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tonicandjins · 6 years ago

Text

storm

characters: yoon jeonghan/reader

genre/theme: fluff, married life

word count: 1,859

warnings: none

september i love yous #16: as we huddle together, with the storm raging outside for @lxveille

“I don’t want it. Return that thing back where it came from.”

Jeonghan nonchalantly returns to recline back in bed from his sitting position, shutting his eyes close in hopes of muting the sound of barking alongside your children’s vivid laughter from the other side of the door. He hears you sigh and fights the small smile forming on his drying lips because you’d know you’ve won the second he cracks. You always win at stuff like this. At literally anything in the household.

“But Jeonghannie.” There goes the nickname and the pout. The bed dips beside him and you’re suddenly snuggled up in his side. “Nari and Jino like him already!”

Jeonghan keeps his eyes closed. “I don’t care,” he mutters sleepily. “Return it. I want it gone when I wake up.”

“Honey,” you plead. “He’s nice and young. I checked all his papers from the shelter. He’s completed all types of vaccines and boosters for the entire year.”

“I don’t care,” he says again, opening his eyes and looking down on you. He was right; he didn’t even need to look at you to know you’re pouting. “We have no room for a pet nor do we have the luxury of time to take care of one while juggling between our jobs and the kids.”

Sighing, you entangle yourself from him and sit up. Jeonghan does as well. “We can leave him to Cheol when we’re gone. Trust me, honey, I’ve already had this all planned.”

It visibly takes you aback when Jeonghan stands from the bed, sliding on his indoor slippers and lazily walking towards the door. “Nice to know none of your plans include telling me first.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing to catch up with him.

The door of your children’s playroom is wide open when you and your husband pass by them. “Daddy!” Nari calls out. Jeonghan’s heart softens by a million times at the sight of his girl holding the small, brown puppy in his arms as he runs towards you and him. “Look! Meet Sandy!”

Jeonghan stops just in front of their door and goes down on one knee to pat Nari’s hair. “Mommy has something to tell you while I secure the house for the storm tomorrow, okay?” Jino runs towards them, giggling as he reaches out both hands. Jeonghan stands to carry the three-year old kid and kisses the top of Nari’s head. “Hey, buddy.”

“Daddy,” the younger says, a wide grin painted on his face. “His name is Sandy because his fur looks like sand.” Jeonghan nods and kisses Jino the same way as Nari.

“That’s great,” he answers and puts Jino down. The younger immediately cradles the puppy in his arms, Nari painstakingly passing it to him. Jeonghan looks at you, his eyes firm while yours are hopeful, but he shakes his head and turns to walk down the stairs. “You’re telling them that we’re not keeping it. I want it returned after I store and secure all our stuff from outside.”

“Jeonghan,” you call out, still following after him. “The kids love him!”

He stops, making you halt and bump into him before the last step of the stairs. “I would have loved him, too, if you simply asked me before going out to take some puppy from the dog shelter.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little petty to be angry merely because I didn’t ask your permission?” you ask. Jeonghan turns around.

“Tell the kids we’re not keeping it,” he mutters. “And I would have wanted to be a part of the decisions you make because that’s how marriage works usually. Apparently not.”

He hears you sigh. “Jeonghan.” He shuts the door close.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

The storm arrives earlier than what the morning news had told you. The clock had barely struck at eight in the evening when the heavy rain began to pour, flashes of lightning and claps of thunder roaring along. Jeonghan is still sitting on the couch while you’re giving Jino a bath before bedtime. Usually, Nari comes to watch with him but she’s already upstairs, playing with the dog like she’s been doing all day. When another roar of thunder cracks on his sky, Jeonghan turns off the television and takes himself upstairs.

The door of the kids’ room is open and he finds you with the kids (and the dog) as you get them ready for bed. Leaving against the doorframe, Jeonghan listens to your conversation. You haven’t realized he’s there yet.

“I know, sweetheart,” you say, kissing the top of Nari’s head. “Daddy’s really upset about what Mommy did so I need to return Sandy.”

Nari pouts. “If we return him, who’s going to give him belly rubs?”

“The dog shelter will find new ones,” you assure. “Can you sleep by yourselves now? Or should we read Hansel and Gretel until you sleep?”

Jeonghan clears his throat to get your attention. You and the kids immediately turn to look at him. “Anyone up for a slumber party at Mommy and Daddy’s room? The storm’s stirring up the sky real bad.”

Nari and Jino immediately jump from their bed, smiles playing on their lips, and runs towards Jeonghan. He allows the children to climb on him, Jino immediately wrapping his arms on his neck and his legs around Jeonghan’s torso. Nari giggles as she hugs her father’s leg, showing how excited she is to sleep in their parents’ room. It’s only then that Jeonghan realizes that it’s been long—too long—since the kids slept with them in their room.

He looks at you. You’re still silent as you fix the kids’ beds and collect random toys they’d want to sleep with. “The doors are already locked,” he tells you. You nod, still unable to look at him right in the eyes, and pick up Jino’s plushie.

Just as Jeonghan turns to leave with Jino wrapped around him like a koala, the dog barks. Sandyrepeatedly barks upon seeing you and the kids leave, jumping up and down inside his small cage. Sighing, you watch as Nari runs back to pat the dog on his head, whispering something incoherent.

“Come on, Nari,” you call. “He’ll be fine.”

“But, Mom—” Jeonghan doesn’t miss the subtle glare you shoot towards your daughter. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sandy.”

Your husband sighs audibly, nodding in your direction. “You can take it in our room for as long as it stays quiet and it doesn’t bother the kids while they sleep.”

Nari jumps in excitement and rushes to take the dog cage before Jeonghan could even have the chance the change his mind. The little girl looks visibly happy as she takes the dog, while you smile at Jeonghan in hopes of transmitting an unsaid thank youfor allowing Sandy to stay with you for the entire night. He walks with Nari, Jino still clinging onto him, leaving you to switch off the lights and follow them afterward.

A crack of thunder startles the kids as they settle themselves in the middle of the bed. Jeonghan smiles fondly when Jino pouts in fear of the storm and Nari comes quickly to hug her little brother. Moments like this are ones that you and Jeonghan treasure the most because their childhood would eventually come to pass, like how you and him have been together for almost eight years now but it seems like it hasn’t been that long. The sight of your children in the middle of the bed makes you both stop right at the doorway, watching in awe at how beautiful two people can make out of love.

Sandy comes running towards Jeonghan’s feet, making him stumble a little, the smile on his lips turning into a small frown. You quickly take the dog in your hands and apologize to Jeonghan. “I told Nari to keep it in the cage,” you mumble apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’ll return him once the storm’s over.”

Jeonghan smiles and it startles you when he quickly leans in to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, something he would have given you if you both were eighteen, still learning how to make each other’s heart race. “We can keep him.I’m sorry for being all prissy about it.”

Your face lights up. Jeonghan’s heart takes a huge leap. “Really?”

Nodding, he rubs the dog’s ears, to which Sandy returns the affection quickly, leaning into Jeonghan’s touch. You look up from the wonderful sight when Jino calls you and Jeonghan, asking why you’re still standing by the doorway. The dog jumps out of your arms when you lower your body to put him on the floor; he runs towards his cage and settles himself in. It doesn’t take longer than a minute for you and Jeonghan to jump on the bed, settling yourselves on either side of the bed, your kids comfortably reclined in the middle.

Another crack of thunder startles the kids, making them screech. Jeonghan leans over to switch off his lamp, leaving only yours to illuminate the entire room.

“Still scared?” he asks the kids, draping the duvet over them and kissing their heads.

“Not anymore,” Nari answers. “Not when Mommy and Daddy are with us.”

“Wuv you, Mommy,” Jino mumbles sleepily. “Wuv you, Daddy.”

“Love you,” Jeonghan replies fondly.

“Goodnight, munchkins,” you whisper, kissing them on their noses like you always do. “We’ll protect you from the storm.”

The rain pours harder, a series of roaring thunders coming after. Laying on his side, Jeonghan looks at you as you curl yourself beside Jino, your eyes fondly focused on the kids. Though it’s a little dark, his gaze doesn’t leave you until the kids have closed their eyes and drifted to slumber. You had always loved looking at the kids while they sleep, especially when they were younger. You once told him you liked staring at the people you love as they sleep. He wonders if you do the same to him. (You do. Every night before you sleep. The second you wake up.)

The dog must have slept on his own because for a few minutes, it’s only the thunderstorm that you and him could hear. You look surprised when you look up and meet his eyes.

“Thought you’d be asleep,” you mutter, sitting up to tie your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you, voice sounding sleepy and drained. The darkness almost hides the blush on your cheeks. “I love you.”

You shake your head, giggling softly as you lean over the kids to kiss him on the lips. “And I love you. Thank you for allowing us to keep Sandy.”

“I’d take anything for as long as I see you and the kids happy,” he replies. You return to lay back on your side so you’re facing him, too. “Even a brown furball whose name is that of a girl when he’s obviously a boy.”

“Sandy is a gender-neutral name!” you defend, making him smile softly. You really are beautiful.

“I love you,” he tells you again as you huddle together with the kids, the storm raging outside.

“And I love you.”

#qsilys #sfwseventeen #svtwriters #write-svt #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan au #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan scenario #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen fic #seventeen au

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softhaos · 7 years ago

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PARTICULAR (DIS)TASTE

pairing – choi seungcheol x reader genre – humor + bickering + rival!au description – a wise man once said that the favorite type of coffee reflects the personality of said person. seungcheol loves his macchiato with an overdose of milk and sweetener, but you're convinced that deep down inside, he's a bitter person to the bone. alternatively, you accidentally spill coffee over him and the situation goes out of hand. warning – none word count – 3,331 words author’s note – this was supposed to be posted on cheol’s bday oh well better late than never oops and it’s been a while since i could pour out 3k+ words without breaking my head too much about it uwu i hope you enjoy!

set in the victorious universe | can be read as a standalone

A lot can change in one semester like two professors suddenly quitting their job, Seungkwan somehow becoming the new TA for Professor Yee despite just being an acting minor, an influx of competitiveness during assignments as well as a new addition to the more known students on campus. It’s a lot to take in, especially when getting a thorough update of the past few months from Mingyu is the first thing you do after your semester abroad.

“As much as I appreciate you giving me the crucial updates, is it really important to know that Seungkwan nearly shaved off Vernon’s head?” you questioningly arch a brow at him.

Mingyu smiles sheepishly as he reaches for the bowl of chips. “I thought it was funny to know. But anyway, the thing you must know–” he stuffs the chips into his mouth, “–is that someone in our year took Jin’s place–” you silently pray that he won’t spit out some crumbles onto your furniture as he talks, “–as the #1 honor student in the acting department.”

“Um, how interesting…” you slightly shuffle away from Mingyu to avoid getting spat at in case the event occurs. Mingyu sends you a questioning look but remains oblivious when you get back to the point. “Wait, Jin as in Kim Seokjin? That guy’s never placed worse than second in the annual acting triathlon ever since he’s enrolled here! The new guy must’ve dedicated his life to the stage then.”

Mingyu shrugs. “Choi Seungcheol has never placed worse than first place. It was his first time participating at the triathlon. Before that, he won the first place at every junior challenge he’s competed in.”

“Choi Seungcheol, huh?” to be honest, you’ve never heard that name before. You don’t know whether to drown in the sea of embarrassment or pretend that your semester abroad turned your mind hazy on some aspects. As an acting major yourself, you should at least know the other acting majors in your year. And as if karma hasn’t got the best of you yet, it so happens to be that there are significantly less acting majors in your year compared to the others.

Oh well. Blame it on memory loss caused by your semester spent overseas.

Mingyu seems to have you figured out. Not that it was a difficult challenge since your confusion was evident on your face. “Don’t worry, Vernon didn’t know who he was either until he beat Jin.”

“Vernon doesn’t even take acting classes.” you deadpan and snatch the almost empty bowl of chips from him. “I give you ten points for that lousy attempt, though.”

Mingyu reaches forward, trying to steal some more snacks but when you kicked his arm aside, he pouts and ultimately gives up the moment he realizes that his attempts are futile. “Fine, then no snack for me, jeez.”

He repositions himself on the couch and begins to elaborate once he found a comfortable pose, namely taking up the entire couch with his legs and locking his arms behind his head. “Seungcheol’s actually really nice and doesn’t let the sudden popularity get into his head. There’s nobody he dislikes if I recall correctly. I mean, sure, if he and Chan ever trip over each other’s feet, it’d be a war but since they don’t share any courses, everything’s fine. He even gets along with Wonwoo, but I guess that’s because he also minors in playwriting.”

“Ah, the acting and playwriting combo. I see,” you hum. It’s not really a minor people decide on nowadays, ever since the introduction of the singing course as a potential minor. “Any significant plays I should know since he’s apparently now one of the students who I should know exists?”

“Not really, just that many suddenly sign up for his auditions to get a role.”

“Let me guess, you tried out too?”

Mingyu gives you a sheepish smile in response.

Here’s the perk of going abroad for a semester as a photography minor. You won’t have to suffer from Professor Jang’s wrath for a few months. The major, major downside of it though is the double amount of pain you’re bound to go through when you come back. You admit you may have underestimated her fury back then.

It’s not that Professor Jang is an absolutely horrible professor. The problem lies within her high standards. If even the tiniest thing doesn’t fit according to her textbook, you’re doomed to live out at least one sleepless night, desperately trying to make it up with the next assignment.

Another thing that really pisses her off is people who come late. One day, when too many students showed up to class five minutes later, she decided to take new measures. Ever since it no longer mattered if you were tardy by five seconds; once the door is closed, there’s no chance for you to attend that course. And well, she gives minus points to those who can’t fill in the attendance.

So naturally, it doesn’t help that your first course at nine every Monday morning is Professor Jang’s photography class. Seems like karma loves to give you a hard time because your coffee maker broke down at eight in the morning and you will definitely not survive the dreading course without caffeine. Your rationality has never been awake in the morning, so naturally, you prioritized getting coffee over getting to class on time.

You realize your mistake by the time the clock hit 8:45 and you’re still standing in the busy coffee shop, still waiting for your coffee to be made. At this point, you’re contemplating whether to a) ditch the coffee and make a run for it or b) ditch your very first course back at Seoul Arts and make your life even worse with Professor Jang breathing down your neck as the aftermath from this option but have your coffee. None of these options sound optimal.

