[fic] fated (2/?)
Title: Fated (Time Travel, AU) chapter 2/?
Author: pwnew
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho (Homin) some side pairings as well
a/n: no beta. open lj cut "read more" in new tab for white background; also slow building (-ish not horribly slow) homin
Summary: Yunho turns up in the early 19th Century. There, he meets the dashing young rake, Lord Shim Changmin. According to this handsome stranger they’ve known each other half their lives, and the costumed man seems determined to rekindle their old friendship...
~ chapter 1 ~ chapter 2
“That is the most bollocks explanation I’ve heard in my entire life.”
Yunho staggers back against the wall of the shed, a mix of rock and wood scraping at his back. An eclectic arrangement of tools he didn’t know half the names of lined the walls, on a separate shelf were multiple sized saddles and riding blankets of various colors and delicate, laced patterns. The sharp smell of ammonia was making his head spin, along with the intense burning in his upper-right shoulder. Twinges of pain ran down his arm, and it twitched sporadically. He shifted on his feet, slipping slightly on the dirt covered ground, and attempted to support the pained limb with his other arm.
A young man, not six paces in front of him, lifts an empty pail above his head, sidestepping the carrots that lay scattered on the dusty, hay covered ground. A toffee colored mare had boxed herself into the opposite corner of the stall, away from the two humans, nostrils flaring and stomping the ground in agitation.
Yunho’s eyes darted to the large, upset animal, then back to the equally anxious young man before him.
“It’s true.” Yunho replies calmly, straightening his frame to convey the honesty of his words.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair in increasing trepidation, pulling at the end of the strands. He looks around the multiple stalls, all containing various sized and gendered steeds and chews the inside of his cheek. He was exhausted, and in pain, and utterly confused. All he remembers was falling asleep in his grandfather’s attic, the sound of bells, a strange dream, and suddenly he was being stirred awake by a high-pitched cry of bewilderment, followed by a heavy hoof imprinting itself into his shoulder.
“You want me to believe, you somehow just happened to waltz onto the grounds without effort, passed the guardsmen, passed the lock on the stable doors without a single key to the three tumblers, and mysteriously found yourself waking in the cabin, nestled amongst the countries finest thoroughbreds, with absolutely no recollection of how you got there in the first place?” The young man huffs disbelievingly. A few strands of white-blond hair float up from puffs of uneven breaths, revealing features almost feline in nature; especially in the slant of his eyes and the naturally pursed mouth.
“Yes, I swear it’s true. Why would I want to steal a horse? I’m not a thief!” Yunho pleads, frazzled; not knowing how else to placate the boy before him.
It’s not like he planned on spending the night there, in what must have been some farm on the outskirts of the city, or a rich families vacationing home. Perhaps he had been dumped there in the morning? Though that still doesn’t explain how they’d collected him from his grandfathers home without his notice. A part of him wonders if this whole series of events was some sort of prank concocted by some of his more ‘creative’ friends.
Yunho adopts a childish pout. He hoped his obvious injury would be enough to deter them from attempting to surprise him like this again. However...the unimpressed look in the blond boy’s stare make him rethink that this was all a prank. He didn’t bat a single eyelash at Yunho’s attempts of an explanation, nor the pained way he held his limp arm, and simply raised his pail higher at his words.
Yunho shoved himself further back against the wall in response to the threat. As he keeps an eye on the boy’s temperament he examines the strange style of dress; almost stranger than waking up in an entirely different location than which one fell asleep. The youth was dressed uniformly in a loose, white long-sleeved shirt with a neck-cloth tied in a floppy bow at his throat. Over that, was a plain brown waistcoat. The boy’s thin legs were encased in strange, grey, tight-fitted trousers with attaching suspenders, the ends of the pants tucked into stained, calf-high boots.
It was strange, dated. The type of Period European style Yunho had only seen in his old high school history textbooks. He looked as if he’d stepped straight out of a Jane Austen novel. Yunho bit his lower lip, and glances down at his own loose clothing, feeling bizarrely underdressed.
The boy follows his gaze, his grip on the pail lowering slightly as he surveys Yunho’s own clothing.
“The tailoring on that jacket is impeccable, such craftsmanship,” The blond murmurs under his breath. He inches forward just a touch, fingers twitching as if fueled by a sudden desire to feel the texture of Yunho’s leather jacket on his skin. “The superiority of the structuring alone easily denotes higher value that any of the master’s leathers. How much did you pay for such artistry, might I ask? One shilling? A half-crown? Surely no more than a full-crown...“
The sudden interest in his clothing dampened as the blond’s gaze reached his lower half. His light pink lips twisted in distaste.“What strange trousers you wear; far too loose and boxy for any true elite member of society; the jacket barely saves the entire composition.”
