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eastasianfeelings · 5 years

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the way you look at him instead of me: Wonho

— based on Monsta X as jealous boyfriends

Summary: You’re a female songwriter-producer who's working with Wonho again after a long time. You still feel an attraction to him, and as his jealousy demonstrates, so does Wonho.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: jealousy, a bit of angst, making out

“For the last few songs I wrote, I worked with PD Wooyeong, PD Taehyun and PD Mino. I wanted to get a different feel for this song, so I’m really looking forward to collaborating on this one with you, Y/N-noona.”

Cue Wonho’s bunny smile.

You do your best to smile back, but it’s a bit hard. He’s been in your studio for only five minutes and already you’ve gotten a clear sense of how many male producers have gotten to work with Monsta X. You recognize almost all the names; you know that Mino, for example, got his first songwriting credit on a KNK B-side track just two months ago. And now he’s already working with Monsta X’s company?

You’re one of the few female producers in the business of churning out K-pop hits, and while South Korea might be a relatively advanced country technologically, gender bias still has a firm grip almost everywhere. Just yesterday you were turned down three separate times by three separate idol group PDs. You’ve been in the industry for over five years, and still sometimes you can’t even get a demo in their hands before they’re shutting the metaphorical door in your face.

“I’m looking forward to working with you too, Wonho-yah,” you say, the appropriate rote response to his sentiment.

His smile fades a little and he tilts his head at you. You get the uncomfortable feeling that he’s going to ask if you’re all right, so you move on. “Do you have a demo already?

“Ah, no I don’t. I asked Minhyuk-ah and Kihyunie to record some sample vocal lines, but I wanted to show you first.”

“Okay, let’s hear it then.” You make room on your desk for him to prop open his laptop.

He pulls his chair closer to yours and leans in to navigate to the song. The warmth of his nearness makes you look over reflexively, and then his deltoids capture your attention.

A spark of attraction zaps through you, hard. You almost flinch. There’s always been something of a pull between you two, a pull that sometimes makes you wonder what would happen if you were younger and not part of the industry and Wonho was the type of person to indulge in quiet indiscretions.

At that moment, Wonho turns to you. Whatever words he was about to say fade as the two of you lock eyes. The silence abruptly seems very, very loud. His lips…

But. You’re older, and you’re a female songwriter and producer, and Wonho is an idol with a million and one fans. The facts are enough to make you look away.

You fix your eyes on his screen. “Is this the demo?”

“Ah—yes.” Wonho clears his throat roughly, and you take miserable solace in the fact that you’re not the only one feeling this way. “Here, let me play it through once. Please let me know what you think.”

Fortunately, it’s easy to engross yourself in the work. Two hours fly by as you discuss melody lines, chord progressions, verse structure and more with Wonho, who’s very receptive and open. After a little encouragement, he also starts sharing his own ideas more freely.

“See, I think the background accompaniment is good if it’s strong here, it kind of sounds like it’s swallowing up the main vocal line — ”

“Swallowing?” you say skeptically.

He nods several times. “This song is about falling into love, right? So you fall and you’re swallowed.”

“It sounds blurry like this, though. Unintentionally blurry.”

“It sounds blurry, but if you think about it, the blurriness could represent your senses closing in as you fall. It’s kind of a trap, you know?”

You cock your head. “Honestly, I don’t think that’s the effect achieved here.”

“You don’t get it — ah, I’m not explaining well.” Wonho sits back with a huff, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“I don’t get it?” you echo, torn between amusement and the urge to kick his impertinent little ass.

He realizes what he said and immediately turns, palms toward you in supplication. “No, no, Y/N-noona, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I didn’t explain well. It’s not your fault at all.”

Your irritation fades, leaving behind the amusement. “Well, Wonho-ssi,” you say jokingly, “if you can’t explain well and you keep offending people like this, you’ll just have to work on your songs all by yourself, right?”

“No, noona,” he says, looking half-agonized now. His hands are fluttering in between you two like sacrificial pigeons. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m teasing, it’s fine.” You punch him in the shoulder and oh God, his deltoids. The spark comes back; things inside you clench involuntarily.

Wonho’s looking at you with an expression like a chastened puppy, and the juxtaposition between his soft face and his hard muscles is somewhere close to fatal. You push back all the not-so-clean thoughts in your mind and repeat, “It’s fine, Wonho-yah, don’t worry about it, okay?”

He bobs a nod, but can’t help apologizing once more. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t we try easing back on the accompaniment, and see how it sounds? If it still doesn’t feel right, you can always experiment more.”

