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@soo0hee
2 1 : 1 0 — KAT — 2 5
Hello and welcome to my 2nd Blog!
If you want to check out my main, it's @hee0soo - where i post mainly about my Ateez boys <33
This one is going to be for my Seventeen boys because i fell into a hole and refuse to leave it lmao
Ateez blog -> @hee0soo
F1 blog -> @kattheogcat
Networks: @k-labels @k-vanity @thediamondlifenetwork @svthub @studiosvt
Navigation
"can our ai assistant help you?" "give our ai mode a try !" "our ai assistant is your new best friend !"
IMPORTANT: please read
If you've been receiving any asks that consist of random ramblings of a mad person with my blog mentioned, please read.
This person has been harassing multiple members of the caratblr writing community with baseless accusations and while we hoped it would die down eventually, it has not. This person has gone beyond caratblr and the writing community to random blog's inboxes to ramble about their grievances and are clearly looking for attention. You can scroll down on my blog to see some of the absolute batshit crazy things they've sent to me alone and make your own decisions.
This person is anonymous and is too much of a coward to come forward themselves with their issues with the entire community. They're using extremely derogatory language against me and other writers, completely unprovoked, and Tumblr has done nothing of the reports people have sent about this person.
If this person is in your inbox, PLEASE REPORT THEM. This was funny at some point but they're reaching blogs that have NOTHING to do with Seventeen to harass them for no reason.
I do not wish to be attached to this anymore, and neither do any of the writers being roped into this nonsense that is just a person who is simply bored out of their mind.
I don’t know WHAT THE FUCK you think you’re doing parading around and entertaining those TWO STUPID SLUTS but I’m gonna make this real fucking clear because my first warning through Chee didn’t get to reach anyone. YOU DOT EVER ASSOCIATE WITH THEM AGAIN. DON’T YOU DARE WRITE WITH THEM DON’T YOU DARE HELP THEM DON’T EVEN THINK YOU’RE BEING SUPPORTIVE BECAUSE ALL YOU’RE DOING IS LETTING THOSE BITCHES DRAG YOU DOWN WITH THEM. TR***E C*****E are POISON. They RUIN writing they RUIN spaces they RUIN every fucking thing they touch. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND CUT THEM THE FUCK OUT BEFORE YOU’RE. I WILL BE WATCHING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU IDIOTS WHO TRY TO CONTRIBUTE TO THEIR BULLSHIT. YOU DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S COMING IF THESE TWO KEEP RUNNING AROUND they’re untouchable making EVERYONE else look insane while they manipulate half the fucking people you know. ITS EXPECTED BECAUSE THAT BITCH TR***E HAVE ½ BRAINC**I. I SAW you supporting that bitch’s other pathetic little minions. DON’T ENCOURAGE THEM DON’T ENABLE THEM DON’T GIVE THEM SPACE. Kick them the fuck out of tumblr. OUT THEM. IF I SEE ONE OF THEIR LITTLE GROUPIES CRAWLING AROUND AGAIN, I’M GOING TO LOSE MY FUCKING MIND. TR***E a dumb bitch who keeps her minions licking her boots C******E a worthless copycat slut and together they’re a DISASTER. ONE BITCH WAS BAD ENOUGH. TWO IN THE SAME SPACE IS HELL. Don’t fucking test me. You’ve been warned. THIS IS SENT TO YOU BECAUSE THAT MOTHERFUCKER *HEE DIDN'T POST THE WARNING THAT I WROTE TO WARN ALL OF YOU BITCH MINIONS. I TOLD HER TO SO THAT YOU ALL GET MY WARNING THAT WAS FOR YOU ALL. THIS IS HER FAULT
The only bitch here is you. Who do you think you are coming into my asks and threaten me, daring me to do something.
I had no fucking clue who you were babbling about when you tagged me on someone elses post and i still have no idea now because news flash, just because i'm in a fucking server meant for fuckibg writibg which is what i do, doesnxt mean i talk to them!!
Get off anon and say this shit to my face and watch me join their fucking writing events again if i want to!!!
Crazy bitch, whoever you are
Now let me get back to my peaceful blog life
Off The Record
Pairing — FerrariDriver!Yoon Jeonghan x media!afab!Reader
Summary — 3 seasons with sky sports. 3 seasons of navigating between drivers, the fia and stubborn team principals. 3 seasons and non had taken your breath the way 2025 had thus far. The reason? Yoon Jeonghan. Ferarris posterboy and the man haunting your gridwalks as of recent.
Genre — fluff, humor, angst
Warnings — language, alcohol, car crash, f1 inaccurcies along with medical ones
Word Count — 12.8k
Rating — NC-17
A/N — thank you my luv for checking this big boy through for me @imtoanonymousforyou ❤️
Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!
This work is part of the LIGHTSOUT collab by @camandemstudios ! Please check it out!
“And it’s lights out and away we go!”
Your headset was already a little too loud, the roar of engines carrying all the way up to the commentary box where you stood wedged between the anchor desk and a pile of cables that hadn’t been put away yet.
Imola was chaos in ways other tracks weren’t; tight corners, unpredictable weather in the sense that you could roll the dice for what you’d get and highspeed straights that demanded precise driving and even more concentration.
It was a constant reminder that this wasn’t going to be a calm job. Not that you had ever signed up for calm.
Your third season with Sky Sports and one would think the nerves would ease by now. That the pit lane sprints and mid-interview weather changes would stop making your stomach twist. They hadn’t. But you’d gotten good at handling it as best as your abilities allowed it.
You leaned slightly over the railing, eyes flicking to the big screen as the cars shot down to Turn 1. Someone locked up straight away while someone else took the inside line far too aggressively. You were already scribbling down notes, half-listening to the commentators as they bounced off each other in a series of ahhhs and ohhs just as one of the Ferraris clipped his Frontwing on the curb.
An interesting start that probably nobody could have seen coming like this.
47 laps in, adrenaline still humming in your veins you monitored closely how Red Bull ordered both its cars into the pit lane for a swift double stack to undercut before the Aston Martin team could get the same idea.
“Brilliant braking right there into Turn 7 from both Mclarens and gone they are down right into the Chicane. Han being behind his teammate only be 3 tenths making Hoshi probably sweat under that helmet.”
You adjusted your headset.
16 laps still to go.
16 laps in which Haas had to retire one of the cars due to Rear damage, an Alpine and Williams car fought for the upper hand over P8 right as Sauber overtook both with a drastic maneuver you knew the FIA would let slide so easily.
You felt no surprise when the familiar FIA popped up on the screen announcing a 2 second penalty for car 27.
The already cloudy sky became darker. Thick rain drops soaking the tarmac to the point you thought they’d issue a red flag when RedBull claimed a 1-2, followed by Ferrari on P3.
Quickly you gathered your thoughts, things and umbrella that you had brought simply to be safe, brushed of your headset and made your way to the media pen, skipping the podium celebration entirely. You’d smell the champagne soon enough. Simply the thought of it made your nose itch.
If there’s one thing you came to know about yourself since you started 2 years ago, it was that you hated champagne.
And for one second as your mind lingered on your champagne hatred a little to long you were distracted enough to not watch where you ended up.
The next, a very solid body collided with yours hard enough to send the folder you were still holding onto tumbling. Pages scattered like confetti, sliding under the feet of anyone unlucky enough to be nearby.
“Sorry—” you blurted, already crouching to grab what you could before someone stepped on them.
“No, that was me.”
The voice pulled your attention up before your hands had even stopped moving.
Yoon Jeonghan.
Ferraris golden boy as even the F1 Instagram account called him, still clad in his race suit rushing to receive his 3rd place trophy.
The red of his overall a stark contrast to his bleach blond hear and dark brown eyes and looking like a PR-approved photograph waiting to happen. Not a hair out of place. Expression unreadable, but not unkind.
Fascinating how until now you had not once had a conversation longer then the standard hello-bye moment until now.
He bent to retrieve one of your sheets, straightening to hand it to you. “Sky Sports, right?”
You took it automatically. “Uhm yeah… That’s me.”
His gaze flicked to your lanyard, then back to your face. “You’ve been around a while.”
“Third season,” you said before you could think about how flat that sounded.
“Strange we’ve never talked before.”
You gave a short laugh. “You usually make a point of avoiding us.”
That earned a small smile, quick and almost sharp.
“Maybe. But I’m not avoiding you now.”
You blinked at him, trying not to look as thrown into a blender as you felt.
“Maybe you should. You know with podium probably waiting for you and all.”
Someone brushed past, forcing you both to shift to the side. Jeonghan moved easily, like people rearranging themselves around him was just part of his life.
“Where were you headed in such a rush?” he asked.
You lifted the folder. “Media Pen. Trying to get there before the chaos starts again.”
He tilted his head, amused. “I don’t know, you seem to be the typ who likes a little chaos.”
That made you pause. “What makes you say that?”
“Three seasons in and you’re still here,” he said simply.
Before you could reply, his PR manager called him from further down the paddock. Jeonghan glanced over, then back at you.
“Guess I’ll see you around then.
It sounded like a promise.
And then he was gone, swallowed by the flow of team personnel and media.
The next time you saw him, he was standing in front of your camera with a bright red Cap pulled low and P3 next to his name on the timing screen. The media pen was its usual crush of people. Too warm, too loud, and just uncomfortable enough to make you wish podium interviews came with a compensation shot of something strong.
Ferrari’s PR gave you the nod to step closer, and you stepped forward, mic in hand this time instead of the folder that still needed proper sorting from earlier.
“Jeonghan, third podium of the season and here at Imola. How do you feel?”
He turned toward you, eyes meeting yours in surprise for half a second longer than necessary before he answered. “Feels good. Car was strong, strategy was spot on, and we kept it mostly clean at the start. Couldn’t have asked for more.”
You nodded like you hadn’t just noticed how annoyingly perfect he still looked after 63 laps. Maybe a tad bit less sweat then 15 minutes ago.
“It looked intense defending against Mclaren at the end. Were you confident you could hold it?”
There was the smallest curve at the corner of his mouth. “Confident enough.” His eyes flicked to you again, lighter this time, but still deliberate. “I’ve had harder things to defend against.”
You tilted your head. “Like…?”
His smile sharpened just a fraction, tongue peeking out in a way that made him seem a little to cocky then good for you.
“Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”
It was nothing. Barely anything. But it still landed somewhere in your chest it had no business being.
You cleared your throat, keeping your expression neutral for the sake of the camera. “Well, congratulations on the podium.”
“Thank you.” he said, and it was ridiculous that it sounded like he was talking to you, not the camera filming over your shoulder.
And then he was already moving down the line to the next mic, leaving you with a hot mic, a louder-than-normal heartbeat, and a cameraman who was definitely smirking at you.
“Shut up, Woo.” ----------
By the time you got back to the hotel, the adrenaline from the race had worn off and your legs felt like they’d been carrying a car all day instead of just a mic. You’d barely made it through the revolving doors before the warm, stuffy air-conditioned air of the lobby wrapped around you.
All you could think about was how fast you could get upstairs, shower, and collapse. Early flight tomorrow. Stupid early. The kind of early where you wonder why you had booked it in the first place.
You were halfway to the elevators when the doors swung open and he walked in.
Jeonghan.
Still in the Ferrari team jacket, hair falling just right again because, of course it was. He wasn’t alone either; Joshua Hong, his teammate, was right there beside him, both laughing quietly about something you didn’t bother listening to.
You tried to keep moving, like maybe you’d just blend into the rest of the lobby furniture, but Jeonghan’s eyes caught yours before you could look away.
It wasn’t long, just a flicker of recognition. The kind of look you gave someone you had only just spoken to once but remembered vividly anyway. And then, just before you passed each other, he gave you a wink. Smooth, easy, like he’d done it a thousand times before.
You didn’t slow down, but you were pretty sure he noticed the way your steps faltered for half a second.
By the time you reached the elevator and hit the button, they were already heading toward the front doors, voices fading as the night swallowed them up. Out to celebrate, no doubt.
You stepped inside the elevator and let your head fall back against the wall.
Early flight tomorrow. Stupid early. And now you were going to be lying awake thinking about a wink instead of sleeping.
Damn it.
----------
Your alarm went off at 4:15 a.m.
You hated yourself. You hated whoever invented early flights. You hated the version of you who thought booking one after a race weekend was a good idea.
The airport was half-asleep when you dragged your suitcase through the sliding doors, hoodie pulled up and coffee gripped like it was a lifeline. You were halfway through convincing yourself you could nap on the plane when movement in the corner of your eye made you glance over.
And there he was. Again.
Jeonghan. Same black cap from the night before, hoodie zipped up, backpack slung over one shoulder like he hadn’t just been on a podium 12 hours ago. Or went out celebrating at 10 pm the night before.
He looked entirely too awake for this hour. You stopped just long enough for your brain to catch up. “Are you following me?”
Did you sound paranoid? Maybe a little bit.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “More or less.”
You rolled your eyes, but it was hard to hide the way your lips twitched. “Airport’s big, you know. Plenty of other gates.”
“Mm,” he said, falling into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “But this one has you and my plane.”
You didn’t know what to do with that, so you focused on walking, coffee still clutched in one hand.
The line for security swallowed you both up, and by the time you got to the trays, he was already unzipping his backpack, chatting easily with the staff like he had all the time in the world
Somewhere between the scanner and the gate, you decided you weren’t awake enough to figure out whether he was serious or just entertaining himself at your expense.
You spotted him again just past the duty-free section, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket like he had nowhere in particular to be. Which was suspicious, considering he was in the exact same terminal as you.
You glanced over as he fell into step beside you. “So, why go to Monaco already? You could’ve stayed in Italy a bit longer.”
“Early work call,” you said, lifting your coffee like it would agree with you. “Besides, I’m not the sightseeing type.”
He gave you a small, knowing look. “And apparently not a morning person either.” He chuckled.
You huffed a quiet laugh. “I never claimed to be one.”
For a moment, you just walked, him with that unhurried strut you knew from track walks, you scanning the overhead screens for your gate.
“You’re making it very hard for me to believe you’re not following me.” you said finally.
“Good,” he replied, without even glancing your way.
You didn’t bother asking if he was joking.
The seats at the gate were mostly empty when you got there, so you picked one near the corner, dropped your bag at your feet, and wrapped both hands around your coffee. The plan was simple: stare into space until boarding.
You’d just started zoning out when Jeonghan sat down in the chair next to yours.
Of course.
He set his backpack on the floor, stretched his legs out like the extra space was his by right, and glanced sideways at you. “You always this quiet in the mornings?”
You blinked at him, still half in your pre-boarding fog. “You always this chatty before sunrise?”
He grinned. “Depends who I’m sitting next to.”
Your tired brain took an extra beat to catch that, and by the time it did, he’d already looked away like he hadn’t just dropped something that made your stomach do a small, very inconvenient flip.
You took a long sip of coffee, mostly to buy time. “Well, I’m not exactly sparkling conversation right now. So I’m sorry to disappoint”
“That’s fine.” he said, leaning back in his seat. “I’m good at carrying it.
You didn’t know if he meant the conversation or something else entirely. Tho you weren’t sure what he mean by that either. And in your sleep-deprived state, you weren’t sure you wanted to ask.
He shifted slightly, turning just enough that his knee brushed yours. “Besides,” he added, voice light, “I didn’t sit here for the comfortable chairs.”
You frowned, glancing at the identical plastic seats across from you. “They’re all the same.”
“Mm, not really.” he said, eyes flicking to meet yours. “This one comes with better company.”
Your brain stalled for a second, the words taking their sweet time to land. “Right because I’m such a lively person at 6 in the morning.” you managed, because what else were you supposed to say when you’d been awake since 4:15 and were running purely on caffeine and stubbornness.
He smiled like he knew exactly how scrambled you felt.
“You’re cute when you’re still waking up, you know that?”