So you go for option c) which is calling Mingyu in the hopes that he’d stall her. You’re not entirely sure if that’ll work out but after all the bragging and praise Mingyu gave himself for not being on Professor Jang’s blacklist, the least he could do was amount to that, right?

Yeah, that’s completely wrong. You don’t get to finish your question when Mingyu rejects you right away. “Sorry, can’t do that. You’re all on your own.”

“But I haven’t finished talking yet!”

“I bet you wanted to ask me to stall her until you’re here.”

You feverishly chew on your bottom lip. Mingyu takes your silence as a yes.

“If that’s all you called me for–”

“As if I wanted my coffee machine to break down today! This is an emergency, can’t you show any compassion? Mingyu, unless you want me to die, couldn’t you just try?”

“It’s useless with her. Jeongguk once tried to cover for Eunwoo, but that didn’t end well.”

You mumble a string of sharp profanities under your breath. If even Jeongguk can’t smooth talk his way out, there really is no other way to go. Looking back at your naive self from a year ago, you really want to laugh at yourself for believing that the photography minor would be fun.

“Y/N, I really can’t help you out this time.” you can hear the sincerity over the speaker and for a second you want to cackle because he’s really playing along (or he’s actually serious; you never quite know with him on the phone).

“If I die from Professor Jang’s wrath, feel guilty. It’s partly your fault too.”

“It’s not my fault that your coffee maker died at the wrong time!”

“One macchiato with double milk!” the barista shouts over the many other conversations amongst the customers.

“Anyway, you still have nine minutes. If you make a run for it, you might make it on time,” Mingyu suggests.

“Geez, let’s hope so,” you reply before hanging up and pushing your way through the tiny crowd. Nine minutes, right. You’re definitely able to get there in nine minutes. The café is most likely only a five-minute jog away from campus. At least, that’s what you conclude. It sounds manageable though.

The barista was about to slide the cup over to you when someone suddenly rushed to the counter. “Macchiato with double milk? I ordered that.”

You scrunch up your nose as you send the stranger a confused look. His raven black hair is strongly disheveled and you catch the sight of darker shadows under his eyes, signifying his lack of sleep. By the way his eyes frantically flicker between the barista and his watch, you conclude he must be in the same predicament as you are.

However, you doubt he has it as bad as you have it with Professor Jang.

“The other macchiato will be done in a minute or two. Please be patient,” the worker explains nervously before rushing back, leaving the cup of coffee between the two of you.

“Look–” he sighs and sends you a crooked, half-assed smile, “I’ve been working on this script all night long and need my fuel of coffee right now. The deadline is today and I really can’t afford to have any errors in it. So would you please be my lifesaver and wait for the other one?”

“As much as I’d love to be a decent human being and help those in need–” you return the tense and overly polite smile, “–I happen to be in a huge predicament right now. You see, my professor is literally going to kill me if I don’t show up on time and I really need that coffee now unless I want to fall asleep in class and get killed by her.”

“My entire grade depends on this script I have to submit today.”

“My entire university career depends on whether I appear in the course which is now in seven and a half minutes.”

“My life depends on this single–”

This conversation is never going to end, you figure, so you snatch the cup and turn to leave. Your surprise attack doesn’t go unnoticed to your dismay and before you can escape the scene, he holds your arm with a vice grip.

“Oh no, you are not getting away with my coffee!” he declares in a warning tone.

“I don’t have the time to argue with you, I have a course to attend!” you lash back.

“Then wake up earlier or get a coffee machine!”

“I have one but it gave up on me today!”

With every new sentence that is thrown into the open, your voices get louder as your hand movements grow less subtle. The grip on your arm hasn’t loosened up but you notice how he’s trying to snatch the cup away from you. At a certain point, both of you went past your point of politeness and while you’re thrashing your arm in hopes of him slipping up, he pulls you closer to get a hold of the cup. While you do care about personal space, you care more about keeping your drink and resort to stepping on his foot if it means victory.

That seemed to be the opening you were wishing for. A subtle grunt out of pain slips past his lips but it’s still loud enough for you to hear. In a swift movement, you break free from his grasp and shoot him a shamelessly gleeful smile. “Have fun waiting–”

Whatever happened next, you never expected it to boil down to this.

Somehow, he managed to grab your other arm and spins you back towards him. Well, it turns out to be that he miscalculated his strength and tugged you so harshly that the cup fell out of your hand hit his chest. Both of you stop in your tracks as you wordlessly stare at the gigantic coffee stain on his shirt. To your surprise, nobody else has caught up with your little dispute but frankly, you couldn’t care less.

The words linger on the tip of the tongue but you find it hard to spit them out. It takes you a couple attempts to form a logical sentence. “Uh, I’m sorry I swear I’ll make it up to you–”

“Another macchiato with double milk!”

Your head whips to the direction of the barista who places the cup on the counter and make out the scribbly letters written on it. Before you can even process your own movements, you tug free from his grasp once more, grab the cup and dash away in lightning speed, leaving the poor guy baffled with a huge ugly brown stain on his white shirt.

(You barely manage to get into the class on time. Sure, you garner a suspicious look from Professor Jang but she doesn’t leave any comment. At least you aren’t on her blacklist.)

“I tell you Mingyu, that guy managed to piss me off faster than Chan does.”

Mingyu’s jaw nearly drops upon hearing this. “Whoa. That's actually… possible?”

“Exactly.”

It goes without saying that Mingyu wants to know what went down at the café. He already knows that the place is crowded every morning which is why he avoids that café during the rush hours. And those happen to be pretty much whenever he doesn’t have courses.

“But you also stooped to a low level when you just ran ahead with the second order,” he points out.

“I know that,” you sigh and the realization still haunts you, six hours later, “that’s why I really want to make it up to him.”

“That’s great but, uh, how in the world are you going to find him?”

“I’m pretty sure he also goes to Seoul Arts because–” you drop your bag on the bench and bow down to tie your shoelaces, “–he said he pulled an all-nighter to finish his script that is due today. If that doesn’t sound like a Seoul Arts student then I don’t know anymore.”

“No no, your hunch was right,” Mingyu says and waits until you’re back on your feet, “if I’m not mistaken, everyone in Professor Han’s playwriting course has to hand it in until today.”

“See? I can fix the mess and regain my good conscience.”

“Even though you said he annoyed you faster than Chan?”

“There’s this thing called human decency. That poor guy has to run around with a big fat stain on his shirt and believe it or not, I feel bad.”

You continue to talk mindlessly as you search for your phone but when you look up, you see that Mingyu is no longer paying attention. A wide smile is etched on his face and you suddenly sense someone behind you coming towards your direction.

“Mingyu, have you seen Wonwoo somewhere?” he asks, his footsteps growing louder as he kicks a few pebblestones away.

“Wonwoo? Sorry, Seungcheol, I haven’t seen him but he’s usually in the auditorium. Did you already check there?”

That name rings a bell in your head. Curious to finally see whoever Seungcheol was, you turn around. However, your curiosity quickly transforms into a combination of surprise and utter dismay when he enters your vision.

“You’re the guy from this morning!” you exclaim out of the blue, earning a ‘what’ from Mingyu.

Seungcheol flinches but upon closer inspection of your face, the realization hits him too. “Great observation, you receive a gold star for that! Should I also give you a grand star for ruining my day?” his voice is dripping with sarcasm and that alone is enough for you to drop your nice act in a span of a few seconds.

“You know, I wanted to apologize properly for this morning and offer to buy you a new shirt but I think that plan just flew out of the window,” you explain in an overly sweet tone, so sweet it’s already a dangerously foul pitch.

“And I couldn’t care less about your ‘apology’,” he counters and pretty much spits out the last word, “because of your pretty stunt I had to pester two friends to help me out editing the script as well as stall the professor for a while and change my shirt. That was the hassle I went through thanks to you.”

“Boohoo you’re not the only one who has problems! I risked my head getting into Professor Jang’s class on time, so don’t act as if you were the only victim here.”

That’s when Seungcheol snaps anew. “What is wrong with you? You’re being a–”

“Great, you know each other already! But I’m going to introduce you again!” Mingyu butts in and pulls you a little farther away from him. “Y/N, Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Y/N. You’re both acting majors, isn’t that great? Cheol, Y/N here spent the last semester overseas and I already filled you in on him yesterday.”

It’s obvious that he’s connected the dots and is now trying his best to keep you both at bay. To his dismay, his attempts are futile.

“Ah, so you’re the one who got the scholarship abroad. I suppose the Board sent you away so you could improve faster and finally fulfill the standards here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you scowl.

“Seungcheol, I don’t think this is the best time to–” you clamp Mingyu’s mouth shut and take over for him, pushing him aside so you could step closer to Seungcheol.

“Listen up, just because you kicked Jin out of the throne in the acting department doesn’t mean that you get to treat the rest of us like shit.”

“I’m only rude to those who are rude to me. It’s as easy as that,” Seungcheol says matter-of-factly as if it should be obvious that this is the way Seungcheol’s mind works. But the thing that angers you far more is that he knows which triggers to pull to make you blow up. You see it in the smug smirk and the vicious twinkle in his doe eyes.

“That’s it you little–”

“Mingyu, you said auditorium, right? Thanks, man, I didn’t think of that.” he suddenly pays no attention to you and has an actual, genuine smile plastered on his lips when he turns to Mingyu and stays unbothered about you still having covered his mouth with your palm.

And just like that, he turns on his heels and leaves you standing there. Even with the string of profanities you throw at him, he doesn't turn back once. That is, up until you left a dent in his armor when you shout, "I can't wait for the day someone takes you down."

Seungcheol stops in his tracks and throws his head back. But instead of frustration or aggravation, you find complete blankness on his face. As if the words had no effect on him, he says coolly, "I won't let anyone win over me that easily. But if it helps you sleep at night, sure, believe that."

There's silence. Seungcheol takes it as his cue to leave. Once he’s out of sight, you drop your hand but keep your glare focused on the building for the acting department.

“That was Choi Seungcheol? ‘He’s really nice’– my ass,” you mimic what you quoted from Mingyu in a nasal tone and pull a grimace, blood still boiling.

“Just give him a little time. He’ll calm down.” when you give him the look that was silently asking him if Seungcheol would really calm down he hesitantly adds, “Hopefully.”

“I can’t believe he’s the one who beat Jin,” you mutter under your breath along with other more or less cohesive thoughts. Then it hit suddenly hit you. “You said he’s never ranked lower than first place, right?”

“Uh, yeah… wait a sec– oh no. No. No. I know that look. I don’t want to hear about that idea of yours.”

Mingyu looks genuinely mortified when you send him a smile – the cheeky kind of smile that indicates that you’re up to something.

“I think it’s time for him to taste defeat for the first time.”

#sfwseventeen #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen au #svt au #s:victorious #ok so i present you cheol's intro finALLY #ok the point of the intros is to establish the initial connection mc has with him #in other words: intros = the first time they meet #i'm vv happy that i managed this wc bc it's been months since i couldn't let the words flow easily #i really hope tho that mc doesn't come off too shitty but honestly #i need mc and cheol to be extremely petty c'mon they're rivals #tbh i haven't quite made up my mind about the structure of the series #only that everyone will get this long ass intro but other than that??#i might convert some of the victorious episodes into fics with my own spin on it #like tbh this was inspired by tori's and jade's first meeting lmao #bc i wanted cheol to be like jade… somewhat lksjdl #moving on to the next member i'm in the writing flow and vv happy i apologize #at 2 am but whatever i'm on holiday #yeah i really hope mc isn't too unlikeable

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jungnoir · 7 years ago

Note

Can I please request this prompt “Hi, I saw on your dating profile that the only criteria you judge potential suitors on is whether they’re a dog or cat person…?” additionally, “You’re pretty cute so I’ll give you a pass if you pick the wrong answer.” with Seokmin because he just loves dogs!!! So Much!!!

the barkchelor;

lee seokmin | “Hi, I saw on your dating profile that the only criteria you judge potential suitors on is whether they’re a dog or cat person…?” additionally, “You’re pretty cute so I’ll give you a pass if you pick the wrong answer.” | 1.8k words. | fluff, humor.

a/n: to celebrate the oh my! comeback, here’s a lil something sweet I’ve been saving! and yeah. I stole the title from a try guys video.

You didn’t consider yourself particularly “bad at dating” (could you do so without being biased? …well…). However, it became pretty clear when all the possible suitors at your job were a bust and finding someone on the weekends ended with a very superficial goal in mind that love was just…. incredibly evasive. And only for you, it seemed.

You were at a place in your life where you felt stable in everything; in fact, the only thing you could think of that was missing in your life was someone special. You liked being single because it was freeing, but you couldn’t help but long for someone’s hand in yours when you’d take a stroll on the town, couldn’t help but imagine someone’s arms wrapping around your waist while you prepared a semi-edible dinner, couldn’t help but lay awake in bed sometimes and think about how much you’d love to have someone curled up against your back fast asleep.

So, after a few drinks and a marathon of rom-coms to leave you more than a little romance-horny, you turned to a dating app.

You weren’t going to lie, the first week on there was hell.

Every single person you wanted to match with either didn’t match with you or turned out to be extremely gross when it came down to the actual “getting to know each other” part. You would dedicate at least a small part of your day to looking through profiles like your friends had recommended, but if anything, your success in finding someone even slightly your type went further down.

But, like all things, the best part can come when you least expect it. For you, it was right before you were going to delete your profile.

Most of the people you saw on here were usually mean-mugging the camera or posing far too stiffly to be realistic, so when you were met with a photo of a chocolate poodle staring right at you, big dark eyes practically begging for you to swipe right, you were puzzled. It was currently midnight, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, and you may have possibly found the best suitor on this entire app… and he wasn’t even human. Underneath the poodle’s picture was the name “Seokmin” followed by his age, “21″.

It was only when you started to click through the other pictures provided that you realized that the poodle was not Seokmin (as a much more sober and well-rested mind would have told you). “Seokmin” turned out to be a guy with a smile that lit up your phone screen and stilled you in your tracks. Dark colored hair laid neatly on top of his head, parted to the side to nicely frame his face. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a large dog laid across his lap looking like it was having the time of its life, and if you could tell anything by the faint pink lines running down the insides of his arm, that big dog must’ve been a handful. The same poodle that had caught your eye in the beginning was seated next to him in the photo, licking at one of the scratches that it might’ve had some help in causing.

Out of the six pictures he provided, only one of them was without any four-legged companions swarming him, and most of the ones that did have pups in them featured the same chocolate poodle somewhere in the background.

Eyes drifting down to his bio, you were dumbstruck again. He didn’t mention any hobbies, didn’t include a witty joke like most guys on the site, or list any of the things he was looking for in a partner except one.

Dog or cat person? Choose wisely.

You blink at the short and incredibly cryptic bio, your forehead wrinkling while your brain brims with confusion… and curiosity.

Hell. What could you lose?

Swiping right, you blink when you realize that the two of you have matched. You see the option to contact him. You know in your mind (somewhere) that you should save doing such a thing for later, but… it was midnight and you didn’t have anywhere near the patience to wait that long.

By the time you’re actually in his messages, your mind is on auto-pilot. You have a plan to send him something quickly and head to bed, probably to wake much later and delete the app when you find that even this cute but slightly strange guy is somehow, someway, a weirdo. You had long since abandoned your bad pick-up lines and jokes, the excitement and hope to find someone having died down exponentially by the time seven days had gone by. Besides, the guy had given you something to start with.

You sent:

hi, I saw on your dating profile that the only criteria you judge potential suitors on is whether they’re a dog or cat person…?

You stare at your message with the very last bit of energy you have, checking for any spelling or grammatical errors, but there is nothing to really worry about. That, or maybe you’re too tired to be able to tell. Whatever it might be, you can set your phone down and let yourself succumb to the warm caresses of sleep with ease.

Until you wake two and a half hours later, your phone vibrating against the back of your skull mercilessly.

You blearily look around the darkness of your room, thankful that it’s at least a Saturday and that you don’t have work in three and a half hours, because otherwise you might have pelted your phone across the room in annoyance.

Carefully fishing the offending device from behind your head, you hold the brightly shining phone away from your face a few inches as to not blind yourself. You realize that you hadn’t hooked it up to the charger, a habit of yours that came only when sleep captured you before you could think to do so. You try to think of the last thing you’d done to be awoken like this. That is, until you see three new messages on your screen from the dating app you were supposed to delete earlier.

Seokmin sent:

That is correct! Sorry for the late reply, I just got home from my friend’s place.

You’re pretty cute so I’ll give you a pass if you pick the wrong answer.

Were you… was he serious right now?

You push yourself up from the sheets of your bed, flipping on your lamplight to stare at the texts more closely. Sure enough, he definitely really sent you those.

A small, disbelieving laugh leaves your mouth as you think of what to say. There isn’t much to him in your mind yet. He’s a cute guy, he apparently thinks you’re cute, he seems to know a lot of dogs, and… well, that’s it. If he wasn’t so handsome and you hated dogs, you would have definitely swiped left, no questions asked.

Also, what was up with “wrong answer”?

You sent:

there’s a wrong answer? sounds pretty biased

also, it’s pretty clear which answer is correct given your affinity for the canine population

Seokmin sent:

Welllll, the question is are ~you~ a dog or cat person, not me.

Don’t mind my preference :)

You couldn’t quite fathom why you bothering to have this conversation, especially seeing as it was 2:36 a.m. for the both of you and you were as in your right mind as a rubber duck right now… that didn’t even make sense, you were so not in your right mind right now. But hey, did that stop you?

You sent:

alright, I’ll play

dog person. and this is a completely honest answer, by the way

Seokmin sent:

Could I humbly request a photo of a dog you’ve met? It would be even better if you were in the photo

You sent:

you do realize how weird you sound, right

Seokmin sent:

Hey, you’re a stranger. How do I know you’re not just lying about being a dog person to get me to like you?

You sent:

weren’t you the one who liked my profile first?

Seokmin sent:

…you have a point

So no pup photo then?

You sent:

(image.jpg)

the pup in my lap is named skittles and he’s my friend’s dog who i’ve been strategically trying to kidnap for three months

Seokmin sent:

Adorable

You sent:

ikr? he’s the sweetest

Seokmin sent:

😅 Actually, I was talking about you

but

Skittles is a runner-up for sure

You heart lightly skips in your chest at his response, your lip immediately being sucked between your teeth to nibble. Before you can think up a smart reply which might have taken you all night to formulate, Seokmin is sending something else.

Seokmin sent:

(image.jpg)

I saved this photo of me and Coco for anyone who struck my interest enough, so here you go. Consider it a thank you for your pic :)

You stare at the photo, unable to even admire the adorable poodle in his arms when he is right there. You weren’t one to be quickly drawn in by someone’s looks, but this Seokmin guy… he was an exception. Right off the bat, you’d already thought him attractive, but after having talked to him, that thought was hammered ever deeper into your sleep-deprived mind.

You sent:

Pretty handsome

Seokmin sent:

Coco?

Wait

I see what you did there 😅

You sent:

i think your smiley faces are rubbing off on me

Seokmin sent:

People say my smile in real life is contagious too

You sent:

we should test that theory one day

but first

i’d like to know more about you, mr. dog person

Seokmin sent:

Shouldn’t you be sleeping? I don’t want to keep you up…

No, perhaps a little while ago you might’ve agreed with him. You would have wished him goodnight because realistically, he’d be there in the morning when you woke up. But, maybe you were possessed, because you never felt more awake than right now.

You sent:

i’m not tired. are you?

Unlike before, Seokmin takes a while to reply. You know that you shouldn’t be upset if he’s honest and tells you he’s pooped and he’ll talk to you later, but the thought that he might makes your mood slightly deflate. You hadn’t had such a nice conversation with a guy like this in a long time, an embarrassingly long time actually. As impatient as it sounded, you weren’t very excited to let this spark of curiosity die as soon as it was ignited.

You begin to twiddle your thumbs as one minute turned into two, two turned into three, and then it happened.

Your phone vibrates in your lap.

Seokmin sent:

I couldn’t be more awake.

And hi, I’m Seokmin. It’s nice to meet you formally :)

You sent:

hi, Seokmin. I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you too :) so, besides dogs, what else are you into?

So yeah, you didn’t consider yourself particularly “bad at dating”. You considered yourself “waiting for a Seokmin to come along”, and boy was it worth it.

#sfwseventeen #write svt #seokmin scenarios #seokmin imagines #seokmin one shot #seokmin drabble #seokmin fluff #seokmin au #lee seokmin #dokyeom #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen one shot #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #seventeen au #seventeen #majwrites #sbmusings

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forevershua-blog · 7 years ago

Text

What’s Wrong

Genre: angst

Member(s): Joshua

Words count: 350

Trigger warning: none

You don’t know what’s wrong.

It was all fine, your marriage with Joshua.

You don’t know when the downfall started, you don’t know what mistake you had done, you just know he stopped talking one day.

Now it’s hard to ignore the fact that he kept “forgetting” to bring his clothes and shoes home after the days spent at his company practicing for his comeback, that his side of the bed is more often cold and untouched, or that instead of his favourite chocolate bars and fresh produces, the fridge is now stuffed with the leftovers of what you cooked for two, wishing for him to come home.

He came home one day, already too late in the night, unintentionally waking you up when he turned up the light of your shared bedroom. You were ready to tell him you watched the variety show he’s starred in on the TV two days ago, and that you cooked his favourite braised beef earlier, in case he hadn’t had dinner yet.

But you saw the tired expression on his face as he headed straight to the closet, stuffed his duffel with his clothes and you knew he wouldn’t be home for another week. You didn’t say a single word even until he was gone.

He came home few days later, when you were still at work. Almost nothing changed when you came home, no sticky notes on the fridge nor he texted you that he was home. But his mug was gone, so was his game console and his collections of CDs. You called him to ask about it. He didn’t pick up.

07.10 Tue - 17.29 (You): Joshua

07.10 Tue - 17.29 (You): Don’t you think I deserve explanation?

07.13 Fri - 19.11 (You): Am I invisible now?

12.19 Wed - 10.13 (You): They sent the paperworks to your office.

12.19 Wed - 10.13 (You): Let’s get this over with quickly.

[Please enter your new password]

[******]

[Door password change is successful]

He looks as calm as always, you thought as you see him on TV. He still has that sparkly eyes that contain mischievous glints inside, along with that calm smile you know never fail to drag people in.

He looks fine.

You still don’t know what’s wrong.

But it’s over.

#joshua hong #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #write-svt #sfwseventeen #seventeen angst #joshua angst

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chillihansol · 7 years ago

Note

When your requests open do you think you could do a friends to lovers with vernon ? ♥️ love your writing btw 😊👍🏼

+ anonymous said: #47 #17 + Vernon!

Title: Coward Lovegenre: friends to lovers, fluffword count: 1,176 words

17:“Can I hold your hand?”47:“Here’s my number. Call me.”

“Here’s my number. Call me.”

A piece of paper—torn from a packet of cigarette with messily scribbled digits written on it—is silently resting on top of the counter. You stare at it, sighing deeply. The man beside you huffs as your finger flicks the paper away. There’s no way you’ll call that guy.

“He’s kind of cute, though.” Vernon chuckles, after taking a gulp of soda.

“He’s totally not.” you deadpan, rolling your eyes and shifting on your seat to face the figure of your best friend.

He himself turns as well, knees bumping on yours, clad with denim jeans. The layers of clothing separating the skin contact is barely felt as electricity flows through your bloodstream.

Years of repressing your feelings for your best friend, yet it still exist in your heart. Every time he’s near, your heart skips a beat. Even when he does nothing but breathe, his existence is enough for your mind to create chaos and the butterflies are having a party on the pit of your stomach. It is surprising that he never notices the change in your body language whenever he props his heavy and lean arm around your shoulder, or when he comes out from your back and wraps himself on your torso, or when he calls your name once he sees your figure five meters away from him. Everyone thinks that you are in a stable relationship with Vernon, but you always reply that it’s rather a stable friendship.

He’s naturally caring when it comes to you, and it makes you wonder if he only does this because you are his important friend, or he also feels something for you.

Vernon only wants happiness for you. So here you are with him, sitting on the kitchen stools of Choi Seungcheol’s party.

Your gaze rests on the plaid pattern of his over sized button down shirt, trying to avert your focus on his slightly exposed chest. Vernon lightly taps a finger on your knee, but you refuse to look up.

“Okay,” he sighs, placing his drink on the counter. He grabs both of your hands with his bigger ones, applying pressure on the tired fields of them.

Your shoulders relax from the sensation of his fingers against your skin. “Okay what?”

“I need you to lower your standards and call that handsome guy who just gave you his number.” he says, rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

“I’m not calling Wen Junhui, okay?” you groan, throwing your head back. You hate it when Vernon attempts to set you up with guys, when you only want him and no else.

He looks perplexed from hearing the boy’s name from your lips. “You know him?”

Finally, you look at him directly, resisting the massive butterflies. His gaze is always soft, hazel brown eyes looking as innocent as ever, and he looks extra cute when he’s surprised, like now.

“He’s in my Contemporary Arts class. He probably never sees me because I always sit at the back of the room.” you tiredly explain, lids slowly shutting down.

With this, he sighs and lets go of your hand. You almost reach for them again from the lost of his touch. “You’re going to die single, Y/N.” he shakes his head, taking another drink.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to be.” he whispers, looking down at his own lap.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.” he says, coaxing the lie. “You have morning classes tomorrow, right? Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

Vernon is by your side as you walk home. The road along seems so silent, shining lights from the posts are serving as your guide with him. Dragging your heavy feet as you walk together, he has both of his hands inside of the pocket of his jeans. Your eyes keep switching between your feet and his hands every time the night breeze blows on the exposed parts of your skin.

You two walk slowly, taking your time together.

“Hey,” you call him, his head turning slightly as he hums in response. “Can I hold your hand?”

Without a word, he takes your palm with his, warmth immediately transferring on your skin. He pulls you closer to him, sharing more of his body heat with you, and intertwines his fingers.

No wonder why everyone thinks you and him are in a relationship.

As an instinct, your free hand finds its way to grasp his upper arm, leaning your temple on the corner of his broad shoulder. Vernon sighs in content and comfort, having you close, safe and sound with him. No matter how many dates or guys he tries to set you up with, there is never a time he gets afraid of the thought of someone actually succeeding. As selfish as it may sound, sometimes he wishes for the set up dates to fail, so he can have you for his own.

But he’s too afraid to risk your built friendship with him.

So he stays silent as possible.

“I heard what you said earlier.” you whisper, closing your eyes for a few seconds.

Vernon bites his lip, squeezing your hands from his grip, and rubs circles with his thumb. His hand fits perfectly with yours. “You don’t really have to be.”

“You know, you should stop trying so hard to find someone for me. It’s time for you to be happy as well.”

“No one is out there for me.” he replies, tapping and adding rhythm on your hand.

“I am.”

Vernon stops on his track, so do you. As you peel yourself from him, he spins you so you’re facing his dashing figure. He looks down at you with fond expression. There’s a spark of hope in his eyes that he wishes you can’t see.

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

Your breath hitches on your throat, palms starting to sweat. “I always do.”

“Then let’s be together.”

Right away, you turn your body to face him, eyes gazing confusedly at his own, waiting for him to claim his sentence as some kind of joke, but no hesitation builds up from him as he shows complete sincerity (while also hiding the nervousness screaming through his bloodstream) as he waits for you answer.

“Hansol, are you–”

“Hey, that’s subjective, so you have no choice. And it’s not a question for you to turn down.” his lips suddenly perks, raising an eyebrow.

You bite your bottom lip, glancing at your shoes to hide the forming blush at the apples of your cheeks. “Okay.” in a second, you squeezed his hands and get back to resting your head against him.

He chuckles beside you, then plants a soft kiss on the crown of your head, as the two silently walk, hand in hand, with the moonlight and stars shining for your hidden feelings.

You two are a bunch of cowards.

a/n: this is terrible, im so sorry.

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lxveille · 7 years ago

Text

easy as...

vernon x reader | Pt. 1 (Pt. 2)

word count: ~ 6100 warnings: none; unless slow(ish) burn counts. a/n: time travel / sci-fi, dashes of enemies-to-lovers

Hansol is a Regulator for the international chronotourism bureau. When the ICB opens a covert operation to try to shut down a cult suspected of time tampering, he finds himself caught up in something more complicated than he expected. (And moreover, caught up in you.)

The first time Hansol sees you, he thinks you belong there. Or then, as the case may be, in the bustle of autumn in nineteen-forty-five. Either way, when he spots you across the dim-lit and smoke filled bar on the rue du Montparnasse, he has a moment where he laments the fact that it is explicitly part of his job not to interfere with the temporal natives.

He doesn’t realize you don’t fit until you open up your purse to pull out a compact mirror. In the process, you place a silver pocket watch out on the table, upon which he recognizes the delicate, swirling line engraving an apple. And that changes everything about who you are in relation to his job.

Hansol watches you adjust your hair in the small mirror and clasp it shut to return to your conversation with the young woman sharing your table. He waits for what looks like a lull in your animated back-and-forth before saddling up beside the round table and asking if he could buy both of you a drink. His eyes, however, are only on you.

You raise a brow at him, an unnerving light of familiarity in the way your gaze flickers over his features.

“We were just about to head out, actually,” your company replies.

“You go ahead,” you direct to her with a small smile, “I’ll meet you at the club.” Both you and Hansol wait in a tense lack of exchanges as your acquaintance gathers her things and heads for the door. It’s far easier than Hansol thought it would be to get you away from the local you’d been chatting with. In retrospect, he’ll realize that should have been his first warning sign.

Your eyes flicker back to his with a newfound intensity and a frown on your lips. “What do you think you’re doing, Vernon?” you ask, and render him momentarily speechless. There’s no reason why an illegal time traveler -- let alone a member of Arbor -- should have any idea who he is.

The chatter of poets and drunkards and those who are both carries on as a dull buzz in the background as you pin him with an accusatory stare. He wishes he could arrest you right on the spot. But it would be too much of a production to do in the middle of a crowded bar. It would draw enough attention that it could count as interference. The exact thing Regulators like himself are meant to prevent.

“Nothing?” you prompt as his silence carries on. “Come on. Did Seungcheol send you with corrections or something? Is there a callback on the whole thing, or what?”

“Seungcheol?” he repeats at a loss. A particular shame considering his clueless repetition seems to set off some kind of revelation on your own expression.

You sit back in your chair slightly, form retreating a bit from him and astonishment settling into a quiet kind of unhappiness. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“I know you’re breaking at least three different laws of the chronotourism bureau,” he answers in clipped, hushed words.

Your slight chuckle is bitter. “You do know all about those, don’t you?” You drum your fingernails against wooden tabletop and divert your gaze once more to look around the room. “So this is how you meet me. I’d hoped you would’ve been at a different point in time.”

Hansol’s frown deeps. “You need to come with me,” he sticks to the phrases he’d learned in training.

“You know I won’t.” All the same, you are pulling on the coat that’s been slug over your lap since you first sat down. “Or you will know, I guess, that I won’t.”

He tenses when you reach into a pocket on the inside of the left breast of the coat. There are, of course, a hundred questions he wants to be asking you. All of them too dangerous, too fragile, to bring up in this setting. From the pocket, you withdraw a sealed envelope and place it on the table.

“That’s for you,” you state simply, and nudge it a little closer towards him.

“What is this?” he asks, eying the envelope suspiciously.

You’re watching a cluster of people hanging out near the entryway of the bar when you tell him, “I wish I knew. You always told me not to look.”

That’s certainly a red flag, in case anything else you had said or done thus far hadn’t already been. It could also be a lie, he tells himself. An incredibly tricky ruse just to try to through him off and keep him from arresting you. If that’s the case, it seems it must be working, given that he’s still staring agape at the paper on the table when you stand up.

“Wait,” he tries to command, but well-rehearsed authority is missing from his tone.

“Look, I’d love to stick around and catch up. Or down, or however these things work, but I don’t really think I can,” you reply swiftly. With that, you make your way hastily over to the small crowd leaving the bar.

Hansol doesn’t have to follow after you to know what’s happening. You’re intentionally leaving with a whole group of temporal natives just to keep him from causing a scene stopping you. He tries to swallow the lump in this throat, but it lingers even after the last of the people you’d left with are out of sight. The truth is he’d be in more trouble for breaking noninterference procedures than for letting a potential tamperer go freely.

His hand falls on top of the envelope.

Whatever is inside, he can’t open it here.

It’s raining in the present. Usually when he’s waiting in a passenger lounge like this he’ll be mulling over the fact that there’s still nothing better than hypersonic air travel for moving around the Earth when he can get from now to hundreds of years ago in an instant. Instead, he’s staring a sealed envelope. There’s no address nor stamp. It’s probably a good idea to wait, to deliver it to Jihoon when he gets back to the bureau’s headquarters and see what he’ll make of it.

Something in the look he recalls on your face when you’d given it to him makes Hansol cave to the temptation to do otherwise. Or maybe the air of genuineness that there had been in your voice when you insisted not to know what was inside either. He slips a finger into the top left corner of the seal and pulls.

The paper rips, and at first it seems empty inside. A glance reveals nothing more than the plain, white inside of envelope. He has to pull it open a little further to find the contents. A single strip of photo paper.

He pulls it out cautiously. Like the colors printed on the instant film might somehow be poisonous to touch, his fingertips hold as close to the plain border as he can possibly manage. Still, when he has the photostrip properly in front of him, there’s a smudge of his thumb’s print on the corner of one of the pictures. But that is the last thing Hansol will notice.

More pressing is what he sees in the pictures. There’s four different shots, one on top of the other and seemingly in chronological order from the top down. In each one, he recognizes himself beside you. In the first, you’re both smiling, though he thinks his own looks a bit hesitant somehow. In the next, your head is turned slightly, your eyes upon his profile and a subtler grin upon your lips. The third shows he’s turned his head as well to meet your gaze, and everything in his composure is more relaxed. In the fourth ---

Hansol shouldn’t be seeing this. This breaks the laws of non-interference. This could end his entire career if anyone were to know he was looking at pictures of something he hasn’t yet experienced.

In the last photo of the set, there’s no space left between the two of you. In the stillness of the captured moment, there’s no way to tell who kissed who. But you both have your eyes closed.

He slams the strip of pictures face down on to the low table in front of him. As if looking away will prevent him from having the image burn in his memory from now on. When his hand slips away, he notices the message in permanent marker on the back of the photobooth paper. In a handwriting Hansol recognizes as his own, it reads:

Take the Arbor infiltration position.

Protocol says Hansol should report this anomaly immediately upon return to ICB HQ. There’s nothing wrong with happening upon notes you’ve left for yourself, unless of course the note hasn’t yet been written from your perspective of time. Then it becomes a symptom of a potential time loop. Or worse, a full-blown paradox that could dismantle the forward-steam of time for civilization as a whole. Preventing these kinds of catastrophes is exactly why the International Chronotourism Bureau was invented.

Which means the way Hansol makes no mention of you or the note a fireable offense.

It isn’t a difficult violation to pull off. Jihoon doesn’t probe for endless details during debriefs the way he did when Hansol first joined the bureau. Nowadays he just asks if everything was as expected and carries on directly with the physical check-in.

And this time, as Jihoon’s shining a light in his eyes to check for any detrimental effects from time travel, he’s too busy telling Hansol all about a concert he went to the night before to come anywhere near to finding out what’s being hidden.

“Almost a shame you can’t use your device to go back to yesterday and go with me,” Jihoon comments with an upwards slant to his lips. But that would be against the rules, they both know.

Hansol gives a slight chuckle despite the nervous thrum in his chest. “Almost,” he concurs. And he wonders if that’s the kind of misuse of time travel for personal enjoyment that you would indulge in. It doesn’t seem farfetched. The thought nearly makes him clear his throat and tell Jihoon that something entirely unexpected had happened in Paris, 1945.

Nearly, but not enough.

On his walk come from HQ, he cuts through the park as usual. By one of the walkways, there’s a plastic table set up with various brochures set out on top of it. Hanging from the table is a banner reading ‘Arbor: discover the nefarious truth of our times today’. Standing in front of the table are two presumable members of Arbor in matching t-shirt: a lanky man with sunglasses on the bridge of his nose that don’t make him look particularly friendly, and a girl with her hair set in loose waves and a bright smile on her face as she tries to convince passersby to stop for at least a minute.

Last week there had been a group from some church set up there with open invitations to attend one of their sermons. So it’s not entirely surprising that there’s a doomsday cult here now.

Hansol must have been glancing for too long, because the smiling young woman has set her eyes upon him. She takes a half-step towards where he is on the pavement and asks, in a tone far too chipper for her words, “Would you be interested in hearing about how we’ve set ourselves on the course for the collapse of society?”

He glances towards the name tag stuck on her shirt and wonders if Yuqi would recognize you from the photostrip tucked into his backpack. He tells her he’s sorry, that he’s got somewhere to be, and hurries up his pace.

Two weeks later there’s an emergency meeting called at the ICB. Joshua had returned from the 1700s with a report of spotting an Arbor member; he’d already heard that much from Eunwoo by the coffee maker on Tuesday morning. The meeting agenda only says that there will be discussions of how to proceed in dealing with the repeated violations tied to the group. Hansol already suspects he knows what’s going to be proposed.

The meeting starts with a debriefing on what they already know about Arbor. Which of course isn’t much. They’re known to the public as a collective preaching about how the world is currently doomed. And about how the one way to save us all is something only they know, but also something they’ll only tell those within their ranks.

ICB speculation is that their solution is temporal relocation. It would explain why individuals with their insignia have been spotted with increasing frequency across all eras. It doesn’t seem illogical either. If you think the end is nigh, it would make sense to go back and to live out your remaining years some time safer.

“What we need,” the directing officer says, “is direct evidence that Arbor itself is behind the illegal travel. At the moment we can’t go after them directly without risking a claim that it’s... just hearsay or mistaken sightings of their logo by our Regulators.” He goes on to explain the plan is to have one of their Regulators who hasn’t yet encountered any members of Arbor while on the job go undercover to obtain the proof that they need. Hansol’s shoulders tense, and the image of his own handwriting flashes in the front of his mind.

He raises his hand as soon as the floor is opened.

“I saw a couple scouters for Arbor in the park the other day,” Hansol recalls, “One of them tried to get me to stop and hear their whole recruitment pitch. So... It’s not like it’ll be hard to get someone in considering there seems to be a pretty open invitation.”

“Exactly.” The wheels can already be seen turning in the officer’s head. “If they recognize you -- if they think you might be interested already, that could give us a good opportunity, Hansol.”

The reluctance the comes across his face is genuine.

“We’ll discuss it further. Nothing’s finalized yet. But maybe hear whatever they have to say the next time something like that happens.”

Jihoon raises his hand next, with a technical question about the legality of whatever evidence the operation will bring in. And so the spotlight falls away from Hansol, and the question who will actually be carrying out the mission falls to the sidelines for the remainder of the meeting.

The next morning, Eunwoo asks him if he’s going to take the position while stirring milk into her mug of coffee. He answers -- or doesn’t, rather, -- by asking how she even knows it’s been offered to him. “We both know how things run here. They’re gonna go with the most straightforward option. If you didn’t wanna get roped in, you should’ve known better than to mention you had any kind of experience with Arbor now at all,” she reasons. It’s a relief that she sounds like she’s giving an obvious warning. The last thing he wants is for her to know just how aware of these facts he really is.

“Well, I’m considering it,” Hansol admits. “Do you think it’s a bad idea...?”

Eunwoo shrugs one shoulder and brings her mug towards her lips. “I work Risk Assessment,” she reminds him offhandedly, “It’s my job to see everything as a potential bad idea.”

“All the better to ask your professional opinion then, right?”

“Professionally? The department gave the plan an okay, so there’s that.”

The steady stream of coffee out the machine stops, and Hansol pulls his mug out to his own milk. “What about your personal opinion?”

“Personally, I try not to get involved with cults.”

Yuqi isn’t in the park the next time the Arbor recruitment table is set up. Neither are you. But Hansol recognizes the same guy from a week before, so he supposes there might be a chance he’s off to a good start. He’s decided to trust himself. To trust the judgement of his directing officer and to go with Eunwoo’s professional opinion over her personal one.

He approaches the table, decorated with the same layout of information and the same banner tied to its front legs as before. The guy sitting behind it in a dark gray third with Arbor’s insignia on it looks up from his phone with sincere surprise on his face. It must not be common occurrence for individuals to choose to stop without any prompting on the scouters behalf.

For all the debriefing he’d received, no one had told him exactly how to strike up a conversation with a member of a cult and a potential criminal. Somehow starting with just hello doesn’t seem to quite fit the gravity of the situation. But that’s all he manages to come up with.

“Hi,” the guy replies, pushing sunglasses down his nose a bit to get a clearer view of Hansol. The tag he has stuck on the shirt reads Minghao in wide-spaced handwriting. “You interested in hearing about how we’ve set ourselves on the course for the collapse of society and general destruction of the world?” Somehow, this Minghao sounds half like he can’t believe his own words.

“Yeah.”

He must have stuttered over the word, because Minghao furrows he brow skeptically at the simply reply. But there’s no shooing or questioning of intentions. Roughly fifteen minutes later, Hansol is walking away with a brochure and a whole mess of vague information echoing inside his head.

Science has been tampering with the natural order of things. Everything is bound to unravel with the way things have currently been decided upon. There are negative effects waiting just around the corner, and by the time society at large realizes what they are, it will be too late. Most emphasized of all is that there’s no simple, one-step solution. It can be undone, but it will take a mass effort and full dedication from anyone contributing to the cause. Call today if you’re interested in joining the project to save humanity and the world.

He sends a text to say that first contact had gone as planned, and then he dials the number at the bottom of the glossy brochure paper.

Minghao meets him at the door to the Arbor building. It’s nicer than Hansol had expected it to be. It’s not clear how, exactly, a low-level cult manages to have the funds to afford rent in a building this large in this part of town. It’s also not his concern, unless they happen to be siphoning funds from another era.

“Vernon, right?” Minghao greets. He stills has an odd air of being incredulous that even he is involved with Arbor.

“That’s me,” Hansol replies, and hopes it doesn’t sound too obviously like a lie. If it does, Minghao makes no show of it, and gets straight on with ushering him into the building to begin the tour.

As they walk the halls, Minghao elaborates a bit more on Arbor’s whole philosophy. Time travel, they’ve decided, is too dangerous a tool for humanity. Even with all the laws and careful protocols in order to avoid changing things, it will inevitably be the downfall of civilization. He goes on about the history of several different inventions throughout all of time, small to significant, that evolved into something more. Something lethal.

What remains unclear, even as the small tour drags on, is how exactly Arbor plans to stop the use of time travel. Or how they’ve managed to become so convinced of this doomsday Minghao keeps alluding to that is tied to time travel specifically.

“So... Why Arbor?” Hansol asks as Minghao has finished up showing him the cafeteria on the building’s third floor.

Minghao pauses. “You know of any other groups that are doing anything to stop it?”

“No, no. Not that. I mean... Why the name?”

Realization dawns on Minghao’s expression. He picks up his long strides again, heading towards the stairs again. “Are you familiar with Christian mythos as all?”

“I guess.”

“Adam and Eve?”

“Sure.”

“The apple wasn’t supposed to be eaten, right?” Minghao starts down the steps, footfalls echoing in the stairwell. “But it was. And some people would still eat apples even if every individual apple was a sin to eat. So, how do you stop it?”

Hansol stares at the back of Minghao’s neck as he trails after him. “Get rid of apples, I guess.”

“Sure.” Minghao turns when he reaches a landing to face Hansol again. “But it’s hard to get rid of something once it’s out there. The only real way would be to go back, get rid of the very first apple. Burn the arbor.”

“Doesn’t that mean you’re, like... named after what you want to get rid of?” Hansol questions as the pieces of the explanation come together inside his head.

“Destroying the need for Arbor is part of the goal.” There’s a wave of one of Minghao’s hands as he leads him back down a hallway on the second floor. “We can’t get rid of time travel without using it ourselves.”

With that, Minghao opens a door into a room filled with shelves of temporal devices. Most of them are small, more modern version. Meant to look like something discreet. Almost all of them have Arbor’s insignia somewhere on them. On one of the display cushions, Hansol recognizes a silver pocket watch.

“Do you understand, Vernon?” Minghao asks.

“Not... entirely...” he answers honestly.

“Good.” Minghao gives a nod. “You shouldn’t yet. But you will. So -- welcome to Arbor.”

Eunwoo meets Hansol at a cafe three days later. She’s dressed more casually than Hansol has ever seen before. If nothing else, there’s the marked difference of her not wearing a lanyard with her bureau ID card hanging off of it. It makes sense, he supposes. It doesn’t do much to avoid risk being seen going into the ICB building only to be spotted with an obvious ICB employee.

He quietly recounts to her everything that happened at his ‘initiation’, as it was. Eunwoo frowns. “It was that easy? They didn’t have a million questions? Didn’t try to scope out if you’re actually open to the cause?”

“I kind of got the impression that they’re used to their whole opening claim driving away anyone who wouldn’t be open to it.”

She hums and takes another sip of tea. “It’s a dangerous assumption for them to make. Lucky for us, though.”

Hansol shrugs. “I guess they don’t have Risk Assessment.”

That brings a small, satisfied smile to Eunwoo’s face. “Lucky for you.” The chimes hanging over the door sound, and she glances over her shoulder to check who has just come in. When she faces Hansol again, he shrugs. It’s not a face he recognizes from Arbor. So she continues, “All that talk and they didn’t tell you why they’re so convinced time travel needs to be eradicated?”

“Nothing concrete,” he confirms. “I’m pretty sure they have something they haven’t yet told me about that, though. The guy that showed me around didn’t exactly strike me as the type who’d run with something this extreme on a vague hunch.”

“Careful with impressions.” Eunwoo taps one fingernail against the handle of her teacup. “Cults try to put their more reasonable seeming on the front lines. It’s part of how they make people unreasonable.”

“Fair enough.” He pauses, looking down into his own mug for a moment. “Here’s what’s not clear about the whole ‘burn the arbor’ philosophy to me. If their only goal is to use temporal devices to go back and get rid of their invention, what are Arbor agents doing in the 1700s?”

“That’s why we’ve got you in there, isn’t it?” she points out.

Hansol is back at Arbor only a few days later. It’s not clear if it’s an official thing that Minghao’s taken him under his wing, but once again that’s who calls him and who meets him at the door. Hansol almost considers asking whether or not people are allowed to freely come and go or if it is by invitation only that he can show up. He reconsiders the question. He doesn’t want to come off as too eager to be left unsupervised in their building.

“So you’re still in, huh?” Minghao breaks the silence that followed their brief salutations.

“I am,” he confirms, glancing around the halls he’s being led through. They’re almost entirely bare, and painted a light gray color that makes Hansol think of fog. By all reasoning, the building is unremarkable.

“Well, we’re gonna need to do a test run before you can really get into anything.”

Eunwoo’s smile at how little security or assessment Arbor appeared to have flashes to the front of his mind. He hopes things aren’t about to go sideways; hopes he hadn’t spoken to soon on what it takes to officially join. “...A test of what?” Hansol asks. More uncertainty than he wants to let show seeps into his tone.

Whatever Minghao is about to say is interrupted by a sudden burst of noise down the hall. Not noise, but laughter. Minghao tilts his body to see past Hansol at the commotion, dark hair falling over his eyes. Curious and perhaps a dash anxious -- despite already recognizing it as laughing -- Hansol pivots to see down the corridor.

His mouth dries out. The nervousness spikes again inside of him. There you are, leaning against the wall and gripping at your stomach as you cackle over something with another woman. She’s got a hand on your wrist, as if using you for support. Both of you look like you’ve just come out of nowhere in a rush.

Your hair is longer than it was when he first saw you. Longer than it is in the photostrip still carefully tucked away back in his apartment. Minghao shouts out two names, drawing both your and your colleague’s attention.

“Sorry!” you call back. You stand up straight, grinning like uttering the apology is only a formality. “You had to be there,” you add, glancing back to the other beside you; you both shudder with a suppressed second round of laughter. You look back their way, and Hansol feels a compulsion to try to hide himself when your gaze falls upon him. At least until he notes the complete lack of recognition on your expression.

“Are you the new guy?” The brunette beside you asks, starting down the hallway towards the two of you. It unnerves him a bit that there’s been cult gossip about him. Then again, it might be a sign of how few recruits they really have.

Minghao nods on his behalf. “This is Vernon,” he provides the introductions, “Vernon -- Miyeon.”

Miyeon smiles and offers her hand. By now, Hansol’s already figured out your name by process of elimination from earlier. Still, it strikes him somehow as different when you say it yourself while taking his hand. “We’re happy to have you on board, Vernon,” you say.

Your tone is entirely different from what he remembers. No edge or subdued panic. Not even a hint of restraint or suspicion. It leaves him immediately with a sense that this is closer to who you are. Who you’ll be in that photobooth.

“Glad to be here,” he manages to get out before the silence hangs for too long in the air.

“All clear then?” Miyeon glances between Minghao and Hansol.

Minghao gives a quick shake of his head. “I was just about to take him on a trial run.” That unanswered question crashes back on Hansol with an unpleasant tightening in his gut.

“You make it sound like a big deal, Hao,” you comment, tisking your tongue at him as if in reprimand. Your sights fall back on to Hansol with your expression shifting back to a welcoming smile. “You’ll be fine.”

“-- Unless you experience temporal displacement anxiety,” Miyeon cuts in.

“Or nausea,” you add with a curt nod. “But barring that, you’ll be fine!”

Minghao hands Hansol a temporal device off the wall. It’s formatted to look like a wristwatch. On the back of the face, there’s an engraving that he recognizes in the gold. The same intricate, swirling design of an apple that serves as Arbor’s symbol. He makes no remark, and carries on with fastening the device around his wrist.

“Have you ever gone back before?” Minghao asks, “Tourism or anything like that?”

“Once or twice,” Hansol lies without a flinch.

A nod, and then, “Well, we’re gonna be going back just hundred years or so to see how you do.” Minghao leans over to set Hansol’s device, the same way chronoguides would do for those in their groups. Except Minghao actually explains the details of what every button does and the basics of how the device works.

Hansol peppers in a few inquiries once he remembers he’s not supposed to know all this information already.

Then they go.

Minghao has a checklist of questions memorized that he asks Hansol once they’re both soundly back a few hundred years. The basics of how are you feeling and can you walk a straight line, but he also asks him to recite back his birth year and the year they’d come from.

At the end of it, Minghao nods. The last question is simply, “How do you get back?”

For a moment, Hansol panics. Tries to remember if Minghao had explained those settings on the device or not. As practical as he can recognize the question as being, there’s no denying the fear that it could also be a trick question. Minghao eyes him over, making no indication of what was on his mind as he waited for Hansol to say or do something.

Finally, he bends his arm to look at the temporal device, and slowly begins to press at the buttons along the side of the watch face. Minghao steps closer to see what he’d doing exactly. No hums of confirmation. No interruptions.

When all the settings are in, Hansol stops to look up at Minghao.

“Is that right...?” he asks. He sounds nervous. He hopes Minghao will think it’s about being wrong rather than being caught.

“One way to find out.”

With the press of a button, Hansol is brought back to the present. Minghao is not far behind.

In the days that follow, Hansol lays low. It doesn’t seem like Arbor is suspicious, or looking into him any further than the small, practical run he’d done with Minghao. But then again, if they were going to be any good at it, he wouldn’t know in the first place. He texts Eunwoo that he thinks their next meet-up will have to be pushed back.

She replies that she’ll need an explanation why once he thinks it’s clear.

It’s nice to know that ICB trusts his judgement enough not to push back on it. Nonetheless, it pales in comparison to the undercurrent of nerves as he does his best to seem inconspicuous over the cover week.

He gets a call on a Thursday afternoon from Minghao. He asks if Vernon is ready to go on his first mission for Arbor. The answer is yes only because it has to be. If you asked Hansol if he was ready, it certainly would have been a very different reply.

On Friday morning, he falters when it isn’t Minghao that greets him, but you.

“Good to see you’re a show-up-on-time kinda guy,” you say, leaning back against the open door to let him in. “Or even a show up at all one.”

“Do most people not show up?” Hansol asks with a careful measure of intrigue.

You shrug and step away from the door to let it close behind the two of you. “Some people think they’re in until it actually comes time to really do something. I guess still could back out. But you’re on the right track.” In theory, it’s a serious thing. Yet you sound entirely unbothered by the difficulties Arbor faces.

“I guess I’d rather help prevent the world from ending...” And it must sound convincing enough, because he spots your smile growing on your lips. “Can I ask where Minghao is?”

“Can you? Gosh, you’re not comfortable here at all yet, are you?” A slight laugh of amusement follows your words. “He had something else to take care of today. So you’re stuck with me for your first task.”

Hansol smiles, starts blurting out reassurances that it’s okay before he can double think it. You lead him towards the stairs with a grin. Somehow, he ends up finishing by asking if you know what the mission is. Because he certainly doesn’t.

You nod and hum as the two of you head up to the second floor. “I’ll make sure you’re crystal clear on it all before we go anywhere. We are gonna have to travel in the now in order to be in the right place for it. So I hope you’re alright with that.”

“We’re gonna travel with temporal devices?” Hansol’s brow furrows. It’s not like just anyone is meant to have them. “How are we supposed to get through security?” He asks as he follows you into the now-familiar storage room of devices in question.

Turning to face him, you cross your arms. “...You haven’t met Seungcheol yet, have you?”

It’s not clear where that question has come from. And for a moment, Hansol doesn’t even recognize the name. It takes a moment for him to recall that as the name you’d mentioned in that bar in nineteen-forty-five. Another on top of that to shake his head, realizing that he shouldn’t know the name yet.

“Ah. Hmm.” From those two sounds alone, it seems like you aren’t sure what to make of this revelation. Hansol’s eyes never leave you while you pull the same wrist-watch device for him from the collection and approach to hand it over. “Well, I’m sure you will meet him soon enough. He can explain it better than I can -- but you don’t have to worry about anyone in this time detective this device for what it is.” You reach into a pock and pull out the silver pocket watch. “I’ve never had any problem with this one. You won’t have any trouble with that.”

He swallows a lump of doubt and suspicion. Now this is certainly something he’ll have to tell Eunwoo about. If Arbor has a way of masking temporal devices from detection by normal means, that’ll make stopping all of their agents more difficult. Unless he can manage to get a full roster.

“So, what is it were going to be doing?”

The debrief that follows leaves Hansol almost speechless. First, the two of you will have to head out to California. Then, head back to the late nineteen-sixties to stop a budding writer from dropping acid at a party. You explain it all with an airiness and a smile that would be better suited for describing casual weekend plans rather than a plot to alter some part of the past.

“That’s… it?” he asks skeptically.

You nod, smiling in the face of his evident doubt. “He gets high that night, he has a weird trip and writes about how cool it would be to travel back in time. He doesn’t… And we get Arbor a little closer to the goal.”

“It doesn’t sound like much of a contribution.”

You laugh. “Don’t get down. It’s only your first mission. It’s good to start small. And you’ll have me, so it’ll be easy as apple pie.”

He remembers Minghao explaining the philosophy behind Arbor’s name. Get rid of the very first apple. Burn the arbor. If you eliminate the existence of apples, you do away with the existence of apple pie, too.

A heavy stone of realization settles in his gut. Arbor isn’t out to stop the invention of time travel; they’re trying to erase the very concept of time travel from human history. And figuring out just how far along they are in that goal will be nearly impossible to figure out without someone inside opening up more to him. Or until it’s too late.

Hansol is jolted out of his thoughts by your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice has changed to something more soothing; your relaxed mirth replaced by a more serious consideration for him. Your eyes lock with his, and he finds the tension in his muscles easing without reason. “It’s alright if your nervous. I mean it when I’ll say I’ll help. I promise you’ll be fine.”

Some inexplicable instinct has him believing you.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #vernon scenarios #sfwseventeen #svt fanfic #so i decided to split this into two parts and uhhh #here's the first one !! i guess !

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hungline · 6 years ago

Note

happy pride month 🏳‍🌈 + gyuhaoxjun

knowing when it’s right

pairings: jungyuhao, minor seokhoon genre: fluff, friends to lovers au, rated t warnings: mentions of a threesome a/n: happy pride month! it’s almost over and i still have a few of these left :(words: 345

summary: Junhui is oblivious, but he is definitely not as bad as Jihoon when it comes to feelings, no matter what Mingyu and Minghao claim.

+ tag list: @dimplemono @kirtikagarg @disrespectfulkookies @ksjinandtonic ✨

“Is this a date?” Junhui asks.

Mingyu and Minghao exchange gazes before looking back at him, their dark brown eyes imploring him to speak more.

Junhui hesitates. “It’s just that… You two are being a lot more touchy with me than usual. I mean, if this isn’t a date and just a way for you guys to have a threesome with me, I’m going to make it clear that isn’t what I want.”

“What do you want?” Minghao asks him, head tipping to the side as he raises a brow at him. “Tell us.”

“You,” Junhui blurts, blushing a dark red. “Both of you.”

