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xhmeusworld · 6 months

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high & dry | choi seungcheol

genre: smut, angst, best friend! seungcheol

pairings: choi seungcheol x gender neutral reader

warnings: dom! cheol, fingering, dirty talk, begging. absolute filth honestly

note: this was originally wrote with a different idol in mind, but i just had to make it cheol.

honestly, no matter how hard you try, you can’t remember how he came into your life. he was always just there.

choi seungcheol was a part of your earliest memories.

you contributed this to the fact that your mother enrolled you in soccer when you were four, the coach being seungcheol’s dad. on that field is where you first laid eyes on the dark-haired boy. every practice, cheol always accompanied his father and you two become friends almost immediately.

it was no surprise to both of your parents.

“what if y/n and cheol get married when they’re older?”

“i’m literally already planning the wedding.”

you were three. cheol was five when that conversation occurred between both of your moms. you remembered hearing it when it was time to leave the soccer field, but you were obviously too young to know what they were talking about.

all you knew was that cheol was your best friend.

from there on out, the two of you were inseparable. where one went, the other followed. if one jumped, the other jumped.

entering kindergarten, you remembered feeling so excited just because you could see cheol more, only to be disappointed when you learned that he was ahead of you in second grade.

he was there for you when homework stressed you out to point where he ended up finishing it for you. he was there to get you ice cream in the early hours of the morning.

he was there for you when your prom date stood you up, leaving you a sobbing mess in front of your house.

he was even there for you through your first real breakup freshman year of high school. you knew cheol didn’t like him anyway.

“why is everyone looking at me?” you asked cheol as you moved through the hallway, preparing to go to next period. you awkwardly kept your head down toward your feet as hushed whispers reached your ears.

your best friend softly touched your back in reassurance, but he was clearly as confused as you were. “just ignore them, y/n. clearly they don’t ha-“

his voice abruptly stopped as well as his feet as you neared your locker, a large group of students surrounding it. you moved your head up to see what was going on at the same time cheol grabbed you and turned you into his chest. “don’t look!”

at this point, his advice came too late as you caught a glimpse of the red spray paint that was covering your locker. you felt like you were going to be sick when the word registered with you.

slut.

“do you think we will always be friends?”

your voice broke the silence of cheol’s room, which was only illuminated by his green LED lights. after the incident at school, you couldn’t bring yourself to be alone and you weren’t surprised when he offered to let you stay the night.

cheol flashed you his signature smile, the smile that had your heart doing flips in your chest. he rolled over onto his side to face you, using his arm to prop himself up to look at your face. you were resisting the urge to stroke the stray piece of hair that had fallen into his face.

moving onto your side, you let out a sigh. cheol’s knuckles were scabbed from tracking down your ex-boyfriend. as soon as he saw the word on your locker, he knew it was your ex’s doing and it wasn’t long before he tracked him down, only to make sure he never attempted something like that again. while you knew he did it to defend you, you felt guilty that he got hurt in the process.

“of course, we will always be friends, y/n! i got you. I always got you. why wouldn’t I?”

one thought rang in your head.

because i love you.

but you kept your mouth shut. you weren’t going to ruin the best thing in your life just because of some dumb feelings that caused you to break up with your ex in the first place.

nothing could disrupt the relationship you had with seungcheol.

or so you thought.

junior year rolled around and everything began to change.

cheol had just entered his freshman year of university to study music and producing. you were so proud and excited for him, but also afraid. afraid of what might change between the two of you. his university was over an hour away from you and the distance was going to have an impact.

you knew that he was going to be busy. cheol was going to go to college. make new friends, discover new opportunities, leave you behind.

he promised that he would never do that and always make time for you. “i’ll come home on the weekends to see you, y/n.” but six months into the year, the texts became less frequent. calls became nonexistent. you often went months without seeing each other and when you did, it was brief and awkward.

eventually, the contact stopped all together.

he still liked your social media posts and you still liked his, but that was it. neither one of you reached out. you didn’t congratulate him when one of his songs won an award at a university showcase. in return, cheol never even said anything when you revealed your senior year that you had been accepted to the same university to study pre-med. it was like your friendship never truly existed.

you pretended like you weren’t hurt. maybe it was meant to be like this. you never truly believed in signs, but maybe this was the universe trying to tell you something. maybe it was better off that you didn’t have to pin over choi seungcheol anymore.

and you were finally getting to where you felt okay. where you could breathe and walk around campus without the anxiety of running into him.

until you got persuaded to go to the first frat party of sophomore year.

your plan was just to go for a little bit and have fun. loosen up, make sure your friends were safe and not doing anything stupid.

you definitely didn’t expect to run into the one person you didn’t want to see.

and you definitely didn’t expect what happened next.

maybe it was the alcohol in both of your systems. or the fact that you both were older, away from your parents. maybe it was stress. you weren’t sure, but at this point, you didn’t care.

cheol’s lips were attached to your neck, goosebumps risen on your skin and his teeth nipping gently at the soft flesh. you let out a breathy moan, as his fingers slowly stretched you in and out.

his hands gripped your hips tightly, his body pressing you even closer against his chest. “does that feel good? do my fingers feel good inside of you?”

you couldn’t do anything but release a whine. of course his fingers felt fucking amazing. they filled you up so well, so much better than your own. but he was such a tease. although you hadn’t talked to him in years, you could remember the conversations you had as teenagers about the sexual experiences you had. you remembered he enjoyed teasing. he enjoyed begging, but you did everything you could push that to the back of your mind.

until now.

cheol chuckled as your wetness coated his fingers, sliding a third one to mix. “god, you’re dripping and it’s so all for me.”

you let out another whine. “go faster.”

“are you sure you’re ready for that, sweetheart?”

instead of responding, you let out a frustrated noise, your hands going down to grab his wrist, trying to make him speed up yourself. you attempted to buck your hips against his hand to gain more friction, but he was holding onto your waist so tight, it was nearly impossible.

“aw, you’re so cute when you’re needy,” he whispered, his teeth tugging on your ear lobe, earning a moan from you.

his three fingers curled up inside you and you let out a yelp. cheol couldn’t help but smile. “there’s the sweet spot.”

you could see stars as his pace increased and decreased, wanting to tease you and prolong your climax as much as possible. you knew this was giving him a power trip. you could feel the authority radiating off of him and you didn’t want to disobey, but you couldn’t take it any longer.

“cheol-“ you whined. “please.”

you felt his breath hit your neck as he smiled. “please what?”

“i wanna cum.”

“oh, does baby want to cum all over my fingers?”

you nodded quickly, not even caring about how eager you sounded. “oh yes, cheol, please wanna cum over your fingers so bad.”

before you had the chance to even comprehend what was happening, cheol curled his fingers once and again, pulling them in and out at a fast pace. his other hand moved down to land a slap on your clit, which he purposely been neglecting, and you let out a moan. you didn’t even care that you guys were in a frat house full of people. let them hear.

the dark-haired boy pulled and traced figure eights across the area you needed him most and you quickly felt the pressure building up in your abdomen and it wasn’t long before you came undone.

you were exhausted as cheol removed his fingers from you, but it was clear the night was far from over as he flipped you onto your back, his eyes dark as he surveyed your naked figure.

“you know, I thought about this a lot when we were in high school.” cheol said softly as he reached down to plant kisses along your stomach. “the way you would look under me. the way you would feel under me. so soft. god, i even imagined how innocent and small you would look. all at the mercy of me and only me.”

a moan left your lips at his words, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin. you couldn’t help but arch your back as you felt the hardness in his jeans brush against your bare core. “i thought about this too.”

at your confession, cheol nipped at your neck, earning a high-pitched moan from your lungs. you could already feel the wetness between your legs once again and you were sure he could too.

cheol pulled back from your body, reaching down to undo his belt and slip his jeans and underwear down his body. they were quickly discarded on the floor where your clothes and his shirt had landed forever ago.

your eyes widened as you took in his size. you knew he was big, but you didn’t think he was that big. the tip of his cock was leaking pre cum and it was so red and angry that you knew it had to be painful for him.

cheol give you a smile. “like what you see?”

you nodded, quickly, feeling lightheaded. “yeah, cheol, you’re so big.” your voice came out small and weak, like a mouse, and that gave him such an ego boost.

he pulled you closer, his lips returning to your neck. it wasn’t long before he pushed his cock into you, your back arching from the relief you felt the moment he did so. a deep groan fell from his lips, and his eyes squeezed shut as he began to thrust his hips into your own, the feeling of him allowing pleasure to bloom across your entire body.

"fuck," he moaned, "you feel so good."

instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to pick up his pace, sweat beginning to glisten across his forehead. he buried his face into your neck, leaving kisses along your jaw while containing the grunts that came from him.

it felt as if flames were licking up and down your body, your hands gripping the back of his shoulders and your own moans soft and delicate with each and every movement. you could feel an intensity building up into the pit of your belly,

"i-i'm close," you whimpered, throwing your head back.

"then let go for me, my baby. I got you. i always got you,” cheol cooed, allowing his thumb to swirl around your clit, which sent you completely over the edge for the second time that night.

there were those words again.

you didn’t have to be told twice as your walls clenched around him. the pressure in your abdomen finally being released.

you let out whines and mewls as cheol chased his own high, the aftershocks of your organism still running through your body.

cheol followed soon after, a deep groan leaving his lips as his thrusts began to slow before he pulled out, painting your stomach white.

suddenly the room that was filled with both of your moans was silent except for pants that we were leaving both of your bodies. the older boy quickly reached across his nightstand to grab tissues before softly cleaning you up.

“I remember you not liking sticky stuff,” he said, quietly. “you used to cry when we were kids if your hands were sticky from food or something. you didn’t like the feeling.”

the fact that he remembered that detail after all these years and the fact that he was talking like you guys never lost contact made your heart hurt. why is he pretending like nothing happened?

but you didn’t want to think about that right now. all you wanted to do was curl up next to your best friend and sleep. you would deal with everything in the morning.

cheol had the same idea as he pulled you against his chest, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. your slowly moved your feet to entangle them with his. “go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

and you drifted off to sleep with his fingers in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. your heart hoping that tomorrow, after years, you would finally have your best friend back.

once again, you were wrong.

when your eyes finally opened the next morning, choi seungcheol was gone and all you had left was your lonely heart

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teen6ge · 3 months

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Seoul Drift - masterlist

☆ summary: Ever since your mom tied the knot with Seungcheol's dad, you've been drawn to the electrifying world of drift racing. Watching Seungcheol—aka S.COUPS—tear up the streets, cementing his place as one of Seoul's top drifters, filled you with pride. From the moment you witnessed your first race, you've been itching to join in, begging Seungcheol to teach you the ropes. But he's always been dead set against it, wary of the dangers lurking in the shadows of the racing scene. However, everything changes when Wonwoo, a member of a rival crew, enters the picture. Suddenly, the lines between personal and professional blur, and seismic shifts rock both your personal life and Seungcheol's drifting career.

☆ pairing: fem!reader x racer!wonwoo

☆ genre: action. angst. eventual smut. strangers to lovers.

☆ chapters: one

☆ a/n: so i have been rewatching fast series and that got me thinking about writing something of the sort... i'm incredibly excited for this one. i still don't know how long this is going to be, but i also don't have plans in making this so short. i appologise in advance if there are mistakes, english is not my first language. i hope you all enjoy the idea tho <3

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monnn · 4 months

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When you know, you know.

staring: Idol! Mingyu x Non-idol!, GN! s/o

wc: 1.4k-ish

genre: slice of life(?), FLUFF. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LOVE MINGOO, comfort-ish(?)

warnings: mentions of food, reader being sick(in love), tooth-rotting fluff.

a/n: hi omg hello, i am alive and finally out of my writer's block(ig?). i'm terribly unwell atm and i've never craved the comfort of a person as much as i do with gyu, so here's a highly self-indulgent fic! i hope you are doing okay and i just wanna say, i'm so glad to be writing again. have a great day/night and hope this fic reaches the person in need of a cutie mingoo atm! ♡

the song rec for this fic would be Margaret by LDR ft. Bleachers!!!

Mingyu's on his way back, with your favourite meal and boba. Was there a reason to get take-out? Definitely not, he really just felt like it. If you had made food, Min could convince you to have it next day. That's how it usually went and he was mostly successful. With his manager dropping him off, he heads inside the elevator and straight to your floor. Since he already knew the code to your apartment, he quietly let himself in, eyes immediately searching for you.

What he doesn't expect to find, is you sitting in the dark on a chair, curled up in one of your fav blankets with a flask coddled in your arms. Your head's supported by a chair on the dining table, mouth slightly open as you doze further away. Min quietly trots through the living room to you, slowly putting the bags down, careful not to wake you up. He adores you for a good minute, slowly lifting you up to rest in your bed. Their neck must hurt, but they keep doing this >:( he wonders to himself while carrying you.

He lets you rest while he does all the chores that you weren't able to do cause of your sickness. A few hours pass by, you wake up with Mingyu sitting by your side, barely touching you in the process of waking you up. He knew how extra sensitive you were to touch when sick, hence he decided to call out for you than kissing you to consciousness. You wake up slowly while he adjusts pillows behind for you to sit straight, he really is a nagging Asian mum in disguise. Handing you warm water to hydrate, he looks at you with all the love in him to see if you need anything from him. You catch him looking and reach for his hand, realising the love you have for him is unbelievable.

"You know love, I can't ever thank you for being so kind to me. I feel like there isn't enough of me to be so damn grateful for you." you say, lovingly gazing at the love of your life. A faint pink's spread all over his face as he nuzzles his face to your hand.

"And I'm ever so happy to be the receiver of your gratefulness, regardless of the amount. It takes two to tango I guess." he says, ever so lightly pressing his lips to your hand. After basking in each other's presence for a while, he mentions about the food he's got, which gets you outta bed in no time.

You head to the kitchen to unpack the boba, while he joins you in heating the food up. It's then you think how freeing it is, to be doing the most mundane things with Mingyu. He just seems to make the littlest of things much more better and you love that about him. A bump against your shoulder gets you back, where the food to your side is all ready to be devoured. Quickly removing the covers around drinks, you move to place them on the dining table. One where you're sitting and the other next to you. That's the thing about you guys, Mingyu never likes it when he's not next to you. He hates how all the fancy restaurants have seats across and not next to each other. But now, he gets to have a meal with you next to him and he thinks about how this is his highlight of the day. Min loves being around you and having a meal, so it's like two of his favourite things put together. You spread out the mat for the hot pan to be put on while settling down in your seat, waiting for the food to arrive. Looking at this, Mingyu hurries to place the pan down while grabbing two spoons before sitting down. Both of you look at each other, nodding in agreement to start eating. It's absolute delight running through your body and eyes for Mingyu. He loves it when you enjoy things he does for you. Raising your boba drinks to cheer, both of you devour in silence, enjoying the food and each other's presence. By end of the meal, you're much more comfortable to let Min under your skin and he's never been so much happier to be as affectionate as his heart needs. Taking the last bite, you stand up to call dibs on cleaning up since he literally did all the leftover chores. And right when you're about to get the pan, Min's grabbing you by the hand, turning you to face him. You're glad to be seeing eye-to-eye since he's on his butt and you're standing.

"What's up?"

"Can you please let me do the dishes? You're literally sick, doing more work would just worsen it."

"But Min, you did all of the chores! It's really unfair if you don't let me, you know." you say as he scoffs.

"I don't care, I love you but please let me do the cleaning."

"I love you so so sooo much too my Min, but I cannot let you do the cleaning up."

"Okay, how about we rock-paper-scissors this?"

"Alright. On the count of three, two, one!"

And to his luck, you throw a rock while he throws a paper. The council has decided and you accept your fate, slowly moving away from the pan.

Right at the moment, Mingyu pulls you in a hug, nuzzling further to your middle while almost sounding like a puppy adjusting to fall asleep. You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to lay your head on his. But, you're suddenly pushed away just to be pulled back onto his lap, while he holds you dearly and continues to be adorable. Again, you have no choice but to stay limp for him to recharge himself. It's hard not to admit how secure and loved you feel in Mingyu's big beefy arms, you kiss him on the side of his head impulsively to convey the same. That loosens his hold on you, him whining on how you always catch him off-guard with your actions. Now, there's nothing but giggles filled in your living room, both of you so knee-deep in love and into each other cause when you know, you know.

-------------------------

a/n: comments and feedback are highly appreciated! hope you enjoyed reading this work of mine, thank you! x

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myung-heee · 9 months

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be quiet

pairings: wonwoo x f!reader

genre: smut

warnings: oral, praise kink, pet names, fingering, crying, orgasm denial, overstim..

"the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he whispered to himself as he gently sucked your neck.

you let out a soft moan and tugged your fingers in his hair. he fixed his glasses and looked up at you. "do you want it here, sweetheart?" he asked, his hands on the strap of your dress, looking at you.