Your coffee suddenly felt way too hot in your hands.
“That’s… debatable." you muttered, looking back at the boarding screen as if it could save you.
“Not debating,” he said easily, leaning back again, like he hadn’t just completely thrown your morning equilibrium out the window, “just my opinion.”
----------
Somehow you had survived the flight after having been separated after boarding the plane. Him staying in first class while you went back to economy and you had to admit, you were absolutely jealous of him and his stupid amount of legroom.
You also hadn’t seen him again until media day which in Monaco, still made you stumble through the works. In theory it shouldn’t be any different to other races but somehow it just felt different.
The paddock was busy enough that you didn’t have time to think about it.
Until you were forced to.
You were halfway through an interview with Alpine’s drivers, both in matching team gear, sunglasses pushed up, giving you the exact kind of media-friendly answers you could edit perfectly into a segment when you felt someone step in just a little too close behind you.
“Don’t mind me.” a familiar voice said, low enough that only you caught it.
You didn’t have to turn around to know.
You kept your mic steady, nodding along as Jay answered your question, but your brain was already somewhere else entirely.
When the Alpine PR gave you the signal that the segment was over, you thanked both drivers, handed the mic back to Wooyoung who grinned at you like a little kid and then turned.
Jeonghan was leaning casually against the barrier, still in his Ferrari polo, cap turned backwards like he had all the time in the world.
“Wasn’t aware you were covering Alpine today.” you said.
“I’m not.” he shrugged, mouth twitching. “Just thought the view was better over here.”
Your brain lagged a second, same as it had in the airport. “Right. Because Jay and Jake are—”
He cut you off with a small shake of his head. “I wasn’t talking about them.”
You blinked, trying to decide whether to call him out or pretend you hadn’t heard it.
He didn’t give you the chance, pushing off the barrier with that easy, unhurried stride. “See you around.”
And just like that, he was gone again. Leaving you standing in the middle of the media pen with the Alpine PR giving you a what just happened? Look.
You swore under your breath and hoped that the FIA would fine you for cursing one of their poster boys.
The rest of your interviews blurred together after that.
You kept hitting your marks. Questions were asked, mic angled just right, thank you’s and polite smiles while somewhere in the back of your head, Jeonghan’s words were still looping.
“Wasn’t talking about them.”
You’d told yourself the airport thing was nothing. A one-off. An odd coincidence that wouldn’t survive a packed race calendar and two separate jobs. But Monaco was already doing what Monaco did best; slowing everything down just enough that you had time to think about things you didn’t want to think about.
By the time your last scheduled segment wrapped, the sun had dropped low enough to turn the harbour water gold and the media pen was starting to empty out. You handed off your mic and made your way toward the quieter end of the paddock.
Ferrari’s hospitality building was impossible to miss with its three stories of bright red branding and the glass catching the last of the sunlight.
You didn’t have a reason to be anywhere near it, but it was also the most direct route back to the Sky truck and after a long day, direct routes won every time.
You were halfway past the main entrance when someone called your name.
“Y/N.”
You turned around.
Jeonghan was leaning against the railing just outside the door, jacket off now, sleeves of his polo pushed up. He looked like he’d been done with media hours ago but had nowhere better to be.
“You free for five minutes?” he asked.
You glanced at the clock on your phone. You technically had edits to check before they sent the highlight reel to HQ, but… five minutes wouldn’t kill you.
“Maybe.”
“Good enough,” he said, pushing off the railing. “Come on.”
You followed him around the side of the hospitality unit. The sounds of the paddock faded here - no shouting PR reps, no camera shutters. Just the clink of masts from the yachts in the harbor and the hum of the city beyond.
“What do you need? You’ve been haunting my paddock walks since last week and yet I haven’t seen you since Monday until you decided to interrupt my interview today.”
That earned you the faintest smile. “Well, I fixed that, didn’t I?”
You shook your head, fighting back a laugh. “Is this your usual approach? Just… show up wherever someone’s working and throw the off?”
“Only if it works.”
There was that tiny beat again, the one where your brain stalled for just a second too long. You turned your eyes back to the water, hoping the angle hid it.
“And what exactly are you trying to get out of throwing me off?”
He didn’t answer right away, which you told yourself was a win. But then—
“A conversation,” he said finally. “One where you’re not holding a mic and I’m not giving you media answers.”
You glanced sideways at him. “That sounds suspiciously like you want me to interview you off the record.”
“Not exactly.” His gaze stayed on the water, but there was a curve to his mouth now. “More like I want to know why you seemed… surprised to see me in the airport the other day.”
“That’s your question?”
“Seems fair,” he said. “You looked like you didn’t expect me to be there.”
You let out a quiet huff. “I didn’t expect anyone to be there at that hour. It was 6 in the morning.”
“More like 6:20.” he corrected.
That made you glance at him again. “You remember the exact time?”
He shrugged. “Not hard. It’s when I saw you.”
You hated the way that landed,how casual it sounded and how it still sat in your chest like something heavier.
“You’re making it sound like you planned to run into me.”
“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” he shrugged.
You opened your mouth, closed it again. Your tired brain from four days ago would not have survived this conversation. Even your well-rested brain was struggling to do so.
“Alright,” you said finally, leaning back against the railing. “Let’s say you did. Why?”
He turned his head just enough to meet your eyes. “Because you’re interesting.”
The words were simple, but the way he said them made them feel like more than they were.
“Interesting,” you repeated, trying not to sound skeptical. “That’s it?”
“For now.”
Silence settled for a moment, comfortable, but edged with something you weren’t ready to name. The harbor breeze carried the faint scent of fuel and salt water, and somewhere in the distance, someone laughed from the deck of a yacht.
You broke it first. “You know, most drivers try to avoid getting too close to media outside of official stuff.”
“I’m not most drivers,” he said without hesitation.
You snorted. “Yeah, I noticed.”
That earned a soft laugh from him. “And yet, you’re still here talking to me.”
“Because you asked for five minutes.”
“And you haven’t walked away.”
You hated how much he was winning this. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to say something worth quoting.”
“Would you quote me if I said I wanted to see you again?”
That threw you off. Not the words themselves, but how direct they were compared to everything else he’d said.
You recovered with a weak, “Depends on the context.
“I’ll work on giving you one.” he said, straightening from the railing. “You around tomorrow?”
You thought about your schedule. “Media pen, pit lane walk, maybe the press conference if our anchor gets stuck.”
“I’ll find you,” he said simply.
You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t stop your mouth from twitching. “You make that sound like a threat.”
“More like a promise.”
He stepped back toward the main walkway, tossing a small nod over his shoulder. “See you, y/n.”
You stayed where you were for a moment, watching the light shift on the water. Then you pulled out your phone, checked the time, and realized 5 minutes had turned into 15.
---------
Friday mornings in Monaco were deceivingly calm.
The pit lane walk was technically open, but most teams kept things low-key. Mechanics were checking tools, engineers huddled over laptops and the occasional sponsor group being shown around like they were in a museum.
You were halfway down the lane, mic clipped to your belt and notes in hand, when you heard someone fall into step beside you.
“I told you I’d find you.”
You didn’t need to look to know. “And you’re early.”
Jeonghan’s cap was low against the sun, Ferrari jacket unzipped. “Figured if I showed up later, you’d pretend you were too busy to talk to me.”
“I am busy,” you said, scanning your notes. “We’ve got Aston in five minutes and Mercedes right after.”
“Five minutes is plenty,” he replied like it was a fact. “So… how’s your morning?”
You side-eyed him. “Normal. Coffee, notes, trying to avoid tripping over cables.”
He smirked. “And now me.”
You opened your mouth to fire something back, but he kept going. “You look more awake today.”
“That’s what happens when I’m not in an airport before sunrise.”
“Shame,” he said, glancing down at you. “You were cute half-asleep.”
You tripped over your own tongue before settling for, “You’ve mentioned that.”
You focused on your notes, hoping it might slow your pulse. “You know you’re distracting me before an interview?”
“That’s the point.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Because you’re fun when you’re trying not to get flustered.”
Your brain screeched to a halt. He chuckled softly, like he’d just confirmed something for himself.
“Jeonghan” a voice, Ferrari’s PR, called from further up the lane waving him over.
He gave a small nod in their direction but didn’t move. “Guess I’ll let you work. For now.”
“For now?”
“Don’t look so worried!” he said, stepping back. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before the weekend’s over.”
You shook your head, turning toward Aston’s garage, but you caught the faintest grin still tugging at his mouth as he walked away.
Funnily you didn’t see him again that weekend. At least not long enough for him to fluster you or catch more then a short glimpse as you took position in the Sky Truck while Yuna was the one out for Media duty.
Barcelona and Canada you skipped altogether due to having been called back to headquarters and your well deserved break that you had pushed back to the point your boss made you take it forcefully with the threat of blocking your paddock pass for the rest of the season to solve desk duty.
You went back home very quickly after that and realized that it was freaking boring.
You still watched the races. Redbull with another 1-2 in Spain and Mercedes managing Podium for one of their drivers alongside Redbull and Jeonghan in P1.
A small part of you wanted to text him congratulations until you remembered that you didn’t have his number and sliding into his dms on instagram felt weird.
And now you were back.
Austria. Qualifying day. The smell of grilled sausages and tyre rubber in the air, the Red Bull Ring surrounded by green hills that looked like a painting.
You’d barely gotten your mic checked when you saw him.
Ferrari red. Cap low. Jacket half-zipped. Yoon Jeonghan, walking down the paddock like you hadn’t vanished off the radar for a month.
You tld yourself to keep moving – there were cars on track, timings to watch and yet his eyes found yours before you could look away.
And then he was right there, easy as if the last time you’d seen him hadn’t been Monaco.
“Back from your extended holiday?” he asked.
You gave him a look. “Barcelona was work.”
“Desk duty.” he said, like it didn’t count.
“And Canada was vacation!”
“Boring?”
You narrowed your eyes and his grin told you he already knew the answer.
“Thought so.” he said. “You missed me?”
You snorted. “That’s a stretch.”
He glanced toward the track, where the echo of an engine bounced off the grandstands. “Shame. I was almost starting to miss you.”
Almost. The word hung there, light but deliberate.
Before you could think of a response, your earpiece crackled with a cue. “I’ve got to go and you have a quali to drive!”
“Go,” he said, stepping aside. Then, like an afterthought, “But don’t disappear for another month.”
You started walking, pretending you didn’t hear the last part with excellence.
----------
Somehow, Yuna had talked you into it.
“One drink.” she had promised bright-eyed, already pressing the elevator button. “We’ll people watch and judge them for their sandal and sock combination.”
And then one drink became two. Two became three, four because the pours were generous and Yuna was funny and the hotel bar was warm and low-lit and soft all at once, lulling you into a certain sense if security that made you start to slide pleasantly sideways in your seat when her phone buzzed.
“Give me 2 minutes.” she said, sliding off the stool. “Don’t move. Guard my fries.”
You saluted with your glass. “Aye.”
Yuna disappeared in the lobby.
Two minutes turned into five. Five turned into you staring at the fries like they were a mission you could fail. Your legs felt liquid. Your cheeks were warm.
And some sat down in Yuna’s empty stool. Someone who very much was not Yuna.
“y/n.”
You turned and blinked.
“Jeonghan.”
Black hoodie, his Cap low and that relaxed, dangerous kind of calm. He looked like he had wandered in here on purpose and also like he had no plans beyond… this. You. The bar. Time to kill.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here.” he said, mouth tugging into a smile.
“Didn’t think I’d be here.” you admitted, chin in your hand. “Yuna dragged me here. Then she… disappeared. Which is rude.”
“Abandoned at the bar. Tragic.” His eyes flicked to your glass. “How tragic are we talking?”
You attempted math. “One glass. Two. Three.” You squinted at the counter surface. “Four.”
“Ah.” He leaned an elbow on the counter, the picture of patience. “So we’re honest tonight.”
“We’re always honest.” you muttered a little insulted, then immediately gave in: “Okay, maybe not always. But tonight I’m very honest. And tragic.”
“What’s the tragedy?” He sounded like he already knew it wouldn’t be serious.
“I lost my keychain.” The words came out with more feeling than they had any right to. You put your glass down with a careful clink. “My favorite one. Paddock pass on one end, little silver car on the other. Three seasons and now? Gone.”
He didn’t laugh. He looked amused, yes, but not cruel. “Devastating.”
“It is! It’s probably somewhere in the paddock or a gravel trap or—” You made a helpless noise. “Ugh.”
“Did you check your bag?”
“Obviously.” You patted it anyway, just in case it would magically appear. It did not. “It’s not there.”
“We’ll find it tomorrow,” he said, easy as water.
“Why would you help me?” Suspicion, squinting.
“Because,” he said, leaning closer. “you pout when you talk about it. It’s very entertaining.”
“I don’t pout!” you pouted.
He grinned slowly. “Yes, you do.”
You scowled at your wine.
He was close. Too close and not at once. He still had a polite inch of space left but it felt close. Warm. You could smell him. Clean, faintly citrusy, a little like detergent and gasoline. Something that made your shoulders loosen without permission.
You didn’t know why you noticed all of a sudden.
You also didn’t know why your eyes kept jumping, completely of their own accord, from his eyes to his mouth. Back up. Back down. Stop it. Stop it. Stop! IT!
ARGH.
“Careful.” he said softly like he caught you mid-stare and was merciful about it. “You’re going to spill if you keep trying to drink and glare at the same time.”
You looked down. Your glass was tilted. You fixed it. “I wasn’t glaring.”
“No?” His knee brushed yours as he shifted. “What were you doing?”
“Assessing. Judging.” That sounded… official. You tried to own it. “You’re very—” Your brain tripped and you gestured a little wildly. “Here.”
“Here” he echoed, pleased. “I am.”
You should have slid your stool back. You did not. You scooted closer instead. A tiny inch. Barely anything. But you felt it everywhere.
He noticed. The edge of his mouth did that thing again. “You good?”
“Peachy.” you said, too fast.
“Mhm.” He was unfair when he hummed like that. “Do you want water?”
“No..." you lied because pride is a bitch when its threatened.
He signaled the bartender anyway, didn’t even look away when he did it. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.” He nodded at your glass. “You on four?”
“Four and a half actually.” you confessed, then frowned. “Is a half allowed?”
“I’ll allow it as long as it’s the last half.”
“Good. Thank you, savior of my alcohol tolerance.”
“Happy to be of service.” he said. “Tell me about the keychain again.”
“Huh?” You blinked. “Why?”
“Because I like when you get serious about small things.” He angled toward you, forearm along the counter, voice easier, lower. “What did the little car look like?”
“Silver,” you said, earnest. “Flat. A little scuffed. Like me.”
His eyes flicked up. “Scuffed?”
“Professionally,” you said. “Travel scuffed.”
He laughed, quiet and warm. It did something inconvenient in your chest. You took the water the bartender set down and pretended it was the funniest, most neutral thing in the world. You drank because he was watching. You drank because suddenly it mattered to do what he asked.
You set the glass down. Your eyes slipped to his mouth again. Treacherous. Why were you like this?
He lifted a napkin, reaching slowly, a question in his face. You froze. He tapped the corner of your lower lip, feather-light. “You spilled some.” he murmured. “May I?”
“You already did,” you whispered, brain three steps behind. Again.
“True.” He drew his hand back, careful, leaving goosebumps that you pretended were cause by the AC.
That was in fact a big fat lie.
You stared at his mouth again because your eyes had no discipline. He noticed, of course he noticed, because he missed nothing.
“You’re staring,” he said, gentle, amused.
“Just thinking,” you said.
“About what?”
You told yourself to pick literally any safe topic. You did not. “If your mouth is always like that.”
He went still, the pleased kind of still. “Like what?”
You had the sense to look away at the bottles lined up behind the bartender.
“Like it knows things.”