“Okay, noona.”

Around lunchtime, your stomach growls. You slap a hand to it, then mock-frown at Wonho’s little chuckle. “Sorry, I think I need some food. You probably have to get back to the company too, right? We can call it a day.”

“I actually don’t need to go back to the company for lunch,” he says, announcing it proudly like he’s earned some rare privilege. (Actually, maybe it is a rare privilege for idols like him.) “What about eating together?”

“Ordering delivery, right?” you check.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Wonho insists on deferring to your preferences, so you end up ordering from your favourite ramen shop. As expected, he’s perfectly happy with your choice. The two of you keep discussing the song until your phone rings with the call from the delivery person. A few minutes after you buzz them into the building, a knock comes at the door of your studio.

When you open the door, a smile spreads on your face instinctively: it’s Hyeontae, a part-timer at the ramen shop who you’ve become familiar with. “Hyeontae-oppa! I thought it was your voice on the phone, but I wasn’t sure.”

“You didn’t recognize me? I recognized you right away.” Hyeontae pretends to be offended, but his eyes are sparkling.

“That’s just because you saw my name on the order,” you joke, accepting the food from him.

“Still, you order from us so often. I’d have thought you’d be able to tell me apart by now.” He winks. “By the way, why’d you order all this? Don’t tell me you’re going to eat ramen for lunch and dinner?”

“No! It’s for two people. I don’t love your food that much.”

“Oh, you don’t? Then how come I bring you ramen every other day, hmm?”

You’re laughing and denying it when you feel a warmth at your side. You look round to find Wonho standing right beside you, staring at Hyeontae like the guy just said he hates Monsta X.

“Ah, Wonho?” you say, a little unnerved.

Wonho doesn’t break the stare until when Hyeontae stops smiling at you and starts frowning questioningly at Wonho. At that point, Wonho turns to you, creasing the corners of his mouth in a half-smile, and takes the food from you. “Noona, let me pay for the food, okay?”

“Oh, I already paid through the app,” you inform him.

“Yep, she’s good,” Hyeontae adds.

That does not make Wonho’s expression look any less foreboding. He returns his gaze to Hyeontae and shifts his weight closer to you. “Then, thanks for delivering it,” he says, and nonchalantly leans a hip into you. “We should get back to our work, right, noona?”

You teeter slightly under his weight before catching yourself. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, oppa.”

“No problem, Y/N-ah.” Hyeontae gives you a chipper salute. “Call anytime, okay?”

“Got it.” You give him a finger-gun back, then wave goodbye.

When you turn to close the door, you nearly run into Wonho. He’s still standing at the doorway, ramen in his hands, that glare on his face.

“Wonho-yah?”

He blinks, then refocuses on you. “Ah, yes. Yes?”

You gesture to the food. “Shall we eat?”

“Right! Yes.” He finally moves back into the studio, allowing you to close the door.

You relocate to the tiny card table next to the desk and set out the steaming take-out dishes. You’re pulling out the disposable chopsticks when Wonho speaks. “So I guess you go to that ramen shop a lot? For him to recognize you.”

“Yeah.” You nod as you snap your chopsticks and start rubbing them against each other. “We bonded because he loves this one girl group song that I helped to write, so he thinks I’m a big deal or something. It’s kind of silly, but nice at the same time.”

“I see.” Wonho yanks his chopsticks apart with a resounding snap, and you almost expect bamboo splinters to fly.

After another short while, he speaks up again. “You know, you shouldn’t have ramen too often. It’s not really healthy.”

You stop blowing on your ramen to look over at him. “I thought you like ramen?”

“It’s because I love it that I know it’s unhealthy!” he defends himself. “I always take lots of protein to supplement. I mean, I just think it’s important for people in general to know how to eat well.”

You smile at him. “All right, I got it.”

He drops his eyes to his food, mumbles, “So don’t order from that ramen shop too much,” and proceeds to stuff noodles into his mouth.

“Sure, okay.”

Your easy acquiescence seems to lift his mood. The rest of the meal passes by affably, with him sharing funny stories about recent Monsta X exploits while you laugh and shake your head in affectionate wonder at the mysterious machine that is K-pop. By the time the food’s done, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“I feel like I talked a lot about myself,” Wonho says, pushing his empty ramen bowl to the side. “What about you, noona?”

“What about me?” You pick up the dishes and head to the garbage can to dump them.

“What’s going on with you? We haven’t been in touch for a while.”

You sit back down and shrug lightly. “Lots of things here and there. Just finding my way through the industry, you know.”