"Should I cover my mouth?" you asked, biting your lips.

he let out a soft laugh and pecked you on your lips. he sighed. "you're so adorable, i don't think i can be that gentle to you, baby." he pulled your strap away, letting your dress fall to your stomach.

he sat you on the table and leaned closer to you. he kissed your neck down to your shoulders. he gave your chest enough attention as he sucked it and bit it slowly.

you put your hand on your mouth as you refused to let out a sound. your family is outside. You can't just be loud.

you felt his hand on your waist as he pulled you down and bent you around. "you'll have to be quiet, okay?" he whispered into your ear. you replied with a nod. you put your hand on your mouth and held on to the table tightly as you felt him towering behind you.

he pushed himself closer to you as he took your pants and pulled them down. he gently rubbed a finger into your entrance before finally putting it in, making you whimper against your mouth.

seeing you trying so hard not to make a sound turned the fuck him on, and now he couldn't control his finger as he dipped another one and started pumping inside you, deeper and faster, making you gasp.

you never thought an innocent family gathering would end up like this.

"w-woo.. im.. im.. close." your brows furrowed as you bit your lips and arched your back at him. he bit his lips as he could see your entrance dripping wet and loud.

"can you hold it?" his voice is deep.

fuck no, you obviously can't.

you shook your head, your hand still on your mouth. "come on, baby, can you hold for a second? a minute?" he smiles behind you as he bends himself more.

you tried holding it in, but the pace of his finger was fucking your brains out so much that you started to shake your head. "i can't.. can't." you bit your lip so hard as your hand held tightly onto the edge of the table.

your chest is leaning deep, touching the cold surface of the table. "woo.. i can't," you hissed as you felt yourself coming onto the edge.

his fingers are still inside you; he's now curving them to make sure they hit your special spot. tears went down to your cheeks. you tried to stand up and resist but couldn't. he's basically bent in into your back, chest pressed against your back, face resting on your neck, as he kept on moving his finger inside you so damn hard.

you can feel his glasses poking your neck, and you feel his breath in your neck too.

you tapped his skin—or whatever skin you can touch as long as you can signal him. "no more, please.. i can't," you sobbed.

he immediately stopped pumping his fingers inside you and stood up straight. fixing his glasses again before he slowly and gently took his fingers out. the wetness still connecting his finger to your core.

"good girl," he sighed and kissed your head, "such a good girl."

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dropsofletters · 6 months

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what's up, mr. hollywood?

—SUMMARY: if someone hasn’t heard about jeon wonwoo, they must be living under a rock. one of the grandest stars in hollywood, face to rom-coms and thrillers, shows the spectrum of a real celebrity. though, that is ruined when a bitter ex-girlfriend decides to drop pictures of him almost naked for the world to see, splitting it in half—should he just do an underwear campaign or disappear from the limelight for good?

so, he decides to travel to the most secluded villa he can find, and in there, he happens to fall in love with books and a certain librarian who speaks too much and still, leaves him with too little information about her.

eager to get to know her more, wonwoo forgets that he’s actually a celebrity and that reality must strike at their door one day. hopefully, not any time soon.

—TITLE: what’s up, mr. hollywood?

—PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

—GENRE: glimpses of notting hill!au ; strangers to lovers!au ; celebrity!au ; actor!au ; idiots in love!au ; librarian!au ; bookstore!au

—TYPE: fluff ; angst if you squint ; suggestive if you squint ; humor given by jun’s character lol

—WORD COUNT: 13,270 words

—NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want to support me, you can ask me to write something for you over there.

He could get tied down by the diamonds that wrap around the wrists of the women that transcend in his life, like the pieces of paper of a script that he never really imagines in his list of cinematography. That way, it would be easier to wake up in West Hollywood, in a mansion so big that—sometimes, though he won’t admit—he gets lost in the rooms. Wonwoo wouldn’t have to think twice on promising with a band a supposed forever that ends in five months. Like everything in this plastic world does.

Wonwoo could get used to the sweet taste of fame, that bathes the gold of his latest Oscar for a film he knows will follow him to the grave. The flashing of lights, the egotistical boosting and the screaming voices that grant him the benefit of leading a generation while he feels inherently lost. Pursuing a fraction of what he was able to give through three years of pressure for completing only two hours of film, applauded by the critics, but now a shadow he will always have to follow, mimic and surpass.

He could get used to being famous.

He could.

The truth is, Wonwoo isn’t, doesn’t and won’t. He’s there, then he’s not. It’s been like that for nine days now. Spank Magazine! Decided it would be a great idea to plaster him in his most delicate and reckless state. Wonwoo had been sharing a few summers with the same woman, Courtney, a love that never really translated into nothing more than a week together, drinks to be shared, kisses to be yearned for and then, he’d leave London. With nothing to seek for other than the faint breeze that is the complete opposite of the blaring sun in Hollywood, and the idea that he has someone waiting for him in case he feels lonely in between films.

The drinks must have gotten heavy, or Wonwoo isn’t really as smart as he grants himself to be. Always. He thought he’d never miss a step and he almost hears his manager, Sandara, laughing at him straight at his face. If only she wasn’t trying to erase the image of Wonwoo looking out of a window in white boxers in some secluded penthouse in central London. This summer, it seemed like Courtney wanted something else. Fame.

He hadn’t realized the picture had been on her iPhone, neither did he think that the moment he got off his plane that took him back home he would have to see literal signs at the airport that showed him half naked. The first thing he did was hide, and the second…okay, he hadn’t really thought of a plan. Other than compulsively buy a plane ticket to a villa in France and hope, perhaps, that he won’t have to explain if his shoulders are really that big naturally or not.

“You could have totally stopped this from happening.” Sandara looks unlike how she does when they are in Hollywood. Normally, she’s wearing a straight pencil skirt paired with a button down and her hair in a ponytail. She never misses the coffee with three shots of espresso and perhaps, a line of sugar—or cocaine, her energy is unmatched—, but now, she’s trapping a croissant in between her hands and she has tried to make the enormous yellow sweater she has paired with green leggings work. The frog look isn’t half as bad on her slim body.

“I know.” Wonwoo walks slowly, while she roams around him like a puppy would. Sandara has always said it. Wonwoo’s weakness for complexity gravitates him to women that leave everything to desire. He pulls the cap a little over his head, covering more of his eyes in case anyone sees him while walking to the nearest library. “I never said it wasn’t my fault, but I’m giving you a vacation and running away from the chaos you were trying to solve.”

“I offered you a way of turning this around and you didn’t—”

Wonwoo scoffs at her words, rolling his eyes. “You knew I was going to say no from the get-go.”

“Wonwoo, people are not hating on you because you’re half naked. You just pulled a Miley Cyrus. Destroyed the whole poised, serious, intelligent guy persona and changed it for the hot guy in the white boxers thing.” Sandara pulls a finger up in the air, pointing out what she thinks is obvious. Meanwhile, the breeze plays with her hair until it is standing on various spots. “…Calvin Klein offered to help us out. A few campaigns with the boxers on, and then, we finish it off with a good sex scene in one of your films. You’re a man. If it was me on that magazine and I was famous, I would have been destroyed.”

Wonwoo hates that it is a reality, but he didn’t really intend on posing. Sure, he is not an angel. His career doesn’t let him stay with someone as much as he’d like to, for he always has to travel, film something else, prepare for a script or a new series to take on, but he also hasn’t done much else past the expected. Stories can be told about Hollywood that are rather true of orgy parties and eccentric relationships, but he doesn’t do much past the normal. Perhaps, a risky picture if he is feeling…rather comfortable, but he’s private about the matters that take up on the heart.

He just happened to be a bit tipsy, looking out of the window and not noticing that a picture had been taken of him, and while he’s pleading the case of using the law against Courtney for breaking his privacy, he’s also taking a break. And needing to read a book.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,” Wonw0o starts, pushing the doors of the only library he could find in this secluded spot he had found in France. Sandara passes under his arm, still walking backwards and somehow not falling. “But it’s not who I am. I just don’t do soft porn.”

“Wonwoo—”

“My ass was displayed on a magazine. I’m lucky it’s not my dick, but I’d rather just not…milk it.”

“Oh, wrong choice of wording.”

“Sandara.” He groans, throwing his head back. The place catches his attention in the matter of seconds. The walls are baby blue, like the revelation of a child’s bedroom, with sprinkles of brick walls here and there in a beige color as an addition of texture. The tables are smaller in comparison to the rows of books, lined up by genre and color. It’s a pleasure to a thoughtful mind, as he traces the outline of the romance plethora. His least favorite genre. “You’re sexualizing your client.”

“I swear I’m not. You’re the one talking about milk!” She jokes around, laughing at the flush that he’s certain appears on the apples of his cheeks, before she’s grabbing one of the smaller books in the row, standing at the tip of her toes to reach it. “The Duke’s Final Wish. Oh, so the duke dies in this book. What’s the point of reading something you know everything about just by the title alone?”

He doesn’t understand it either, so Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m more of a thriller guy myself, but I’m in France, I’ve just dumped someone entirely from my life and…” His nose scrunches up upon the sight of the naked, sun-bathed abs on the duke on the cover. “Maybe, I just need to read softcore love times to feel less miserable about…everything.”

Sandara’s brown eyes turn mellow, sighing deeply. “Wonwoo, this is just another turn in your career. I promise everything will get better.”

It will, he’s certain. Matters always go back to place.

However, he remembers his start as an actor. He was this shaky, flimsy sixteen-year-old teen who cried on the outsides of a casting because he was tired of receiving no’s. Who wiped his tears on a pillow when he got called from another casting to participate with just one line. He’d wake up every single day at five in the morning; giving up adulthood, growing up, having friends, dating, studying, just for the sake of getting in better movies. He hit it big when he was twenty, skyrocketed in a military film, and from then on, he never rested. Movie after movie. A show, then another one.

And just like that, it lost sense. With every critic that shadowed him with that one big film he did last year, whatever product that came to fruition was worthless. It was a race with himself—and he’s tired of running.

And—

Oh, wait.

It smells like insect repellent…

“Roach, go away, you!”

“Huh?” Wonwoo’s curiosity gets the best of him, peaking from behind the shelf to see a slender, tall man holding, indeed, an insect repellent and spraying it on a blonde gentleman. He recognizes the first one—the attacker in question—to be one of the workers because of the uniform. A cloud sweater inside white pants, according to the name of the library—Somewhere On The Clouds—, but he’s flimsy in comparison to the buffer, taller man that he’s trying to go after.

The cockroach character, per say.

He hears more shushing and spraying, along with a woman’s name that escapes the blonde’s lips. “I wasn’t talking to you, Wen Junhui, my wife is over there and you’re not letting me talk to her—”

“She’s not your wife anymore.”

“You can’t physically get over someone so quickly.”

Another spray and now, this Junhui guy with the long brown hair and septum piercing, has finally landed on the taller man’s eyes because he hears a groan that reverberates throughout the library. “If it’s you the someone we are talking about, oh, trust me, it’s easy. No woman could ever—”

“I’ll close your mouth up with a good old fist, Junhui. Stop! Stop spraying me!”

He hears another commotion, of closed doors and shushes that follow after someone physically more peaceful than the other men. And for once, Wonwoo loses interest in physical matters like the cameras that could flash around him and the book at hand. His heart hums, singing a melody when looking at her. Her hair is tied in two braids and closed in a bun behind her back, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, looking at the blonde man with the firing rage of a million wars that went unfought.

Even Sandara is listening closely when she speaks. She’s rain in its biggest form; when it pours down and becomes unstoppable.

“I thought he said you could go away, Pierre.” She outs to the world, only to have the blonde man shaking his head, twinkling green eyes staring back at her.

“Love,” He’s trying to grasp her hands, wishing to say something more, but when their hands interlock, she slaps his away. “Don’t you push me away.”

“By law, you pushed me away yourself.” She instructs, pushing at his arms when he’s trying to get closer. “Pierre, I’m being serious. Stop disrupting my library and just go away.”

“But—”

Wonwoo is not a hero, neither does he think this is the situation for him to try to be one. However, he does accidentally—or not so much so—happen to slide his hand across a shelve that wasn’t holding up tightly. The books fall one by one, like a domino effect that gain him the attention of the woman with the attitude of an owner and a dislike for her ex-husband and the man in question.

He smiles, tight-lipped and shy, with the Sun blessing his cheeks along the lines of red coloring. He expects her to launch at him, ask him to leave Somewhere On The Clouds, but instead a gentle smile takes over her face. Oh, of course, someone like her would just know what he’s doing…and why.

“Let me help you with that.” She says, moving closer to him and crouching down at the same time that he does. Wonwoo is spurting out a short laugh as he hears whom he thinks is called Junhui pull Pierre away from the library.

“I’m sorry. I’m a total mess.”

“Or really observative. Guess we’ll never know.” She shrugs, smiling at him when standing up with a pack of books pressed to her chest and the lingering scent of mints following after her.

“Witty.”

“I’m a woman. One has to be.” The answer that leaves her lips has him grinning like a fool, looking down only to be blinded by her sight when staring up again. “I’ll give you a discount just for that.”

“There’s no need—”

The pocket of his jeans is filled by her hand, sliding something quickly there before she’s fleeting away with a simple: “Just take it.”

Half of his mind thinks she has left her number there, and he’d be more than happy. However, Sandara is looking over his shoulder by the time he takes the paper out, viewing a small coupon with clouds drawn all over it that reads off ‘fifty percent off your next order’.

“Dang, I thought it was her number.” Sandara whispers, snapping her fingers. “I’m going to get it for you.”

“No!” Wonwoo shrieks, plastering his hand on top of her arm and dragging his manager closer. “We’re…we’re just going to take the coupon. This is supposed to be a vacation. No love involved.”

“No love involved…” Sandara repeats, laughing at his words. “We’re calling your autobiography that. That’s for sure.”

Huh, even he admits it wouldn’t be a bad name. Much more if it was a rom-com of sorts.

But that’s not going to happen.

The sky looked like a child’s portrait, painted outside the lines. The stars blurred in between the deep shade, though he knew it could be that he needed a new pair of glasses. He kind of forgot his new formula back in Hollywood, and the ones he got were bought on a whim. However, he walks through the empty, too-small streets of the villa, hands fisted in pockets, trying to understand the change of weather. It was windy, but it was a kind of humidity that made him scrunch up his nose every once in a while to sniff a bit of snot.

Allergies. It’s whatever.

Wonwoo rolls on the heels of his shoes, looking up at the sky and wondering why the world feels so unlit as of lately. He’s at peace, but running away from something. Empty. Lonely. And sure, he has gotten used to solitude, at least for now, but what was once something he chose is now the only option that he gets to fulfill. Cornered, in some place far away from home, where he can only wish for life to be different, for better or for worse.

What interests him is the shout he hears after, a commotion of a solid against iron that has him rushing his step the slightest. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared to run or go help, but what he sees at eleven at night—when he should be asleep and trying to conceal a good night of rest with a warm glass of milk, as Sandara said—is rather surprising. The owner of Somewhere In The Clouds, a library that he has visited often in this past week, stands in front of a house’s gate, forehead pressed to the iron, hitting her boot against the surface once again.

“Shit.”

She looks rather different than she does with the pastel colors she wears at her library. Wonwoo has seen her a bit, with faint glances and a few exchanged words of good books and prices, but he has never fully developed a conversation. One that matters. Right now, he wishes he was braver, for the expanse of her back is shown in jeans that are falling off her waist and he swears he sees the hairs on her arms stand up upon the breeze that he can’t understand but seems to cherish her in shivers.

“This is all Pierre’s fault!”

She screams at the world, the sky, the heavens that decided divorce was meant to be on her side. But, instead of leaving it at that, she grabs a rock from the ground, molds it on her fist before throwing it at something. Something being Wonwoo, who shrieks at the touch of the rock against his cheekbone. Gasps mingle with the weight of her steps against the pavement when she rushes to him, shouting:

“Goodness gracious! I am so sorry!”

Wonwoo feels the warmth of her skin against his own, palms connected to him in the least delicate of ways, thumb and index finger tracing the cheekbone that must flourish with the tone of roses. However, when he opens his eyes, he realizes that her own hold a weight that he can’t understand. As if every speckle of golden that brims the natural color of them anchors him to a dilemma that he should not want to solve.

“I…I totally didn’t see you there. It’s all the gate’s fault.” She says, only to have Wonwoo clasping her hands on his own, pulling them away from his face softly.

“Where’s your key?”

“My ex-husband took the spare key and now that I left my keys inside, I don’t know what to do.” Her digits wrap around the gate once again, moving it from the front to the back in a motion that causes it to noisily make its state known. Closed as ever. “This is what happens when I decide to have a great time. Jun just…he just wanted to share some mojitos and now, I’m out here, probably a step away from sleeping in the cold.”

Wonwoo chuckles to himself, pondering: “And you’re telling all this to a stranger?”

“You’re not completely a stranger. Judging by your book selection, I can tell a lot about you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, beautiful as ever in the way the wind blows at her hair and connects it with the skin of her face. And on top of it all, she remembers who he is. “You’re not a complete asshole, and that’s enough for me to tell you that this fucking night sucks.”

