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exobyharu · 4 years

Text

PCY - One Shot

Image uploaded by Yehet on pinterest (I found it on google lol)

Summary: PCY is salty but you’re oblivious and a stupid sh-. It doesn’t matter. He will do anything for you anyway, as long as you say thank you. 🤣

⏰4:04 AM 🌏At your place (cause you don’t have a gym membership) 🌃Just before sunrise 👥YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongin (mentioned)

Notes: I personally don’t agree with changing yourself just to please a guy that you like (but I admit that I’ve once done so! Haha 😇) Not the ideal YN here, but I hope you enjoy a sulky PCY!

Words: ~2,400

💙💙💙

Do you have spare TRX suspension things? I’ll come get them now.

Such a question coming from you at four in the morning will probably give Chanyeol a start but you think that it is just what he needs, because he is surely pulling off an all-nighter at his studio again. His message comes in less than a minute. You were right.

“Tf, YN?!”

You wait longer for a proper reply but that is all he says. You answer back, mashing the send icon multiple times out of frustration. “Has no one ever told you that it’s annoying to answer a question with another question?”

You start to feel impatient because for once, you have a valid reason for texting at this hour. It may be four in the morning, but this certain insomnia you are having is finally not a pathologic process. It’s just a thrill that’s keeping you awake – a thrill from something that happened about a couple of hours ago.

James, your co-worker, who always drops by your cubicle in the morning to collect your daily report, finally shared a late night conversation with you. It was a past-midnight conversation, in fact, and that counts much more in your Does-He-Like-Me scoresheet. This is the James whose positivity and composure makes everyone desire to be around him and whose broad and muscular shoulders are talked about by your female co-workers all the time. This is the James that holds a well-coveted position despite being in the company for only about a year; James who is so brilliant and genuine and handsome and charming and everything that you and your somewhat embellished ideals could ever conceive of.

James this, James that.

You’ve been at it for eight months now and you are thankful that the ever objective Chanyeol never gets tired of your ramblings. That’s what friends are for, right? And what better friend would he be if he actually lends you the spare TRX suspension things that he must have?

The guy calls shortly after your mini daydream. He sounds exactly as you had expected. “YN? What the hell do you need TRX Trainers for?”

“Just…” You rub your face in annoyance. Again, with that question thing. It’s about an hour before sunrise. You don’t have all the time in the world. “Just tell me. Do you have ‘em or not?”

Chanyeol finally senses your impatience. “No. I don’t have–”

“Okay then! Good–”

“Yah! Don’t hang up!”

Interrupted, you heave an audible sigh just for him to hear and get the message. “I’m in a hurry, Chanyeol. You don’t understand how this is so important to me!”

“What is? TRX Trainers? You dreaming or something? Hit your head? Gone crazy?”

“Chanyeol!!!” You yell into your phone, trying your best to understand your friend’s surprise. It is true that you never bothered to work out despite Chanyeol’s repeated invitations in the past. It is known to be impossible to reject the guy once he’s decided for himself that he’s going to convince you with persistence and determination. This was – and has remained, only until now – one matter that you never gave into.

I’m an artist. I eat healthy. You would give him all sorts of excuses and at some point, you would even fake illness to make him stop asking you to join him. This time, you realise how low it must be of you to try something you’ve once sworn to never do just to impress a guy.

It is what it is. Defeated, you decide to come clean.

“It’s James. He shared me his morning a routine and…”

You wait for Chanyeol to react but he stays quiet on the line. That’s a first, you think, partly ashamed of yourself now. The guy sure knows how to use silence.

“…and I promised to try it first thing tomorrow. One of the moves needs that TRX thing,” you continue, ending with a nervous bite on your lower lip. You start to wonder if he is even listening so you check your phone only to see that the call is still ongoing. “Hello?”

“Yeah, still here,” he finally says, and you can clearly hear his mood shift. “So, what do you need me for, again?”

“…The TRX thing,” you repeat, regretting even asking for his help. You know that he makes you repeat it so you could hear yourself. He must be deeply disappointed in you. More importantly, you could not even process how disappointed you are with your audacity, too.

“Hmm..” It’s rare for you to not know what he’s going to say next and it puts you on edge. It takes him a while. “And how many moves are there?”

“Ten.”

“Just do nine moves for now. It’s fine. Just tell your James that your world famous-friend, Park Chanyeol, is still getting one for you.”

You roll your eyes. You know Chanyeol’s back to himself whenever he throws around self-praises like that. You finally share your excitement. “He’s not my James, you know!”

“But I know you’re smiling right now because you like hearing it.”

He’s not wrong. For a second, you wonder how you had gotten so close to Chanyeol. You were never like this as children, but you did grow up together, somehow. And now, for some reason, he’s become one who would listen to you talk about absolutely anything. Not even your own sister knows about James!

“I assume you’ll wait for morning then? I’m pretty sure he’s that dude who starts his day as early as five with a workout.”

“Uhuh!” You giggle, letting your imagination run with thoughts of James with tousled hair, gulping down a bottle of water on his bedside and immediately putting on his training shoes as soon as he leaves his bedroom. Workout, meditate, breakfast, and no gadgets until ten in the morning! He says that’s his formula.

“And you’ll be Queen of Productivity, just like him, huh?”

“Uhuh!”

“Then if you do good, he’ll notice you, with or without a TRX.”

“WHAT?! But you’re still getting me–”

Your slight panic makes him chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get that spare one we have at the dorms tomorrow. It’s not mine – probably Jongin’s – but nobody uses it.”

Frankly – shameless as it is – you admit to yourself that it’s all you need to hear from your friend after all. “Yes! You’re the best!”

“I usually am.”

You end the phone call with a smile, your eyes falling on your green joggers and tank top spread on your bed where the old, potato version of you ought to be sleeping at this time. That you is gone. You’re finally taking on the morning routine of a person you look up to – and probably worship – very much.

It’s a few minutes until five and you decide to go over the workout routine, reviewing each move since it’s your first time. It dawns on you that it would have been a wise idea to ask Chanyeol for some advice, too. But you decide that you’ve bothered him enough for tonight. Besides, it shouldn’t be that difficult, right? What kind of extraordinary loser gets injured with body weight exercises anyway?

With that thought, you begin at exactly five in the morning with nothing but a piece of paper taped on the living room wall as guide. They are your messy notes that you excitedly wrote on a piece of paper while you were on the phone with James.

Squats are just like sitting on air, right? Your knees start to hurt, but as James would say, No pain, no gain. It gets you through your pushups even though your shoulders are hurting and the same mantra gets you through your planks, even though your back is begging you to stop. You don’t even know why it’s your neck hurting rather than your stomach while doing your crunches. But you keep at it all, finishing through your third set with all sorts of pain and fatigue in different places of your body. It just suddenly seems as if your body decides for itself to stop in the middle of your workout because the pain becomes too great to bear.

In the middle of your lunges, something down your leg makes a sound and soon enough, a sharp pain shoots down your foot. Losing balance, you manage to fall on the floor without hitting your head, all the while curling up in severe pain.

You immediately draw your hands to your left ankle only to regret it immediately when the pain sends you shrieking in agony. It feels like it’s going to last forever – like it’s going to make you blackout. In the middle of it all, you literally don’t know that the fuck to do with yourself, especially since your sister does not come home until mid-afternoon.

The worst part is that in the middle of it all, your phone starts ringing to a call. It rings long enough, thankfully, until you’ve given everything in your capacity to crawl to the couch and reach for it.

Chanyeol is calling.

“HELP ME!”

You scream on the phone, crying and sounding like a bear had just entered your house and your dumb brain thinks one might as well have. You are certainly being a baby, but you have never experienced such crazy sharp pain in your life. You would rather have your heart broken multiple times than suffer like this. This certainly isn’t the pain that gives gains!

You hear no answer from him, but about ten seconds later, Chanyeol shows up, walking into your place with his signature opening-the-door-while-knocking move. When he sees you, he freezes in place, probably deliberating whether or not to say something snappy before helping you out. Something along the lines of I knew you’d get yourself into trouble, trying things like this without me or This is what you get for trying so hard to please a guy. You don’t even know what the hell he is doing at your place at this hour, but you had more pressing concerns at the moment.

“Help me? Please?” You could taste the salt in your tears and hear the whine in your voice. Surely, it’s not his intention to make you beg first, right?

It takes him a second to say something. “Shit.”

And it seems to snap him back to consciousness. For a while, you had thought that he would leave you sprawled on the living room floor in pain. But he soon springs into action, tossing his duffel bag onto the couch and storming into your kitchen to fetch things you realise you need first. Wincing in pain, you watch him urgently reach for the first aid kit on the shelf above the counter and fetch a gel pack stored in your freezer. He even enters your room without asking and comes out with pain medication before filling a glass with water for you. He truly has your place memorised already.

When the sharp pain subsides and you had rubbed the tears of your face with the sleeve of your shirt, he comes back and carries you to the couch where he’s set everything near. He places your leg onto the coffee table and you whine when he finally presses the gel pack around your ankle. Chanyeol does not say anything. He just purses his lips at the sound of crying and whining.

When your breathing is even, he hands you the pain medication and you take it. “So, you injured yourself.”

Unable to speak, you roll your eyes while emptying the glass. Well if it isn’t the obvious.

He beams with a smile of someone proud of himself. “Good thing I came by, just in time, didn’t I?”

“I probably wouldn’t have tripped myself if you hadn’t called, you know!” You say it to spite him and you expect Chanyeol to know that too.

He fakes outrage – probably. “Yah! I came by just to make sure you know what you’re doing! Is that how you appreciate?”

In exchange, you decide to feign innocence. “Appreciate what?”

“Appreciate me cleaning up after your James’ shit every damn time!” he answers back with a slight raise in his voice. It makes you break eye contact but you catch him shaking his head as he storms back to your kitchen for God knows what. “Forget it.”

