" 

"i know but it's what i am suggesting!" he says, slowly closing in on you, hand coming to rest atop your head. "maybe i can finally let go and do the impulsive things i've wanted to do– don't worry, all within a limit, of course. think of it as the talking stage?" 

"the talking stage?" when he puts it like that, you can see some reason behind it. it wasn't serious enough to be a relationship but still served as a step up from your normal friendship with wonwoo. "i guess that wouldn't be not fine…"

"wouldn't be not fine…" wonwoo repeats your words under his breath, "so you're fine with it??" he sighs in relief, fingering coming to brush through your hair before they returned by his side. "alright then! glad we came to an understanding! now, i'm sorry i must excuse myself for i promised kim mingyu i'd be back at game night in no time." 

"oh yeah, you should definitely get back to game night," you say with a soft smile, but then catch him by the wrist as he turns around, "oh, wonwoo! thanks for letting me say my thing, by the way… and i'm sorry."

he sighs lowly at that, pulling you into a hug, "what did i say about apologizing again? now i have to do a bad thing or i'll be someone who doesn't keep his word." before you can protest, he pulls apart and leans in close to kiss your cheek. then he kisses your other cheek– and then, your forehead. you're turning beet red by the time he stops at your nose, laughing at your struck expression. "alright, now we're good. and i should be the one thanking you for taking my feelings seriously. i'll see you later, yeah? we should do something tomorrow since it's a saturday." 

"yeah," you agree and give him a slight push away, "okay, now go do your thing with mingyu or he's gonna hate me even more."

"he doesn't hate you, he's just–"

"don't wanna hear it! go play your games, gameboy!" 

"alright, miss, whatever you say."

– 

"watch it," wonwoo warns you, eyes fixed on your screen, "no, no, don't go that way, the turret's gonna hit you."

"i don't understand," you whine, "there's too many things on my screen." 

when you'd agreed to let wonwoo teach you how to play one of his favorite games, league of legends, you hadn't forseen the amount of stress would running in your veins. your head hurts and your vision is blurry. you've just started and you're only up against the easiest level of bots but every time you step outside the safety of your base, you seem to get immediately obliterated. 

"okay, y/n, here, let me show you," wonwoo shifts closer to you and if anything, it makes it harder to focus when you feel his shoulder come to rest against yours. at the same time, his warmth soothes you somewhat when he calmly instructs you where to go and how to attack the enemy. his tips help you drastically and in the next ten minutes, you've gotten to the enemy's turret, eventually scoring a kill.

"wonwoo! i got my first kill! did you see that?" you turn to him with a bright grin and find him sporting a similar grin, his hand coming to pat your head. "you did so well!" 

that's how you slowly make it through the first game, securing a victory, mostly thanks to wonwoo's overpowered skills, destroying his own lane and getting to the base in no time. "god, you're such a show-off," you mumble when you see the dramatic difference in KDAs on the final stat summary page. "i don't think i was built to be a gamer." 

"now why would you say that?"

"look at me, woo! i'm sweating my balls off and that was only against bots! i won't last a day in the real world," you complain with a pout, "plus my fingers aren't fast like yours. i take forever to cast my skill and by that time, it's too late."

"y/n, it took me like a week of playing to get my first kill against a bot," wonwoo tells with a grimace, "so the fact that you got through that with a decent KDA is incredible. and my fingers got because i played so much, i didn't get good in a day."

you sigh, resting your head on the couch, "hmm, you have a point."

"but we can call it day if you're tired," he says with a smile, coming back to rest his shoulder next to you and following your resting figure, "thanks for trying though."

"it was fun, but i'm gonna need a week before i can touch this game again."

you feel the laugh that leaves wonwoo in your own chest, the sound filling you with his joy, as if it were your own. without thinking about it, you shuffle closer to him, a soft sigh escaping you when you feel his bicep harden against your arm. 

"you good?" he asks you in a low voice when you stay unmoving for a while. you nod with your eyes still closed. "i'm doing great," you say, "just recharging." when wonwoo doesn't say anything in response, you take a peek at him to see him looking at you sideways, with a goofy smile. 

"mind telling me why you're looking at me like that?" 

"nothing, i just thought it was cute how you volunteered to play league for our date when you don't even know how to play."

you flush, "well, i figured i'd have you teaching me the ropes. and i've been wanting to play with you because you said it's one of your favorite games." 

"that's sweet of you, isn't it?" wonwoo says, unable to stop smiling. "you always treat me so well." 

"i do, for some reason. it's almost like i'm attached to my best friend or something."

you bite your tongue when you accidently let the words slip, tensing up as you start to correct yourself. "i didn't mean it like–" 

"y/n, don't worry about it," wonwoo shushes you with the same smile he's had this whole time. "i know what you meant. and i'm flattered." 

you sigh in relief as you drop your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your fingers, somewhat nervous for no real reason all of a sudden. maybe it's because you're conscious of wonwoo, afraid to slip up again and say something hurtful.

"you don't have to be so careful around me, you know?" he starts, "i've lived with this feelings for a while so it takes a lot for me to sway. and remember no matter what happens between us, i'm always gonna be your friend at the end of the day." 

"thank you for saying that," you say quietly, eyes still on your hands, feeling guilty. 

"hey, at least look at me if you want to show your gratitude."

"i can't. i'm…" you trail off, and then, "i'm sorry." 

"there it is again," wonwoo groans, "now you've done it. i'll have to punish you again for apologizing." his hand comes to rest atop your restless ones, slowly stopping your uneasy movements and intertwining his fingers with yours. and then steadily, he takes your hand close to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the knuckles. "the more you say sorry, the more i'm gonna have to work harder to make sure you fall in love with me, okay? and it's honestly pretty bad for my heart if i keep having to do things like this, so spare me."

bad for your heart? you question him in your head but don't voice iti, shaking your head at wonwoo's sly words. "you're insane," you murmur. 

"alright, that's more like it." 

– 

the following week, you see new sides of wonwoo because he takes it on himself to do all kinds things that are out of the blue for him. for one, he's been labelling every hang-out as a date, even when that day entailed perfectly normal activities you'd done a million times over with him. "it's an attempt to rewire your brain," he tells you with a foxy grin, "i'm making sure you don't forget to view me as a love interest."

speaking of love interests, he'd been straightforward with you that if you wanted to go out with minghao that would be fine. but you'd declined the possibility because you wouldn't know what to do with yourself around him now that you were immersed in the uncertainties of your relationship with wonwoo. and on thinking long and hard about the date with minghao, you'd gotten the feeling that you were interested in his looks more than anything. sure, he'd been so charming but it was wonwoo that was keeping you up at night. 

that's why you find a way to turn him down when he asks if you'd like to go on another date with him:

minghao: hey, y/n! there's a night market near where i live this weekend

minghao: i've never been able to go but i've heard it's super pretty

minghao: so i was wondering if you'd like to come with me? :) 

you: hey, minghao

you: i'm sorry, i don't think i can see you again

you: i really enjoyed our date but there's someone else i'm talking to atm

minghao: oh

minghao: i see

minghao: dw about it! it was nice to see you either way!minghao: but just out of curiosity, is this new person your friend from the other day?

you: huh??

minghao: you know the one who came to your place when i was over

you: …it is him

you: how'd u know

minghao: hehe i just got a vibe

minghao: he looked at you like you were lovers in another lifetime

you: girl what 

you: i mean that's so sweet but really?? didn't he just look at me like i was going to feed him for the night?

minghao: no way, when a guy looks at u like that… i don't know how else to say it but he'd love if you were a worm

you: interesting

you: thanks? idk

you: you're cool for a guy that just got rejected 

minghao: it's ok, i'm sure i can land another date in time for the night market ;)

you: of course you can 

you: goodnight minghao :)

minghao: night, y/n! maybe we'll meet as friends someday 

you: maybe…

"damn it, he's smooth…" wonwoo whines when you show him your screen the next day, only after you've made him promise you that he wouldn't jump to conclusions. "i don't think i can stand you being friends with him. like ever."