Mingyu laughs. “Then why no threesome?”

Junhui averts his gaze, hands twisting together in his lap. He says nothing though and Minghao decides to repeat Mingyu’s question, wondering if it’ll make any difference that they are both asking.

“Why no threesome, Jun?”

“Because,” Junhui sighs, looking down at his fingers instead of the two men in front of him. “I like you guys. In a more than friends kind of way. I don’t want just sex from you.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing neither of us wants just sex from you either,” Minghao replies steadily, both of his brows raised now.

Junhui chances a look up and smiles when he catches a glimpse of the stupid grin on Mingyu’s face. “Was this fun for both of you? Watching me squirm because of feelings?”

“Yes,” Mingyu says unabashedly. “You’re just as bad as Jihoon when it comes to feelings. That’s why it took forever for him and Seokmin to get together.”

“Shut up, I am not,” Junhui pouts.

Minghao smiles causing the edges of his mouth to curl up into his cheeks and melt Junhui’s heart simultaneously. “You’re definitely worse than Jihoon. Also, yes this is a date. It’s actually our fifth date with you.”

Junhui sputters but shuts up immediately when Mingyu kisses him softly. Minghao is there as soon as Mingyu has pulled away and Junhui spends the rest of the night sharing kisses with his two new boyfriends.

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chilligyu · 6 years ago

Text

info: kim mingyu/reader (feat ot13), teen, f2l genre: fluff, romance | word ct: 5k warnings: mentions of devils lettuce summary: she never feared change, not once. not until change meant that her childhood best friend was slowly turning into her first love. note: @mingtiddies thank you for always validating me, so here have part one of a potentially five part series. and thanks to the usual suspects, @dimp1ejoon, @dreamystuffers, and @e-therealepiphany for lending a helping hand. warnings will adjust in later parts!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Every day begins and ends with change. At least that’s what her father used to say when she was growing up. And if she was being completely honest she had no idea what he meant by that. Still, it was a nice sentiment, and it meant that change had never been scary for her. In fact, she welcomed it with open arms. Change wasn’t always good but it was necessary, because every day would begin and end with it.

For years there had been one resolute constant in her life, one thing that hadn’t changed. His name was Mingyu and he was her very best friend in the whole wide world. They grew up just a stone’s throw away from each other, walked to school every single day, and spent almost every single second together. It would be hard to imagine one without the other, they were kindred spirits, partners in crime, tied together by mischief and laughter.

Which was why it was so heartbreaking when he moved away.

That was the first time that she ever really hated change because suddenly she lost her movie buddy, her sous chef, her trauma surgeon, and so much more. Her dad kept reminding her that it was just another part of life, that those sorts of things happen for a reason but she didn’t care. Saying goodbye to her best friend was probably the hardest thing she ever had to do. They held each other in her driveway and cried for what seemed like hours until their parents finally tore them apart. For those two it felt like their whole world was coming to an end. Neither had dreamed of being without the other.

Despite the distance they still kept in touch. Every week she would get a letter or an email from Mingyu detailing his new life, filling her in on the things she always used to know. Sometimes he would surprise her with a phone call, sometimes they would even Skype. None of which felt like enough to her. It was a hard transition, from constant contact to fleeting moments shared across a country, but they made it work. They continued on with their lives, the one thing that they never imagined would be separated, and never admitted how much they wanted more.

Eventually all of their waiting would pay off.

After spending the majority of their high school years hundreds of miles apart, Mingyu was finally coming home. His father was being transferred back to Anyang-si just in time for their senior year and she was beyond ecstatic. In the week leading up to his arrival she made sure she had all of their favorite movies, his favorite snacks, and her mother was even making kalbi to celebrate the occasion. She wanted everything to be perfect when he walked in through that door and wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

“You’re insane.” Hansol said plainly as he watched her dart around her room like a banshee. “It’s just Mingyu, you know he’s going to be so happy to see you again that he’s not going to give a damn about anything else.”

“Just because he won’t care doesn’t mean that I don’t care.” She returned, sticking her tongue out at him while she arranged and rearranged everything within sight. “And I won’t let your negative energy drag me down.”

Seungcheol nodded in approval. “I agree with her. Stop being an ass, Hansol.”

“How am I being an ass!” He protested loudly. “I’m just saying—”

“And what you’re saying makes you sound like an ass.” Seungcheol interrupted, launching a pillow across the room. “Let her have her moment. She knows Mingyu best so if she thinks that he’s going to love this little party then he’s going to love this little party.”

“Thank you, Cheol.” She beamed. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to go hide his presents.”

Hansol scoffed quietly. “Of course she got him—”

She didn’t see how Seungcheol got him to shut up, but she assumed that the aforementioned pillow was involved.

Downstairs the rest of their friends were getting everything ready. She forgot how popular Mingyu was before he moved, which was hard to imagine while watching the dozen boys clutter up her parents tiny two bedroom apartment. A part of her felt guilty for subjecting them to such a surprisingly large gathering. But they didn’t mind, they had been friends with Mingyu’s parents just as long as she’d been friends with Mingyu. They were almost as excited as she was. Almost.

When the final hour approached, she honestly didn’t know what to do with herself. Instead of waiting patiently like everyone else she somehow found herself reorganizing everything in the fridge by food group. And then organizing them again alphabetically. When she moved on to trying to rearrange their cereals by color—they knew it was bad. The others looked on with apprehension but didn’t do anything. They knew not to disturb her no matter how much they wanted to.

She was, in a word, nervous. Even though they had kept in touch all those years, she didn’t know what to expect from her long lost friend. Maybe he wasn’t the same little boy that used to curl up with her on the couch, maybe he didn’t like spicy food anymore, maybe he suddenly hated all of the things they used to love and the whole party was going to be a bust. Maybe—maybe he wasn’t Mingyu at all. Maybe he was a simulacrum sent to replace him and slowly brainwash her until she could be replaced by yet another simulacrum and their whole world was coming to an end—

“Breathe.” Jeonghan reminded once again, a reassuring hand on her back. “Everything’s going to be fine. He couldn’t have changed that much, y’know?”

Realistically she knew that he was right, but her heart was still racing. “But—what if he has?”

“I bet he’s still that little goofball that we all know and love.” Jisoo continued. “He’s probably worried about the same things you are! It’s only natural.”

Hesitantly, she nodded. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just freaking myself out at this point.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all week.” Hansol interjected. “You’re out of your—”

“Shut up, Hansol.” Eleven boys said in near unison.

“Don’t listen to him.” Jisoo smiled brightly. “He’s just jealous that you didn’t make this big of a deal for his birthday last year.”

“I am not—!”

Armed with the pillow of silence, Seungcheol took care of him once again.

“Thanks guys.” She exhaled. “I honestly don’t think I’d be this put together if you weren’t all here.”

“Where else would we be?” Chan chimed in. “Your mom makes the best kalbi.”

She laughed quietly. “Thanks for the support, Chan.”

“Anytime.” He returned with a smile.

For a brief moment she almost felt at ease, Soonyoung was very quick to ply her with strawberry milk every time she started to feel antsy again. Jihoon was helping her mom cook, Wonwoo was having a lengthy philosophical debate with her dad, Seungkwan was trying to get a game of charades started for some reason, even Minghao was doing his best to monitor everyone as the self-appointed coaster police. Things seemed to be winding down.

Which she should’ve realized was just the calm before the storm.

“Look alive people! He’s here!” Seokmin suddenly shouted. “Battle stations everyone!”

Junhui elbowed him in the ribs. “Jesus Christ we’re not at war, stop yelling, your humor isn’t helping the situation.”

Casting a glance at her, Seokmin quickly ducked his head and left the room. “I didn’t say anything!”

She was, in another word, panicking. Whatever sort of calm she felt was immediately replaced by her skyrocketing blood pressure. Mingyu, her Mingyu, was just outside her front door. Someone who literally meant the whole world to her, someone she could talk to about anything, someone who could’ve easily become a stranger in their years apart. Someone she couldn’t risk losing.

Ding.

Her heart felt like a sledgehammer against her ribs as Jeonghan ushered her towards the door. She could feel her heels grinding into the carpet, putting off the very moment she had been anticipating for years. Somehow meeting him again was scarier than saying goodbye. She didn’t think it was possible and yet there she was, teeth practically chattering.

“You can do this.” Her mom reassured her. “It’s just Mingyu, if you open that door I promise you that everything will be fine.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she knew that she couldn’t stave off the inevitable forever. No matter how much it terrified her. She had to trust that 17 year old Mingyu and 13 year old Mingyu were not that different. She had to. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the handle and turned it slowly. More slowly that many thought physically possible. Then the door opened and—

Her heart stopped.

Standing in front of her wasn’t the scrawny little kid she used to race bikes with down the street. And it most certainly wasn’t the brat that climbed on top of counters to reach the top shelf. The boy that had to style his hair to get on rides at the carnival, the boy that got asked “where’s your mother?” more times than she could count, the boy that thought striped shirts and plaid pants was high fashion, was nowhere to be found.

Instead she found herself face to face with a handsome giant that easily dwarfed her, wearing a tight fitting turtleneck and a blazer that screamed “Clive, I’d like to take the helicopter today.” Her eyes scanned every inch of him, trying to find some semblance of familiarity in the giant’s chiselled face but she couldn’t find any. Whoever that man was, it wasn’t her Mingyu.

Except it was.

“I can’t believe it!” He exclaimed in a much deeper voice than she remembered, bending at the knees so he could wrap his arms around her and lifted her into the air. “You haven’t changed one bit!”

Well you most certainly have!

While he twirled her around in circles she felt like she was having an out of body experience. She couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Mingyu in Busan because the little kid that she knew and loved wouldn’t have been able to pick her up in a million years. She used to be able to pick him up. Feeling his strong arms around her she could hardly remember those moments.

“Damn.” Seungcheol whistled. “What do they feed you out there? Miracle grow?”

Chuckling, Mingyu stopped twirling and put her down. “I know, I had a bit of a growth spurt. I didn’t think it was that drastic.”

“Not that drastic?” Junhui scoffed from the doorway. “You were a little runt before you left, now I’m sure that you’re the tallest one in the room.”

And he was right, Mingyu was the tallest. Somehow he went from being the third shortest (next to Jihoon and Chan) to being roughly the size of a mountain. The contrast was unbelievable, and that wasn’t even the most unsettling part.

Mingyu was attractive. Really attractive.

Instead of feeling a warmth in her chest when she looked at Mingyu, like she used to long ago, suddenly she felt something else entirely. Her mouth was dry, her face was burning up, and her stomach was churning like the South China Sea. She had only felt like that a couple times before, after eating her little cousins Sunday Surprise and when she saw Park Jimin for the first time. The thought that Mingyu could fall into either of those categories—terrified her.

She didn’t move from her spot from the open doorway as Mingyu made his rounds, hugging and lifting the friends he hadn’t seen since junior high. He was so magnetic as he drifted from friend to friend, laughing and smiling like he had never been happier. She couldn’t help but watch him but also didn’t make any effort to join in the celebration. Something was keeping her from enjoying the party she put so much time and energy into making perfect.

“Sweetie?” Her mom prompted, having sensed her apparent distress from the kitchen. “Is everything alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.” She managed despite the dryness tearing up her throat. “Perfectly—fine.”

Jeonghan came up beside her. “See? Mingyu hasn’t changed at all, you were freaking yourself out over nothing at all.”

I’m not so sure about that.

“Do I—” Mingyu started suddenly, sniffing the air. “Do I smell eomma’s kalbi by any chance?”

Her mom smiled proudly. “Of course, nothing but the best for you my dear.”

“When is it gonna be ready?” He asked sheepishly. “Five minutes, ten minutes…”

She laughed. “Since you’re the guest of honor I guess we can let you eat a little early.”

“You’re the best!” He exclaimed, kissing her mother on the cheek and darting towards the kitchen. “I’ve missed your home cooking!”

Once he was out of sight, she grabbed an unassuming Hansol by the arm and dragged him into the other room. She needed to get her rambling thoughts off her chest before she imploded on the spot.

“Hey!” He protested. “Watch the nails, this is real genuine fake leather you’re digging into here.”

“Does it look like I care about your jacket?” She hissed, looking over her shoulder. “I need to ask you something and you’re not allowed to tell anyone we had this conversation.”

He eyed her suspiciously as he rubbed his arm. “Alright, I guess I’ll bite. What’s up?”

“Mingyu!” She exclaimed.

“What about him?”

“What do you mean what about him? Am I the only one seeing this?” She asked, gesturing broadly to Mingyu in the distance. “He’s—he’s different! Like—completely different!”

Hansol rolled his eyes. “You’re being overdramatic, as usual. So he got a little bit taller, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” She repeated in exasperation. “The big deal is that when Mingyu lived down the street he was just some goofy dorky kid that could barely tie his shoelaces without tripping. He tucked in his shirts and had a rilakkuma backpack! In what world is that the same kid? He was—he was never this hot! ”

Stifling a laugh, Hansol put a hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say that you’ve got a bit of a lady boner for your best friend. And that is honestly hilarious.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hansol I swear to God I’m going to smack you. I—I don’t have a lady boner for him. I’m just—I’m just a little taken aback by his new found appeal. That’s all.”

“Oh, is that so?” He asked, clearly amused. “Is that why your face is all red? Because you’re taken aback?”

Pulling out her phone and turning on the camera she couldn’t believe the blush that had creeped up her neck and managed to make her look like a ripe tomato. She was in some deep trouble. Especially if anyone with a louder mouth had noticed.

“So—so if Mingyu left looking like his usual goofball self and I felt nothing towards him,” She started quietly, “does that make me shallow now that he’s this attractive stud and suddenly my heart’s all doki doki?”

“Sorry to break it to you but, yes.” Hansol confirmed. “It does.”

She groaned loudly and crumpled to the floor. “Hansol, help me. What do I do? I don’t want to have a lady boner for Mingyu, that’s just—that’s just plain awkward!”

“Not to mention gross.” He chimed in. “Hearing you say lady boner over and over again is kinda disgusting.”

“You are not helping!” She whined, looking up at him in desperation. “How do I not have a—a thing for my best friend!”

“Well, the simple answer would be to get a boyfriend or a girlfriend so you wouldn’t think about him anymore.” He offered. “But we all know how well that’s been going for you so far.”

Glaring at him, she crossed her arms in a huff. “Don’t you know how to make a girl feel good. Besides, you’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend either if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, true.” He admitted with a shrug. “But I also don’t care about that crap. Doesn’t count.”