He keeps it brief, but you are not going to miss the undertone in the way he says it. Your eyes widen from surprise. The truth is, all this time, Chanyeol’s never shared to you his thoughts about James. You never asked, but he’s one to never hold back in the first place. He’s the guy who says what he thinks, whether you want to hear it or not. It’s this lack of pretences that makes the both of you get along so well.

Also, as much as you do not want to become an inconvenience, you’d be really ungrateful to not feel even a bit of appreciation for what he does for you. The truth is, you do appreciate it all. You just never see the need to put it out there. It’s supposed to be implicit. Or at least you think it is. You guess that you just have to say so, starting today. With the relationship you have with Chanyeol, it can be that simple, right?

A simple thank you should do.

When he comes back, he’s brought a bowl of cereal and milk this time. “Pain meds should be taken with meals. This, unfortunately, is all you have, miss.”

You manage to ignore his incisive tone and think that now’s the time. “Thank you, Chanyeol,” you tell him, taking the bowl with both hands and pronouncing every syllable with all the feelings you can muster. He doesn’t look at you. He seems really interested in the bowl of cereal that you had now placed on the table. “And I’m happy cause I appreciate what you do for me all the time. Okay?”

He groans in response to your prompt, probably not used to you saying such things. He pouts, and again, you don’t know what’s keeping his eyes glued to the bowl of cereal. It makes you stir, not knowing what he is thinking, but somehow, you get the feeling that he doesn’t know what to say either.

“Well it’s about time!” he finally exclaims, playfully tapping your nose with the spoon he’s still holding. “Not everyone gets a Park Chanyeol for a butler, you know?”

The touch of cold to your nose isn’t all that pleasant, but you manage to shrug it off, glad that you two are back to normal.

💙💙💙

- end -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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exobyharu · 4 years

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I love you, Baekhyun. Sorry I keep picking on you. 💙

#exo #exo meme #exo funny #exo scenarios #baekhyun #sehun #suho #chen #jongin #chanyeol #xiuhan #yixing #kyungso

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exobyharu · 4 years

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Disclaimer: EXO would NEVER stab anyone, I’m sure.

#exo #exo meme #exo funny #exo scenarios #junmyeon #baekhyun #kyungsoo #sehun #minseok #chen #chanyeol #jongin

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exobyharu · 4 years

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Probably not true. But just imagine...

#exo #exo meme #exo funny #exo scenarios #kyungsoo #jongdae #minseok #baekhyun #sehun #chanyeol #junmyeon #jongin

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exobyharu · 4 years

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Last one for today! Again, these are edited from existing memes (credits to the original). Just an EXO version. Thank you, RLA, for editing! ✌🏻

#exo #exo meme #exo funny #exo scenarios #kyungsoo #chanyeol #chen #minseok #junmyeon #baekhyun #jongin #sehun

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exobyharu · 4 years

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Aaand another one. :)) Credits to my tumblrless friend, for editing this.

#exo meme #exo #exo funny #exo scenarios #kyungsoo #chen #minseok #baekhyun #chanyeol #jongin #junmyeon #sehun

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exobyharu · 4 years

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Please don’t hate me. This all just happened in my imagination. I love them all! My friend and I saw a KBTBB meme on this somewhere (sorry I cannot ref) and thought to make an EXO version. Maybe it’s been done before? I’m sorry if someone has done this already! Also, to our beloved Lay, I could not find a photo of you in uniform!

#exo #exo meme #exo funny #exo scenarios #chen #kyungsoo #minseok #baekhyun #chanyeol #jongin #junmyeon #sehun

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exobyharu · 4 years

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PCY - One Shot

Image source to follow. I just Googled it like this

“You just freaking downgraded me!”

Summary: PCY knows that he’s being a five -year-old for treating you like a guy. But what’s a man to do when the girl he likes is taken? Here’s a friendly little back and forth with PCY a few days after you break up with your boyfriend.

⏰10:01 AM

🌏A deserted mall parking lot, but only because it’s not open yet

🌞The kind of sunny that makes PCY squint.

👥YN, Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun (mentioned), YBN (your ex-boyfriend) (mentioned)

Notes: It’s been forever! But I’m still alive! There’s a little mention of implied violence, but it’s all just cute, really. Sorry I take too long!

Words: ~2,100

💙💙💙

“Or you can quit telling me how to live my life, Chanyeol,” you complain, putting your phone down because you finally spot Chanyeol getting down their company car in his glorious failure of a disguise – a white cap and facemask, worn under a hoodie with the word BALENCIAGA spelled in angry bold letters across his broad back. For an idol who has spent years in the limelight, you would think that the guy had grown wiser in his choice of outfits for public places like, this instance, a mall parking lot. Even that middle-aged woman raking leaves across the entrance gives him a second look.

Who wouldn’t?

Because there is no need to walk like that – with a slight upward tilt in his head, one hand pressing a phone to his ear and the other on his hip, strutting confidently with smooth, long strides. You make a mental note to remind him that the pavement is no catwalk. It’s almost mesmerising, watching a real-life supermodel approach you, looking fresh even when his eyes are squinting hard against the mid-morning sun.

About three meters away, his voice is distinctly Chanyeol, but just a bit huskier than usual as if he is dying to put on a show. Too bad there seems to be no one else watching but you.

“It’s real! You’re here!“ he calls out anyway, extending a clenched fist – a move that you recognise is reserved for his male friends. You stare at the fist bump that never happened, knowing well what he would say if you take his bait. Something along the lines of: For a man, your hands are small, or How’s my brother in a woman’s body? or That’s my little YN-niee! which is always followed by Yah! I really wish you were born a guy!

So you stare at his hand, not sharing the level of his excitement. Shit just happened. You have too little energy to deal with Chanyeol’s fantasies of you as his younger brother. When he notices your lack of enthusiasm, his outstretched hand goes for your head and attempts to mess your hair up instead. “You must be desperate to waste money. The mall does not open in an hour.”

Just desperate to get out of my head, really.

On a regular day, you would hate even the wind for ruining your hair. But this time, his hands are surprisingly gentle. You make an effort to ignore how it feels and snap back at him, anyway. “It’s called Retail Therapy. You just don’t understand the joy of buying yourself new clothes because you never have to.”

He proudly concurs with a smug raise of his brows. “That’s true. I never have to.” It’s that attitude of his that always earns him a slap to his arm. But his fingers are playfully combing through your hair now, and you do not exactly hate the feeling. So you just let him, hoping nobody with a camera on his person ever sees this happening.

“Meanwhile, may I comment that the whole look you went for this morning is aptly low profile,” you tell him for the sake of saying something.

But what you say makes him tug at his training pants reflexively. “These?”

When he removes his cap, pulls down his mask, and appraises his outfit, you realise that he had just overlooked your sarcasm.

“Uh-huh. It totally pleads Don’t Stalk Me, Dispatch. I'm Not Park Chanyeol, I Promise.”

He chuckles. “It’s protection,” he reasons, completely getting rid of the cap and mask.

“Protection? From what? The sun?”

This time, it is you, genuinely not picking up on the joke – or pun – either way, you know that he spends quite a lot of time with his good friend Baekhyun who gives equally horrible punch lines. You have met the guy a few times and you are sure that the baffled look you had on your face is the exact same one you’re giving Chanyeol at the moment.

He seems to enjoy it. It takes him a few seconds to explain. “It’s protection from you.”

From me?

“Excuse you, but I’m the one who needs protecting!” You argue and it makes him grin from ear to ear. You realise that you had just given him the reaction he was hoping to get.

“No, you don’t,” he insists, “Based on last night’s phone call, you’re upset over your boyfriend. And do you know what you do when you’re upset, in general?”

“What?” Frankly, you know that you do a lot of things.

“You flail your arms around and hit people!” Chanyeol exclaims, and then he stretches his arms out and flaps them, trying to imitate how you’re supposed to look. It’s ridiculous how he is making it appear worse than it actually is. “You and your little man paws! Hitting innocent people all because your boyfriend made you cry again! It’s about time–””

“Yah! For the final time, Chanyeol, I am not a man! Also, must I tell you, he’s not my boyfriend anymore!”

“Shut it! You are one of us so that makes you a – wait, you… He… What?” There’s a bit of a delay, but in a snap, his energy drops, his eyes grow wide and your first point is now obviously abandoned.

“It’s what I said,” you clarify reluctantly. “And, my main point right now, please stop treating me like a guy, already!”

Chanyeol’s not hearing any of what you just said. His eyes remain on yours, searching for any hint of a lie.

He does not find one. “You’re saying… That YBN is not?? …Anymore?”

Again, the same reaction. It’s the same words, the same tone, the same look of caution and concern – it’s always the same questions every time you tell somebody new. All the repetitive explaining is starting to become more painful than the breakup itself. You hate it more than you can express. It makes you lose it for a moment and yell at your friend with careless regard for your surroundings. “You understood the first time! Why does everyone want me to spell it out?!”

That is when you realise that he is right. Your hands have a mind of their own.

“Yah! Yah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Chanyeol whines, using his forearm to fend off a jab that you were about to give him. Just as he had predicted. “Watch out because people around here will know who you’re hitting. Do that a few more times and you’ll be exposed. My fans won’t like it!”

You roll your eyes at his sudden mood shift after confirming your breakup. There’s no way you’re missing Chanyeol’s smile that is starting to inch in. He never really liked YBN. Now that you’ve broken up with the guy, you can already hear the satisfaction dripping in his voice when he delivers his much anticipated I told you so because this time, he’s right. You grumble, exceptionally annoyed, because of how right he is.

“Anywaaaay, back to why I need protecting… You’re right. He nearly hit me.”

And you wonder why Chanyeol’s pretty slow on the uptake this morning. He takes two seconds.

“What!?” Finally, his eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. He takes another second to shake his head from disbelief and then asks again. “He what?!”

This morning, Chanyeol’s a freaking cartoon. His aggravated expression seems out of place, given how much he has been confronting you about your now-ex-boyfriend’s alleged tendency towards violence. He saw it coming. Why is he so surprised? Your eyes roll.