"wonwoo, i don't think that's gonna happen. but even if it did, i don't know, i think he'd make a great friend."

"oh he most definitely would. that's precisely the problem. i can't be outdone by another man like that," he says in a ridiculously grave tone, "he's too cool. i wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"you realize that the only reason i'm not going on that date with him is because i'd rather go on a date with you?" you poke wonwoo's arm with a soft smile.

the man hesitates, processing your words before a smile breaks out onto his face. "wait— i mean, of course i know i'm– wait, does that mean you–?"

"i'm in love with you, wonwoo. i think i've always been. i was just too much of an idiot to understand it."

wonwoo's imagined you saying something along these lines a lot but what he's been far more prepared for is you rejecting him. for the longest time, he's lived with the reality of you not reciprocating his feelings and that's honestly what became normal for him along the way. so when you look into his eyes, it's like you're looking into his soul and leaving him completely starstuck. all he can see is you before him for a solid few seconds before he truly comprehends you. 

"don't look so shocked! i thought this whole week was for this exact outcome!" you laugh at his speechlessness. 

"right," wonwoo swallows against his dry throat, suddenly shyer than he's ever been, "i'm just shocked. i didn't expect for it to actually work? i don't know, are you sure you love me? it's not just as a friend? like, i'd understand if it's just because we've known each for the longest time and seen each other through hard times."

"wonwoo…" you exhale, "are you rejecting my feelings right now?"

"no! of course not!"

"then why are you doubting me? i know how i feel about you. that's the whole reason why i took so long to give you an answer."

"i know," his gaze drops to the floor, head reeling a little. this is what he's wanted deep down for the longest time so he can't help but feel like he's dreaming right now. 

when you hear the doubt in his voice, you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look back at you. "wonwoo," you shake him, "i love you." you peck him on the nose. "i want you to be my boyfriend, if you'll have me."

"of fucking course," wonwoo seems to return to his senses when you press your lips against his skin. cheeks red and eyes wide, his hands find your body, fingers already by your jaw, pulling you closer. "i love you so much, i think it'll kill me one day. but for now i think being your boyfriend will do." 

you giggle at his dramatic statement and close the distance between you, feeling the warm of his breath like never before. he kisses you back immediately, letting out a low groan at the action, the hand at your waist, squeezing you lovingly. 

"can't believe i waited so long to do that," he says when the two of you pull back. 

you kiss his cheek with a soft mewl, "you're so warm, woo." 

"am i?" he wonders, arms moving on their own as they bring you closer to his chest. he kisses your forehead, "now we can both be warm." 

— 

"okay, okay, i'm ready to leave," you call out victoriously as you step out into the living room. wonwoo looks up from the projector screen where he's currently rewatching a run-through of a new game was gonna try out for his channel. but he immediately loses the smart comment he was gonna throw out there when he sees you, all dolled up and showing off the dress you're wearing with a smug smile.

it's a simple blue dress with a modest neck and long skirt that hugged your hips perfectly. and it also happened to be the dress wonwoo's birthday gift to you last year. you'd worn it out with him before but this is definitely the first time you'd taken it out on a proper date. and how appropriate for it to be a date with wonwoo himself. 

"you like?" you ask him as you walk closer to him, running a hand through his hair. 

"i love," he replies instantly, arm coming to your lower back, "you look heavenly. god, do we have to go out? i don't mind just staying here and watching you in this dress."

"no," you decline his ridiculous request firmly, "i've been wanting to visit this bookstore for the past year. so i'm sorry, love, but you'll have to do with watching me read if you really want to be creepy."

"it's not creepy if i'm your boyfriend, is it now?"

"...maybe."

"alright, i think i'm good to go then! let's go!" 

at the bookstore, you genuinely have to shake wonwoo off your back and force him to find a book he likes before you leave. he complains and whines about how he just wants to enjoy his girlfriend's taste in books but when he does finally wander off, you find him engrossed in a book he found in the science-fiction section.

you sneak up onto him with a grin, "enjoying yourself?"

he looks up, "...surprisingly. but only because i got kicked out…"

"you wanna get that?" you ask him, taking a glance at the book cover. "just drop in here," you show him your basket that already has a couple of your picks in it.

"you're buying?"

"mhm, think of it as a token of our first real date?"

wonwoo smiles, eyes bright, "alright then. thanks." 

after that, the two of you walk over to the restaurant wonwoo had had reservations at. it was also a fairly new place but had gotten popular for being a couples' hot spot. and wonwoo understands why when the waiter shows you to your table for the night– it's secluded by a corner on the porch, with nothing but a candle illuminating the surroundings. 

"ah, we can also move the table so that both chairs are next to each other?" the waiter says with a polite smile, "would you like that?"

"yes, please!" wonwoo calls out enthusiastically and you squeeze his hand with a chuckle as the waiter nods and shifts for the rearrangement. 

"this is perfect," he says when you sit next to him. "this way, i can still hold your hand," he mutters. 

"you're cute," you tell him with a soft grin, "i love you."

wonwoo leans in to kiss your lips softly, leaving you a little breathless when he slips in a quiet, " and i love you more than you could imagine." 

author's note:

oh my god this fic took everything out of me to get out there... took a whole entire week but she's here, i really hope you guys like it!! i'm really down bad for wonwoo recently, to the point that he might've joined my bias line haha... more reason why tomorrow's gonna kill me. honestly though, this man will keep me going through some tough times (aka jeonghan and wonwoo shortage).

also, i lowkey fell in love with minghao while writing him here so expect a fic soon??? lol idk for a moment there i was confused who this fic was really for (sorry wonwoo i love u tho). as always, thank you for reading and i love reading what you think so please do let me know <3

[kooqitas]

#pairing: friends-dad!wonwoo x reader.

#genre: smut | #w.c: ~1500

#synopsis: it was just a ride offered by your friend's dad, what could go wrong?

#warnings: semi-public sex (car), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, agegap, spit, humiliation, overstimulation. WITHOUT DADDY KINK, THE NAME WAS JUST A JOKE!

#notes: not proofread, english isn’t my first language! ★ m.list | inbox 

support me on ko-fi if you want, i would be very happy :D

the moment wonwoo's car turned down the street, you regretted accepting that ride.

wonwoo is your friend's father, she's not your best friend, but you've known each other for a few months, you used to go to parties together, and this was the first time you went to her house. she always said that her father wasn't old, but wonwoo is like 15 years older than you? god, how young did he become a father? whatever, you know a hot man when you see one, and of course wonwoo is really hot.

because of the heavy rain, it was impossible to order an uber to your house, so wonwoo offered you a ride since his daughter was going to her boyfriend's house. at first you rejected it, you said you would find a way, but your friend insisted so much that it seemed rude to reject jeon's ride.

as soon as the rain stopped, wonwoo took the car out, you got in the vehicle, buckled your seat belt and regretted it instantly.

wonwoo was stupidly hot and watching him drive was driving you crazy, he smelled so good and his lips were so inviting that you didn't even realize when you started having impure thoughts about the man next to you. your friend's father.

your brain betrayed you, and you started thinking about the thick fingers that were on the steering wheel inside you, slowly opening you up to prepare for his cock. what would wonwoo's cock be like? following the logic of the proportions of his body he would probably be hot... and thick… oh, god!