The lightness of your shrug and tone must not be entirely convincing, because Wonho leans forward on the edge of his seat to peer at you. “Noona?”

“Yes?”

“Do you… want to talk to me about it?” he asks.

“Talk to you about what?” you deflect, hunching your shoulders in unconscious defensiveness.

But he squares his body to you and leans in some more. “Anything. Is something bothering you? You don’t have to tell me, but sometimes — sometimes it’s helpful to talk to somebody else, no matter what it is.”

You hesitate.

“I want to help,” he says, very firmly, and looks at you with open, vulnerable eyes. “If I can.”

It’s impossible to doubt his sincerity.

So even though you’re not sure that he’ll see your point of view as a man, that there’s anything he can do to help, you tell him.

By the end, he’s frowning so hard his brow is scrunched into three lines. “Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that, noona. I didn’t know that kind of sexist stuff happened.”

“It’s okay,” you say automatically. It’s not, but neither is it his fault. “It’s just been eating at me for a while, that’s all. But I’ll keep working hard with people like you and build up my credentials until my time comes.”

“But it’s unfair.”

He doesn’t even question the validity of your experiences, which surprises and touches you more than his sympathy does. “It is unfair,” you agree. “But that’s how it is, I’ve accepted it.”

“No,” he says, sitting up straighter. “I want to help you.”

“What?” Now you’re definitely surprised.

“I know songwriters and producers who want collaborators,” he continues, picking up steam. “It might not happen right away, but I could at least make introductions for you.”

“Wonho-yah, you really don’t have to —”

“And I know Changkyunnie would probably be willing to work with you.” There’s a determined glint in his eyes. “He really liked that song we produced together for Trespass, he even asked me if I wrote it alone or with someone else.”

Okay, that stops you for a second. “Changkyun?” you repeat. You’ve never worked with an actual rapper before, and you’ve always wanted to.

“Yeah!” Wonho launches to his feet enthusiastically. “That would be so easy to set up.”

“Do you think we could?” You’re starting to hope; Wonho’s energy is infectious.

“Definitely.” He beams at you. “Would you want to?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then yes, definitely! I’ve always wanted to work with someone like Changkyun.”

“Oh?” Wonho tilts his head at you.

“Yeah.” You’re getting excited now. “Do you think he’d say yes? To working with me?”

“I didn’t know you’ve always wanted to work with Changkyun,” Wonho says instead of answering. His head tilts further.

“Why not, right? He writes his own lyrics, and he’s worked on so many songs — I’m sure you know that better than me. It’s especially impressive considering he’s the maknae. And I’ve never worked with a rapper.” Giddiness bubbles in you, and you suppress a bounce.

You almost fail to notice that the energy is slowly draining out of Wonho’s body. “Ah, well, great,” he says, sounding lacklustre now.

You stop your internal party and focus on him. What’s going on? All the excitement from just a moment ago is gone.

He feels you staring at him and quickly tries to recover. “I’ll ask Changkyun, for sure. Just… how about we get back to working on my songs for now?”

“Of course,” you say. “That’s why we’re here, after all.”

Wonho shuffles back to his seat at the computer desk. When you sit down beside him, you catch him mumbling something like, “…didn’t seem like it anymore.”

“Sorry?”

He just gives a small sniff and keeps his attention on the laptop in front of him.

“Wonho-yah.” You put a hand on his shoulder and do your best to ignore the spark. “Is something the matter?”

He looks round promptly at your touch. “No,” he says. “I’ve just never seen you so eager like that before.”

You withdraw, puzzled by the slight prickliness in his words. “Really?”

“You looked like you were going to grab my cell phone and call Changkyunnie right there on the spot,” he says, almost accusingly.

“What???”

“Are you ever that eager to work with me?”

You just blink at him in bewilderment and, also, the tiniest, tiniest bit of excitement. Is he… is this…

He seems to take your lack of response as confirmation, and resettles himself to face the computers with a grumpy huff. “No. You’re not.”

“Wonho-yah.” When he doesn’t look at you, you dare to take his chin and pull his face toward you. He maintains his sullen look, but his breath seems to come faster. “Wonho-yah,” you repeat.

He doesn’t pull away from your grasp. “What, noona?”

“Are you… jealous?”

The question hovers in the air between you two. Your faces are centimetres apart; if you tipped your head forward, your nose would brush his. He’s breathing shallowly. You’re barely breathing at all.

Just when you decide you have to pull away, Wonho closes the space between you and puts his lips on yours.