“Relaaaaax. I’m more capable than I look. I started training for–”

“Stop that!” he interrupts, dismissing all humour from the situation. “He hit you?!” And he’s angry, possibly even more furious than your father had been. You certainly don’t remember doing anything that warranted any scolding. But here he is, getting all worked up while you stand your ground with hands in your pockets because you are starting to pick on your nails. Despite your nerves, you try to remain as calm as you could, and you are determined to make him realise that you’re not the enemy here.

“You’re not listening to me, Chanyeol! I said he nearly, and by nearly, I mean he missed. He punched the wall behind my face instead.”

You say it with a convincing smile, but Chanyeol still does not respond. He inhales sharply and looks up the sky, pulling his hair – what he does whenever he could not get his point across.

“But I’m kinda proud of myself, so thanks for asking twice,” you continue, still grinning at him and trying to keep it cool. You’re not about to just watch him blow up. Not now and certainly not here. An angry Chanyeol is not a fun Chanyeol. So you let the silence ensue as you watch him, whose eyes are still closed and is obviously putting in the effort, himself.

He fails.

“Fucking hell. Who hits a woman!?” All of a sudden, he starts to furiously rub his face against his palms until his nose turns pink. “Does he know who he’s messing with? Have you seen how small he stands beside me? I could crush him with–”

“Park Chanyeol!” You yell at him this time, because it is the only way to snap him out of it. “He messed with me. Not you. And I’ll remind you that you’re my dad’s student, not my bodyguard!”

“But I am also your friend!”

That had done it. He yells even louder, causing a dog to bark in the distance. It brings him back to the present, as you notice him consciously steal a side glance at the parking entrance, making sure nobody has come to watch the show.

When he sees that nobody’s there, he grumbles something incoherent. I’m a special friend, it sounded very much like. But he shakes his head again and promptly rephrases that. “Look, I am your good friend, first of all! I can’t believe you just freaking downgraded me!”

That you did. But that’s only because you think he’s getting too involved in this. You’ve let it go.

Why couldn’t he?

“You see, this is why I didn’t get to join your family’s dinner last Friday. Also, this is why I didn’t tell you over the phone! Look at you!”

He does. He realises that his hands are now impulsively clenched into fists at his sides, and his feet, apart, and planted to the ground as if he is preparing for a fight. With you.

“Calm down a little? I had enough testosterone when I told my dad about it last night,” you explain. You’re not about to let yourself get another round of scolding. This morning is all about recovery. “I promise I’m okay and I’ll feel even better when I get to shop for things I like!”

Your false eagerness seems to exasperate him even more. “Again, that’s a waste of money. You’ll surely buy clothes you won’t wear again!”

“How am I supposed to… Give me alternatives then!” you demand. He’s got way too much opinions any way.

But Chanyeol accepts his chance and then he goes, “Hm,” full of scrutiny, as if he has something better in mind. It turns out that he actually does. And by better, he means better by his standards. “How about I teach you how to throw a proper punch?”

“You mean, boxing?”

He nods.

And you think hell no. You eye him suspiciously, peering at him from under his cap that he had just placed on your head. “If this about making me a man, I swear to–”

“Come on, just come on! I’ll make it fun!” His mood seems to shift for good this time. “We can tape his face on the punching bag and you can pretend to be hitting him!”

“Nice try, but that only hurts my hands. It’ll make no difference,” you tell him, even though a part of you considers the idea an entertaining way to get over yourself already.

“It will, I promise. I’ll fund your next shopping spree if I don’t convince you.”

The suggestion gets you thinking even more. It’s not a bad deal, is it? You bite the bullet and Chanyeol sees that he’s got the upper hand. You both smile. “Any more benefits?” you ask. And his response comes as a reflex. “That, and I’ll make sure your punches reach him through me.”

“Park Chanyeol!”

“Hahaha! I’m just kidding!” Chanyeol promises, playfully holding his fists out in front of you. You don’t quite miss that devious smirk. “Or am I?”

💙💙💙

- end -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios #chanyeol scenario

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exobyharu · 4 years

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PCY - Ch7

I just googled this gif and dug real deep. I’m sorry idk who the owner is :(

Chapter 7 - How many kittens?

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: PCY obsesses, Junmyeon is suspicious, Jongdae is loud, and you’re not answering your phone. PCY’s sister discovers that you’re her cousin as of today.

⏰ 8:14 PM 🌏 SM Entertainment headquarters 🌝12 It’s a full moon and maybe that’s why 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun, Kim Junmyeon, Kim Jongin, Kim Jongdae, Park Yoora

Notes: The series is not dead! I’m sorry to those waiting. Update soon! Happy Holidays!

Words: ~1,500

💙💙💙

“Biscotti Girl in the pictures… @real__pcy’s dear cousin is so popular! #chanyeol #biscotti #celebritti #confetti #spaghetti”

There were a hundred thousand retweets in eight hours. Where did Baekyun say he was going again? Because Chanyeol was thinking of tossing that jackhole’s damned phone into the trash, right after pushing its owner down the stairs first.

He was no longer summoned to the main office and that was something to be thankful for. But here he was, stuck in a random conference room, all by himself, and analyzing every possible way to get you out of the highly inconvenient picture that he’d put together to save his ass. He could not reach you – you were not picking up – and frankly, it was not your obligation to do so. This had you, leaving him staring out into a picture window that overlooked the busy boulevard outside.

There was only one word he could think of whenever he thought of you, and that was intensity. With you, he would always find himself in an intense argument or stuck in an intensely problematic situation, and without you, he would be just like he was right now – bothered by such intensities, all the while, intensely worried about what to do with himself and his thoughts.

Not cool, YN. Not cool.

He just wanted to fix things, but the last look he got from you made it painfully obvious that he achieved the exact opposite. You were avoiding him, and maybe it was for the better. Besides, there seemed to be nothing else he could do but pray for everyone to let the incident go. He hoped that you at least liked the free haircut from his stylist, as much as he hoped that it did the job in keeping your identity further from discovery.

He could not get it out of his mind. One problem that still bothered him was how you would keep yourself from being discovered, especially since the photographs had almost half of your face displayed to the public. What if your friends saw the photographs? And co-workers? Would you lie about being his cousin, too? How would you lie to your family about that?

And then there was the question about the flowers. He sent you, his alleged cousin, ten dozens of pink roses. What kind of distant cousin does that? Chanyeol’s lack of an alibi frustrated him, the only silver lining being: at least the roses weren’t red.

He was abruptly reminded of the way Junmyeon’s eye kept twitching as he told him about you. Their leader was suspicious and that was an understatement. He also knew that even Yixing’s brief DM asking how are you? was him, lowkey asking what the hell is going on? The odds were certainly against him. Even Sehun was giving him the stink eye.

Along with his own self-doubt, he decided to head out. Maybe a short walk and some fresh city air would make his worries lessen.

It did not.

A couple of hours later, the sight of the rest of EXO’s members gathered for a company-catered dinner was not comforting to see. Standing by the door, he looked around and caught a few staff members sharing a small table in the far corner of the conference room. This was in celebration of what again? The thought passed him by as soon as he saw, gathered at the center table, were all of the questioning faces that he least wanted to entertain.

Seven handsome faces, one whose perfect teeth Chanyeol wanted to punch in. His pal, Baekhyun, always finding creative ways to fuck things up for fun. When he met his eyes, the singer even had this insufferable are you proud of me look, written all over his face. He thought that it was time for this little shit to say his prayers because he was going to dig a–

“CHANYEOL-AH! COME BY TO FINALLY TELL US ABOUT YOUR COUSIN?”

In slow motion, Chanyeol’s head turned to face the owner of the voice that came from the opposite side of the table. The thing about Jongdae is that he is, ninety percent of the time, blamelessly loud. But the fact that he had to be among the most sincere people that he knew made it impossible to hate the guy. Consequently, it made it even more painfully annoying for Chanyeol. How thoughtful of Jongdae to put it out there just like that. Certainly what he needed right now was to be greeted by an ever-cheerful face when all he wanted was to brood over dinner.

Fuck this.

He left the room immediately.

Universe, one point. Chanyeol, zero.

And still no answer from you. He deserved this, he supposed. It was funny how one little mistake led to consequences that were way out of proportion. He realized that it was only actually funny until he was in trouble.

He took the stairs back to the third floor and to the conference room where you waited for him earlier that day. It was the same venue that Junmyeon eventually chose to broadcast live. Chanyeol’s cameos finally proved useful. Who knew that acting would end up actually saving his life one day?

“Yah! Cut it out! She’s just my cousin!” He remembered how his insides churned with his twisted lie. It was Junmyeon’s idea to hold a live stream with Jongin, and fish for comments so they could appear to address the issue incidentally in front of thousands of online viewers. They did not have to wait long. Ninety percent of the comments were downright all about it.

“You heard it. So what is everyone going crazy about, hm?” their leader teased, while Jongin in the background was bouncing on his seat, trying to contain his bout of giggles because of a pun he could not wait to deliver.

“It’s called Obsession, Hyung! Right? They’re obsessed!!”

That, along with other horrible puns from Jongin, happened in this room. He found himself glaring at the huge wall clock and wondering what you were doing at eight in the evening. It had been eight hours since you left. It did not sit well with him to not know how you were. Neither was it clear to him why it mattered so much – why you mattered so much. You were too quick to drop him, and he ought to do the same.

And yet… He clenched his teeth – a form of self-reprimand – while reminding himself what he was made of.

Determination. He was made of determination.

And he was going to have a method to this insanity: He was going to give himself one night of being a slave to his foolishness. Tomorrow, he was going to stop thinking about you. And screw the song. He was going to write another one. So he did not have single output after being away for a couple of weeks. It was no big deal. At this point, what was the worst that could happen?

In the middle of counting today’s misfortunes, his phone finally rang. He nearly dropped it when he frantically fished it out from his pocket. His hopes declared that it had to be you. His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw that it was not.