Tipsy, she is, and Wonwoo chuckles at her antics softly. He remembers, before stardom, how he used not to give a damn about the world, quite like she does. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” He crouches down, caging his hands together to make a socket for her to place her feet on. “You’ll step here and I’ll get you up the gate.”

He shouldn’t be thinking about doing this. For God’s sake, she’s not in her right mind considering there are, at least, three mojitos in her system, and she must think the same because she shakes her head.

“Wonwoo, I’ll crush you.”

“Or you’ll get home safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I didn’t just decide to squat in the middle of the street.”

She rolls her eyes at his words, though a smile transcends to her features. She moves with carefulness, placing one boot on top of his hand and then, the other leg lifts up to follow after the trail of the gate. Wonwoo’s eyes go down her legs and he admits he does peek at the curves that form there, but soon after, he’s more worried about the way she’s clinging to the top of the gates to pass over it.

“Help.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wonwoo mutters, hoisting her up in his shoulders before pushing her upwards by the back of her thighs. She clings to the metal with strength, only dropping herself when she feels safe, and though she lands directly on her ass, the thud is soft enough for him to ponder that maybe, it didn’t hurt her as much. “You okay?”

“In one piece, so…okay!” The smile that spreads across her features is worth a million dollars, and Wonwoo finds himself gravitating towards her, hands expanded on the gate, separated by the mere iron. He returns the grin, because a gift so beautiful can only be given back, right? “What are you doing out at this time of the night?”

Midnight, it strikes in the imaginary clock. He hasn’t checked his phone because he knows he’ll have missed calls from a sleep-dazed Sandara who wants him to return back to the place they rented for their time there. “Jet-lag has been killing me, and I just needed some time alone to think.”

“Jet-lag? Where are you visiting us from?” Leaning on the gate, her eyes close to slightest to rest, and Wonwoo knows soon will be time for him to leave.

“California.”

“Well, hope my villa traps you a bit longer.” She announces, yawning into her fist before smacking her lips together.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“Possibly, probably, maybe. All synonyms. All right.” Once again, that smile that could paralyze traffic if she dared is given to him, but she pushes herself off the gate. “Sorry for stepping on you.”

“No problem.”

“A free book will wait for you.”

“I can totally pay the next one I’ll buy, don’t worry.”

“Never deny a librarian the benefit of giving you a book.” She announces, pointing at him as she swings towards the door. “Wait, the front door is locked, too.”

She stops on her tracks and Wonwoo is ready to stay the night seated outside the gate, just in case someone causes trouble to her, for leaving a woman alone in the middle of the night is not precisely something he is thinking of doing, but when he opens his mouth, she’s already pushing the front window upwards.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting in through the window.”

“I’m not telling you, I’m showing you.” She announces and, for the first time in a while, Wonwoo full on laughs. He doesn’t remember feeling his chest so tightly put-together in a while. The more he sees her wiggle herself through the window, the more he cackles.

“Please, be careful.”

“I am!” And she is, waiving at him once she’s through the window, hair done a mess, shirt falling off one shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Hollywood.”

“Go to sleep, you.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The nickname, strangely, doesn’t settle badly in his stomach. Much less when he gets to see her turn off the lights and doze off to God-knows-where.

Wonwoo has made common occurrence for him to start a new book every Monday. He was on a reading strike for years, only yearning to find the next story he could act in, but it’s much different now. Much more after he decided to accept the book that the librarian had, oh-so-sweetly, decided to gift him.

The story read in utmost perfection. A thriller that chilled him to the bone and cradled him in fear late at night. Something different; and hell, maybe, he’s a little bit insane for wanting to feel something other than anxiousness. All he does is read the pages that week, weakened by the figure at the end of the road, in between clouds of smoke that the book always talks about. Is it real? Is it not? And why does the book end in a way that caused him to drop all the things that were on his hands as he was reading, perched in a boat in the middle of the lake near the library?

He dropped the damned book. He needed to return it. The worst possible outcome happened, because the moment Wonwoo decided to pluck it out of the water, the pages were torn, ink shredded, heart racing within his chest.

He runs away for a while. Escapes the library in hopes of her thinking that he’s just taking a little bit more to finalize the capturing pages of a well-written text. However, life isn’t so great when the next Wednesday, he comes face to face with her. She’s not in her work clothes, hair pulled away by a hair-clip, eyes a little drowsy with sleep as remaining pieces of her mascara cling to her eyelashes. Her hands hold a bag of groceries weakly, a little bit lazily, and while Wonwoo is trying to grab a snack to continue his Wednesday movie marathon—You’ve Got Mail is paused on his screen because he just wanted something salty—, he comes face-to-face with her.

Alright, the anxiousness is back.

“Do I terrify you?”

Wonwoo fixes his glasses, crossing his arms over his chest. Magazines would have torn him apart from the plaid shirt he is wearing today, antique and brought out of a film from the early nineties. He stammers. Gosh, when was the last time someone made him stutter? “Uhm, no?”

“You haven’t gone back to the library, and I’m not certain if it was because I gave you a thriller book or if it was because you saw me drunk out of my ass.” She’s speaking rather quickly, scoffing out a laugh that dies down soon after, rubbing the back of her neck out of nervousness. “I’m sorry. Uh…I must’ve looked like a total serial killer giving you a thriller book.”

The book. What can he say about the book? “Not at all. It was one of the best books I’ve read in a while.” He admits. Too bad it is in the depths of the ocean by now.

“I’ll give it to you, then. The copy, I mean.” She shrugs her shoulders, biting on her bottom lip and staying silent for a brief second that he takes to study her face. Something about her is always rushing; as if she can’t stay still for too long in fear of being caught. By life or someone else, he doesn’t know. Or catching feelings, like he musters could happen if he doesn’t get away soon.

“I wish I could read it again.”

“Then, do it.”

“…I accidentally dropped it in the local lake.” Wonwoo whispers, expecting her to get mad, but she extends a hand on top of her chest and starts laughing. “I—I’m sorry. The ending surprised me that much. Stupid hands.”

“I imagine. I imagine.” She hums, mimicking his pose and crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you making it up to me, Mr. Hollywood?”

He’s knowledgeable in the art of flirting. Not because he has mastered it, but rather because Wonwoo is the one of the being-flirted-on end. He must be reading into it, but the twinkle in her eye incites him, bringing him closer as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Anything in mind, Mrs. Countryside?”

“Ew, I don’t know why I don’t like the sound of that.” She enunciates, only to have him laughing. He sees the portions of her that are fractured, from the way she covers her mouth when laughing, to the slow blink she gives after a minute of silence. As if she wants to be awakened by her thoughts. “Mhm, how about burgers?”

“Burgers?” Wonwoo asks. “That’s what would make you forgive me?”

“A great burger can make me consider forgiving you.” She answers, pressing a hand to his shoulder to balance her weight as she takes her phone out of her pocket. “Write your number down there.”

Wonwoo jots down the digits that he has learned just the past few days, smiling at her. “Alright, you’ve got a free coupon for limitless burgers until we find a book as good as that one.”

“You don’t know what you’re promising.”

“Possibly. But it’s an excuse. Either we find the greatest burger or another good read.”

“Huh, you’re right.” With that, she puts her phone back in her pocket, smiling at him with her full teeth. “I’ll text you for my price.”

“Anytime.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking after her step after she left. How someone so gorgeous hid in such a secluded villa? He would never understand.

The Headlock For Two Challenge.

When Wonwoo ventured into one of the best rated burger places in the villa, he didn’t expect it to be…so simple. Wooden walls and heated tables in bright red, with towers of meat and chicken stacked with perfectly-spiced veggies and sauces that would mingle into one’s tongue for an entire day. She seemed to be impressed when he linked her over to this place only three days after they started talking through text, but she was equally as interested when she read about the challenge in the menu that was presented to them in a small piece of wood, carved letter after letter, honoring the toughness of the place.

“We can totally down this one between the two of us.” She turns the menu around, showing it to a wide-eyed Wonwoo. When he sees the picture, he doubts they can for a little bit. His glasses push his hair away from his face when he takes them off to check it out a little closely. Three layers of bread. This is final—he might die if he takes up on this challenge.

“What’s the price?”

“The burger is a price on its own.” Claiming, she turns the menu around once again before clearing her throat. “We’d also get a picture of us hanging from these very own walls, and, if that’s not a lot on its own—a grand price of a month-worth of free French Fries.”

“You bought me with the fries. I’m not much of a picture guy.”

He has gotten pictures of him taken from every angle and while he adored to catch a sight of the world from another point of view, he hates the way he has been portrayed in such imagery. He’s always perfect. Never himself. And yet, never enough.

“Waiter!” She lifts a hand in the air, catching the attention of the short man with the buttons of his shirt almost popping out from how closely it clings to his belly, but the smile he gives through plump cheeks and a dense moustache would have anyone trusting him with their orders. “We’d like to take over the challenge.”

“Oh, really?” The waiter starts jotting down on his notepad. “A group of men tried to take it down a few days ago. Couldn’t make it without throwing up.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wonwoo asks and he sees her spread a hand on her stomach.

“I meant it when I said I was hungry.”

“Fine. And two glasses of cola with that, please.”

“On our merry way, sir.” The waiter gives a sharp touch of his pen against the pad before closing it and leaving to the kitchen. This is the moment he gets to see her again, closely as she lifts the sleeves of his yellow sweater up to her palms and leans her cheek against one of them, elbows well-prepped on the table.

She tried a little today. He has been under the limelight for long enough to know that there is a glimmer of pink on top of her cheeks, paired with sweet highlighter. She has a red lip on, eyelashes curled until they seem like her eyes are flirting with him just by sharing a glance.

“Why here, Wonwoo?” She asks. “You were in California. Everyone dreams about being there, around celebrities and all. Why here?”

The column of his throat contracts at her words. He almost fears that she has caught him for who he really is—a well-known actor.

“Take my word for it. There’s nothing special there.”

“You’re awfully negative, aren’t you? Here we are, in a villa that no one knows, where the lake could eat me alive one day and no one would remember me, but in a city so grand, where every step someone takes feel like part of a movie, you wish to run away.” She’s babbling, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Isn’t that exciting to you?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Wonwoo adds. “Because in a city so big, only a few people are remembered. We don’t choose what we are remembered for, either.”

“Oh, trust me,” She says. “You’d be remembered by good. Everyone in this city coos about the possibilities of you.”

“And that’s the thing. I don’t like expectation.”

“I understand.” She stops. “So, reason—?”

“I’m negative, but you’re good at prodding.”

“I was once a journalist in the making, but I ramble too much. I’d get in front of a camera and freeze, or say something really stupid. Probably both.” She conquers, sighing into her hand. “But you don’t have to answer, actually. I just want to get to know you. You could ask me something of your liking, too.”

He could ask about her library, but they have talked about that through text. He knows that it’s a family’s tree doing, where she loved literature and happened to continue down the road that was crafted for her. A place that was meant for her to walk on, but the wood on the floor was not precisely brought to life by her.

“Why didn’t it work out with your ex-husband?”

The reason why he left California is, perhaps, as personal as her divorce. She doesn’t swallow thickly, but she is left thinking for a moment, looking ahead and towards where he is, before the waiter returns with the burger in his hands and three glasses filled with a yellow, pink and white sauce.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.” Wonwoo compliments, only to have the waiter nodding.

“We start the timer now. Thirty minutes to finish all of this.” Just as he clicks the clock, she takes the half of the enormous burger and places it on her plate, and while he gives it a huge bite that fills his mouth and leaves his jaw hurting, she eats it bit by bit, plucking the food and swallowing it quickly.

“Probably my best kept secret.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “I was promised until death, and then, I realized living one more day with him would be the cause of my death. It’s like…being pricked little by little, being married.”

“In general?”

“To him, precisely. Pierre has his own issues to figure out. He has…these experiences that he wants to go through in love. He wants to try with other people. And I wasn’t going to wait there, watching him mindlessly flirt with people, asking me if I’d ever been with more than one person, until I was finally hurt by something I expected.” She motions, sighing. “And now he’s trying to come back, so maybe, he already tried and thought returning home was the solution of the mess he made.”

“That’s pretty common. I happen to never last more than two months with somebody.” Wonwoo cackles at his own state in relationships, moving his head from side to side. “For a while I thought it was me.”

“How so?”

“Uncapable of being loved, if that makes sense.” Wonwoo announces. “I’ve never tried hard enough to make someone stay.”

“So, you’re the complete opposite of me. I have a hard time letting go.”

“I have a hard time making someone stay.” The mingle of tastes inside his mouth makes him wonder if she just wanted an excuse for them to try something good and new, not precisely break a challenge. Make herself memorable. Or maybe, that’s just her personality. Not everyone has to be trying all the time. “It probably is me.”

“Everyone has their little glimpses of red in their flag.” She jokes, tilting her head to the side when Wonwoo groans. “But hey, I’m a divorced woman, who am I to judge?”

“So, California…stinks a little bit, feels way more dense than this villa does, and it just…it reminds me of who I could’ve been. And who I am not, clearly.”

“Well, Wonwoo,” She picks up a portion of her burger, dipping it in what he thinks is corn sauce, before lifting it up in the air. “Cheers to that. We can be remembered for the picture we’ll have hanging here later this night.”

“Not at this pace.”

“Just say ‘yes’ for once. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

She could teach him that life is not filled with ‘no’ responses all the time.

Wonwoo thought the following times they’d see each other; they wouldn’t have any interruptions. However, much to his distaste, the moment he steps inside her house for what she called through the text ‘dinner and a movie’, there was another person invited.

The library’s worker, Wen Junhui, is not commonly known by him, but he has heard wonders about the man around town. As it goes, no one could ever tame him. Not from going around dating, but from being less eccentric. He sits in front of the TV they could have been using, holding fried chicken in between his digits after dipping it in barbeque, and he’s watching some Steve Harvey show that he is not quite sure he’d getting a glimpse of before. Too old for his liking, maybe.

“We have…companionship.” Wonwoo whispers to her, feeling the weight of her hands glide down his arms as she takes off his jacket. When he turns around, he sees her hanging the jacket, running her palms over it to keep it straight before humming.

“I didn’t know we had some either, but I totally promise Jun movie night every Friday. I can’t just kick him out. Or I can. But like, look at his face,” She points a hand towards Jun, who is still munching happily and laughing at whatever the host of the show had said. “One can’t just break a heart that easily. At least, his.”

Wonwoo can accept that Jun, while wearing a tank top and shorts, looks entirely different. A bit childish, with his bangs pushed back by a small clip, eating to his heart’s content. “I’m not saying you should kick him out.”

“But you had the hope it would be the two of us.”

“Awfully conceited, woman, don’t you think?” Wonwoo jokes around, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-grin. He’s normally not a sweet talker, but he’ll take the merit he can.

“Anyone would want to spend alone time with me.” One of her shoulders shrugs up, the structures of her face fighting their hardest to let out a smile. “Would you want some water, coffee, tea, juice, cocktail? I don’t know how to make cocktails, but I can fetch something up.”

“None.”

“Oh, maybe some energy drink, perhaps? Or, oh shit, you’re from Hollywood, maybe you’d like sparkly water, or bubbly water…”

“Trust me, we have normal water in Hollywood. I think.” He leans down to fix her hair over her shoulder, jotting his chin towards the TV. “Are we ordering something else or we’re sharing chicken with Jun?”

“He will notice there are only two pieces left in a few minutes and order some for everyone, so we just wait.” With that, she walks ahead of him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to snuggle to the density of her white sweater, or that he’s not a bit enamored of the way her thighs fill the ripped jeans around her hips. She’s unique—so homely in a way that he hates he can feel that a little more time with her could end up in him in love.

“Wonwoo!” Jun speaks through a mouthful and in the month that he’s been there, he has gotten to know him a bit. The man is as sweet as one can get, but he’s also a bit odd. “I didn’t know you were coming. Do you want some—?” He stops on his tracks when extending the takeout bag towards Wonwoo, looking down at…yes, two pieces of chicken left. “Let me grab my phone,” He speaks after plopping his thumb in his mouth to lick the remaining sauce off. “And order something else.”

“Told you so.” She mouths after sitting down next to Jun, who is in between them like a child would. “Would you mind ordering a pizza? I think that’d last us some more than the chicken.”

“Oh, totally. There’s a two-for-one coupon in my phone case.” Jun is mumbling to himself, tossing glances towards the TV screen every once in a while before returning to his phone.

“I’ll pay for it. Don’t worry.” Wonwoo announces, but Jun shakes his head.

“The whole coupon thing is true—”

“But I want to pay, let me.”

That’s how they end up watching old marathons of family shows, with one hand holding a slice of pepperoni-filled pizza and the other on the couch behind them as they sit on the couch. When he can, he looks over to where she is and he catches her looking back, with eyelashes fluttering against her under-eyes and lips mingling in a small smile. He’s a bit surprised, however, when Jun is rambling with him about nineties shows, because a hand lands on his behind her friend’s back.