You gasp into his mouth, both from the lack of air in your lungs and the shock of the contact, and a muffled sound comes from Wonho’s throat that makes everything inside you clench once again. Then his jaw is angled hard against you and he’s leaning his weight into the kiss like he wants to dive into you. You clutch at his arms, which have somehow wrapped around your body, and nearly melt at the solidness of his biceps. The feel of being wrapped up in him is entirely too good to be true.

He eases back, leaving both of you panting, and you lock eyes again. He’s searching for something in your face, explicit consent maybe, and you give it by leaning in and taking his lips this time. Next thing you know, his tongue is in your mouth and you’re halfway onto his lap and his fingers are in your hair, massaging your scalp so tenderly that you can’t help giving a small moan.

At the sound, his teeth close around your bottom lip, and you jerk reflexively. That causes you to come into contact with a hard bulge that all of a sudden makes his lap a hazardous place to sit.

“Ahh…” Wonho draws back and gives a hiss of air as you shift away from his erection. “Fuck.”

“Wonho,” you manage to get out.

“Yes,” he says on a pant, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips.

“We need to talk first, okay?”

He gives a low whine when you try to pull back and tightens his grip on you. “We can talk like this.”

You have to give a breathless laugh. Aren’t you supposed to get less amorous when someone says “Let’s talk”? Nevertheless, you let him arrange you so that you’ve got both legs curled up on his lap, not quite straddling him. In his current state, you feel like one wrong movement on your part could injure him, but he doesn’t seem to share your concern.

“Okay.” You attempt to clear your throat. “Okay.”

“Noona,” he says, heading you off. “You wanted that, right?”

You’re not usually the blushing type, not with your darker skin, but you’re pretty sure you’re blushing right now. “I — yes. But — you’re an idol, you know,” you say, trying to get this talk back on track.

“I know,” he says. In this position, you’re a little taller than he is, and you can clearly see him looking at your mouth, which happens to be level with his eyes. Despite yourself, butterflies start up in your stomach.

“And I work in your industry, Wonho —”

“And we work together, and I’m part of Monsta X, and I’m contracted to the company. I know all this, noona. I’ve thought about it before,” he finishes for you.

“Okay, well, good.” Why don’t these facts sound as much like barriers when he says them?

“We’ll figure it all out,” he says simply. “I promise.”

“You promise,” you repeat.

“Yes,” he says.

“It’s not that easy, Wonho-yah.”

“But I’m going to try.” He gazes up at you with those vulnerable eyes of his. “Trust me, noona.”

He says he’ll try.

So you say, “...I’ll try.”

You’ll try to trust him. It’s the most you can say right now, because the fears and worries are real. But so is he, right now. So are we.

In any case, Wonho seems satisfied with that, because he proceeds to completely change the subject. “You want me more than you wanted to work with Changkyun, right?”

Ummmm, what? “Is this an either-or situation?” you hedge.

“No. As long as it’s clear that you’re off-limits to him.”

“Wonho-yah.”

“And to your Hyeontae-oppa, too.”

“He’s not my Hyeontae-oppa.”

Wonho pulls you close, his strength overriding yours easily, and nuzzles into your stomach. “No,” he says, voice muffled. “You’re mine.”

“Wonho-yah, really…” You tug gently at his hair.

He tilts his head up and looks at you. “I’ll be yours too,” he says softly, “if you want.”

Aaaand that’s it. K.O. You’re dead. Slain by this boy who’s staring at you like he’s promising to use all the muscles he’ll ever build to search the world and give you whatever you want.

You lift a hand and rest it across his eyes. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He tugs at your arm.

“Stop looking at me like that when I’m trying to talk to you about something important.”

“How am I looking at you?” Now there’s a suggestive undertone in his voice.

You’re about to smack him for his cheek when his phone starts ringing on the desk. Startled, you quickly slide off his lap, clutching at his shoulders for balance, and reach for the phone.

“It’s Changkyun.”

In a flash Wonho’s standing and prying the phone away from you. “Don’t answer it!”

“I wouldn’t, it’s your phone.” You hold back a laugh at how panicked he looks. “But you’re going to ask him if he wants to work with me, right?”

He shoots you a stern frown. “Of course. After I tell him that you’re with me.”

And now you have to laugh.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Wonho-yah...”

“We’re together now. You want me, right?”

“Answer the phone, okay?”

“Noona! Answer me first!”

Author’s note:

First this started out as fluff with a helping of feminism thrown in. Then I decided to try amping up the steaminess, because let’s face it, we’re all thirsty for Wonho. And then whoops it turned romantic and honestly I’m not even sure how. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

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