It was not the call he had been waiting for. In fact, in that moment, he realized that it was the call he dreaded most to receive.

It was his older sister.

“A little bird told me something today,” she started in a singsong voice. As if they were still children, she used the same tone to this day whenever she had something that she could use as leverage against him.

Chanyeol pressed his face to his palms. Of course. He ought to worry about his own family first. He was no stranger to his sister’s ways. This was going to be a brief, but exhausting conversation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered, which made it plenty obvious that he knew exactly what she was talking about. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, though. This one’s just her classic style of interrogation.

“I’m talking about Biscotti Girl, of course. Or are you going to tell me that the guy in the photos isn’t you?”

How he wished he could tell her that and mean it. He told her anyway. “The guy in the photos isn’t me,” he copied sheepishly. She knew that he was begging her to let him be.

“It’s okay, little brother. You can talk to me anytime, okay? Trust me. I can understand girls better than you.” Again, this was her line whenever she thought he was having girl problems.

“It’s not what you think,” he reasoned. But she was not listening.

“I just wish that sometimes, you’d send me some flowers too.”

“Ya! I said it’s not even like that!”

“But don’t worry. I’m always on your side.”

“Would you listen to me?!”

She would not. “Consider it my apology for crashing your car. I love you!”

After finishing what seemed like a monologue, she ended the call without hearing him out at all. Younger brothers were supposed to annoy their older sisters. How many kittens did he leave in the rain in his past life to deserve the opposite?

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenario #park chanyeol #exo scenario #exo #park chanyeol scenario #exo fanfiction #kpop scenario

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exobyharu · 4 years

Text

PCY - One Shot

Image source to follow. I just Googled it like this

“Yeah, look, listen, are you uh…”

Summary: A flustered PCY? It was a close call. He was definitely going to tell Baekhyun about his minor fuck up. He may need more than “just make sure you smell good” from him. He got what he came for, though. You can’t say it was a bad idea either.

⏰ 2:10 PM 🌏 7-11, near Chanyeol’s imaginary radio station ☁️ Just immediately after a heavy thunderstorm 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun

Notes: Another one shot because I’m busy for the holidays. :( First person: It’s my first time! Next update will be on the series. Happy Holidays!

Words: ~1,700

💙💙💙

I just want to be in a proper relationship and stay in it. Instead, the only eligible guy within my social circle is my childhood’s worst nightmare, Byun Baekhyun. I know that I seem way too ungrateful, seeing that countless women would kill to be in my place, but if they had only grown up with the guy, they would know that it would be almost impossible to see him more than a pesky little brother.

Trust me. I tried.

I could barely get the facts straight in my head: He’s actually older than me – even though he behaves way too much like a stubbornly mental teenager and five hyperactive puppies, all combined in one body.

My life was set. Until last night, my life is going to be with this guy I’ve been in a relationship with for the past five years. At least until I discover that he had been cheating for at least half of it, because I turn out to be too boring (his words) for his fun-loving, go-getting ways.

I was told and it explains why I suddenly – and oh so desperately – want to try something crazy to change that. By my albeit too boring standards, a slow drive down the outskirts of the city in the middle of an afternoon thunderstorm seems like the perfect kind of reckless to me.

There isn’t even alcohol in the picture. Just me, my father’s hand-me-down-SUV-slash-motherwagon, and a bag of chips and soda on the passenger’s seat. The plan is to get moving, reach the shore in a couple of hours and make it back before it gets dark. I will bring my journal with me, binge on junk, and stare out into the sea with the liftgate as the roof over my head and hopefully a stray dog for company.

So yeah.

I am boring.

I leave three text messages anyway, for those in my Top Three Most Important People In My Life list, who have recently ascended up the ranks by default, simply because the Love Of My Life TM, is no longer in it.

I’ll be out. Be back my midnight, I tell my sister.

Borrowing the car. I’ll be safe. Driving over to Baekhyun’s, I tell my dad.

And of course, for my one and only best friend: Let’s go SuperM! Dear leader, told dad I’m driving to your place. Please don’t kill me. I just need to be at my usual spot. I’ll be safe. I promise. Enjoy your tour!

And after a couple of hours preparing and getting my shit together, my eyes are finally dry enough from all the crying. I have my favourite rain jacket on, just in case, and my journal. With my last ritual stop being the nearby convenience store, I know that I will be well on my way to the beach in a few minutes.

It’s a little funny how the thunderstorm has cleared, right when I finally decide to leave the house and head out of the driveway. So much for being reckless. Still, the skies are adequately grey, perfectly sympathising with my sentiments.

Also, why do they play sappy love songs on the radio at this hour?

I leave the radio on anyway, telling myself that I have to get used to this whole self-partnered concept. Well, for the record, it’s been about six hours into this and all I can say is that it sucks. I miss my stupid, good for nothing, ex. That’s normal, right?

Biting my lower lip, I pull up at the parking space, making sure that my brokenness and frustrations do not reach my eyes once again. Thinking of nothing but the tantalising image of the bag of Lays that I am to devour in a couple of hours, I head straight into the store, the comforting sound of door chimes signalling my entrance. I grab an extra bottle of Mountain Dew just in case, as well as a Snickers bar. And a bag of m&m’s. And a can of Dr. Pepper. And another bag of cookies.

What?

Nobody will see, save for the kind lady by the counter. What’s there to be ashamed about? I am a brokenhearted girl. That means I deserve it. That, and I’m unstoppable.

In about ten minutes, the chimes sound once again, and I am out, running back to the car even before I grab more than what I can actually eat.

“Ya ya ya, slow down!”

The startled voice is too easily recognised. I whirl around, a giant bag of salt and carbohydrates in hand, and am faced by Park Chanyeol, frozen in place with an outstretched hand.

First of all, why am I not surprised? Second of all, I already know too well, what this conversation is going to be all about.

“What a weather to be up and about. Always a busy one, our YN.”

Right. The weather. What a perfect conversation starter. And did he just say our YN? A pout grows on my lips when he comes closer. This can’t be good.

“I could say the same and have you explaining to me, you know.”

“If it gets rid of this,” he says, and presses a light finger on the wrinkled skin between my brows, “then I will tell you that our radio show got cancelled because of the storm. The station’s just couple of blocks down this street.”

Too bad for him, I’m not easily convinced. “So you’re down here, actually buying something for yourself?”

“And I can’t?”

I close my eyes, unsure if engaging in our usual banter will help nurse my broken spirit. “Don’t you have personal assistants to get you stuff when you need them?”

His shrug makes me even more suspicious. “It’s rare to have the streets empty. You know we don’t get this chance whenever we want.”

Celebrities. Right. Sometimes, I forget. My mind travels back to the time when I went with Baekhyun and his brother to catch a movie on a Sunday night. That will never happen again.

“Look, I don’t want to be blunt or anything, but…” Chanyeol comes even closer – close enough for me to smell his perfume. He must have emptied a bottle over his head.

“But …what?” I watch him take a deep breath and pause. The movement of his lips is subtle, but I don’t miss it. It’s like he’s carefully choosing his words but he eventually gives up after a few tries. Now that’s a sigh.

“Were you crying,” he says instead.

Is this guy serious? It does not even sound like a question. “Are you asking because you’re not sure?”

“It’s just your eyes. The skin around it, actually. It’s bugging out, kind of. You cried a lot, didn’t you?”

Bugging out, huh? When I don’t answer, he gets it. I hope he does.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. Call me stupid.” Now he’s frantically raising both hands in front of me as if to defend himself. The heck. I’m not going to punch him or anything.

“Damn it. Forget I asked,” he says, when I stay quiet more out of confusion than anything else. It makes him look up into the sky, muttering something that sounds very much like goddammit said over and over. He does this while he rakes at his hair with both hands and it lasts too long to be a simple show of frustration.

What now? It makes me look up too.

Just clouds. Just nothing, really.

When I glance back at him, his eyes are now screwed shut. It takes a few seconds before he finishes his deep breaths and slowly stuffs both of his hands inside the front pockets of his jeans.

Jesus, Chanyeol, quit weirding me out.

“Um, hey?”

It’s like summoning his consciousness back to earth. “Yeah, look, listen, are you uh…” He purses his lips to the side, looking thoughtful and possibly, forcing that crooked smile. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, Look, listen, I am going somewhere.” I almost laugh when I answer. Look? Listen? What’s he being so nervous about? He doesn’t need to hide anything – they would not stand a chance. I know that Baekhyun sent him. Cut the shit. I’ll be fine. You can enjoy the rest of your day. Thank you very much.

I wave him off. “Stop pretending, Chanyeol. You know already.”

“Yah! You don’t understand, YN. I just want to know…” He looks at me sheepishly, if not stuttering. “Is there beer in that bag?”

The drink did not even make it to my Reckless Afternoon shopping list. It makes me shake my head and sigh. “What can I say? I’m a terminal case of boring.”

What I said makes Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide. “That’s loaded. Wanna talk about it?”

Nope. So I cross my arms, fake indifference, and change the topic. “Did Baekhyun send you? Cause if you’re here to stop me, that’s his job. Not yours.”

One side of his lips rise – a sign that a smile is starting to ease in. He gets it. That topic’s off limits and he goes along with it. “Baekhyun…” he starts, tilting his head in thought. “He said that you would be here, yes. But as for coming here, that’s on my own volition.”

I’m sure. I snort. “Obviously, you wouldn’t let him force you.”

“Obviously,” he says back. And then nothing else.

He just flashes a perfect smile and stares meaningfully into my eyes making my brain short circuit. I don’t know what he means. My eyes refuse to process such sensory input.

Stop this, Chanyeol. Stop this now.

“What I’m saying is that this is Baekhyun’s job,” I explain, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not your responsibility. So why don’t you go and do your musician stuff?”

“Hmm… YN, it’s like this…”

I just know that I’m fucked whenever Chanyeol switches gears and transforms into the argumentative version of himself. “If your best friend feels responsible for you, then I feel responsible for my best friend. The line of responsibility can extend as far as it can go. I can even send my mom over here to watch over you, if you won’t let me.”