The touch of gentle fingertips hold back when tracing the outline of his knuckles, hesitantly slipping in between his own. Wonwoo feels his heart hammer against his chest, a beat that almost leaves him with ringing in his eardrums, for the blood rushes through his entire body until he can’t mask a smile. And sure, Jun may think that he’s smiling towards him, immersed in a conversation that now is a stammer in his head, considering her thumb is drawing on the veins of his wrist, like the gentle kiss she is not promising, but is making him think about.

In the midst of a villa, Wonwoo starts thinking about possibilities, and percentages have never been his thing more than art does, but the interlude of this story starts to make him think about staying. When Jun leans to grab another slice of pizza, Wonwoo takes this moment to bring that hand closer to his mouth, slotting his lips against her knuckles and watching her widen her eyes while staring at the screen.

Their little secret, now even more engraved in his brain by the expression on her face.

The inhibition of love is a saddened matter. Wonwoo never thought he’d be on the end spectrum of not being able to fully open up. After all, acting takes up the imagery of shredding every portion of himself in order to make a character come alive. He needs to unalive his motions in order to be someone else in front of a camera. However, when laying on that bed of his, in his place in the villa, that had felt more like home than any mansion could ever do for him, he is awfully aware of the person next to him.

“Do you have…um…any idea why I call you Mr. Hollywood?”

The question is soft against the sheets. She’s laying on her side, knee angled until she is almost resting a thigh over his hip. Wonwoo shakes his head, turning his head to look at her from up close. She has forgone the makeup today, hair a bit dirty and laying on top of her head by a ponytail. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring back at her.

“You didn’t answer.”

“Oh, I thought I did.” Wonwoo mumbles, trailing a finger on the side of her face before shrugging. “I have no clue. Anything in particular I should be aware about?”

Wonwoo, when asking to spend time with her almost every day, is knowledgeable of the fact that she’s a very smart woman. However, as the night slips through his clear curtains, cascading along her features in the moonlit nature of a November midnight, his mind forgets the fact that he’s Jeon Wonwoo, and that maybe, his stigma as a person is harder to hide than he thought.

“…I saw you in a movie once.” The confession has his heart hammering against his chest, and he sits up immediately. Not angered, but terrified. Afraid of being used for what is always loved about him—his power, love for acting, his money. “I want you to listen to me, okay? You’ve been here for almost two months and I feel like…it’s time to tell you something. Nothing bad. Just something.”

“You talked to me because of me being an actor?”

“God, no. I didn’t want to talk to you for the same thing. You terrified the hell out of me.” She says, sitting up with him and pressing a hand to his thigh in order to keep him in place. Her eyes beg him to stay close and somehow, he does. Though the alarms in his mind tell him to fleet. “You still do, but for different reasons. I saw you in this movie…Stay With Me? The one where you played a secondary character. The main guy’s best friend. I didn’t recall enough about the movie, but I knew that face. I thought you were…good looking. That’s all. I’m not a fan.”

“That’s a very old film.” It was in the start of his career, when rom-coms would call him just to play the knowledgeable best friend. He has the face of a man who knows how to give advice, they told him. “So, you call me Mr. Hollywood because you know who I really am outside of these walls I’ve built to run away?”

“To remind me you’ll leave, I guess.” She sighs out, running her free hand through the locks of her ponytail. “Calling you Mr. Hollywood reminds me you’re…you know, somehow unreachable.”

“Gosh, I am not!”

“Come on, Wonwoo. I’m just a woman who happens to sell books for a living. Each day, I wake up to a bed on my own, wondering what kind of legacy I’ll leave in this world, but I am also timid enough to not want to be remembered. And it’s the paradigm of being…just somebody else. I won’t be listed as one of the most gorgeous women, neither one of the most talented, but I can reassure you…Wonwoo, anywhere you stand, as an actor or not, you’re special.”

He has seen love in scripts, written to be perfection, clouds of pink that cascade the fall of a person who would have never thought romance would be on their way. He has acted it out, softened eyes and sweet words that come with the clash of lips, but he doesn’t expect how love really feels like. Numbed out of every word that could make him feel insecure, trapped in the odyssey of wanting a kiss that has him leaning forward, capturing her face in his palms and looking into her eyes, not seeking softness, but the reassurance of something else. Of the feedback of warmth.

“And I am just a man who wants you to see him as he is. Hollywood or not.”

“I see you, Wonwoo.” She mumbles, and that’s enough for Wonwoo to lean forward. Fill her with a kiss that threatens to whimper in her mouth when her mouth parts and clashes against his.

Wonwoo feels complete, like a thread follows after him and whispers in his mouth everything he wants to hear without a noise at all. Her hands mingle on the back of his head, legs interlocking with his own. And he hates that even when he is kissing her with fervor; tracing the outline of lips that he wishes to remember to the day of his death, there is still a voice of insecurity.

He leans back on the bed, with her body trailing after his, settling a leg in between his own and pulling away to press a chaste kiss to his jaw, soon after pressing her mouth to his neck. Both of his hands expand on her back, under her shirt to feel the softness of her skin when he whispers:

“Could you please turn off your phone?”

“Excuse me?” She questions, only to have Wonwoo shaking his head.

“I…I got some pictures taken of me. I was intimate with a woman I used to date on-and-off and now…everyone has a picture I didn’t consent to of me in my boxers.” Confessing it has his cheeks blaring in heat, and he expects her to laugh. “And sure, you may think it’s stupid, but—”

She settles her hips on top of his, sitting and reaching for her phone in the bedside table, only to show the screen turning off to him. “It’s not stupid to me. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, I can consider.”

“Where were you my whole life?” Wonwoo asks, feeling her mouth return to his neck. And she laughs against his skin, drawing sparkling stars in his stomach and letting them tingle with…whatever feeling he’s starting to let cascade over him.

“Far, far away.”

“But I found you.”

“…You found me.” She interlocks their hands together, smiling at him. “Thank God, you found me.”

“What is this?”

Sandara positions three things on their coffee table in a specific order. A cup of coffee, with a savory smell of Bailey’s that he has been obsessed with every since he tried it on a café shop downtown. A croissant, with an extra layer of powdered sugar on top of it, and of course, what takes him off guard. A stack of papers, placed neatly like a script would. He picks up his coffee, giving it a taste even though he’s eyeing the paper, not touching it.

“Well, we’ve been here for almost three months…” Sandara sits down on the couch next to him. Her hair is shorter than how it had been when they got there, and she has dyed it back to a light brown. She moves it to a side on its entirety before pressing her knuckle to her cheek. “I think it’s time we start to think of a comeback. I was introduced to this idea where you’d star with Cillian Murphy, and I just couldn’t say no. You’re totally reading it.”

Acting is a prolongation of his anatomy. Wonwoo can’t exist without acting, but taking a break has never hurt anybody. He believes that most good actors take one in their lifetime. However, being pushed into stardom once again it’s not something he had thought about. Or he has, but he has always pushed it to the back of his head. That would mean going back to Hollywood, casting interviews where he’ll have to talk about the whole photo incident, perhaps take up on that Calvin Klein campaign that Sandara was so excited about…and that all sounds like a ton of work.

“You didn’t ask me about this.” Wonwoo announces, but Sandara is already placing the script right on top of his lap, pointing at it with a manicured nail. “Sandara—”

“I didn’t ask you, but you need to continue, Woo.” She says. “You’re one of the biggest talents of this generation and you’re throwing it all to Hell because of a picture? No. That’s the answer. We’re not letting that happen. We’re going to meet the team the following Monday and Cillian is going to be there. We can read over some—”

“What?” Wonwoo stands up, throwing the script on the table and shaking his head. “I didn’t consent on going back to Hollywood.”

“Wonwoo, it’s where you’ve grown to be the person you are today. You can’t escape it forever.”

“Yes, but I also don’t have to return just because you’re telling me to. It’s more complicated than that.” Hence, he has spent almost every day sharing kisses, touches, stories and whispers with a woman that he has promised is not temporary. It’s been almost a month since they shared their first kiss…and from then, they have fallen into the comfort of…

A relationship, maybe. That’s what he calls it inside his head, but he’s too afraid to voice it. For reasons as such, like this, when he will need to fly away to Hollywood just because reality is calling.

“They are offering millions of dollars for this, and Wonwoo, you’re going to miss acting eventually. I’m sure you do now, as you are standing here every morning just reading books and doing nothing.”

“Healing is not doing nothing.” Wonwoo corrects, and when he tosses a look at the script, he can admit he is a bit intrigued. How can a person be both here and there at the same time? How can the man he has grown to be in the villa meet the celebrity that he really is?

“Just read it. We both know you want to.”

“And then, what? I never come back here. I have a…someone, a girlfriend, maybe, and I don’t want to leave that behind.”

“I’m not—Just don’t get ahead of yourself. Think first about what you want to do and sure, if it’s staying here for a while more, I’ll accept it. But this is such a good film that is going to rise from the ashes and I want you to be part of it. You need to. It’d be iconic, Wonwoo, I swear.”

Does he want to be remembered by everyone as the actor who could do it all, battle against the tabloids and shine as one of the best performers of the generation? Or perhaps, does he want to be remembered by one person as the man who mended her heart after not wanting to believe in anyone because of a horrid break-up?

“I’ll think about it.” He feels bad about saying it and sitting down with that coffee and croissant to read the first page. “Just leave me alone for a while, will you?”

“Right.” Sandara presses a kiss to the crown of his head, patting the hair soon after. “I’m only doing it for you, I swear.”

“I know.”

That’s the only whisper he can muster to give her as he traces the outline of the title. The ink, the indents, the fresh paper…he misses this, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel ready to return to the emptiness that is felt when going through stardom. He’s enamored of reality, and that isn’t supposed to be a sin.

The more he reads the script, the more he likes it…and he starts to wonder if there are two men living inside of him, or if there is one that perseveres more than the other.

Molding against somebody’s body is a connection on its own. Wonwoo could get used to the dance of breathing that comes with laying next to somebody, when his chest connects to her back, arm weighting her waist down, chin squished to her shoulder. However, this morning is different. They don’t wake up to the sound of her alarm but to something else. His ears make out a noise that is familiar to him.

Flashes.

Clicking.

Shouts.

His name.

Her name.

Why do they know her name?

Wonwoo stands up, breathing quickly with the flaming hope of only being in a nightmare. However, the coldness of the floor seeps through his bare feet when he moves towards the window, moving the curtain to the side in order to see a herd of paparazzi standing outside of her home. Jun is in front of them, waving his hand like an idiot and posing for the camera. Quite like the characters in White Chicks would.

“Love, where are you going?” She’s mumbling against the pillow and for a moment, all Wonwoo sees is white. He feels let down by the woman waiting for him in the mattress. How could they have found him here, when he has gone months to no end completely unnoticed by the citizens? And Jun is enjoying the attention, that has to say something.

“Nowhere. I am unable to go anywhere because there are fucking paparazzi in your front yard.” Wonwoo lurks through the clothes left on the floor, running the fabric of a cotton t-shirt over his body and sighing in distaste. He’s walking from side to side in the bedroom. The paparazzi will only leave when he gets out of that door, after all.

“What?”

“Just tell me the truth. When did you call them? I was with you the entire night.” Wonwoo points out the obvious, placing his hands in his waist and frowning towards her. Her eyes widen and he swears he sees the little, fragile glass that she has within her chest playing as a heart breaking with one look alone. “You did exactly what everyone did before you—”

“Fuck, Wonwoo, what are you even saying? I would never do that to you!” She stands up and though he wants to believe her, he has heard that before. She’s walking towards him, sheets pressed to her chest, pleading at him with her vision alone. “Let me see.”

“No!” He shouts, taking her by the arm and keeping her away from the window. “If they take a picture of you, it’ll be everywhere in a second.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how t—these things work.” She stutters, pressing her hand on top of his and trying to rub at the skin there. “Wonwoo, you have to believe me. I would never betray your trust like this.”

“Your roomie is out there making a show out of this.”

“Jun would never, either! He’s probably just enjoying the attention.”

“My God.” Wonwoo takes another glimpse out of the window, feeling his eyes get filled with tears. “How…How am I supposed to believe you when it all ends like this? Another scandal. I don’t deserve to be in the highlights of a magazine once again!”

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles, trying to catch him in her arms but he’s moving. Walking out of the bedroom, he goes down the set of slim stairs as he prepares to go through the masses of paparazzi and perhaps, lose himself in the process of stardom once again. Vacant answers, eye-rolls, and the undignified tilt of his head looking down because of the flashes and the lack of sincerity towards his self. “I don’t want you to leave. I’m—I’ll go with you, just let me get dressed and I’ll talk to them with the truth. They just need to know who you really are.”

“You truly believe that being sincere is what helps me here?” Wonwoo turns around, looking down at her and scoffing. “Sunshine, I’ve tried to be sincere in a world where they only want to see my worse and I expected you to understand that.”

“…You know, I’m starting to feel offended that you don’t believe me. I understand you, but I would never do this to you.” Wonwoo sighs at her words, sparing one good look at her face. He will miss the shared laughter and even more so the love that she had gifted to him without nothing in return. Nothing more than loving her back.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience in your home.” Wonwoo says, putting on his jacket and his sunglasses before turning around and nodding at her. “And thank you for giving me the benefit of loving you.”

“Wonwoo—”

He opens the door in a hassle, eager for paparazzi not to see her in her pajamas and shred her to pieces. Jun greets him happily, offering him a cup of coffee that he ignores as he walks through the masses. The cameras go wilder for him, asking him questions:

“Where is your new love?!”

“When are you returning to Hollywood?!”

“Is she aware of your soft-porn pictures?!”

“Is this the end of your career?”

At this last question, he turns around, grabbing the microphone from the journalist’s hand and adding: “I don’t know, you’ll be the judge of that.” With that, he gets inside his car, hands trembling as he years to get out of there. They will follow after him, but the best he can do is reach Sandara and hope that she can take care of it.

With a broken heart and his wheels swirling, Wonwoo gets out of her life for good.

And he doesn’t look back.

For twenty-one days, she curses believing in love again. Even so, she starts to ponder if she should take out the entirety of the romance shelf off her library, but Jun is the one to stop her before she wiped out the best-selling row of their plethora of books. A fraction of her being understood where Wonwoo was coming from, and maybe, that’s the reason that upon hearing he’d be holding a press conference in a city nearby her own, she decided to go give it a glimpse. Perhaps, be another fan that just happened to get a little too close to the star.

“You’re losing your damn mind.” Jun says when following after her, entering the crowds of people that mingle to get a glimpse of Wonwoo as he’s expected to enter one of the most popular hotels in the city. “And I’m starting to like it. You’ve never acted like this before.”

“Jun!” She drags, a little mortified that she’s here. She has tried contacting Wonwoo, but the last thing she heard about him is that he had taken a plane back to Hollywood. She was even a bit surprised that he had come back. Everyone was trying to deduce who was the one that had captured him for three months in some secluded villa that no one had been able to find him in, but the masses of rumors were met by silence from his team as they announced his new film. “I shouldn’t even be here. He hates me, and for pictures that I wasn’t even in.”

“And I finally got the number of the girl in the supermarket because she saw me on TV. One of us is winning, so that makes two of us winning.” Sometimes, she wishes to pluck each hair of Jun’s head one by one only to see if he has a proper adult reaction. However, her best friend wraps an arm around her shoulder, grinning at her. “Are you sure you want to be around here? I looked up the best places to visit around here and we can totally go. It wouldn’t be on vain either.”

“I want to see him. One last time.” She ponders, humming at his words. Though, she has to scream a bit, considering the fans are going crazy, talking within themselves about the announcements he was supposed to be making today. “You know, maybe I can pluck him out of my heart that way.”

Though, that thought completely vanishes when looking at him. Wonwoo has decided to wear a long brown coat, sunglasses propped on the tip of his nose, getting out of a limousine as two guards help him get through the groups of people. A black shirt enters his black slacks, accentuating the waist she’d rest her cheek on when hugging him from the side as he poured coffee for her in the early mornings. She had lost that, along with the smile that characterized him when being with her. Though, she can say it had been taken away from both of them.

They are placed in a corner of the grand room in the hotel that is supposed to be taken up by Wonwoo and his team. He’s seated on a table, well perched and high on the stage, with Sandara on one side and another man whom she does not recognize on the other, but he’s making sure that the microphone is working well. The fans, such as them, are on the side to support him as the journalists take up most of the space.

Like parasites, she realizes, when the interview starts to enroll.

It’s supposed to be a press conference to announce the return of Wonwoo to acting and stardom, but they have made it all about the pictures that months ago had reached a magazine because of his ex…situationship, and also included glimpses of her. Of the mysterious woman whom he can’t find words, for he chooses other questions and gets shouts from the journalists who want more from him. He does admit to have signed a contract for a film, and she’s entranced in the way he speaks about the plot and what he wishes out of it.

