my wonu

Oh, you’re about to be devastatingly mad. You want to throw the trash bin across the pantry, curse at the manager, maybe even consider resigning on the spot.

But did you?

Obviously not. Moment of weakness, as we speak.

Two hours earlier.

…

Work-life balance? Don’t know her.

Your life had been mundane as usual, and honestly, you didn’t mind that. You just wished your corporate life would stop trying to actively ruin it. Ever since the new CEO took over the man who stepped in after his father—you weren’t sure what to think of him. What you did know was that the company had been overworking its employees nonstop.

You wouldn’t even complain if they at least upgraded the cafeteria menu.

The new caterer didn’t seem to care about repeating the same dishes over and over to the point that one of your coworkers ended up with a stomachache. Not to mention the coffee drip machine sucked. Like, genuinely sucked. Thousand-dime company, yet they never bothered to upgrade the damn coffee machine.

No one wanted to drink that brown liquid. You’d rather dehydrate than willingly swallow it.

Since then, most people have started going out for lunch. Some just kept working through it, to the point of developing gastritis or borderline malnutrition.

But not you.

You refused to starve yourself.

Your mother always said: never be stingy with money when it comes to food. Money comes and goes.

That’s what she said.

Nothing beats a home-cooked meal. You’d choose that over takeout any day, unless you were really busy.

Just in time, it was finally lunch.

You had been anticipating this. Your lunch. Your heavenly five-star meal that you poured your whole heart into this morning.

Heck, you didn’t even eat breakfast. Just that cheap black coffee from the café downstairs.

Today’s packed treasure? A hamburg steak with a molten cheese filling in the center, paired with soft, fluffy rice.

You didn’t forget the fiber either broccoli and roasted potatoes to balance the meal. You swore nothing beat homemade meat: freshly ground beef, breadcrumbs, and spices that actually made sense together.

You’d like to think you’re very good at pounding meat.

The mental image of that juicy steak, gravy cascading over the top and soaking into white rice, made your stomach growl loudly.

God, you couldn’t wait to devour the whole thing. It was your self-reward after hours of sitting in your office chair to the point your ass might permanently imprint into it.

Sure, you couldn’t eat it fresh off the stove but at least the microwave here was more competent than the company’s infrastructure.

With a small, happy hum, you walked to the pantry fridge.

Around this time, the shelves were usually emptier. Only one or two transparent containers remained, so spotting yours should’ve been easy, the pink lunchbox. Your trusted Tupperware.

Of course your food deserved the best of the best. Duh.

You picked it up.

And immediately, something felt… off.

There was a sauce stain around the lid. And now that you thought about it somehow felt lighter than it had that morning.

You frowned but didn’t overthink it.

Until you opened it.

Your steak was…

Gone.

Like, all gone.

Your thick, juicy steak. Your fluffy rice. Your vegetables drowned lovingly in gravy.

Vanished.

Your stomach growled again as you blinked down at the empty container.

You weren’t just hungry. You were starving.

A small, devastated wail almost slipped out of you.

How could someone steal another person’s lunch? That was straight-up cruel. There was absolutely no excuse to think someone needed it more than you.

If anything, you needed it the most.

Because you deserved it. After all the prep. The early alarm. The effort.

You inhaled slowly, trying to be rational.

It would be wildly unprofessional for someone from the PR team to crash out over stolen food. So fine. You’d handle this professionally.

You pulled out your phone and speed-dialed HR. It was important to keep essential contacts ready. That’s what Seungkwan always said.

The call connected.

“Hello, this is Hyunsuk from Human Resources,” a flat voice answered. “How may I help you?”

“Hi, Hyunsuk. I’d like to report a theft.”

“Okay,” he replied. “What was stolen?”

You didn’t hesitate. “My lunch.”

There was a brief pause.

“Was it during company hours or on company property?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot compensate for your loss.”

You frowned. “I don’t want compensation, Hyunsuk.”

You swore you could hear him sigh. “An employee’s lunch is considered personal property.”

“Yes, but isn’t it concerning that theft is happening on company grounds?”

“We have cases like this happen very often,” he said. “The company is not responsible for them.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“If you have anything else to report, please send an email,” he cut in. “My lunch break is starting.”

The line went dead.

Hyunsuk hung up.

You stared at your phone in disbelief. “…But my hamburg steak…”

Your eye twitched.

He just said it happens often.

Then do something about it?

“Whatever. Nobody even likes Hyunsuk.”

In fact, you weren’t sure he liked anyone at all.

With nothing else you could do, you begrudgingly poured yourself a lukewarm cup of coffee and returned to your desk with empty stomach, extra caffeine, and a growing vendetta.

The next day, you decided to let it go.

Okay, maybe you were being too forgiving. But hey, you were just hangry yesterday. Surely it was a one-time thing.

Still, the way Hyunsuk said these “theft incidents” happened often baffled you. As if they were normalizing it.

Like, what’s even the function of all those security cameras around the office?

If they can draw a hard line on “no inappropriate office activities,” then surely they can give justice to your stolen lunch too.

Crazy.

The last time people went into the pantry, they literally saw used condoms in the bin. Goodness gracious, as if the toilet didn’t exist. You’d rather not walk past and hear… unwanted noises either.

You did consider writing a company-wide email and CC’ing everyone. After all, who the hell knew who ate your lunch?

You refused to take this as egg-ceptance.

…Maybe not yet.

Despite yesterday’s tragedy, you still brought your lunch today.

After all, you made mapo tofu. And you were not backing down.

How did you make it again?

Oh, right.

Sichuan peppercorns.

While you weren’t a huge fan of overly spicy food, the spice of life played an important role in cooking. You could never forget the nose-numbing aroma of roasted Sichuan pepper. The thick red oil from the fermented bean paste. The firm, bouncy cubes of tofu holding heat so intense it transcended taste buds.

The Mapo Tofu.

You paired it with plain white rice but nothing could overpower the fragrance of chili oil and peppercorns.

It reminded you of that business trip, when Minghao introduced you to mala hotpot and a whole new universe of Chinese spices. You even brought souvenirs back, mostly seasonings to experiment with.

Bless him and his encyclopedic knowledge.

But today’s version?

Different.

Just in case, you doubled the heat. Twice the ground peppercorn. Extra chili flakes. A spice level too powerful for the mortal tongue.

Right before sealing the lid, you sprinkled a little more pepper.

If anyone dared to open your lunch, a red powdery explosion would await them.

Maybe you did this on purpose.

If they stole it again, you hoped their ass would explode in the toilet like that scene in White Chicks.

Serves them right.

…

Lunch break came.

You approached the fridge like a soldier returning to war.

You prayed the thief hadn’t struck again.

But the moment you picked up your Tupperware, the weight or lack of it—felt ominous.

You opened it and found it was already gone.

Again.

Empty.

But how? Why?

First of all, what the fuck? Second of all, who the hell devoured that hellishly spicy mapo tofu? Surely their stomach would declare war soon.

And third…

What. The. Fuck.

Who was this food-crazed glutton?

“…Wait,” you muttered to yourself. “If someone ate my super spicy Sichuan mapo tofu, their lips should be bright red right now!”

You didn’t hesitate.

Within the remaining minutes of your break, you scanned the entire floor like a detective on a mission.

Red lips. Red lips. Red lips.

But to no avail.

Your pepper-kissed burglar was nowhere to be found.

Much to your annoyance, there were simply too many employees in this company. Half of them wore bold red lipstick anyway. You couldn’t tell if it was spice-induced inflammation or just cosmetics.

You didn’t care.

You just wanted the rat-stealing-food burglar.

It was almost time to go home but unfortunately, a major project was in peak season. Several departments had to stay for overtime.

Including yours.

No one liked overtime.

Sure, you got paid. But was it worth it?

Maybe you should start your own business one day. Open a brunch café. Lower stress. Maybe finally use your bachelor’s degree properly.

You sighed.

Seokmin had given you a small box of macarons earlier after seeing the fury on your face but you hadn’t eaten them. You refused to fill your stomach with pity sweets. Too busy drowning in despair and caffeine as you typed aggressively at your keyboard.

The loud clacking and flipping of papers earned you a few glances.

You didn’t care.

Your food had been stolen. Twice.

Why should you care about their peace when they didn’t care about yours?