His laugh this time was softer, like he didn’t want to scare the moment. “That´s a new one.”
“Ugh,” you said, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m drunk.”
“You are,” he agreed, fond. “And very honest.”
“I don’t want to be honest.”
“haven´t we been there already?”
You peeked at him through your fingers. “Can you stop being right? Yes, thank you.”
“Can’t.” He rested his chin briefly on his shoulder, studying you like he had time. “You smell like wine.”
“And you smell like…” You leaned in before you could think better. The citrus mixed with the detergent slipped right into your head and hit every switch. You blinked, slow. “Like the inside of an expensive closet.”
He choked on a laugh. “Okay...”
“It’s accurate.” You were very certain. “Clean. Dry. A little… lemony.”
“Yes, because i have lemon trees growing in my closet” he supplied, eyes warm.
“Right.” Your voice had gone soft without permission. Dangerous.
You realized how close you were and didn’t move.
Jeonghan watched you not move. It pleased him in a way he didn’t bother hiding.
“You always get this brave on glass four?” he asked.
“I’m not brave,” you muttered. “I’m… slippery.”
“Loose-lipped?”
You nodded, tragically solemn. “Like a ship with no—” You circled your hand. “Flappy thing.”
“Sail?”
“No. The other. The thing that you know-” You mimed rocking. “Keeps it from doing that.”
“Keel?” he said, eyes dancing.
“Yes. That.” You pointed at him like he’d passed a test. “You know boats.”
“I know metaphors when they’re adorable.”
“I’m not adorable. I’m a serious professional who lost her keychain.”
His smile went bright and wicked for a blink. It did terrible things to your balance. “You can be both,” he said. “I like both.”
The word like hit with bell-tone clarity. You stared at him. Wide-eyed and a little like bambi. Not close enough. Your brain put up a error screen and then quietly left the building.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you whispered.
“How am I looking at you?” he asked, equally quiet.
“Like you’re going to… do something.” Your eyes slipped down again before you could catch them. Mouth. Mouth. Stop it. “And like I’d let you.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t crowd. His hands stayed exactly where you could see them loose on the bar. His voice stayed soft. “Would you?”
You swallowed. The room tilted, only it wasn’t the wine. “Maybe...” you heard yourself say, very small. “It´s… confusing.”
“Is it really?” His brow ticked, interested, not pushing.
“Yes.” You stared at his hoodie string like it held answers. “Because this is… you are confusing.”
“I’m simple,” he said, which was patently untrue. “I see something I like. I get curious. I get closer if I’m allowed to.”
You scooted that last, forbidden inch. Sat in the warmth of it. Let the cedar and the quiet and his patience swallow your excuses.
“You’re allowed,” you said, and even drunk, you absolutely meant it.
He laughed under his breath like you’d handed him a gift and he knew to unwrap it slowly. “Don’t tempt me tonight,” he said, almost a warning, almost a promise. “I like your honesty too much to take advantage of it.”
The floor returned under your feet. Gratitude landed low and heavy. You breathed out and felt the breath come back to you.
“That’s… annoyingly decent of you,” you said, trying for light and hitting grateful instead.
“I’m a menace in the daylight.” he said. “But I try not to be one after your four glasses of wine.”
You smiled softly. “You’re still a menace.”
“I know.” He nudged the water toward you with one knuckle. “Drink.”
You drank. It tasted like the right choice.
“Tell me what you’d put on your next keychain.” he said, like he’d chosen the safest lane for both of you. “Silver car again?”
“Something small,” you said. “Something that doesn’t look important but is.”
“Like you.” he said, too fast to be planned.
You blinked. Wide eyes again. “That was—”
“Accurate.” he said, not taking it back.
You stared at his mouth again because apparently you were doing that now. He didn’t make you feel bad for it. He just let you, like it was fine. Like you could want things without it being a life or death crisis.
“Where is Yuna?” you muttered, dazed, and then realized you didn’t care if she came back or not. You cared that he was here and you were here and the night was a low hum wrapped around you both.
“On a call.” he guessed, amused. “Or conspiring.”
“Sounds like her.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Yes,” you said. “She’s chaotic.”
“Good to know.” He checked the time, then glanced back at you. “I’ll walk you to the elevator when you’re ready.”
“I’m not ready.” you said, and then, quieter, “But I should be.”
“Finish your water.” He waited while you did, like there was nowhere else more important. When the glass was empty, he stood, hands in his pockets, not offering an arm, not assuming. “Come on.”
You slid off the stool. The floor did a small wave. He stepped closer without touching you, close enough to catch you if you needed catching and far enough to make it your choice. You didn’t need catching but you wanted it.
In the lobby’s softer light, you noticed other things about him. The way he moved like everything bent around him just a little. The way he looked at you like he’d decided you were not background, not tonight. The way the cedar followed like a quiet dare.
At the elevator, you hit the button. Your hand looked steady. Your heart did not.
“Thank you.” you said, because manners were something to hold. “For the… water. And the menacing.”
He smiled. “Anytime.”
The doors slid open. You stepped in. He stayed out.
“Jeonghan,” you said, and he lifted a brow like he liked how his name sounded when you were a little gone. “Don’t forget about the keychain.”
“I won’t,” he said. The doors started to close; he dipped his head, that wicked, soft half-smile back. “And don’t forget about being brave.”
“I’m not brave,” you said, but the doors had already sealed the words in with you.
You leaned back against the wall and let your head tip, citrus lingering in your nose like you’d breathed it too deeply.
Confusing. You were confused and you were also smiling.
Upstairs, your room felt too quiet. You set your bag down. You checked the zipper pocket anyway, even though you knew. No keychain. Fine.
You turned off the lamp and laid down on top of the covers. The room swayed once, gently, like a boat with a keel.
You thought about his mouth again. You thought about the way he didn’t push. You thought about being brave which you definitely weren´t..
Then you fell asleep still wearing one shoe, because that was your limit for the night.
Tomorrow, you’d figure out what you’d actually do with all this wanting.
Tonight you let yourself like the way he smelled.
---------
The paddock was too loud.
Engines in the distance, crew voices overlapping, the sharp clack of camera shutters as every sound seemed to hit the exact part of your skull that had been throbbing since you woke up. You’d had water before bed, two ibuprofen in the morning, and still felt like someone had replaced your brain with damp cotton.
Curse your love for wine. (I am a wine girly okay, sue me...)
You were halfway to the Sky Sports truck, head down, sunglasses on, when someone stepped neatly into your path.
“Morning, Peach.”
“Jeonghan.” you said flatly, pointily ignoring the nickname he seemed to have bestowed on you “You’re loud.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“Doesn´t matter. You’re still loud.”
He smiled like you’d handed him a personal victory. “And you look tired.”
“Wow. Thanks, haven´t noticed that one so far.”
“Headache?” he asked, like he already knew the answer.
You adjusted your sunglasses, debating whether to walk around him or just tell him to move. You didn’t get the chance to do either, because he stepped closer; close enough that you caught that same clean, scent from last night and tipped his head toward the side building.
“Come here.”
You frowned. “Why?”
“Because, I asked nicely.” he said, already turning away.
You should’ve kept walking but instead you followed like a duckling. Past the clatter and hum of the main walkway, through a side door into one of the quiet hospitality rooms no one was using.
The door clicked shut behind you, muting the paddock noise.
“Why are we-?” you started, but then he was there, crowding just enough to back you against the wall, one hand braced beside your head. His eyes held yours, steady, unreadable except for the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth.
“Still loud?” he asked quietly.
You didn’t get to answer before he leaned in and kissed you.
Frozen in place, not able to move or do anything you held your breath.
You shouldn´t be kissing one of the drivers or better, he shouldn´t be kissing you and why the fuck did it feel so incredibly right?
It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t gentle either, like he’d been thinking about it last night just like it had followed you into your wine tinged dreams and decided patience was overrated. Warm, deliberate, certain. You inhaled sharply
By the time he drew back, your headache was still there but had been demoted to background noise.
“That’s not fair.” you said, voice unsteady and breathy.
“I know.” he replied, unapologetic.
He reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled something out and pressed it into your hand. You looked down. A keychain - small, silver, shaped like a sleek little race car.
“Figured you needed a replacement.” he said. “Better than your last one too.”
You stared at it, then back at him. “You— when did you even— What?”
He didn’t answer. Just gave you one more look, like he was memorizing something, and stepped back toward the door.
“See you later, Peach.”
And then he was gone again, leaving you alone in the quiet room, holding a brand-new keychain and wondering how you were supposed to get through the rest of the day like nothing had just happened.
The whole afternoon had been a blur after that.
Cars on track, pit stop stats in your ear, cameras to dodge, drivers to chase for post-race comments and through all of it, you couldn’t shake it.
The kiss.
It had been hours ago and still sat in your chest like a live wire. Every time you caught sight of red in the corner of your eye, your head turned automatically. But he was busy.
By the time the chequered flag dropped, you’d resigned yourself to carrying the buzz home with you.
And then Ferrari scored a podium.
The media pen was chaos. Jeonghan looked like a headline with his still champagne slick hair, suit darkened at the shoulders, grin loose and easy for the cameras. You held your mic out for other drivers, but your eyes kept snagging on him across the way, the way his hand raked through his hair between answers or the way he laughed at something his Joshua said.
By the time the pen cleared and the crew around you thinned, you’d already made the decision.
You caught him just as he stepped away from his last interview, grabbing a water bottle from a Ferrari staffer. “Walk with me for a moment.” you demanded and didn´t wait for an answer.
He blinked, amused. “Bossy.”
“Now!” you insisted, already turning toward one of the quieter side corridors. He followed without any kind of argument and you didn’t stop until the sounds of the paddock faded enough that you could hear your own heartbeat. He leaned on the wall, still smiling faintly. “So what’s the ru—
You kissed him.
It wasn’t neat. Champagne still on his skin, the faint taste of whatever sports drink he’d been handed earlier, but it was yours. Your choice. Your pace. Your kiss.
When you pulled back, your pulse was hammering and your voice came out lower than you expected. “That’s mine. This morning was yours. Now we’re even.”
His eyes dropped to your mouth, then back up. “Even, huh?”
You nodded, but it felt weak with the way he was looking at you.
“Not sure I agree.” he murmured, leaning in again a little slower this time, giving you the chance to stop him.
The second kiss was warmer, surer, the kind that settled low and deep and left your legs feeling untrustworthy. When he pulled back, his grin had gone crooked. “Now we’re even.”
Before you could fire back, he stepped away, still walking backward like he couldn’t resist having the last word. “See you, Peach.”
You stood there for a moment, breathing hard, wondering how you were going to survive the rest of the season like this.
----------
You arrived early in Silverstone.
Not because you were eager to travel, okay maybe a little, but because Sky had decided your face should be present at Tag Heuer’s annual pre-race charity event. Which, in layman’s terms, meant a black-tie gala filled with more champagne than sense.
The dress had been a deliberate choice. Sinfully expensive, cut to show exactly what you wanted it to, in a bold red that made you feel just a little dangerous. You’d told yourself it was for the cameras and not for Jeonghan. But who were you trying to fool..
You’d picked it because you knew exactly Jeonghan would be there.
By the time your car pulled up to the venue, a sprawling glass-walled space lit like something out of a luxury watch commercial, most attending were already inside. Yoou could see them through the tall windows: clusters of mostly suits and gowns, laughter over the soft hum of a live string quartet you´d find horribly cliche on a normal day. But not today. Today you were on a mission.
You stepped out, the evening air cool against bare shoulders, heels clicking on the stone as you crossed to the entrance. Cameras that captured the event flashing as you posed with one or two executives before walking inside.
Inside, the lighting was low and golden, champagne glasses catching the glow. A wall of Tag Heuer branding loomed over the entrance where a few photographers tried to wrangle drivers into posed shots. You spotted a few familiar faces instantly. San in an immaculately tailored black suit, Keeho laughing with someone near the bar, Hyunjin leaning in to talk to a small group by the far wall.
And there, near the center of the room, was Ferrari red. Not in his racing suit, but Jeonghan in a black tux with a deep red pocket square; subtle, but it matched your dress enough to make you wonder if he’d been deliberate too. The little voice on your shoulder scolding you for thinking so instantly.
He was mid conversation with a pair of older guests, smiling politely, glass of champagne in hand. He hadn’t seen you yet.
Your pulse kicked up, and you told yourself it was just the heels, the room, the noise. And the atmosphere of the venue that made you feel far fancier then you were probably.
Jeonghan however on his side of the room was almost dying of boredom. The continuous talk board decisions he didn´t understand, brand endorsments he wasn´t even part of and old men cracking jokes that weren´t even remotely funny had him wishing for someone to come save him. His eyes flew over the room. Joshua was laughing with Mingi over something he hadn´t heard and he was stuck with a reporter that didn´t know when to stop talking.
Until he heard you laugh.
His spine straightened at the melodic sound reaching him even over the chattering of a room filled with people. He hadn´t even known you would attend too but suddenly his evening seemed much better and when his eyes found you standing at the entrance, he swallowed hard.
Whatever gentlemanly autopilot he had been running short-circuited instantly.
His head turned the rest of the way, eyes locking on you like he’d just been sucker punched. The noise of the room might as well have dropped out. His posture changed entirely. No more casual lean, no more restless shifting. Stillness, except for the slow, deliberate sweep of his gaze from the bare curve of your shoulders down the line of that bold red dress and back up again.
He swallowed again. Once. Twice. You saw the faintest tightening in his jaw, like he was fighting the urge to react any bigger than that in public.
The reporter kept talking, but Jeonghan didn’t even pretend to listen now. His eyes tracked you as you moved across the floor, taking in every step, every sway of fabric, the unapologetic way you wore that colour.
By the time you reached them, his lips had parted slightly, like he’d been about to speak and forgot how.
“Evening, gentlemen.” you said smoothly, letting the smile on your mouth play just enough to make him wonder.
He blinked once, dragged his gaze back to your eyes, and for a moment you swore you saw him lose his footing internally. “You-” He stopped, exhaled, tried again. “You look…” His voice dropped, almost like he meant it for you alone. “…gorgeous.”
The reporter, suddenly aware of the shift, took off with a polite, “I’ll let you two catch up.” and stepped away.
Jeonghan’s eyes followed them for exactly half a second before they were back on you. “You wore that on purpose.” Not a question.
You lifted your champagne in a small shrug. “Maybe.”
He laughed quietly, but his gaze lingered, tracing, returning to your face, dropping again, like he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t ask me to say I don’t like it,” he murmured, “because I can’t.”
The reporter was gone.
Which left you and Jeonghan in the middle of a room glittering with glass, gold light, and the low hum of expensive conversation. Somewhere behind you, the string quartet eased into something slow and rich, but all you noticed was him; the way his gaze had barely left you since you walked in.
You took a slow sip of champagne, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re staring.”
“I am.” he agreed without hesitation.
“Bold,” you murmured, lowering the glass. “In a room full of cameras, people might think you like me.”
His mouth curved. “Let them then.”
That was all the invitation you needed to close the space between you to stand not directly in front of him, but to his side, close enough that the fabric of his tux nearly brushed your bare arm. Close enough that when you looked up, you had to tilt your chin to meet his eyes.
His gaze dipped immediately, tracing the bold red sweep of your dress and the way it caught the light before coming back to your face.
“You’re quiet,” you said softly. “That’s… new. I´m not sure i like it.”
He studied you for a beat, then, “You do that on purpose?”
“What?”
“Stand that close and pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.”
You smiled slowly, the corners of your mouth curling like you were letting him in on a secret. “Maybe I don’t pretend.”
His fingers tightened slightly on the stem of his champagne glass. “That’s dangerous.”
“I thought you liked dangerous.” You tilted your head, hair sliding over your shoulder. “Or was that just a line?”
“Not a line.” His voice had gone lower, just for you.