A woman in her forties stands up, heels clicking when she plots her hip to the side, grabbing the microphone in between her hands with expertise before adding: “We have gathered information and found out, Mr. Jeon, that you have lived in the villa for almost four months by now. Reading books, having coffee, just living the life of a man in his fifties while also being in your twenties. What was the reason to stay out of stardom for so long and do you wish to go back to it any time soon?”

Wonwoo is uncomfortable; she can tell by the way he wrings his hands and turns them pale after taking off his sunglasses. He’s rotting in between the sense of lying or being truthful to himself. However, before Sandara could say to ask another question, Wonwoo leans over the microphone and sighs.

“Because I…happened to meet people who made me want to stay, and I sadly did not have the chance to stay for longer.”

“How so?” The journalist keeps prodding now that he has answered, and Sandara takes up over the microphone.

“I think it’s time we cut this round off—”

Though, Wonwoo gently pushes her away, rubbing at one eye before clearing his throat. “Because, as an actor, I have played enough roles for people to visualize me as such. I wanted to be someone normal for once, and reading books, like you said, made me unite with the citizens around the villa. I—I would have stayed if I could, but…reality wants me here. This is who I am.”

That could be the finalization of them, and it should have been, but damn her for being stubborn and knowing precisely when a good person is leaving her life, because she places a hand on top of Jun’s shoulder and whispers in his ear:

“Hoist me up. I’m going over the gate and getting to him.”

“What?”

“I can’t let him leave like that. Not without knowing I love him, at least.”

“Alright. If you’re going to jail, I’m going with you.”

What a paradox, it is, that the start of their story included him helping her get over her own gate and now she does as such, earning gasps and shouts from the masses of people as the guards rush towards her and catch her just in time for her mouth to let out:

“I just—Hey, I just wondered, Mr. Jeon, if you’d like to hear something from one of the citizens!” She’s battling against the strong hands of the guards trying to drag her away, feet kicking and asking to be given a second by Wonwoo.

She swears she sees a smile creep up his features when he leans over the microphone once again and says: “Let her go. I know her.”

The strong pair of arms unravels from around her waist and she sighs out in glee before she’s granted a microphone. She fixes her hair, stands up a little straighter and hates the fact that she didn’t try to look better after twenty-one days of missing him. “I was wondering, Mr. Jeon, if there was anyone who would have made you stay in that villa if it weren’t for your duty calling you. If…if it hurt you leaving the villa at all.”

She should expect the worst, judging by the ways cameras start flashing and people start whispering within themselves. However, Sandara is talking in Wonwoo’s ear, eager to get him to say the right thing, but as they look at each other, they are back to the nights in which she’d ask him to turn off the lights because she didn’t want him to see her without makeup or sick and he’d shrug his shoulders without a care in the world. They are back to the first time he was able to sleep next to her without turning off all the phones in the house.

It’s just the two of them. Their world. Their villa. Their three months.

“…You. You are the only one who could make me stay.”

That’s what makes everyone talk louder, after the bead of silence that leads up to the grandest reveal. The cameras turn towards her and she’s afraid of how she’ll look after, but that won’t matter if Wonwoo returns…one day, even after the movie, even for the weekends or when he’s free.

“That’s…that’s lovely.” She says, looking up as not to feel shy or embarrassed by what she’s about to admit. “Because I want you to stay, Wonwoo.”

“Um, I think we need to return to the questions—” Sandara is speaking, but Wonwoo has lifted his eyebrows, smiling softly and standing up from his spot and going over to where she is. Each step slows down the closer he gets, and the guards move to his place in order not to have journalists or fans jumping at him.

“Before you say anything,” She starts, interlocking her hands together in front of her body. “I…I love you. I just need you to know that. I don’t need anything else right now.”

Wonwoo quirks his head to the side, cheeks blushed and hands fisted in his pocket. “Well, I was about to offer three months in Los Angeles to film a movie and then, back to our villa indefinitely but—”

“You have to be joking.” She coos with a smile on her face, but Wonwoo shakes his head.

“Pretty honest. I am characterized for being such, aren’t I?”

Before she knows it, she’s launching herself at his arms, lips jotted to his own and even though everyone is looking, she couldn’t care less.

Indefinitely. That starts to sound a lot like forever, and with him, that doesn’t seem impossible.

“I love you, too.” He whispers as she hides her face from the cameras in his jacket, laughing at his words.

dedicated to @wisteria-woo

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen #kpop scenarios #writing #actor!au #notting hill!au #and my return from writing after months be nice to it omg

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babyleostuff · 6 months

Text

THE NIGHT WE MET

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: the one where you meet a handsome stranger in the art gallery who is as beautiful as the paintings

[ pairing: idol!minghao x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2k

warnings: a couple of swear words ]

song recommendation: the night we met by lord huron

Your steps echoed through the empty hall, as you entered the last room of the building. It was too early for anyone to be rummaging through the art gallery, even for you. It seemed like the universe wanted you to be here, though. At least that's what you were telling yourself. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that school had been putting you in an emotional spiral for some time now and you wanted to be anywhere but there.

So, as usual, you ran away to the place you always knew would cheer you up.

Looking around the room filled with paintings all covered in beautiful pastel colours, depicting people who looked like they didn't have a single care in their lives, you stopped at your favourite, the biggest out of the collection. Every time you looked at it you felt a sense of peace and... carefree? You weren't sure why, but the girl on the swing looked so free, like she could do anything. Like she was truly happy.

You’d do anything to feel like she did for just a moment.

"Don't you think The Swing is a bit overrated?" You were so lost in thought that you didn't hear someone approaching you. You huffed, shaking your head. If he was going to insult the painting, why did he say anything at all? Jerk.

“I wouldn't say that,” you stated, not looking at the stranger. You could tell it was a guy and he sounded like he was around the same age as you, maybe a little older. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin, so you continued to stare at the painting.

He chuckled lightly, as if he sensed that you were annoyed, which made you dislike him even more. Why did he have to speak at all, couldn't he look at the painting and just walk away like any other normal person?

"What do you like so much about it, then?"

"And what about it bothers you so much?" You muttered. A moment of silence passed and you started to wonder if you weren't being too harsh. "I'm sorry if, um... I offended you in any way. That wasn't my intention, really," he said, and you could tell from his voice that he meant it. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. If this continued, your social interactions would drop to zero.

"I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to be so rude. I'm just not in the mood," you said and turned to the stranger. You were going to smile so you wouldn't look like a total bitch, but instead of doing that, your lips twisted into an 'o' shape.

This stranger, or rather the most beautiful guy you've ever seen, was looking at you with a curious expression.

"I-I'm tired lately and it turns out I'm not very nice to other people either," you wanted to hit yourself because that was literally the stupidest thing you could have said. "And it turns out I'm not very nice to other people either"? Well done.

However, the stranger didn't look like he cared too much about what you said, he just nodded as if he totally understood what you meant. "I feel the same way sometimes," he admitted, turning his gaze towards the painting. "That's why I'm here now," he added.

You had trouble taking your eyes off his profile without looking like a total creep, but you honestly didn't think guys like that even existed. He looked perfect in every way. And it wasn't like you fell in love with every handsome guy you saw - love at first sight was overrated, but there was something about him that made you unable to take your eyes off him.

"I'm guessing you're not from around here?" You asked. For a second, surprise crossed his face and his eyebrows furrowed, and you began to wonder if maybe you shouldn't have asked. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have,” you said, and with every second he didn't say anything, you became more and more convinced that he was the one pissed now.

"No no. It’s okay" he said and looked back at you. His dark eyes, hidden behind glasses that you were sure were fake, landed on you. "It's just not often that I meet people who don't know who I am," he smiled and adjusted the sleeve of his white cardigan that had slipped off his shoulder. You gulped as your eyes landed on his sculpted arm, his white sleeveless shirt doing nothing to cover it.

"Should I know who you are then?" You asked, taking a quick breath to calm yourself down. You were sure you had never seen him in your life, though, not even on the internet. Was he some sort of influencer? Maybe a YouTuber?

He chuckled, ruffling his black hair as if you had said something funny. "God, that sounded so pretentious. No, of course you don't need to know who I am."

But now you wanted, no - needed to know who this handsome stranger was, the one who decided to talk to you, a random person in the art gallery. Although it wasn't like he had much of a choice considering you were completely alone here.

"Let's say I'm an artist."

"That doesn't tell me much. What type of artist?" You asked curiously. He looked at you, amused. "I create art on stage."

"Can't you just tell me who you are?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Now you were the one who couldn't stop from laughing. You guessed you wouldn't get more than that from him. "But it's not like Magic Mike, with you getting naked on stage and all?" Where the fuck did you get that from?

Great, it was your official self-embarrassment day. “Not that there's anything wrong with that,” you cleared your throat sheepishly.

You expected him to give you some sort of sarcastic remark, but instead his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he looked just as embarrassed as you were. "No, but I dance too."

“Ah, that's where the painted nails and earrings come from,” you pointed to his ears and he touched them as if to make sure his gold jewellery was still there. “Yeah.”

For the first time, a comfortable silence fell between you and you honestly didn't want it to end. You no longer cared whether he liked the painting or not, but you didn't want him to leave. You felt a certain comfort in his presence that you couldn't quite explain.

"I like this painting because when I look at it I feel calm. Like I don't have any worries and the world is covered in nothing but pink colours, making everything more beautiful," you said, getting lost in your thoughts again. "I wish life was sometimes just about swinging on a swing.” You felt his eyes on you, but he didn't say anything, as if he was thinking about what you just said.

"I never looked at it that way," he said, tilting his head.

“Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective,” you smiled. For some reason you couldn't stop it when he was next to you.

“I'm Xu Minghao,” he extended his hand towards you, which you shook lightly. It was a miracle that you even managed to say your name without fainting, his hand still in yours. "So assuming you're not from here, how long will you be staying in town?” You asked, finally letting go of his hand, no matter how much you wanted to keep holding it.

But then… Why did he seem to hesitate when he let go of yours, too? Your stomach seemed to do somersaults and your heart was beating twice as fast.

"I’m leaving tomorrow," he admitted, though you couldn't tell from his voice whether he was happy or sad about it. Looking at him, his thoughtful face that didn't look as content as yours when you looked at The Swing, you had a sudden urge to hug him.

He had a comforting presence, but for some reason you felt that he himself needed some comfort.

“Um, would you like to maybe,” you held out one of your headphones towards him. "We can listen to something,” you proposed. He nodded, so you walked up to him, heart beating like crazy, with the headphone still in your hand. “Do you have a specific request, Minghao?” You asked.

“Let’s listen to the last song you listened to.”

Your hands touched again as you handed him the earbud, and you could have sworn Minghao let out a nervous breath then. It turned out the wire was too short for you to keep a big distance, so you stood side by side, shoulders brushing. You unlocked your phone and played your most recent song, rewinding it to the beginning.

The night we met.

“How ironic,” you muttered, as the first rays of rising sun poured through the gallery windows. Minghao smiled gently, looking down at you, with the softest gaze anyone has ever looked at you.

You felt like the whole world stopped at that moment - it was just you, Minghao, and the paintings, which for the first time weren't the most beautiful thing in the room.

I had all and then most of you,

Some and now none of you,

Take me back to the night we met.

You wondered how long it would take you to forget Minghao and he would become just a memory of the handsome stranger, like a ghost that wouldn’t stop haunting you.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do,

Haunted by the ghost of you.

“You have no idea how glad I am that I came here,” he said so quietly you thought you misheard him. "Actually, no one knows I'm here," he snorted. "My friends will kill me when I come back," Minghao shook his head. You felt like you had crossed every line of being a stranger, so you laid your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

When the night was full of terrors,

And your eyes were filled with tears,

When you had not touched me yet,

Oh, take me back to the night we met.

“I'm sure they'll understand,” you said, just as quietly as he did. “Everyone needs to get away for a while now and then.”

You stood like that for the next three minutes, your head on Minghao’s shoulder, his hand dangerously close to yours, connected by the cable of your headphones, staring at the painting that meant two different things to the both of you. You dragged out the moment when the song had to end, you wanted to stop this moment forever. "When do you have to go back?"

"I still have one," he looked at his watch. "two hours. Then I have to leave.” You nodded. No matter how much his words hurt you, you decided it was better to use the time you had left. "I know this may be a bit lame, but would you like to go for some tea?" You asked.

His face immediately lit up and his eyes sparkled as if you just gave a new toy to a child.

"You're reading in my mind. Of course I'd like to go," he beamed as he said it. Now he was even more handsome, if that was possible. "Let me guess," you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “You're a green tea type.” He chuckled, causing your shoulders to brush again.

"You are amazing." For a moment, there was no air in your lungs and no words in your mouth. How were you supposed to respond to something like that?

“Let's go then, Mr. Xu,” he smiled and extended his hand to you and you gladly took it.

This time, however, you didn't let it go.

Take me back to the night we met.

[...]

You opened Twitter because you knew that if you wanted to find someone, it was there. You clicked on the first video that appeared to you. "I don't understand but I love you" fancam. Interesting.

You sat up more comfortably on the bed, as the first tunes of the song started playing. So he was a singer, right? What did he mean by saying he did dancing too, though?

But with every second that the video was playing, your eyes were getting bigger and bigger.

"What the fuck?"

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings

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sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Let Me Part One | kmg x reader

Summary: You've been the student athletic trainer for your uni's basketball team all year, and you're pretty sure Mingyu has had a crush on you the whole time. You're not sure how much longer you can resist him.

Rating: T (this part) | Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: my lack of knowledge about basketball, overprotective gyu, pet names, swearing, food/eating, allusion to lack of safety on college campuses, size difference (reader thinks mingyu is large), making out

Reader Notes: no gendered pronouns or petnames used, wears a dress and bra at one point, one of their shirts is small on gyu, gets picked up briefly by gyu

They’ve already been practicing for an hour on the outdoor court when you finally let your gaze find Mingyu. Keeping your eyes off of his jumpshots and layovers was difficult, but worth it, when he looks like he does.

Fuck, he’s so hot, you think, frantically looking elsewhere when Mingyu glances over at you.

He’s cocky enough, you don’t need him knowing you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him now that you’ve finally allowed yourself to look.

He’s just so buff, and large, and now he’s glistening with sweat, and his hair is so pretty. That little bang of his drives you crazy, and you truly have no explanation as to why you’re desperate to reach over and tuck it behind his ear, but you think you just might sell your soul for the chance.

You probably wouldn’t have to though, if the way Mingyu looks at you says anything.

He’s always had a little crush on you, even before you started having feelings for him, and that’s why you stay away. It’s unfair to him, probably, to think this way, but he’s just too hot to be so kind and smart and funny too, there has to be a catch.

You know it’s not that he’s a playboy, because you’ve seen him at a million post game parties and he’s never been with anyone but the guys, never left with anyone but the designated driver.

You know he’s not a bad person, evidenced by him constantly topping the team’s volunteer hours list, and the ‘little brother’ he brings to half the games.

You know he’s respectful, waiting to see if you want to answer a question in class before he raises his hand, making sure you have a ride home after every game and won’t have to walk across campus in the dark.

And fuck, the time Mingyu found out you did walk home alone after a game…

He pulled you aside after class, his hand warm in the crook of your elbow, tighter than you were used to. The look on his face made your blood run cold; you’d never seen him like that before, fuming, disappointed, but frightened too.

You didn’t think it was that big a deal, your apartment is just off campus, and the walk home from the stadium is only about fifteen minutes, but it’s not always safe to walk alone in the dark, especially after a big game.

Mingyu told you that, and more, before grabbing your hand in his massive grip and tucking your fingers down, leaving your pinky out, linking it with his, and making you promise never to do it again. He said that no afterparty was worth you getting hurt, and that if you didn’t have a ride he’d walk you home himself.

You made sure you had a way home every game after, knowing you couldn’t risk that kind of one on one time with him.

It doesn’t help though, doesn’t stop Mingyu from narrowing his eyes at you to determine if you’re telling the truth, doesn’t keep him from reminding you of the pinky promise, doesn’t release you from the text he also made you vow to send him once you get home safely.

He’s stuck closer to you ever since then too, finding you at parties, and sitting next to you in class, and looking for you on the sidelines after making the winning basket.

You don’t really know what to do with it, just give him a wave with the red solo cup in your hand, and shift your pens over so he has more space on the desk, and shoot him a smile and a high five, which he always returns with the cutest grin on his face.

Your focus abruptly returns to practice when shouts erupt, the sound of cheers and ass smacks echoing through the court. Mingyu’s eyes swivel, like he’s looking for something, and he beams when he finds you already looking at him.

His hand reaches up, palm facing towards you, and you instinctively smile and reach your hand up too, returning his high five. He bounces on his feet, shaking hands with Wonwoo, who you assume he successfully faked out and dunked on.

You don’t mean to encourage him, but you rebuffed him once, just shot him a thumbs up, and the way his smile fell near cleaved your heart in two. After that, you simply couldn’t ignore him.

And it looks like you won’t be able to ignore him tonight either, you think, as he jogs toward you, smug at having caught you looking.