“Would it kill you to be a decent human being for three minutes?”

Looking back, she was shocked to see Wonwoo of all people standing in the doorway. He usually wouldn’t be bothered by her qualms. It seemed like a lot of things were changing that day.

“Okay, so here’s what you’re going to do.” Wonwoo started. “First, you’re going to stand up and get back in that party because if I have to hear you say lady boner one more time I’m going to lose it. Second, you’re going to have a conversation with Mingyu and put an end to this whole ordeal. If there’s one thing I can promise you it’s that despite the new packaging, Mingyu hasn’t changed at all. He’s still the dork you grew up with. Scout’s honor.”

“Weren’t you kicked out of the scout’s?” Hansol chuckled.

“Anyways.” He continued, levelling a vehement look at his childish friend. “My point still stands. And if you start to feel overwhelmed Soonyoung went to go get you some more strawberry milk since you already drank it all.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Kwon Soonyoung. I don’t know where I’d be without that man.”

“I really don’t get why strawberry milk calms you down.” Hansol snickered quietly. “You really are a strange one.”

“Says the one rapping about apple juice watching sing street.” She countered almost immediately. “What does that say about you?”

While doing his best to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks, Hansol pursed his lips in frustration. “I showed you those lyrics in confidence.”

“Well then maybe you should treat me better so I don’t spill your secrets all over the linoleum.” She returned. “Ever think of that?”

“Guys, can’t you bicker like an old married couple another time?” Wonwoo interjected suddenly. “Because I’m pretty sure that Seokmin brought his stash with him and I’d love to get a couple hits in before this whole awkward encounter gets underway.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Hansol laughed, starting for the other room with Wonwoo. “This conversation would’ve been much better if I was high. Basically any conversation with her is better when high.”

“You know I can still hear you right?” She halfway called after them, chuckling underneath her breath. “Alright, I can do this. I can get through this. He’s just Mingyu, I’m just me, and just because he looks like he stepped straight out of a Calvin Klein photoshoot doesn’t mean that anything has changed. And even if it has, change is no big deal. I’m not afraid of change. Not at all.”

Except maybe she was. Just a little bit.

After smoothing out her dress and pretending that it did something to help ease her nerves, she walked back into the living room like nothing happened at all. The few who noticed her return seemed to have a vague understanding of what went on. She wasn’t surprised. Her group of friends were a bunch of intolerable gossips so it wouldn’t be long before they all knew the gritty details anyway.

“There you are!” Mingyu exclaimed, completely oblivious as always. “Your dad broke out the champagne and Seokmin already put away almost half the bottle, hurry before you miss it!”

Her jaw dropped as she eyed her father. “So when I finished out last year at the top of my class I got treated to McDonald’s but when Mingyu comes back home he gets champagne? Do I need to remind you that I’m your child? Not this giant lug?”

While Mingyu guffawed over being referred to as a lug, her father stated plainly, “Well it’s not everyday that your long lost son returns home. Naturally it calls for a celebration!”

“Ouch.” Hansol snickered from the couch. “It’s gotta suck not being the favorite child when you’re the only child.”

Sticking her middle finger in his face, she turned her attention to her mother. “Am I really the second favorite?”

“Who wants kalbi!” She deflected easily. “First come first serve!”

Her jaw dropped. “Eomma!”

Having dinner with Mingyu and all of their friends had always been an experience, and somethings never change. They were all shoulder to shoulder at a table that comfortably sat six, maybe eight people, but they were easily double that count. For the entirety of the meal she had someone’s elbow in her side, someone else’s glass in front of her, and someone grinding their heel into her foot. It surely sounded uncomfortable, but for her it was her saving grace.

It helped distract her from the fact that she was literally pressed against Mingyu and her internal body temperature was skyrocketing. And it wasn’t helping much at all.

All around the table her friends were juggling conversation after conversation like seasoned pros and all she had to offer were clipped responses and choking sounds. Beside her Hansol was clearly amused since he was the most aware of her struggles and the one friend you never wanted to see your weaknesses. She had to pointedly ignore his quiet jeers while simultaneously trying to convince herself that everything was fine.

She really didn’t know what was wrong with her, why she couldn’t hold it together for more than five minutes without dissolving into a puddle of goo. If she had a crush on Mingyu, which she sorely wished wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t be the first. Or the second. Or even the third if she was being perfectly honest. She had spent most of her high school career pining after guys and girls that were way above her social pay grade. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being painstakingly awkward and being able to hide it from the world.

Mingyu, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any issue at all. He was talking the entire time, answering questions and filling in the dots of his life with a trademark smile plastered on his face. It was almost like he never left, that’s how perfectly he found his way back into her life. She was the disfigured puzzle piece, the one that didn’t belong, and it broke her heart a little.

Once everyone was done, most of the boys started to help her parents clean up like well trained huskies. They had been to enough of her family gatherings to know the drill. Many hands make light work and for that fact alone she was grateful to be friends with a dozen or so boys. The only ones that were nowhere to be found were all members of what she affectionately referred to as “team green”. Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Hansol, and Seokmin. They were no doubt in her basement with the faulty smoke detector. She made a mental note to burn some incense later.

“Honey, can you and Mingyu start putting away chairs?” Her mother asked politely. “Your father’s back is acting up again.”

Swallowing nervously, she nodded. “Y-yeah, sure. No problem.”

The one thing she was dreading above all else was being alone with Mingyu. Without the safety net of her friends and family she couldn’t predict the nonsense that was bound to spill out of her absurdly dry mouth. Her brain was reduced to little more than dirty thoughts and all she wanted to do was take a cold shower. She desperately hoped that she’d be able to hold it together for a few moments more.

You can do this. She reminded herself again and again. Think about Mingyu eating dirt, or crying over dramas, that’ll help.

It didn’t.

“How about you stack and I lift?” Mingyu offered innocently. “There aren’t many, we should be done quickly.”

Fearing her voice, she simply hummed in approval and got started. She was folding up chairs and pretending like Mingyu wasn’t boring holes into her head with his perplexed gaze.

Can hell open up and swallow me whole already?

“Alright, what’s going on with you.” He finally asked in that surprisingly deep voice of his. “You’ve been acting weird all night. Spill.”

“I’m not acting weird you’re acting weird.” She countered weakly. “I’m just really focused on these chairs is all.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Just like you were really focused on the three dozen napkins to tore to ribbons underneath the table? Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, gesturing to a stack of chairs. “I think you’re putting off having to lift all these heavy chairs. You can take two at a time if you need to.”

As he scoffed, he looped his arm through five chairs. “Yeah, I’m putting it off alright.”

Watching him lift the chairs like they weighed little more than paper, her heart skipped enough times to potentially warrant a trip to the emergency room. He really wasn’t the same Mingyu that struggled with his school books every single day. This Mingyu was far more dangerous, more sexy, more—

“Shit!”

Clumsy?

He hadn’t even taken two steps towards the closet before tripping over an untied shoelace and toppling gloriously to the floor. Watching him fall like a great oak was vaguely reminiscent of their short stint as pole vaulters in junior high. They only went to one practice and it ended just as ceremoniously with Mingyu face down in the astroturf. The only thing that was missing were his slightly askew glasses and charmingly crooked teeth.

After standing there in silence waiting for him to compose himself, she burst out in belly aching laughter.

Finally, the illusion was shattered. The others were right, he hadn’t changed one bit. He was still the same clumsy goof she knew and loved, tripping over shoelaces and making a fool of himself just like the good ol’ days. It didn’t matter that puberty was kind to him, that didn’t change what mattered most. He was her perfectly imperfect Kim Mingyu and that’s all she cared about.

“Easy there.” She managed through bouts of laughter. “Don’t try to overwork yourself for my benefit.”

“Hey, I thought I was pretty cool.” He returned, a smile twitching at his lips. “Up until the—uh, y’know—falling over bit.”

Rolling her eyes, she offered him a helping hand. “You really were, almost had me fooled for a second there.”

“I can only try.” He said, taking her hand and pushing himself back onto his feet. “I’m just glad it finally got you out of your funk. You really haven’t been acting like yourself.”

“How am I supposed to act when my best friend shows up at the door and he looks like a complete stranger?” She scoffed. “I wasn’t entirely sure that Hansol wasn’t pulling some sort of elaborate prank on me. I wouldn’t put it past him getting my parents involved either.”

Mingyu laughed quietly. “You two have been trying to one-up each other since you were in diapers. What’s the score these days?”

“He likes to think he’s ahead but he forgets that despite his icy cool exterior he can’t keep his mouth shut for crap.” She grinned. “Every time he takes a step forward his fat mouth sends him two steps back.”

He offered her an incredulous look. “Is that so?”

“That it is.” She reaffirmed. “Did you know that he wrote a love letter to the school nurse when he was eight? He never sent it, but I bet if we get him loaded then he’ll totally recite it for us.”

Bursting out laughing, he pulled her into a tight hug. “Man, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

She sighed into the embrace. “I missed you too.”

There was a lot that was different, about both of them, and a lot that was the same. She felt comfortable in his arms, like it was the only place she wanted to be. Now there was just a lot more of him and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright I hate to spoil the moment but those chairs aren’t going to put away themselves.” Her mother suddenly chastised them from the kitchen. “You guys better hurry up before I decide to eat this ice cream all by myself.”

“If you touch my samanco I will sue!” She exclaimed, running for the freezer. “I don’t know what for but I’ll figure it out!”

Her mom chuckled into her hand. “That would certainly be interesting. Just don’t touch your father’s strawberry ice cream or Mingyu’s melona bars.”

“You even got him ice cream?” She rolled her eyes. “I swear you might as well adopt him at this point.”

“Stop being so dramatic, it’s only because he’s spending the night.”

Her heart stopped.

“S-spending the night?” She managed past the lump rising in her throat. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

Her mom didn’t look fazed. “I figured it would be nice if you two had a sleepover like the good old days! Besides, he’s living down the hall so why not stay here?”

“Down the hall?” She continued to sputter. “What—are you serious? His parents—”

“Are still living in Busan.” She finished. “Haven’t you been paying attention? They let him move back here so he could finish out his senior year with you and all of your friends!”

“So he’s—” She paused to swallow. “He’s living here. In this building. Down the hall. Alone? And you want him to stay here tonight? With me?”

Her mom was looking at her like she’d grown a second head. “Yes? Why are you acting so strangely? Are you feeling okay?”

Mingyu. She thought. Hot, sculpted, tan, tall, Mingyu. In my house. Spending the night. I’m—I’m perfectly fine.

“Perfectly… fine…”

Yeah.

She wasn’t.

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cheolsjigyu · 6 years ago

Text

tranquil ↝ x.mh

genre - fluff

warning(s) - none

word count - 182

a/n: HENLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg it’s been so long since i’ve actually written something lmaooo i was actually writing a prince!wonwoo au but my laptop broke and it’s still broken until now so hmmm guess it’ll just rot lmfao ok so i wrote this literally 5 minutes ago and this was all a spur of the moment kind of thing bc i kind of miss writing ig lol so i hope u enjoy a v short fluff of mr xu minghao the ultimate sweetheart <3

creds

Perhaps it was the breeze floating around your resting figures on the rooftop that gave Minghao a push to move closer to you. The movement was unnoticed by you, though. Your attention was focused more on lights that were starting to light up. The golden sun was bidding a farewell for the day and the moon arriving for his shift.

There was a pause. A faint skip of the heart.

Your head suddenly dropped on Minghao's shoulder, making him halt. One of your hands that were resting on the railing of the rooftop found its way to Minghao's arm.

You were warm. Your heat that's radiating from your fingers through Hao's arm and down to his entire body made his heart race. There was something about your contented sigh and your soft clutch that made him place his head softly on yours.

Times like this were something Minghao treasures the most. He likes drowning himself in your delicate breathing and just your presence. There were no complications. No miscommunications. No heartaches.

Just you and him, watching the world unfold before your eyes.

#xu minghao #write-svt #sfwseventeen #xu minghao imagines #xu minghao scenarios #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #minghao scenarios #minghao fluf #the 8 #xu minghao fanfics #xu minghao fluff #minghao imagines #minghao fluff #minghao

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tonicandjins · 6 years ago

Text

until it’s nothing but senseless babble

characters: kwon soonyoung/reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of alcohol comsumption word count: 1100

september i love yous #13: over and over again, until it’s nothing but senseless babble

Soonyoung drinks like a nineteen-year-old tasting the sweet and aggressive flavor of soju for the first time, but that doesn’t stop him from drinking on his friend’s birthday party.

His mind is hazy but he’s almost certain that it’s a dream when you’re taking him home. The soft texture of your sweater is warm against his arm and he can smell the strawberry-scented shampoo you always liked under his nose – factors that prove that this is most definitely not a dream. As he attempts to help you drag him from the elevator to your home, Soonyoung refuses to believe that it’s real.

“Y/N,” he slurs when you reach the front of your apartment.

“Hold up for a sec will you, Soonyoung?” It’s a struggle to take your keys from your back pocket because he’s weighing you down as you try to carry him up with your entire upper body. How you twist your arm and try to reach for your keys don’t go unnoticed by Soonyoung’s eyes, so, even as drunken as he is, he reaches from behind you and him, slips his palm into your back pocket and takes your keys. He hears you chuckle quietly when you catch a glimpse of his half closed lids as he tries his best to fight his sleepiness and help you. Taking the keys from his hand, you thank him in a low voice, almost muted, and unlock the door.

Soonyoung has always liked your apartment. Though small and cramped, the atmosphere inside brings him comfort. Sometimes, he wonders what kind of essential oil you put in the air diffuser that sits on a dresser beside your small television set. Lavender and rosemary, you told him once, but Soonyoung went to every store in the vicinity that sells such yet he couldn’t find one that smells like your apartment. He told you he gave up on finding the essential oil like yours even when you sent him a text message, completed with the brand and name and exact store where to find it along with the formula to make his home smell like yours (two drops of lavender, one and a half of rosemary, an optional drop of lemon), and he hopes you realize he’s just making excuses to come back again and again.

It doesn’t take you long to bring him to your couch. The lights are still dim and he knows you prefer it that way when it’s night time. As his back hits the couch, Soonyoung suddenly takes your hand. The liquid courage provided by two bottles of soju must have been the reason why he unexpectedly feels more courageous than ever, or perhaps because he still thinks this is a dream.

