im.your.gabz.✴︎

[𑣲⋆] conteúdo: wonwoo × f!reader, fluff (DEMAIS!), coworkers to lovers, ~1k palavrinhas e acho que é só isso!!

[𑣲⋆] notinha da gabz, a sua favorita: e veio aí!! já fazia um tempinho que eu queria escrever com ele, vocês sabem (valeu, anon!! 😝), o nome vem de uma música dos santos bravos (tô viciada, eles são muito fofos) e porque eu achei que fez sentido por causa do nome do wonwoo (?). enfim, espero que vocês gostem (e principalmente você anon que me fez o pedido!!), beijoquitas de paçoquita!! 👠

Você era a luz solar do escritório. Vivia sorrindo — o que podia ser irritante para os mal-humorados do departamento em que trabalhava —, mas não era nem um pouco para Wonwoo. Na verdade, ele gostava de você. De um jeito que provavelmente não deveria, mas gostava mesmo assim.

As pessoas podiam ser ruins ou folgadas, sei lá, mas ele sempre te ajudava a carregar todos os cafés que pediam para você comprar. Segurava a porta, e, às vezes, você chegava à sua mesa depois do almoço e encontrava uma guloseima acompanhada de um post-it com uma carinha feliz “:)”. Olhava por cima das divisórias, tentando encontrar o rapaz sério de óculos charmosos, e nunca o via te olhando de volta — mas sabia que tinha sido ele.

Antes de você entrar na empresa, ele nunca participava dos jantares do departamento. Agora, fazia questão. Você até tentava fingir que não percebia, mas ele sempre organizava a mesa enorme de forma que os pratos ficassem próximos de você — e aquilo te fazia sorrir ainda mais.

— Escuta, você tá livre no fim de semana? — Wonwoo perguntou numa quarta-feira, seu aniversário, evitando sustentar o olhar no seu por muito tempo. Você percebeu. Exibiu um sorriso e, de repente, ficou vermelha por um motivo que fingia não saber — mas sabia sim. Você estava derretendo, pouco a pouco, aquela camada de gelo dele com sua energia solar e um toque de caos.

— Sim — você assentiu, e ele finalmente te olhou.

Seu coração acelerou. Você tinha uma quedinha — uma queda enorme — por Wonwoo e não sabia muito bem como administrá-la. Ainda assim, achava que fazia um bom trabalho escondendo, no âmbito profissional, uma admiração que ia muito além do ofício impecável dele.

— Te busco às 18h. Tudo bem se for na sua casa, ou...

— Tudo bem! — você respondeu prontamente.

Ele sorriu de leve, e você sorriu de montão. Não era exatamente fácil ver um sorriso surgir nos lábios dele.

Wonwoo te levou ao restaurante mais badalado da temporada. Claro que você se sentiu tímida, meio gata borralheira em meio àquele lugar chique, repleto de pessoas vestidas de forma impecavelmente glamourosa. Mas o olhar de Wonwoo amenizava qualquer complexo. Durante a conversa tranquila, ele observava seu vestido vermelho, as alcinhas, o cabelo levemente ondulado nas pontas — curioso, atento.

Ele adorava seus olhos. Como se ampliavam diante de algo novo. Parecia que você enxergava o mundo de uma forma mais colorida, mais justa, mais bonita. E o mundo se tornava assim toda vez que ele te olhava. Talvez fosse por isso que guardava, em segredo, um sentimento tão intenso, quase imprudente, que o consumia todos os dias de sua vida monótona. Que o fazia sorrir sozinho no apartamento da cobertura. Que o fazia imaginar o quão sortudo seria se um dia pudesse te ter.

— Eu gostei daquela sobremesa que não consegui pronunciar.

— Tenta de novo, você fica fofo fazendo biquinho — Wonwoo incentivou, já do lado de fora, enquanto esperavam o manobrista. (O quão chique era aquele lugar!) Ele estava mais solto — e nem tinha sido pelo vinho, que ele nem tocou, deixando para você por ser o motorista da noite. O relaxamento vinha de você. Sempre vinha.