“Hey babe,” Mingyu pants excitedly, reaching down to squeeze your hand, “Can you believe that? I never score over Wonwoo!”

That’s another thing. He always calls you babe, or baby, or sweetheart, or darling, and you always try ridiculously hard not to let him see that it makes your heart skip.

You’re getting better at it, you think, grinning at Mingyu and responding, “Must be your lucky night.”

Oh shit, that was flirtier than you meant it to be.

Mingyu latches onto it though, stepping closer and asking, “If it’s my lucky night, how about we grab some ice cream after this?“

How can you tell him no this time? There’s gotta be a-

“Sure!”

Okay well. Your mouth worked before your brain did. But you can’t take it back now, Mingyu just looks too happy.

His eyes squint gleefully at you, canines pushing against his bottom lip with the force of his smile, and he reaches down to grab your other hand, swinging them from side to side.

“Mingyu, back to work!” Coach shouts from across the court, and Mingyu yells an apology from over his shoulder, giving your hands one last squeeze before letting go and jogging backward, keeping his eyes on you until he needs to turn around.

Fuck, your heart is racing.

Practice goes smoothly, Mingyu making it his mission to score over Wonwoo as much as possible, and subsequently failing that mission. He’s a bit pouty as you walk to his car, swinging the keys around his finger and letting his footsteps land a bit heavier than normal. He always does his best to make himself seem small around you, and you’re not sure why.

You love how big he is, love how he towers over everyone, how other people disappear behind him, how one of his steps is the equivalent of 2 of someone else’s. You think he does too, but not around you for some reason.

You’re still thinking about it as he opens the passenger seat door, and you thank him absentmindedly, managing somehow to climb into his SUV even with your focus miles away.

The slamming of his car door brings you out of it, and you look over to find him staring at you intently.

“Did you hear me, baby?” Mingyu asks with concern.

“Oh, um no, sorry, Gyu. What did you say?” You turn to him, feeling a bit bad for spacing out like that and giving him your full attention.

“It’s okay, darlin’, I asked if you wanted Ben and Jerry’s or Cold Stone, they’re both just off campus.”

“Ooooh, um,” you take a second to think, weighing your options and what you had last and what each one has over the other. You take ice cream very seriously.

“Cold Stone tonight, I think. I like how they smush it all together,” you respond finally, appreciating that Mingyu’s gaze never left you and he didn’t seem to get annoyed at your thinking time.

He nods seriously and with approval, shifting gears and placing his big hand on your headrest to reverse out of the parking spot. He smells so good, fresh out of the shower, and his hair is still damp, drops of water trailing down his neck to dampen the collar of his t-shirt.

You’re not used to being so close to him; he’s affectionate but you’re usually able to keep some distance. There’s nowhere for you to go now.

You chat easily, Mingyu asking how your project for your shared class is going, you asking him if he thinks they’ll make it to the championships this year, him confidently saying they will but if they don’t, you’ll have to go out with him to make him feel better. You respond that of course you will, it’s your duty as their student athletic trainer to heal his wounds, and it’s too late to backtrack when you realize you’ve just agreed to a date.

Hell, you’re already on the way to one, what’s one more?

Your possible second date turns into your possible third date when you agree to let Mingyu take you out to dinner tomorrow night.

He ate his ice cream so voraciously, yet thoughtfully, spooning out huge bites but taking his time to work through them, enjoying every add in and sprinkle. You’re not sure why it made such an impact on you, but it only got worse when he gathered up both of your empty cups and took them to the trash, returning with napkins coated in hand sanitizer to clean up any melted ice cream on the table.

You realized how careful Mingyu is with everything he does, how considerate, and you wonder if maybe you’ve been protecting yourself for nothing this whole time.

He’s always been just as careful and considerate with you, and you thought there must be something bad to balance out all the good, but now you’re not so sure.

You’re even less sure when he pulls up outside of your apartment, parking and promising to pick you up tomorrow morning and take you to class, then to get your car after.

“I just don’t want you driving and parking alone so late at night, do you mind?” he asked, and you know he would take you to your car right now if you wanted, but oddly enough, you don’t.

“No, Gyu, I don’t mind,” you smile softly at him, and let him jog around the SUV to open your door and help you step down.

He walks you all the way up to your apartment, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and thanking you for letting him take you out. You make him promise to text you when he gets home, and he beams, biting his lips to try to hide the smile at first before letting it light up his face, and you know you’re in trouble.

By the shadow under the door, you can tell he waits until you’re fully locked up to return to his car, and you’re still trying to pretend you’re not singing love songs in your head when your phone buzzes.

made it home xoxo gyu

Mingyu’s early to pick you up, so you let him hang out in your apartment while you finish getting ready.

He wanders around for a bit, checking out the knick knacks in your bookshelf, investigating your appliance situation, asking if you’ll let him cook for you tonight instead. You say yes without thinking about what exactly that entails - having Mingyu in your flat, at night, with candles probably, and wine because you know how to entertain a guest, and he’ll be cooking, in your kitchen, and he’ll likely want to wear an apron because he’s adorable and thorough like that, and you’ll be fucked.

The careful distance you’ve kept from him is narrowing, the walls you built brick by cynical brick crumbling, and you really want to say you hate it, but you don’t.

It’s easy, letting him get close to you.

It’s easy letting him buy you your favorite iced coffee before class, because of course he knows your order. It’s easy letting him carry your books, just because he wants to. It’s easy kicking him under the table when he makes under the breath jokes that threaten to disturb class.

It’s easy letting him kiss you on the cheek when he drops you off at your car, easy letting him open your door and pull you into a hug before seeing you off. Easy letting him pick the meal and do the grocery shopping for tonight, setting the date for 6 PM.

Even worse, it’s easy to let yourself be excited, to let yourself do your hair and just a little makeup, to wear a better bra than usual, to maybe try on a cute little flouncy dress that you know will break his brain, considering he’s only ever seen you in day clothes and the athletic trainer uniform.

What’s not easy is sitting there, at 5:35 PM, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. It’s funny how you used to feel better being further away from him, and now you fear you’ll never want to be away from him again.

Mingyu arrives at 5:50 on the dot, like he got here early and waited as long as he could, until it was a socially acceptable amount of early. He bounces on his toes as he bursts through the door, dropping a kiss to your forehead even with his arms full of groceries. It looks like he bought enough to feed the whole team, and you’re tempted to tease but he just looks so excited.

He explains his idea for the meal as he unloads the bags, lining everything up, telling you how much he loves cooking mise en place, and managing to not sound pretentious at all. He stutters a bit when he realizes what you’re wearing, eyes traveling up and down your legs, catching just barely on your breasts, and you smile serenely at him as he shifts behind the counter and asks where you keep your spices.

He’s adorable, in his black polo and jeans, massive form moving through your small kitchen like he’s cooked you dinner a million times, and it’s hard not to imagine him here, to want him here, every week. Or every night, your subconscious whispers.

Dinner is delicious, Mingyu is gifted in the kitchen in a way you didn’t expect, and as you wash dishes side by side, bumping hips and singing to the radio, you think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him love you.

You watch a movie together, nothing scary because Mingyu doesn’t like horror, and snuggle up on the couch. He’s so warm, and so large, and the perfect cuddling companion. He falls asleep halfway through, massive body tipping over, and you’d let him lay on you, you would, but he’s too fucking heavy, so you get up and gently guide him down to rest on the cushions. Tugging a blanket over him, you settle at the end of the couch, just enough space left free with Mingyu’s knees tucked to his chest as they are, and settle in.

It’s dark when you wake up, Mingyu and your TV still asleep, and you know he’ll ache tomorrow if he stays on your couch. You rub your hand up and down his arm, whispering his name, and he smiles as he blinks awake, his arms opening in a stretch and then wrapping around you. He shifts to his back, tugging you on top of him and sighing at the weight of you on his chest, “Do you think I could sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah, Gyu, I was gonna ask,” you respond softly, and he hums, his arms relaxing around you but resting heavier on your back.

“Wait, don’t fall asleep again.”

He shakes his head, blearily opening his eyes and staring at you with a confused pout.

“Come on, you can sleep with me,” you whisper, trying to crawl off of him, but he smirks, biting his lip with those canines, and you roll your eyes, “Sleep in my bed, with me.”

He giggles, “I knew what you meant, I was just teasing.”

He gets up, holding you to him and walking with your feet on top of his in the direction of your bedroom, stalling when he’s unsure of which door to open. You point, and he shuffles into your room, depositing you at the end of your bed before climbing in.

You’re still in the dress, which feels a bit uncomfy now, and your bra, which is ridiculously uncomfy now, so you grab some pajamas and head to the bathroom.

You change and wash up quickly, returning to find Mingyu standing next to the bed.

“Why’d you get up? What’s wrong?” you ask, hanging up your dress and putting your bra away, biting back a smile at how he averts his eyes from your underwear drawer.

“I just was wondering if you would mind if I slept in my boxers, these jeans aren’t really for sleeping,” he asks sheepishly, sighing in relief at your nod and unbuttoning his pants as soon as you turn your back.

“I think I have an old team shirt too, if you don’t want to sleep in the polo,” you offer, digging through your drawers and finding a shirt you think will fit him. You toss it over your shoulder, knowing he’ll catch it, and that you’re not ready to see him shirtless yet.

You turn just as he’s tugging it over his torso, and your mouth dries at the way it stretches across his chest, wrinkling over his pecs, falling slightly loose on his waist, giving just a hint of his abs.

You are not God’s strongest soldier, you know this, but you didn’t think you’d be tested in this way so soon.

Adamantly avoiding looking at his evil, luscious body, you walk around the bed and climb into your side, waiting for him to join you before turning off the lamp on your nightstand.

He scoots closer, inch by inch, until he can stretch his hand across the sheets and tuck his pinky beneath yours, and what are you supposed to do with that, except close the distance, wrap his hand up in yours, and snuggle into his arms, shoving your face in his chest.

Mingyu sighs immediately, relaxing and tugging you closer, whispering a goodnight into your hair, and promptly knocking out.

It takes you a bit longer, his body heat making you warmer than you usually like, but you wouldn’t pull away for anything, and eventually you fall asleep, cocooned in his arms.

Mingyu’s snoring when you wake up, still in the position you fell asleep in. You have to pee, and your stomach is growling, so you wiggle out of his arms, replacing your body with your pillow and sneaking to the bathroom.

You shuffle into the kitchen, quietly pulling out the waffle mix and iron, plus some bacon and eggs. You know he normally eats a lot, and with the game tonight, he needs to fill up, so you scramble eight of the eggs and fry up half the bacon.

The waffle iron is steaming when Mingyu stumbles in, rubbing his eyes and tugging the shirt down every time it rides up. He beams sleepily at you, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to your lips, and you freeze. He putters around the kitchen, putting dishes away and starting the coffee maker, and you wonder when everything got so fucking domestic.

It’d be a lie to say you mind. This is what you were scared Mingyu wouldn’t want, the type of relationship where you cook together and fall asleep early, and crawl into bed late, and wake up to cook for whoever’s still asleep.

You were scared he was just like all the other college guys you’ve tried to be with - lying about wanting the relationship part when they were only interested in sex, leaving you alone every night unless you wanted to netflix and chill.

Yet here Mingyu is, expertly navigating your kitchen, pecking you on the lips then turning to make you coffee.

He hasn’t put his hands on you without you making the first move, hasn’t tried to feel you up or anything, but you think you’d let him if he wanted to, hell, if he doesn’t ask soon you think you will.

You eat breakfast quietly, Mingyu playing with your fingers and shoveling food into his mouth. He grins at you through a mouthful of waffle, laughing at the way you cringe, and kicks your feet with his.

He has to leave soon, for a run and then practice with the team, and you dread how empty your apartment will feel without him.

“So, what changed?” Mingyu asks, startling you.

“What do you mean, Gyu?” you ask, fearing you already know, stabbing scrambled eggs with your fork and chewing slowly so you can stall.

“You’ve been pushing me away for months. But you didn’t last night, or the night before. I just was wondering… what changed?” he inquires softly, nervously, not sure he wants to know the answer.

You realize you haven’t been giving him enough credit, that he’s much more perceptive than you expected, or maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you thought.

“I was,” you take in a deep breath, preparing to be honest with him, and yourself, for once. “I was scared.”

“Of me?” he looks concerned, and you rush to reassure him.

“No, Gyu, I wasn’t scared of you, I was scared for me. I knew you liked me, and I knew I liked you, but I thought… fuck, I’m sorry, I thought there had to be something wrong with you, you’re just too hot and good and smart and kind and perfect,” you breathe out, pulling away to hide your face in your hands.

Mingyu stays quiet, tapping his fingers on the table before reaching up and gently tugging your hands away from your face. You peek your eyes open to find him smiling fondly at you, sweet eyes half lidded and nose scrunched.

“You’re so silly, baby, you’ve been scared for nothing,” he teases, squeezing your hands until you giggle sheepishly, looking away from him and then looking back when he starts to speak.

“The only thing wrong with me, that I know of at least, is how embarrassingly into you I am. I had to beg the other guys not to flirt with you, not because I thought you’d go for them but because I didn’t want to see anyone else making you laugh like I do. You know the kid who used to sit next to you in class?”

He waits for your nod, continuing, “I got him club seats for the Homecoming game in exchange for him sitting somewhere else so I could sit next to you. Fuck, is that creepy?” Mingyu panics, pulling a hand from yours to run it through his hair as his gaze shifts around the room.

It’s your turn to soothe him, as you take his hand again and press it to your cheek, smiling softly and saying, “It’s not creepy, it’s cute. And embarrassing, like you said.”

Mingyu breathes a sigh of relief, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone and gazing at you thoughtfully, “You didn’t answer my question, though.”

Shit, you’d hoped he missed that.

“What changed is… I acted on impulse and said yes before I could even think of why I could say no,” you don’t want to tell him you didn’t mean to, and this feels close enough to the truth for it to not be called a lie.

He accepts it, nodding and saying with an easy grin, “Well, I suppose I can only hope you’ll act on impulse more often then.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to hope, it’s like my brain stops working when you’re around,” you admit to his great delight.

You chat more over the rest of breakfast, cleaning up together again, and you let yourself dance closer to him now, knowing he already knows he’s got you.

It’s not clear enough, apparently, because he nervously asks, “So, can I be your boyfriend?” just after you’ve walked him to the door. Your impulses have led you well thus far, so you reply on instinct, “Yes, Mingyu. You can be my boyfriend.”

The beam that splits his face is almost blinding, the arms snaking around you crushing, the heat of him against you searing, and you know suddenly that you were right to be scared, because you just might already be in love with him.

You can afford to be a little fearful though, as long as it means Mingyu’s around to hold you like this.

The arena feels like a live wire.

The game is down to the last quarter, and your team is behind by four points. This is the qualifying match for the state championships, and you’re terrified they won’t be able to make up the difference.

This other team has matched your boys point for point, but in a much less sportsmanlike manner, riling Mingyu up all night, poking at the whole team, enough so that Cheol got into a shouting match with the other captain, nearly getting ejected from the game.

The clock is ticking, time steadily running out, and you can tell Mingyu’s starting to get a bit anxious, his mouth drawn tight and his brow furrowed, his feet hitting the polished floor hard after every leap and fakeout.

You wish you could soothe him, but there’s no time, especially not when he’s lining up a three-pointer, clenching his jaw and launching the ball, watching with bated breath as it soars through the air and swishes through the net.

You barely have time to cheer, just three minutes left on the clock, and your eyes widen when he’s passed the ball again, going immediately for a two-pointer.

It’s like time freezes, the cheer team sounding like they’re in slow motion, the crowd silent, Mingyu gracefully bounding across the court, heaving the ball and standing still as he watches it sail and slip through the net just as the buzzer goes off.

The crowd roars, the whole team gathering around Mingyu and attempting to throw him in the air before they decide he’s just too fucking large and let him down. You can see his head swiveling, his eyes flicking wildly around the arena, and when he glances your way, you shoot your hand up, grin splitting your lips when he throws his palm up, returning your smile and high five.

You can see Mingyu mouth fuck it, see the courage growing in his eyes, as he sprints over to you and hefts you into his arms, swinging you around and ignoring the way the guys all heckle him.

He just laughs, holding you tighter and getting you damp with his sweat, but you don’t care because he won, they won, and he came to you, wanted to see you first.

And now he’s setting you back on your feet, leaning in slowly, his palms hot on your face, and you meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his, breathing in the sigh he lets out.

His arms wrap around you again, hauling you closer, deepening the kiss, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and whining when you pull away.

“Why’d you stop?” Mingyu asks breathlessly, not noticing the student reporter right next to the two of you, hoping for an interview. You tilt your head over, and Mingyu hiccups an embarrassed, oh!, finally seeing the person next to you.

“Are you… free to talk about those last two shots?” they ask tentatively, their eyes shifting from him to you and back to him. Mingyu looks at you, as if for approval, and at your nod, goes off with them to answer some questions.