"what are you thinking?" he asked you.

“w-what?”

“you are cute.” he laughed.

“oh, shut up, i’m not cute, cute is for child, i’m not a child.” you grumbled.

he laughed again, biting his own lips.

“yes, i know very well that you are not a child.”

you gasped. was wonwoo flirting with you? what the hell. no, that’s impossible, you are crazy. definitely crazy. 

“but you know... you can call me 'daddy' if you want too”

“mrs. jeon” your voice was a little shaky.

“no, sweetheart, just wonwoo. unless it's a kink for you…”

“wha- what are you d-”

wonwoo stopped the car, and only then did you realize that he wasn't even following the gps location, you were on a dark street, completely deserted, the raindrops were still falling lightly outside the car, so wonwoo faced you, firmly, making your body shake.

“i'm not gonna do anything you don't want, honey. but don't act like you're not a dirty girl who stared at me lustfully in my own house, don't pretend like you didn't look at my fingers on the steering wheel like you didn't imagine them inside you.” wonwoo said in a scoundrel tone, making you cringe, you no longer knew if it was from humiliation or lust.

“i’m-”

“you? what do you want, baby? will you deny your own desire? or are you gonna assume that you want my cock opening up that pussy, hm?”

“wonwoo…”

“what, kitten? do you want be treated with care? or i can just use you however i want? mistreat you completely, use you for my pleasure?” 

wonwoo's right hand rested on your thigh, looking at you before leaving an unchaste caress there, he laughed when you surrendered, opening your legs in anticipation of him raising his hand a little further, his warm finger in contact with your skin the cold air conditioning makes you horny.

wonwoo took off his seat belt, and slapped his thigh twice, you immediately sat there, without any kind of questioning, he laughed, the mocking laugh making you feel a little humiliated.

"don't you think you're the worst kind of whore? fucking your friend's father? you're so disgusting."

the way he spoke gave you a feeling of heat that you had never felt before, unconsciously you began to roll slowly on his lap. god, fuck any moral ethics, wonwoo was fucking hot and your cunt was starting to get wet.

“that is? does this excite you? knowing that your friend's father is gonna fuck you, will treat you like the disgusting whore you are?”

“y-yes” you moaned.

wonwoo laughed in contempt, clenching your jaw and finally kissing you, his tongue tasted like beer and even though you weren't the biggest fan of the drink you loved it, wonwoo was dominant, he led the kiss the way he wanted, sucking your tongue leaving not so light bites on your lips and it was driving you crazy.

you felt when his firm hands lowered the thin strap of your shirt, exposing your nipples and then he lightly brushed his index finger there, making you tremble in anticipation.

wonwoo continued devouring you with his mouth, the man seemed ready to destroy you with a kiss and if he continued at that pace he would easily succeed, the hot tongue curling with more and more desire in his and the kiss smacks becoming more and more wet in your mouth, his fingers making sloppy movements on your needy nipples.

you felt a hand move down from your nipple to your baggy shorts, and then a finger brushed against your panties, making you moan loudly.

“needy whore!” wonwoo laughed.

wonwoo started kissing and biting your neck, the bites hurt like hell, it would clearly leave a mark, but you were loving it, and the moans and gasps you made made it evident.

"are you gonna tell my daughter who marked that neck? are you gonna tell her that you are a desperate whore who gave your pussy to her father in the car?"

“wonwoo…”

wonwoo placed two fingers inside you, making you scream from the shock of the long fingers entering your cunt, he had no difficulty placing his fingers there, easily reaching your g-spot while still marking your neck voraciously.

"dumb bitch, do anything for cock!"

he added another finger, your eyes rolling back, your body was sweating even with the air conditioning in the car, you didn't care about anything anymore, you just wanted wonwoo inside you. he tore your shorts and laid the seat back a little further, kissing your mouth again.

“i'm gonna to fill this pussy up, you'll go home dripping with my cum like a good toy!”

wonwoo removed his fingers from inside you, putting them in his mouth and sucking out every drop of your liquid, and then removed his belt, lowering his pants and underwear right after.

his purple cock made you salivate, at the same time it scared you, you didn't imagine it would be so fat, it terrified you and made you even more horny, every inch of you would receive wonwoo's dick, he would open you up like no one had ever done before .

"you're gonna take my dick like a good slut, aren't you? i'm gonna be able to spread you wide open and you're gonna thank me, right?"

you nodded, and in the next second, wonwoo was entering you.

at first he was gentle, rubbing sloppy circles on your clit until you got used to his size, but a few minutes later wonwoo was thrusting into you like crazy and moaning like an animal.

"i knew that whore's pussy was gonna open wide for my cock!”

he said as he mistreated your pussy with strong thrusts, you didn't think about anything else, you didn't think about the fact that he was your friend's father, you didn't think about the fact that you were on a deserted street, you couldn't think about anything other than how good it was the feeling of having wonwoo hitting your uterus hard.

he grabbed your waist and made you bounce on him, his firm hand pushing you up and down on his fat cock while your belly tingled.

"god, i’m gonna-"

"cum on my dick, whore, cum because i’m gonna cum inside you, i’m gonna fill that pussy with my sperm."

wonwoo laughed in a machiavellian way, and then spat in your mouth, forcing two fingers down your throat, you accepted them, sucked as if it were wonwoo's own cock while facing him, feeling the lust growing in your belly growing more and more.

when he wiped his fingers of saliva on your hardened nipple, you came, screaming so loud that, even though you were on the deserted street, you were still afraid that other people would hear.

when your body started to shake, wonwoo seemed more motivated to destroy you, and continued thrusting against your pussy.

"my freaky bitch only stops when i decide it's over?" he questions seeing that you just accepted his rough pace. "i like it! my daughter has the best friend in the world!"

wonwoo thrust you a few more times, until he came apart inside you, moaning loudly and throwing his head back, your insides becoming completely sticky with your friend's father's sperm.

you still moved, sensitive from the orgasm, but still rubbing against the cock that wasn't completely softened, you wanted more, he wanted more.

fuck any morals, you needed to enjoy the rest of the night together...

and it was with this in mind that wonwoo searched on the gps where the nearest motel was.

[imloyaltoscoups]

it's just a game | jeon wonwoo

Sitting on the barstool, you watch your boyfriend dance with the girl in the middle of the crowded club. The pulsating lights and thumping music create an atmosphere that’s electric, almost tangible. You can't help but smile, offering him a supportive "you're doing great, honey" look. It's all part of the game you two are playing, a lighthearted competition to see who can make the other jealous first. You both know the rules: whoever gets under the other's skin first, wins.

Wonwoo, ever the possessive one in your relationship, is at a disadvantage. He knows you're not the jealous type, yet he insists on playing. You take another sip of your cocktail, a mix of sweet and tangy flavors dancing on your tongue. You start to worry that his plan might backfire.

The girl dancing with Wonu moves closer, her movements becoming more sensual. She sways her hips in time with the music, her body undulating in a way that draws the eyes of everyone around. She slides her hands up her sides, then down again, accentuating her curves. She turns around, backing into him as she grinds against his body, her eyes locking onto his with a flirtatious spark.

You grimace, not out of jealousy, but out of genuine surprise at how forward she is. "Not bad," you mutter to yourself, lifting your glass in a mock salute. "Props to the girl." Your voice is low, only audible to yourself as you take another sip.

He catches your eye over the girl's shoulder, and you can see the faintest flicker of worry in his gaze. He knows this is a bold move, and he’s well aware of the risk he's taking. But instead of feeling threatened, you find it almost amusing. You can tell he’s trying hard to keep his cool, to maintain the upper hand in this game.