By experience, I know that I could argue for an entire afternoon. However, also by experience, I know Chanyeol to be the type to argue until much later in the morning. Long conversation short, I’m stuck in a hopeless situation. “Baekhyun’s right. There’s no reasoning with you, sometimes.”

And it’s clear to him that he’s won. That grin is him, claiming his prize. “That’s because I’m bright, people say.”

“You can’t stop me though. My mind’s set.” It’s a promise.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do that.”

I blink. Then what’s this all about?

“Leave your car here”, he says. “I’m just here to take you there.”

And my best friend’s best friend never takes never for an answer. I’m not even surprised that Chanyeol knows the way to my favourite place. That is how I end up falling asleep, smelling his strong perfume, with the sound of the road flying beneath the wheels of his car.

💙💙💙 - end -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios #chanyeol scenario

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exobyharu · 4 years

Text

PCY - One Shot

Originally posted by @elifzeynepk on WeHeartit

“I’ll just sit here until you fall asleep.”

Summary: Just your good friend PCY dropping by on a random night. But you’re too busy (and tired) to be his friend so that’s sad.

⏰11:40 PM 🌏In your room. 🌘Cold December night. 👥YN = Audrey, Park Chanyeol, and your brother (mentioned)

Notes: I am still alive. Work is just taking up so much of my time. This is just a short scenario that has nothing to do with the series. Putting it out there because I miss PCY so much.

Words: ~700

💙💙💙

Chanyeol much prefers coming uninvited. It is twenty minutes before midnight and a tedious Monday awaits you in a few hours. You much prefer sleeping early on Sunday nights, but you dash out those plans the moment you catch a tall figure casting a shadow from your table light at the far corner of your room.

“Audrey... Audrey-yah?”

It is a useless affair to fake sleep. He would shake you until you open your eyes, anyway. You ought to be thankful that this guy even makes time to visit you. You have seen how their schedules run a few times. He would be lucky to even have five hours of sleep a day. This is him, sacrificing rest in order to catch up with you.

It’s been two months.

That said, you push yourself out of the bed, blinking a few times without your glasses on, and try to read what is written at the hem of his hoodie. Seeing Things. I’m pretty sure that is not the case this time.

“Don’t open the lights. This is good,” you tell him, when his hand reflexively reaches for the switch by the door. “I’m sleeping in a bit. But you can take the bean bag.”

He squints, adjusting to the dimmed room. “The beanbag. Oh, there.”

And then he allows his six-foot-three person to collapse onto the poor thing, landing with a loud thump that could have killed it if it breathed at all.

“Food? Drinks? The fridge’s right behind you, okay?” you tell him.

Taking you up on your offer, he does not even stand up. His long arm reaches behind him to open it, spilling yellow light into the rest of your room. It’s your turn to squint.

“You sure like visiting at random times. You’re so lucky my brother isn’t home.”

He chuckles, snapping a can of mango juice open, and gulping it down real quick – his one big secret talent that only a few of you knew until recently. “You mean you’re lucky that your brother isn’t home. I’m not afraid of him.”

He’s not wrong. It’s not that you’re afraid of him either. It is just too much explaining what this guy is doing in here at this hour. This guy he’s never seen before. In person, at least.

“There’s that,” you concede. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“I’m here to visit. Do you even remember the last time I was here?”

You do. Five in the afternoon, with cold breakfast all the way from Japan.

“Don’t you appreciate me coming? There’s an alert on my Audreydar saying you’re not okay. So…” he pauses, making you guess why he’s standing up all of a sudden. “Here I am!”

“Your Audreydar is miscalibrated,” you insist, more because you want sleep more than a crying shoulder for the night. “I’m just the usual.”

“And your usual, Audrey-yah, is not okay.” His outstretched hands fall to his sides. “Admit it. You’re not okay and I know you’re glad that I’m here to keep you company tonight.”

“More than half -glad, maybe.”

He grins. Chanyeol’s teeth are white, even in the dark. “Works for me.”

“I have a seven to three tomorrow, though. I need to sleep, like, now.”

“Why do you say it like that’s a problem?”

You roll your eyes but he doesn’t catch it. He opens the fridge again.

“The problem is that you’re here, Chanyeol. And you’re my guest. I can’t just fall asleep on you.”

This time, he’s got his hands on your precious chocolates.

Don’t. Touch. That. Box.

Too late. He’s opened them too. He talks while chewing - just listen to him bite at those almonds. You’re gonna kill him.

“You can. Think of it as me, crashing for some chocolates. We can’t eat this stuff at the company, you know?”

“Suit yourself, then. I mean it. I’m sleeping, Chanyeol.”

“Good night, Audrey. I know you missed me.”

You do. But you don’t tell him that. You would never. “Make sure you’re gone before my brother arrives in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I won’t check your phone or touch anything that does not belong to me.”

“Good.”

“I’ll just sit here until you fall asleep.”

“M-hmm…” You close your eyes.

“I promise.”

💙💙💙 - end -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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exobyharu · 4 years

Text

PCY - Ch6

Originally posted by iyeolie

Chapter 6 - If there’s one thing clear

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)

Summary: You don’t die, Junmyeon gives you space, PCY gets unlimited punches, and Baekhyun’s a whiner.

⏰10:49 AM 🌏SM Entertainment headquarters (disclaimer: you didn’t wanna be there) 🌞Too much sun, but that wasn’t what the beach towel’s for 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Junmyeon, Byun Baekhyun, EXO’s manager, your best friend Jane (mentioned)

Notes: Happy Birthday PCY! I love you with all my heart! OBSESSION just dropped and I love how there was fire and everything. AND EVERYTHING! I’m so excited for them all. Kai’s moves are to die for. What was your favorite part of the video? Everything? Me too! That’s all kids, bye. (I’ll start doing my face like CHEN’s starting tomorrow)

Words: ~2,200

💙💙💙

One of the worst things that can happen to a non-celebrity is to be mistaken as a celebrity. You would realise in a few hours that there were at least a hundred worse things you could name, but being kidnapped from your morning walk in the hotel gardens seemed to top your Most Unfortunate Events In My Life list. You will also realise much later that it was not exactly a kidnapping that happened. But the point was that you were freaking out because you did not know who wanted your person recklessly shrouded by a beach towel and ushered to a tinted van with a startling sense of urgency that made you start hearing your own pulse inside your head.

Am I going to die?

It was nothing close to escalating to an attack of uncontrollable anxiety, however, considering that your brain preferred to panic over much more irrelevant concerns. Death was not something you were wired to fear, but the thought of not knowing what was going to happen next made the experience almost intolerable. There was nothing quite like the distress from not knowing what to do while the rest of the people inside the van fretted about what to do with you.

You did not know whether to yell or cry. No amount of coffee or muffins would make up for how the staff members – whom you had come to know were from Chanyeol’s entertainment company – had essentially abducted you. That stuff’s supposed to be against the law, right?

So, nope. You were not doing as they said. You were not going to make yourself comfortable in this pretentiously minimalistic room and lean back on the steel sofa because the door would be right behind you. You were not going to help yourself to treats that were served because you did not need sugar and caffeine – you needed Xanax. And the wi-fi password they offered? What kind of idiot did they think you were? Why would you trust people who knew your full name and where you lived without having to ask you? You did not need more information about you out there, within their easy access.

It did not matter how many times this guy named Suho, whose alabaster skin and enchantingly stunning face apologised for their relatively unconventional manner of securing you from reporters who were chasing after Biscotti Girl’s true identity. You had just recently lost your trust in handsome faces like his. Falling for handsome faces like his was sooo twelve hours ago.

Not again, you made sure, even though he may as well break his back from all the bowing he would repeatedly do after every interaction you had. Here was another one because he had just finished making a phone call outside the lounge, promptly shutting the tinted doors before a whiny pink-haired guy managed to follow in his steps.

“Forget the phone! I wanna see!!! Junmyeon-ah!”

Despite how it bustled with activity outside with so many people rushing about, it was a rather quiet holding room, with only you and this guy, whose real name was apparently Junmyeon. He bowed again, apologising probably for the twenty-seventh time – because it almost entertained you to count if he managed more than thirty – and he finally confirmed having spoken to Chanyeol. He left it at that, stepping out once more because he probably felt that this morning was already wearing your patience out.

It was the longest two hours alone for you until the glass doors finally slid apart, welcoming a less-startingly tall Chanyeol into the room. He had a sullen mood, as usual. Unconsciously, you braced yourself for another exchange of hostility, mimicking his facial expression. It turned out that the look he had was for the pink-haired guy outside.

“That guy Baekhyun’s a whiner,” he complained, allowing himself to fall onto the couch right across from you. Clearly, he was nowhere near as disquieted as you were. His apparent lack of empathy confused you. You pouted, as there was nothing but plain weariness in Chanyeol. But now, he was relaxed, as if keeping Baekhyun out of the room was all he needed to put everything in his life in order. You waited for him to address the elephant in the room.

He did not.

After a few seconds, the guy sat up as if a thought energised him. With a grin, he rested his head on his hands and faced you, beaming. “I finished the song, by the way!”

“And I can finish you,” you replied, glaring at him with a potent mix of impatience and contempt. You were a couple of twitches away from either breaking into sobs or kicking him where it hurt. “God, not even an apology, Chanyeol? Really?!”

“Calm down, YN,” he interrupted. You expected him to strike back with an even louder yell, but he did not. Instead, he scooted over, took the empty space beside you and placed a light hand on your back. “Okay, I’m sorry. I was just giving you the good news before the better one.”

You swatted his arm away. “And the better news, then?”

“There’s a plan. You can consider this Biscotti Scandal fixed.”

You tried to contain your outrage with a blink. He called it a scandal. Was it officially a scandal at this point? And what a ridiculously named scandal, at that. You went through the usual warnings, keeping your temper in check before responding to Chanyeol, whose only intent was to comfort you.

