Romanticisms [round 1]
Romanticisms, a het!drabble series
ratings g - nc-17.
ongoing. will be posted in sets of two.
1; chanhun. pg.
She smells like summer time and perfume, a sweet mix of sunscreen and flowers and every time she gets in the car, Chanyeol wants to roll up all the windows and hotbox himself in it. Her hair falls over her shoulders in cliche platinum waterfalls as she sets her purse down by her feet, and her summer dress is a bit too summery for this mild spring day but he won’t say a word to her, because Sehun always dresses how she wants to dress, weather be damned. Like that one time they went out for New Year’s Eve and the sidewalks were blanketed in ice and she insisted on wearing stilettos, and Chanyeol, just because he’s so fucking madly in love with her, had just offered his arm for her to support herself on and told her she looked beautiful as she hobbled along and made sure her ankles didn't roll awkwardly.
Today they’re going for a drive, and it’s not really anything new. Chanyeol has put a lot of time and money into his car, and he’s really proud of it and Sehun sometimes (bitterly) accuses him of loving it more than her, but he usually silences her with a kiss and one of his signature smiles as he squeezes her hip affectionately. Going for a drive once a week helps clear both their heads of the stress that builds up over the past seven days, and they’ve found some pretty sweet spots. Sehun always thinks to pack a lunch (because one time Chanyeol suggested some gross burger joint and Sehun complained that when she got back into the car the frame sank three inches) and they have a fine time sitting quietly and watching the sun set over wherever they choose to be.
As Chanyeol pulls away from Sehun’s house and down the street, he watches her out of the corner of his eyes. Sehun rolls down the window and her hair blows around a bit, before she settles on holding it with one hand so she can stick the other out the window. Her bangs are anywhere but covering her forehead, and her eyes are curving into pretty crescents as the warm air hits her face. Sehun’s hand is sailing through the wind, catching it, dancing with it as Chanyeol pulls onto the freeway in a direction they’ve yet to travel. She says nothing, always knowing that Chanyeol will safely guide her, even when he kicks on the turbo and shifts down so he can pass people on the freeway. She’s nearly hanging out of the window, watching the sky, the cars, the white lines on the roads and Chanyeol has a small smile on his face.
It takes about fifteen minutes to reach their destination, and Sehun sits properly in her seat, curious eyes glancing around. It’s a park they haven’t been to before and when he puts the brake on, he hasn’t even shut off the ignition before Sehun is grabbing her purse and getting out of the car. He chuckles and grabs their packed lunch from the back seat, and then gets out, making sure everything is locked before he follows Sehun’s trail. She smells like nature and high maintenance and Chanyeol is intoxicated trailing in her wake before they make it to the small lake, where Sehun is already pulling a blanket out of her purse (Chanyeol likes to call it a ‘Mary Poppins’ bag because of how much she manages to fit in there) and spreading it on the ground. Her skirt flutters around her thighs and Chanyeol enjoys the view of her flawless, creamy skin, knowing it stays that fair because of the very zinc-oxide filled scent that infiltrates his nose.
He sits next to her and she takes the lunch from him, setting it aside and then shifting to sit criss-cross, making sure her dress covers her panties as she looks out over the lake. There’s some ducks lazily floating across, but the area is remote and she leans back on a hand, tilting her head a bit. She’s not wearing a lot of make-up today; she’s always up on the trends, and she was babbling about how eyeliner is out and ‘natural looks’ are in. Chanyeol has no idea what that means, and he doesn’t care, because Sehun could put on clown make-up complete with a big red nose and he’d still think she’s the most beautiful girl on this Earth. He suspects that Sehun’s best friend Zitao is a heavy influence on how Sehun dresses and wears her hair, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Although, he prefers Sehun in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties, sitting at his kitchen table in the morning, sleepily spooning cereal into her mouth as he bustles around and downs gallons of coffee to get ready for work.
One of the reasons they like to get out like this as much as possible… well, Chanyeol tries not to think about the details. Sehun is in her final year of high school and Chanyeol? He’s already graduated college and set up with a small time record company as a producer. Their age difference isn’t necessarily frowned upon, but it’s not encouraged. Sehun has gotten in plenty of fights with her parents over Chanyeol, and Chanyeol has even suggested they wait to date until she’s in college, but Sehun is a mule and refuses to get anything less than what she wants. And because Chanyeol is just so crazy about her -- since the day he accidentally spilled soda on her dress at a concert -- he lets her have her way.
“Have you been here before?” Sehun finally breaks the silence as she opens the lunch bag to pull out a bottled water.
Chanyeol shakes his head, “No, someone told me about it.”
Sehun arches a brow and casts him a slightly wry grin, “This is like… make out point for high schoolers.”
Chanyeol immediately splutters and flushes red up to his ears, and Sehun just laughs, thoroughly pleased as she takes a sip from her water before capping it and tossing it onto the blanket out of the way. She shifts and scoots into Chanyeol’s side and though he’s still embarrassed, an arm automatically slips around her tiny waist, drawing her body closer to him.
“I like it,” she says. Clearly she was joking about the make out point thing, which makes Chanyeol breathe a bit easier.
“I like you,” he says, greasy, cheesy grin plastered on his features.
He can feel her eyes roll into his shoulders and she smacks him in the chest, “You’re so gross.”
“Mmm.. you don’t think so,” he says, glancing down at her. “Not really.”
She glances up and he sees that today she’s wearing sky blue circle lenses, and she looks like a porcelain doll. Her nose scrunches up… and then she pulls him down for a chaste kiss. “Maybe.”
“Definitely,” he counters.
She pushes him so hard he lands in a patch of dirt. The sun is reflecting off the water and sending light ripples across her skin and as Chanyeol looks up at her smiling features, her thin lips and her crescent eyes, hair slightly mussed, he knows that this girl is his.
And he is, indisputably, hers.
--
2; taokai. pg.
“Hold my hand.”
“No.”
“Hold my fucking hand.”
“Ladies shouldn’t use language like tha-- HEY!!”
Zitao’s got the most smug grin on her face as she takes Jongin’s hand and tucks it directly into her armpit, trapping it there in the tight warmth. Jongin just whines (loudly) and people stare (blatantly) but Zitao flips her long, dark hair over her shoulder and sends him a pretty, pink-lipped smile.
“You know the punishment.”
“But,” Jongin is trying to wheedle his hand out of the soft crevasse of Zitao’s pit, his nose scrunching, “it’s too hot!” And that’s usually his only complaint because Zitao waxes and wears clinical strength deodorant and sometimes, when Jongin thinks she’s not paying attention, he’ll nuzzle right up into that crook and feel so safe and cozy and fall immediately into deep sleep.
“Then you shouldn’t have been an asshole,” she says conversationally. The mall is bustling around them and sort of giving them looks, but otherwise they’re ignored as Zitao stops at a rack displayed outside of a trendy shop, bathing suits with a sign that says “30% OFF!”. Jongin is still sulking, hand still trapped in her armpit and he looks like a child instead of a junior in high school and she looks like Mother fucking Theresa, so patiently letting him whine while she ignores him and flips through bikinis with one-handed skill.
After a few moments of the cold shoulder (and hot armpit), Jongin finally breaks down. “Taozi… I’ll hold your hand. Please?”
Immediately and with a flourish, Zitao moves her arm to release his hand from its confinement. He pulls it away (and resists taking a whiff because he loves the smell of her antiperspirant) and then slips his hot, kind of clammy hand into Zitao’s, their fingers lacing. She’s still shopping one-handed, and she’s quite a pro at it honestly, because Jongin always wants to hold her hand or have her arm around his waist or just be relatively attached to her like a barnacle. She doesn’t mind. At least, he thinks she doesn’t, because Jongin is pretty sure Zitao would (loudly) protest if she didn’t like him hanging on her like that.
“Tsk,” she tuts as she drops her free hand from the bikini rack, her nose scrunched up in distaste. “Why are there no cute one-piece bathing suits? They’re so ‘in’ right now and no stores here have them.”
“Order online?” Jongin helpfully (he thinks) suggests, distracted by the scent wafting in from the food courts.
“And get my sizes all wrong? Ugh, no. Not for a bathing suit.” She glances over and Jongin doesn’t see because his eyes are glued to Jamba Juice. However, he can feel her eye roll. “Are you hungry?”
“Jamba Juice,” he whines.
“You’re like a kid,” she scolds.
But they both know, very well, that part of what Zitao likes so much about Jongin is how childish he can be at times. She’s very doting, the picture perfect noona despite her attitude and crass words. She adores taking care of Jongin in an almost motherly role and he… well, he likes it, because he doesn’t get that attention anywhere else. Mommy issues? Probably. Zitao never asks, though, she just… accepts.
In line at Jamba Juice (because Zitao knows she won’t live in another store with Jongin pouting around) she stands, looking at the menu. She’ll even order for him - even though he’ll pull out his wallet - because he likes her taking control of the situations, being in charge, leading him around. He’s snuggled tightly into her side and he’s taller than her but she wears impressive heels so the difference today is only about two inches. He can comfortably rest his head on her shoulder as he slings his arms around her and her voice is bored sounding as she orders his drink for him, but as he pulls out his wallet and hands over the cash, he feels her jaw shift and knows she’s smiling. The barista eyes them curiously, but neither of them pay her any mind. As they wait, Jongin sways their bodies a bit, and Zitao pulls out her phone to start scrolling through weibo while they wait.
“Hey,” Jongin tucks his chin on her shoulder and shifts, hugging her from behind. She’s solid against his chest, strong and firm and he likes that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to break her in half.
“Hm?” she hums distractedly, tapping her phone screen as she replies to some sort of meme Sehun sent her.
Jongin noses the shell of her ear, feeling the ridges of the piercings slide over the tip of his nose, his voice soft. “I love you.”
He can feel her skin heat up, her body unfurl under his touch and it’s like that she loses all rigidity and strength and lets herself melt, right into his embrace.
She’s smiling wider, thumb skipping over her phone and he knows it’s because her heart skipped a beat, too.
“I love you, too.”
He takes his drink from the barista with a smile.
“Now hold my fucking hand.”
Jongin’s whine echoes throughout the food court.
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ratings g - nc-17.
ongoing. will be posted in sets of two.
1; chanhun. pg.
She smells like summer time and perfume, a sweet mix of sunscreen and flowers and every time she gets in the car, Chanyeol wants to roll up all the windows and hotbox himself in it. Her hair falls over her shoulders in cliche platinum waterfalls as she sets her purse down by her feet, and her summer dress is a bit too summery for this mild spring day but he won’t say a word to her, because Sehun always dresses how she wants to dress, weather be damned. Like that one time they went out for New Year’s Eve and the sidewalks were blanketed in ice and she insisted on wearing stilettos, and Chanyeol, just because he’s so fucking madly in love with her, had just offered his arm for her to support herself on and told her she looked beautiful as she hobbled along and made sure her ankles didn't roll awkwardly.
Today they’re going for a drive, and it’s not really anything new. Chanyeol has put a lot of time and money into his car, and he’s really proud of it and Sehun sometimes (bitterly) accuses him of loving it more than her, but he usually silences her with a kiss and one of his signature smiles as he squeezes her hip affectionately. Going for a drive once a week helps clear both their heads of the stress that builds up over the past seven days, and they’ve found some pretty sweet spots. Sehun always thinks to pack a lunch (because one time Chanyeol suggested some gross burger joint and Sehun complained that when she got back into the car the frame sank three inches) and they have a fine time sitting quietly and watching the sun set over wherever they choose to be.
As Chanyeol pulls away from Sehun’s house and down the street, he watches her out of the corner of his eyes. Sehun rolls down the window and her hair blows around a bit, before she settles on holding it with one hand so she can stick the other out the window. Her bangs are anywhere but covering her forehead, and her eyes are curving into pretty crescents as the warm air hits her face. Sehun’s hand is sailing through the wind, catching it, dancing with it as Chanyeol pulls onto the freeway in a direction they’ve yet to travel. She says nothing, always knowing that Chanyeol will safely guide her, even when he kicks on the turbo and shifts down so he can pass people on the freeway. She’s nearly hanging out of the window, watching the sky, the cars, the white lines on the roads and Chanyeol has a small smile on his face.
It takes about fifteen minutes to reach their destination, and Sehun sits properly in her seat, curious eyes glancing around. It’s a park they haven’t been to before and when he puts the brake on, he hasn’t even shut off the ignition before Sehun is grabbing her purse and getting out of the car. He chuckles and grabs their packed lunch from the back seat, and then gets out, making sure everything is locked before he follows Sehun’s trail. She smells like nature and high maintenance and Chanyeol is intoxicated trailing in her wake before they make it to the small lake, where Sehun is already pulling a blanket out of her purse (Chanyeol likes to call it a ‘Mary Poppins’ bag because of how much she manages to fit in there) and spreading it on the ground. Her skirt flutters around her thighs and Chanyeol enjoys the view of her flawless, creamy skin, knowing it stays that fair because of the very zinc-oxide filled scent that infiltrates his nose.
He sits next to her and she takes the lunch from him, setting it aside and then shifting to sit criss-cross, making sure her dress covers her panties as she looks out over the lake. There’s some ducks lazily floating across, but the area is remote and she leans back on a hand, tilting her head a bit. She’s not wearing a lot of make-up today; she’s always up on the trends, and she was babbling about how eyeliner is out and ‘natural looks’ are in. Chanyeol has no idea what that means, and he doesn’t care, because Sehun could put on clown make-up complete with a big red nose and he’d still think she’s the most beautiful girl on this Earth. He suspects that Sehun’s best friend Zitao is a heavy influence on how Sehun dresses and wears her hair, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Although, he prefers Sehun in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties, sitting at his kitchen table in the morning, sleepily spooning cereal into her mouth as he bustles around and downs gallons of coffee to get ready for work.
One of the reasons they like to get out like this as much as possible… well, Chanyeol tries not to think about the details. Sehun is in her final year of high school and Chanyeol? He’s already graduated college and set up with a small time record company as a producer. Their age difference isn’t necessarily frowned upon, but it’s not encouraged. Sehun has gotten in plenty of fights with her parents over Chanyeol, and Chanyeol has even suggested they wait to date until she’s in college, but Sehun is a mule and refuses to get anything less than what she wants. And because Chanyeol is just so crazy about her -- since the day he accidentally spilled soda on her dress at a concert -- he lets her have her way.
“Have you been here before?” Sehun finally breaks the silence as she opens the lunch bag to pull out a bottled water.
Chanyeol shakes his head, “No, someone told me about it.”
Sehun arches a brow and casts him a slightly wry grin, “This is like… make out point for high schoolers.”
Chanyeol immediately splutters and flushes red up to his ears, and Sehun just laughs, thoroughly pleased as she takes a sip from her water before capping it and tossing it onto the blanket out of the way. She shifts and scoots into Chanyeol’s side and though he’s still embarrassed, an arm automatically slips around her tiny waist, drawing her body closer to him.
“I like it,” she says. Clearly she was joking about the make out point thing, which makes Chanyeol breathe a bit easier.
“I like you,” he says, greasy, cheesy grin plastered on his features.
He can feel her eyes roll into his shoulders and she smacks him in the chest, “You’re so gross.”
“Mmm.. you don’t think so,” he says, glancing down at her. “Not really.”
She glances up and he sees that today she’s wearing sky blue circle lenses, and she looks like a porcelain doll. Her nose scrunches up… and then she pulls him down for a chaste kiss. “Maybe.”
“Definitely,” he counters.
She pushes him so hard he lands in a patch of dirt. The sun is reflecting off the water and sending light ripples across her skin and as Chanyeol looks up at her smiling features, her thin lips and her crescent eyes, hair slightly mussed, he knows that this girl is his.
And he is, indisputably, hers.
--
2; taokai. pg.
“Hold my hand.”
“No.”
“Hold my fucking hand.”
“Ladies shouldn’t use language like tha-- HEY!!”
Zitao’s got the most smug grin on her face as she takes Jongin’s hand and tucks it directly into her armpit, trapping it there in the tight warmth. Jongin just whines (loudly) and people stare (blatantly) but Zitao flips her long, dark hair over her shoulder and sends him a pretty, pink-lipped smile.
