it was bright outside, the afternoon light was doing that thing where it made everything look soft like a haze. you were lying across the couch with gunwook and you were comfortable. your back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped around your waist. one of his hands was playing with your fingers while the other rested on your hip with his thumb drawing these lazy figure 8s against your shirt.
you noticed that he’d been quieter than usual today, it wasn’t in a bad way though. more like he was lost in his own little world. you could feel it in the way he kept nuzzling into your neck and then pulling back slightly like he was trying to work something out in his head.
“wookiee, you’re being weird,” you said finally as you turned your head to try and catch a glimpse of his handsome face.
“no i’m not.” he said but his voice had that tone. yk the one he got when he was definitely thinking about something and trying to figure out how to say it.
“you’ve been extra close cuddly for like an hour not that i mind. it’s just way more than usual.” you squeezed his hand and he responded by tightening his arms around you. “what’s going on in that head, hm?”
he was quiet for another second as his breath warm laid against your neck. “gyuvin sent a video to the group chat earlier.”
“okay…?”
“so, the was this little girl,” he started, his voice went gentle in a way that made your chest feel weird. “she was maybe three or four and was tiny. she was trying to sing one of our songs but she kept messing up the words. she was so confident about it though. like she was performing at tokyo dome or something. and she had all her stuffed animals lined up as her audience. then at the end she did this really deep bow and said thank you for coming.”
you smiled because you could already picture it. “yea that does sound adorable.”
“i watched it so many times.” he smiled at the thought of the video, his hand stopping its movements on you. just resting there now with his palm warm through your shirt. “i couldn’t stop thinking about it, y’know. what it would be like to have a daughter like that.”
your heart did multiple somersault inside your body, it began to race at where he was going to say next. butterflies blooming inside your stomach. “gunwook…”
“i just kept imagining it all day.” he said, the words came out quieter now. “during practice and in the car on the way here. where there would be this little girl who’d be ours. and we could teach her random stuff like how to kick a soccer ball or letting her stand on my feet while we dance silly around the living room.” his arms tightened around you and you could feel his heartbeat against your back. it was way faster than normal like he was anticipating something, like he was nervous.
“…then i kept thinking about coming home to both of you.” his voice cracked slightly on the words. “her running to the door yelling appa and just launching herself at me. and you’d be there too and it would just be. i don’t know. cozy and sweet to have something like that.”
your throat felt tight and hoarse at what he said. then you managed to say, “you’ve really been thinking about this a lot.”
“i can’t help it.” he admitted to you, turning his face so his nose brushed against your cheek. “that video just made it all feel so real. like i could actually picture it and see us with this tiny person who’d have the best parts of both of us.”
his hand found yours again as he laced your fingers together and holding on tight. “well i’d say it would be a give then that she’d definitely have you completely wrapped around her finger.” you said softly as your lips let out a smile.
gunwook laughed quietly. “no doubt. i wouldn’t even pretend to put up a fight.” then he went quiet again. you could practically feel him working up to say something. his body tensed slightly behind yours and his breathing changed entirely. “let’s have one.” the words came out so simple like he was suggesting getting takeout or watching a movie.
“what!?” you twisted in his arms to actually look at him. his eyes were bright and earnest behind that soft expression. gosh he was completely serious.
“let’s have a daughter.” he said again with his eyes seemingly sparkling at the words and a smile grew on his face. his hands moving to your waist to keep you facing him. “like now or maybe soon. i know we haven’t really planned anything but i just. i really want this with you.”
you stared at him trying to process the sudden left turn this lazy afternoon had taken. “gunwook you can’t just decide you want a baby because you saw one cute video.”
“it’s not just the video though.” he insisted, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “okay maybe the video was what really made me think about it. but i’ve wanted this for a while. i want that future with you.”
his eyes searched yours and you could see how much he really meant it. his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. “a little girl who we can love and teach things to and watch grow up. i want to be the one who teaches her everything and yeah maybe scares away boys when she’s older.”
“ok you are getting a little bit ahead of yourself.” but you were smiling despite the way your heart was racing. because looking at him now with that hopeful excited expression it was impossible not to get caught up in it at least slightly.
“can you maybe just think about it.” he said pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you again. “that’s all i’m asking. just think about us and about having a tiny human who’s half you and half me.”
you settled back against him. your mind spinning but your chest feeling strangely warm. “you really want a daughter don’t you.”
“yes i do, very badly.” he admitted without hesitation his voice soft against your ear. “i want her to have your eyes. and i want to learn how to braid her hair even though i’d probably be terrible at it.”
his fingers traced patterns on your back now. “we’d have to actually sit down and plan though. like really thoroughly talk about it.”
“i know.” he agreed readily. “we can talk about it as much as you need to. i just needed you to know that i want this with you. for whenever you’re ready.”
you turned your head to look up at him. he was already watching you with those warm brown eyes of his. he looked completely open and vulnerable, he definitely had a bad case of baby fever. “you saw one video of a cute kid and fell apart.”
he grinned unashamedly. “yes. that little girl destroyed me. inside out. she was wearing this tiny dress with flowers on it and her hair was in these little pigtails.” his expression went soft again. “i just kept thinking about our daughter. what she’d look like.”
“wow…you sure do have baby fever. it’s ridiculous.”
“no. i am just ridiculously ready to be a girl dad.” he countered. his arm tightening around you. “come on just imagine it for a second. her room with whatever color she wants. and filled with books, toys and those little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. thenn she’s coming home on hard days and she’d tell me about school. who she played with and what she had for snack.”
his voice had gone dreamy again as he continued. “then we could make cookies together on holidays and letting her decorate them even though she’d use way too much frosting. then for her birthday parties and all her little friends.”
you felt your chest tighten at how clearly he’d imagined all of this. “one daughter.” you said finally. softly. “with your smile and your big heart.”
gunwook’s arms tightened around you. his face pressing into your hair. “she would be the cutest daughter in the entire world. no doubt.” his voice was muffled but you could hear the smile in it. “you thinking about it? for real?”