The girl continues her dance, turning back around to face him. She drapes her arms around his neck, leaning in close as if to whisper something in his ear. You watch with mild interest, still smiling, your expression a mixture of amusement and bemusement.

Wonwoo's eyes flicker to you again, and you give him a reassuring smile, as if to say, "You’ve got this, honey." He knows you well enough to recognize that look. It’s not one of jealousy or anger, but rather a playful reminder that you’re not so easily shaken.

You lean back on your stool, crossing your legs and taking another sip of your drink. The game is still on, and you’re confident that you have the upper hand. You can see the tension in Wonwoo’s posture, the way he’s trying to balance his focus between the girl in front of him and you.

The girl moves closer, her dance becoming more intimate. She presses her body against him, moving in a way that would make most people uncomfortable. But you just watch, your smile never wavering. You know that your boyfriend’s mind isn’t on her – it’s on you, and how you’re reacting.

As you finish your drink, you place the glass down with a decisive clink, smacking your lips together in satisfaction. You lock eyes with Wonwoo, a mischievous glint in your gaze, signaling that it's your turn to make a move. You see his jaw clench, the muscles tightening, as he braces himself for what you might do next.

He gently removes the girl's hands from around his neck and steps away, heading toward a nearby couch. The positioning is perfect—a guy you've noticed eyeing you all evening is sitting right in front of him.

With a confident pace, you walk over to the couch and gracefully perch yourself on the armrest, positioning yourself close to the guy who has been watching you. You give Wonu a quick, challenging glance before turning your attention to the new guy.

"Hi," you say, flashing a charming smile. "Having a good time?"

The guy, clearly flattered by your attention, responds eagerly. "Yeah, it's a great night. How about you?"

You engage in conversation, leaning in slightly to close the distance, making sure Wonwoo can see every move. You laugh at the guy's jokes, your hand lightly brushing his arm as you talk. The guy's eyes light up with interest, and he starts to mirror your body language, leaning closer and speaking more lively.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Wonwoo's reaction. His expression is carefully neutral, but you know him well enough to spot the subtle signs of his growing frustration. His fingers tap rhythmically against the arm of the couch, and his gaze flickers between you and the guy, assessing every detail.

As the guy's hand edges towards your waist, you exchange a knowing glance with Wonu. It's the moment you both anticipated, the tipping point in your playful game of jealousy. Without hesitation, he stands up, his expression firm as he addresses the intruder.

"Can I borrow her for a moment?" Wonwoo's request leaves no room for argument as he takes charge of the situation.

You shoot him a quick glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. The game is over, and you both know it. With a wry smile, you allow him to lead you away, his grip firm but gentle as he guides you through the crowd and out into the parking lot.

As you settle into the passenger seat of Wonwoo's car, the tension in the air is palpable. He opens the door for you with a silent gesture, and you slide inside, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken emotions. He takes his place in the driver's seat, his movements controlled but tense.

As the door closes with a solid thud, sealing you both inside the confined space of the car, you sense the anger radiating from him like a palpable force. His jaw is clenched, his features tight with frustration, and he leans back against the headrest, his expression clouded with unresolved emotions.

Before you can utter a word, he leans forward aggressively, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. His mouth presses against yours with a demanding force, his tongue pushing past your lips almost painfully. The intensity of his kiss catches you off guard, and you feel a sharp pain as his teeth graze your lower lip, drawing blood.

His hand began to snakes under your dress, fingers tracing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Before he can go any further, you grab his hand, halting his movements.

"Wait," you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not like this."

Wonwoo withdraws, his expression conflicted as he retreats to his seat. He knows he's crossed a line, and the guilt weighs heavily on him. With a frustrated growl, he sheds his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the backseat.

You then started to remove your underwear, Wonu clicks his tongue in approval, interpreting it as a signal to proceed. He swiftly unbuckles his pants, lowering them along with his boxers until they pool around his knees. The anticipation crackles between you as you take the initiative, straddling him and guiding him inside you.

You sink down onto him, feeling the delicious stretch and fullness as he fills you completely. A gasp escapes your lips as you begin to ride him, your movements slow and deliberate at first, savoring every sensation. Clitoral pleasure pulses through you as you press against him, seeking maximum friction and locking eyes with him in a heated gaze.

You lean back slightly, adjusting the angle, and a sharp gasp tears from your throat as his cock rubs directly against your G-spot. Pleasure courses through your veins, igniting every nerve ending in your body.

Wonwoo's movements grow more forceful and demanding, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrusts upwards to meet your movements. He leans forward, his lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along your neck, leaving behind a trail of marks that make you shiver with desire.

"I hate this damn game," he growls, his voice laced with pent-up frustration. "I never should have started it."

As you tangle his hair around your fingers, he continues his assault on your neck, leaving behind a trail of passionate hickeys. His voice breaks through the haze of desire, filled with a raw intensity as he expresses his frustration at the thought of others coveting you.

"I hate how guys look at you," he murmurs, his lips now pressed against yours, "thinking they can have you." His words are punctuated by the fervent nibbling of your lip, a gesture of possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine.

With each kiss, you can sense the desperation in his touch, the urgency in his movements. He kisses you with a roughness that borders on primal, as if trying to brand you as his own, marking you as off-limits to anyone else.

As he moves your hips, thrusting them against him, you can feel the tension building, the anticipation reaching its peak. With each movement, you draw closer to the edge, the promise of release tantalizingly so close.

And then, it happens. With a shared gasp of ecstasy, you both reach the pinnacle of pleasure together. He clings to you tighter, wrapping you in his arms as if he never wants to let go. He wants to experience his orgasm together with you, to feel your release as his own.

You can feel his essence filling you up, mingling with your own release. As you catch your breath, you pull away from his embrace, a playful glint in your eyes as you tease him, "Is this the reward for winning?"

Wonwoo glares at you for a moment before relenting, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. Despite his stern exterior, you can't help but secretly enjoy this side of him, the one that's fiercely possessive and protective of you.

"You're pretty dumb for suggesting a game you knew you wouldn't win in the first place," you quip, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

He chuckles softly, playing with your hair as he suggests a new game. "How about we ignore each other for a day?" he proposes, a hint of challenge in his voice.

You playfully smack him on the chest, feigning offense. "Babe, that's not fair," you protest, though the idea does intrigue you.

With a smirk, you remove yourself from on top of him, allowing him to help you into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt. He fixes his pants, buckling them back up as he starts the engine.

"You know, if we played that game, I'm pretty sure I would lose," you admit with a laugh.

Wonwoo glances at you with a knowing smile. "I know you would lose," he says, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "That's why I proposed it."

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

[nonranghaes]

"do you think i'd be a dumb cat?"

it's late, and you're snuggled up in wonwoo's arms, feeling the way his shoulders shake a little as he softly laughs at the out-of-nowhere question. you just smile, intertwining your legs with his own a little more, holding him a little tighter.

"why do you think that?" his voice is a little raspy this late in the day, and you can hear how tired he is... but not enough that he's drifted off already.

you half-shrug as best as you can. "i think i'd be one of those cats who sticks their head under the sink and tries to drink, only for it to drip off and miss entirely." it's a silly thought that makes you smile, and you snuggle in. "and you'd be my smart black cat boyfriend who's amazing and a genius and just watches me be stupid."

another warm chuckle erupts from wonwoo, and he squeezes an arm around you. you're not always this cuddly, but he's not going to complain at all. "i think you'd be smart in other ways. like... you'd always know when our owner is sad." he runs his fingers along your side, staring off into space.