Fair is fair.

Eventually, you brushed it off and went downstairs to the convenience store before returning to the office. Instant noodles and sausages.

How classic.

You weren’t alone though.

There was a guy sitting a few seats away. Still in work clothes. His blazer hung over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled just above his elbows. He was eating two cups of buldak ramen, the spicy kind.

It reminded you of your Sichuan mapo tofu.

You felt like you were mourning a loss.

And for some reason, you caught a faint scent of pepper clinging to his suit.

Maybe you were imagining it.

People had been avoiding you all day anyway, some even spraying air freshener after you walked past.

Still, you kept glancing at him.

Was it common for two people to coincidentally crave spicy food on the same day? Watching him slurp down two buldak ramens made your stomach twist.

Noticing your stare, he paused.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned to you. “You got some staring problem?”

His voice was deep and calm but the tone carried an edge.

“What?”

“I said,” he continued, face still stoic, cheeks slightly puffed with noodles, “got some staring problem? I know I’m a sight for sore eyes, but didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude?”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Now it was your turn to feel offended.

You almost apologized earlier. Good thing that you didn’t.

This guy is insufferable.

Judging by his face alone, of course he was. The only good thing about him was his face. And unfortunately, the bad thing was also his face. What a waste of something that pretty.

You couldn’t help but hope there was at least one imperfect thing about him. Maybe his personality was rotten. Maybe he snored. Maybe—

Whatever.

You just hoped his dick is ugly. Then again, no dick is ever pretty anyway.

“Rude…” you muttered under your breath before returning to your convenience-store “meal.”

After a while, you finished dinner and headed back into the company building, americano in hand.

And much to your surprise—

The guy was there too.

Walking in the same direction.

For a second, you almost thought he was a creep.

And then came the real disappointment.

He fucking worked here.

You nearly lost it on the spot.

Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? People in this company were either painfully dull, aggressively gray, or casually insufferable. If you were lucky, you’d meet someone with a decent moral compass.

Rare species.

Standing in the same elevator as him didn’t help. You had a talent for meeting the worst people at the worst possible times.

What’s new?

Still, you caught it again.

That scent. It was faint now but familiar.

The lingering peppery aroma. The same one from your stolen mapo tofu.

Okay. Maybe you were slightly unhinged, grieving over lost lunch.

But still.

You sniffed subtly and shifted a little closer.

The man frowned at you like you’d just malfunctioned.

“Hypothetically speaking,” he said flatly, “if you want to fuck me, you could just say so.”

You blinked.

Excuse me?

Oh, you would absolutely fuck him up alright but that was a different story.

He was insufferable. And irritating him suddenly felt therapeutic.

You scoffed and stepped back into your space.

“You have your entire life to be a jerk,” you shot back. “Why not take today off?”

Now it was his turn to look at you properly.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he replied calmly, “but I’m guessing it’s difficult to pronounce.”

Oh, he was annoying.

“If I wanted to hear from an asshole,” you said sweetly, “I’d fart.”

There was a brief silence.

He stared at you.

You stared back.

He genuinely looked like he was calculating whether you were capable of doing it.

The elevator doors slid open.

You stepped out first.

“See you not later, Mr. Hodenkobold.”

He looked like he was about to fire back but the doors closed before he could.

For once, it felt nice to rage-bait someone else.

Especially after your lunch had been stolen.

So you decided.

For the next two days, you were going to catch the rat-stealing-lunch and end this once and for all.

For a brief, dangerous second, you did consider rat poison. But the thought of going to jail?

Absolutely not.

As tempting as it was, you couldn’t risk it. You had a baby to feed back at your studio apartment.

Your cat.

While you were suffering over your stolen gourmet lunches, your cat—Wonton, the name you lovingly gave her, was happily eating premium-grade cat food.

It was unfair. Really.

So you came up with a plan.

This time, you packed a cute bento-themed lunchbox: omelet nori rolls and rice balls.

Except—

They were made of wax.

Yes. Wax.

You followed a YouTube tutorial. Styrofoam base. Acrylic paint for texture. You even added gloss to make it look freshly glazed. Turns out, you had raw talent for this.

It looked absolutely gouda. An egg-cellent fake lunchbox.

You were certain the food stealer was souper hungry right now.

Okay. You really needed to stop hanging out with Seokmin and his endless food puns.

You even added a faint pepper scent to make it smell convincing. Surely no one was dumb enough to fall for fake food.

…Right?

But if they did? It would be hilarious.

…

When you returned at lunch break and opened the lid, you froze.

“….”

There was one—no, two chunks missing.

A bite taken out of the fake omelet.

You blinked.

What kind of unhinged human gluttony was this?

You couldn’t brie-lieve it.

They actually ate the wax.

The next day, you switched tactics.

You made curry fish head, rich curry paste blooming in oil, coconut milk thickening the broth just the way you liked it. You had to thank Minghao again for that Southeast Asia culinary expedition.

This time?

Untouched.

The container was slightly shifted, the lid smudged but the food remained intact.

You assumed the thief wasn’t a seafood fan.

Or maybe allergic.

That theory lasted exactly twenty-four hours.

The following day, you packed creamy rosé pasta with shrimp and clams. Garnished with basil. Sprinkled with oregano. And, of course, little octopus-shaped cocktail sausages.

For insurance, you taped a note to the lid:

you do not touch. i will find you. bon appetit, mf.

You stuck it firmly on top of your Tupperware.

Surely this would intimidate them.

Surely.

...

You returned during lunch break and immediately noticed the note had slipped to the floor.

You picked it up.

Your handwriting stared back at you.

And underneath—

you. do not touch. i will find you. bon appetit, mf. "𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘"

You stared at it in disbelief at the bold, neat handwriting.

Slowly, you lifted the paper then tore it to shreds with your teeth, pure rage simmering in your veins.

The audacity must be on clearance sale.

When you opened the container, your jaw tightened.

Your pasta? Gone. The noodles devoured and the octopus-shaped sausages? Missing.

The shrimp and clams?

Only to be left behind.

Oh.

So they weren’t allergic.

They were picky.

You clenched your jaw, saliva dampening the dry paper as it scraped against your tongue. “Wow. Tasty, indeed,” you mocked under your breath.

This needs to end now.

You honestly need to lock the fuck in this time, to catch that rat-stealing-food burglar. You just hoped they stepped on dog shit today, that both their pillows smelled horrible, and that they’d have the worst fucking nightmare the moment they woke up.

“Hey,” Seokmin approached you with Soonyoung beside him. “Rice to meet you today.” He greeted cheerily, but the moment he noticed your moody face, he faltered. “Okay… berry sorry for that.”

Both of them leaned against the railings beside you. Soonyoung offered you a lollipop. You needed that so much instead of lighting up tobacco, which you’d quit back in your college days.

“Is it about the lunch stealing again?” he asked. “I carrot believe that person’s kept the stealing streak going this far.”

You gave him a look. It seemed like Seokmin had rubbed off on him with all those food puns.

He raised his hands in surrender. “In my defense, I’m feeling saucy today. It’s alright, we can grab dinner after this—my treat, of course.” Soonyoung tried to reassure you, knowing how furious you get when your food gets stolen.

“Yeah, let’s meat up for dinner!” Seokmin chimed in, making you roll your eyes.

Wait.

That’s it.

You have to meet that fucking rat-stealer face to face.

...

This time, you made your well-crafted most scrumptious, katsu sandwich. Cut in halves, three thick slices stacked neatly inside your Chiikawa-pattern container. Minghao had given it to you after his business trip to Japan, and you gladly accepted it since the cartoon was trending everywhere lately.

You liked the yellow rabbit character. It reminded you of yourself because he’s a big back.

Just like you.

Anyway.

You were not about to let your lunch get taken away this time.

And this time, you were going to protect it like it mattered more than your own life. For the sake of your health insurance, you tried not to pounce on that food burglar.

You were not about to let your money, sweat, and time go to waste again.

Now that you think about it, you probably should’ve shown up ten minutes earlier before catching the culprit.

Standing from your seat, you headed toward the office pantry and peeked inside.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Someone was hunching over the fridge, hand hovering over the transparent containers then toward your Chiikawa lunchbox.

“Hm, this is new…” he murmured. “…and tacky.”