“Dream Y/N,” he calls, pulling you to sit on the small space beside his waist. “You’re as beautiful as real Y/N.”

The ends of your lips turn up into a small, beautiful smile, the one that Soonyoung loves. “Am I?”

He nods, allowing his eyes to close once and for all but still holds onto your hand. “But she’s . . . better, I think.”

“How come?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as you hold his hand with both hands. “I brought your drunken self home. How come she’s better?”

“Because I love her,” he answers with a sigh. “You’re beauti—beti—beaufitul—beautiful, don’t get me wrong, just like her. But I don’t know you well enough, dream Y/N. I think real Y/N is better because I know her. She’s a good person and she’s cute when she sees dogs in the streets and runs to pet them even when I repeadet—repeatedly tell her not to scare other people’s pets. And I always wonder how it feels like to hold her hand but I’ll never know if it’s warm and soft like how I always imanige—imagi—imagined it would be because I’ll never get to hold it.” He holds onto your hand tighter. It’s warm and it’s soft like how he always imagined it would be.

Soonyoung sighs again. “Dream Y/N, you should meet real Y/N. She likes a lot of things and she doesn’t take anyone for granted. Though things are diffu—difficult sometimes, she finds a way to see the good in everything. I don’t think real Y/N is real at times because—Dream Y/N? Do you really think someone as human and at the same time as perfect as her exists in real life?” His lips are formed in a pout as he rambles about you and then they turn into a small frown when he hears you laugh.

He opens one eye and peeks. You’re adorable when you’re laughing quietly as you listen to him.

“You don’t believe me?” he asks, opening his other eye to look at you. “She’s not real. Maybe you’re even real-er than her.”

“I understand, Soonyoung,” you answer. “Maybe one day I’ll meet her?”

He hums.

“Are there things you haven’t told her yet?” Soonyoung nods, staring at your ceiling, his hand still caught between yours. “Like what? Maybe I can tell her for you?”

He shakes his head. “I want to tell her myself.”

“Why don’t you?” He shrugs. “You should. Or at least tell me first.”

“I love her,” he replies, his tone sincere. “Not in a friend kind of way. Like—I don’t even know how to put it in words. I love her in a way that I want to take care of her and show her that she’s worth everything. I love her like I want to hold her hand for a long time.”

“Tell me,” you suggest, making him look at you.

“I love you,” he says, his orbs staring directly at yours. “I love you like you love dogs, maybe even more. I love you more than I love the scent of your apartment. I love you like . . . a banana. I love you and my head is starting to hurt.” He goes on and on, telling you he loves you over and over again until it’s nothing but senseless babble. He watches the way a bigger grin etches on your lips and panic a little. “Not you, Dream Y/N. Real Y/N. I love her.”

You nod. “I’m jealous.”

He closes his eyes. “You should. She’s the best.” Silence.

“You are, too,” you whisper, realizing that Soonyoung has fallen asleep, his hand still clasped between yours.

Soonyoung still believes it’s a dream when he hazily feels your lips touch the back of his hand as you tell him you love him, too.

#write-svt #svtwriters #sfwseventeen #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi scenarios #qsilys #qwords

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softhaos · 7 years ago

Text

MODERN FAIRYTALE – THE8

pairing – xu minghao x reader genre – fluff warning – none word count – 461 words

drabbles loosely inspired by fairytales & the one where he visits your grounded ass at midnight aka rapunzel but without the damsel acting as a ladder

part of the modern fairytale series

Wherever Minghao went, a storm was bound to follow.

Minghao himself wasn't the epitome of chaos but he was a wildfire indeed. He liked to shape the rules to his liking whenever he couldn't get what he wanted and though he had no bad intentions, the consequences usually were. Sometimes he got away, sometimes he didn't. But most of the times, it was the innocent bystander who got caught up in cleaning up his doings.

You wouldn't say that ever since you became an official thing, Minghao had turned to the better. Though it was true that he had managed to keep himself at bay and tried not to do whatever he pleased, it was foolish to say that it was all thanks to you. There were some things that he just couldn't let go of and he was smart enough to make his plans reality when nobody was watching.

With the exception of you, that is.

Whenever he craved to see you, nothing could stop him. Parties couldn't, his friends couldn't, his fed-up neighbor (who kept hoping that one day, he'd get in very deep trouble and get arrested simply because of that one time he smashed a flower pot) couldn't and not even his own parents could refrain him from doing what he pleased. If he could get past all of that, the fact that your parents grounded you were mere child's play for him.

And so it happened that you got a text message in the ungodly hours of the night demanding to open the window that faced the main road. And because the sender wasn't anyone you could ignore – considering the ungodly time – you did as told and honestly, you shouldn't have been so surprised seeing Minghao halfway up a tree to jump into your room. He was crazy and reckless and brought himself to many worthless risks. Many thought he could do better. You thought that made Minghao, well, Minghao.

“You're so dead if someone catches you here,” you chastised yet granted him access to your room anyway. Minghao didn't reply, just casually shrugged it off as if climbing into your place was nearly routine and ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. He knew how much it affected you and judging by your scowl, he knew it worked. Even as you lightly flicked his forehead, he only flashed you a sly grin.

Knowing that you were about to give him a harder smack against his forehead because of the lack of answer, he caught your wrist in time, inches before your fingers grazed his skin and said without tearing his gaze away from you, the smirk still lasting on his face, “It takes more than death to stop me from visiting you.”

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queensidillas · 7 years ago

Text

our love in days : sunday

genre : angst

word count : 1987

notes : *wipes the dust off the draft* yeah

Dejected. That was how you felt when he stepped out of the door and slammed it shut. Sometimes you wondered why you bother bringing up past issues when they were going to make him like this. You regretted bringing it up now of all times. Seungcheol was going through a lot with work piling up and having to handle 13 men who had their own personal agendas now. But it was in the spur of the moment, a moment you couldn’t take back.

Seungcheol dropped by your place, which was rare for him when it was near their comebacks. He knew your passcode, you gave it to him during your anniversary. You told him he could drop by anytime and he did. His presence used to brighten up even the dullest of days but now, it seemed to make it dreary. Thinking about it, you both stopped celebrating small milestones in your relationship as he got busier and busier. Nowadays when he drops by, it almost seemed forced. He would come around, eat, take a nap and leave. His presence never made a dent to your place, it was as if he was never here despite the significant decrease in food supplies.

The last time he was here, you were accused for being too clingy. He was watching his dance practice at your place, where he had to practice with a female dancer. A beautiful, drop dead gorgeous female dancer who seemed to have curves at all the right places. You couldn’t help but feel your insecurities exponentially rising just like the bile in your system. You were sick at how good looking they both looked together, especially with such a sensual dance. He doesn’t notice your discomfort, his focus was cut off when he gets a phone call. Ending the call, he quickly wore his jacket. “Oh, are you going off already?” you asked. “Yeah, the boys and I are going to practice the dance again”, he said, in the matter of fact kind of tone. “Was it the one you were watching?” you said as he collected his things as shoving it into his bag. “Yes”, your heart ached a bit. “She seems quite pretty, your dance partner,” you tried to sound positive. “Yeah, lucky me,” he was already wearing the bag over his shoulder, a smirk forming. “I can never look like her, never in a million years,” you were laughing it off by now as you pinched the sides of your cheek in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Probably not, maybe if you exercised?” as he turned on his heels and left for his practice. Thanks a lot.

Today however, the first thing he did was drag his feet and slumped onto the couch. Exhaustion loomed over his face and you could see the dark forming under his deep set eyes.

“Hey dear, are you okay?” you asked. He replied with a grunt. You sighed and proceeded to make tea for him. Placing the cup over the coaster, you sat next to him. Frustration oozed out of him like smoke from an erupting volcano. He was ready to explode any minute if you weren’t cautious. You reached for his free hand, wanting to give a small squeeze only to be surprised when pulled it back quickly.

“Stop that”, he warned. “But-” “Can you please just shut up for a moment,” he spat out. Borderline screaming. “I thought I could at least rest a bit before heading back to the studio.” He was mad, really mad.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-” he cuts you off again. “You always think but never thought that maybe I don’t need to hear anything from you. Also, stop apologising. It’s starting to lose its meaning,” he voice practically raised by now and you were very scared. He was right, all you did was apologise. “So what if I apologise, it’s not like you would,” you spoke softly. His eyes darting to your direction. You knew you shouldn't have said that, but the words left faster than your brain could tell your mouth to seal itself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gulped at how intense he was staring at you. He lifted his hand, unknowingly you flinched. Combing his hair in frustration at your lack of response, he looked away. He gripped onto his knees, knuckles turning white as blood was being cut off from those particular spots. Standing up, the first thing he did was slam his fist onto the couch, causing it to vibrate slightly. Petrified to the core, you sat still. Jitters slowly building within you, it was almost too hard to breathe.

“It’s just been awhile since I saw you, that’s all,” you softly said. “You should have known that this would happen we got together. Unlike you, my job doesn’t have fixed hours or the 9 to 5 schedule. Do you think it’s easy for me?” He was close to bursting. Shaking your head instead of replying, because you couldn’t trust yourself to talk at this point on. “Nothing is easy, Cheol. Regardless of the job, it would have been nice if you could empathise,” you looked up at him. He was annoyed and far from the guy you used to like. “NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU,” he exclaimed. Neither is it you all the time too.

“But we can talk this out-” “Forget it, nothing’s going to change if we did. I’m leaving,” out of frustration, he stomped to your doorway. -

It has been weeks since you last saw Seungcheol. No apologies, nothing. I guess that’s it. You finally plucked the courage to remove the picture of both you on your desk and shoving it into the box together with anything that was related to him. Movie tickets, polaroids, dried flowers, letters and all the sentimental things that screamed ‘CHOI SEUNGCHEOL’. You knew it was their last rehearsal before having to perform at the broadcasting stations and it has been awhile since you cooked for them. Knowing them, they probably thrive off instant noodles courtesy of Mingyu as per usual. Even if things were rough between, they didn’t deserve to have bad meals before their comeback. - Lugged with two huge bags by your side, you waited at the entrance of the company. You contacted Jihoon beforehand to help collect the bags from you to distribute the food to the others later. It was cold outside, leaves have fallen off a long time ago leaving remnants surrounding the bare trees. Out of all the members that Seungcheol introduced you to, Jihoon was unexpectedly the closest you’ve got to be acquainted with. Although he was the most reserve, he was the one who filled you in on what kind person Seungcheol was. He filled in the gaps of your knowledge about your significant other. Of course it never replaced the moments of curiousity of knowing each other when you and Seungcheol started out.

“Hey”

Your thoughts were cut off by the greeting. “Hi, Jihoon,” you gave him a warm smile. Taking the bags from you, you thanked him. As you turned around to head back, you felt a tug on your jacket.

“You’re not coming in?” Jihoon questioned. His eyes were full of concern. Times like these he didn’t seem as snarky or aloof as people would think he would be. “I don’t think I should,” you gave a curt reply. “Why not? You’re not a stranger to us,” you sighed. “But it feels like I am,” as you shoved your hands into your pockets to warm them up. He cocked an eyebrow at your answer. “I don’t think I should distract you guys from practice, especially with the comeback just around the corner,” that’s when Jihoon place the bags down momentarily and sat by the steps of the building. He patted the empty spot next to him, indicating your cue to sit.

“You know that’s not true. What’s up?” you tried brushing it off but he was persistent, much to your dismay. “It’s me and Seungcheol alright? Are you happy now?” his eyes widened. “Are you both still together?” you thought about it for awhile. He did not like where this was going. “Honestly, I don't know. It doesn't feel like it have been for awhile now. We seem better off as strangers.” You were tired, tired at picking up the pieces of what was left of your relationship, tired of being the one who had to apologise when it wasn’t your fault at times, tired of having to be the one who had to be understanding, tired of suppressing everything in, just so tired of it all. Tears threatened to escape but you quickly wiped them off with your jacket. Jihoon couldn’t help but feel sad and disappointed for you. He knew Seungcheol longer than anyone and he knew he always kept all the negativity away from the boys, but did it mean having it focused on you instead? “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you brushed it off again in hopes he wouldn’t probe further. He didn’t, thankfully. He gave one last back rub as you dried your tears off. “When you’re ready, you can always talk to me alright? I better get back in soon before one of the boys think I got kidnapped. Thanks for the food again,” picking up the large bag and entered the building. You slumped back down onto the steps, feeling a little better after releasing a few tears. Thank you, Jihoon. - “Gosh, I’m starving,” Seungkwan complained as he laid sprawled all over the studio floor. “You’re always starving, Seungkwan,” Chan sneered. Seungkwan’s head shot up and gave a dagger look the younger one. In this case however, everyone was starving. Soonyoung was drilling everyone today in particular since they had to go for their recording in two days. He would make them practice up till wee hours of the morning (not on purpose) and let them rest a full day the day before broadcast. It wasn’t easy to synchronize people in a dance, let alone 13 guys. “Alright boys, I’ve got something for you all,” Jihoon piped. The members were skeptical when Jihoon disappeared to his recording studio and reappeared with two large bags. The bags were half his size and if you stacked them up, it was easily taller than him.

He trudged to where the guys were gathered and placed the bags down. Everyone gathered around like kids during Christmas, feeling very expectant. The boys soared loudly when Jihoon revealed the contents of the bag, containers filled with food. Each container had different dishes, there were even containers with each member’s name that was filled with rice. She literally packed a whole house, Jihoon smiled at that thought. Digging deeper into the bag, there were disposable cutlery and bottles of drinks. The guys immediately took their respective containers and dived into the dishes. They really looked like savages who have been starved for days. “Hey Jihoon, who made these?” Jeonghan asked as he stuffed another piece of meat into his mouth. “A friend”. “This is for you, Seungcheol”, Jihoon passed the container to him. Seungcheol was the last person to get his container but he immediately recognised the handwriting on the note. Before Jihoon allowed him to open it, he said, “Seungcheol, we’ve trained the longest together and I know you. Sometimes it’s okay to not be okay and admit it. I hope whatever written in there was worth it in the end”. Jihoon let go of the container and left him to his own space in the studio. Seungcheol sat against the mirrors and started unfolding the note.

Hi Cheol, I won’t bother you after this. I’m sorry for not being understanding enough during the last few months but thank you for the last few years. I love you and all the best. As your comeback would say, 고맙다 (gomapda).

#write-svt #sfwseventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #s.coups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol scenarios #s.coups scenarios #seventeen #angst #l written

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