"... which of your friends do you think would be the best cat owner--"

"vernon." he doesn't miss a beat in the slightest. there's a long pause, and you look up to see the way wonwoo is smiling. "... should we text him?"

it's late. but not late enough to not text vernon, at the same time, a text the two of you discussed together: would you still love us if you found out we were turned into cats?

[svtiddiess]

Wontiddies

Synopsis: Wonwoo's tiddies have gotten so big and firm, you can't help but take a bite.

Pairing: Wonwoo x gn!reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, drabble, slightly suggestive

Rating: sfw

Word count: 376

Warnings: biting of tiddies, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This had to be done, have you seen how big his tiddies are lately?!

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Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

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

A soft heartbeat thumps in your ear as you lie on Wonwoo's chest, feeling safe in his arms. After a hectic workweek, this was exactly what you needed: cuddled up in bed in Wonwoo's arms as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone, his hand resting over you like a weighted blanket.

His chest is one of your favourite places to rest—warm and comforting, with the steady sound of his heartbeat that never fails to lull you to sleep. Jeon Wonwoo's chest is the world’s best pillow, and it’s reserved just for you. Smiling to yourself, you shift in his arms and place your hand over a bare pec.

You give it a squish and furrow your brows. Has his chest always been this firm and big? He’s always had a well-built chest, but never this firm. You squeeze again, a bit harder this time. Damn, all those hours in the gym with Mingyu are definitely paying off because his chest feels noticeably firmer. No wonder it feels extra comfy tonight.

You start squishing his chest again, playing with it like a stress ball. Maybe you should do this whenever you’re stressed, you think to yourself. Wonwoo doesn’t pay any mind, already accustomed to your little quirks. You’ve always been the clingier one in the relationship, so he’s used to you latching onto him and squeezing him in all sorts of positions.

A sudden thought pops into your mind: you need to bite his chest. You feel an overwhelming urge to sink your teeth into the firm muscle. So, you shift closer and do exactly that, grinning as you take a playful bite.

“Love? What are you—” he groans, feeling your teeth press into his pec.

“I’m biting your tiddie—they just looked too biteable,” you say with a cheeky grin, looking up at him.

“Will you let me bite your tiddies, Nonu?” you pout, giving him the puppy eyes you know he can’t resist.

He licks his lips, takes a shaky breath, and nods. You smile, knowing Wonwoo can never say no to you. You lean back down and start sucking on the flesh, and you can feel him shift and groan under you. Oh, this is going to be a long night for sure.

Taglist: @theidontknowmehn @sclovreina @do-you-remember-summer-127 @brownbunnyb @codeinebelle

@tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite

@miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @jennwonwoo

[soo0hee]

Nightmare Manor

Pairing — Ghost!JeonWonwooxReader

Summary — When you had to come back home to a house you had sworn you would never set foot into, you surely did not expect to find yourself in your own personal nightmare...

Genre — horror

AU/Trope Info — Ghost Au

Wordcount — 1.7k

Warnings — psychological terror, supernatural happenings, implied murder, stalking also implied

Rating — NSFW ☕️☕️☕️☕️

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Looking around you just to see the home you had fled the day you had turned 18, just to find yourself right back where you had left things 7 years later, now as the owner of the estate your parents had left behind after their death was surreal.

Everything seemed to be just as it was when you had run out of the front door with nothing more than a bag pack, your phone and the money you had saved from jobs you got to for once have something to yourself. And knowing your parents, that was most likely the case.

The gigantic portrays that seemed to be staring down from the walls were still there just like every artifact that your family had collected over centuries. Everything was still in place and everything felt just as cold and lifeless as when there were still people living in it.

Standing here in the entrance hall and looking around after the funeral of your mother and father was over, you felt just as small as always. Why they had left the house in your hands and not your siblings you didn´t know. After all, they were the golden children while you were just the disappointment that had betrayed the family being leaving. You wanted nothing to do with the house, wanted nothing to do with what ultimately reminded you of a time in which you felt unloved and left behind by those you were supposed to call family.

But that couldn´t be changed now.

You knew that you wouldn´t keep the house. There was no way you wanted to stay for longer then you absolutely had to. You should just burn it to the ground; however this was still the house you had grown up in. Even with all the hatred you had for this place, you still felt somewhat attached to it.

Felt attached to it with its creaking floor boards, scratching sounds in the walls, constant cold that seemed to settle in your bones, flickering lights and footsteps that came from nowhere. The house was weird. It always had been but your parents and siblings had called you crazy often enough in your childhood that you chose to keep quiet about every single incident you could remember.

And there were a lot.

It was weird how it was only ever you who seemed to notice it. At some point in your early life you had actually started to doubt your mental state when nobody reacted when the door opened itself during dinner even though you were sure it was closed or when the cups fell out of the cupboard regularly without being touched.

But then you had left and pushed that life out of your mind.

And now you were back.

Trying to sell this haunted place without much luck.

Whatever you had noticed was also noticed by potential buyers and they were not inclined on buying a house that could very well be the scenery of a horror movie.

You sighed when the door closed and another one left in a hurry.

“Why does this place hate me so much?” you asked yourself with your forehead leaning against the wooden frame of the front door.

The only answer you received was the subtle gust of wind brushing over the exposed skin of your arms and raising Goosebumps all over them. A shudder went down your spine as silence fell over the mansion.

It was no use to question anything and far too late for you to do so anyway. All you felt was exhaustion making your eyes feel heavy after 3 weeks of barely getting any sleep.

If you had though the creepiness off your home as a child was bad, then nothing could have prepared you for when you were living in it alone.

The first night back was weird as you had not set foot into your room in years. Everything had been calm. Almost to calm for your waiting mind to once again hear and see the thing you knew were there.

The second night was much like the first one. Calm. Save for the rats your heard running around in the walls.

And then the third night, just as you had gotten used to the quiet, it had all come back.

The scratching, the footsteps, the creaking floor boards… everything came back full for like it had just waited for you to feel safe.

Safe was the furthest thing you felt now.

You wanted to go home. Your home. The one you had found in a city so far away and so different that it was easy to forget this place when you burrowed in your fuzzy blanket in front of your TV with your cat curled up by your side.

God you missed the fluffy pet that was for now tended to by your best friend until you came home.

A crow sat in the window and tilted it´s head at you.

“At least you can fly away whenever you want. I am stuck here it looks like.” You blinked back with defeated shoulders, turning to leave the hall and walk up the stairs when you thought you saw the shadow of a man out in the field. It was gone as quick as it had come and you shook your head, hoping that it had been the light of the lowering sun playing tricks on your eyes.

“This place is making me go crazy.” You muttered to no one.

All you wanted was to sleep but this night was no different to the others.

Well it was, because this time you felt the growing need to go to the bathroom.

One look to the ticking clock on the wall told you that it was the middle of the night. 3:12 am.

Oh how you hated the thought of having to leave your bed right now.

You reached for the bed side lamp and the room was illuminated by a dark and dim light that only served to magnify the vibe the house already gave. You shuddered like so often.

Feeling that your bladder was urging you to get up you slipped into your bunny slippers and reached for the little night robe slung over the end of your bed to protect yourself from the cold.

The fact that the tab was already open and running hot water, steaming up the mirror did not help settle the bad feeling in your gut but for the sake of the toilet you ignored it. For now.

You did your business and flushed. Stepping close to the foggy mirror and wiped your hand over it. Your eyes met your mirror eyes…

And those of the man standing behind you between you and the door.

A shrill scream left your lips as you whirled around to stare at the stranger that most definitely did not belong inside your house.

“Who are you?” you demanded with your voice shaky enough to fail the intention of sounding brave.

The man’s head fell to the side in a gauging way.

