Hey there! here's the AU no one asked for but I wanted to write anyway. it's also an excuse for me to write a lot of shameless bottom Wonwoo and angst. I saw this prompt while scrolling through Twitter and became attached to it with a vengeance. This is definitely not a one-shot, I have some scenes I would like to incorporate into it, It's my first time with the concept of cross-dressing. Anyways Please do read the tags, If you are uncomfortable with any of this please do not proceed to read further.
The prompt is inspired by Trouble I'm In
**Tags:**
- Bottom Wonwoo
- Cross-dressing
- Angst
- Self-discovery
- LGBTQ+ themes
- Emotional turmoil
**Disclaimer:** The characters and their actions in this narrative are entirely fictional and do not represent the real-life personas of the idols.
Enjoy!
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"That'll be fourteen eighty-seven, sir."
Mingyu pulls out his wallet, sleek brown leather with the word Bottega Veneta printed on the side in gold. He fishes for some crisp bills and hands it to the cashier who takes it with a rehearsed smile.
"You usually only buy two bottles," she says and points at the extra bottle of soju with long, chipped red fingernails that are long overdue for a manicure. "Special occasion or rough night?"
Mingyu tries a smile but it probably makes him look more tired than anything. His eyelids feel heavy and his back aches from sitting in an office chair for nearly ten hours straight. He's eager to get out of the suffocating, black suit and into something more comfortable.
"Rough night," he replies with a dramatic sigh and she laughs, the sound awkwardly loud in the store.
Mingyu had spent the entire day in his office trying to get a proposal that his department had been working on for the past few months finalized, only for it to be rejected. He'd even stayed an extra two hours, only to be told that his ideas weren't innovative enough or whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. And now, he just wants to knock back a few bottles of soju and drown in self-pity before passing out.
The doorbell chimes and the first thing Mingyu is hit with is the overwhelming stench of perfume. Second, the clack of heels against the dirty, white tiled flooring. It's midnight on a Wednesday and Mingyu is expecting a woman with aching feet, tired from her miserable day at the office. But when he turns his head, what Mingyu sees has his eyes nearly bulging right out of their sockets.
It's a man, that's for sure. But men don't wear heels, nor do they wear red sequin dresses that shine under fluorescent ceiling lights. When the guy moves, the color seems to move with him, swirling in the small, plastic sequins that gleam brightly whenever the light catches them.
The man—though he looks more like a boy—defies conventional femininity. He lacks curves and delicate wrists, yet his milky skin stands in stark contrast to Mingyu's. Broad shoulders taper down to the slimmest waist Mingyu has ever encountered, and the dress he wears hangs loosely off one shoulder, teasingly revealing prominent collarbones. And wait—are those pecs peeking out?
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Encounter
أدب الهواة"I saw you staring' at me in there," he says before Mingyu can even register who he is. Mingyu blinks rapidly, his heavy eyelids feeling like lead, and rubs his eyes in a futile attempt to shake off the fog of exhaustion. He blinks again, disbelief...