Excuse me?

You weren’t about to back down when someone literally mocked your precious lunchbox pattern. So what? You liked when your mom packed your food in a Hello Kitty container with those little fruit picks shaped like cat ears.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention. He jumped slightly, straightening up.

“Isn’t it too early for lunch break?” you asked, slowly approaching him, arms crossed.

He blinked.

It was the same four-eyed dude who inhaled two fire spicy bowl ramens the other day. You almost scoffed.

“You again,” he echoed. “And who are you?”

He still stood there, relaxed like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

“Me?” you repeated nonchalantly. “I’m not that important. Rather, why don’t we start with you, buddy.”

He looked like he didn’t want to continue this conversation. Probably hoping you’d leave.

Fine.

You indulged him for a moment and gave your name. When he finally replied, you learned his.

Jeon fucking Wonwoo.

You plastered a smile on your face. He turned away, ignoring you. The two of you just stood there for a few tense seconds.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asked, sounding impatient.

“How’s that coffee?” you shot back, blatantly ignoring his question.

Wonwoo frowned, more like bristled at it, as if offended.

“Why would I drink that slimy brown liquid?” he said. “Don’t tell me… you drink that thing?”

“It’s not that bad,” you shrugged.

(It absolutely sucks.)

He chuckled, clearly mocking you. “You sound like you hate yourself.”

Oh, he’s so cocky.

Three days. Three days you’ve suffered because of this stealing bitch.

“Actually…” you stepped closer. “What did you do these past few days?”

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Why? It’s a workweek. What else would I be doing?”

You weren’t buying it. “Do you always come to the pantry this often?”

“…I mean, I have to eat,” he replied like it was obvious. “Of course I come here.”

“Wow, me too!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “I have an idea—why don’t we eat together then?”

That made him falter.

He suddenly looked uneasy at your smile. Like you were plotting something.

“…No, thank you. I prefer eating alone. Now can you leave?”

“Why not?” You stepped closer, almost chest to chest even though he was much taller.

He stiffened but tried to maintain composure, clearing his throat before a grin slowly spread across his face.

“I see. If you wanted me so much, you shouldn’t have thrown yourself at me like that,” he chuckled lowly, eyes dragging down your figure. “All you had to do was ask.”

Your smile dropped instantly and stepped back.

You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face. That smug look made you want to chop off all his limbs.

“Oh, don’t lose that smile,” he tutted. “I’d rather think that mouth could do better. Maybe you’d be my cup of tea. Either way, it’s cheesed to meet you, Miss ____.”

Hell nah.

You were not backing down either.

Smiling sweetly, you replied, “You know what else my mouth could do, Mr. Jeon?”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Hurt your feelings. I think dildo is a perfectly acceptable insult. I’d call you a dick—but you’re not real enough.”

That caught him off guard.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

For the first time, Jeon Wonwoo didn’t know what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” you smiled. “Or maybe my words are true—your dick isn’t that real.”

His eyes darkened as he stepped forward.

“Watch it. Say that again and I’ll put that mouth to good use.”

And then—

A sudden loud gasp from behind.

Both of you turned toward the doorway to see Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung frozen in place, hands dramatically covering their mouths.

“You heard that, guys?!” Seungkwan gasped. “What the fudge—she was about to get dicked down!”

Seokmin clutched Soonyoung’s arm. “Look at them pudding up against each other! They’re both nuts!”

“That’s tea-rrific,” Soonyoung added, “but whisk I’m willing to take for a pear like this!”

“GET OUT OF HERE!” you and Wonwoo barked simultaneously.

In the end, you shared your katsu sandwich with him.

Somehow, it turned into a mutual rant session about Hyunsuk. No one likes him anyway. Glad you’re both on the same boat.

He ended up taking you to dine at a downtown French bistro. Claimed it was “compensation.” Not that you were entirely forgiving about it.

You learned he works in the legal department. Recently promoted. Employee of the Month. Overworked to death.

“So, do you not have a life then?” you asked, noticing he’d loosened two buttons of his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He’s handsome.

Annoyingly attractive.

If only he’d shut up.

But again, no attractive person should be forgiven for food stealing. Especially your lunch.

“I did,” he said, sipping his wine. “Until they put me to work.”

You nodded slowly. Then circled back.

“You could’ve just ordered takeaway. Why my lunch?”

He grinned, leaning back. “Why? Your lunch, of course. Yours is the best I’ve tasted so far.”

The audacity.

Rich in audacity. Poor manners.

“So… what would you like to order?” the waiter asked.

“Right. Food.” Wonwoo skimmed the menu.

“What do you recommend?” you asked.

He hummed, closing the menu and looking directly at you. “Anything that tastes good.”

Your throat dried slightly. Maybe you’re imagining things.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Meat.”

Silence.

“…Okay. I’ll just get ratatouille.”

“But that’s all vegetables.”

“Shut up, meathead.”

The waiter coughed. “How cooked would you like your steak, sir?”

Wonwoo was still looking at you.

“Make it medium rare. And make it two,” you smiled. “I’d like a piece of meat too.”

The waiter jolted and left immediately.

“How long have you been stealing?” you circled back.

He sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean to do that—well, that was until I met you.”

“M-me?”

“Your lunch.”

Oh.

“I don’t like takeaways. I used to live with my roommate, Mingyu. He cooked for both of us until I moved into my own apartment,” he said. “And I can’t cook for shit.”

“Can tell,” you replied smoothly. “Your personality is probably as shitty as your cooking.”

He glared.

You smiled.

“Watch that,” he warned. “I’m definitely putting that smart mouth to good use—”

“Shut up. Save it for later. I’m not riding that fake dick.”

“…”

Silence.

You took a sip of wine, scanning the dim lights of the restaurant. Fine dining. Expensive plates. His salary was probably double yours anyway.

“Here’s the deal,” you said. “Stop eating my lunch. That’s it.”

He considered. “Fine. I’ll pay for your groceries. How about that?”

“Nah.”

Wonwoo frowned, fingers lacing together. “Okay, I’m sorry. But I really don’t like the dripping coffee machine. And the cafeteria sucks. And I hate that the caterer keeps slipping her phone number onto my tray.”

“All I ate were ham and cream cheese bagels,” he continued. “Depressing, I know.”

You raised a brow, unimpressed. “Why not? For an attention whore like you, I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“She’s married. With five kids.”

“….”

Okay. Fair enough.

“Alright,” you sighed. “I’ll bite.”

His eyes lit up.

He almost reached across the table, close to your hand then thought better of it and grabbed the napkins instead.

“Can I go to your place after this?” he asked suddenly.

You nearly choked on your wine. “Excuse me? Aren’t we going too fast?”

“To inspect your goods,” he deadpanned. “Your fridge.”

Yeah.

He’s definitely messing with you.

You did let him come back to your studio apartment, after all the groceries were paid for by him, of course. In return, you taught him how to make the katsu sandwich he’d been annoyingly edging about all night.

And yes, it turns out he really doesn’t like seafood. Wonwoo said it upsets his stomach, and once was enough for him to swear it off forever.

You set the groceries aside just as your cat greeted you, weaving around your ankles while you washed your hands, Wonwoo hovering awkwardly behind you.

Your place was cozy. Very you, he thought.

“Who’s this little companion?” he asked, crouching down to pet your white Persian cat. “Got a name?” He glanced up at you, finally noticing the frilly apron you were wearing.

“Wonton,” you said, peeling onions as you passed him another apron, this one reading Kiss the Cook.

He slipped it over his head without complaint. “That’s funny. Do you have a food phase or something?”

Now that you thought about it… yeah. 

“Yeah. I got dumpling takeaway that night, and she was inside the box when she was still a kitten. So I named her Wonton.”

The rest of the time, you walked him through each step carefully.

“So,” he said casually, “how often do you pound the meat?”

Silence.

You looked up.

He looked back, utterly oblivious. “The fried chicken sandwich yesterday was delectable.”

“Not much,” you muttered, going back to chopping potatoes. “Other than salty food—do you like sweets?”

He hummed while dipping the meat into egg batter and breadcrumbs. “Not really to be exact. I had it during a business trip in Europe. I don’t remember what it’s called. Something like… quickie?”

Your knife froze mid-chop.