“You´re finally back.” He said with a deep voice that somehow seemed to echo itself.

He was handsome, that much was no doubt and had he not been standing in your bathroom in the middle of the night you probably would have cared about it.

“B- back? What do you- Who are you?!”  You forced out and clung to the sink in your back.

The man blinked at your heavily breathing form. “I missed you.”

“Please, take whatever you want and leave my house! I won´t tell anyone that you broke in here, but please don´t come closer…”

A grin spread over his face as he tilted his head from side to side.

“I didn´t break in. I never left.”

Fuck.

What. The. Fuck?!

“W- what do y-you mean? You never left? What-“

The man stepped closer and you let out a cry, pressing yourself into the furthest corner knowing that there was no way out and past this man. You automatically reached for the hairbrush on the side cabinet and threw it at him.

No.

You threw it threw him and he chuckled like you had tickled him.

This couldn´t be. What was happening?

It was like the brush had passed right threw him and he didn´t even flinch. It almost seemed like his appearance had flickered for a moment before returning back to normal.

You took a deep breath to try and keep calm.

“How long have you been here?” you pressed out between tight lips.

The ghost(?!) thought for a moment but stood completely still. Judging by his clothes he couldn’t be from this time frame but from when-

“1967. The year I died.”

You wanted to die.

“And y-you never left?” you swallowed heavily.

“Can´t. This is my house. Can´t leave.”

“And why show yourself now?”

“You came back.”

You didn´t want to think about the possibility of what his words could mean. The implication that this man, this ghost, had been haunting your childhood home since long before you were even born was already enough for your heart to beat out of your chest in fear but the thought of said ghost watching you leave and waiting for you, You!, to come back? That had your stomach rolling unpleasantly.

“But not for long, I will-“you said quickly but got cut off.

“No.”

You froze.

“What?” you exhaled and watched as the smile of the man vanished and turned into something dark.

“No. You came back. I can´t let you go.”

He said it so easily as if it was the most obvious thing. Like you had ever planned on staying.

“I can´t stay, I- I can´t!”

The man flickered drastically and with him so did the lights. The scratching in the walls started up and the mirror burst in million little pieces.

“NO, YOU CAME BACK TO ME. YOU ARE MINE!”

An ear shattering scream echoed through the night and suddenly he was right in front of you with and ugly smile and an evil glint in his otherwise beautiful dark almost black eyes.

“You are mine to keep my love…”

[caraetdeul]

Checkmate, I Couldn't Lose

Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

You have a secret to tell and what's a better way to confess than through a toast during your wedding's reception?

TW: none other than Wonwoo's killer looks cuz that's a warning on itself.

A/n: this was supposed to be posted weeks ago but I never got to finishing it. And now that I have to cram on so many projects, my brain has decided that its time for the creative juices to push through my writer's block. This was also a sort of reprieve from the amount of angst that I wrote in Tolerate It so hopefully I did good. Anyways, enjoy reading caratdeul!

~Main Masterlist~

The cheers of your loved ones as they dance on the floor. The clinking of champagne glasses together as they congratulate you on a new life. The cold breeze on your white gown as you sway to a waltz rhythm with your husband close to your chest. Your arms around his shoulders and his hands settled on your hips.

It was the night of your lives and it was perfect.

You were well into the reception of your wedding. And honestly, you were having too much fun that you were sure you wouldn’t have a detailed recollection of everything that happened so far. It was a blur of happy faces and celebrations. But if there was one thing you will remember the most, it was the feeling of walking down the aisle, bouquet in hand, slowly inching towards the wonderful life that you will have with Wonwoo as your husband.

Now here you were, in each other’s arms as you swayed to the wedding playlist you both had a hand in creating (he knows that it was 1% his songs and the other 99% was yours but he also knows that you’ve been dreaming of a perfect wedding since you were a kid and he won’t be a hindrance to that). You can see the reflection of your wedding bands on the corner of your eye and you swear that you’ve never seen something shine as brightly as the ones you always see in your lover’s eyes up until now.

You would’ve danced the night away but alas, the event’s host has other plans. The music slowly faded to make way for the host to announce that it was time for some toasts.

Wonwoo huffed, “Do we really have to?”

“Oh honey,” you giggled, kissing the pout on his lips which made him smile, “We both know we won’t be leaving this place without hearing your drunk aunt’s speech about how you were so little when she first met you and how cute you looked in your little dia—”

“Okay, you can stop now,” he blushed, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, “Please tell me she actually won’t say any of that tonight.”

You just shrugged teasingly, earning another groan from him. Hand in hand, you led him back to your seats, laughing as he begged you for any reassurance that he wouldn’t be embarrassed any time soon. You then promptly shushed him when he tried bribing you with something about your honeymoon that you would rather not say in public.

That little shit, you thought as you narrowed your eyes at his smirk. You stopped yourself from slapping the smug look off of his face when he saw your face warming up, fully knowing where your mind had gone the moment he said it.

You were cut off from your thoughts when your sister went up on the stage, officially starting the toasts. You both settled in your chair with Wonwoo’s arm around your shoulder. Inhaling deeply, the two of you start to brace yourselves from the onslaught of inside jokes and nostalgic memories from your closest family and friends.

As each loved one went through their speech, you slowly started to feel your hands clam up with nerves. You didn’t even notice your leg bouncing until you felt Wonwoo’s hand on top of it. You glanced at him only to be met with his brows furrowed in concern. You shook your head with a smile, silently reassuring him that you were fine. He nodded in response before turning back to his father who was currently giving his own toast.

Ending with a lovely note to the wedded couple, your father-in-law gave the mic back to the host before going down the stage. You took multiple deep breaths to calm your nerves as you reached for the glass of water in front of you. Wonwoo watched in concern as you gulped down every last drop before putting the glass down.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, “Yep. Just stage fright getting on my nerves.”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion, ���What do you mean stage fright?”

You were about to answer him when you heard the host finally call you up on stage. You could feel Wonwoo’s eyes following you as you stood up and got on the stage. You thanked the host as they gave you the mic before finally facing everyone.

“Hi,” you started nervously, chuckling when everyone actually responded hello back to you. 

“First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you for giving us your precious time to come here and celebrate with us on this very special day. This ceremony wouldn’t have been as happy as it is right now if any one of you were not here tonight.” you smiled, doing your best to make eye contact with as many people as possible.

“To all of those people who know me best, it’s probably a huge shock for them to see me standing here on stage and actually talking in front of a huge crowd,” you laughed, “To be fair though, I’m trying my best not to actually jump off the stage and run out of here. One of the two reasons that’s stopping me from doing that right now is the fact that I can’t really run in these heels and I would rather die than actually let you all see me trip and fall.” 

A chorus of laughter echoed throughout the hall. As the laughter dies down, so do your nerves a little bit. You thanked the heavens above for still having humor as your coping mechanism before continuing with your speech.

“As for the other reason, well…” you said, your voice gradually softening. You faced Wonwoo properly as you announced, “It’s because I have a confession to make.”

You licked your lips nervously. You watched as Wonwoo glanced at your parents, puzzled over what was happening but he was only met with the same uncertainty from them. He looked back at you with worry written all over his face. You have to stop yourself from swooning over the fact that you knew he was more worried about your well-being than whatever you were about to say.

