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Summary
"You know," Joshua says, conversationally. "One of Jun's groomsmen is single too."
Mingyu shakes his head. "I actually think I need to take a break from dating right now."
It's a lie and they all know it. Mingyu would not say he's a casual dater but he is always dating someone. He wants to find someone to spend the rest of his life with and he will argue that there's nothing wrong in being proactive about it.
Jeonghan tuts. "Joshuji didn't say anything about dating, Mingoo."
Mingyu frowns at them both. "You know I don't do one night stands."
Jeonghan flops down on the bed. "Aish, Mingoo, what are weddings for if not some ill advised making out at least."
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Or, Mingyu gets dumped before Joshua's wedding and is sad about it, Jeon Wonwoo might the right man to do something about it
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The tap on his thigh brings him back from his thoughts, his gaze traveling back to Wonwoo. “Do you want to go on a date?”
“I don’t date at work,” he replies, holding his eye.
“Right,” Wonwoo nods. “I could quit.”
“What?” He squeaks, almost falling out of his seat.
“What?” He repeats. “I think we’d be good together. You’re funny, and attractive. I’m funny, and attractive, and I have these glasses you like so much! If work is the only thing stopping you, I’ll quit.”
Or
Soonyoung is set on not finding the love of his life at the office, and Wonwoo is set on trying to change that.
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Summary
def. ninety seconds of rest after every odd-numbered game where the players change sides of the court.
They fall in love and rule the world. Not in that order.
(Maybe in that order.)
A professional tennis AU.
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Lee Seokmin, a musical actor who sometimes dabbles into mainstream media, with a respectable social media engagement and popularity, is about to have a dating scandal with (the!) Jeon Wonwoo, one part of the hip hop quartet HHU.
Series
- Part 1 of this love is ours
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Summary
“That hurt,” Vernon says honestly, because he’s the kind of person who speaks his mind, and your lips twitch up into a smile.
“Well, you handled it like a champ,” you say, hands resting on your hips, and—okay, he knows you’re mocking him, but his chest still warms at the not-compliment.
“I bet you say that to all the boys you patch up,” he says playfully.
You cock your head, still smiling. “Only the ones under thirteen,” you quip, which makes him laugh despite the implication.
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So you punched a guy, and now he wants you to teach him how to fight (go figure). Well, fine, you say. As long as he keeps his distance (spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)