Yunho feels awkward at the youth’s assessing stare, not entirely catching all of the mumbled jargon, but still feeling oddly chastened. He felt like it was his first day of high school all over again, and the older students were all judging his appearance, of which obviously did not fit in with any others choices in style.
“KIBUM!”
Another young man; taller than the first, with thick, artfully tousled curls, and a concerned grimace launches himself through the doorway of the stables, disturbing the calming horses once more.
He made long strides up to the both of them, taking a broad stance in front of ‘Kibum’. His mouth set in a firm line; a blazing glare burned through Yunho, causing him to slump against the wall of the stables in a growing sense of alarm.
“Minho.” Kibum gasps, as he stares wide-eyed at the broad back before him.
“I heard your shouts from the library. Who is this man?” Minho’s eyes continued to flare. He shifted to stand in front of the other boy, outstretching a hand as if to conceal him from Yunho’s sigh. “He hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?”
Yunho swallows his growing unease, and tilts his head to hide his eyes under his fringe. While the ‘I will cause you harm if I have too’ aura around Kibum had lessened, he was getting an entirely different read from this ‘Minho’.
The statuesque youth had the air of a prince. His strapping form was incased in garments of obvious quality; far better than the Kibum’s own thin frocks. The collar of Minho’s cream-colored shirt was down, a ruffled carvat jutting out from his chin, tied in a excessively complicated knot. Over which he wore a thick, amethyst, velvet riding coat that buttoned down one side, the chest pocket embroidered in silver thread with the design mimicking some sort of family crest. He was also wearing those strange, tight, pant-leggings that buttoned high at his waist, and thick polished riding boots.
He didn’t find it a joyful coincidence; the two young mens primeval appearances. Either the world had gone crazy while he was asleep, and decided fluffy collars and man-tights were back in style, or his ‘friends’ has dropped him in the middle of a Renaissance fair.
Minho squints, and takes long strides to stand over Yunho. Large, dark, frog-like eyes flitted to the shoulder Yunho was still holding, giving it a weary scan. The slight concern filled Yunho with a minuscule hope for his wellbeing. The curly-haired youth towered over his slumped form, inspecting his features and clothing closely.
“He doesn’t look like the usual drunks or tramps that make their way back here on occasion.” Minho outstretched a hand as if to turn Yunho’s cheek, the space between his brows creasing. “But why do you look so familiar?”
“I don’t --” Yunho starts to reply, his cheeks heating at the close appraisal.
Before he could finish the three of them went paused at tight, clip-clop of hooves outside the wide barn doors. It was accompanied by the whinny of horses, and the crunch of turning wheels on dirt. Kibum immediately set his pail on the edge of a thick wooden fence, and pushed open the doors, sunlight filtering into the shadowed cabin and across Yunho’s face, making him squint.
Taking opportunity, Minho forgoes all former concern over Yunho’s shoulder and grabs the neck of his jacket roughly, all but dragging him out of the stables to throw him to his knees onto the damp earthly ground.
Yunho yelps, in shock and pain at the sudden rough handling. He barely manages to catch himself with his good hand before he face plants into the mud. A horse nickers some meters from his prone position. He looks up blearily to see a unfamiliar sight.
Two pale, grey-speckled stallions bridled and tethered to a ornate black carriage stood, halted before him. A footman in plain black wear, similar to Kibum’s, was stationed at the drivers bench holding the reins, while another jumped down to assist the passengers with the door to the carriage. The curtains were drawn, so Yunho can not see who, or what, lay within.
“Auntie Sung Ryeong--!”
“Contessa Ryeong--!”
Auntie? Contessa?
Minho left Yunho on the ground to gallop up to the carriage doors, waving the footman off as he reaches to personally open the carriage door.
A slippered foot, incased in emerald satin slips from the body of the car, followed by the brim of a lace-lined bonnet; dark, bronzed locks tied up beneath, and a swoop of fridge concealing the right side of a porcelain face.
She descends from the carriage with leisure, patting her nephew’s curly crown, rather than taking his offered hand. Yunho stares at the modest, forest-green pelisse, paired over a beige muslin shift that hugs her womanly form gracefully. She is a regal woman a woman of bred aristocracy and effortless sophistication.
A woman not from his time.
In the seconds it takes for her dainty slippered feet to meet the muddied ground, her quick eyes have found Yunho’s staggered form. She blinks, openly startled at his rugged appearance. A thin, dark, brow raises precariously as her gaze rests between Kibum, who's shifting his weight to either foot, to the frown and creased brows of Minho’s hovering form.
Her stare gradually lowers back to Yunho, and a gloved hand raises to hide the curious smile blooming on precocious red lips.
“Well now, what do we have here boys?”