“Love, I haven’t really been honest with you,” you sighed, “In fact, I haven’t been truly honest with you ever since we first met.”

~~~~~

You were late.

Well technically, you weren’t but you only had about 10 minutes before the movie starts and you’re still 2 blocks away from the theatre. Now, you were running for your life just so you could arrive on time and frankly, you didn’t really want to die in the hands of your best friend if she ever caught you late again.

You were nearing the entrance to the theatre when you saw your best friend Lila standing with 2 guys in front, the three of them seemingly distracted with whatever they were talking about. Once you were close enough, Lila finally looked up from their conversation. Her face lit up upon recognizing you, greeting you with her iconic bear hug. You were about to return the hug when she suddenly smacked you on the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?” you exclaimed, rubbing your arm.

“You’re late,” Lila grumbled, crossing her arms.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whined, “I accidentally fell asleep watching Netflix and by the time I woke up, I knew that I would have to run to actually get here on time.”

“Fine, but you’re paying for the popcorn,” she huffed.

You groaned, “Okay, fair enough.”

Taking out your wallet, you were suddenly reminded of the fact that you two weren’t alone when one of them cleared their throat, successfully catching both of your attention. You looked up from your bag to the taller guy among the two.

“Well, Lila?” he asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your lovely friend over here?”

“Oh right,” Lila chuckled. She then introduced you to the two and vice versa. The guy that just spoke was Mingyu and the other one—

Oh my fucking god.

The other one was breathtaking.

Is it possible that you were just so out of it from running that you were hallucinating an angel? You’re probably just hallucinating things but you were sure that actual flowers and hearts were floating around him like some cliche rom-com anime scene. Maybe the lack of oxygen was finally getting to your brain. That’s definitely more plausible than whatever is actually standing right in front of you. Because goddamnit, that face is too immaculate to be a real human being.

Now, that’s just fucking unfair to the minority.

“What’s unfair to the minority?”

“What?”

“What?”

And that’s when you actually notice that Mr. Born To Kill Me With His Face—you think his name was Wonwoo as far as you can remember before you got too caught up with your thoughts—was already looking at you with a smirk. Your face warmed up with embarrassment when you realized that he caught you staring at him, amusement written all over his face. Thankfully you were saved by the bell when Lila tugged you towards the theatre complaining about the movie already starting without you and you still haven’t bought any popcorn yet, effectively stopping you from making more of a fool out of yourself.

Dazed, you let her pull you towards the snack bar but not before you glanced back at Wonwoo, walking behind you alongside Mingyu. Catching his eye, you immediately turn back to face the counter. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were the one who caught him staring at you just now and not the other way around. You smiled to yourself at the thought.

Once you got the food and drinks, you then made your way inside. Getting to your seats, you sat between Lila and Wonwoo. A mere coincidence to everyone but you. And as you gaze at him from the corner of your eye, his face being illuminated by the rainbow of colors from the screen, you have decided right then and there that you are getting this man one way or another and no one can stop you.

So if you accidentally brush hands with him as you reach for the popcorn you share, if you mistakenly take his drink instead of yours which was on your other side, if you subconsciously lean towards him as you laugh at a joke made by the actors in the movie, there’s nothing to say except it’s all just a mere coincidence.

~~~~~

“And that’s just the beginning of a long and tedious process of stealing your heart,” you grinned.

You started sharing memories of you two where you deliberately changed the course of your relationship. Throughout your speech, you tried your best to avoid looking directly at Wonwoo. The fear of seeing any trace of disappointment and disgust on his face from your actions kept you from making eye contact with him. But that didn’t stop you from confessing to every move you ever made. In fact, it only urged you to be honest more knowing that this is the only time you’ll have the guts to say all of these things. To be fair though, you probably should’ve said this in a more private manner but you can’t really do anything about it now that you’re almost done with sharing your stories.

Laughing as you shared a fond memory of you tricking your husband—then, boyfriend—into letting him think that his idea of your living room arrangement was all from him and not at all a perfectly timed series of suggestions from you, you raised your glass as you finish your toast, “Some of you may call me a genius and others may just think of me as some long con artist. But in all honesty, none of these would’ve ever happened if there wasn’t a single drop of love in between the both of us,. And with that, I want to toast to our married life. May this be a life that will serve as the epitome of our love for each other.”

A round of cheers and applause echoed across the hall as you stepped down from the stage and walked towards your seat beside Wonwoo. Biting your lip, you gazed at him, trying to gauge his reaction to your speech/confession. You didn’t know what to expect to hear from him after all of that but a wide smirk on his face as he whispered his own confession to you was definitely not one of them.

“I knew.”

“What? How?”

“You may be a mastermind but you definitely aren’t subtle enough.”

Wonwoo’s smirk widened even more as he witnessed your cheeks heating up from embarrassment, amused at the way you tried defending yourself. He chuckled before kissing you on the lips, effectively shutting you up.

Once he felt you relax under him, he pulled back a bit from you, far enough for him to watch as you tried to chase after his lips but not too far for you to not hear what he had to say next.

“I love you, my little machiavellian.”

You grinned widely, pecking his lips once more before replying, “I love you too.”

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises @porridgesblog @sasaapportela @allys-reads @clownprincehoeshi @yoonzzziino @gyuguys

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Super Shy ~ A JWW School-Life Romance Pt. 1

Star Athlete!Wonwoo x Shy Wallflower!Reader

Jeon Wonwoo... THE Jeon Wonwoo is... paying attention... to you!?

~1.1k words

Series content: fluff, first crush plot line, school-life anime vibes, slow burn/yearning, some light angst, classmates to friends to lovers, fem reader, reader is ~*super shy*~ and has low self-esteem, reader is kind of bullied (?), sweetie pie Wonwoo, appearances by Choi Hansol and more!, all characters are in high school so no explicit content (but probably kissing eventually).

My Masterlist

Author’s note: Eeeee! I’ve been watching a lot of school life/romance anime these days and here we are lol. Wonwoo is so first love-coded I couldn’t help myself! And I needed something to distract myself from the pain and sorrow of Jeonghan enlisting. This is just part 1, but we’ll see how long this goes! hahaha. Thank you for reading!!! LMK if you want to be on the taglist 😊

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @iIIucere @lukeys-giggle @cookiearmy

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Despite the lingering winter chill, the time had come for the baseball team to start their pre-season training.

You didn’t know this because you were particularly fond of baseball. You (and everyone else in school) knew this because every morning a crowd of girls could be seen clinging to the chain-link fence surrounding the baseball fields.

There was only one reason why they gathered out there so early and in the freezing cold: Jeon Wonwoo.

Jeon Wonwoo was the star of the baseball team in the spring, the star of the track team in the summer, the star of the soccer team in the fall, and the star of the basketball team in the winter.

And everyone... everyone was in love with him.

Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like to you.

Spring came so fast, you thought as you shuffled your way to homeroom. You always got to class early since you didn’t really have friends to meet up with beforehand, and you didn’t play any sports. Your whole life existed within the path from your bedroom to school, only ever deviating to your parttime job at your uncle’s convenience store on the weekends, or occasionally to the library to study.

You glanced out the window to see the crowd of your classmates (not to mention girls from the grade below you and the grade above you) watching the baseball team’s practice game. You were impressed that they got up so early just to watch a practice.

Jeon Wonwoo was in your class, and you had technically spoken with him exactly one time. But still, you didn’t think you could say you’d ever had a ‘conversation’ with him.

Earlier in the year, you had been tasked with collecting everyone’s homework. He had been chatting with the guys seated behind him.

“Um,” you’d squeaked, barely audible, “... Excuse me?”

He had turned to you, looking directly at you through those dark, feline eyes. You could tell right away that they were the eyes of someone with effortless magnetism. Even you felt your face get flushed when they were trained on you.

“Uh, your homework—” was all you could muster, unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” he said, turning to rummage in his bag, “sorry about that—thank you!” he smiled as he handed you his assignment.

He seems nice, you’d thought.

And that was the extent of your interaction with Jeon Wonwoo. Months had passed now, and his seat was on the opposite side of the room from you.