“…Quiche,” you corrected. “It’s called quiche, Wonwoo.”

His face lit up, nodding like he’d just learned a new word.

For a moment, you wondered if he was messing with you but the genuine reaction told you otherwise.

“Are you messing with me?”

He blinked. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t push it. It was pointless.

“Why can’t you cook?” you asked instead, lowering the coated meat into hot oil.

“Well, there’s this thing called ‘I just don’t,’” he said. “I once almost ate half-burnt scrambled eggs and decided never again.”

You scoffed. “It costs nothing to be kind with your words, you know.”

“Some days it costs me my fucking sanity, honey,” he shot back, eyes sharp.

Which would’ve been intimidating if he weren’t wearing that Kiss the Cook apron.

Your mom was right. There’s nothing romantic about cooking together. Move the fuck away.

“You know what?” you said. “Let’s split up to cover more ground. I’ll go left, and you go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he grinned. “Just don’t ogle me when I pound my meat. I’d know myself for the whole course of the meal.”

He’s so hot. If only he shut up.

“Calling yourself a meal when you’ve had an STD?” you said, setting the fried cutlet aside. “Okay, food poisoning.”

He frowned. “I’d have you know I’m very healthy and clean. So you’re safe.”

“No one said I’d fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly,” you replied. “But after we finish this, I’ll have my way with you later.”

“…..”

“So,” he said, scanning your apartment. “You live like this while working at a million-dollar company?”

“I live alone,” you shrugged, cutting the sandwich in half and handing it to him. “No reason for a big place. I do need a spacious kitchen, though.”

He nodded, biting into it. “Fair. What about a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have time for that.”

“It’s alright,” you added. “At least I get to rest on weekends. What about you? Hobbies?”

He hummed. “I dissociate. I play games. And lately, my bed is the only thing calling me.”

“Oh,” you said. “Then… hookups?”

He leaned closer, smirking. “Are you offering?”

“Hell no,” you said immediately. “I don’t have the energy.”

“For what?”

You gestured at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Half of your personality is just symptoms.”

“Your mom.”

“My mom passed away four years ago,” he said simply.

Well. That rhymed.

Silence stretched between you.

You swallowed. “…Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” he said, finishing his sandwich. “It’s been a while. I still miss her.”

Another quiet beat.

“So…” you said carefully, “wanna catch up on Bridgerton?”

...

That night, you both sat on the couch with a noticeable gap between you, a cushion clutched to your chest like a shield.

The room was dim, lit only by the TV. Surprisingly, he was fully invested in Bridgerton. What was supposed to be one episode turned into a full marathon.

For some reason, it felt intimate.

Jeon Wonwoo, your coworker. The man who stole your lunch for a week. Also, the cause of your suffering.

Insufferable. Infuriating. Hot as fuck.

It would be a lie to say you’d never found him attractive. Well, except for that foul mouth. Not that you were any better.

The problem with this show was the sex scenes.

You’d completely forgotten how many there were.

Every time one came on, you felt the urge to skip it but Wonwoo didn’t move. He watched with the same unreadable expression, completely composed like poker-faced.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking inside his head.

Another scene started.

Just great.

You were very aware of how you shifted slightly, how your fingers tightened around the cushion, how your knees pressed together. The small breath you exhaled without meaning to.

The couch shifted.

He turned his head toward you.

He definitely noticed and yet, he said nothing. That somehow made it worse.

Because he remembered the way you talked to him.

The insults. The degradation. The way you never backed down.

Fuck.

Maybe that’s what did it.

Maybe Jeon Wonwoo was turned on by the way you spoke to him like you weren’t afraid.

“Do you want to make out and make noises?” he asked suddenly, looking at you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked.

For a moment, your brain short-circuited.

Then you thought: when else are you going to get the chance to make out with a disgustingly attractive man like this?

Exactly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you muttered, dropping the cushion before swinging a leg over his lap.

“Hell yeah,” he breathed.

His hands found your hips instantly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It was messy. Almost clumsy at first, teeth knocking, breaths uneven but it quickly deepened. His mouth moved slowly against yours, deliberate now. One hand slid up to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, holding you there.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth without meaning to.

Your body pressed closer.

He let out a low groan, restrained but it vibrated against your lips. You could feel his hardness pressed against yours, and it’s big.

When his tongue brushed yours, it wasn’t rushed. It was slow and intentional. Like he was testing how much you’d let him have.

You were already giving too much.

Time blurred.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to breathe. A thin string of saliva caught in the dim light before breaking.

He looked up at you, and whatever was in his eyes now wasn’t smugness.

It was hunger.

Like he hadn’t had enough.

His head leaned closer until the tip of his nose brushed yours as he murmured, “…I want you,” he breathed. “Please. I need to have you tonight.”

Your heart pounded at the sound of his voice. The way his ragged breath fanned against your lips.

His hand wandered, softly caressing your back before sliding lower to grip your ass, making you jump slightly.

He grinned at your reaction. “Is that a yes?” he chuckled lowly, squeezing more firmly this time, drawing a gasp from you as your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders.

“Cute,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your lips before looking up at you again. “…I need that pretty mouth of yours working now, since you’ve been such a smartass with me the whole time.”

Something about his piercing gaze made the heat pool low in your stomach. God, his commanding voice alone was enough to make you melt like chocolate left out too long under the sun.

You’re not a masochist, of course.

His thumb traced slowly over your lips before pressing gently, parting them as he slid the pad of his thumb just inside. His voice dropped.

“Get on your knees. Now.”

Did you listen? Hell yeah.

“Normally, I wouldn’t get on my knees for a man, but here I am,” you muttered as you moved between his thighs, while he spread his legs slightly, working at his belt and the sleek pants he’d worn earlier to dinner.

“I’m flattered to be the first man,” he chuckled. You could see the damp, slight pre-cum stain against his boxer. Then pulling the underwear down to reveal his shaft.

Giving a few pumps as he strokes his dick, groaning as his head goes over the couch. “Fuck, now go make use of that pretty mouth, baby.”

You breathe out, seeing that shafts make you hesitate a bit. Okay, that was a real dick; you take that back for insulting and calling his stupid dick fake.

Slowly wrapping your delicate hands around his shaft, you glance up to see his head thrown over the couch as you give a kiss on the tip of his cockhead.

His breath hitched as he watched you kneel between his legs, those soft  eyes looking up at him with a mix of nervousness and determination. The sight alone made his cock throb harder in your gentle grip.

"Fuck..." he breathed out, his head tilting back against the couch cushion as he felt your lips brush against his sensitive tip.

His fingers instinctively tangled in your long wavy brown hair, not pulling but just... holding on. Grounding himself. The way your hands wrapped around his shaft made him stroke himself slower, more deliberately, letting you set the pace.

"You're so fucking pretty like this," he murmured, his voice rough and low as he watched your every move. "But you know what... I don't want your hands right now."

He gently guided your head down, his cock pressing against your lips as he guided you to take him in. Not all at once, he didn't want to make you gag or feel uncomfortable. Just... enough to feel you.

"Mmm... that's it," he groaned softly, his other hand moving to cup the back of your head possessively. "Use that pretty mouth of yours now. I want to hear from you."

His hips gave a subtle thrust, not demanding but encouraging. His eyes stayed locked on you, watching the way your lips stretched around him, the wet sounds filling the room.

"Christ... you're incredible," he breathed, his thumb stroking along your jawline tenderly despite the rough situation.

You stiffen slightly, feeling his whole length around your mouth. Slowly making your jaw work as you bobbed your head, sucking him good.

He stopped you mid-blowjob, pulling you up by your waist with surprising strength. The way you were panting, lips swollen from worshipping his cock, made him nearly lose control entirely.

"Fuck... you look so good like this," he growled, his voice strained as he guided you toward the bed.

Setting you down gently on the mattress, he immediately followed, positioning himself between your thighs. His hands pushed your skirt up slowly, deliberately, savoring how exposed you were for him.

"Shit…" he breathed, his eyes darkening as he stared at your glistening core. "So fucking wet for me already."

Without hesitation, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately seeking out your clit. The taste of you made him groan against your sensitive flesh.

"Mmm... fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate circles. "Let me eat you properly before I take you."