“Good,” you said, your eyes flicking deliberately to his pocket square. “Because if it was, I’d be really fucking disappointed.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, but his attention didn’t waver. You could feel it in the air between you, heavier now and drawn tight.
“You smell good.” you said suddenly like you’d just noticed.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “So do you.”
“I know.” You let the words land before adding, “But you should probably stop looking at me like that unless you want people to notice.”
“And if I don’t care who notices?”
You let your gaze drop to his mouth for just a heartbeat before meeting his eyes again. “Then you might be exactly the kind of trouble I was hoping to find tonight.”
His breath caught almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t step back. If anything, the space between you seemed to shrink even more.
He didn’t answer right away, just held your gaze, the weight of it settling low and warm in your stomach. Then his eyes flicked over your shoulder, scanning the crowd, before returning to you.
“Come with me.”
It wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t a question.
“Bossy.” You said, throwing his words from last weekend back at him.
“Effective,” he smiled and without waiting for your agreement, he shifted so you naturally fell into step beside him. The moment felt like a deja vu.
The crowd thinned as he led you toward the edge of the main hall, past various groups of guests absorbed in their own conversations, past the bar where a line of champagne flutes caught the light like glass fire. You passed through an open archway into a smaller but not less impressively extravagant room. It was one of those side spaces meant for private sponsor chats; lit softer, quieter, the music just a faint hum through the walls.
He stopped only when you were far enough from the doorway that no one could casually glance in and see you.
Your back found the edge of a small display table, the surface cool through the fabric of your dress. He was standing close enough that you could catch that same clean, citrus-edged scent you’d first noticed in Austria.
“This better be important,” you said, your voice low but with that teasing lift you knew he’d pick up on.
“Oh, it is.”
His eyes flickered down again to your mouth, then back up. The silence between you stretched just long enough for your pulse to trip over itself.
“Still staring.” you murmured eyes also focused on his mouth just as you bit your lip in anticipation.
“I warned you,” he said, and it wasn’t clear if he meant about the staring or the fact that he didn’t care who noticed.
You tilted your chin up, deliberately closing the height gap. “And here I thought you brought me over here to talk.”
His mouth curved, slow and deliberate. “I didn’t.”
The air seemed to narrow around you both. You could feel every inch of him in the space between, like one wrong move, or the right one, would tip you forward into something you couldn’t take back
“You’re going to have to do better than looking at me like that.” you said, and the smirk you gave him was pure challenge.
It worked.
He stepped in just enough for the hem of his jacket to brush your hip, one hand braced on the table beside you. His other hand lifted, fingers skimming lightly along your jaw.
The warmth of his touch lingered as his thumb traced a slow, absent path just under your cheekbone. “Better?”
“Better...” you breathed, not breaking eye contact.
And then his mouth was on yours. Again. And this time you reciprocated eagerly.
It was certain, deliberate, like he’d decided the moment he saw you in that dress that tonight was going to end with this. The taste of champagne lingered between you, the faint press of his palm anchoring you where you stood.
When he finally drew back, you found yourself leaning in the smallest fraction, not ready to lose the heat of him.
“Better.” you said again, softer this time.
He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek once more before stepping back. “Good.”
When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. His breath was still brushing your skin, his hand still cupping the side of your face like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.
Neither were you.
Your eyes stayed on his, searching for something, you didn’t even know what , but you found yourself leaning into the curve of his palm anyway. His thumb traced a slow path along your cheekbone, almost absent-minded, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your face.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The muffled hum of the gala next door was the only sound, but it felt far away, like this small room existed in its own bubble of time.
His gaze dipped to your mouth again before returning to your eyes. There was no rush in him now, just quiet intent, like he was reading you as much as he was looking at you. His fingertips slid lightly down the line of your jaw, brushing the edge of your neck before curling back.
You exhaled slowly, the warmth of his touch still clinging to your skin. “You always this patient?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be.
“Not always.” he said, his thumb brushing just under your lower lip now. “Only when it counts.”
It wasn’t a threat, but it made your pulse skip all the same.
You let your hand rest lightly on his chest, fingertips catching on the smooth edge of his lapel. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. If anything, he seemed to lean into it, the faintest shift of weight toward you.
His free hand found your waist, not gripping, just a steadying presence, his thumb brushing the fabric of your dress in a barely-there rhythm.
The heat of it stayed, even when his hand slid away, slow and unhurried. His gaze followed, and when he finally met your eyes again, it felt like a promise neither of you had spoken aloud yet.
Eventually, the murmur of the gala on the other side of the door crept back into focus. You both knew you had to move, though neither of you seemed in any hurry to do so.
Jeonghan’s hand slid from your waist last, fingers brushing over the side seam of your dress like he was reluctant to let go. He didn’t look away as he stepped back, straightening his jacket with the same composure he’d walked in with, though his eyes gave him away.
When you finally pushed open the door, the golden light of the main hall spilled over you both. The room was just as loud and bright as you’d left it, but something between you had shifted, enough that you felt it even before you saw the way his gaze swept the crowd, checking the distance before falling into step just behind your shoulder.
He didn’t touch you again, not in any way someone could point to, but you felt him. The subtle shift of air when he moved closer to speak to someone in passing, the way his arm brushed yours for half a heartbeat as you reached for another glass of champagne from a passing tray.
He stayed near; close enough that if you turned, you’d meet his eyes without having to search for him. And each time you caught him looking, he didn’t look away. Instead, his gaze would linger, soft and steady, before flicking elsewhere like he’d said enough without speaking.
When another driver joined your conversation, Jeonghan stayed within the same orbit, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, listening without needing to insert himself. But when you laughed at something, his head tilted, watching you in a way that felt intimate.
The champagne in your hand had nothing to do with the warmth currently running hot under your skin. It was him. Always in the corner of your awareness, not pressing, not claiming, just there.
And you realized, as the evening stretched on, that it was almost worse than if he’d touched you outright. Because now you were counting the inches, waiting to see which one of you would close them again.
The night air was cooler than you expected. It slipped over your bare shoulders as soon as you stepped out of the venue, the murmur of the gala fading behind you. The sharp scent of fresh-cut grass mixed with the faint tang of rain on the pavement.
You’d meant to just call your driver, go back to the hotel and file the whole night under work obligations in your head.
But he was there, leaning against one of the stone lions near the steps, jacket open now, bow tie gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. He looked like someone who’d decided the party inside had given him everything it could and that whatever he wanted now was out here.
“You leaving?” Jeonghan asked, voice quieter than it had been all night.
“Yeah.” you said, glancing back at the doors before meeting his eyes again. “Work in the morning.”
He nodded once, then pushed away from the pillar and closed the distance between you in a few easy steps. Not too close, not like earlier but close enough that you could see the softness in his gaze, the way the gala’s warm light from behind haloed the edges of his bleached but slightly grown out hair.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, “You know this isn’t… nothing, right?” he said.
The words landed heavier than you expected.
You searched his face. “What isn’t?”
“Whatever’s going on between us.” He said it like a fact, not a guess.
Your heartbeat ticked up a notch. “That’s… an interesting choice of timing for this conversation.”
The air between you tightened the way it always did. Not from the champagne or the music or the crowd, but from the way his attention settled on you like he’d stripped everything else away.
You exhaled slowly. “Alright. So we acknowledge it.”
His head tilted slightly. “And we don’t ignore it.”
You hesitated, then let your mouth curve into the faintest smirk. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Only about this.” he said, no hesitation at all.
You weren’t sure who moved first. Him leaning in a fraction or you leaning toward him, but the space between you shrank until you could feel the warmth radiating off him, even without touching.
“Guess we’ll see where it goes,” you murmured.
He smiled like he already had a plan. “Guess we will.”
---------
You noticed it before he said a single word.
Thursday morning in the paddock was its usual mix of barely contained chaos. Drivers moving between interviews, engineers disappearing into hospitality, cameras swinging in every direction. You were working in the pen, angling for a better position when a crew tried to squeeze through behind you.
A warm touch found the small of your back with just enough pressure to shift you an inch to the side. Not a shove, not lingering, just careful. You turned your head and found Jeonghan there, eyes already on you, the smallest private smile curling at the edge of his mouth before he stepped past.
It was nothing. It was everything. The warmth stayed long after he was gone.
----------
On Friday it was harder to convince yourself you’d imagined the change. FP1 and 2 was busy, the air full of the sharp scent of rubber and fuel when the drizzle started. You’d barely registered it before a shadow slipped into place beside you, the faint scent of citrus cutting through the damp
Jeonghan didn’t say a word, just tilted his umbrella so it covered you both while his gaze stayed on the track while the engineers prepared the car. The edge of his arm brushed yours each time the wind shifted.
-----------
Saturday was no quieter. The pen after qualifying was a wall of noise, drivers trading places in front of the mics while PRs gestured frantically from the sidelines. You were wrapping up with another team when you saw him two spots over, cap pulled low, hair damp, answering questions with that careful composure he wore after a heavy session.
You didn’t expect him to notice you, not with the crowd pressed around him, but mid-answer, his gaze flicked past the mic, found you and stayed there for a beat too long. No smile, no signal. Just that steady, deliberate weight, like he’d gone looking for you. When he turned back to the reporter, there was the faintest curve at the edge of his mouth, subtle enough you almost thought you’d imagined it.
------------
Sunday brought the grid walk and the kind of crowded tarmac that felt like its own race. VIPs, photographers, mechanics, all trying to occupy the same narrow strip between the cars. You were weaving toward a guest you needed to mic when someone brushed your arm just firmly enough to make you glance over.
Jeonghan again, this time slowing his stride to match yours for a handful of paces. His hand ghosted over the curve of your elbow, a light touch that felt more like reassurance than guidance.
“Busy?” he asked, his voice almost swallowed by the noise.
“Always.” you replied without looking away from the chaos ahead.
He gave a small nod, fingers falling away as he moved toward his car, and the crowd closed between you. The warmth stayed, stubborn as ever.
-----------
By the time the race was over, the paddock had slipped into that slower rhythm it always found on Sunday evenings. Crew members packed away equipment in loose groups, the smell of burnt rubber giving way to the faint sweetness of spilled champagne.
You were heading toward the Sky truck when you saw him across the lane; jacket unzipped, hair still damp from the spray, walking with his PR. You didn’t expect him to change course, but he did stride straight toward you.
No cameras, no witnesses close enough to catch the shift in his expression as he stopped in front of you. He didn’t touch you outright, but his arm stayed just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him in the cooling air.
“See you in Belgium.” he asked, like there was never a question about whether you would.
And somehow, between the umbrella, the glances, the lightest touches, and the way his presence had shadowed yours all weekend, you knew the answer was already written on your face.
Belgium - Spa Francorchamp
The message came just after breakfast.
Unknown
You up for dinner tonight, peach?
You stared at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen. You had no idea how he’d gotten your number. No idea if this was something he did often. And no idea why your pulse jumped at the thought of answering.
So far, you hadn’t replied in the hectic of race day and by the time you made it to the paddock, the message was buried under weather updates, timing sheets and your boss urging you to be more proactive today.
When the formation lap rolled out, you were in the Sky box, headset on, eyes fixed on the monitors. The rain had stopped long enough ago to start the race without further delay, the track still slick in some places in ways that left your stomach feeling nervous.
The laps blurred together in the steady rhythm of commentary and sector times. You tracked him each time the red of the Ferrari cut through a corner, watched the seconds shift in tenths. He was running clean, holding position and defending against alpine effortlessly.
And then came lap 37.
It happened way to fast in a moment where you were busy scribbling down how Jake was repeatedly trying to overtake Jeonghan with an approach far to aggressive then the situation needed. A moment in which your eyes left the monitor for just 5 seconds while they were taking the line into Turn 8 and the next there was a flash of Alpine cutting across the camera’s frame, too close and way to fast for your liking.
The Impact was brutal, sending the Ferrari right into the wall with a loud crunch of carbon hitting the barrier that echoed through the feed and your bones before the picture cut to another angle, debris scattered over the tarmac.
Your breath hitched, heart stumbled painfully in your chest before stopping. At least that’s what it felt like.
Your throat closed uncomfortably, the chatter in your headset a suddenly a mumbled blur of voices, the monitor on the wall showing bright red car parts ripped apart, Frontwing weirdly bent into the air and far to still.
And that was where everything stopped for you.
Smoke rose from where the engine was trapped under fiber, barrier wrapped around the nose of the car like a blanket it wasn’t supposed to be wrapped up in.
“Ohhh and that’s Yoon in the wall while Sim has disappeared behind the Turn! It doesn’t look good for the Ferrari driver who has yet to make and attempt to get out of the car. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a Red Flag any moment now.”
David Crofts voice was only background noise, muted and covered by the raging storm inside your head.
The Red Flag notification popped up on the screen followed by an investigation of Car 24 (SJY) for causing a collision.
Papaya orange flashed, almost taking out a Sauber by slingering after hitting some debris scattered on the track as the drivers still behind brushed by before returning to the Pit lane.
Marshalls already on standby ready with fire extinguishers standing on the side line just as the first flames flickered near the right tyre in the back. The rose quickly but no movement from Jeonghan who looked like his head was slumped forward as he was fighting to stay conscious.
“Still no sign from Yoon.”
You stilled, breathing getting harder the longer you watched.
The medical car arrived just as the first wave of white fog hit the flames, quickly dyeing down as the marshals worked to get it out.
You watched. Watched how the medical leaned over the halo to check for any kind of life sign.
It felt like time was put on hold or at the very least into slow-motion, only speeding up again when with a lot of help Jeonghan was lifting himself out of his seat, his sluggish figure proof that he wasn’t okay. But he was moving and that, for the moment was enough to kick you into gear again. You jumped up, ignoring the clipboard clattering to the floor and Yuna flinching out of her fixed on the screen stupor before you were out of the door.
“Wait where are–“
Even if you had stayed long enough, you probably wouldn’t have heard her either way with the way you tunnel visioned as you made your way deeper into the paddock where the medical area.
The fact that your media pass didn’t grant you enough access to the med building didn’t even register until you were held back by security.
“I know, I know but please, I need to know that he’s okay! Please…” you begged the bulky man standing guard in front of the sliding door, the pity in his eyes at the sight of your desperation evident but not enough to sway him into letting you inside.
“I’m sorry ma’am but I still can’t let you in. I’m sure he is okay though” He said trying to reassure you which did absolutely nothing. “But between us, the medical car hasn’t arrived yet.”
The second part was said significantly quieter then the first, the words only meant for your ears.
The implication took a little to settle in.
If the medical car wasn’t here yet, that meant that it would arrive any moment now, meaning that even if you weren’t allowed inside, you were still able to see him just for a few moments which would hopefully calm your racing head and heart.
“He’s not here yet?”
“No, ma’am.”
You nodded quickly and watched the man step back into his position now that you weren’t trying to get past him any more. You turned around, inhaling deeply to try and regulate your breathing a little, almost like self meditation that failed to do its job spectacularly.
It was only when the flashing yellow lights of the medical car came skidding around the corner that you somehow managed to slow down.
Well less slowing down but more freeze in fear until it stopped mere 2 meters away.
The door back door opened and out climbed Dr. Ian Roberts, half carrying Jeonghan, half dragging him out.
His helmet was off already, making it obvious how out of it he really was.
Jeonghan hair was sweat slick, his eyes glassy and shaky as he had trouble to focus on keeping them open.
“Oh god, Jeonghan!”
Somehow, even when struggling to focus, his eyes fixed onto you standing there like a lost duckling.
“Hi, peach..” he rasped, voice weak and almost inaudible.
The team waiting for their arrival rushed past you, gurney ready to strap him down and roll him inside.
None of them bothered to give you even a glance, only Jeonghan focusing on you with a lazy smile.
And then he was rolled away
Nobody let you in, nobody gave you any information.