---
a/n: changmin and yunho meeting next chapter; hope my readers enjoyed :)
Author: pwnew
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho (Homin) some side pairings as well
a/n: no beta. open lj cut "read more" in new tab for white background; also slow building (-ish not horribly slow) homin
Summary: Yunho turns up in the early 19th Century. There, he meets the dashing young rake, Lord Shim Changmin. According to this handsome stranger they’ve known each other half their lives, and the costumed man seems determined to rekindle their old friendship...
~ chapter 1 ~ chapter 2
“That is the most bollocks explanation I’ve heard in my entire life.”
Yunho staggers back against the wall of the shed, a mix of rock and wood scraping at his back. An eclectic arrangement of tools he didn’t know half the names of lined the walls, on a separate shelf were multiple sized saddles and riding blankets of various colors and delicate, laced patterns. The sharp smell of ammonia was making his head spin, along with the intense burning in his upper-right shoulder. Twinges of pain ran down his arm, and it twitched sporadically. He shifted on his feet, slipping slightly on the dirt covered ground, and attempted to support the pained limb with his other arm.
A young man, not six paces in front of him, lifts an empty pail above his head, sidestepping the carrots that lay scattered on the dusty, hay covered ground. A toffee colored mare had boxed herself into the opposite corner of the stall, away from the two humans, nostrils flaring and stomping the ground in agitation.
Yunho’s eyes darted to the large, upset animal, then back to the equally anxious young man before him.
“It’s true.” Yunho replies calmly, straightening his frame to convey the honesty of his words.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair in increasing trepidation, pulling at the end of the strands. He looks around the multiple stalls, all containing various sized and gendered steeds and chews the inside of his cheek. He was exhausted, and in pain, and utterly confused. All he remembers was falling asleep in his grandfather’s attic, the sound of bells, a strange dream, and suddenly he was being stirred awake by a high-pitched cry of bewilderment, followed by a heavy hoof imprinting itself into his shoulder.
“You want me to believe, you somehow just happened to waltz onto the grounds without effort, passed the guardsmen, passed the lock on the stable doors without a single key to the three tumblers, and mysteriously found yourself waking in the cabin, nestled amongst the countries finest thoroughbreds, with absolutely no recollection of how you got there in the first place?” The young man huffs disbelievingly. A few strands of white-blond hair float up from puffs of uneven breaths, revealing features almost feline in nature; especially in the slant of his eyes and the naturally pursed mouth.
“Yes, I swear it’s true. Why would I want to steal a horse? I’m not a thief!” Yunho pleads, frazzled; not knowing how else to placate the boy before him.
It’s not like he planned on spending the night there, in what must have been some farm on the outskirts of the city, or a rich families vacationing home. Perhaps he had been dumped there in the morning? Though that still doesn’t explain how they’d collected him from his grandfathers home without his notice. A part of him wonders if this whole series of events was some sort of prank concocted by some of his more ‘creative’ friends.
Yunho adopts a childish pout. He hoped his obvious injury would be enough to deter them from attempting to surprise him like this again. However...the unimpressed look in the blond boy’s stare make him rethink that this was all a prank. He didn’t bat a single eyelash at Yunho’s attempts of an explanation, nor the pained way he held his limp arm, and simply raised his pail higher at his words.
Yunho shoved himself further back against the wall in response to the threat. As he keeps an eye on the boy’s temperament he examines the strange style of dress; almost stranger than waking up in an entirely different location than which one fell asleep. The youth was dressed uniformly in a loose, white long-sleeved shirt with a neck-cloth tied in a floppy bow at his throat. Over that, was a plain brown waistcoat. The boy’s thin legs were encased in strange, grey, tight-fitted trousers with attaching suspenders, the ends of the pants tucked into stained, calf-high boots.
It was strange, dated. The type of Period European style Yunho had only seen in his old high school history textbooks. He looked as if he’d stepped straight out of a Jane Austen novel. Yunho bit his lower lip, and glances down at his own loose clothing, feeling bizarrely underdressed.
The boy follows his gaze, his grip on the pail lowering slightly as he surveys Yunho’s own clothing.
“The tailoring on that jacket is impeccable, such craftsmanship,” The blond murmurs under his breath. He inches forward just a touch, fingers twitching as if fueled by a sudden desire to feel the texture of Yunho’s leather jacket on his skin. “The superiority of the structuring alone easily denotes higher value that any of the master’s leathers. How much did you pay for such artistry, might I ask? One shilling? A half-crown? Surely no more than a full-crown...“
The sudden interest in his clothing dampened as the blond’s gaze reached his lower half. His light pink lips twisted in distaste.“What strange trousers you wear; far too loose and boxy for any true elite member of society; the jacket barely saves the entire composition.”