Be nice. Be nice. Be nice x1000. Your mouth was dry when you swallowed. “So they’ve stopped talking about us?”

“Well, no. But I–”

“Then you haven’t fixed anything!” you yelled, your composure wavering.

Last night, you were thankful for a chance to see Chanyeol for the final time and leave a good impression. Such impressions no longer mattered, seeing that you may have to spend even more time with him. This was certainly not what you wished for because he kept screwing up everything!

Abandoning restraint, you finally landed a series of punches – the strongest ones you can throw – on his left shoulder, which ended up hurting you more than it did him. The guy did not even show any serious effort to block your hits that probably seemed like taps to him at most. And yet you did not care because you were angry – plain and simple. Not easily tired, you retaliated when he wrapped his palms around your fists, restraining you effortlessly with lights hands. “Listen, will you? You help me this once, and they will stop. I know they will.”

Despite your relentless bawling, Chanyeol was doing a good job at pacifying your bout of anger. With an even face and a calm tone, he let go of your hands and let you punch him some more until you felt foolish for even trying. There was no way the Chanyeol you’d imagined would pull off a stoic face through an outburst like that.

“This is all your fault!” you yelled, as a final attempt to hammer down your point. You were upset with him, and he knew that. You just needed him to be aware of how hard this situation hit you. There were a hundred other places you would rather be, especially after wrapping up what was supposed to be an eventful soul search these past few days. You had an entire day planned with Jane and a mandatory meet up with your parents that evening. And now, this inconvenient morning was too quick to pass and you hated not knowing how much longer you had to stay for.

You were catching your breath, more worn out by your feelings than the colossal waste of energy you just pulled off. And Chanyeol did not say anything, possibly waiting for you to speak first. He could be a gentleman for that, or he could be waiting for your breathing to even out because he wanted you prepared for his next story.

It was the latter.

“I told them that you’re my cousin.”

His preposterous declaration left you frozen for a moment and all that happened after that was in red. You started seeing in red. You realised the next second that your foot had already landed a blow Chanyeol’s shin, and this time, it hurt him enough to make him throw his hands up in defence.

“Yah yah! Before you freak out, just listen okay? LISTEN!”

But you were not going to. You were really starting to think that Chanyeol was sabotaging the whole thing for a hidden agenda. Wasn’t it a thing? That idols like to stir up some scandals for attention when their fame seems to be waning? Wasn’t he popular enough?

Without glancing back, you stood up from your seat, cautiously avoiding Chanyeol who had pretty much figured out that you were on your way to the glass doors. Turning on your heels, you closed your eyes, as you drowned in contempt, savouring the sound of your shoes, stomping against the floor. Words in your head began to string themselves together into a smart parting line that would make it clear that you were not joining him on his bullshit. When you opened your eyes, you stopped, catching Chanyeol’s reflection on the doors.

He was on his feet, shoulders squared with hands fisted on his sides. You took notice of the skin in between his brows, all bunched up whenever he was in a sour mood. This time, it was different.

“They believed me, YN.” Chanyeol’s eyes were begging you. “My manager believed me. Junmyeon believed me. All we need to do is make the rest of the world believe it.”

“Sounds easy.” No to puppy eyes had always been your policy.

But Chanyeol innocently overlooked your sarcasm, and sat down when he finally got your attention back. “Because it is. I just need one afternoon on Instagram to broadcast it. And I need you there, doing your own thing, being you, in your house, with the rest of your family casually–”

“PARK CHANYEOL you leave my family out of this!” And just like that, you were darting back to the center of the room, finding yourself in a rare opportunity of standing taller than him for once. “Me, and my family are not going to help you propagate a lie!”

“Come on, YN. It’s easy to lie to the members. The fans are much harder to convince.”

“Is that your only problem with this plan? Why can’t you just tell the truth, anyway?”

“I can’t tell them I started a fight with a stranger!”

“Then tell them I started it!”

“They won’t believe me!”

“And you expect them to believe I’m your cousin?!”

He made a face. He was loud, but for once, you were louder. It was almost a wonder how nobody had burst into the room with all the shouting. Then again, it was much louder outside and you could not hear a thing.

Soundproof walls: perfect for your table flipping tendencies. You stared at the marble tiles, blinking as Chanyeol’s shadow loomed in front of you now.

“The truth,” he whispered.

You did not believe that you had convinced him at first, but when you glanced up, his smile was resigned. “All right. I messed up, anyway.” And then there was that split-second hesitation that you would have missed if you were not looking at him already. This was not easy for him. “I’m sorry, YN. Believe it.”

He pursed his lips as a faint shade of pink dusted his cheeks. Chanyeol, who was tremendously uncomfortable with the practice of verbally apologising outright, finally tried. This was the sincerity that you needed to appease the part of you that hated him. And it may have felt like a win for you at first, knowing that you had finally settled the matter in your terms, but more than anything, all you could think of was that you were finally going back to your own life, apart from this guy’s.

This was it – the last time and place where you would see him – or at least you tried to convince yourself that it was. Your intuition was usually on point so you merely hoped that it was truly over. True enough, a man you had not met entered the room before you could formally say your goodbye.

Chanyeol squared his shoulders, acknowledging the man who turned out to be their manager. It did not look like good news at all. “Baekhyun beat us to the announcement,” said the man in a suit. He placed a hand on his pink face as he sighed, and it looked like he had just come down from an outburst too. “We want you to confirm this once and for all.”

Just another plot twist that you saw coming two seconds before it happened. Your gift of intuition was as good as no intuition, at this point. You did not even want to look at Chanyeol anymore. He would not say anything. “You better get ready because Junmyeon is going live in thirty minutes and he wants you there. It’s up to you, Chanyeol. You can bring your cousin along, if she wants.”

You sure as hell did not. It was sad to say, but that was the only thing left clear to you now.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#happy loey day #chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction

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exobyharu · 4 years

Text

PCY - Ch5

Chapter 5 - All about you

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)...(Part 6)

Summary: PCY does not expect to see you again. Ever. Except in less than twelve hours, he’s about to, once again. This time, he admits that he deserves a punch in the face.

⏰ 9:09 AM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L) 🌞 It’s sunny but everyone’s too out of it to actually care 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Junmyeon, Byun Baekhyun, EXO’s manager (mentioned)

Notes: After a decade, I am finally back! My biggest apologies for taking forever. I tried to make this one a bit longer than usual. Expect more regular updates! I’m sorry that PCY swears a bit here too.

Words: ~2,300

💙💙💙

Twenty-one missed calls and twelve text messages on his personal phone, all from Junmyeon: they were ominous tells that Chanyeol ought to postpone his scheduled return to the studio. Just when he finally saw the wisdom in what at first seemed like punishment by isolation, his plans of returning with news of a productive break were dashed the moment he woke up to his work phone vibrating to another message, this time, from EXO’s manager.

“Who is the girl?”

The question needed no further elucidation.

Just leave her alone, Chanyeol thought, and then he groaned, pressing his face against his pillow because he was never going to see you again, anyway. What’s all the fuss about?

It was nine in the morning, and four hours of sleep seemed inadequate, considering that he had spent at least an hour packing that evening, and the rest of the night, taking advantage of the unexpected surge of inspiration that had finally come after weeks of uninspired efforts.

He was certain that this song finally had all the missing elements that the writers at SM always complained about. He, himself, was amazed by how smoothly he had managed to put something together at three in the morning, too. Still, this was the song they had always wanted from him and he was five hundred percent sure about it.

It turned out that he just needed to quit being frustratedly self-absorbed and instead, see everything in the eyes of someone else. When he did, the landscape shifted and ideas flowed in. You were the one who made this possible for him. You made him realise that it was probably more sensible to derive inspiration from what was out there, rather than generating egocentric works that other people hardly related to.

A tremendously simple concept. How had he not even considered this?

There was something about how you were able to read into his skilfully-concealed ego problems and this made him even more self-aware. It was one thing to hear it from his friends, and for that, he had been careful ever since. He was confident with the control he had on his narcissistic tendencies. But hearing it from you, who had just met him, made you an unforgettably helpful clairvoyant.

“I think that’s how you can reach out to more audiences,” you told him last night, gingerly munching on a biscotti and possibly, launching an underhanded attack on his ego. “Stop writing about yourself. Write about what’s out there.”

“Like what?” he asked you, burning with so much eagerness that you probably felt the intensity of his stare. Stop writing about yourself. That was a headshot.

“Hmm… Well, let’s see…” you trailed off, swiping through his phone, and scanning the lengthy compilation of his serially rejected compositions. You may as well be a speed reader, seeing how you had managed to reach the end of it so quickly. That was another detail that he forgot to ask you about last night. He will never know then.

“I’m sure this will sound great when I listen to it later, but like I said, it seems that this whole thing is about having a good time,” you explained, stealing a quick glance at the way he kept his fidgety fingers tightly interlocked on the table. Chanyeol caught that and made sure to keep the signs of his bubbling anxiety in check.

Just listen, he had to remind himself. What are you being so nervous about?

“Look, I’m no writer, but if you really want to write a love song, the feelings that I want to get need to be more dynamic than what all of this gives me.”

Operational word: dynamic. Again, the point was that he lacked experience and hearing about it was getting old. He leaned in closer for emphasis – also to make sure that he did not raise his voice in frustration. “You want me to write about things I don’t know?”

You shrugged, showing him the same easygoing attitude as if the idea was naturally forthcoming at the very least. “You can always write about wanting to know instead. You know, how you would rather, or think it would be? After all, people tend to yearn for things they don’t have. It’s one that we all have in common, in my opinion. It’s a universal feeling that’s relatable.”

Longing, huh?

Was it a simple insight? It seemed more like your current state of mind that slipped through. He needed you to voice out more fragments from your internal monologue to confirm his suspicion, but you did not give him that. You scrunched up your nose instead. “Not everyone dreams of a fancy car and a supermodel for a girlfriend, Chanyeol.”

Your comment made him uncross his legs. “Yah! Quit judging my life already, will you?“ At the same time, his knee hit the underside of the table. You were both startled as everything on it shook. Tall people problems. He could not seem to switch off his klutzy side when it mattered most. It made you giggle to see some of his coffee splash onto the screen of his phone. “And I’m not attracted to female supermodels!”

Growing unfazed by his usually exaggerated responses, you raised a speculative brow. “Let me guess… But female supermodels are attracted to you?”

Chanyeol flashed a lopsided grin on purpose. “I do have a mostly-female fanbase, so I can’t say for sure that–”

“Again! My main point, sir,” you interrupted, with a playful roll of your eyes. “If you wanna add to your influence, write about other things.” He almost thought that you were really going to poke his nose with your finger. He guessed that it was just your snarky side showing itself. “Be proactive and do some research by listening to other people too. I’m sure you’ll find more feelings to write about.”

Hence, that night marked the beginning of a more dynamic Park Chanyeol, who would create art and music that may deviate from the typical industrial material he felt that he had pretty much exhausted already. Creation was his passion and he had you to thank for making him realise how he had boxed himself up too much because he was afraid to express his own vulnerability, which, ought to be the point in the first place.

This was why EXO’s main rapper wrote a fucking ballad. And it was a ballad that he could not even sing. But he wrote it and it did not matter to him who sang it. He would rather have someone else do it justice. All that mattered to him was that the song made it through. He wanted to reach out to people, and strangely, it mattered to him that you heard it too. He wanted you to hear your words played on the radio someday, knowing well that you were part of the creative process. You, that girl whose shitty day he tried to turn around, and whose underlying melancholic disposition he wished to uplift but cannot.

Will you ever find what you were looking for? Will your family ever understand you? Were you really unemployed? Or was it something you chose to say so he would stop asking questions already?

He will never find out because he will never see you again. That said, SM just spent wasteful money on hiring somebody to tail him while he was away. What was all the fretting about? Junmyeon was probably going supernova over nothing of substance and their manager had to be getting drunk on his trust issues again. Both of his phones were ringing simultaneously now, and he was about three rings away from answering one and tossing the other across the room.

Junmyeon or Baekhyun? Choose your own adventure, he thought, rolling to his side and sighing as he wearily brought both of his phones close to his face. Probably for the first and only time ever, he chose Baekhyun.

“PARK CHANYEOL!”

Eyes wide and mouth in a frenzied snarl – there had to be no other look on Junmyeon who was now yelling at the other end of the line. Chanyeol was not even surprised to know that it was him using Baekhyun’s phone. It was Junmyeon or Junmyeon. There was no choice in the first place. He half expected the possibility, and just like that, his day was shot. He rose from his bed and pulled out the curtains to see the rest of the city going about its business.

A kajillion other people with stories to write about, he remembered you say. Your voice resonated from somewhere in his head, effectively drowning out the endless buzzing of the phone he held at least a foot away from his ear. When Junmyeon had calmed down, Chanyeol finally started listening in.

“… and since you would not answer their calls, everyone’s expecting me to offer an explanation. They won’t stop pestering me and I would be in a much better mood if I did not have more urgent things to do. Listen, I don’t care wha–”

“I was asleep, okay?” he interrupted, dragging his voice and feeling the weight of exasperation on his tongue. “You can send all those calls to me now. Thank you for taking shit for me.”

“Yah! Don’t hang up!”

“Then how am I supposed to talk to them?!” Chanyeol barked. It was his first instinct, knowing well that the last time he got yelled at like this was when he was falsely accused of spreading their unreleased material online. Surely, how he chose to spend last night was not as much of a mortal sin as a breach of their contract. Because just now, Junmyeon sounded like it was much worse than that.

“Forget it. We’ve dealt with the reporters.”

Reporters? The rapper’s pulse ran cold as he instantly froze where he stood.

“We just need to get you out of there with your security detail. The staff is arranging–”

“Yah! Hold up!” Chanyeol heard the nervous rasp in his voice as panic slowly claimed the frustration that initially controlled him. “What do you mean? Why are there reporters involved?”

“Of course there are reporters involved!” Junmyeon howled. “When you go out on a date looking as you are, Mister Park Chanyeol, with a girl who received ten dozens of roses from you, OF COURSE people will take pictures and talk!”

Chanyeol’s fist flew out, punching the air in front of him. “The he- …How do you guys even know this?!”

“You mean how does social media know about this? It’s all over the internet, Chanyeol. Check your phone! Check GTN27! Wake the fuck up!”

“I am awake! And I am checking my phone now!” he went, nervously fumbling for the other phone that had finally stopped ringing. His fingers trembled, not even able to key in his password properly. It sent his mind reeling, not sure about how much he wanted to find out. Did they discover who you were? Were fans stalking you already? And the media? Were you even safe? The mere fact that they knew he sent you flowers meant that they knew your room number.

“Look, I’m sure it’s not what you think. YN would not–”

“We know,” Junmyeon’s tone was abruptly much kinder and Chanyeol knew that this was because there was finally someone else with him, wherever he was. There were people, in fact. He must have stepped out of a room or something. The rapper was relieved that all the yelling was finally over, at least for now. “Listen, YN YLN? We know she’s not responsible, okay?”

“You–” he choked out, eyes wide and tilting back as the realisation finally hit him. “She’s with you?!”

The immediate response that he got was the voice of Baekhyun, distinct in the background. He was asking for his phone. A second later, Chanyeol heard a whine that was cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut. There was complete silence once again.

“Yeah. We found her before those undercover reporters at the hotel lobby did. You can thank the staff later,” Junmyeon said, his stern voice echoing through what seemed like their empty dance studio.

“Is she okay?!” Chanyeol exclaimed, his eyebrow twitching as he attempted to hold back his emotions – whatever it was that he was feeling. Anger? Worry? Extreme impatience? “Let me talk to her!”

“She’s with the staff.” Junmyeon was dismissive and it was clear that the guy was not going to let him talk to you. “People on the internet dubbed her Biscotti Girl and she hated it. That’s why she gave us her real name. She would not say anything more after that.”

Biscotti Girl? More than the ridiculous nickname, Chanyeol found himself closing his eyes and smiling in relief because it seemed that your identity was not revealed. It was all that he could ask for at the moment. The rest, he could deal with much later. This was all his fault any way.

“Don’t worry about her. I made sure she’s comfortable. Right now, we’re working on getting you here as soon as possible.”

Right. It was difficult to see sometimes, but Junmyeon was on his side. He had always been. “Now, I’ll quit it with all this leader bullshit. As your brother, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Other than dumb excuses? Chanyeol did not think so.

“I’ll explain everything to you when I get there, hyung,”

His voice was even, but his mind was racing decathlons for possible explanations that provided you the easiest way out of this predicament. If the entire company had his back no matter what mess he got himself into, he wanted to make sure that you at least had him. It had come to this, after all. He can only imagine how much trouble he’d caused you. So much for writing a song to make you feel better. The song was not even enough to save him this time.

Chanyeol pressed his forehead against the window and groaned.

You. Fucking. Genius.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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exobyharu · 5 years

Text

PCY - Ch4

Chapter 4: Tomorrow will be better

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)...(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: After some delays, you end up in the cafe with PCY just the same. You dish about life in general. At the end of the night, all hate left you and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

⏰11:58 PM 🌏Hotel (S), City of (L) 🌚It was finally raining but neither of you notice 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, your best friend Jane (mentioned), Kim Jongdae (mentioned)

Notes: I am still alive! I am so sorry that my update took too long! This is Part 4, the final part of my sort of introduction-slash-build-up for the actual story where PCY becomes a permanent fixture in your life :D

Words: ~2,000

💙💙💙

The server ushered you to the center of the café since it was the only unoccupied spot. The place was packed and ever since you stepped in, you had encountered all sorts of curious glances from the tables nearby. Maybe they recognised your companion, or maybe he was simply much too tall to be anyone insignificant. You tilted your head in apprehension, because you surely would have done the same and gawked at these spectacularly underdressed guests.

While Chanyeol was quick to brush them off, that was something you could not manage. In fact, you did not know which made you more uneasy: to have people stare at you because you looked like you had stepped out of a slasher film, or to have people discreetly eyeing the person you were with by pretending to just be facing in your general direction.

When you finally sat down across from each other, Chanyeol asked, “what are you having?” and that was a timely distraction from your thoughts. He looked blissfully oblivious to how he had managed to divert everyone’s attention to himself. You knew that he did not care. You did, though. It was uncomfortable.

“Just… whatever you’re having,” you answered, not because you weren’t fond of coffee, but because you believed that it was the polite thing to say. You also did not know what you wanted, frankly. It was starting to become the recurring theme of your life.

“Nocciola?” He said it like an invitation.

You shrugged.

Perhaps as a precaution, he ordered the sweetest drink on the list. The silence that ensued as you watched him scan through the menu made you realise that a proper conversation with Park Chanyeol is incredibly difficult compared to just heatedly yelling back at him from your suite’s balcony. You felt as if some part of your pride was softening up as you watched this guy kindly flag down a server. You were never the type to be moved just by someone’s looks and here you were, thinking to yourself that there had to be a first time for everything.

Making sure that he did not grow on you, you made it objectively clear that he was simply more perceptive than you gave him credit for. He was nice, only because he was on the penalty here - or at least he thought so.

“I just want to formally apologise to you for last night,” he said, confirming your suspicion, and for a second, the warmth in his voice made you think that he did not have to do this. You had to remind yourself about how difficult it was to arrange a room transfer to strengthen your resolve.

“Well, this is quite formal.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“It’s a bit much for an apology,” you admitted, still. Ten dollars for a shot of espresso? This place was too excessive for your taste. Whatever it was that he ordered, you hoped that it did not cost more than the money you had on you. You also hoped that he did not see through your worry.

“Could be your luck turning around. Had a bad day, right?”

Bad day? Absolutely. Luck? If a reversal of today’s luck meant having Park Chanyeol buy you a drink, then you did not want it. Your pride was not worth a tiny serving of overpriced Italian coffee.