His fingers gripped your thighs gently but firmly, spreading you wider as he feasted on you with renewed focus, determined to make you come on his tongue first.

You gasped sharply, your palm flying to your mouth, feeling his mouth dive in like a starved man. He knows exactly what you need to push you over the edge. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. 

He laughs against your core, feeling your fingers tangle in his hair. It made him groan with satisfaction. The way your body trembled beneath his mouth, your gasps growing louder.

It was fucking intoxicating.

He continues to lap on your cunt, wanting you to come undone by his tongue. He could feel you’re coming close as he works closer and closer to the edge. His fingers thrust in and out of you, over and over again.

“Fuck— you’re so close already,” he murmured against your soaked folds, his tongue working faster now. “Let go baby, let me taste it.”

You could feel your orgasm coming closer as he kept pumping into you. When you finally came, his fingers still pumping inside you, he felt your walls clench around him rhythmically. The sight of you completely undone, head thrown back as pleasure washed over you— it made him nearly lose control too.

You swore you almost saw stars and later, he was going to make you see the entire fucking galaxy once he was inside you.

“God, you look so beautiful like this,” he breathed, slowly pulling his fingers out of you with a soft, wet sound. “So fucking beautiful when you let go.”

You gave him a weak tap, blinking as you tried to catch your breath. God, you hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Or maybe no one had ever made you feel this good.

“Hold up—” you breathed meekly. “Let me… catch my… fucking hell…”

It was embarrassing to let him see you like this. Kind of pathetic, honestly, to get so worked up just from being eaten out.

Wonwoo chuckled, settling himself between your thighs as he looked down at you, almost menacingly. “Take your time, sweet pea. I’m not done with you yet.”

Then, surprisingly, he said something reasonable. “Just to make sure—give me a safe word.”

You blinked, finally propping yourself up on your elbows against the mattress as you considered it.

“Strawberry,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Make it shorter. Do you think you can say that before I pound you like dough?”

You huffed. “Cherry, then.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned in to kiss you again but stopped midway. “I don’t have condoms, though…”

And you weren’t on pills. You couldn’t blame him. No one had expected this to happen.

You checked the drawer beside your bed. It had probably been sitting there for two years, back when you never expected there’d be a man in your life again.

When you handed it to him, he bristled, letting out a laugh and flashing a cocky grin. “This isn’t my size, sugarplum. It’s alright—I’ll pull out immediately,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple then running his hands along your curves possessively.

He sheathed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, yet something raw, almost vulnerable flickered across his expression.

“I’m clean,” he murmured, his voice more serious now. “And I’ve never done this without protection before. So… yeah.” His gaze softened just slightly. “I’m trusting you, too.”

You let out a small whimper, feeling himself positioned at your entrance, his cock pressing against your wet heat. His thumbs framed your face, cradling it gently.

“Tell me you want this,” he said softly, eyes searching yours. “Tell me you want me inside you bare.” His hips gave a small thrust, just teasing waiting for your answer.

Almost cussing out at him for purposely made you feel this way, you breathe out almost pleadingly despite your bite. “...you asshole, stop playing—” you sharply inhaled when he thrusted his cock inside you.

He felt you gasp as he pushed inside, his cock stretching you open slowly. 

Fucking hell.

The way you clenched around him immediately made him grit his teeth, might as well come inside you at this point.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, his hands moving to grip your hips. “So tight…fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He didn’t slam in, he took his time, letting you adjust to him. The way your walls squeezed him rhythmically was almost too much, but he forced himself to stay controlled.

And you—you never felt so fucking amazing right now. You think you might ascend to heaven. Eyes rolling over with your grip tightens on the sheets.

“Still with me, sweet pea?” he asked, voice strained as he hilted himself completely inside you.

You nodded slowly at him, murmured softly, “...yeah…you can move faster now.”

His fingers dug into your skin slightly, not quite bruising but definitely holding on tight. Breath hitched when you finally gave him permission, that single nod making his control slip dangerously. The way your walls were already clenching around him was driving him insane.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed out, hips already starting to move. He pulled back slowly, feeling every inch of you squeeze around him then thrust forward with more purpose. The wet sounds of your tangled bodies filled the room.

Your poor cat, Wonton, is already scurrying away somewhere.

He could feel your body trembling beneath him, and it made something possessive ignite in him. He wanted every gasp, every moan and every shudder of pleasure entirely for himself.

His thrusts became faster, more desperate as his breath came in harsh pants against your neck. “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded softly, one hand moving to cup your chin, fracking you to look at him. "Tell me when you’re close.”

His cock throbbed inside you, pre-cum leaking out but he was determined to make this last. To make you feel as good as you made him feel earlier with that perfect, needy mouth.

“You’re killing me,” he admitted breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours. “But I’m not pulling out until I see you completely destroyed…”

...on my cock.” you heard him finished, his voice thick with need.

God, you can’t even talk properly with him. Did he just fucked you this good?

His hips snapped against yours, making you gasp. The change in rhythm was almost punishing— harder, faster and deeper. Each thrust he gave, sent pleasure spiraling through your waves, making your toes curl and your visions blur.

“Fuck…fuck— Wonwoo! You cried out, back arching off the bed slightly as he drove into you relentlessly.

One of his hands moved from your hip to your hair, fisting it rough;y and tilting your head back. His lips crashed against yours in a desperate, messy kiss that tasted like desperation and need.

“Say my name while I fuck you.” He demanded between kisses, his other hand moving to your throat, just barely pressing, not choking but claiming.

“Wonwoo!” you sobbed into the kiss, voice breaking.

It was all too much. His mouth on yours, hands on you and the way he was fucking you like he wanted to imprint himself on your very soul. Your orgasm built faster than you could handle, climbing higher and higher until you were breathless and dizzy.

“I’m—oh god— I’m—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your inner walls clamping down around him.

He felt you come, your body shaking and clenching around his cock, and it was his undoing. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside then immediately pulled out as he promised. His remains spilled on your stomach, giving a few last pumps as he stays there.

“Fuck… fuck…” he breathed against your neck, his body collapsing onto yours as aftershocks rippled through both of you.

You stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled, your body slowly growing heavy with exhaustion.

But goddamn. That was the best sex you’d ever had.

(You’d only had, like, two back in school, but whatever.)

Just when you thought he was finished, he lifted his head and looked down at you before finally shrugging off the dress shirt that had been hanging open. He pulled it over his broad shoulders, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the lean muscle beneath.

God, you silently thanked the heavens for giving you an asshole that looked like him.

Grinning cockily, he hovered over you, his voice dropping into a husky murmur. “Oh, I’m not done yet, honeybun. That was just the appetizer. We still have the full course and dessert.”

Okay, maybe you should’ve bought the condoms and pills when you were grocery shopping with him.

“Now strip bare before I devour you for real.” He smacked your ass and squeezed, making you yelp.

The rest was history.

The next morning. Thank heavens it was Saturday. You would not have survived this if it were Monday and a workweek.

You fumbled beneath the comforter, still half-asleep. Then it hit you.

You’d been dicked down by the most insufferable, food-thieving man alive.

Slowly, you sat up, immediately feeling the soreness between your thighs.

Thanks a lot to that bastard for bottoming you out so good.

And you loved every single second of it.

Noticing the empty space beside you, your gaze drifted across the room—only to find him in nothing but his boxers, crouched beside Wonton, your cat. It looked like he’d already fed her.

Wow.

The sight of him watching your cat eat was almost… innocent.

Was that really the same person who pounded you like a beast last night?

Whatever.

You looked down and realized you were wearing his dress shirt. He probably cleaned you up before you passed out.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the kitchen. You were starving, might as well whip something up.

He noticed you rummaging through the fridge and followed after you.

“Morning,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist as you worked at the counter. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Me,” you joked.

He immediately groped your chest, making you yelp as you slapped his hands away.

He didn’t look sorry at all. “You said it. I’m just taking what I want,” he grinned against your ear, pressing a soft kiss there.

“Let’s get married,” he suddenly said. “I need you for a lifetime.”

You hummed thoughtfully while whisking the pancake batter. “For what? The food or the sex?”

“Both,” he confirmed easily. “I already paid for the groceries. I’m basically your wallet at this point. Marry me and you get both—my dick and my money.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

His arms tightened around you as he added, “Then I can finally fuck you without using those damn condoms and pills.”