“hmmm, maybe.” you admitted. “you made it sound pretty nice.”
“pretty nice?” he repeated, mockingly offended. “i just painted the most beautiful picture of our future daughter and you say it’s just pretty nice.”
“okay it was very nice.”
“ok that’s much better.” he settled back down as he pulled you closer. “so that’s a maybe? are we at maybe?”
“we’re at the we’ll talk about it seriously later level.”
“i’ll take it.” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “but just so you know i’m gonna be thinking about this constantly now. i’m gonna start looking at baby names.”
“gunwook.”
“and tiny shoes. have you seen baby shoes? they’re so small.” his voice was full of wonder.
you laughed against his chest. feeling the rumble of his own quiet laughter. “omg, you’re still going?!”
“leave me alone… i’m so ready” he mumbled back ignoring you’re shock at his continuous response with fantasizing about his future daughter. his hand moving to rest on your stomach. it was just resting there warmly. “our daughter will be so loved.”
and wrapped up in his arms with his heartbeat steady beneath your ear you let yourself imagine it too. just for a moment. a little girl with his smile and your determination. tiny hands and bright eyes. “yeah.” you said softly. “she really will be.”
gunwook made a satisfied sound. his body relaxing completely. “can we take a nap now? all this future planning is exhausting.”
“but we didn’t plan anything.”
“it was all the thinking and emotional labor.” he mumbled. already sounding half asleep. “wake me up later so we can look at baby names together.”
“you’re serious about that?”
“i’m completely serious.” his words were getting slower and muc sleepier. “im gonna be the best girl dad ever. just you wait.”
pairing: idol!park gunwook x idol!fem!reader . . . masterlist
genre: fluff, comfort, caring gunwookie, secret relationship
word count: 835
a/n: first fic since june sigh im so inconsistent with this LOWKEY FORGOT HOW TO WRITE ...... BUT ANYWAYS my long break resulted in me falling more deeply in love with zb1 and gunwook actually became my like 2nd ult so expect more of fics of him hehehehe
the lights were blinding. the cameras were everywhere. the makeup on your face felt heavier than ever.
tonight wasn't your debut, but it sure felt like it was. the pressure was back, thick and loud in your chest. it had been a music show taping, your group had just finished performing.
now, you were backstage surrounded by idols you knew, though most you weren't close with, and it felt like everything was closing in.
you could hear your members talking, laughing, being silly. of course you were used to this. it's part of the job.
yet your heart was racing. breath not coming in right. legs about to collapse. you were about to cry, and the panic came without warning.
not here, not now. you tried to talk yourself down. no one can know. and especially not him.
you'd spotted zb1 arrive 10 minutes ago, your eyes found gunwook almost immediately. he always stood out.. tall, smiling, eyes constantly scanning the room like he was looking for someone.
you knew he was looking for you.
but the rules. those damn rules. you two were idols, under strict contracts, strict management. even being seen standing so close would start rumours. and neither of you could afford that.
still, when your hands begun to uncontrollably shake and your ears were ringing, your eyes actively searched for him again.
and there he was. gunwook's eyes met yours from across the room. he froze, just for a second.
then his smile faded. he tilted his head a little which was his subtle way of asking, "are you okay?"
you blinked in response, almost hoping it was enough to answer him. but it wasn't. because in the next moment, gunwook was already quietly moving.
he was smart and subtle, as he greeted someone who passed by and kept his head down when he needed to, and he somehow ended up ducking into the side hallway behind the equipment curtain. almost like he was headed to the bathroom.
there you found him, less than a minute later. you slipped away from your group, the excuse of reapplying your lipgloss. your manager approved of your request.
there gunwook was, leaning casually against the wall in the dim hallway, like he hadn't just bent the rules for you. as soon as he saw you though, his calm demeanour dropped.
"hey," he said softly, stepping forward. "you're okay. you're here with me. tell me how you're feeling."
you shook your head, "i don't know, it's stupid."
"no, it's not."
"i just– everything felt too loud out there. i don't know what's wrong with me lately. i always handle this. i do–"
gunwook didn't let you finish. he reached out his hand then you took it right away, and he gently pulled you into a hug.
"you're okay, you're okay... baby. i'm always gonna be here, don't worry." his soft words only made a tear escape from your eye. he felt you shake against him, and he pulled back to look at you.
"look at me, princess." and you did.
"i didn't want you, or anyone to see me like this." you muttered, your hand lifting to wipe your tears, yet gunwook beat you to it. "i need to look composed in front of the camera, like i belong there."
gunwook's eyes sparkled, and you could see he looked at you with pure love and fondness. "first of all, you do belong there. you're incredible, and you killed your stage. you really looked like a princess, baby. my princess."
"but also," he sucked in a breath. "you don't ever have to hide how you're feeling from me, okay?"
you took in his words that you knew were genuine and could make you feel better no matter what.
he pulled you in for another hug and spoke, "just breathe, baby. you're doing so well. i'm so proud of you."
you stayed like that for a moment. quiet, close, just the two of you.
"i hate that we have to hide," you mumbled.
"i know," he said and pulled away slightly, brushing your hair gently behind your ear. "but it's not forever. and even if no one else sees it... i'm yours. everyday. all the time."
you smiled, just a little.
"even when i cry in a hallway?"
"especially then," he smiled, and pulled something from his pocket.
a piece of paper, with a tiny bear face drawn on it.
you let out a slight laugh, "where did you get this?"
"jiwoong-hyung found a notepad and we kinda scribbled on it. i was gonna keep it for good luck, but... you can have it."
you smiled and took the ripped piece of paper, holding it carefully like it meant something special. because it did.
soon, you'd both have to go back. to the familiar cameras, crowds and smiles.
but for now, gunwook gave you one last warm bear hug and whispered:
"you don't have to be strong all the time. just be you. that's all i need."