You just sat on the 2 steps in front of the medical building wondering why he wasn’t rushed to the hospital.
“You look worried.”
Eyes focused on the gravel underneath your feet you didn’t react at first.
“I don’t appreciate this frown on you, peach.”
If someone were to ask later you probably would have told them your face must have been the definition of ???.
A little banged up but upright, Jeonghan leaned against the wall next to the entrance, someone from staff standing close enough to step in in case he needed immediate rescue.
“What the fuck?”
“Is that how you kiss your mother, baby? Such a foul mouth you’ve got there. Lucky for you I kind of like it.” The wink he gave you was a little of kilter but otherwise completely fine.
You jumped up the stair, crashing into his body and almost taking him out yourself with the force with which you crashed into him and held him close.
“Never do that again, you ass!”
Arms sneaking around your waist after steading himself
“And you don’t sit in the rain for almost an hour. I’m not important enough to risk a cold!” he hummed into your ear.
Had he not still looked as white as a sheet you might have considered smacking him for that. Instead you ignored it to ask how he was feeling with your hand holding his face to make him look at you.
“Concussion, cracked rib and a murder headache but alive and ready to haunt you again.”
“You are—”
“Ready to go home? Absolutely. But I’d rather stay here with you if that means having you look at me like this a little longer.”
“I hate you. And I hate that you worry me so easily! What did you do to me you asshole.”
“Baby its called falling for someone. Just like I’m falling for you.”
You didn’t notice the staff pulling away and disappearing inside.
Carefully you looked over his face trying to see if he was lying about his state. He already looked butter then just an hour before.
Had you really been waiting for him that short? To you it felt like ages longer.
“You really are okay?”
“As okay as I can be, I promise.”
His hand slid over yours, kissing the inside of your hand for reassurance before linking your fingers.
“And for the record, I’m keeping you off the record for as long as my forcefull vacation will allow me.”
Bold of him to assume you had anything against that.
Especially since you got to play nurse…
I WANTED TO SAVE IT TO THE DRAFTS. WHY DID IT POST????
well guess it's to late now
HR meets Heart
Pairing — HR!Xu Minghao x HR!afab!Reader
Summary — When you didn't get the promotion you were licking your fingers for, you weren't at all amused. When it was the one person you were sure was out for your every last nerve to get said promotion, you were even less amused. Now stuck with a new boss you loathed you were sure you'd go insane — but what if it's in a different way then you thought....
Genre — fluff, enemies to lovers au
Warnings — suggestive, language, alcohol
Word Count — 5.4k
Rating — PG-13
A/N — i thank my coworker who ping ponged dialoge at work with me for almost 2 hours and one of my dance girls who beta read this after my emotional breakdown over the deadline for this. Neither have tumblr but still thanks S & E💕
Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!
This work is part of the SHOWBIZ collab by @studioeisa ! Please check it out!
The rain pattering against the windows of your office started to get on your nerves. Its been a few hours since you started your day and the grey of the sky, the chill of the wind and the constant patter against the glass left you unsettled in a way you hadn't been in a longtime. Your nerves frayed and more then a little tired you stared down at the file that had landed on your desk. It felt like the bad weather of the last week had drained every bit of energy you had and you desperately waited for the sunny days that came with the season of spring.
You were restless, shifting in your chair and tapping your ballpoint pen against the surface of the desk, clicking over and over again. The report seeming to glare as much as a disgruntled wife for not having been worked over yet.
The list of possible future artists for Sebong Company demanding attention you couldn’t concentrate on giving at that moment and you cursed the man who had put it down in front of you with that much to smug grin of his. Given it wasn’t much of a grin, more a barely contained tug of the corner of his mouth but you knew what it meant. What it implicated as he almost strutted out of your office.
Xu Minghao. Manager of HR. Pain in your ass and the man who had gotten the very same promotion you had worked towards to.
"Seokmin has reviewed the audition tapes already, now it's on you to get them signed." He had said seeing the baffled look on your face.
Unsure you had taken the folder from the man grating on your nerves with every time he'd open his month.
"Isn't that Soyeon's job? Who's literally 2 offices down the hall, mind you?"
"And now it's yours. I think you're more then capable of a task like this as Soyeon will leave for a 3 week vacation."
"And now it's yours. I think you're more then capable of a task like this as Soyeon will leave for a 3 week vacation.”
It had taken everything for you now to reach for the stapler and throw it right at his head right then and there and you were sure, had he stayed in your office for one moment longer you might have actually done it. Minghao, as annoying as he always had been, was a smart man. He knew that working with future clients was not your expertise and that you, even with all your dedication to your job, were not the logical choice to take over for Soyeon in her absence. There were others in the department that were far better at handling clients then you were and you had now qualms in admitting to it.
But instead of throwing something you had only grated your teeth together and nodded.
Even accepting the siuggestion of bringing the forms right to his office instead of mailing them and saving yourself the torture of going to the office that should have been yours in the first place instead of his.
The office of the Head Manager of Sebong Corporates HR department.
The very same promotion you had been in the run for alongside Minghao. Him getting the promotion instead of you had not sparked your immense dislike for the man, it had been there long before that. About as long as you had started working for the, back then much smaller Company, around the same time as he did.
And if you had learned one thing with time was that Xu Minghao was exceptionally good at getting a rise out of you with the slightest raise of his perfectly plucked eyebrow and his far to heavy accent that made your stomach flip.
With disgust of course. (Of course…what else could it be;))
There were days where it seemed Minghao would leave you alone, leave you be and work in peace. And then there were days in which you felt he tried everything to get a reaction.
Appearing behind you without notice while you talked to someone in the hallway, startling you to the point where multiple reports or coffee cups were almost sent flying. Additional shift in which you were paired up with him and in which you forced yourself not to jump his throat. Emails send to your Inbox filled with nonsense like memes telling you to keep working. Him always using the last of copy paper and never filling the printer back up so you always ran out and had to do it yourself and the uneasy you felt when he called you something in mandarin.
Google translate has left you not knowing any better with that last one and you hated it.
And now you were still stuck staring at the file like it had personally wronged you, which, in a way, it had. Or at least, the person who’d brought it to your desk had.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair and watching the grey light from outside cast shadows across your screen. The soft clink of your pen dropping to the desk was the only sound you allowed before finally standing, pushing your chair back with a squeak that echoed just a little too loudly for comfort.
Yes, you absolutely could have mailed the damn thing just to spite him. Minghao, after had never explicitly said you had to bring it yourself. But the spiteful little part of you, the part that had been sitting in your heart since the day you watched Minghao move into the bigger office, said if he was going to try and test you with work that wasn’t yours, he’d at least have to look you in the eye when you handed it off with a smile so tight it made your jaw hurt.
The hallway to the corner office felt longer today. Or maybe that was just your mood clinging to your shoes and dragging your steps. You didn’t bother knocking as Minghao never did either when he barged into your space with his smug little quips and printouts, and the door creaked slightly as you pushed it open.
There he was.
Leaning back in the ridiculous leather chair that squeaked only when you sat in it, one leg crossed over the other like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t infuriatingly, effortlessly perfect in a way that made your blood boil and your skin prickle in the most inconvenient way.
Minghao looked up, his eyes catching yours instantly, as if he’d known you were coming. “I was wondering how long it’d take,” he said smoothly, setting his pen down and gesturing toward the desk with that damned smile of his. “Just put it there.”
You didn’t move.
You stared at him, expression carefully neutral because if you weren’t careful, you’d either start yelling or throwing something, or worse, you’d blush and you couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not with the way he was looking at you like he knew something you didn’t.
“You’re enjoying this,” you said finally, stepping forward and placing the folder down with a thump, as controlled as you could manage without slamming it straight into the table and his keyboard.
“Giving me extra work that you know I’m not the best fit for. Watching me try not to murder you on office grounds. It’s like your personal brand of entertainment.”
He tilted his head, just a little, eyes flicking from the folder to your face and back again. That infuriating almost smile threatened the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t let it bloom. At least not yet.
“I wouldn’t say entertainment,” he replied, his tone slow, deliberate, “but I do enjoy keeping you on your toes.”
Your jaw tightened when he looked entirely to innocent while those words came out of him
“I’m not your toy.”
“I never said you were,” he said, voice softening slightly, in that way that always threw you off more than it should. “You’re…a lot of things. But not a toy.”
You squinted. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He gave a quiet, breathy laugh — the kind you were sure had made interns and assistants weak in the knees more than once. You hated that you knew exactly what it sounded like.
“You can take it however you like.”
You opened your mouth to fire something back, something cutting, probably a little mean, because that’s how the two of you worked — but stopped short when your eyes flicked down to the desk and landed on the two coffee cups sitting near his keyboard. One was his usual order, you recognized it from the corner café downstairs. The other was yours.
The exact kind you always bought for yourself, right down to the extra coconut syrup and low fat milk.
He followed your gaze and leaned back in his chair with that air of maddening ease. “I thought you might need a boost-” he said casually, “given how grumpy you’ve been today. Or well, last few months...”
“I’m not grumpy,” you said immediately, then realized how that sounded. Defensive, sharp and grumpy.
His smile finally appeared in full, slow and devastating and far too pleased with himself.
You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel before he could say anything else. “If you keep this up, I really will throw the stapler next time.”
His voice followed you, low and amused, like he knew the exact kind of chaos he left behind every time he pulled stunts like this. “I’ll make sure to duck.”
The coffee was left behind.
You were many things and one of them was proud. To proud to take the little peace offering he seemed to have gotten.
Huffing you stormed back into your own office.
This man really was something. Did he really think a simple cup of coffee was gonna change the way you two dance around each other like some rivaling predators ready to pounce to defend their territory?
Oh really absolutely not. Not when Minghao tried to get a rise out of you at every possible moment.
Which is also why you nearly screamed when you came back from the restroom and found said coffee sitting on your desk with a bright pink post it attached to it.
"You forgot this in my office. Enjoy :)"
Very tempted to throw it away you left it sitting there feeling it's presence like a rain cloud from outside while you wend through your mails. The tiredness in your bones still hadn't went away over the last hour and maybe you were craving the sweet taste of your favorite beverage. And maybe you reached for it after reading the 4th complaint of one of your coworkers in other departments in which they complained about the construction site outside their office window. Like you were responsible in any way for the city to renew the street around the company.
Fuck. Minghao really had ordered it just how you liked.
“You're grumpy again."
Jumping out of your skin at the sudden appearance of your boss you glared at the chinese man as he leaned against the door frame, glasses almost slipping from his nose from sitting so low.
“I'm not."
Minghao huffed a laugh but didn't move closer. Rather he settled more against the frame.
"Tell that to your desktop. The poor screen is gonna go up in flames soon."
You eyed him once and softened your features. Even if just the slightest bit.
"Do you need something?"
The man shrugged and entirely ignored the question.
"How was the coffee?"
You stopped and turned to look at him. His presence filling the room but not in a smug way. He looked soft , put together and entirely to curious for your taste.
"You got it wrong."
It was a lie and you both new it.
"Sure it is."
"I repeat, do you need something?"
"Nothing, just thought you might miss me băobèi." His little shrug left you speechless and with your jaw almost on your desk to the point you even ignored the mandarin he had yet again slipped into his sentence.
“Wow,” he said lightly, breaking the silence that followed, voice now quieter then before.
“That might be the first time I’ve ever seen you speechless. Should I be worried? Or flattered?”
Still nothing.
But his eyes flickered to your mouth, just for a second and when his eyes met yours again, there was something in them.
You blinked slowly, needing a moment to recover, but the pause had already said too much.
Minghao tilted his head, letting the silence stretch, letting you sit with the fact that he had once again caught you of guard. This time however differently to what he usually did or said.
“Di- did you hit your head in your office just now?” you spluttered with wide eyes the hand on the computer mouse having gone completely still.
“Are you worried?”
“You- what- no!
“But you didn’t deny it.”
Your mouth opened, then closed again, and you were sure your brain had just done a hard reboot mid-thought.
“I didn’t deny it,” you said finally, fingers tightening slightly on the mouse, “because I was too busy trying to figure out if you’ve finally lost it.”
Minghao raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“So still no denial.”
You rolled your eyes, heart annoyingly loud in your chest. “I’m not worried, Minghao. I’m just… trying making sure you’re not having some kind of stroke. You know, suddenly deciding to be nice to me?”
“I’m always nice.”
You snorted. “No, no, no, no. If you were always nice, I wouldn’t have three separate folders on my desktop labeled ‘HR pain in my ass – Volumes I, II and III.’”
He didn’t even blink. “So you think about me often enough to label my niceness.”
You gaped. “That’s not—! It’s called workplace trauma, Xu!”
His smile spread wider.
“And yet you still haven’t denied it.”
And gone he was.
With a heavily beating heart you stared at the spot where the door gently clicked shut.
God you needed a drink. Now!
The break room was empty when you entered, which you were quite thankful for in that moment.
You needed a moment to take a breath. Or maybe three. Anything to take your mind off whatever it had been that had just happened.
What the freak had that been? And what was Minghao trying to achieve with it?!
You yanked open the fridge door and stared blankly at the contents like your life depended on it. It didn’t, but your hands were still warm from where they’d curled around your mouse during that completely unnecessary and maybe u settling conversation, and you swore you could still hear his voice echoing in your ears. That was unfair. That was workplace harassment. That was—
“Okay,” came a voice behind you, loud and mildly scandalized. “Who got under your skin this time?”
You jumped, whipping around with the fridge door still open and nearly knocking into Boo Seungkwan, Marketing Manager and full-time chaos detector.
He took one look at you and narrowed his eyes like a seasoned drama critic watching Vernon act out his newest movie in real time.
“Why do you look like someone just whispered something very not HR conform in your ear during a board meeting?”
“No Idea what you mean.” you said immediately, too fast and a bit high pitched which triggered Seungkwan’s distrust even more.
“Sure.” He crossed his arms, expression unchanging. “You’re fidgety. Your lips are almost bleeding from chewing on them and you’re staring into that fridge like it holds the answers to your entire emotional breakdown.”
“I’m not having a breakdown.” You grumbled a bit petulant.
He held up one hand, as if to signal he’d allow the lie just this once. “Okay. Fine. Not a breakdown. Got it.”
You groaned and closed the fridge. “Can’t I just be in the middle of a caffeine crisis without being interrogated like this?”
“Oh, babe, no.” he said, slipping past you to grab his sparkling water with far too much smugness. “Not when you come in here looking like you’ve just had a near death experience with that Hongjoong guy from your screensaver.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
You shouldn’t have and one look at the Marketing Manager told you that you would regret it.
Seungkwan’s eyes lit up like he’d just found the plot twist *and* the end credits.
“Oh my god. It was Hao, wasn’t it?”
You tried your best to safe your pride. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“You didn’t have to,” he sang, now grinning like a cat that had caught itxs prey.
“That face says everything. Did he finally flirt you into a corner?”
“No,” you hissed, though your voice cracked halfway through. “It wasn’t flirting. It was—it was just a conversation.”
One that left you reeling but if you said that out loud, Seungkwan would never let you live in peace again.
Not that he did that in the first place.
“Right.” Seungkwan sipped his water like it was wine while sittibg down at the long table. “The kind of conversation that leaves you breathless and checking your pulse in front of a fridge.”
“I hate you.” You grabbed your coffee, ready to flee. “And you’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Absolutely. Because finally” he called after you as you headed for the door, “ you started to catch up on what everyone else here sees when he looks at you.”
You stopped.
Turned slightly.
Ehh?????
“…What the hell do you mean the rest of us?”
Seungkwan smirked.
“Oh babe, we all noticed. Minghao is sarcastic with everyone. But with you, there’s this little sparkle in his eyes and he’s a lot softer in the way he talks to you then anyone else in this place.”
And with that, he pulled out his phone and started his break. Acting like he hadn’t just thrown you into a rollercoaster of emotions.
A few days later at a corporate gala you’re dressed to kill after trying to avoid Minghao for the past 3 days like your life depends on it and clinging onto your champagne to keep your cool.
The gala was everything you’d expected from Sebong Corporation and more. Something straight out of a movie and a sea of dressed to the nines people pretending they didn’t hate networking just as much as you did.
You stood near one of the bar, a half-empty glass of champagne in hand, nodding politely at someone from legal who was still talking about last quarter’s contract revisions. You hadn’t understood a single thing.
Way to busy with scanning the room.
More specifically, busy making sure Xu Minghao wasn’t within a 3 meter radius.
So far he wasn’t. You’d spotted him once a bit earlier. Tall and unfairly sharp looking in a black suit that fit like it a glove and his hair slicked back, his smile polite, and his eyes–
No! You wouldn’t allow your thoughts to go there.
You had successfully dipped every time he came even remotely close for the past hour.
Your new personal record, especially after the week you’d had, which consisted ignoring his mails,, escaping to “urgent meetings” the moment he entered a room, and very nearly ducking behind the office ficus once when he passed by too close to your desk.
You hadn’t done that but the thought was there.
You were in denial. And the champagne was helping you stay there.
“I see you’ve upgraded from ‘fidgety’ to ‘liquid courage’.” Came a voice to your right.
You didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Seungkwan, looking flawless in a silk tie and an expression that said he lived for nights like this — social chaos, good lighting, and corporate gossip served with shrimp cocktails. Everything you only survived with some strong whisky quickly thrown back before leaving your apartment.
“I’m networking” you said, sipping your drink.
“You’re pretending to network while checking for one specific threat like he’s Bowser in Super Mario 64 and you’re Princess Peach.”
“You really have a thing for over dramatizing things. Thats not even remotely what I was doing and Bowser at least had a castle.”
“Oh?” Seungkwan smiled into his glass. “So the running away, the drink refills every ten minutes, and the fact that you keep track of him to dip in time to not run into him is just… coincidence?”
You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temple. “I’m just trying to have one evening without… stress.”
“That being him breathing in your direction and making you question your entire personality?”
You pulled a face that very clearly showed how unamused you were by his deduction.
Seungkwan took pity. Just a little.
“Look, I get it. You two have that… thing. The tension. The banter. The enemies-but-not-really thing that feels like foreplay but sounds like an HR violation, which buy the way would land on your own desk if it came out. Or his.”
You nearly choked on your drink.
He just grinned. “All I’m saying is that pretending nothing’s happening might not be the best strategy.”
Before you could say anything his gaze flicked over your shoulder and instantly light up.
“Oh,” he said, far too pleased. “And look who just noticed you.”
You stiffened. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t say it Seungkwan.”
“He’s walking this way, babe.”
You turned, fully prepared to escape once again but it was too late. Minghao was already behind you and stepping into your personal space with the kind of calm that made your nerves bubble like your chmpagne
“Evening,” he said, voice smooth and low and criminal in the way it made your insides flutter.
You forced a smile. “Minghao.”
His eyes flicked to your glass. “Third one?”
You blinked. “Fourth actually.”
He hummed. “That’s cute.”
Seungkwan coughed, conveniently and very loudly. “Well. I’ll leave you two to whatever this is.”
He gestured wildly and disappeared before you could stare him down.
You turned back to Minghao, who was definitely fighting a smirk himself.
You hated him.
Hated the way he was looking at you like he knew exactly what yyou had been doing for the past hour. Like he’d let you run just to see how many times you’d try to flee from him.
“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, trying for neutral.
“It’s tolerable,” he said. “The view helps.”
You froze.
And again. EHH????
He raised his glass slightly in your direction. “You look good tonight.”
Your throat dried.
“Dito” you managed to grumble while keeping your voice low. “You look… good.”
“Mm.” That smirk was back. “So you’ve been looking.”
You downed the rest of your champagne and prayed someone would pull the fire alarm.
The air outside felt amazing on your skin. Cool, gentle, not enough to sober you, but just enough to make your head feel lighter than it already was.
You leaned against the iron railing of the terrace, empty champagne glass dangling between your fingers and the bubbles long gone but the warmth still bubbling in your system.
The heels on your feet hurt, your vision just the slightest bit swimming every time you blinked too slowly, and your brain was somewhere between *I need food* and *I miss the old Winx Club*.
More than anything, though, you were trying very hard not to think about Minghao.
Which of course, only made you think about him more.
The way he looked tonight. The sleek suit that did nothing to help your composure, the soft way his hair curled behind his ears, the tie just the slightest bit loose at his collar like even perfection had its limit. And the way he’d kept glancing your way even while conversing with a sponsor from all the way across the hall just long enough to make your stomach twist.
You were fine. Tipsy, sure. A little warm. A little emotionally unstable. But totally, completely fine.
And then the door behind you opened.
You felt him before you saw him. That presence, all calm and unsettlingly quiet, like standing too close to a fire that hadn’t caught flame yet.
“Didn’t take you for an escape artist.” Minghao said gently as he came to stand close enough for you to feel the heat of his body through your dress without touching you.
You snorted into your glass, too tired and too buzzed to be anything but honest.
“Didn’t take you for someone who would notice.”
“I always notice you.”
You turned your head, slowly. He wasn’t smirking or teasing. Just looking at you with that same steady gaze that made you feel weak in the knees.
“I came out for air.” you said, blinking harder than necessary. “And also because if I stood in that room for one more minute I was going to throw myself into the chocolate fountain.”
A soft laugh escaped him, low and surprised. “That’s fair I guess..”
You squinted at him. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be networking? Charming sponsors and artists? Making everyone wonder how you’re both terrifyingly polite and smug all at once?”
“I got bored,” he said. Then with a shrug: “And I saw you leave.”
You made a small sound; somewhere between a scoff and something more startled, annd looked back out over the city od Seoul.
“You’re gonna give me a complex one of these days.”
Minghao didn’t answer at first. Then, after a moment: “You’re glowing.”
Your head tilted slightly. “That’s the champagne.”
He hummed. “No. It’s you. When you’re not pretending you don’t like me.”
You laughed a little startled and a little too loud in the silence of the night.
“I don’t like you,” you said, but your voice cracked halfway through.
Minghao smiled slowly. “You’re drunk.”
You lifted your chin with an unconscious pout on your lips.
“I’m *tipsy.* That’s different.”
Minghao moved just slightly closer, enough that your breath caught a little in your throat.
“You’re soft when you drink.” he murmured. “It suits you.”
You narrowed your eyes — or tried to. The effect was more squinty than threatening.
“You think you can just… say things like that and not get punched?”
“Oh Băobèi, you won’t punch me.”
“Don’t test me, Xu.”
He laughed again, and something about the sound pulled at your chest like a thread unraveling.
“So tell me. Why were you running?”
“I wasn’t running,” you mumbled, nose wrinkling and still pouty t as you swirled that last drop of champagne around the glass.
“I was… briskly walking away from poor decisions.”
Minghao chuckled under his breath. “And I’m the poor decision?”
You didn’t answer. You just shrugged and gave him a side glance. The kind that was equal parts playful and infuriatingly unreadable.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you thought it.”
You sighed dramatically, leaning your elbow on the railing and pressing your cheek to your knuckles, suddenly very aware of how your earring brushed against the skin of your neck when you moved.
“You’re very full of yourself, you know that?” you said lightly.
Minghao chuckled.
“I get that a lot.”
“You should.” You nodded.
Minghao laughed again, softer this time, like he couldn’t help it, like it was just falling out of him now.
And when he looked at you again, it was different. Warmer and honest.
“You’re dangerous when you’re tipsy,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
You peeked up at him, eyes wide and a little too shiny from champagne, night air and the light of the skyline reflecting in them. “Why?”
“Because you’re cute,” he said, honestly. “And unpredictable. And because I want to kiss you so badly it’s starting to mess with my sense of logic.”
Your breath caught but instead of melting, you narrowed your eyes, lips pulling into a lazy, smug little smile.
“I am unpredictable” you said. “So maybe I’ll kiss you.”
He went still.
You leaned closer, just barely and lowered your voice. “Or maybe I’ll go back inside and pretend this never happened.”
He exhaled a soft breath through his nose, smiling like someone trying very hard not to break apart in real time. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
You tilted your head, eyes fluttering slightly. “Yeah? Well, if you die dramatically enough, I promise to attend the funeral in black and cry over your grave.”
Minghao shook his head with a breathless laugh, running a hand down his face. “God, you are so annoying.”
“And yet.” You blinked up at him, biting back a grin. “You’re still here”
He looked at you then. Really looked and you could see it happen. The silent unraveling. The moment he stopped trying to keep it together and let himself feel you.
All of you.
The pout. The teasing. The stubbornness. The ache and affection under every attempt to dodge his flirting.
“I am so screwed,” he said softly.
You let out a tiny hum. “You’ve been screwed since the first time I rolled my eyes at you when we started working at Sebong.”
“I knew it,” he whispered, eyes wide with mock offense. “That was flirting.”
You grinned, tipsy and victorious, and lifted your glass like a toast. “No it wasn’t.. and if it was you can’t prove it.”
“I don’t have to.” He closed the tiny gap still left between you.
“Because if you don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m going to.”
You raised a brow, head tilted to the side and your lips pursed. “Is that a threat?”
He leaned in, not quite touching but close enough that your breath brushed against his face.
“No,” he whispered, voice lower now. “That’s a promise.”
And for a moment, just one long champagne-dizzy second you didn’t push him away.
You didn’t tease.
You just stayed there, quiet and breathless, as the walls you had pulled up trembled in the presence of someone who saw through all of them.
You didn’t say a single clever thing.
You couldn’t even think of one and just looked at him.
Really looked.
At the way his hair curled ever so slightly at the ends. The way his eyes flew your face like he was memorizing every single detail on it. The way his breath caught just barely when your own hitched.
And then, before either of you could thinkk to much, you closed the space yourself.
It was barely a movement.
Just the softest lean forward, the smallest tilt of your head, the faintest brush of lips and still enough to ruin you completely.
Because the moment you kissed him, the world went quiet.
Minghao froze for the briefest second, like he couldn’t quite believe you would actually lean in and then melted into you like butter in the sun.
His hand found your waist. Not urgent or demanding, just there, steady and warm through the thin fabric of your dress. His other hand rose slowly, fingers ghosting over side of your face as his thumb brushed your cheek so gently it made your eyes flutter shut all over again.
It wasn’t a hungry nor was it rushed.
It was deliberate like something that had been waiting to happen for a long time.
Like Minghao wanted to savor every soft breath, every angle, every little noise that left you.
You kissed him back with that same slow ache, the champagne still bubbling through your veins but fading now under the heat blooming in your chest. Your hand curled lightly into the lapel of his jacket, anchoring yourself, like if you let go, you might float right out of your skin.
When you finally pulled back, just a breath apart, his eyes opened slowly.
He looked dazed.
Wrecked, in the quietest, most beautiful way.
“Okay,” he whispered, voice rougher now. “I take it back.”
You blinked up at him, still catching your breath. “Take what back?”
His thumb traced your jaw.
“I’m already yours.”
Your heart stuttered.
You tried to smirk — tried to throw up one last wall, one last quip, but it didn’t quite make it. It dissolved on your lips as he leaned his forehead gently against yours.
And for once, you let it happen.
You didn’t fight him.
Didn’t outrun the way your body leaned into him like it belonged there.
You just stayed.
Minghao’s arms around you, the city glowing quietly beyond the terrace, the kiss still burning on your lips.
No more games.
No more fighting.
Just this.
Inside were Seungkwan and Vernon, who high fived each other and threw their drinks back like it was apple juice.
Finally
THAT’S SHOWBIZ, BABY! 💼 AN SVT COLLABORATION
Welcome to the high-stakes world of rival medial moguls, The Carat Company and Sebong Corporation. From HR nightmares to boardroom powerplays, the lights are on and the cameras are rolling; our writers are taking you behind the scenes of the industry’s fiercest (and pettiest) workplace battles. Talent Managers Tara (@diamonddaze01) and Kae (@studioeisa) are proud to present: That’s Showbiz, Baby!
[TAG LIST] ✨ Book a conference room now to get exclusive access to every deal closed, memo leaked, and steamy office romance as it drops.
[HR NOTICE] 🔞 Some files in this archive are strictly 18+ and may contain NSFW material. Please review 📊 Key Deliverables and 📝 Meeting minutes for individual content warnings before entering a conference room.