You help the staff clean up from the game, stretch some of the guys out when they complain of strained muscles, and wait for Mingyu to finish up. You don’t have any set plans, but it feels wrong to leave without at least saying goodbye.

You’re picking up empty beer cups in the stands when you hear Mingyu call your name from the court.

“Wanna go home?” he asks, waving excitedly and waiting for you as you make your way down the bleachers, wet hair dripping down his neck.

Depositing the cups in the recycling bin, you walk over to him. You take too long, apparently, because he jogs over and sweeps you into another kiss, leaning closer and closer until you’re bent over his arm and clutching his hair out of fear.

You know he wouldn’t drop you, but it would hurt if he did, and you can’t stop yourself from trying to hold on. He likes it though, you think, your hands in his hair, because he moans against your lips and brings you back up so he can cup your face in his big hands and dip his tongue into your mouth.

You let your head grow fuzzy until your lungs start to burn, and you pull away to take in deep breaths as he trails kisses down your jaw. He nips at your neck, startling you into remembering you’re still in public.

“Let’s go home?” you ask breathlessly, grinning at his nod, and let him lead you from the stadium.

AN: okayyyyy so i had this almost fully written when i decided to release it in two parts, just so that part one could be smut free and both could be a bit more digestible.

Part two will come today, probably in a couple hours so you shouldn't have to wait long, and it will be fully smut! like... 4000 words of it... anyway

Part Two!

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#mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #svthub #mingyu x female reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu oneshot #mingyu au #seventeen x reader #svt #✨emily writes✨#mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff

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jihoonotes · 1 year

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he calls you clingy | seventeen imagines

summary: in which the seventeen members call you clingy

pairing: svt x gn!reader

genre: oneshots, romance, fluff, angst | multiple aus !

requested by anon <3

“no right to be mad”

★. streamer!cheol x irl bff!reader | more than friends au

you and cheol are stuck together like glue but lately it seems that only you enjoy spending time with him- at least that’s what he makes you understand.

“mr perfectly fine”

★. psych major!hannie x lit major!reader | enemies to lovers

you and jeonghan hate each other at least that’s what you both think. however lately his words seem to weight more, more than you wanted them to.

“it’s over”

★. joshua x reader | established relationship au

you and joshua are perfect couple goals, but even perfect couples still have arguments.

“daily coffee”

★. flower shop owner!jun x café shop owner!reader | friends to lovers au

jun is your favorite person in “heavens cloud” plaza, but a few rumors is enough to make you wonder if you were ever his favorite.

“new student”

★. class president!soonyoung x new student!reader | high school au + childhood friends to lovers au

after transferring to a new high school you’re happy to be in the same school as your childhood friend, but the excitement quickly diminishes.

“best friends” | jeon wonwoo

★. wonwoo x gn!reader | best friends to lovers!au + love square!au

best friends aren’t meant to be replaceable, but why is it that someone new could take your place?

“bff era is over”

★. anime enjoyer!jihoon x sanrio stan!reader | brother’s best friend au

you like spending time with your brother and his friends, especially one of them. however it seems that he isn’t too happy about your presence lately.

“my first and last”

★. seokmin x gn!reqder | established relationship au

your love for seokmin was always evident and you knew nothing could come in between you two, until someone from his past returned.

“what’s wrong with secretary kim?”

★. secretary!mingyu x ceo!reader | arranged marriage

being ceo has its perks but sometimes certain things will be out of your control- like feelings.

minghao | tba

seungkwan | tba

“cheer up baby”

★. cheerleader!vernon x soccer player!reader | college au

not only are you the striker of the soccer team, but you also seem to strike out with the pretty boy of the cheer team.

chan | tba

#seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #kpop social media au #social media au #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen series

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lololololchips · 2 months

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hi ik requests are closed but i'm sending an idea before i forget it because you're my fave svt smau author. so if you haven't done this before — can i request ot13 finding out that they're NOT your bias. like they're upset because ofc why isn't it THEM but you explain that them being your bf makes them your default bias so you have to have another one as well.

pls do this in your own time!

this was such a cute and fun idea hehe thank youuuu for sending ur amazing request, here it is enjoy!!

finding out they aren’t your bias || SEVENTEEN

genre: fake texts, one shot au, fluff, idol!bf

warnings: cursing, fem pronouns, jealousy, suggestive (?), furry comments (LMAO IM SORRY), all the guys being haters

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milfgyuu · 7 months

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Jeonghan is 1000% a “don’t tell mom” kind of dad in the way that he would absolutely bribe any of his children old enough to spill his secrets into keeping their tiny, precious little lips sealed. Especially when you’ve explicitly told him not to do something and he does it anyway. The tables will however turn because his kids would take after him and bribery turns to blackmail real quick. He never imagined his wickedly cunning six year old threatening to tattle on him unless he buys her ice cream, but alas...here he is waiting for her to eat every last sprinkle.

It nearly pains him to admit how proud he is.

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thepixelelf · 6 months

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Oh Baby, You Part 38 - Messed Up, Stupid, and Jaded

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Wonwoo’s chest tightens as you take in a deep breath. Your arms are wrapped around yourself, almost like you’re blocking everyone out. “After that…” You shrug, then pretend you didn’t by rolling your shoulders back. “Word spread pretty fast.” Your voice is strained from trying to hold in tears, but a few managed to escape and run down your cheeks as you explained yourself. “A lot of people from school hated me but… I guess that didn’t matter too much since I dropped out to take care of Orion.

“I stayed offline for a long time. People were calling me some pretty—” You wipe your hand over your cheek. “—horrible things. I couldn’t defend myself because, well… I needed what they thought about me to be true.”

Wonwoo’s fists clench at his sides.

“It was…” You inhale again. Exhale. “…really lonely, for a while. But then—” Turning, you face the friends you must have come to the concert with. Wonwoo had practically forgotten about them. “—I met some really amazing people. People who had no idea who I was, or what I… did.” You send a watery, wan smile their way. “Who liked me again.”

There’s a quiet moment where your friends all smile back at you, but then your eyes land on Chan, and the tension in your shoulders returns. Your lips curl inwards, and you shift on your feet, then go back to facing Wonwoo and Jihoon.

“But it wasn’t all bad,” you say. “Orion may have been a surprise… but he’s the light of my life now. There are things about what happened that I regret, yes.” You meet Wonwoo’s eyes. “But not him.”

After that, it seems like you’re done; you look down at your shoes, and there’s an awkward silence. Wonwoo feels the ache of tears behind his eyes, recalling every shitty feeling that he went through three years ago. It’s silent until Jihoon breaks it with a hoarse whisper.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t— I…”

Something breaks, then. Wonwoo whips around on Jihoon and braces his forearm across his chest, bunching Jihoon’s collar in his fist. “You did this. You—”

Jihoon’s mouth opens, but Wonwoo sees the flash of resistance die in his eyes as fast as it flared up. He winces preemptively, anticipating a punch to the face. “I’m… I’m sorry, I…”

“You told me all that bullshit about protecting myself!” Wonwoo’s voice rises, apathetic of his volume now that everyone else has left the venue.

Your eyes widen, and you take a hesitant step forward. “Wonwoo.”

His grip on Jihoon’s shirt tightens. “You said I had to! You told me to cut them out of my life—”

“Wonwoo!” You shove yourself between them, forcing Wonwoo off Jihoon and pushing your hand on his chest to get him to back off.

He feels a burning where you touched him.

You glance between the two of them, something hardened in your expression now. “Stop,” you say. “Yes, Jihoon went about everything in his—” You share a look with Jihoon, and Wonwoo sees a brief moment of understanding pass between you. “—messed up, stupid, jaded way, but…”

Wonwoo’s breath hitches when you meet his eyes.

“...you listened, Wonwoo.”

The hurt in your voice is unmistakable.

He thought, three years ago and until now, that he was the only one in pain. He was the one who got thrown to the side.

Your hands move around yourself again. “You didn’t trust me enough to even let me talk to you. And that… I think that’s what hurt me the most.”

Wonwoo’s ears are ringing. He did this to you. He wants to say something. Anything. But is there any word of apology worth enough to repent for what he’s done?

You don’t let him toil for long. Turning away, you return to your friends. “Can we go home, please?”

One of them glances at Wonwoo before going, “Oh, uh. Yeah, of course. The taxi meter’s been going this whole time anyway.” He puts his arm over your shoulders while a girl wraps herself around your waist and pats your back.

Then you’re gone. Again. It’s his fault that you’re gone.

And for the first time, Wonwoo realizes it was his fault three years ago, too.

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oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @kachren @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @1ntaktak @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @dorrysstuff @ckline35 @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @sugacookees @royal9 @doodlelibrary @myjaeyunn @yksthings @jundundun @amosmortese @jaeskz @seungmintree @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @capsiclesworld @hellodefthings @sunshineshouchan @calumsfringe @caratinluv @pinkysinnerbaby @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @wondering-out-loud

#seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #svt smau #svt social media au #wonwoo smau #wonwoo social media au #jeon wonwoo smau #jeon wonwoo social media au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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pepperonidk · 23 days

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i'd rather be blind || c.sc

pairing: sungcheol x reader, mingyu x reader warnings: angst, not accurate at all to korean high school culture but uh... it's fanfic word count: 1425 summary: Seungcheol would rather go blind than see you with someone else. inspired by the song I'd Rather Go Blind by Etta James.

a/n: this is crossposted on my marvel account (@pepperonijem) bc i'm reading some of my old marvel fics and damn... they were kinda insane

main masterlist || taglist

“Whiskey neat. And make it a double,” Seungcheol sighed as he leaned his elbows on the wooden counter of the open bar.

The sound of Etta James’s voice flooded the background, but the only sounds he could bring himself to focus on was the blood pounding in his ears, and his heart keeping in time with it. The drink slid its way down towards him, and he snapped out of his trance only long enough to catch the drink before it spilled on the suit he rented for the evening. Seungcheol let out another deep sigh before downing the drink in one sip; the familiar burn of the alcohol settled over him and he welcomed the warmth that rose in his throat.

He asked for another glass, ignoring the bartender’s concerned glance. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling, and let the music and chatter behind him drown the memories he no longer wanted to remember.

The grass was dewy. The sky was blue. The air was crisp. And your laugh was music.

It was easy to spend hours outside with you. Whether you were playing tag or looking for honeysuckle flowers to snack on, it never really mattered. Not as long as you were there. Today, Seungcheol had implored you to lay on the grass beside him to find shapes among the rolling clouds.

You had indulged him for a while, and he was thankful. While you were rambling on about how clouds were actually extremely heavy, he turned to look at you. You were more radiant than the sun and he couldn’t help but stare. Somewhere among dancing elephants, ballerinas, and coffee pots, Seungcheol could also see an infinite number of days spent in your light. You turned to look at him with a gentle smile and Seungcheol felt himself blush. You chuckled softly before sitting up and pulling your knees to your chest.

“Cheollie,” you began. “My mom said we’ve gotta stop getting stains on our clothes. She said she won’t let us be friends anymore if she has to replace another pair of grass-stained jeans.” You stood up and offered your hand out to help him up. Although he definitely didn’t need you to help him up, he took the opportunity to imagine what it would be like to have your fingers entwined in his. So he slipped his hand in yours and the two of you stood from where you were seated on the grassy hill that sat behind both of your houses.

“Yeah, whatever,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes playfully. He knew as well as you did that your mother’s threats were empty. She adored him, and made it evident every time he came over. As soon as you would walk through the door with him in tow, the sweet and almost sickly scent of apple pie wafted through the house to greet the two of you, which he would grin at in response. You swore Seungcheol was your mom’s favorite child, even though he was only your neighbor. But his charm never failed to get him on everyone’s good side. “I gotta go home anyway, I invited the new kid over to my house. He seemed like he needed a friend,” Seungcheol added.

Your face lit up in response. “Mingyu, right?” you questioned as the two of you walked down the hill back to Seungcheol’s house. Mingyu had transferred to your school recently and was in your advanced calculus class and although he sat behind you, you had yet to strike up a conversation with him. He mostly kept to himself, and spent most of the class with his face buried in his work, drawing small doodles in the margins to while away the minutes, and you had no desire to interrupt. “He sits behind me in calculus, which you would know if you would actually show up to class, dork.” you playfully shoved Seungcheol as the two of you reached his front porch.

Seungcheol laughed in response as he twisted the key to unlock the door. “Okay, to be fair, I don’t think I need to know how to factor derivatives to get through life,” he argued. “But anyway, do you wanna stay for a bit? Mingyu should be here soon.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang, and Seungcheol was quick to open the door to reveal a nervous looking Mingyu. “Hey dude, come on in,” Seungcheol greeted, offering a comforting smile to Mingyu and gesturing into the house. “My friend is here, I hope you don’t mind.” You waved politely at the sound of your name and glanced at Mingyu long enough to notice him smiling sweetly at you, causing a blush to seep into your cheeks. This was the first time you really got to notice the twinkle in Mingyu’s eyes, without the fluorescent lights of the classroom washing them out.

“Yeah, we have literature together, right?” Mingyu asked, walking over to shake your hand. “Nice to finally meet you. Your hair smells nice,” he blurted out before adding quickly, “at least I’ve noticed from sitting behind you, sorry that’s weird isn’t it?” His eyebrows scrunched together as he smiled apologetically, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” you chuckled shyly. “Thanks.” You and Mingyu stood in front of each other for a few seconds, lost in each other’s presence, until your bubble was popped by a cough from Seungcheol. You jumped at the sound, and Mingyu smiled at you in amusement, but Seungcheol had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Uh, I’ll go get us some snacks,” Seuncheol cleared his throat, offering a small smile before disappearing into the kitchen. He stopped and stared at the fridge, looking at all of the photos of the two of you that were hung up by the souvenir magnets you’d gotten him on your trip to Japan. Polaroids of the two of you making silly faces on Seungcheol’s 13th birthday, photobooth strips of him kissing your cheek from the mall two weeks ago, and pictures of you both at the homecoming dance last year. All of those were times he wished he told you how he felt, but let the fear of rejection push him down, and he kept them up as a reminder of his feelings. Seungcheol stared at the pictures long enough to see himself be replaced by the new kid making you laugh right then.

Seungcheol’s trip down memory lane was interrupted by the painful screech of microphone feedback and he turned his head to the stage in time to see the happy couple waving right at him. He waved back and the couple shared a loving look and a quick kiss before you cleared your throat. “We just wanted to say some quick “thank you”s and then we’ll get back to the dancing, sound good?” The crowd cheered in response and she chuckled before continuing. “Well first, thank you mom, for being there for me for all of this. It was definitely stressful, but you are my rock, and you keep me sane. Thank you for showing me what love is and how to share it with others, because without it, I wouldn’t be up here now. And last, but certainly not least, thank you for the apple pie. It was delicious.”

The crowd laughed in agreement, and Seungcheol took another sip of his whiskey. He looked over to the dessert table to see a few small tins of apple pie still left uneaten and was immediately hit with the sharp pang of wistful nostalgia, not in the least bit dulled by the alcohol. The couple continued to list off names, but he tuned their voices out. Until he heard his name.

“And finally, thank you, Seungcheol. You are really the root of all of this, and I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough for being my best friend, and introducing me to my soulmate. I wouldn’t have ever gathered the courage to speak to the love of my life without you, and for that you deserve the biggest thanks.” Seungcheol plastered a sympathetic smile on his face as he met Mingyu’s eyes. “I love you, man.”

Seungcheol raised his glass in a toast while his dark eyes flickered between the two of you. He saw you look up at your now-husband with adoration in your eyes. He saw the sincerity and gratitude in Mingyu’s. He saw the solitude in your interlocked fingers. Then he decided he’d rather go blind.

taglist: @yksthings @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae

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teen6ge · 3 months

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Seoul Drift ☆ 1

☆ pairing: fem!reader x racer!wonwoo

☆ genre: action. angst. eventual smut. strangers to lovers.

☆ word count: 3,6k

☆ a/n: IT'S HERE EARLY THAN I EXPECTED!!!!!!!! y'all, i have absolutely nothing to add. this is only the beginning and, soon enough, i'll evolve my writing, promise. i just hope you like it just as much as i did! i also would like to thank for the support and interest. next chapter i'll work harder. soon i'll post two important links to get you in the mood (playlist + aesthetic boards). that's it! thank youuuuuuuuuuu

“This is so exciting, isn’t it?” Yeeun's high-pitched voice chirps, breaking through the veil of your anxious thoughts about tonight's race. You turn to face her, mustering a somewhat forced smile as you nod in agreement before looking at Seungcheol again. It's unusual for you to feel this anxious about one of his races, but tonight, there's an unshakeable feeling that something is going to be different. The anticipation hangs in the air, thick with the promise of an electrifying night ahead.

Your stepbrother is already in his car, a white Acura NSX with striking red, gray, and black accents, poised at the starting line while awaiting the final racer to arrive. He exudes confidence, as always, unfazed by the tension of the moment. One hand firmly grips the wheel while the other casually supports his chin, his gaze scanning the crowd before meeting yours. A reassuring smile graces his lips, conveying silent encouragement. You couldn’t help but relax as you smile back, feeling way less nervous than before.