And even though you wouldn’t like to admit it, the moment had stuck with you...

The smile on his face, the way it... sparkled?

You chalked it up to being the moment you really understood why so many people in school were obsessed with him. He was more than just handsome and a top athlete; he was actually really nice. Or appears nice... you’d remind yourself that you didn’t really know Jeon Wonwoo. You didn’t feel like you could say with certainty what kind of person he was.

He wasn’t the most outgoing guy in your grade, but he attracted a lot of attention. You’d never seen him exchange harsh words with anyone. You couldn’t imagine handling that kind of spotlight. You saw girls talk to him and flirt with him all the time—giving him gifts, following him to the cafeteria, passing him notes in class... he was always super nice to anyone who wanted to talk to him, but apparently he’d never reciprocated anyone in the school’s feelings. Sometimes you wondered whether he already had a girlfriend or not.

Someone like him is probably dating a model, you assumed.

Class was about to start, and people came pouring in one by one. You continued to stare out the window, until you felt a tug on your school blazer.

“Hi, Y/N!!” it was your classmate, Chaeryong. She sat in front of you. You weren’t really friends, but she was nice. You were kind of surprised that she approached you.

“I’m sorry to ask, but do you think I could look at your homework from last night?”

“Oh,” you said, coming back down to earth, “Sure.” You pulled your notes out and handed them to her.

“Thank you!!” she said, “I owe you!!”

She took her seat in front of you and started copying down your homework. You knew that it wasn’t right, but you also didn’t care that much if other students copied you. It wasn’t like you’d get in trouble or anything. Even the teachers tended to overlook you. A blessing and a curse at times.

“Your handwriting is so neat, Y/N!” Chaeryong said. Then, the girl who sat next to her asked to see your notes... and another boy from the row in front of her... until eventually, it seemed like the entire class was copying your homework.

“Uh,” you started to interject as yet another classmate asked to see your work, but right then, Jeon Wonwoo and Choi Hansol from the baseball team came in, both of them emitting a post-practice glow and completely disrupting the vibe.

“Ah, Wonwoo! You were going crazy at just a practice, I’m so impressed!” the guy currently clutching your notes turned and said to Wonwoo. You’d gotten out of your seat by now, and were about to reach for your work...

“Oh that was nothing,” Wonwoo said with a casually cocky grin, “what’s that?” He pointed at your homework with his chin.

“Oh, this is Y/N’s homework,” the guy said, “she’s letting me copy.”

“Um,” you said, starting to panic. I never said that!

“What?” Wonwoo said, his tone incredulous. “Do your own homework! Y/N, you don’t have to let this clown copy your work.” His tone was much sweeter when he spoke to you, making your stomach turn inexplicably.

“Aww, Wonwoo! Don’t be like that!” the guy whined.

“Do your own homework next time!” And he snatched the notes from this guy’s hand.

“Here you go,” he said softly as he handed you the notes.

“Th-thanks,” you said, feeling completely flustered. You all but ran back to your seat. Maybe he is really nice, you thought.

“Man, bad timing,” another girl giggled, “we already got to copy Y/N’s notes.”

“Wait, how many people are just copying Y/N?” Wonwoo asked, but the room didn’t answer—instead shuffling off to their respective seats, continuing their own pre-class banter. Wonwoo looked across the room at you while you tried to crawl inside your own skin out of embarrassment. He almost went over to you... but he saw the look on your face and decided against it.

[juniperdugong]

Be my first? - Wonwoo

WC: 824 || Genre: Fluff || CW: Some swears, despite the title, there is only a smidgen of suggestiveness || Wonwoo x fem!reader (established relationship)

A/N: This is a quick little thang that could be (very much insinuated to be) a pt.2 to this lovely fic that's gotten so much love

"How do you like it, baby?"

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you onto his lap. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched you in amusement.

"How do I like it? I don't just like it, I fucking love it, Nonu!" You quickly turned around to meet him face to face. The goofy smile adorning your lips makes him sit tall and proud knowing that he's the one who's made you like this.

You pepper his face in light kisses as you fumble with the box. You've long discarded the gift bag at this point and Wonwoo sighs knowing that he's gonna have to pick it up later because you'll inevitably forget to clean your mess. He just enjoys being showered in your physical praise for the moment, pushing all other thoughts to the side.

Finally, you get it open. Your face gleaming with joy as you hold your new treasure. Excitedly you dart between your present and Wonwoo's face, like a puppy asking for permission from its owner to run around the park full speed. He nodded gently and you were off to the races!

The Instax mini evo instant film - a beauty of a modern film camera that you've eyed since its release.

To be honest you weren't as into film and photography as Wonwoo but you always admired the look of some of the older analog film cameras he had. You expressed a slight desire to get into the hobby but only if you could do it digitally... the only thing stopping you? You absolutely hated the way modern cameras looked. Of course, the aesthetic shouldn't matter when it comes to equipment but it mattered to you just enough to not commit to photography, although you'd never admit it.

But with the Instax mini, you could basically say FujiFilm read your mind and came out with the perfect product for you to fulfill your oh-so-selfish desire of looking like someone who knows their way around a camera. All of this of course to impress your handsome nerd of a boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo.

"Be my first?" He looked at you quizzically before scanning his own body with his eyes, "Baby, we've already-"

"No, you ass. I meant let's take the first picture together..." You hit him on the chest lightly before skimming over the manual for a gist of how everything worked. He gave a small chuckle and a light peck to your cheek, relaxing into your shoulder once again. "Sure, pretty girl. I'd love to be the first."

Once you're sure you've got down the basics you raise the camera above your heads, making sure your angle is perfect. "You better smile very prettily for this, Jeon Wonwoo." you say through gritted teeth as you hold "the perfect poised smile".

"Of course, I won't dissapoint, angel." He tucks your hair behind your ears on the side that he's resting against, puts on his best smile, and reaches up to meet the hand you're using to hold up the camera.

"What are you do-" Before you can get your question out Wonwoo uses his other hand to push your head towards him, catching you in a kiss. His timing is perfect because just as you're about to push him away he snaps the photo.

Immediately he takes the camera from your hands and prints the picture. You stare at him in complete shock at his audacity. "Wonwoo~" You whine as he holds an iron grip on the device you're so desperately trying to get back from him.

"Just a second... and... Got it!" He all but tosses the camera onto your lap as he hastily grabs at the photo once it's printed. The content laugh that comes out of him as he sees the result has you fuming.

"Let me see!" You snatch it from him and cringe at what you see next.

Wonwoo with his perfectly sculpted face, eyes closed gently, leaning in ever so gracefully and meeting you. You who had your eyes wide open in shock and lips pursed out of habit, but they more so resemble duck lips than anything else.

"You should put that in your phone case, baby." With a look of complete and utter dissatisfaction and disgust, you look at your boyfriend, who is thoroughly enjoying your reaction with the biggest smile on his face. You punch his chest, he pretends to be hurt for a second before returning to his state of euphoria.

"Yeah? Since you seem like it so much maybe you should put it in your phonecase." You hold the picture up to his face, a chuckle coming from him as he beholds his masterpiece once more.

"I'm good, I've already got the perfect photo in mine." He flips his phone over and thumbs at the cutout frame of a photo strip, your first kiss. "Plus, it's your first picture with your new camera, cherish it, baby."

A/N: Not proofread!! A little something something because I was in the writing mood~ A question to any fanfic authors who read this, what's your word count per day? Me personally, whether it's a part of a longer fic or not, I average about 1000. This fic was actually written with like an hour and a half. Anyways lovelies, let me know what you think!!!

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog