b1a4; after hours
Jul. 12th, 2013 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fourcoldpawsbaro/girl!cnu. r. 1002 words. b1a4 is a co-ed group and sunwoo may or may not be sleeping with woori. (originally posted at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kprompts)
For the sake of professionalism and good group dynamics and the company policies printed up in a neat little pamphlet stacked on shelves in the corridor outside the CEO’s office, Sunwoo very diligently does not sleep with Woori.
It’s not really about the fans, per se, (well, of course it’s about the fans, everything is about the fans, but,) while a part of Sunwoo sometimes thinks that most of the fans wouldn’t necessarily mind, (they have a witty ship name like anyone else) – if anything, it’s just not what they’d expect; Woori and Jinyoung, Woori and Chanshik, that’s the kind of story that’d make headlines and some extra grands in the company chest, maybe even boost their popularity for a month or two… but it really isn’t about that. It’s anyway not part of their job, their job is to be attractive and available always. None of it’s got anything to do with that.
Woori and Sunwoo comes down to Woori, and to Sunwoo, and sometimes Sunwoo thinks about what things might have been like if they had not been famous and subject to so many supposed-to’s and so fucking fucking busy – and doubts that they would be much different at all. They are who they are and that sets the course of things.
Woori is the kind of girl who you (well, Sunwoo anyway) wouldn’t talk to at a party, but if your friend asks you what you think of her you wouldn’t have anything negative to say. She’s just… not… You might noncommittally tell your friend that she doesn’t have it. Even though both Woori and Junghwa (and Sunwoo, for that matter) have properly shitty eyesight it’s Woori who gets the glasses because she (although nobody would say this out loud) needs something to be recognized by. Woori is the kind of girl who smiles when she’s uncomfortable, who punches your arm in earnest as an expression of affection, whose way of seduction is to corner you and look into your eyes and very honestly ask if you want to have sex with her.
It’s funny because Sunwoo is the kind of guy who (although this would never pass his lips during an interview or the likes; “Someone who communicates well and understands me, someone with a nice smile,” he recites from his memorized script, this so carefully put vagueness entirely void of specifics applicable to Woori and Junghwa) generally prefers the femme fatale type, the big gazonkers and a smashing ass (although swear-to-god he only harbors brotherly feelings for Junghwa he may have caught himself studying her rotund posterior on a few occasions – it’s right there and he’s a man okay, what’s he supposed to do, besides doesn’t she think he sees the way she looks at him when he’s wearing sweatpants), the long flowing hair and blood-red lipstick kind of type. Sunwoo is the kind of guy who pulled at girls’ pigtails at school, who thinks caring about things is a weakness, who, at the times when he really wants to kiss her, teasingly calls Woori “hyung” and then feels really bad about it because he knows that she harbors complexes about her height and wide shoulders and flat ass. He knows that if she puts her hand around his throat briefly and grins a little it’s okay, but if she just walks away it will plague him a whole day and he will hate that he’s too stubborn to apologize.
He never told her that she rocked the “Baby I’m sorry” undercut, never tells her how hot she looks when she raps, certainly doesn’t tell her that whenever she walks around the dorm in a t-shirt with no bra under he needs to go outside for a moment, and at those times in the van when everybody’s sleeping and she might lean her head on his shoulder and look up at him and smile a tired smile he will shrug her off and look out the window.
Instead there’s incidents of him walking in on her in just a tank top in the bathroom which somehow end with them aggressively ugly-snogging against the door for fifteen minutes before she leaves with stiff legs and a red face, and Sunwoo really wonders if stuff like that doesn’t fuck up the group dynamic more than anything.
Maybe it’s better then, the times that he actually fingers her against that bathroom door, the other hand clamped over her mouth because the others are probably up by now and he just can’t stop grinning like an idiot at her messy hair and squeezed-shut eyes and strangled noises against his palm and when she stretches up against the door and tips her head back and stops breathing he leans in and presses his lips and face against her neck and somehow making her come feels almost like he’s coming himself. (But it’s not like it’s easier to look each other in the eye afterwards.)
Maybe it’s better, the times that they fuck in her bed, granted still without talking but at least she looks up at him when he rolls on the condom and he looks back as good as he can, fumbling more than he should at this point and probably being a little too quick with it but she just wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close close to her chest so that they rock together and all he can do is bury his face in her hair and come way too fast and flush when she kisses his temple.
Sunwoo likes to think that it’s complicated. That some things are out of their hands. Sometimes he wonders if he’s afraid, and what he’s afraid of. But what would he even say? Hey this is never gonna lead anywhere and I’m also not sure if you’re good enough for me because you’re not what I fapped to in junior high. (And he’s also aware that this is the exact reason why he’s not good enough for her).
kprompts)For the sake of professionalism and good group dynamics and the company policies printed up in a neat little pamphlet stacked on shelves in the corridor outside the CEO’s office, Sunwoo very diligently does not sleep with Woori.
It’s not really about the fans, per se, (well, of course it’s about the fans, everything is about the fans, but,) while a part of Sunwoo sometimes thinks that most of the fans wouldn’t necessarily mind, (they have a witty ship name like anyone else) – if anything, it’s just not what they’d expect; Woori and Jinyoung, Woori and Chanshik, that’s the kind of story that’d make headlines and some extra grands in the company chest, maybe even boost their popularity for a month or two… but it really isn’t about that. It’s anyway not part of their job, their job is to be attractive and available always. None of it’s got anything to do with that.
Woori and Sunwoo comes down to Woori, and to Sunwoo, and sometimes Sunwoo thinks about what things might have been like if they had not been famous and subject to so many supposed-to’s and so fucking fucking busy – and doubts that they would be much different at all. They are who they are and that sets the course of things.
Woori is the kind of girl who you (well, Sunwoo anyway) wouldn’t talk to at a party, but if your friend asks you what you think of her you wouldn’t have anything negative to say. She’s just… not… You might noncommittally tell your friend that she doesn’t have it. Even though both Woori and Junghwa (and Sunwoo, for that matter) have properly shitty eyesight it’s Woori who gets the glasses because she (although nobody would say this out loud) needs something to be recognized by. Woori is the kind of girl who smiles when she’s uncomfortable, who punches your arm in earnest as an expression of affection, whose way of seduction is to corner you and look into your eyes and very honestly ask if you want to have sex with her.
It’s funny because Sunwoo is the kind of guy who (although this would never pass his lips during an interview or the likes; “Someone who communicates well and understands me, someone with a nice smile,” he recites from his memorized script, this so carefully put vagueness entirely void of specifics applicable to Woori and Junghwa) generally prefers the femme fatale type, the big gazonkers and a smashing ass (although swear-to-god he only harbors brotherly feelings for Junghwa he may have caught himself studying her rotund posterior on a few occasions – it’s right there and he’s a man okay, what’s he supposed to do, besides doesn’t she think he sees the way she looks at him when he’s wearing sweatpants), the long flowing hair and blood-red lipstick kind of type. Sunwoo is the kind of guy who pulled at girls’ pigtails at school, who thinks caring about things is a weakness, who, at the times when he really wants to kiss her, teasingly calls Woori “hyung” and then feels really bad about it because he knows that she harbors complexes about her height and wide shoulders and flat ass. He knows that if she puts her hand around his throat briefly and grins a little it’s okay, but if she just walks away it will plague him a whole day and he will hate that he’s too stubborn to apologize.
He never told her that she rocked the “Baby I’m sorry” undercut, never tells her how hot she looks when she raps, certainly doesn’t tell her that whenever she walks around the dorm in a t-shirt with no bra under he needs to go outside for a moment, and at those times in the van when everybody’s sleeping and she might lean her head on his shoulder and look up at him and smile a tired smile he will shrug her off and look out the window.
Instead there’s incidents of him walking in on her in just a tank top in the bathroom which somehow end with them aggressively ugly-snogging against the door for fifteen minutes before she leaves with stiff legs and a red face, and Sunwoo really wonders if stuff like that doesn’t fuck up the group dynamic more than anything.
Maybe it’s better then, the times that he actually fingers her against that bathroom door, the other hand clamped over her mouth because the others are probably up by now and he just can’t stop grinning like an idiot at her messy hair and squeezed-shut eyes and strangled noises against his palm and when she stretches up against the door and tips her head back and stops breathing he leans in and presses his lips and face against her neck and somehow making her come feels almost like he’s coming himself. (But it’s not like it’s easier to look each other in the eye afterwards.)
Maybe it’s better, the times that they fuck in her bed, granted still without talking but at least she looks up at him when he rolls on the condom and he looks back as good as he can, fumbling more than he should at this point and probably being a little too quick with it but she just wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close close to her chest so that they rock together and all he can do is bury his face in her hair and come way too fast and flush when she kisses his temple.
Sunwoo likes to think that it’s complicated. That some things are out of their hands. Sometimes he wonders if he’s afraid, and what he’s afraid of. But what would he even say? Hey this is never gonna lead anywhere and I’m also not sure if you’re good enough for me because you’re not what I fapped to in junior high. (And he’s also aware that this is the exact reason why he’s not good enough for her).
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Date: 2013-10-12 04:42 pm (UTC)Junghwa walks in on them one night when she has late schedules, but not quite that late. They claim to be just talking, but are in the unforgiving light of the ceiling lamp painfully naked.
Maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe everybody already knows, but Sunwoo still feels a dull sort of panic rising within him over the next couple of days. All the warnings, all the guilt, everything he has pushed away, grown used to, grown dull to, accepted and dismissed, comes rushing back to the surface and he feels nauseous. How can he have been so fucking stupid. He regrets every little thing, every outrageous risk taken, would do anything to go back in time and have it all undone but it’s too late. He knows immediately, knows in his body, what the only answer is, what needs to be done. And it’s so obvious that it’s really fucking baffling that he didn’t see it before, that he let this go on for so long.
She comes smiling at him in the dark recesses of a set, that smile that is sort of reserved for occasions like these, that holds a promise of a moment. She looks around subtly before moving next to him, and when she knows that nobody’s looking she puts her chin on his shoulder; an easy thing, something that could still be passed off innocent, as something between friends, and whispers something completely mundane and lovely into his ear.
And he feels her breath on his skin, feels her hair and her smell and her very presence, somehow holding so many connotations in his brain, the weight and warmth of her body against his (and for a short moment he leans into it, or wants to anyway, doesn’t really know if the impulse actually translates into action, but wants to turn his head and put his face into her hair by her neck and make her laugh).
Yet it’s so stupidly easy to push her away, way too easy, like this is what comes to him, this is what’s natural to him, this is what he amounts to. So easy to shrug her off with a jerk of his shoulder, harsher than necessary, like a boy, like a child, and getting up to leave with an light sniff, moving effortlessly to the very other end of the room, as far away from her as possible, and making a point out of standing next to Chanshik and saying something that makes him laugh and laughing very loudly along with him. And he gets this very sick excited urge to turn his head and look back to see the look on her face. But doesn’t because he has a feeling it wouldn’t feel as good if he actually did it.
It would probably feel pretty shitty.
She doesn’t give up immediately, she tries again, and he can’t decide if he likes it or hates it. She comes up to him when he’s sitting with his laptop, winds arms around him and kisses him on the neck, and all in the same moment his dick perks to attention and immediately softens down again because of how nakedly genuine the gesture appears, how genuine she is. She hunches over his shoulder and then sits there, waits, and he knows she wants him to turn his head and wants to kiss him (at least that’s what he hopes she wants,) (or something,) and he catches the impulse when his head is already half-way turned, turns it back jerkily, pretends to concentrate.
And all the while until she finally gets up to leave with a barely-threre sigh he thinks about how her lips feel.
She tries to joke, tries to hit him in the chest, tries to spank his ass (as always with force enough to burn), one day even wrestles him down and every so gently roughs him up, ruffles his hair and pulls at his ears, but when she notices that he’s not fighting, just lies still and limp like a dead fish, lets him go and just lies next to him on the floor for a moment before getting up and leaving.