A short, black-haired man strides confidently toward the first car, an all-black BMW M5, leaning casually over the driver's window to engage in conversation. "Hey, who's that?" Yeeun inquires, pointing in his direction. Your eyes instinctively roll at the sight of him.

"That's Hoshi. His real name is Soonyoung, but everyone knows him as Hoshi. He's part of this massive drift team called Supra NFZ. They're rivals with Cheol's team. Well, basically, they're the only rivals they have," you explain, crossing your arms. Yeeun listens intently, her gaze shifting to Hoshi for a moment before she scoffs.

"Pigs," Yeeun mutters, and you can't help but giggle at your best friend's words. Honestly, you couldn't agree more.

"Yeah, they are. Plus, I don't know why Seungcheol keeps coming to their events. It's not like they're the only ones around..." you mutter, scanning the area as you observe people placing their bets with another member of the Supra NFZ.

"Maybe because they're our only rivals, as you said before, Y/N," Mingyu's voice chimes in, causing you to turn around. You're met with the flash of his professional camera as he captures a picture of you and Yeeun. Blinking rapidly, you close your eyes immediately after, the brightness burning into your retinas as you whine, slapping your hand against Mingyu's strong arm. He giggles in response. "I'm sorry, I just had to."

"A'ight, listen up, racers," Hoshi's loud voice cuts through the chatter, instantly quieting down the crowd as all eyes turn to him. "Race starts in 2 minutes, with or without my guest, so get yourselves ready."

Not a minute after Hoshi's announcement, a loud roar of a car getting closer and closer fills the air, causing the crowd to scatter. A black, simple 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse emerges, positioning itself beside Seungcheol's car. When the driver rolls his window down, Hoshi smiles as he opens his arms. “Wonwoo, you made it! A’ight, y’all. This is my guest, Jeon Wonwoo, a.k.a GAM3 BO1. It’s his first time, so let’s make him feel at home, a’ight?”

"Shit… We got a newbie." Mingyu exclaims in excitement, standing right behind you. His eyes scan the crowd, searching for his own team.

The crowd starts to buzz talking about the new competitor, your group included. Seungcheol glares at the dark haired man, smirking cocky as his engine roars impatiently, now turning to the other opponents, Bobby and Zico, who are adorning the same smile as him.

“Racers… Ready?” Hoshi asks, the drivers only speeding up in response, engines roaring loud and repeatedly. Wonwoo's eyes meet your stepbrother's, and for a moment, it seems like Wonwoo looks scared. Seungcheol is a serious man to those who don't know him; it's not uncommon for people to find him intimidating. However, once you get to know him, you understand that he's actually a very patient and caring person. That's why it's common to see the look of despair on his face as Cheol glares at him. You're beginning to feel nervous again as Hoshi stands in front of the now four cars, his arms lifting as the race is about to start.

Engines purr impatiently as Hoshi begins to count down from 3 to 1, yelling "GO!" As expected, the first car to start moving is Seungcheol's, the last being from the newbie, but not too far behind. People cheer as they rush to the start line, now free of cars, to watch the vehicles until they disappear from view, yourself included. Yeeun cheers as loud as she can for Seungcheol, Mingyu joining her afterwards as soon as he drags Vernon, the newest member of Cheol’s crew, along with him. Your eyes are fixed on your stepbrother's car, the white Acura drifting beautifully as it turns right, almost side by side with Zico’s car, a purple Nissan 180SX S13, closing in on Seungcheol’s lead, which makes you bite your nail due to nervousness.

As soon as the four cars disappear, the crowd darts to an alley, eager to reach the other side of the block where the finish line awaits. Mingyu is the one to bring you back to reality by grabbing your hand and forcing you to walk with the rest of the group to where the crowd is going.

"Gyu... I don't... I don't think Cheol is winning this one," you manage to mutter, your eyes filled with worry as Mingyu stops in his tracks to face you, his smile disappearing when he notices your serious expression.

"Hey! No, no, no. Don't you dare think he can't win this. Zico might be scary, but he's definitely not better than Coups, okay? Bobby and the other one are not even a competition anymore," he says, grabbing your chin and smiling fondly as he tries to soothe you. "He's got this, okay? And he needs us to be there when he wins yet another race. Let's go, love."

As soon as you reach the finish line, you spot Hoshi watching the race from a TV surrounded by a crowd of people trying to catch a glimpse of the screen as well. A drone camera hovers overhead, controlled by a long black-haired, skinny boy who sits by Hoshi's side. It's the same boy who was collecting people's bets before the race started.

From where you stand, you can see Cheol's car in the lead, with Zico following closely behind while Bobby and Wonwoo are locked in a fierce battle for third place. A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your brother leading the race, and you notice Vernon, Mingyu, and Yeeun already opening a beer to celebrate the foreseen victory. You smile in relief, grabbing a beer yourself.

"Ain't no way!" someone yells from the crowd, and your smile drops as you turn to face the screen, disbelief washing over you as you see what seems to be the unbelievable: Wonwoo closing in on Seungcheol. Over the buzz of the crowd, you can hear Hoshi's laugh, and your eyes remain fixed on the TV screen as both cars take a turn to enter the street where you are now.

Everyone moves to the sides of the finish line, their eyes glued to the two cars closing in on each other. Both drivers have already activated their Nitro gas, accelerating with every ounce of power they have in an intense final push to try to win.

Just when everything seems to be shrouded in uncertainty, Wonwoo's car starts to slow down a bit, a clear indication that his Nitro has run out, while Cheol keeps moving faster and faster, crossing the finish line. Drifting his car to mark a circle on the ground before coming to a stop, Seungcheol jumps out of the car, a victorious smile on his face as people rush up to congratulate him.

Yeeun jumps into his arms, showering him with kisses as he embraces her waist, murmuring words of love before letting her go to greet Mingyu and Vernon, both of them gushing about how incredible the race was. You watch him with a proud smile before wrapping him in a tight hug, feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

"I'm so proud of you, Cheollie. That was scary, but also pretty amazing!" you say in a low voice, knowing how much he would hate it if everybody listened to your nickname for him. He winks at you before turning to the rest of the competitors, who are now talking to their own crew. Seungcheol walks up to them to congratulate them about the race. You eye the competitors you’re familiar with before your eyes land on Wonwoo, who has a satisfied smile on his face. His car has fog coming out of the hood, and he clearly lost a bunch of money. You couldn't understand how and why he's happy, but you couldn’t help but smile along with him, finding it adorable.

"S.COUPS… Here's your prize. Congrats, man," Hoshi approaches your brother, his voice carrying a tone of somewhat fake admiration as he hands over the money they've collected before the race. It’s a BUNCH of money, and your brother's smile widens with pride and satisfaction as he accepts the winnings. "A'ight, let's party, people! The night is just beginning," Hoshi announces to the jubilant crowd, igniting a wave of excitement and anticipation for the festivities ahead.

After securely stashing away the prize money, Seungcheol strides confidently toward the new boy, whose skill nearly cost him first place, and crosses his arms, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. GAM3 BO1 turns to face him, his smile unwavering even as he lifts the hood of the car, releasing a billow of smoke. Seungcheol positions himself beside the boy, casting a critical eye over the engine as he inspects the interior, shaking his head in mock disapproval. His gaze returns to the boy. "Whatcha smiling about?"

"Dude, I almost had you," Wonwoo declares, his tone filled with a mixture of determination and playful challenge, before pointing a finger squarely at your brother, and earning him a round of cheers and applause from the onlookers. Now you’re definitely laughing. Seungcheol grins at his words, looking over his shoulder at his teammates before looking at the boy again.

“You almost had me? You never had me. You never had your car.” Cheol's words ring out, cutting through the air with a mix of humor and challenge that sends the surrounding crowd into fits of laughter. The infectious sound fills the air, causing your lips to press together to contain your own amusement. Despite the laughter, a sense of sympathy washes over you for the boy. Wonwoo’s eyes shift between the crowd and your brother, his smile unwavering.

Your brother strides confidently around the car as he continues, his voice carrying a playful edge. “Granny-shifting. Not double-clutching, like you should. You’re lucky that 100-shot of NOS didn’t blow the welds on the intake.” His words are met with a chorus of cheers in agreement, the crowd clearly enjoying the banter between the two racers. “Almost had me?” Seungcheol turns to the people behind him, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe at the exchange that just unfolded. Without a word, they gesture for Wonwoo to leave, their reactions a testament to the intensity of the moment. The boy is still unaffected by any words or actions.

“Ask any racer. Any real racer.” Cheol's voice booms with confidence as he returns to stand in front of Wonwoo, his demeanor commanding the attention of everyone around him. Mingyu and Vernon move closer to support their friend, their presence adding to the sense of camaraderie and unity among them. You watch the scene unfold with a grin on your lips, observing how your brother exudes an undeniable sense of cockiness when it comes to racing.

“It doesn’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile. Winning’s winning.” His words resonate deeply, echoing through the crowd and eliciting cheers and applause from all around. Some people even join in, yelling "yeah" to express their agreement with your brother's sentiment.

And it was true.

Although Wonwoo came close to overtaking Cheol's lead, he ultimately didn't win, and that's what matters in the world of street racing. Your brother turns around to embrace his girlfriend before making his way through the jubilant crowd, joining in the festivities as someone's car blasts music at full volume.

Meanwhile, you remain in the same spot, a sympathetic smile on your lips as you observe Wonwoo, who appears to be crestfallen as his car continues to emit smoke.

"You really didn't prepare for the race as you needed to, did you?" you remark, your tone a mixture of empathy and curiosity as you address the disappointed racer. He turns around as soon as he hears your voice, and sighs as he shakes his head.

“Apparently, I did not…” he chuckles, his expression a mix of resignation and amusement as he acknowledges his oversight. You find yourself smiling in response, drawn to his easygoing demeanor as you approach him, taking a closer look at his car.

“But he’s right. S.COUPS knows more about this than I do, clearly,” he continues, his tone tinged with admiration as he acknowledges your brother's expertise. “I thought only having Nitro gas was enough.”

You smile sympathetically, nodding in understanding as you lean against his car, your eyes scanning the crowd in search of your brother, who is now engrossed in the festivities with his teammates and Yeeun.

“He’s not a bad guy, you know? He’s been in this game for a long time, so he knows and loves what he’s doing now. But he was just like you at first,” you remark, your gaze returning to Wonwoo, who mirrors your posture as he leans against his car beside you. “NOS isn’t enough, and whether you like it or not, drifting is also an important skill to master.”

"Yeah... Do you race too?" His curiosity is genuine, evident in the way he speaks, as if he's genuinely interested in your involvement in the racing scene. You chuckle softly and shake your head, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes.

"No! No, I... He would never let me," you sigh, your gaze drifting towards your brother once again. The familiar tension between you two surfaces once more in your mind. It's a recurring cycle - you ask him to teach you, he refuses, and before you know it, you're locked in another argument. "He hardly changes his mind."

Wonwoo hums in understanding, his gaze following yours to your brother, and a chuckle escapes him, prompting you to look at him with a slight frown, though a smile plays at the corners of your lips. "What?"

He shakes his head before returning his gaze to you, a playful glint in his eyes. "I was going to ask if he's your boyfriend or something, but he clearly isn't. He's almost swallowing the blonde girl he's with," he remarks, his observation laced with humor. You laugh in response, shaking your head at the amusing misconception.

"Oh, God, no! No, he's my brother. Well... Stepbrother," you clarify, offering a small smile as you dispel any misconceptions about your relationship with Seungcheol. Wonwoo hums again, looking at his own hands while toying with his fingers before speaking.

“So… It’s okay to ask for your number then, right?” he smiles at you, his ears slightly pink, a sign of his nervousness. You feel your cheeks burning as you smile shyly and nod in response to his question. “Yeah? What about a date?”

“Yes, Wonwoo! I’ll go out with you,” you say, unable to hide your excitement. His gaze is endearing as he looks at you, his eyes moving between your lips and eyes, a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Good. I promise it won’t be as embarrassing as today… At least not for me," he adds with a chuckle, and you both share a laugh, the tension easing between you.

After exchanging phone numbers, Seungcheol calls out for you, indicating it's time to go. Reluctantly, you begin to make your way toward him, though part of you wishes you could stay longer with Wonwoo. You're unsure if he'll actually ask you on a date, but the possibility leaves you feeling anxious and excited.

After a few moments, Wonwoo makes his way back to Hoshi’s garage, where the rest of the Supra NFZ crew has gathered, minus DK himself. Despite being a part of the team for two years now, Wonwoo has never actually met DK in person; he only knows of him through reputation. Stepping out of his car once it's parked, Wonwoo strides toward the table where the other members are gathered, their attention absorbed by a lively card game as they await his arrival. The first to acknowledge Wonwoo’s presence is Dino, the youngest member of the team.

“Oh, hyung! You’re back!” Dino exclaims, his cards dropping onto the table as the rest of the crew swivel around to greet Wonwoo. Rising from his seat, Hoshi gestures for Wonwoo to join them at the table.

“A’ight… Now that all of us are here, at least the Seoul division, let’s first congratulate Wonwoo for his performance tonight,” Hoshi announces, his applause prompting the other members to follow suit with cheers of approval. Wonwoo accepts the praise with a smug smile before settling into his seat at the table.

“I told you I could do it… Choi Seungcheol really thinks he won because poor Wonwoo didn’t know his way around,” he jests, his eyes rolling playfully as laughter ripples through the group. Rising to his feet, Dino takes it upon himself to retrieve beers for everyone before resuming his place at the table. After taking a sip of his drink, Wonwoo sinks back into his chair, the tension in his muscles easing slightly. “So… What’s next?” he inquires, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Hm… Right.” Hoshi sets down his beer, reaching for his notebook and flipping it around to display the screen to the assembled members. The file on the screen contains scant details about Seungcheol’s crew. “Here’s the plan. We need you to gather intel. Gain their trust, blend in, and become one of them. DK’s orders.” Hoshi outlines, his gaze locking with Wonwoo’s as he emphasizes the importance of discretion. Wonwoo nods in solemn understanding, taking another sip of his beer as he absorbs the gravity of the task ahead. “You still need to maintain your cover by using that beat-up car as your alibi to coax S.COUPS into helping and teaching you a thing or two. You cannot afford to be discovered. Understood?”

“Got it.” Wonwoo’s response is resolute and brimming with confidence, his determination evident in his tone. Hoshi shifts his attention to the rest of the group, clicking a button to transition to the next slide on his presentation.

“Great… Now, we know Seungcheol has a stepsister… I believe the best person to try to use her would be-”

“I can do it.” Wonwoo’s assertive voice slices through Hoshi’s sentence, prompting the short-haired man to give him a thorough once-over. “I actually spoke to her today and even got her number. She thinks I’m taking her out on a date later, so… Let me handle the Chois.”

“She isn’t a Choi. Not like Seungcheol,” Hoshi murmurs, his voice carrying a note of skepticism as he closes the notebook and straightens his posture. “I’m not entirely convinced you can handle her…” His arms cross over his chest as he subjects Wonwoo to another round of scrutiny, his gaze flickering to the other members of the team, gauging their reactions before finally shrugging. “But fine. If she gave you her number, there’s potential. But no romantic feelings, Jeon. Don’t make me regret it.”

As he checks his watch and rises to his feet, Hoshi lets out a muttered curse, hastily finishing the remnants of his beer and scrambling to gather his belongings. “Now scram. It’s late and y’all still need to work tomorrow. Dino, tomorrow you’re training Jun. I need him ready by the end of the month; Metaworld is happening, and we need him since Wonwoo will likely be racing for Seungcheol’s team.”

Dino and Jun exchange nods of understanding, echoing a simultaneous “yes, sir.” “Great! Hao, you’re in charge of DK’s new car’s design. He wants something along the lines of green neon fire. Don’t ask me what or how; just get it done and send it to me when it's ready.” Snatching up his car keys, Hoshi beckons to Seungkwan, and the two of them stride purposefully toward Hoshi’s car, an eye-catching orange 2020 Dodge Charger Hellcat Redeye. “Wonwoo, you’re heading to S.COUPS’s restaurant tomorrow. I’ll text you the address. Don’t forget about it.”

And with that, the rest of the crew departed the garage, their engines roaring to life as they dispersed into the night. Wonwoo offers a casual wave goodbye to his teammates as they peel out in their respective vehicles, leaving him alone in the empty space. Retrieving his cellphone from his pocket, he quickly shoots you a text, a simple confirmation that he indeed had your number.

"No romantic feelings," he mutters to himself with a scoff, dismissing the notion as he locks his phone. But deep down, a seed of doubt lingers. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet, but the wheels of fate had already been set in motion.

He would find himself drawn to you, just as you would to him.

☆ taglist: @kwonshiho - @aaa-sia - @tootheiass - @vlbi - @soonyoonswoo - @bekah931215 - @i-lovegojo

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