— Acho que vou te poupar desse crime contra a língua francesa—

Você o interrompeu ao perder o equilíbrio, apoiando-se nele. Estava em um salto só — o outro havia cedido. Era o mais alto que tinha, uma tentativa de diminuir a diferença de altura entre vocês. Beyoncé tinha razão: pretty hurts, não é?

— Ai, merda... meu salto quebrou.

Wonwoo olhou para seus pés, depois te ajudou a entrar no carro. Você sorriu, envergonhada. Ainda tinham combinado de ir ao cinema, mas, com o salto assim, seria impossível.

— Desculpa, Wonwoo. A gente pode assistir alguma coisa lá em casa— ops… extremamente sugestivo — quero dizer... não tem nenhuma intenção por trás. É que eu… não queria que a noite acabasse.

— Eu também não.

Ele sorriu, sem te encarar diretamente. Você só percebeu para onde estavam indo quando ele estacionou em frente a uma farmácia. Pediu que esperasse e voltou com duas garrafinhas de água, alguns band-aids e… surpresa: um presente perfeitamente embrulhado, retirado do porta-malas.

— Feliz aniversário… um pouco atrasado. Mas, considerando o fim trágico do seu sapato, acho que veio em boa hora.

Você sorriu, tentando não rasgar o embrulho — embora, desde pequena, nunca tivesse sido paciente com presentes. Soltou um gritinho ao abrir a caixa: o par de tênis mais bonito que já tinha visto. Justamente aquele Adidas que você cogitava parcelar em mil vezes.

Para Wonwoo, provavelmente não era nada demais.

— Eu não posso aceitar.

— Você falou deles pelos últimos cinco meses. Incansavelmente.

— Como você sabe disso, Wonwoo?

— Porque eu te observo. Todos os dias.

Você engoliu em seco, tímida, envergonhada — mas, ao mesmo tempo, tomada por uma coragem inesperada. Foi por isso que o beijou. Um beijo rápido, suave, como agradecimento.

— Obrigada.

— Pelo tênis?

— Por me enxergar.

Wonwoo respirou fundo. Parecia conter a si mesmo — para não te tocar mais, para não te beijar de novo, para não te levar direto ao apartamento dele e trancar vocês dois ali para sempre. Porque, honestamente, ele já tinha o bastante: seus olhos, sua doçura, sua luz aquecendo-o por dentro.

Mas ele te beijou.

Diferente de você, ele te segurou — a mão firme na sua bochecha, os dedos deslizando pela sua nuca. Quase te puxou para o colo — e, de fato, você só percebeu quando a buzina do carro soou acidentalmente, arrancando risadas sinceras de vocês dois.

— Acho que eu sonho com isso desde o primeiro dia que te vi… na sua entrevista.

— Eu tava estupidamente nervosa.

— E linda.

Ele beijou seus lábios de novo. Depois, sua bochecha.

— E inteligente. E minha.

— Sua? — você questionou.

Ele afastou uma mechinha do seu cabelo. Os olhos brilhavam — por você, só por você.

— É o que eu gostaria que você fosse.

Você sorriu, acariciando o rosto dele — exatamente como sempre imaginou.

— Eu posso ser. Posso ser sua, Jeon Wonwoo.

"how can you be so hot?"

part 2 of umbrella and hot chocolate 1.9k / fluff, neighbors to lovers

The interaction that happened on that rainy day, along with the hot chocolate, was the starting point for you and Johnny to become a constant part of each other’s lives—without either of you even realizing it.

The encounters in the apartment hallways, especially when you were both heading out to your respective universities, started happening more frequently after that day. Johnny also showed himself to be someone you could trust, always ready to help. Like the day you had gone grocery shopping and came back home loaded with bags and, noticing how clearly you were struggling to carry them, Johnny appeared almost like magic, offering his help.

“You’re always showing up to help me, huh? Like a hero.”

Johnny laughed and blushed at the comment you made that day.

But the unexpected meetings between you didn’t happen only inside the building. You had decided to take a walk in the park near your place as a way to get back into healthier habits when, after a while, you ran into Johnny, jogging alongside a golden retriever.