📺 THE CARAT COMPANY.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 1: routine romance 🤝 Booked by @studioeisa, on behalf of talent recruiter!seungcheol and freelancer!reader. 📋 Agenda: you have a routine. a foolproof, tried and tested daily schedule. when the hell did choi seungcheol become part of it? 📊 Key Deliverables: humor, romance, pinch of angst. 📝 Meeting minutes: profanity, mentions of food. slowburn -ish, meet ugly, coffee shop romance, feelings realization/denial, seungcheol is a flirty bastard, discussions of freelancing/corporate life.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 2: Touching Yourself 🤝 Booked by @straylightdream, on behalf of actor!jeonghan and f!reader. 📋 Agenda: After a stressful day on set leaves him wondering if being an actor is really what he wants, he calls you. One phone call leads to both you crossing lines you never imagined you would cross. 📊 Key Deliverables: smut, friends to lovers, mutual pining, romance, comfort, angst. 📝 Meeting minutes: depression, anxiety, jeonghan is really going through it, severe stress from a job, alcohol consumption, crying, lots of emotions, mentions menstrual cycles.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 3: stars in the night sky 🤝 Booked by @simpxxstan, on behalf of actor!jeonghan and reader. 📋 Agenda: yoon jeonghan has not a care in the world throughout the day - he’s the prince, it’s his time to reign. a million autographs every day, an unending echo of fanchants, and jeonghan knows he’s the most desired man in the country right now. but when the flashlights dim, the curtains are drawn, and the monsters step out of the dark, there’s only one hand he wants to hold. only one pair of eyes make his heart smile, only one voice lulls him into sleep every night, only one scent he desires to drown in, only one touch that lets him find himself again. 📊 Key Deliverables: co-workers to lovers, grumpy x sunshine trope, angst, smut, light fluff. 📝 Meeting minutes: smut warnings to be added later (mdni!), bickering and verbal banter, no private space, anxiety and panic attacks, online bullying, trolling, breakdown of self-confidence, nightmares, lots of angst really, casual flirting, more warnings to be added later.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 4: Please, Block Me 🤝 Booked by @okiedokrie, on behalf of social media manager!joshua and reader. 📋 Agenda: Joshua Hong, 29, Social Media Manager. Forced to learn whatever meme lingo the kids are saying these days. Got harassed by the Social Media Manager of Queen Quesadilla when he used to work for King Taco; he quit. He works for The Carat Company now, where unfortunately, you followed. 📊 Key Deliverables: TBA. 📝 Meeting minutes: TBA.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 5: Typo and Error 🤝 Booked by @gotta-winwin, on behalf of social media manager!joshua and actress!reader. 📋 Agenda: Joshua loves his job as social media manager for The Carat Company, except for one thing: the actress he’s in charge of. you hate his guts, and Joshua swears he returns those feelings with vigor, and yet… forced to work in close proximity, Joshua’s forced to reckon with the idea that just maybe, despite all the animosity, he’s still madly in love with you. 📊 Key Deliverables: fluff, crack, slight angst. 📝 Meeting minutes: light swearing, mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, enemies to lovers(?), heavy denial of feelings, discussions of fame/film industry.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 6: Too Far 🤝 Booked by @lovetaroandtaemin, on behalf of Intern!Jun and Secretary!Reader. 📋 Agenda: When your friend suggested letting the new intern in your company's legal department move in with you, you had your doubts. As time went on, though, the two of you grew closer than you ever could have anticipated. The only problem was that you were certain that he didn't see you the same way you saw him. 📊 Key Deliverables: Angst, Fluff, Smut. Roommates to lovers 📝 Meeting minutes: Jun is a loser with jealousy problems, profanity, LOTS of suggestive/NSFW content that Will Be Determined Later, both of these fuckers need to work on their communication skills.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 7: company benefits 🤝 Booked by @studioeisa, on behalf of social media intern!junhui and copywriter!reader. 📋 Agenda: you can't really call wen junhui your ex-boyfriend. it was more of a friends with benefits situation—except you only got ghosted, while he got an internship at your recommendation. people always say to not bite the hand that feeds you; it looks like jun didn't get the memo. 📊 Key Deliverables: smut, romance, angst with a happy ending. 📝 Meeting minutes: profanity, mentions of food & alcohol consumption, job loss. ex-situationship, forced proximity, so much tension..., nepotism!!!, marketing terms, soonyoung gets his own warning.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 8: Be My Tigress? 🤝 Booked by @svtiddiess on behalf of Marketing Manager!Hoshi and Assistant Manager!Reader. 📋 Agenda: After moving halfway across the world to Korea, you landed a job as an Assistant Manager at Carat Company, a media company known for television production, music management, and digital content creation. Your boss, Soonyoung—though he insists everyone call him Hoshi—turned out to be an absolute whirlwind of chaos. From tiger-themed stationery and tiger-themed office décor to a full-on tiger fursuit, his relentless dedication to his so-called "tiger agenda" has left you questioning your sanity on more than one occasion. (Seriously, what even is a horanghae??) As you adjust to your new life and career, one question keeps nagging at you: how has he not been fired yet? No, really—why hasn't anyone reported this insane man to HR? 📊 Key Deliverables: crack, fluff, slightest of angst, smut, office romance. 📝 Meeting minutes: Tiger agenda is strong in this one, Hoshi is very unserious (and a diva), unrealistic workplace environment, multiple sex scenes, HR pls don't fire Hoshi.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 9: Beyond the Transcripts 🤝 Booked by @joonsytip, on behalf of CEO!wonwoo and Head of Legal!Reader. 📋 Agenda: Jeon Wonwoo, the calmest and untainted CEO to ever exist, gets his world shaken up when he finds you again, as the legal department head at his own company and your only registered family is a little guy who resembles him a bit too much. Alternatively, you are smooth in onboarding Wonwoo into your son's life but problems arise when he tries to slide back into yours. 📊 Key Deliverables: angst, smut, fluff, exes to co-parents to lovers. 📝 Meeting minutes: themes of co parenting, mentions of past difficult pregnancy, misogynistic slurs being used at workplace, minor accident.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 10: Prologue To ??? 🤝 Booked by @chugging-antiseptic-dye, on behalf of HR Manager!Jihoon and Operations Manager!Reader. 📋 Agenda: You did not know HR manager Jihoon. You did not want to know HR manager Jihoon. However when fate throws you and an unconscious body to make his acquaintance, you realize that still water truly holds its depths. And maybe diving in head first was not the best decision. Yet, what else could you do? The show must go on. 📊 Key Deliverables: Horror, Murder Mystery, Paranormal, Psychological Thriller, Suspense, Urban, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. 📝 Meeting minutes: POV Switching, Amnesia, Blood, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Injury, Kidnapping, Morally Grey Characters, Mentions of Death/ Murder, Body Horror, Descriptions of Injury, Nightmares, Substance Abuse, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Coworkers to maybe lovers, Ambiguous Open Ending.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 11: Emails I Can't Send 🤝 Booked by @diamonddaze01, on behalf of Managing Director of HR! Jihoon and Planning and Recruitment Specialist! Reader. 📋 Agenda: Jihoon has always been clear: work is work, and co-workers are co-workers. Boundaries keep things clean. Professional. Predictable. As Managing Director of HR at The Carat Company, that's exactly how he likes it. But when a too-charming, too-bright former Sebong Corp employee joins his team, Jihoon is forced to confront the one boundary he may no longer be able to hold: the one between you and him. 📊 Key Deliverables: humor, fluff, angst with a happy ending. 📝 Meeting minutes: epistolary, suggestive for sure, consumption of alcohol.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
📺 SEBONG CORPORATION.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 1: An Alluring Score 🤝 Booked by @seoloquent, on behalf of Artists and Repertoire Representative!DK and Conductor!Reader. 📋 Agenda: Willing to risk everything, his career included, Seokmin knew you had to be the one in charge of Sebong Corp’s newest feature film’s score soundtrack. The only issue was, you had no physical proof of experience. Despite the doubts coming from executives, your family, and even yourself, Seokmin resolved to help you prove everyone wrong, and showcase your alluring score to the world. 📊 Key Deliverables: fluff, humor, slight angst, strangers to lovers. 📝 Meeting minutes: seokmin has a slight issue with boundaries (could be a little annoying), depictions of misogyny, grief, mentions of death (not important character), inaccurate representation of film industry (I did as much research as I could!).
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 2: LoserBoy vs. HaterGirl 🤝 Booked by @gyubakeries, on behalf of Social Media Intern!Mingyu and IT Specialist!Reader. 📋 Agenda: When Kim Mingyu, the new addition to the Social Media department of Sebong Corp. shows up at your office, requesting you to feature in one of the 'promotional tiktoks' he's been assigned to film, you tell yourself that it'll be your last interaction with the puppy-faced, hyper-energetic intern. A few months, twenty tiktoks, and a diabetes-inducing amount of sugar, you can't quite remember exactly why you had wanted to stay away from him in the first place. 📊 Key Deliverables: comedy, romance, light angst, one-sided enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, pining, a dash of slowburn. 📝 Meeting minutes: sexual content, mingyu being a teensy bit annoying, a lot of obliviousness.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 3: HR Meets Heart 🤝 Booked by @soo0hee, on behalf of HR Manager!Minghao and afab!reader. 📋 Agenda: When you didn't get the promotion you were licking your fingers for, you weren't at all amused. When it was the one person you were sure was out for your every last nerve to get said promotion, you were even less amused. Now stuck with a new boss you loathed you were sure you'd go insane — but what if it's in a different way then you thought.... 📊 Key Deliverables: fluff, enemies to lovers. 📝 Meeting minutes: suggestive, language, alcohol.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 4: Mr. Boo: Coffee, Campaigns, and Confessions 🤝 Booked by @smiley-pansy, on behalf of Marketing Manager!Seungkwan and Brand & Promotions Coordinator!Reader. 📋 Agenda: You and Seungkwan work behind the scenes at Sebong Corporation, a bustling movie production company. When you're assigned to co-lead the marketing campaign for Eclipse Rising—the studio’s most high-profile release yet—your already-close working relationship takes center stage. Through morning coffee runs, chaotic brainstorming sessions, late-night strategy meetings, and a surprisingly sweet team-building retreat, your friendship deepens into something more. 📊 Key Deliverables: fluff, slight crack, coworkers-to-lovers, (attempt at) comedy. 📝 Meeting minutes: light swearing, adorable idiots in love.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 5: damage control 🤝 Booked by @vampsol, on behalf of and actor!vernon and reader. 📋 Agenda: Hansol Vernon Chwe is one of the most frustrating clients to have on the payroll yet one of the biggest and brightest stars on cable television. He's reckless, carefree, and always dancing to the beat of his own drum. And it is up to you, his new assistant, to hold onto the reigns in time for the press run and upcoming premiere of his hit show's second season. No matter what it takes, or how hard you fall for him in the process. 📊 Key Deliverables: TBA. 📝 Meeting minutes: TBA.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 6: homemade dynamite 🤝 Booked by @miniseokminnies, on behalf of actor!vernon and fem!director!reader. 📋 Agenda: Vernon Chwe is a serious actor. That’s how his company, Sebong Corporation, markets him at least. He couldn’t be less interested in that strategy, he’d much rather focus on projects that inspire him. When an email from you, an indie film director that’s been on his radar, comes through his inbox he practically jumps at the opportunity. Trust him on this, okay? It’ll turn out amazing, he’ll make sure of it. 📊 Key Deliverables: fluff, smut, strangers to co workers to lovers. 📝 Meeting minutes: Vernon causing problems for his boss, deeply inappropriate use of a lake, semi public sex, angst if you squint, feelings of being lost.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 8: Entertaining Pleasures 🤝 Booked by @bitchlessdino, on behalf of Entertainment CEO!Chan and afab!TV Producer!Reader. 📋 Agenda: Chan didn't think he had what it takes and motivation to be a CEO when he rather be the one on stage. It wasn't until he met the most obnoxious TV producer he's ever met that he was committed to being the best goddamn Entertainment CEO they and Carat Company has ever seen. 📊 Key Deliverables: fluff, comedy, smut, enemies to fwbs, fwb to ??? 📝 Meeting minutes: cocky!chan, undermining!reader, poor use of filming/modeling sets and their equipment, lowkey exhibitionism.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
🗓️ CONFERENCE ROOM 7: On Your Side 🤝 Booked by @chanranghaeys, on behalf of ceo!lee chan and cfo!fem!reader. 📋 Agenda: Being seatmates with Chan for your senior year back in arts high school changed your life forever. Being estranged and distant friends with Dino, celebrated idol-slash-actor, messed with your head—and your heart. Being the Chief Financial Officer and right hand of Sebong Corporation’s newest CEO, Mr. Lee Chan turned you both into people that barely knew each other. But would you both be willing to stick it through to the end, claiming to be on each other’s side? 📊 Key Deliverables: high school friends to estranged friends to office colleagues to enemies to ??? 📝 Meeting minutes: puppy love and high school crushes, borderline office romance, mutual pining but they’re adamant to antagonize each other.
Read the teaser here. Read the full fic here.
Once again, sign up for the tag list to get tagged for teasers and fic drops. See you in office!
Hi coming in here to say that you're a really good writer and I love you
Oh my aren't you the sweetest?😭 I rarely get feedback, much less asks and sweet one's like this so thank youuu
Love you too💛
Fanfic readers, I have a question for you -
Do you have a preference when it comes to tense?
Yes, I prefer fics written in past tense
Yes, I prefer fics written in present tense
I don’t care which tense is used
Feel free to explain your reasoning in the comments and PLEASE REBLOG! 💕
Splish, Splash Pt. 1/2
Pairing — Lifeguard!Hong Jisoo/Joshua x afab!Lifeguard!Reader
Summary — When you get stuck with the new guy at your shifts, you weren't sure what to make of him. His bright smile and the everlasting sunshine he seemed to carry around, paired with the good natured sass and way to juicy ass left you reeling. Will you be able to survive the summer without losing your mind?
Genre — fluff, angst, Lifeguard!Au, enemies to lovers au
Warnings — suggestive, cursing, alcohol, sexual harrassment, dare i say men(?)
Word Count — 4.0k
Rating — PG-13 — [may change for part 2]
Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!
This work is part of the Carat Bay Collab by @camandemstudios ! Please check them out!
When one was working at a waterpark, they usually expected to get wet or hit by water at certain points of their job. Someone splashing around, a waterball that came rolling or straight up just jumping in to get someone out of it.
And yet, somehow when small drops hit you, you still flinched in surprise at the sudden contact.
It wasn’t on purpose, more like an instinct when the cold of it hit your skin that had you shuddering and flinch away from the offending liquid. Somethibg you should be, in theory, used to after 2 years of working at CaratBay. Or at least one would think so.
But somehow you still reacted the exact same way then when you had first started.
You still remembered your first day and how hard your new coworker and future best friend had laughed when he saw the mortification on your face , drops of water sliding down and dripping from your chin after having been drenched unexpectedly by a kid jumping in close by.
What you would give to have him laugh at you again if that meant to have him back as your shift partner instead of the new guy you had been presented with by the higher ups just 3 weeks ago.
Wooyoung, even if the biggest menace you had ever gotten to meet in your entire life, was who had gotten you out of your personal bubbleand build up the confidence you needed not to let guests talk over you and stand up for yourself and the decicisons that needed to be made to keep them and yourself safe.
And now he was gone. Not gone gone but moved far enough away to have him search for a job that wasn’t on the other side of seoul.
You wanted him back and the new guy gone. Hong Jisoo or Joshua as he introduced himself to you.
He seemed nice enough at first glance. His friendly smile and the way the rest of the staff kind of flogged to him instantly. And you had to admit he did look good.
Joshua was a good guy, that much you could tell but somehow you didn’t find yourself inclined to make an effort and get to know him on a personal level.
He was a coworker and that was it. No friendship – no getting close. A coworker.
It was easy to stick to that principle at first. Only talking to each other when it was about guests or the Bay in total, not giving to many details about your privat life instead keeping a polite distance that left you room to breath and that was it. Joshua accepted it.
Until he didn’t.
You had the feeling that it wasn’t because he didn’t accept the boundary you put in place but more because he genuinely tried to be on good terms with you. Simple things really like sitting at the same table at the parks restaurant during break time while you ate your fries, bringing you some water when he got himself one to stay hydrated or when offered to take your pool bar shift in the evening because he noticed you being uncomfortable when some idiots got a bit to tipsy and started flirting outrageously cause he was just sweet like that. And so you couldn’t be mad even if you wanted to be.
Snacking on your food you quietly watched Yuna, one of the other Lifeguards console a crying girl after she had fallen while running after an older boy. It was rare that you actually worked together with her as she was assigned a different are of the park, but every now and then there moments when you saw each other in passing. Like now where she took over while you were on break.
Joshua sat opposite you, scrolling on his phone while neither disturbed the hanging silence between you both. Not uncomfortable but definitely noticeable.
Mindlessly you reached for the next fry.
“Soo‐” your eyes flickered to the man as he suddenly spoke up, leaned back and gaze fixed on you while you pushed the fry into your mouth only to promptly—
“-why don’t you like me?”
— choke on it.
Coughing you stared at him in surprise before taking the offered water to flush down the part of the fry that left you gasping.
“I mean… I never said I didn’t like you…” you choked out and cleared your throat to get your voice back to normal.
“You also never acted like you don’t. Don’t get me wrong, you’re never rude just– distant?” not once did his friendly smile drop from his face. He seemed almost curious.
“Distant?” you asked.
“Distant.” He answered. “In 3 weeks, this is our first conversation that’s not about the park. At least not directly. So yeah, distant.”
Now that he said it, distant wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not- I mean I wasn’t—”
“But you are. And it’s okay, I don’t judge. You don’t know me and from what I gathered from the others, you were pretty close with the lifeguard before me.”
A little disarmed by his friendliness you needed a moment to gather yourself. You leaned forward to catch his eyes and gave him a much to sweet looking smile.
“You’re right, I don’t know you.”
“But you also don’t want to know me.” A statement more then it was a question the man accepted your answer with a nod.
“I don’t know you.” You repeated yourself.
“We’ve established that.” With one last look on his phone he put it back into the pocket of his shorts and got up. “But if you want to, you know where to find me”
Gone before you could answer you leaned back, baffled and nut hungry anymore you huffed.
The rest of the shift had been no different then before you went on break, the only difference being that Joshua was a lot more smiley then before.
You ignored it for the time being and when you fell in bed that night his words came to catch up, never leaving your mind and not letting you rest before you admitted to yourself that you had been a bit of an asshole to the man. You had told yourself that it wasn’t that you disliked him and that you had only been distant, yet somehow you found yourself not even willing to give him a chance.
“You also don’t want to know me.”
Joshua was right. So far you hadn’t even entertained the idea of it and that had been an A class asshole move.
The blanket shifted beside you, the added weight and the almost inaudible purring announcing the arrival of one of your kittens.
Nelli the blue ragdoll baby you had adopted from a shelter after your friend had take you to join her to walk a 2 of the dogs she regularly went out with was the by far cuddlier one of the two while, Sua, a white British shorthair, would rather liked to stay close but never wanted any pats unless she asked for them first.
The little kitten nudged your face with her nose and curled together next to your head, sounding like an engine running without it’s energy draining and soothing you to sleep.
--------
The coffee cup on Joshua’s locker in the changing room the next morning was a surprising but not unwelcome development the man certainly didn’t reject. He hadn’t slept a lot, not yet used to the silence his new apartment brought and how lonely he would be after moving halfway across the country.
Honestly it should have been something to expect after knowing only few people. The guys working at Carat Bay were amazing, taking to him like he had been with them for years and inviting him wherever they could. However the silence once the apartment door fell shut behind him was deafening.
So yes, the coffee was like a godsend gift this morning. The note attached to it however had him not just reeling but send his mind down an actual rollercoaster of emotions.
*Noticed you didn’t catch much sleep*
Simple and without a name he read the note obviously meant to stay anonymous.
And if he wasn’t able to recognize the handwriting, unique with its own little quirks, it might have even worked.
The t’s looking a little like d’s made it more then obvious who the author if it had been.
For a moment Joshua thought he’d gone entirely crazy from lack of sleep.
And then he found the this time slightly bigger portion of fries you ate in your break pushed slightly more to the middle of the table, a second plastic fork placed right next to it.
He tried catching your eyes to confirm that he wasn’t overstepping in anyway but you just stared at the giant palm tree behind him, seemingly lost in thought. Or simply avoiding his eyes like you usually did. He wasn’t sure which was the case.
Only for a small moment did Joshua think he had seen your eye twitch before it was gone again, yet you stayed silent and kept munching.
Well okay then, he thought and took a second fry to dip it into the ketchup.
A bit later after he had pulled a struggling and quite out of breath 7 year old out of the water who was trying to prove that he indeed was able to keep up with his older brother and his friend, the male was almost hit in the face with one of the waterparks provided towels meant for its staff and again a bit after that he thought he saw the beginning of a hesitant smile thrown in his direction.
He was ashamed to admit that his very first instinct had been to turn around and check if there was someone standing behind him only to promptly want to smack his head against the pool tiles when realizing that you had actually meant to look at him.
Thinking that day would be a one time occurrence had apparently also been a mistake as the days to come were much the same. Small moments in which it seemed like you were actively trying to bridge the gap between them without being to obvious in your attempts.
Joshua couldn’t help but think it was adorable how you worked yourself up to walk over to him and do the simplest of things like he was going to eat you if you so much as looked at him now. He knew you would do that with him should he ever dare voice those thoughts out loud.
“I’m getting a new crate pineapple juice.” He muttered in passing just as you handed a young woman her Piña Colada and scanned her wrist banned to add the drink to her tab.
“Can you bring a cherry one too? I’m almost out.”
The question was simple in itself and with everyone else he wouldn’t have thought twice about it.
With a wink and teasing, “You got it!” he disappeared behind a palm tree, leaving you to tend the pool bar alone for the time being.
It was a week day, so things were slow as most people were either working or at school at this time. Most were couples or small groups of friends seeking to get away from the daily stress of life.
The group of boys splashing each other not to far from where you were serving and had up until now annoyed more then half of the visitors you had currently spending their time in your area was laughing loudly while flicking water at eachother.
You rounded the bar walked to the edge of the pool, sharply blowing the whistle hanging from around your neck. The noise echoed from the walls and had multiple people look at you as you crouched down fixing them with a look that meant business.
“Keep it down, you’re not the only ones here and others would appreciate it if they got the same chance to unwind here like you do.”
One of the 3 mock saluted and dove right under water. His friend following right behind while the third ran his hand through his wet hair; eyes never leaving you even when you got up and checked with a quick look if the bar needed attention again. The look he had sent chills down your back even in the tropical heat inside the dome in which the regular pool was placed.
“Come one baby, we were just having fun! No need to be a buzzkill.”
His tone was obviously meant to be flirty but the way he said it gave you the heebie jibbies.
“Doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t alone in this pool. Please keep it down.”
You stepped back and left him with one last look.
Joshua came back carrying the crates and went back behind the bar. Having already seen that you were busy at the pool he didn’t worry that you weren’t where he had left you and when you joined him again he simply asked if everything was okay.
“Just some rowdy boys who can’t keep it down.”
“So nothing new?”
“No not really.” You chuckled and opened the industrial dishwasher below the counter. Steam surrounded you , causing you to wave your hands through the warm cloud to make it go away.
He looked past you to eye them like you had done before leaving your post earlier.
“Think they’re gonna cause trouble?”
“Not sure. Maybe just a bit excited but I didn’t get the vibe that they’d actually out for it.”
You grabbed the warm plastic cups and dried them over before stacking them back up. Joshua pushed the cherry and pineapple juice crates into their stack system.
Nodding you looked at the couple swimming up to you.
“What can I get for you?”
“Just a Fanta and some beer, please.”
You got the order started, scanning the chip the man held out to you and handed them over.
“Here you go.” You said with your customer service smile.
The two sat down at the build into the water seats to enjoy their drinks.
Not long after you recognized the 3 boys from before approach the bar. They had actually kept it down a bit much to the other visitors delight but somehow you felt the air shift.
“What can I get for you 3?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral with Joshua watching carefully.
“2 beers for these idiots and you for me baby.” His words had you halt, eyebrows jumping almost all the way up into your hair line.
The line was uncalled for and you’d rather he’d swim away again but went over to the cooler for said beers. Joshua having heard what had been said too, kept quiet and caught your eyes, waiting for you to signal to have him take over. You shook your head, telling him you were good.
“Here, your chips please?”
“Or instead I could have your number instead of a tab?”
You stared unimpressed with the scanner in your hand.
“Just the chips are fine.”
The two beside him let out a dramatic “Ohhhhhhh!” and “Damn girl, why so mean!” and you really had to hold yourself together to not roll your eyes right into your skull at their behavior.
“Pay your drinks or we’ll have to ask you to leave the premises.” Joshua called over, hovering behind you and waiting for them to react.
The held their hands up in surrender and gave you the chip. Quickly you scanned it down and watched them leave. The displeased frown on mr-number-instead did not go unnoticed.
And that was it.
The vanished a bit later, plastic cups carelessly left behind and not a trace of them in sight. You were glad, guessing that the 3 must have gone to a different part of the park just as Yuna came to take over.
"You good?" you heard Joshua ask as you made your way around the pool.
"Sure. Just an idiot thinking he's god's gift to mankind. Nothing new and nothing that hasn't happened before at some point. Youngie hated when I told him off for taking over without me asking for help, so thank you for letting me handle it. A least somewhat."
Joshua nodded. He understood why this Youngie wanted to help, the disgust he felt for the guy was still causing his stomach to churn when he thought back.
"It's all good. He was out of line and he should have backed off when you told him to."
Time went by without a hitch. Nothing happened beside the normal occurrences. A scraped knee from falling on the wet tiles and a busted lip and bleeding nose after collision underwater by 2 girls and the clock already struck 7pm. A loud gong went of telling everyone that it was time to make their way home soon.
The regular pool was one of the last parts of Carat Bay to close. The kids area and Waterslide already closed along with the Merchstand and Restaurants so it was only a matter of time until people were showered and on the way to the parking lot.
You stretched your arms and back and suppressed a yawn, feeling tired and more then ready to go home soon.
“Where is Joshua?”
Seungkwan, usually stationed at the Flow Rider stood by the swing door separating the main area and the visitor changing rooms, waiting for Vernon who came from the wave pool and looked up from his phone.
“Shua-hyung? Wanted to check the pool one last time before changing. Isn’t he back yet?”
You shock your head.
“Well he’s probably done soon. Anyways I’m heading out now. You coming?” the last part directed at Vernon he saluted quickly and was gone. The slightly younger right behind him.
You tried to oversee the pool, hoping to see your coworker coming back already but with a defeated sigh you gave up. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Joshua to do his job, you knew he was more then capable to do so, but it didn’t stop you from checking again yourself.
You found him further in the back behind a shut of waterfall and you froze.
Oh boy.
Joshua stood shoulder deep in the water, hair wet, water running down his face and falling into the pool. His black shirt clinging tightly onto his way to defined chest and arms, mocking in a way.
Of course you knew that he was attractive. You had tried to avoid him but you weren’t blind. You had seen that he hid well defined muscles underneath the fabric of his shirt but right now, it wasn’t just obvious. It was like a punch to the face, begging to be stared at.
What was even worse was that in the clear water you could see very well the shorts of his showcasing his thighs even if it was a little shaky.
“Uhmm…” you said a little dumb sounding even to your own ears. Joshua having noticed you standing at the edge lit up further then he should have in your opinion and triumphantly held up a pair of pink glasses.
“Found it!”
“F-found what?”
He held the glasses up higher.
“These! A woman called a said that their daughter probably left their glasses at the island, so I went and checked and voila! I got em.”
“I can see that.” Among other things. ”That doesn’t explain why you are in the water?”
With raised eyebrows and a picked up jaw you clearly didn’t care to hide the amusement you felt as you stared him down with crossed arms. Eyes quickly flicking up from his broad shoulders to his face.
Joshua looked like you had grown a second head. “To get the glasses? Didn’t you hear me?”
You nodded slowly.
“Yeah, no I got that part. What I don’t get is why you didn’t use the bridge to get there…”
It was almost comical how his face changed from Duh! to Huh? to Ohhh. As he looked back at the island and saw the bridge leading over to the little island where he came from.
Snorting you tried to hide your laugh and failed epically.
The man in the pool splashed you with water in retaliation.
“Don’t laugh, woman!” he fake whined, pout clearly there on hips.
Staggering back a bit to avoid the water you laughed again and Joshua couldn’t help but relish in the sound.
“I’m sorry!”
“No you aren’t.”
“No I’m not.”
“At least help me out of here!”
You sat down, smile not even attempted to be hidden from him as you stared at his hand reaching out for you to take.
“Just take the stairs over there.” You hummed.
“Y/nn!”
“Okay, jesus fine you big baby!”
The playful banter did not get lost on either of you and you hated to admit that you enjoyed the moment a lot more then you thought. It felt as easy as breathing.
Maybe you should have been a bit more hesitant and maybe you should have seen it coming when you took his hand ready to pull him out but instead of him actually coming up and out of the water, you suddenly found yourself in it with him.
“HONG JOSHUA?!” You shrieked loudly as soon as you came back up for air, blindly splashing water into the direction you heard him cackle loudly before rubbing the water out of your eyes.
You had still been wearing your red bathing suit and the standard black shorts so at least you didn’t get drenched in your normal clothes but you hadn’t expected to have to dry yourself completely before going home either.
Again you splashed him when he could stop laughing at your predicament, now purposefully going after him. Joshua immediately reacted, the glasses he had saved quickly placed on the edge to not damage them before retaliating with just as much enthusiasm and coming closer.
You felt his arms suddenly wrapping around your midsection, barely having time to hold your breath as you suddenly found yourself dunked under. Your fingers held tightly onto him, hoping to avoid your impending doom.
“No, please! I’m sorry I shouldn’t have laughed!” you spluttered quickly.
“But are you really?”
You froze.
His voice was suddenly much closer then you had anticipated and when you looked up you found yourself almost nose to nose with his own. The tone he had used indicating something much darker hidden behind all those soft eyes that seemed to hold something wild and ready to attack given the chance.
“Well, are you…” he hummed into to space between you, making your ears ring as you fidgeted nervously. You could feel the heat of his skin in contrast to the cool of the water. It left you feeling breathless in a way you hadn’t been since your last boyfriend had first asked you out.
You choked out something that sounded a lot like “I– , you—”
when suddenly…
“What the fuck are you two doing?”
Seungkwan.
Attention PLS!
Pairing — Yoon Jeonghan x Reader
Summary — Yes Jeonghan had something else in mind when he came over but now he was stuck without what he really wanted... your attention
Genre — fluff, established relationship, idol!au
Warnings — none
Word Count — 0.6k
Rating — sfw
Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!
„Jagiyaaa, just put that book down already…“ Jeonghan whined loudly from where he was drapped over your couch. To say he was bored while you were busy with the textbook you needed for your next lecture was an understatement.
He’d like to think he was a fairly patient man, however when he had come over, he definitly has had other plans then watch you worry over a text you by now knew without reading the words written down on the pages.
Yes, he was bored. Yes, he wanted attention and yes, he would burn that stupid textbook if he didn’t get it soon.
“Just 20 minutes and I’ll be done.” You argued without looking up.
Jeonghan groaned and let his head tip back in frustration.
Seriously how hard could it be to have his darling to himself for a bit? Between promotions and exams there wasn’t much time you and him actually could spend together and for once he had been able to make enough room to stay over without having to leave at an ungodly hour in the morning. All that was between him and actually having you in his arms instead of sitting on a bar stool the kitchen was that damn book!
“I’ll start a timer.” He huffed.
“Sure Hannie.”
He huffed again and actually started the timer. You just wait.
Never in his life had he thought that 20 minutes could feel this long. Was this how carats felt while waiting for their shows to start? If so, he really felt for them. It was a nightmare.
Quickly he shot a message to Seungcheol to keep his mind busy.
I hate books. Send 8:23 pm
???? Received 8:24 pm
Y/n has to study. Send 8:26 pm
😂 Received 8:26 pm
“Jagiii pleaseee!!”
“17 minutes left.”
Dear god!
Could this get any worse for him?
The rumbling of his stomach answered that question for him; calling out to the take out he had brought and was still sitting on the counter. Probably cold by now.
Neglected, hungry and bored. Someone really seemed to hate him today.
Heaving his tired bones of the couch and into the open kitchen Jeonghan grabbed two bowls from the cupboard, the wine bottle he had gotten along some snacks also waiting on the counter for later and 2 glasses. At least he could make sure you were fed when you were done studying.
The food turned in the microwave; the beep when it was done causing you to scrunch up your face as it broke your concentration before he took it out and put it in the bowls.
A glance to timer displayed on his phone beside him showed the 8 turning into a 7 as it counted down the seconds.
You were very aware that your boyfriend was standing on the other side of the bar in front of you while staring you down as if it would make time fly by faster.
It was as endearing as it was making you nervous to feel his big brown eyes tracking every move you made as you highlighted passages of your text you found important.
And when the timer was finally down to zero, you didn’t even have enough time to close the book before you felt Jeonghans pointer finger on your chin, thumb caressing over your lips and his unfairly beautiful face only inches away from your own.
“Attention. Now.”
wkorea
S.COUPS | MET GALA 2025
as a masochist, i see this as a win-win :)
np tags: @ghstzzn @heesmiles @b1mbodoll @kireilien @bussolares @bambiihee @faeyun + anyone who wants to join <3
ykw… fuck yeah!
do it… or don’t… even if u aren’t tagged: @heechwe @tinycatharsis @everyonewooeverywhere
HAHAHAHAH that’s valid (thank you for the tag @ghstzzn 🩷)
tagging @xomakara @lovetaroandtaemin @kwanisms @babeyun @faeyun @prkhaven and anyone else who wants to do this!
Wasn't tagged but I wanted to do it 👀
I'm not surprised 🧍♀️
Tagging: @gyubakeries @chugging-antiseptic-dye @soo0hee @brownsugarbaybee @ourdawnishotterthanourday @nothoughtsjustfic @tomodachiii
Thanks for the tag wifey
Yeah, that tracks lmao
No pressure tags: @imtoanonymousforyou @thesafecafe @brownsugarbaybee
a merman sighting
hello~~~
Oh darling, you came with a kitty!!!
You will never, NEVER, see me decline one Jung Wooyoung! That is one fine man and the HAIR?? Bro was like "lets deny kat her right to see thos lucious locks!" AND FUCKING CUT IT OFF
I was in mourning - still am.