That made you turn to look at him, eyebrow raised as he flashed that stupidly annoying grin.

“Was that a threat?”

“A promise,” he corrected. “We’d make a great pear. And I wouldn’t mind putting a few little peanuts in you.”

He nuzzled your nape like an oversized cat.

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” he said smoothly. “I’m nuts for you, sweetie pie.”

Since that day, you kept seeing Wonwoo during lunch breaks at work.

With a price, of course. The lunch arrangement.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but notice the change in his personality. Well… he’d been a lot nicer lately.

And it scared the shit out of you.

You’d rather have him insufferable as always, wearing that stupid cocky grin.

Okay, maybe not. That was too annoying. You weren’t sure you could restrain your fist from connecting with his majestic face.

“Have you been sitting in all that sugar you bake with? Because you’ve got a sweet butt,” Wonwoo suddenly said.

A loud crash echoed through the kitchen as you dropped the baking tray in your hands, staring at him in horror.

Noticing your mortified expression, he took a step back. “Sorry. Too forward?”

He’d been crashing at your place again, insisting on driving you home as an excuse to spend more time together.

“Have you been laying in sugar, sweetheart?” he tried again. “Because you’re looking pretty sweet. Is that better?” he asked, almost apologetically.

You honestly didn’t know what to say, setting the meatloaf aside.

“I mean…” you started slowly, “…you always smack my ass whenever you get the chance, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it when I’m about to get into the passenger seat.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I think all of you are sweet, really.” Then he added, “I can tell your parents were bakers—they’d have to be to make a cutie pie like you.”

You blinked, finally turning to look at him. “…Well, my mom was a baker. And my brother owns a café, so yeah. Technically.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, momentarily dropping the act. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“You never asked,” you replied simply, waving him off. “By the way, what’s with all these cheesy pick-up lines? Where did you even learn them?”

Completely ignoring your question, he continued, “Are you bread? Because you’re the loaf of my life.”

Your lips twitched. “Okay, now you’re up to something. Did you lose a bet?”

“I think I’ve got cavities, because you’re too sweet.”

You chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter in your pink frilly apron. “If you’re trying to seduce me into baking cookies, you could’ve just asked.”

“I don’t know about cookies,” he shot back smoothly, “but you and I would bake a great couple.”

Your smile widened as you pushed off the counter and slowly walked toward him. “Oh? Is that what you think?”

He audibly gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you approach.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he continued weakly. “Because you’re hot.”

You let out a soft giggle, stopping in front of him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know if I’m scared of you or attracted to you.”

His hands naturally found your waist. “Marry me, please. Let me be your husband. I’ll take care of you… and our little peanut. Soon.” He nuzzled into your neck.

Smiling, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, Won,” you murmured, “if you want something sweet, there’s plenty of sugar right here.”

You tapped your lips playfully. He didn’t hesitate before pressing his mouth to yours.

A moment later, you both pulled back, laughing and giggling like idiots, foreheads resting against each other.

“By the way,” you asked softly, “where did you even learn those pick-up lines?”

He paused, thinking for a second.

“Jeonghan,” he said simply.

Ah.

Of course.

You never liked him. Same department as Wonwoo…just more obnoxious.

He definitely put him up to this on purpose.

One thing you actually learned from your mother's advice that surprisingly worked was that the fastest way into a man’s heart was through his stomach.

Turns out, he stopped stealing your food. He found something sweeter to keep instead.

FIN.

A/N: once again, thanks a lot for staying until the end, apples!! finally we've come to the end. if you're interested in more of my fics, feel free to check my page and my masterlist, if any of you guys are interested include in my taglist, feel free to sign in the form link.

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Lee Jihoon was a simple man and wasn’t someone who wanted too much out of life. He just wanted to live his life quietly and comfortably. He didn’t need all the things capitalism told society they needed.

He didn’t need the latest car model, happily driving around in a previously owned model. He didn’t need a large home with more rooms than people living there, he was content with his two bedroom home that was big enough for him. His clothes weren’t fancy luxury brands, with a lot of it thrifted and second hand. As long as they were comfortable and fit well, he was happy.

He had some of the best friends a man could ask for, and a cat that loved him.

If only everything in his life was simple.

You were the clerk at his favorite little corner shop, working nearly every time he came in, always greeting customers with a bright smile and a happy ‘hello’.  Now, he would be lying if he didn’t think you were one of the prettiest people he had ever seen, or that your smile didn’t brighten his day. He would definitely be lying if it didn’t settle in his chest in a way that wasn’t so simple.

He had to convince himself that he wasn’t special compared to the next customer to enter the small shop, nor was he the only one who would get that cute smile and greeting. He wasn’t the only one who would stay back after their purchases to chat with you, everyone would. You treated everyone like an old friend, always remembering little things about each person that came to your till.

“How’s your wife doing? I do hope you are helping with the baby and taking him when she needs to rest.” You playfully scold Chan when he would come in for things for his wife and newborn son. “If you need anything though, let me know. I can always come by on one of my days off with dinner and watch him while you two have some time to yourselves.”

“Did the recipe work? I know she had to of loved it.” You giggled with Seungcheol after you’d given him one of your favorite recipes to help impress his girlfriend, only to learn he burnt it and they ordered pizza instead. “Oh well, maybe next time.”

“Have I told you that you have the coolest robot in the entire world? I’m super jealous that it can shoot lasers.” You humored a little girl who would be clinging to a little robot action figure whenever she was in, before chatting her mother about their dinner plans.

So, when you would ask about his cat, how his music is going, or bring up something he mentioned in passing Jihoon had to remind himself that you were only doing it to be friendly. You were like this with everyone, and he was no different than the next person. You were simply just doing your job.

Except there were times that did make him wonder. There was a shine to your eyes when he would walk in, sometimes your greeting would be brighter, and your smile would sometimes soften to a shyer one when he would stay back to talk to you. While your laugh would be a little louder when he would make a joke, or you would take to chewing your bottom lip more.

Making you even prettier than you already were.

But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t any more special than the next person to come to her counter. It was probably simpler that way. Only he didn’t see the way your eyes would follow him when he would walk in or see the way your hand balled up into a fist when he would leave.

Wishing you had said something more and make your interest known.

Every weekend when spring starts the center of town would be filled with vendor booths, crowds of people from surrounding towns and would go until the end of summer. Selling different things like candles, candies, baked goods, trinkets, clothes, fruit and vegetables that were in season. Other booths would sell hot foods and cool drinks for people to enjoy as they browse, with some offering homemade ice cream when the days got hot.

It wasn’t the type of thing that Jihoon would usually go to, finding it was always too crowded and most the items being sold would just add clutter to one’s home, but he did find some of the food to be pretty decent. So, him being there on a Saturday wasn’t by his own choice, but his friend Wonwoo who was being dragged by his wife.

She had insisted that her husband needed to get out of the house more, and somehow this also meant that Jihoon did too.

Which he wouldn’t have exactly minded, had they not disappeared into the crowd as soon as they got there, leaving him to browse the booths alone. Hands in his jeans pocket, avoiding eye contact with the vendors as he browsed; not wanting to give them a chance to talk to him or attempt to sell him anything. Every so often he would catch sight of Wonwoo and his wife Adri, but they would be gone just as quickly as he would see them.

Then he saw you.

You were standing at one of the florist stands, talking and laughing with the elderly woman running the booth with your gaze on the beautiful flowers that were being sold. Jihoon found himself rooted to the spot, watching the way your face would light up from your smile and how your laughter would float to him like a melody only he ever wanted to hear.

You must’ve felt his gaze since your laughter faded as you looked his way, but your smile still played over your pretty lips as your eyes met. Giving a quick goodbye to the vendor, you adjusted the pink knitted tote on your shoulder as you made your way toward him.

Jihoon had to be mad to think that your smile got wider and there was a shine of excitement in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Jihoon, right?” You asked once closer, and he nodded with the corner of his lips upturning when you bounced with excitement. He then responded with your own name and braced himself for the chance he had gotten it wrong (that would be so embarrassing), and you nodded with the same enthusiasm. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“It’s nice to see you as well.” The words came out a little higher than he would’ve liked, having to cough to clear his throat. Of course, his voice would crack when talking to you, but you didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Have you tried Mrs. Min’s lemon bars yet?” You didn’t miss a beat with your question, taking Jihoon a bit by surprise.