Park Gunwook lives for classical music and his violin. When his final exam turns out to be a duet, he grows anxious about how well he's able to perform with a pianist he has never met before. With only one month to practice, will things turn out for the worse or better?
✩ ⋅ pairing. violinist!gunwook x pianist fem!reader
✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, angst, music school/conservatory!au
✩ ⋅ warnings. there's one scene with a jerk/creep
✩ ⋅ wc. 6549
✩ ⋅ with zb1 hanbin & gyuvin, illit minju
✩ ⋅ a/n reader is more reckless, gunwook is more follow-the-rules
“A duet.”
The class falls silent. Park Gunwook looks to his left, his eyes meeting Zhang Hao’s. They’re thinking the exact same thing. We’re screwed.
Park Gunwook knows how to ace exams, he has consistently done so for the past two years. Music is something he considers a solitary activity: practice alone, perform alone, succeed alone.
But, this final exam has changed everything he has once thought about music. A duet, sharing the stage with someone.
“When I call your name please come up.” The teacher continues to speak, ignoring the soft murmurs of the class.
“Park Gunwook and Y/N L/N.”
Gunwook watches as you stand up and make your way towards the teacher. You look exactly like how a pianist looks like according to Gunwook. Someone who is elegant, introspective and knows exactly what they want.
He flashes you a kind smile when the two of you are standing in front of the teacher. He’s nervous, even though you don’t seem to be nervous at all.
The teacher doesn’t say a word as he pushes a piece of paper into his hands. Gunwook looks at it with a puzzled look before realising he has to choose one of these pieces for his final exam.
Beethoven – Violin Sonata No. 5 in F Major, Op. 24 “Spring”
César Franck – Violin Sonata in A Major
Brahms – Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major, Op. 78 “Rain Sonata”
Debussy – Violin Sonata in G Minor
Prokofiev – Violin Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 94a
“I’d like to hear your choice by the end of this week,” is everything the teacher says before motioning for the two of you to sit down. You look over his shoulder to see which pieces are written on the paper.
Gunwook sees how your face lights up, it catches him by surprise. And suddenly, he forgets he’s anxious about the duet. Maybe, things could work out better than he would’ve thought.
You anxiously tap your feet to the sound that’s coming from your phone. You and Gunwook had agreed to meet after school to decide which piece the two of you would be choosing. Minju, who is sitting next to you, glances over.
“Seems like a difficult piece.” She says, shuffling closer to take a look at the Youtube video.
“That’s the problem,” you sigh as you put your phone facing down on the table, “all of them are like this.”
“Well, is this violinist you got paired up with any good?” Minju asks, leaning forward and over the table to slide her cup of iced tea towards her.
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s search him up, if he’s a sophomore he must have his final exam from last year posted on the school’s Youtube account.” She suggests taking her phone out of her pocket before you can answer.
“Tell me his name, I’ll search it up for you.”
“Park Gunwook.”
Minju types quickly, her fingers flying across the screen. “Park… Gunwook,” she repeats under her breath. A second later, the search results load. Only two videos seem to be posted, one being his entrance exam and one being his freshman final exam.
She presses play and Gunwook immediately starts playing. The two of you watch silently how he moves, how his fingers press down on the strings with precision and control.
“He’s … good.” You murmur, as you continue to watch the video, earning a chuckle from Minju.
Minju raises an eyebrow. “Why do you sound so surprised, it’s not like this school lets everyone in.”
“I know, he just doesn’t really look like the type to play like that. I mean, so meticulously.”
“You mean that you thought he was more the freestyle, I-do-what-I-think-is-right, type of guy?” You nod at her answer, but as the video continues to play you can only imagine how nice it would be to work with someone who seems to put a lot of work and effort into perfecting a piece.
“Well,” Minju says, nodding toward the screen, “looks like you got paired with a perfectionist.”
“Before you start complaining,” Hanbin starts as he watches Gunwook’s frowned face, “you might actually like the pianist.”
“In what way.” Gunwook replies dryly as he sets down his lunch. Gyuvin and Zhang Hao snicker at his reply.
Hanbin doesn’t say anything, instead he holds up a video, the title reading:
Y/N L/N | Freshman Final Exam | Prokofiev - Piano Sonata No. 3 in A minor, Op. 28
The fast-paced and almost restless melody plays from Hanbin’s phone. Once again Gyuvin chuckles at how captivated Gunwook is.
“She’s…”
“She’s absolutely batshit crazy.” Gyuvin says, cutting Gunwook off. “She’s all gas, no brakes.”
Gunwook doesn’t respond right away. He’s too focused on the screen, watching how your hands move with such reckless confidence, like you’re daring it to keep up with you.
“She’s not holding back,” Hanbin says quietly, as if reading Gunwook’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” Gunwook mutters, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s not scared of it.”
“So, what do you think?” Zhang Hao asks with an amused smile on his face.
“I have no clue,” he begins, “I’ve never met a pianist who plays like that.”
Hanbin grins. “At least you won’t be bored.”
Gunwook glances back at the phone as the piece races toward its explosive ending. The last few chords hit with full force.
And for the first time since the duet was announced, he feels something he hadn’t expected:
A flicker of excitement.
The music building’s small practice room smells faintly of rosin. You arrive a few minutes early, clutching the sheet with the five sonatas listed.
Park Gunwook is already there, sitting on the edge of a worn wooden chair, violin case resting beside him. He looks up as you enter.
“Hi,” you say, setting your bag down with a soft thud. You take the chair across from him, leaving space between you.
“Hello,” he answers. You glance at the paper between you, the one with the 5 pieces listed on it.
You clear your throat. “So I’ve been listening to all of them on repeat since the class ended.”
Gunwook nods once, folding the paper carefully. “I did the same, managed to take some notes.”
You try to imagine what notes a perfectionist like him would make. Precise fingerings? Comments on phrasing? How dedicated would he need to be to already have notes on pieces that just got announced today?
“Which one caught your attention?” you ask, leaning forward slightly.
He taps a finger against his chin, considering. “Beethoven’s ‘Spring.’ It’s clean, a basic one. It’s hard to mess up.”
You bite your lip. “It does sound cheerful, but don’t you feel like we’re playing it too safe with something like this? The teacher must expect something unexpected if we end up choosing this one.”
He smiles faintly, a hint of agreement. “Yes. It does feel safe.”
“Safe isn’t really my style. I want something that challenges me.”
He raises an eyebrow, amused by the way you think. For someone who looks like a textbook example of a pianist you sure don’t think like one.
You grin. “Let’s do this one.” Gunwook's eyes follow your finger to the title you’re pointing at. Prokofiev – Violin Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 94a
It feels like his heart skips a beat for a moment. Prokofiev, of course you’d pick that one. A fast-paced, relentless piece that Gunwook is certain will sound less like a duet and more like a battle.
Gunwook’s fingers stop tapping. “That piece demands a lot. It’s easy to lose control.”
You shrug. “Exactly, but that’s what makes it exciting.”
He leans back, folding his arms. “You don’t sound like someone who holds back.” He smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Neither do you,” you reply with a grin. It’s evident the two of you studied each other’s performances right before meeting up, but neither of you is trying to hide it.
Gunwook nods slowly. “So…”
You meet his eyes. “Prokofiev?”
Gunwook gulps when he sees the sparkle in your eyes and looks down at the paper again, then back up. “Prokofiev.”
You smile, feeling a flicker of excitement you didn’t expect.
He stands, picking up his violin case. “We should start rehearsing soon.”
You grab your bag. “Can’t wait.”
Both you and Gunwook couldn’t wait to start practicing the next day. Is it because of your desperation to pass the year? Or is it because it is the first time in your life you get to take on such an exciting piece with someone whose skill matches yours?
“Should we listen to it first?” Gunwook suggests as he sets down his violin case on a chair. You nod, and take a seat next to him.
The two of you watch in silence, taking mental notes of the trickier parts. Your eyes flick across the screen, focused, brows drawn together. Every so often, your fingers twitch against your leg, imagining how your fingers will press the keys of the piano.
Gunwook notices and glances down at your hand. He smiles, just barely. Then his eyes return to the video.
It takes a while to get to know the piece, but after 2 hours of practicing the two of you have very slightly gotten the hang of it.
Your fingers feel stiff from playing the same thing for 2 hours. The room is warm, and the piano’s once bright tone has started to blur beneath your tired hands.
Gunwook leans against the edge of the chair, bow resting loosely in his fingers. You shake out your hands and exhale with a soft laugh.
“It’s kind of insane how little progress that looks like for two hours of work.”
“Not really,” he says, heaving a loud exhale. “This piece doesn’t open up easily.”
You nod, stretching your arms above your head. “My brain is fried.”
Gunwook doesn’t reply immediately. He watches you, your hands red from playing, your eyes still scanning the sheet music like there’s something left to wring from it even now.
Most people would’ve called it for the day. Even through the fatigue, your curiosity hasn’t dimmed. Your frustration doesn’t come from impatience, it comes from wanting to be better.
He sits back slowly in his chair, the bow now resting on his lap. He looks up when he hears the sound of the piano. It’s as if you’re unable to stop.
“You really don’t hold back,” he murmurs.
You glance at him. “Isn’t that the point?”
The way you say it is light, almost teasing. It’s like you don’t fully realize how serious he is when he says it.
He looks away with a small breath of a laugh, unsure what to do with the way something like admiration has started to settle in his chest. For the way you throw yourself into the work without hesitation. As if it’s your mission to finish the piece with all you’ve got.
It’s quiet for a few seconds, just the distant hum of other practice rooms beyond the door.
Then you speak again, your voice softer. “Want to run it once more before we call it?”
Gunwook meets your gaze, then gives a short nod. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“You look tired.” You chuckle as you watch Minju slump down in the chair in front of you. Her dance bag falls off her shoulder and lands on the floor with a heavy thud, drawing a few glances from nearby tables. She doesn’t seem to care.
“Don’t even start.” She groans, letting her head fall onto the table with a dramatic sigh. “If you say ‘how was practice’ I swear I will cry.”
You can’t help but laugh as you slide your drink in her direction. “I was going to ask if you survived, actually.”
“Barely,” she mutters, lifting her head just enough to take a sip. Her hair is plastered to the sides of her face, and there’s a faint red flush in her cheeks. “We repeated the routine seven times.”
You wince sympathetically. “That bad?”
“She kept saying we were missing something, and then she made us run the duet again.”
You lean back in your chair, sipping your iced coffee. “I thought this was the piece you said you loved?”
“It was supposed to be fun,” Minju says, propping her chin in one hand. “But now, if I hear that first note one more time, I’m going to break my own legs.”
You laugh again. “Well, you do still look kind of graceful for someone who claims she got tortured in the dance studio.”
Minju narrows her eyes at you. “Flattery won’t make me forget you’re trying to dodge your turn. How’d your practice go?”
You cover your face for a moment, groaning into your palms. “It went fine, but I don’t know.”
She grins. “So? What happened?”
You lower your hands, trying not to smile too much. “The piece is insane, like, technically insane, but we started syncing up by the second hour. Not perfectly, but there were moments where I could feel it.”
Minju wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh? Feeling things?”
“Musically,” you clarify, laughing. “We were both exhausted, but neither of us wanted to stop. I think we played through the second movement at least ten times.”
“Did you catch him watching you while you played?” she adds.
“How’d you know?” you ask, looking up to meet Minju’s eyes.
Minju leans forward again, her face serious now. “Listen. I’ve partnered with a lot of people in dance, but there’s a difference when someone feels what you’re expressing. That’s what makes a duet powerful. It’s not just playing what’s written on the paper, or dancing how you’ve been told.”
You’re quiet for a moment, letting her words settle, because you did feel something click.
Minju watches you carefully, then says with a teasing glint in her eyes, “So? When’s the next practice?”
You smile, unable to stop it. “Tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait for the updates.”
A week later, the room feels different.
The small practice space, once filled with the excitement of discovery, now seems suffocating. A metronome ticks faintly in the background and sheet music lies messily across the room, pencil markings growing more frantic with each rehearsal.
The two of you have been frustrated, though unable to express the frustration to one another.
You stand by the bench, arms crossed, your jaw tight. Gunwook is near the window, back to you, adjusting his fine tuners again even though he did the same thing ten minutes ago.
“You’re rushing the tempo again,” he says finally, without looking at you.
A sharp breath escapes before you can stop it. “I’m not rushing. You’re dragging.”
That gets his attention. He turns to face you, eyes narrowed just slightly. Your throat tightens, you didn’t mean to snap at him.
“It’s in the score,” he says coldly.
You jab a finger at the marked section on the page. “You stretch it so far it loses momentum.”
He lets out a humorless chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re thinking emotionally, not structurally.”
That stings more than you expect it to. You’ve been told the same thing countless times by your first ever piano teacher, and now that these words have come back to you it’s like a slap in the face.
Gunwook notices how your face falls, and suddenly he feels guilty. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it out of frustration.
“And you’re thinking like this is a math equation,” you shoot back after a beat of silence. “It’s music, not physics. You can’t follow the rules and expect to end up with the correct answer.”
Gunwook’s hands tighten around the neck of his violin. His voice is stable, but it’s taking him a lot more effort to maintain the stability. “Is this how you treat everyone you work with? Like they’re just background noise?”
You stare at him. Your chest feels hot, and you’re suddenly too aware of how close you are to the edge of your patience.
There’s a long, tense pause. The ticking of the metronome feels louder now, echoing between you like a countdown.
When Gunwook speaks again, his voice is lower and strained.
“I’m trying to hold it together, but if we aren’t able to perform this piece in 3 weeks we won’t pass the year. I’m telling you we need to play it like it says on the paper.”
You look over your shoulder, frowning. “You care more about being in control than making music with me.”
The words hang in the air. You stare at him, waiting for him to say anything to you. Waiting for him to tell you that you’re wrong, that he cares about the duet and not only because he desperately wants to pass the exam.
But he doesn’t. He turns away, still holding tightly onto his violin.
Your throat tightens. “You know what? I thought this was supposed to be a duet,” you say, your voice low and trembling. “But it’s just you, trying to make everything sound the way you want it. I tried to share some ideas of mine but you won’t even acknowledge or at least listen to how it sounds. I’m not your fucking accompanist, Gunwook.”
He still doesn’t look at you. That silence is the final push. You grab your bag, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as you stand.
“Figure it out on your own.”
Then you’re out the door, the sound of it closing behind you loud.
The hallway outside the practice room feels colder as you lean against the rough brick wall, heart pounding, breath uneven. You bring the water bottle to your lips, trying to swallow down the argument.
Your eyes flick to the end of the hall where footsteps approach. You recognise the figure as someone you’ve had a class with in your first year.
“Hey,” he says, “You okay? You looked pretty upset back there.”
You stiffen, gripping your bag tighter. Your voice comes out sharper than you want. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t step back. Instead, he leans just a little closer. “Nah, you’re not. What happened?”
Your heart thuds louder, panic rising. “I just want to be alone,” you say, trying to sound firm, but the words feel small.
His smirk deepens, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Talking helps, don’t you think?”
You swallow hard, heat rising in your cheeks. You take a cautious step back, away from him. Your entire body screams to run, but you don’t want to cause a scene.
Then the door at the far end of the hall swings open. The door you rushed out of just a few minutes ago.
Gunwook steps out, violin case slung over his shoulder. The moment his eyes land on the scene, his posture shifts. He knows he shouldn’t be protective over you, he has no reason to be. But still, looking at how uncomfortable you look in front of that jerk makes his heart beat faster.
The stranger turns toward Gunwook with a sly grin. “Is this your partner?” he chuckles, voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like she’s struggling to keep up,” he says with a smirk.
Gunwook’s jaw tightens slightly. You want to turn away, to leave the hall, to escape, but your legs feel heavy, reluctant to move.
He steps towards the two of you to close the space between you and the creep. His grip tightens on the strap of his violin case, knuckles whitening.
“Why don’t you back off?” Gunwook says, voice low but firm.
The stranger chuckles, trying to mask the sudden shift in mood. “Relax, I’m just joking around.”
You want to believe him, want to laugh it off like it’s nothing, but your heart pounds too loud in your chest, and your hands tremble slightly as you clutch your bag tighter.
Gunwook’s gaze flicks to you, scanning your face. Without a word, he subtly moves closer, positioning himself so that the stranger can’t get past him without stepping over you.
“Are you okay?” the stranger asks, leaning to his right to get a better view of you.
You don’t answer. You don’t want to speak. You only want to disappear, to melt into the walls of the hallway. The stranger leans forward again, smirking, and you stiffen.
Gunwook’s arm moves like a reflex, shielding you behind his arm.
The stranger’s smirk fades. “Alright, alright,” he mutters, backing off. “No need to get all serious.”
Gunwook doesn’t relax. His eyes remain locked on the stranger until he finally turns and walks away down the corridor, the sound of his footsteps fading.
Only then does Gunwook turn toward you fully. His expression softens just a fraction, but he doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He doesn’t say a word.
“I gotta go.” You quickly whisper as you break eye contact, and without saying goodbye you rush out of the door, out of the building.
Gunwook watches your figure, exhaling loudly. His heart is still beating loudly in his chest, but is it because of adrenaline or because of something else?
Gunwook slumps back against the hallway bench. Zhang Hao leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.
“There is no way you’re giving up right now,” Zhang Hao says, nudging Gunwook’s leg with the toe of his shoe. “You two had one disagreement and now you’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”
Gunwook doesn’t look up. “It wasn’t just a disagreement,” he mutters.
“Oh right, because no one’s ever stormed out of a rehearsal before,” Zhang Hao deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Come on, man. You’ve dealt with worse partners.”
“This is different.”
Zhang Hao raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Right. Because this time, you actually care.”
Gunwook groans and tips his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes. “It’s not that. I can’t think properly when I’m with her. Whenever she looks at me and makes some absolutely crazy suggestion, I can’t help but feel like I want to comply.”
Zhang Hao straightens, intrigued. “So why don’t you comply with her crazy suggestion?”
Gunwook’s brow furrows. “Because crazy suggestions are crazy suggestions. I would never play the piece like that. It just doesn’t make sense. It goes against everything I’ve learned.”
“And yet you still want to say yes to her.”
Gunwook doesn’t answer, but his silence is enough. Zhang Hao lets out a slow whistle.
“You’re screwed.”
Gunwook finally opens his eyes and looks over. “Thanks.”
“No, I mean it,” Zhang Hao says, this time with more seriousness. “This isn’t just about the music anymore. You’re not used to someone pushing you out of your structure and you hate that you kind of like it.”
Gunwook’s jaw tightens.
“She challenges everything about the way you work, and you’d rather walk away than admit she might be right sometimes.”
Gunwook says nothing. His eyes drift to the far end of the corridor, to the door you had disappeared through yesterday.
He remembers how you looked, furious and tired, but also electric, as if even your anger was laced with passion for the music. He remembers the sting of your words: “I’m not your fucking accompanist.”
After a long pause, he says quietly, “She’s not going to want to see me.”
“Then show up anyway,” Zhang Hao replies. “You already missed your chance to stop her from walking away once.”
Minju shifts on the bed, propping her head up with one hand as she watches you pace across the room.
You stop in front of her desk, pressing your palms into its surface. “Minju, I can’t work like this. He acts like I’m an unpredictable storm he’s forced to survive.”
She smiles, unfazed. “Well, to be fair, you kind of are.”
You groan and fall onto the chair beside her bed, burying your face in your hands. “He doesn’t even try to meet me halfway. I suggest something new, just one change and he shuts it down. It’s like he’s terrified of playing it any other way than the way it’s written.”
You peek through your fingers, voice muffled. “He’s also smart, talented, and driven, and I hate that I respect him even when I’m mad.”
She chews thoughtfully on a chip, then asks, “How far are you guys with the piece?”
“Well, I’m done,” you say, sitting up straighter. “I wrote down all my ideas. I practiced every single section. I know how I want it to sound. Honestly, I hear it in my head all the time now, like a curse.”
Minju raises a brow. “Sounds like you’re married to it.”
You toss a chip at her, and she dodges, laughing. “We’re nowhere near performing together, though. Every time we play, it’s like we’re forcing our instruments to speak different languages.”
“So the only problem is your personalities,” she concludes.
“I guess.” You pause. “The weirdest thing happened yesterday, though.”
Minju perks up. “Weird how?”
You pull your legs onto the chair and wrap your arms around them, hugging your knees. “After the fight I stormed out. And I was just sitting outside, trying not to cry in public, and this guy from freshman year came up to me. I didn’t even know his name, but he gave me this weird vibe.”
Minju frowns. “And?”
“Gunwook came out of the room. And the moment he saw what was happening, he stepped in. He didn’t even ask what was going on. Just stood between us and made it clear the guy should leave.”
Minju sits up straighter now. “Wait, after the fight?”
You nod, eyes fixed on the carpet. “Yeah, like five minutes after I told him to figure it out on his own. He still came out and helped me.”
Minju’s voice is soft. “That doesn’t sound weird to me.”
You look over at her, confused. “Really?”
She smiles. “He clearly still respects you. Maybe even admires you a little more than he lets on.”
You stay quiet for a moment. “Do you think I was too harsh?” you finally ask.
Minju shrugs. “Maybe. But you’re not wrong. This isn’t about winning an argument. It’s about learning how to make music together, not just at the same time.”
You groan, flopping back onto the bed. “Why does music have to be so dramatic?”
Minju laughs. “Because musicians are dramatic, and apparently, very bad at feelings.”
The hallway outside the classroom buzzes with noise. Chairs scraping against the floor, students calling out to one another, the sound of someone’s ringtone. You keep your eyes down, weaving between people to quickly make it out of the room.
The argument still plays on loop in your mind. You haven’t gone back to the practice rooms since. You don’t notice the figure rounding the corner until it’s too late.
A sudden impact sends a jolt through your shoulder as you collide into someone.
“Oh my god, I—” You take a step back. Your heart stops when you realize who it is.
Gunwook.
He’s standing in front of you, holding a folder to his chest, brows slightly raised in surprise.
You freeze.
He blinks. “Hey.”
Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Finally, you manage a quiet, “Hi.”
You both glance at the mess of papers scattered across the hallway floor. Students step over them carelessly, too busy in their own conversations to notice. For a moment, neither of you moves.
Then, almost in sync, you both kneel.
Your hands meet on the same sheet. The tips of his fingers brush lightly against yours before you both pull back, too quickly, like you’ve been shocked. You focus on collecting the pages, fingers moving just a little faster than necessary.
He clears his throat. “I should really stop walking while holding loose papers.”
You pass him a stack. A faint smile ghosts on his lips. When he stands up, you do too, brushing dust off your clothes.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, eyes scanning your face.
“You haven’t been in the practice rooms,” he adds after a beat.
You nod once. “I prefer practicing at home.”
He presses his lips into a line. “Same.”
There is another pause. He shifts the papers in his hands, gaze dropping to the floor for a second before returning to yours.
“I’ve been meaning to say something,” he begins, voice a bit more careful now. “About what happened.”
You wait.
“I was harsh. I didn’t listen. You tried to bring ideas, and I shut them down without even giving them a chance.” He looks down at his notes. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. That this is a duet and that it’s not about control.”
“I’ve played a lot of music,” he continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever played with someone who made me question the way I hear things.”
You fiddle with your phone as you listen to him open his heart to you.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like an accompanist,” he says softly. “You’re not. You never were.”
“I’m not good at this whole collaboration thing. I’m not good at letting go of what I think is right. That doesn’t mean I didn’t respect you.”
You study him, his eyes full of sincerity and the way he clutches his folder like it’s the only thing keeping his hands steady.
You believe him.
“I don’t want to give up this piece,” you say quietly.
“I don’t want that either.”
You’re both still standing in the middle of the hallway, the crowd thinning as most students begin to trickle toward the stairwell. You glance toward the exit, then back at him.
“So what now?” you ask, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the edge of your mouth.
He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder. “I was actually heading to the café. My violin is in the lockers near the practice rooms.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I want to come?”
He shrugs, a hint of playfulness finally breaking through the tension. “Well, I wouldn’t complain if I bumped into you and you showed me your ideas over some coffee.”
You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face betrays you.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
The café is quieter than usual for a Friday afternoon. You sit across from Gunwook at a small table in a corner.
You stir your drink absently, watching the froth on the coffee. Gunwook’s elbow is propped on the table, his fingers skimming the rim of his cup, but you catch the way his eyes flick toward you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
Neither of you speaks for a moment.
Then, finally, you slide a small folder across the table.
“My notes,” you say simply, though your voice is quieter than usual. “On the Prokofiev. I’ve been writing down stuff since we started practicing. It’s what I was trying to do during our last practice even though you absolutely hated it.”
He doesn't reach for the folder immediately. His gaze lingers on it, thoughtful. Then he looks up at you.
“You kept working on this?” he asks.
You shrug. “It’s not like I ever stopped hearing it in my head.”
He opens the folder, carefully, like it’s something delicate. His brows draw together slightly as he flips through the pages. Lines of annotations in pencil, sketches of rhythm variations, even notes like ‘waayy faster’ are scribbled next to one section.
“I’m sorry,” Gunwook says then. It comes out low and clear. “Not just for what I said. For how I made you feel. I know I can be a lot, especially in rehearsal.”
You look at him, startled by the directness. “I wasn’t exactly graceful either. I should’ve tried harder to explain myself. I guess I just kept thinking you didn’t care what I thought.”
“I do.” He lifts his eyes to meet yours. “I cared way too much, and I didn’t know how to show it without trying to control everything.”
Something softens in your chest at that. You tilt your head. “Is that your way of admitting I was right?”
His lips twitch, and he sighs dramatically. “Unfortunately, yes.”
You both laugh this time, and something about the sound seems to reset the room, easing the tension.
Gunwook taps a finger on one of your notes. “This one, what do you want to do with this part?”
“I imagined it like a conversation, but not a calm one. Like two people arguing with notes instead of words. At the end there’s still harmony in it, like they reached an understanding, even if it was a messy one.”
His eyes flick up to yours again, and for a second, neither of you says anything. But you know he understands. You can see it in the way his expression softens, in how he leans slightly closer across the table.
“I like that,” he says. “I want to try it your way.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really.” He smiles, a little crooked this time. “Even if it’s a crazy suggestion.”
“You mean especially because it’s a crazy suggestion.”
He laughs. “Right. That.”
For a while, the two of you go through the rest of the notes together. You explain where you imagined slowing down or pushing forward, what you think would sound better for the violin part.
Gunwook listens more than he speaks, but when he does speak, it’s thoughtful, engaged. He points out where your ideas could fit naturally with the way he’s been playing, and where they could challenge him in a good way.
It feels like the kind of collaboration you were hoping for all along.
Gunwook leans back in his chair, stretching slightly. “You know,” he says, “I wasn’t kidding when I said your ideas got stuck in my head. I played it your way once. Just to see.”
You blink. “You did?”
He nods. “It sounded chaotic. But it was quite interesting.”
A slow smile spreads across your face. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
He grins. “Of course it was.”
Then, a little hesitantly, Gunwook speaks again. “Do you want to, uhm, maybe stay a bit longer? We could try going over some of the phrasing again?”
You consider it for a moment. His ears are a little pink, and he’s not quite meeting your eyes. It’s as if he’s suddenly turned all shy.
You nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
His face relaxes, and the small smile returns.
As you pull the folder back toward you and start flipping to the next page, your fingers brush his lightly.
Neither of you pulls away immediately.
And while neither of you says anything about it, the two of you can feel it in the air. This duet is turning into something more than music.
The performance hall is silent.
You stand behind the curtain, heart beating fast but steady. You’ve practiced the opening notes of Prokofiev’s Violin Sonata No. 2 in D Major so many times that you’re convinced you could play it asleep.
Beside you, Gunwook adjusts the collar of his shirt, then flexes his fingers once, twice, like he’s shaking something off. There’s a glimmer of nervousness in his eyes.
He glances over. “You ready?”
You give a small nod. “Are you?”
He lets out a soft huff of a laugh. “With you there? Yeah.”
Before you can reply, the stage director calls the two of you on stage. The stage stretches out before you, the lights soft and golden. Applause greets the two of you loudly.
Gunwook walks first, bow in hand, violin tucked securely under his arm. You follow, your shoes quiet against the wood. As you settle in front of the piano and place your fingers above the keys, there’s a moment where your eyes meet.
And then, it begins.
It’s exactly like the two of you have practiced. The same familiarity of the piece washing over you. It’s like you’re back in the practice room with Gunwook again.
You let yourself lean into the unexpected comfort of playing a piece you know inside out. A piece with phrasing you and Gunwook came up with.
On stage, with everyone watching, the piece feels even more like it was made for the two of you.
And you know he hears it too.
When it ends, the crowd is silent for a few seconds. You look over to Gunwook, who gives you a slightly confused look, before the applause breaks out.
Your eyes meet your teachers’, who look at you with a look you’ve never seen before.
You stand up from your spot and stop once you’re standing right next to him. The two of you bow.
Gunwook turns toward you, and you toward him. His eyes are wide, lit with something you’ve only seen once before, during that rehearsal when you both actually smiled at the chaos of the piece. This time, though, the smile doesn’t stop at his mouth. It reaches his whole face.
You both walk offstage, the adrenaline still buzzing through your fingers.
Backstage is quiet, save for a few techs and students from other duets whispering about the performance.
You’re about to head for your things when Gunwook says your name.
You stop.
He steps toward you slowly. He looks extremely nervous, as if he’s about to go on stage.
“I’ve been thinking about something since the day you walked out.”
You look at him, eyebrows slightly raised.
“I didn’t understand what this duet really was at first,” he says. “I thought it was about control. But every time we practiced, you kept pulling the music somewhere new. Somewhere I didn’t expect.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I hated it, because it meant letting go. It made me feel things I didn’t plan for.”
His gaze lifts to meet yours fully.
“But it also made the music better. You made it better. And I couldn’t admit it, when I realized I wasn’t just playing for the grade. I was playing for you. With you.”
Your chest tightens.
“I was scared that if I let myself follow where you led, I’d lose everything I’ve once learned about music.” His voice softens. “But now I think I’ve gained something I didn’t even know I wanted.”
There is silence once again. He steps closer, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his breathing.
“So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to play with you again. Not just for school and for exams. But because you make me want to play. Because—” he hesitates for only a moment “—because I think I like you.”
For a second, the only sound is the distant murmur of the audience still chatting in the hall.
“You think?” You tease with a smile on your face.
He exhales, laughing under his breath. “I know.”
You tilt your head slightly, something playful in your eyes. “Good. Because I didn’t go through all that fighting and storming out just for an uncertain confession.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course you’d make me work for it.”
You lean in, just enough for your shoulders to brush.
❪ one-shot, violinist!gunwook, pianist!fem!reader, strangers to lovers ❫
park gunwook lives for classical music and his violin. when his final exam is turns out to be a duet, he grows anxious about how well he's able to perform with a pianist he has never met before. with only one month to practice, will things turn out for the worse or better?
pairing: park gunwook x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 529
notes: 大家中秋快乐 <33, not super happy with this tbh, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from zb1 - eternity
PARK GUNWOOK smiles to himself as he steps onto yet another leaf, relishing in the soft crunch that it makes beneath his boot. the trees around you are covered in hues of yellow and orange. leaves desperately hang onto tree branches before the wind blows them away, sending them floating to the ground.
“seems like fall is here,” gunwook comments. he stuffs his hands into his pockets, hiding his skin from the cool autumn air.
“finally,” you sigh. the wind rustles your hair, sending stray strands covering your eyes and blocking your vision. “it felt like summer would never end.”
gunwook hums, reaching up to brush a hand through his unstyled hair. “you’ll start complaining again when it gets colder soon,” he teases.
“shut up,” you laugh, playfully swatting your hand at his shoulder. gunwook laughs in response, the sound making you smile brightly in return.
a comfortable silence falls between you, only occasionally interrupted by the roaring engines of passing cars and the quiet chirps from the birds above. the sun slowly dips below the horizon, illuminating the world in beautiful but blinding golden light.
you turn, finding your attention on gunwook once again. he seems to glow in golden hour. his eyes shine the colour of honey and his flushed cheeks only seem to add to his natural charm. he keeps pace with you easily, occasionally straying from the path to step on any nearby leaf and smiling brightly when they crunch under his shoes.
the sunlight quickly begins to dissipate; the warmth leaves alongside it. shivers race down your spine as another gust of wind blows by. it feels icy against your cheeks as you wrap your arms around your torso. goosebumps arise against the exposed skin on your arms, refusing to disappear even when you rub your hands against your skin.
“here,” gunwook says softly as he carefully drapes the fabric around your shoulders. his nimble hands tug the zipper upwards, effectively trapping you within the warmth of the soft jacket. it’s oversized on you, the sleeves covering your hands like mittens and only leaving your fingertips exposed.
he sheepishly smiles at you; rosy cheeks and a bright smile paint his features. gunwook scratches at the nape of his neck - a nervous habit. “you’ll catch a cold if you keep shivering like that.”
you would be lying if you said gunwook didn’t make you nervous. butterflies swarm throughout your stomach, getting caught beneath the lump that has formed in your throat. your heart races; you can feel it pounding faster with each passing second.
swallowing your anxiety, you reach over, carefully brushing your knuckles against gunwook’s. a second passes before he reaches over, hesitantly taking your hand into his own. his skin feels warm against yours, though a little calloused from hours of guitar practice. he intertwines your fingers with ease, ending the action with a gentle squeeze.
shivers race down your spine at the action. you smile softly, nervously chuckling as you knock your shoulder into his. “thank you, gunwook.” the wind carries your words away, sending a new flurry of leaves tumbling to the ground.
he smiles brightly in return. “anything for you.”
if you liked this fic, please comment, reblog, or leave feedback !! and if you want to support me, check out my zb1 masterlist <33
this just proves that gunwook is a neck kisser.. someone hold me, i feel dizzy rn 😮💨 you can Not tell me how that man likes to kiss you neck, even going through heights just to place butterfly kisses on your neck to make you giggle.
gunwook’s lips place quick kisses on your neck, you could even feel him smile against your skin as he places a bunch of kisses on you. pulling him away with a giggle, your smile is sweet as you look at gunwook, your eyes gaze upon his heart melting gaze as you leaned in and gifted him a sweet kiss, making gunwook smile against your lips as he pulls you in closer, making you land on his lap as he kissed you even more.