“You know the punishment.”
“But,” Jongin is trying to wheedle his hand out of the soft crevasse of Zitao’s pit, his nose scrunching, “it’s too hot!” And that’s usually his only complaint because Zitao waxes and wears clinical strength deodorant and sometimes, when Jongin thinks she’s not paying attention, he’ll nuzzle right up into that crook and feel so safe and cozy and fall immediately into deep sleep.
“Then you shouldn’t have been an asshole,” she says conversationally. The mall is bustling around them and sort of giving them looks, but otherwise they’re ignored as Zitao stops at a rack displayed outside of a trendy shop, bathing suits with a sign that says “30% OFF!”. Jongin is still sulking, hand still trapped in her armpit and he looks like a child instead of a junior in high school and she looks like Mother fucking Theresa, so patiently letting him whine while she ignores him and flips through bikinis with one-handed skill.
After a few moments of the cold shoulder (and hot armpit), Jongin finally breaks down. “Taozi… I’ll hold your hand. Please?”
Immediately and with a flourish, Zitao moves her arm to release his hand from its confinement. He pulls it away (and resists taking a whiff because he loves the smell of her antiperspirant) and then slips his hot, kind of clammy hand into Zitao’s, their fingers lacing. She’s still shopping one-handed, and she’s quite a pro at it honestly, because Jongin always wants to hold her hand or have her arm around his waist or just be relatively attached to her like a barnacle. She doesn’t mind. At least, he thinks she doesn’t, because Jongin is pretty sure Zitao would (loudly) protest if she didn’t like him hanging on her like that.
“Tsk,” she tuts as she drops her free hand from the bikini rack, her nose scrunched up in distaste. “Why are there no cute one-piece bathing suits? They’re so ‘in’ right now and no stores here have them.”
“Order online?” Jongin helpfully (he thinks) suggests, distracted by the scent wafting in from the food courts.
“And get my sizes all wrong? Ugh, no. Not for a bathing suit.” She glances over and Jongin doesn’t see because his eyes are glued to Jamba Juice. However, he can feel her eye roll. “Are you hungry?”
“Jamba Juice,” he whines.
“You’re like a kid,” she scolds.
But they both know, very well, that part of what Zitao likes so much about Jongin is how childish he can be at times. She’s very doting, the picture perfect noona despite her attitude and crass words. She adores taking care of Jongin in an almost motherly role and he… well, he likes it, because he doesn’t get that attention anywhere else. Mommy issues? Probably. Zitao never asks, though, she just… accepts.
In line at Jamba Juice (because Zitao knows she won’t live in another store with Jongin pouting around) she stands, looking at the menu. She’ll even order for him - even though he’ll pull out his wallet - because he likes her taking control of the situations, being in charge, leading him around. He’s snuggled tightly into her side and he’s taller than her but she wears impressive heels so the difference today is only about two inches. He can comfortably rest his head on her shoulder as he slings his arms around her and her voice is bored sounding as she orders his drink for him, but as he pulls out his wallet and hands over the cash, he feels her jaw shift and knows she’s smiling. The barista eyes them curiously, but neither of them pay her any mind. As they wait, Jongin sways their bodies a bit, and Zitao pulls out her phone to start scrolling through weibo while they wait.
“Hey,” Jongin tucks his chin on her shoulder and shifts, hugging her from behind. She’s solid against his chest, strong and firm and he likes that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to break her in half.
“Hm?” she hums distractedly, tapping her phone screen as she replies to some sort of meme Sehun sent her.
Jongin noses the shell of her ear, feeling the ridges of the piercings slide over the tip of his nose, his voice soft. “I love you.”
He can feel her skin heat up, her body unfurl under his touch and it’s like that she loses all rigidity and strength and lets herself melt, right into his embrace.
She’s smiling wider, thumb skipping over her phone and he knows it’s because her heart skipped a beat, too.
“I love you, too.”
He takes his drink from the barista with a smile.
“Now hold my fucking hand.”
Jongin’s whine echoes throughout the food court.
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