“I swear I’m not following you or anything,” you said, raising your hands as if freeing yourself from any guilt, while Johnny laughed at your (attempted) joke. “Who is this most beautiful thing?” you added, crouching down to pet the dog, who immediately lay down at your feet.

“This is Flower, my aunt’s dog,” Johnny said, amazed at how, in such a short time, she already seemed completely comfortable with you. “Whenever I have some free time, I usually take her for walks here in the park.”

“Because it would be impossible to keep her in that apartment, right?”

Johnny nodded in agreement.

“She usually doesn’t get along well with strangers, but she loved you.”

“But I’m not a stranger.” You finally took your eyes off the dog and looked at the man in front of you. “I’m your friend, right?”

Johnny froze for a moment, then smiled. He was happy to realize that, little by little, he was getting closer to the woman he had a crush on, even if, for now, it was just as her friend.

“Well… it was nice meeting you, Flower.” You stood up and held out your hand to the dog, who promptly placed her paw in yours, leaving both you and Johnny impressed. “I won’t interrupt your walk anymore. See you later, Johnny.”

“Wait!” Johnny practically shouted, instantly getting your attention. “Don’t you want to walk with us? We can drop her off at my aunt’s place and then head home. If you want to, of course.” He said, scratching the back of his neck, a little nervous about your answer.

“I’d love to.”

That day, you walked together, talking, sharing funny moments from your lives, especially from childhood, laughing with complete ease. Later, you briefly met Johnny’s aunt, who was absolutely lovely in the short time you talked, and you caught yourself wondering what Johnny’s parents might be like. You didn’t notice when she winked and gave Johnny a thumbs-up, as if to say “she’s the right one for you”, which left him embarrassed, holding back a smile.

Those encounters, along with the messages you exchanged over the following weeks, made you even more interested in your neighbor, that you felt nervous every time you saw him. Still, you doubted he felt anything for you. What you didn’t know was that the same thing was happening in the apartment next door.

Johnny found himself torn between telling you that he had liked you for a while and the fear of ruining the closeness that had taken so long to build, afraid you might see him as nothing more than a friend or neighbor.

But everything changed on a Saturday afternoon.

You had bought a new shoe rack and were having trouble putting it together. So why not ask your neighbor for help?

You thought about sending a message, even typed it out a few times, only to delete it again. In the end, you decided to go to his apartment instead. You were nervous, and even standing right in front of his door, you considered turning back and trying to assemble the thing on your own one more time. But you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

You heard a muffled “wait a second” from inside. A moment later, the door opened and the scene in front of you made you momentarily forget how to breathe.

Johnny appeared slightly out of breath, his hair damp with sweat, shirtless and wearing only a pair of shorts, completely normal, considering he was alone. Still, it felt like he had stepped straight out of one of your most secret thoughts.

Your gaze dropped before you could stop it, slowly taking in his broad shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest with his heavy breathing, and the perfectly defined lines of his abs. When you realized you’d been staring for far too long, your face heated up and you quickly looked away, focusing on some random spot that suddenly seemed incredibly interesting.

You cleared your throat before letting out a soft “Hi,” quieter than you intended. Johnny took a moment to respond, and a brief silence settled between you, he had noticed where your eyes had been. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit you’d already noticed whenever he got nervous, and let out a short, slightly awkward laugh.

“Hey. Sorry, I was working out. I didn’t think I’d have company, so I didn’t really…” Johnny explained, gesturing over his shoulder toward the inside of the apartment and then at himself, unsuccessfully trying to justify why he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“No, it’s fine!” you nodded way too fast, interrupting him, trying to sound normal, clearly failing. You silently prayed that Johnny couldn’t hear how hard your heart was pounding at the sight of him. “Sorry for interrupting, I’ll just-”

“No!” Johnny hurried to say. “I was already done. Did something happen?” His voice dropped slightly.

“Well… I bought a new shoe rack,” you explained, trying to focus on literally anything other than the shirtless man in front of you. “I thought I could put it together by myself, but I guess that’s not really one of my skills.” You laughed nervously. “Can you help me? It doesn’t have to be right now.”

Johnny smiled, finding the way you got flustered, and tried so hard to stay focused after all that embarrassment, adorable. “Of course I’ll help. Just give me about twenty minutes to take a shower.”

You thought that once he was dressed, you’d calm down. But just the idea of spending more time around him was enough to make you nervous all over again. You tried to blame it on your hormones, but you knew you were just making excuses.

Johnny was already in your apartment, kneeling on the living room floor, trying to organize the pieces scattered around from your failed attempt at assembling the shoe rack. You stayed close in case he needed help, but instead you found yourself watching every little detail of him: the way he furrowed his brow while adjusting a screw, how his arms flexed unconsciously during the process, the small glimpse of his tattoo whenever the sleeve of his white shirt slid up, the sweat starting at his forehead and trailing down his neck, the way he bit his lower lip when something didn’t fit right away.

Every movement made him even more attractive, leaving you nervous, your heart racing in a completely unexpected way. Just as unexpected as the words that slipped out of your mouth:

“How can you be so hot doing something like this?”

The silence that followed was broken only when Johnny choked on his own breath, his hand flying to his chest, eyes wide. You rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, and handed it to him. He drank it quickly.

“What?!” he asked, his voice louder than he meant it to be, and in that moment, you just wanted to disappear. Your face burned as you scrambled to explain what you’d just said.

“I-I mean, you-you know, that’s not what I-well, it is, but-ugh, I don’t know!” Johnny’s initial shock slowly gave way to an overwhelming urge to laugh at how completely tangled you were in your own words.

“Fine! I think you’re really attractive. Handsome. Polite. Funny.” You listed his qualities on your fingers, gesturing way more than necessary. “Lately, I’ve caught myself wanting to kiss you more than once.” Your voice softened. “I don’t know if it’s my hormones, but I think I’m actually starting to like you.”

Silence settled in again, as if Johnny were processing everything you’d said, making sure it wasn’t a dream or something his mind had made up. Then he set the glass of water down somewhere on the living room floor and stepped closer to you, who now stared fixedly at a random spot in your apartment.

He spoke again, calmer this time. “It’s funny, because I’ve been liking you too, for a while now. Even before that umbrella and hot chocolate thing.” You looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “I just didn’t know how to get closer. And later, I didn’t want to ruin what we were building. That friendship you talked about back at the park.” He continued. “But lately, I’ve realized it’s not just a crush anymore. I’m falling for you. For real.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat. Johnny Suh liked you too, long before you’d even realized he existed.

Johnny stepped even closer, gently touching your face, smiling shyly as he watched your cheeks turn pink once again.

“If you still want to,” he said softly, “I really want to kiss you too.”

You didn’t answer. You just grabbed his shirt, and the look in your eyes was all the confirmation Johnny needed before his lips met yours. The kiss started slow, careful. Johnny was afraid of ruining everything, even after waiting so long.

His lips were warm and soft, even better than you’d imagined over the past few days, and the tenderness with which they moved against yours made your heart stutter.

Johnny sighed against your mouth, sending shivers through your entire body. His hand rested at the back of your neck, caressing gently before deepening the kiss, drawing a soft smile from his lips. Even as it grew deeper, the kiss wasn’t rushed, there was desire there, and your hands, now roaming over his back through his shirt, carried just a hint of mischief that made the kiss last longer than it probably should have.

You didn’t realize when you ended up lying down on the living room rug, pulling Johnny down with you. The need for air eventually forced you to break the kiss and your foreheads were resting together. Johnny looked into your eyes, as if trying to memorize every second of what had just happened.

“That was way better than I imagined,” he said, pressing a lingering peck to your lips, like he never wanted to pull away.

“And you really thought about me that much?”

“All the time,” he confessed, smiling, half shy, half emotional. “I imagine you at a family lunch on a random Sunday. I imagine holding your hand. I even imagine our wedding, with Flower bringing the rings.”

“Johnny!” you laughed, giving him a light tap on the shoulder as he laughed too, just picturing it. “Let’s slow down, okay? You’re rushing things.”

“Sorry, I just want you to know that when I like someone…” He gently ran his fingers through your hair, holding your gaze, completely serious. “…I really mean it.”