Yunho feels awkward at the youth’s assessing stare, not entirely catching all of the mumbled jargon, but still feeling oddly chastened. He felt like it was his first day of high school all over again, and the older students were all judging his appearance, of which obviously did not fit in with any others choices in style.
“KIBUM!”
Another young man; taller than the first, with thick, artfully tousled curls, and a concerned grimace launches himself through the doorway of the stables, disturbing the calming horses once more.
He made long strides up to the both of them, taking a broad stance in front of ‘Kibum’. His mouth set in a firm line; a blazing glare burned through Yunho, causing him to slump against the wall of the stables in a growing sense of alarm.
“Minho.” Kibum gasps, as he stares wide-eyed at the broad back before him.
“I heard your shouts from the library. Who is this man?” Minho’s eyes continued to flare. He shifted to stand in front of the other boy, outstretching a hand as if to conceal him from Yunho’s sigh. “He hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?”
Yunho swallows his growing unease, and tilts his head to hide his eyes under his fringe. While the ‘I will cause you harm if I have too’ aura around Kibum had lessened, he was getting an entirely different read from this ‘Minho’.
The statuesque youth had the air of a prince. His strapping form was incased in garments of obvious quality; far better than the Kibum’s own thin frocks. The collar of Minho’s cream-colored shirt was down, a ruffled carvat jutting out from his chin, tied in a excessively complicated knot. Over which he wore a thick, amethyst, velvet riding coat that buttoned down one side, the chest pocket embroidered in silver thread with the design mimicking some sort of family crest. He was also wearing those strange, tight, pant-leggings that buttoned high at his waist, and thick polished riding boots.
He didn’t find it a joyful coincidence; the two young mens primeval appearances. Either the world had gone crazy while he was asleep, and decided fluffy collars and man-tights were back in style, or his ‘friends’ has dropped him in the middle of a Renaissance fair.
Minho squints, and takes long strides to stand over Yunho. Large, dark, frog-like eyes flitted to the shoulder Yunho was still holding, giving it a weary scan. The slight concern filled Yunho with a minuscule hope for his wellbeing. The curly-haired youth towered over his slumped form, inspecting his features and clothing closely.
“He doesn’t look like the usual drunks or tramps that make their way back here on occasion.” Minho outstretched a hand as if to turn Yunho’s cheek, the space between his brows creasing. “But why do you look so familiar?”
“I don’t --” Yunho starts to reply, his cheeks heating at the close appraisal.
Before he could finish the three of them went paused at tight, clip-clop of hooves outside the wide barn doors. It was accompanied by the whinny of horses, and the crunch of turning wheels on dirt. Kibum immediately set his pail on the edge of a thick wooden fence, and pushed open the doors, sunlight filtering into the shadowed cabin and across Yunho’s face, making him squint.
Taking opportunity, Minho forgoes all former concern over Yunho’s shoulder and grabs the neck of his jacket roughly, all but dragging him out of the stables to throw him to his knees onto the damp earthly ground.
Yunho yelps, in shock and pain at the sudden rough handling. He barely manages to catch himself with his good hand before he face plants into the mud. A horse nickers some meters from his prone position. He looks up blearily to see a unfamiliar sight.
Two pale, grey-speckled stallions bridled and tethered to a ornate black carriage stood, halted before him. A footman in plain black wear, similar to Kibum’s, was stationed at the drivers bench holding the reins, while another jumped down to assist the passengers with the door to the carriage. The curtains were drawn, so Yunho can not see who, or what, lay within.
“Auntie Sung Ryeong--!”
“Contessa Ryeong--!”
Auntie? Contessa?
Minho left Yunho on the ground to gallop up to the carriage doors, waving the footman off as he reaches to personally open the carriage door.
A slippered foot, incased in emerald satin slips from the body of the car, followed by the brim of a lace-lined bonnet; dark, bronzed locks tied up beneath, and a swoop of fridge concealing the right side of a porcelain face.
She descends from the carriage with leisure, patting her nephew’s curly crown, rather than taking his offered hand. Yunho stares at the modest, forest-green pelisse, paired over a beige muslin shift that hugs her womanly form gracefully. She is a regal woman a woman of bred aristocracy and effortless sophistication.
A woman not from his time.
In the seconds it takes for her dainty slippered feet to meet the muddied ground, her quick eyes have found Yunho’s staggered form. She blinks, openly startled at his rugged appearance. A thin, dark, brow raises precariously as her gaze rests between Kibum, who's shifting his weight to either foot, to the frown and creased brows of Minho’s hovering form.
Her stare gradually lowers back to Yunho, and a gloved hand raises to hide the curious smile blooming on precocious red lips.
“Well now, what do we have here boys?”
---
a/n: changmin and yunho meeting next chapter; hope my readers enjoyed :)