It was well known that the food in the market was decent, some of the best in fact, and one of the biggest reasons many would show up every weekend. Hell, most his friends would willingly get up during the weekend just to go eat,  and he had even tried many of the different dishes over the years himself, but not everything.

Like Mrs. Min’s lemon bars.

“I have not.” When he said those words, you let out a gasp before hopping (that’s the only way he could describe it) next to him. You hooked your arms around his, with your hand resting over his plaid covered bicep, tilting your head to look up at him.

It was then he realized you were shorter with him, and it somehow endeared you to him more.

“Then you have not lived yet.” The giggle that left you sounded so sweet to him, probably sweeter than the lemon bars that you were leading him to, but he was still processing you touching him.

You didn’t need to pull at him to follow you, finding himself easily falling into step with your little skips, filling the air with chatter as you walked. Telling him stories that eventually blended in with each other then took different directions to the point he barely was able to keep up. He didn’t seem to mind though.

He liked the sound of your voice and didn’t want to stop hearing it by interrupting with questions so he wouldn’t be so lost in your chatter. He rather take not knowing then not hear you.

“Here we are!” You said with excitement, the story you were telling forgotten now that you were standing at the pastry booth. Mrs. Min’s Breads and Pastries, said the sign. You then call out to the woman running the booth; a friend of yours. “Ruby! Could I get two of your famous lemon bars? Oh! And those orange bars too!” You then turned to Jihoon, “They are just like lemon bars, but even better cause they’re made with oranges.”

“I haven’t even tried the lemon bars yet.” Jihoon pointed out, with a soft chuckle, taking in how cute you were. Waiting impatiently for the pastries to be picked out and handed to you.

“I know, but what the hell right? Why not try both?” You answer, already handing over a couple of wadded bills, paying before Jihoon had the chance to offer. Taking the container that had the treats in it, you turned toward him suddenly with your smile even wider and body buzzing with excitement.

Jihoon might have just fallen in love with you.

Instead of grasping his arm, you reached out to take his hand to lead him to a grassy patch right behind the booth. Jihoon’s eyes stayed on your interlocked hands, not registering anything you had said to him until you had let go to sit. Gazing at his hand, he could still feel the weight of yours against it, slow to curl it into a fist now that you were no longer holding it.

He wanted to take your hand again, feel your smooth palm against his again. It made him wonder if it would be the same if you hugged him. Would he still feel the weight of your arms around his neck? Would your body imprint against his after the embrace? Those thoughts were quick to lead him to wonder if he was to kiss you, would he still feel your lips against his? Would they be as soft as they looked?

“Jihoon?” Your voice filtered through his clouded thoughts, your head tilted in curiosity. “Are you going to sit? Should we find a bench instead?”

It was then he realized that he was still standing while you were now sitting and was using your bag as a table for the container and the sweet treats inside it. The very ones that you were excited for him to try and brought him to this moment.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, awkwardly sitting next to you on the grass, ignoring that it was still slightly damp from the morning dew. You didn’t seem to notice or care, so why should he? “So these are the lemon and orange bars?”

“Yes, and they are so good.” You lift the container lid to show him the lemon and orange curds resting on what looked like a pie crust type and topped with powdered sugar. The sweet smell of lemons and oranges met his nose, and he glanced up toward you. “Try the lemon first.”

He tentatively takes one of the yellow squares while you took the other, but you were too focused on watching his reaction; causing you to miss your mouth and hit your cheek instead. Jihoon couldn’t stop himself from laughing at your antics, thinking you were even cuter than he already did. Especially when you glanced at him to see if he had caught your blunder, not realizing that there was a little lemon left on your cheek.

Then he did something that neither of you expected. He reached over and swiped it away with his thumb before slipping it into his mouth, tasting the balance between the sweet and tartness. It left you sitting there stunned, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and completely speechless by the action. Heat started to burn at your cheeks, and there was a shine to your eyes.

Different from the usual one he would see, this one was a little darker as if the simple action did something more to you. One that Jihoon was hoping he wasn’t misreading, making his gaze drop to your lips. Parted slightly from his action; soft, plush, and inviting. He wanted to kiss away the surprised expression until you were giggling and smiling again.

Maybe one day he would be able to.

“You okay?” His question brought you back from your daze, with it being him to tilt his head in curiosity. Except that smile was more of a smirk now, attempting to hold onto this sudden boldness that was coursing through him.

“Uh, yeah…I just…” You break away from his gaze to look down at the lemon bar in your hands, your bottom now trapped between your teeth. You cast a glance back up to him, not expecting his focus to be on you; with a dark strand of hair falling over his brown. Just him sitting there looking at you like this made you struggle with your words. “Truth is… I...” You look like you were going to say something, or trying to get the courage to, before taking a slow deep breath. Looking at him again, you were now wearing a shy smile, “Let’s eat.”

Jihoon was a little disappointed when you changed the subject and possibly would have worried that he was overstepping had it not been for the way you were looking at him. Or how they were looking at his lips then back to his eyes. While he would be the first to admit that he not always the best at knowing if someone was interested in him, there was no mistaking that you had some interest in him.

Taking a bite of the treat, he took his time chewing it. Tasting the familiar lemon that he swiped off your cheek, now mixed with the crust and the powdered sugar. It was good, but he was more interested in your reaction, and the way your eyes lit up. Waiting for his reaction and/or opinion on it.

Swallowing, he took another bite before licking his lips of the powdered sugar and crumbs.

“Well?” You asked, and he nodded.

“It’s good.” He kept his response simple, finishing what was left in his hand. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the way your face then lit up, a happy smile stretching over your lips and back was that little bounce you had to you.

“Isn’t it? Wait until you try the orange one. It will change your life.” You hadn’t even taken a bite of yours yet, but you were already to grab the orange bar for him. This made him chuckle and shake his head.

“How about you finish the one in your hand, and then we can enjoy the orange ones together?” He suggested, feeling himself grow more comfortable with you by the second. How did he end up getting so lucky you were willing to spend your Saturday with him?

“Oh, okay…” Your words seemed to come out almost breathless, sucking in your bottom lip before releasing it and taking a bite of the bar in your hand. Jihoon couldn’t tear his gaze from your lips, now coated with powdered sugar before you tried to lick it all away.

Just that small action made his heart quicken and his breath catch. It made him think of how much sweeter this treat would taste on your lips, even better on your tongue. Shaking his head, he needed to get these thoughts out of his head, feeling borderline delusional almost.

“I seriously love these,” You told him, with it helping shake the thought of kissing you and brought his focus back to you sitting in front of him. You had taken the last bite of your lemon bar, looking at him as you did. Powdered sugar still all over your face, despite your attempts to lick it all away, his smile changing to a slight amused one. Only it made you blink in confusion, “Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re…” Jihoon let out a soft chuckle, motioning around his mouth as he said this, “You’re covered in powdered sugar.”

“Oh, shit, really?” You turned toward your bag to pull something before turning back with a playful smile now on your lips, before tapping them, “I can actually say the same thing for you.”

Jihoon’s hand flew up to his own mouth, wiping away the sugar that had collected at the corner of his lips, the blush that had subsided back with a vengeance. You giggled before reaching for his hand, cleaning the clumped up powder with a small blue handkerchief.

You didn’t let go right away, allowing him a better chance to feel how soft your hands were against his rougher ones, holding onto him longer than you probably should have but neither of you seem to care. When you finally let go, the ghost of your hand still lingered on his while you sat the handkerchief down and grabbed the remaining two bars.

“Now it is time to finally come to life.” You tease, handing over the bar, once more taking your time to move your hand away.

“I think I already did,” He said softly, not talking about the bars, and this time you wouldn’t look at him, paying attention to the orange treat in your hands. Together the two of you took a bite, and Jihoon couldn’t help but agree with you. The lemon bar was good, though he probably only liked it because you were there, but this one was actually delicious. “Wow.”

“Right?! Life changing.” You sigh happily, chewing happily at the pastry. “Do you come to these things often?”

