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geum seongje x fem! reader (one shot) | whc 2 ★
pairing: geum seongje x fem! reader (that has personality of glinda from wicked)
wc: 4.4k
warnings: intended lowercase, usage of y/n, a bit of jealousy, cursing, smoking, probably slightly ooc seongje
genre: slight angst to fluff, a bit of enemies to lovers (??)
summary: seongje needs help fixing up his image and becoming more popular, so he reaches out to the most popular and well-liked girl at school with a bubbly, sweet and eccentric personality. and he ends up being no exception to her charm, falling for her just as hard as everyone else.
author’s note: finally watched wicked: for good in the cinema and as someone who heavily relates to glinda, i decided to write a fic like this. 🫧🪄♡ likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated !!
seongje was pretty familiar with the people at his school — he knew who were the nerds, he recognized his lackeys, just like the mean girls who usually also stuck by his side. he didn’t certainly care about any of these groups. at the end of the day, seongje had his own status to live up to.
however, considering his work for the union, he wasn’t the most diligent student one could meet. he skipped a lot, showing up to school only once in a while, thinking he could just get his way anyway — well, today he had to find out that wasn’t the case.
the door to the principal’s office shut behind him with a soft click, way too calm for what had just happened inside. temporary suspension. the words clung to his ears, irritating more than shocking.
you’re getting into fights while wearing the school uniform, it’s damaging the school’s image. this is your final warning.
seongje scoffed as he walked down the hallway, shoulders loose, hands buried in his pockets. the same uniform they were complaining about still hung perfectly on him. he kicked an empty can down the corridor, watching it roll and crash uselessly into a wall.
when he came back, they wanted better grades. better behavior. a cleaner image.
he laughed under his breath. he had worked too hard for the one he already had. being strong, being feared, being malicious — that wasn’t something you just wiped away. it was earned. it was proof. proof that he belonged to the union, proof that no one should test him unless they wanted something broken.
“hyung?”
one of his lackeys hurried up behind him, voice hesitant, like he was afraid to speak too loudly in seongje’s presence.
“what.” seongje didn’t stop walking.
“uh… since you’re absent a lot, you probably don’t know, but there’s this new girl.”
seongje glanced at him, unimpressed. “get to the point.”
“y/n!” the lackey said quickly. “she’s really popular. teachers love her, students love her — she’s sweet, helps people out, always smiling. kinda… perfect.”
that made seongje stop. he turned slowly, eyes sharp and unreadable.
“and?”
“i just thought— if the school wants you to fix your image when you come back…” the lackey swallowed. “if anyone would be willing to help with that, it’d probably be her.”
seongje stared ahead for a moment, jaw tightening. sweet. well liked. trusted. everything he wasn’t, everything he’d never tried to be. he imagined it for half a second — teachers smiling at him instead of watching him, students not flinching when he passed. the thought made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.
violence was easier. fights were honest. adrenaline, blood, the thrill of being challenged… that was romantic in its own way. this? this felt foreign.
“…tch.” he turned away again, clicking his tongue. “sounds annoying.”
but as he headed toward the exit, the name stayed with him longer than he wanted it to.
y/n.
someone sweet, huh?
that lead to one day when seongje decided to wait by the school entrance for the sweet girl everyone wouldn’t shut up about. he wasn’t even sure how he’d recognize you, but the moment you stepped outside, it clicked.
you moved easily, like you didn’t have a care in the world, smiling as a small group followed you around. someone offered to carry your bag, someone else asked if you wanted to grab food with them. you turned them down nicely, but you were clearly enjoying the attention.
seongje rolled his eyes. figures.
you weren’t really watching where you were going, too busy dealing with everyone else, and that’s how you walked straight into him.
“—hey.” he cleared his throat and smiled down at you, like he’d been waiting for this. you jumped a little. of course you’d heard about him. everyone had.
you took a breath, then smiled anyway.
“oh, you must be seongje!”
“yeah, yeah. princess.” he said, unimpressed. “save the politeness. i need to talk to you. alone.”
his eyes slid toward the people around you, and that was enough. they hesitated, then slowly backed off. your smile faltered just a bit, and seongje caught it.
for a second, he thought about it — how easy it might be to mess with that perfect image of yours, see what happened when someone like him pushed.
too bad he didn’t have time for that.
“…sure.” you said, after a moment.
you followed seongje a few streets away from the school, not knowing that letting him pull you aside was the start of something you wouldn’t be able to walk away from so easily.
he lit up a cigarette the moment you stopped walking. the smoke barely had time to rise before you brought a hand to your nose, your smile tightening, still polite but clearly strained.
yeah, he thought. definitely used to people going easy on you.
seongje exhaled shamelessly, letting the smoke drift your way anyway.
“i got suspended.” he said. “few fights. uniform still on. school didn’t like that.”
he glanced at you, then really looked, eyes slow and unapologetic.
“now they want me to clean up.” he went on. “better grades, better behavior, whole ‘nice student’ act. like i know how to do that.”
his gaze slid over you again, almost amused. “you on the other hand… seem pretty good at that stuff,” he added. “being liked. popular.”
and as much as he hated to admit it, he got it. you were pretty. the kind of pretty that made people want to be nice, want to help, want to stay. add that smile you kept ready all day and it made sense why everyone was tripping over themselves just to stand close to you, hoping for a little bit of your attention.
“well, seongje,” you said lightly. “i’m flattered, really. and… i mean, it’s true. when it comes to this stuff, there’s probably no one better than me.”
you looked way too pleased with yourself. seongje clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but his gaze lingered longer than he meant it to.
before he could say anything, you moved, circling around him slowly. he felt your eyes on him, sharp and curious, and it made his shoulders tense. then suddenly you were behind him, hands on his shoulders, straightening his back.
“—what are you doing?” he yelped, jerking slightly, not expecting you to be so bold with him.
you took the cigarette from his fingers without asking and crushed it under your foot. he opened his mouth to complain, then stopped.
“this is gonna be hard, mister.” you said, calm and confident. “but nothing’s impossible when i’m involved.”
you tossed your hair and stepped closer, way too close. his breath hitched before he could stop it. your face was just inches away now, eyes bright, curious. you reached up and gently slid his glasses off, studying his face like he was some kind of project.
seongje froze. people didn’t get this close to him. they didn’t touch him like this. and your perfume, sweet and soft, made his head feel light.
then you paused. your smile tightened, just a little.
“…nevermind.” you said quietly, putting the glasses back on his nose.
the spell snapped.
“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, annoyed and defensive. “i’m a good-looking guy, actually, you know.”
you laughed, like you weren’t even taking him seriously, already digging through your bag. you pulled out a pink glitter pen and caught his hand before he could pull away.
“okay, okay,” you said. “still. this is a lot of work. meet me tomorrow at five.”
you wrote your address right onto his palm, your fingers warm against his skin.
“and no cigarettes.” you added, smiling sweetly.
then you turned and walked away, leaving seongje staring after you, jaw tight, pulse annoyingly fast.
he was irritated. distracted. and somehow, completely and unfairly mesmerized.
and there he was the next day.
when he stopped in front of your house, he actually hesitated. just for a second. it was big — really big.
so not only did everyone fawn over you at school, you’d been born with a golden spoon too. figures.
seongje let out a quiet sigh and rang the bell.
you opened the door almost immediately, and whatever comment he’d been about to make died on his tongue.
out of uniform, you looked even more… wow.
you were wearing a pink dress that looked closer to a gown than something people wore around the house, fabric soft and flowing, like you’d just stepped out of a fairytale. casually. like it was nothing.
extra much, he thought, clicking his tongue.
and yet, annoyingly, something about it got to him. the way all that elegance and drama seemed effortless on you. like this world of glitter and softness was just… yours.
you grabbed his hand without warning, fingers warm and familiar, like you’d known him for years.
“this is gonna be so much fun!” you giggled, already pulling him inside.
he had to laugh under his nose. dragging a guy you barely knew straight to your bedroom. did you seriously have no sense of danger? did you not realize what someone like him could do to you if he wanted?
the thought barely had time to settle before it got knocked clean out of him though. your room stopped him in his tracks.
a massive closet lined with clothes in every shade and style imaginable. shelves full of trinkets, framed pictures of you smiling in different places, different outfits. pink bedding, soft and plush, like it had never known anything rough. the air smelled like vanilla and roses, sweet and suffocating in the strangest way.
seongje stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, feeling completely out of place.
like a wolf that had somehow wandered into a dollhouse, and wasn’t sure whether he wanted to tear it apart or stay a while longer.
you wasted no time. the moment the door shut behind him, you shoved him down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as you stood in front of him, armed with the same pink glitter pen and a small notebook.
“okay,” you said brightly, tapping the pen against the page. “so. we’re working with… a gangster who smokes, skips class, and gets into fights. and we’re turning that into a respectable young man with decent grades.”
you hummed to yourself while scribbling something down, then suddenly plopped down right beside him, way too close. before he could react, you took his hands in yours without hesitation.
seongje swallowed. he wasn’t used to people sitting this close. touching him this casually.
“my dearest,” you started.
my dearest? did those words mean anything to you, or did you just throw them around like confetti?
you inhaled, serious now. “i’ve helped a lot of hopeless cases, you know. we just need to make you… charming. a charming young man.”
he scoffed softly, but you were already continuing.
“that does mean dropping a few things, though.” you added, eyes flicking to his shirt. “this one first.” you pointed at the tiger print stretched across his chest.
“what? why?” he frowned. “it’s cool.”
you smiled at him, sweet and merciless, shaking your head.
“…no. it’s really not.”
before he could argue, you stood up and headed straight for the massive closet. seongje watched you disappear between rows of clothes, then blinked when you came back holding several neatly folded pieces — clearly men’s clothes.
“you just… have those?” he asked, confused.
“of course.” you said easily. “for my future boyfriend.”
he scoffed. “what, you wanna dress him up like a doll?”
the words had barely left his mouth before you were pushing the clothes into his arms.
“change.”
somehow, embarrassingly fast, he did.
when he stood up again, the mirror caught him off guard. the clothes were modest, clean, stylish in a way he’d never bothered with. they fit him too well. he clicked his tongue, annoyed.
“don’t get used to it.” he muttered.
you ignored that, sitting him down on your chair and stepping behind him with a brush in hand. gently, you started working through his slightly long, neglected hair. he stiffened at first, then slowly went still, letting you do it.
“from now on,” you said casually “you say ‘excuse me’ instead of shoving people. ‘thank you’ instead of staring them down. and you really need to stop smiling like that.”
“like what?” he grumbled.
“like you’re about to bite someone.” you replied.
he huffed, but didn’t pull away.
your hands kept moving, careful, patient, and after a moment he spoke again, quieter this time.
“…doesn’t it get tiring?”
you paused just slightly.
“doing all of this. every day.”
your expression dipped for just a moment when you looked at him, something softer slipping through, and then you turned back to his hair like nothing happened.
“sometimes.” you said softly. “but it’s a small price to pay if it means people like you.”
your fingers kept moving, slow and careful.
“i like being liked.”
it sounded simple, but it wasn’t. it felt a little too honest.
seongje nodded, not really knowing what to say. he wasn’t good with this kind of thing — feelings, quiet moments, especially not with someone like you. someone gentle and dramatic and way too sweet for a guy like him.
“…you don’t feel real.” he muttered before he could stop himself. he winced slightly. “not fake. just— like you’re always putting something on.”
you hesitated, just barely.
“your smile could use some work too.” he added, glancing away. “it was really strained yesterday. could end up hurting one of your fans’ feelings.”
you scoffed softly.
“watch it.” you said, playful but sharp. “you’re still a student. don’t talk back to your teacher like that.”
but when you smiled this time, it wasn’t perfect. it was smaller, genuine.
and seongje laughed.
somehow, seeing you like this, less polished and more real, was way better than that flawless image everyone else seemed so obsessed with.
once you were done with his hair, you turned him back towards the mirror, hands still resting on his shoulders.
seongje stared. longer than he should’ve.
he looked… different. clean. put together. almost harmless. if baekjin saw him like this, he’d probably lose his mind and tell him to get the hell out until he looked like himself again.
“god, i’m so good.” you said, beaming at his reflection like it was your own masterpiece.
“and you’re still not gonna admit it was easy ’cause i’m handsome?” he shot back, smirking.
you glanced at him, unimpressed.
“nope. you’re still a punk.” you said sweetly. “but don’t worry. i’m not giving up.”
you fluttered your lashes, dramatic as ever, and for some reason that tiny gesture hit him. hard.
then you clapped your hands.
“okay. next lesson!” you said. “how to talk to girls.”
he scoffed lightly. “seriously?”
“dead serious. easiest way to get popular.” you replied, then pointed at yourself. “pretend i’m a girl you like.”
his chest tightened. pretend. right.
he tried to play it cool, leaned back a little, said something smooth enough. or at least he thought it was.
you just looked at him. blank. unimpressed.
then you suddenly curled up into a ball, groaning dramatically.
“oh my god.” you sighed. “you’re toughest case i’ve ever had.”
he rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth now. “come on. i’m not that bad.”
you straightened up, closer again, eyes sharp.
“no, listen,” you said. “you don’t stare people down like you’re about to fight them. you soften your voice. you smile — not that scary one. this one.” you demonstrated, and it wasn’t the polished smile from school. it was warm and easy.
and that’s when it got to him — you weren’t just teaching him. you were doing it to him without even trying. the way you leaned in, the way you talked, the way you laughed when he messed up… it all slid right under his skin.
seongje clicked his tongue, annoyed at himself. he’d fought bigger guys, scarier guys, and never flinched.
but you?
he wasn’t immune to your charm. and realizing that made his pulse quicken in a way he didn’t know how to fight yet.
after your demonstration, seongje blinked, heat creeping up his neck.
“maybe… maybe this was a bad idea.” he muttered, wanting to stand up from your chair and carefully leave this battlefield, but before he could move, you stepped closer, catching his hands in yours. your touch was gentle, but deliberate, grounding him in place.
“no.” you said softly, leaning closer with every word, your gaze unwavering. “i’ll make you popular. for all the good reasons, not the bad ones.”
his glasses slid down slightly on his nose, and he felt… unsteady. he had never been looked at like this. never had someone make him feel exposed, almost defenseless. he swallowed hard, realizing with a slow, sinking thrill that you really knew your craft.
the rest of that evening blurred into even more of your ridiculous lessons, all tangled up with your laughter, your sweet voice, and those strange, dance-like movements you kept making around your bedroom.
by the time seongje finally got home, the silence hit him hard. your absence felt loud and empty.
he still had something, though. the clothes you’d given him, neatly packed into a cute pink bag. when he opened it, your scent spilled out. it made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t like.
he’d spent one day with you. just one. and he already… felt attached.
it was stupid. you were only supposed to help him fix his problem. he’d act like a model student for a few days, let the teachers calm down, then go back to his usual ways once everyone got bored and stopped caring. that was the plan.
but now it felt like more than that. way more.
the next day felt just as empty. knowing you were at school, smiling, swaying, handing out your attention so freely… it made something sharp twist in his chest.
why did you have to be nice to everyone?
no wonder people fell at your feet, the way you called everyone your dearest, the way you batted your lashes like it meant nothing. it pissed him off.
and that alone should’ve scared him.
he couldn’t wait to get to school — a thought he never imagined crossing his mind.
because now, he wanted your attention too.
and when his temporary suspension finally ended, seongje did come back to school.
his uniform was neat this time. no tiger-print shirt lurking underneath, just the clean, stylish button-down you’d picked out for him. he’d even tried to fix his hair the way you had at your place — not perfect, but close enough.
he looked… charming, just like you planned.
even his smile was different now. no sharp edge to it. no threat.
the moment you spotted him in the hallway, you waved at him immediately.
“now look at you.” you said brightly. “doesn’t he look great, everybody?”
your classic smile followed, and just like that, the people around you echoed it back, nodding, agreeing, praising him without a second thought.
that’s when it hit him.
you had power.
not the kind baekjin held in the union. not the kind seongje owned in back alleys and broken knuckles. yours was quieter, prettier… the kind of power that made people bend however you wanted to without them even realizing. like your word was the law.
“thank you, thank you.” seongje said, smiling and waving back at them, playing along.
he timed it perfectly, catching the teachers watching from their office doors. from the way they looked — surprised, approving — he finally let out a quiet breath of relief.
it really was working…
and seongje, he thought that meant that something had changed.
that now, after everything — the clothes, the lessons, the effort — you and him were… on the same level. that you’d walk with him, sit with him, maybe laugh with him instead of at the center of everyone else.
but you didn’t.
the whole day, you were surrounded. smiling, chatting, touching arms with others. your little crowd followed you everywhere, hanging onto every word like it was gospel.
loyal little subjects, he thought bitterly.
every time he tried to catch your eye, someone else was already there. every time he took a step towards you, you were pulled in another direction, laughing, twirling, existing like you belonged to everyone else, but him.
and it pissed him off.
more than that — it hurt.
he realized it sometime before lunch, the ugly truth settling in his chest. during his suspension, he’d stopped caring about the school, about the image, about getting the teachers off his back. somewhere along the way, all of that had been replaced by you.
and you?
you weren’t falling for him.
you weren’t even looking at him the same way he looked at you.
by the time the bell rang, his patience was gone.
he ducked into the bathroom, gripping the sink as he stared at his reflection. the neat uniform. the button-down. the hair styled just right.
a prince.
that’s what he looked like.
“fuck!” he snapped, voice echoing off the tiles.
his hand shot up, fingers raking through his hair, ruining it on purpose. he messed it up until it looked wild again. until it look familiar and real.
“what’s the point…” he growled at his reflection, eyes dark.
what was the point of being charming if it didn’t get your attention?
no one had ever made him feel this stupid. this angry. this desperate.
but you know what?
whatever.
the way seongje’s hair sat messily on his head now reminded him of something important — that no matter what you taught him, no matter how carefully you shaped him into something clean and presentable, he was still seongje. the strong, sharp and violent geum seongje. and some pretty clothes and practiced smiles weren’t going to erase that.
after splashing water on his face, he stepped back into the hallway, jaw tight. as he passed your classroom, his steps slowed.
the door was open.
inside, he saw you sitting there, chin resting on your hand, listening to everyone talk at you. laughing softly, reacting just right. glowing. still the people’s princess.
his chest tightened.
not for long, he thought.
the door slammed open.
seongje came in like a storm, boots echoing against the floor, his presence cutting through the room in an instant. before anyone could react, before you could react, his hand closed around your wrist firmly.
gasps filled the classroom.
“seongje—” someone started.
too late.
he dragged you back into the hallway, steps quick, grip steady. your composure cracked immediately, confusion flashing across your face as you struggled to keep up.
“where are you dragging me, you brute?” you demanded, voice sharp, but still whimsically dramatic.
he dragged you into a quiet corner of the school and only then stopped, chest rising and falling, his breath shaky.
you ripped your hand out of his grasp immediately.
“didn’t i teach you how to talk to girls?” you snapped, forcing steadiness into your voice.
“that was way too rough. and your hair— what did you even do to it? it looked fine this morning. here, let me—” you reached for him without thinking, like it was an already established habit between you two, but this time, he caught your hands midair. fingers firm around your wrists, stopping you completely. when you looked up, he was already staring at you. not angry, not smug. just… bare.
“yeah.” he started quietly. “you were right.”
his grip loosened, but he didn’t let go yet.
“i’m a hopeless case.” he swallowed hard, jaw tightening as if he was physically forcing himself not to retreat.
“but i…” his voice faltered. “i don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot.”
he sucked in a breath and let it out sharply, like the words were fighting their way out of him.
“i want you to look at me. not them. but me.” his voice dropped.
“i don’t want you to belong to everyone else. i know i’m rough,” he went on, a crooked smile tugging at his lips like armor he didn’t fully believe in. “selfish. violent.”
his eyes searched your face, wary now, vulnerable despite the bravado.
“but opposites work, don’t they?”
there was a beat of silence, and then he let out a quiet sound, almost a plea.
“be mine.”
his thumb twitched against your wrist.
“please.”
heat rushed to your face immediately. you’d heard confessions your whole life — pretty words, practiced declarations of love, boys tripping over themselves just to be noticed by you.
but this one hit differently.
maybe because it was seongje. maybe because his voice wasn’t steady, because his hands were still holding yours like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
and maybe because he was the wearing clothes you’d once bought for a future that wasn’t supposed to have a face yet. you remembered laughing it off back then, pretending you didn’t notice how perfectly they fit him.
“i’m… i’m high-maintenance,” you whispered, cheeks warm, eyes flicking up to his. there was a soft pout on your lips, something honest and unguarded. “you know that, right?”
his laugh was quiet, the familiar signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“i know. and it still doesn’t make me want you any less.”
for a moment, the world felt impossibly small. just the two of you, close enough to feel each other breathe.
you nodded.
and the way his eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face, was almost enough to make you laugh.
still holding your hands, he pulled you towards him, suddenly urgent, and kissed you, his lips warm on yours, mixing with the sweet taste of your vanilla lip gloss.
you froze for half a second, heart hammering in your ribcage, and then you slowly melted into it, kissing him back just as fiercely.
when you finally pulled away, breath unsteady, your fingers were already in his hair, smoothing it instinctively.
“but…” you murmured, thumb brushing along his temple “as my… boyfriend, i can’t let you walk around looking like this.”
his grin came easy this time, warm and genuine, eyes soft in a way you’d never seen before.
“okay, princess.” he said, leaning in just a little closer. “whatever you say.”
fin.
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