“No, actually.” Jihoon answered honestly, already finishing the bar and you handed him the handkerchief to wipe away the sugar. “I typically just stay home, and if I need anything, I can just go by the corner shop.” He looks around the crowd of people to see if he could catch a glimpse of Wonwoo and Adri, but no luck. “My friend Wonwoo and his wife dragged me along today.”

“Oh, so here against your will I take it?” You ask, taking your time eating as you watched him with a curious gaze. He nodded. “Well, I don’t know how you feel about it, but I am happy that you were forced to come. I mean, how else will you try these amazing treats?”

“Me too,” He answered with a laugh, and the two of you slipped into a light conversation. With you asking him random questions about himself, which he answered, and you then answered his questions.

The fruit bars now long gone, but neither of you moved from your place in the grass. Not caring about the people walking by you, or the curious glances of people that knew you both. Lee Jihoon and you, sitting together, with you talking animatedly to him, laughing together, and he looked at you like you hung the sky.

“I should probably see where these two are.” Jihoon said at one point, pulling his phone out of his pocket to call Wonwoo. Honestly, he had almost completely forgotten that he had lost his friend in the crowd hours earlier, lost in talking with you. Hitting the call button on his friend’s contact, he held the phone to his ear as it rang.

Wonwoo answered after the first couple of rings.

“Hey, where you guys at?” As he listened to his friend’s response, Jihoon’s eyes stayed on you while you closed up the container that once held the bars. You were doing your best to not give away that you were listening in or hiding the look of disappointment on your face.

You were about to say your goodbyes and go your separate ways. Back to normal life, back to him just being a patron of the shop you work at, and back to you wishing you could say more. Hoping he would say more.

Fate can be a funny thing though. Since Wonwoo and Adri had left nearly an hour earlier and didn’t tell him.

“What you mean you two left?” Jihoon’s voice change caused you to look at him, watching the smile he was wearing turn to a deep frown. “I came with you guys. Why didn’t you call me, or come find me?”

“Sorry, Adri was getting a headache so I took her home so she can lay down. I was going to call you but…” Jihoon cut him off by an annoyed tsk, which he was sure was making his friend feel guilty. “Do you want me to come get you?”

“Jihoon.” You said softly, leaning toward him, stopping him from agreeing for his friend to come pick him up. He raised a brow at you, and you gave him a hopeful smile, “I can take you home or back to your car… Wonwoo doesn’t have to come all the way back to get you.”

“You sure?” He asked, proud of himself that he is keeping as calm as he was outwardly, because inside he felt like he was freaking out. He didn’t want to inconvenience you, even if you offered, but he also wasn’t exactly wanting to leave you yet.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” He was suddenly aware of how close you two actually were and that you were touching his arm. Your touch barely felt under the layers of clothes, but he could still feel the warmth coming from it.

“You know what, don’t worry about it.” Jihoon said into the phone after a minute, witnessing before his eyes as you lit up in a way that he hadn’t seen before. Hanging up with his friend, he couldn’t help but say something. “You seem excited to take me home.”

“What can I say?” Giving him a wink, you stood to brush the dirt off the back of your jeans before offering him your hand. Which he took and you helped him stand, and with your bottom lip between your lip you add. “I’m not ready to stop hanging out just yet.”

If you were able to see inside Jihoon’s chest, you would be able to see how quick his heart was beating and that his lungs were almost robbed of breath. There was no mistaken the way you were looking at him, eyes filled with adoration and how you were chewing your bottom lip, that you were interested in him. Interested in spending more time with him.

And it was not lost on either of you that you were still holding onto each other’s hands.

“Good, because I’m not either.”

It was well past one when you left the market together, with you talking animatedly as you lead him to your car. Your palm pressed against his clammy one, but you didn’t care so neither did he. Jihoon had left his car at Wonwoo’s, since he had rode with the couple that morning, and it surprised him when you told him you knew exactly where they lived.

“I know Adri through Ruby.” You told him when he went to question you, grabbing and handing over a large CD binder from behind you before buckling in. The bright blue binder heavy in his hands, “We’re taking the long way there though, so pick some tunes.”

“You still use CDs?” Jihoon asked, looking through the pages full of CDs, impressed that you still used them. So many, like him, had switched to playing music through an app on their phone or programmed into their car.

“It’s either that or the radio.” You tell him, “And I don’t feel the need to have some fancy Bluetooth set up in my car. Besides there is still something special about listening through a CD instead of through some app. Be sure to buckle up.”

Jihoon let out a laugh, doing as you told him, buckling in and choosing a CD from one of the pages. A Bruno Mars album. You pull off as the music started to play, and he turned it down so that you didn’t have to yell over it to be heard.

You weren’t lying when you said you were going to take the long way back to the couple’s home, taking as many back streets as possible. Conversations continued naturally like it had at the market, and of course you ended up rambling. Though this time you managed to keep it to three different stories that somehow intertwined, but he didn’t mind as long as he got to hear your voice and laugh more.

The afternoon sun shined bright through the car window, making you attempt the drop the visor and slip on the sunglasses that fell down; especially since the visor did nothing to help shield you from the rays. Leaving you grumbling between your responses in the conversation.

When you finally got to your destination, Jihoon didn’t make any motion to get out of the car. He stayed there so you could finish your story about when your cat got stuck in your ceiling.

“I had to call my brother, and he’s allergic to cats so it took so much convincing.” You sigh, dropping your head back against the headrest then looked his direction. Realizing that you may have taken over most the airtime in the car ride. “Sorry, I am rambling again.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind it.” He answered, waving off your concern before flashing you a grin. “Means I don’t have to as much.”

“I do it a lot when I’m nervous, but something tells me that if I can shut up long enough, you’d be a chatter box.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Jihoon asked you, watching with mild amusement as you realized what you had just said.

“Oh… uh… yeah, a little.” You stuttered out, looking down at your steering wheel before licking you lips. “I…” You let out a laugh, nervous but sweet sounding, “I…I kind of have a bit of a crush on you…”

“You do?” Turning your gaze toward him, you nodded which in turned made him laugh. “What you know…” Both of you suddenly became aware that you were now leaning toward each other. “I do too.”

A squeak left you before Jihoon finally closed the remaining distance to kiss you. It was brief, testing, but the soft pressure of your lips felt like heaven and the soft sigh that left you made him want to kiss you again.

“Wow…” Your voice was breathless, lightly brushing your fingers against you bottom lip, sitting back in your seat.

“I should get going…” Jihoon finally spoke after a moment, catching the way your nod was small and a little disappointing. He didn’t want to end this either, but if he didn’t get out of this car, he may never leave your side again. “Would you like to have dinner with me? Tomorrow night sound good?”

“I close the shop, but I can come by after if you don’t mind a late night dinner.” There was hopefulness in your eyes when you offered this but quickly blurted out. “Unless another night works better.”

“No, we can do a late dinner. My place?” You started to nod your head quickly in excitement, and it made him laugh at how cute you were being. Dropping his gaze to your lips, Jihoon had to hold himself back from diving in for another kiss. Part of him confident that this won’t be the last time he got to kiss them.

You exchange numbers, before he finally slipped out of the car after bidding you goodbye for now. His heart racing as he watched you pulled out of your parking spot, with a small wave and a smile that felt even better than the one you would give to anyone else.

This smile. It was just for Jihoon.

You were vibrating when you got back to your place, unable to contain the excitement or the cloud nine feeling that was coursing through you. The entire day felt like a dream but the gentle pressure of Jihoon’s lips lingering on yours was proof that it very much was real.

And now you were going to go on a date with him.

You barely were inside the small apartment before you were pulling out your phone to make a phone call. After a few rings, the person on the other end picked up.

“About time!” Adri’s voice filtered through the speaker. “I see that the plan worked?”

“It did! We’re having dinner tomorrow night.” You squeal into the phone, dropping back down onto your sofa and kicked your feet in excitement. “Adri, he’s so amazing… I didn’t want today to end, I didn’t want to leave him. I want to kiss him again.”

“Ugh, you are going to be even more insufferable about him now.” Her faux disgust made the two of you burst out into giggles.

Thank you for reading! I do hope you enjoyed this fic! I am not used to writing pure fluff so, but I did have fun writing this!

As always Reblogs, and comments are appreciated! It doesn't just let my fic reach more people, it also is great to know I am doing well!

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