Perhaps today was not really getting better for you. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

Chanyeol was smiling with what felt like shining endearment. “You don’t have to.”

It was too much. He was either laying it on thick, or his smile was simply breathtaking up close. Your defences needed back up. “Then tell me why you’re so nice all of a sudden.”

“I’m nice all the time!” he whined, leaning back against the velvet seat in slight exasperation. He was a good four feet away from your face now. That’s better, you thought, until he pouted. His pout was equally lovable. “Last night was… just a breaking point.”

“U-huh,” was all you managed because you were damned and that was a big problem for you. Why was it such a difficult affair to ignore his charm? You, on the get go, had established that Chanyeol looked much better if he were nice, and tonight, he was exceptionally nice. This made him, by inference, exceptionally handsome too.

He dazzled.

You focused on your hands that were gripping the cold glass of water because you could not look at him. Breathe in, breathe out. You were having a difficult time keeping yourself together. You needed another massive glass of sangria poured on you. It was almost depressing that it came an hour and a half too early.

It proved to be too much effort, prompting your eyes to meet his. How was it possible when the rest of your body seemed to misbehave, too? Your fingers would not stop trembling and your feet shuffled under the table. This was worse than public speaking, except that nothing was really at stake. There was a very handsome guy seated before you, though. That was not supposed to be a problem.

“…never wanted it, so that’s why we’re on this date right now.”

You heard the word and your head snapped up in an instant.

A date?

You counted up to five while your head buzzed with what you would always say whenever you called Jane out for swooning over Kim Jongdae: Woman! We’re not teenagers anymore! We should stop crushing on celebrities and start dating actual real people!

How did you end up in a date with a celebrity and crushing on an actual real person instead?

In your head, you rallied to disprove both counts. But if you could not refute the latter, you decided to capitalise on the fact that this time was not a date. It’s not! “This isn’t a date, Mr. Park,” you clarified, definitely not watching the slight curve of his lips as he tried to suppress his smile.

“I know, I know. I was just hoping to get a reaction from you.” He had laughter in his eyes, which made his gaze even more magnetic. “And call me Chanyeol, for crying out loud!”

“You are loud. Don’t you ever get into trouble for it?”

“Sometimes, I have to be loud to make a living.”

“Sounds like a fun job to me,” you answered wryly.

“It’s not, when your boss thinks you’re not good enough.”

“U-huh.” His remark was surprisingly loaded and you were not sure if you were willing to explore that. You left the decision up to him instead. “From what I gathered, the world loves you.”

“What a life that would be. How about you?”

He did not seem inclined to entertain the direction you suggested. And even though you were not particularly excited to tell him, a stranger if not by name, about the summary of your life’s current struggles, you decided that this day was bad enough to deserve a proper rant as well.

“Well, since I’m an unemployed post-graduate, my displeased parents want to marry me off to their friend’s equally unemployed, but much more financially endowed son.”

Chanyeol’s eyes grew bigger. “…who poured red wine over your head at dinner?”

You managed a laugh despite your paranoia telling you that two middle-aged women were now taking photos of Chanyeol’s back. You had to focus. “…whose pregnant girlfriend poured wine over my head at dinner, actually.”

He whistled. “It’s never easy, is it? Life?”

“Sounds like a backstory you’d like to share.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “Nope.”

“Can I ask you questions then?”

He considered it. “As long as you answer them too.”

Given your excellent talent for sarcasm, this was not the response that you were hoping for. You always felt vulnerable talking about yourself, but if you always veered away from discomfort, you knew that you were veering away from self-discovery as well. Besides, a complete stranger would definitely give you the most objective assessment. And even though you never expected conversations like this to go down tonight, this was just the type that you may need.

“Life sucks, but I’m happiest when I can make other people happy,” you started vaguely after a few thoughtful seconds. “What makes life more tolerable for you?”

“Same.”

“The hell???” you choked, keeping your voice in check. “You can’t copy my answer!”

Chanyeol’s smile finally eased in again. “But I think the same!”

“Explain then.”

He hummed absently in response as the server arrived to serve your drinks. You breathed in the sweet scent the coffee placed on the table, only opening your eyes when he finally started talking.

“Tonkatsu,” he said, taking a sip from his drink. “Tonkatsu makes me happy. And performing on stage. With thousands of fans. Hearing them sing to our songs as we dance on stage with lights illuminating everything and confetti falling everywhere around me. That’s when I’m happiest.”

When you said nothing, he grinned. “Too detailed?”

“Not the details I’m looking for, but I guess it’s enough to paint a picture. It must be nice to be a superstar.”

“The people who matter are those who support you. Ignore everyone else who doesn’t. You don’t need to be a superstar to know that.”

“So, only your fans matter and your boss doesn’t. Is that what you’re saying?”

He playfully pointed a finger at you. “That is exactly what I’m saying. In fact...” Trailing off, Chanyeol turned to the bag beside his seat and fished out the only thing that could make a musician so thrilled. It was a signed copy of his album with some other guy that Jane would probably recognise with her eyes closed.

Seriously?

It was impossible for you to mirror his excitement, but you did not want to be rude. “What is this?” you asked instead.

The guy’s smile was beaming at you, no doubt eager to see you react positively. “It’s our subunit’s EP.”

Unfortunately, you were not one to fake it to be kind. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Even though, like I said, I’m not actually a fan.”

“Oh, but you will be, when you listen to it later!”

With that, you did not argue any further. It was enough that he believed you already and soon enough, the rest of the conversation flowed without effort. He even ended up telling you about why he was there in the hotel, and why his mentors think that isolation was a great opportunity for uninfluenced introspection and creativity. In return, you shared pretty much everything, including those that you refused to tell even Jane. It was not until the cafe was closing that the both of you realised that it had been at least a couple of hours since you sat down and started talking. Regretfully, with only Chanyeol’s EP as a souvenir, it was time to leave.

You took the elevator back to your floor that night feeling easy, having had a once-in-a-lifetime café conversation with an insanely handsome, remarkably perceptive and contagiously cheerful stranger. You could not remember the last time you enjoyed spending an evening, just being yourself without fear of being judged or told off. Maybe part of it was because you knew that he was what you would call a passerby – a person that you would meet once and never see again. For that, you had nothing to lose. And unlike last night, he turned out to be capable of sweet when he put in the effort. Even sweeter was the inviting scent when you entered your unit as you discovered the giant bouquet of pink roses that adorned the living room table like a centrepiece. On it was a note, written in sloppy handwriting and for some reason, you knew who sent it. Chanyeol must have had it delivered to your room while you were at the café and you could almost hear his voice as you read the message.

Tomorrow will be better. I promise. - PCY

And so you fell asleep with the visual memory of your favourite passerby’s smile, wrapping over you like a warm blanket. Only for tonight, you promised yourself. Tomorrow, you will leave the memory of meeting this wonderful person behind.

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios

13 notes · View notes

exobyharu · 5 years

Text

PCY - Ch3

Chapter 3: Could you believe it?

(Part 1)(Part 2)... (Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: Your day was quite the show and PCY believes that he could do something about it. You finally give him the benefit of the doubt.

⏰ 10:52 PM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L) 🌘 Too many clouds, it threatened to rain 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, your parents, your parents’ friend’s son, and a bunch of other minor characters mentioned

Notes: I’ve been busy lately (I finally got accepted after a job interview! 🙃) But I’m writing two updates because this one’s pretty short. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Words: ~1,500

💙💙💙

What did I do to deserve this?

You had been asking yourself this question quite often these past few weeks, but you had never found yourself questioning why so bitterly until tonight.

This day – this cursed day – was not the day you signed up for. Your psychiatrist always advised against making lists on how bad your day was, let alone how else you would have wanted it to be, so you were not going to do that. Still, you knew that you’d had enough the moment a pregnant woman materialised from nowhere to pour sangria on the rocks over your head because your family-arranged date – this beef jerky, she called him - was said to be cheating on her with you. That summed up your eventful dinner that ended with you, leaving the restaurant without your pathetic date, while you walked back to your hotel in your white dress that had pretty much turned blood-red.

So that happened.

You made a mental note to tell your parents to quit setting you up with their friend’s son from now on. Along with this was your promise to not explain anymore because arguing with your dad never ended well. There was nothing more annoying than feeling your toes sticky under the straps of your heels and that was enough suffering for one night.

The doorman was quick to assist you the moment his eyes chanced upon the state of your dress. “I’m okay,” you waved at him, even though your body language said don’t touch me, instead. You could not fault him for panicking because you did look like you had murdered a beast somewhere in the rose gardens.

“Just a wine accident, sir.”

You earned a similar reaction when you entered the lobby, only this time, more eyes were on you. It was a little late in the evening, but having about ten pairs of eyes turning to stare at you all at once was a bit overwhelming. You gave the front desk a quick thumbs up to reassure them that neither the hospital nor the cops had to be called, but even before they were able to say anything back, they were cut off by someone who was calling for you.

“YN???”

The voice came from a hooded figure seated in one of the lofts at the far side of the lobby. You squinted and saw that he was wearing a mask as a disguise of some sort. No problem. Somehow, you were sure to recognise who it was from now on. Park Chanyeol, you though bitterly, the guy you needed to apologise to because it was already past ten in the evening. Why did he have to catch you entering the hotel? You had hoped to never run into him again. Still, you paused, maintaining eye contact as a form of acknowledgment as he hastily made his way towards you in quick, long strides.

Standing now at a couple of feet’s distance, his height was still as overwhelming as the last time you saw him. You felt small and even smaller as you noticed how his eyes quickly scanned through your face, your ruined dress and then all the way down to your sticky heels. After that, he pulled the mask off his face and said, “you look like shit.”

There was no offence taken because he was absolutely right. You looked like shit and that could have been an understatement. There was no other way that you would describe how you looked. The tone in how he said it was also simple and matter-of-fact. Why bother thinking up a smart remark when you were too tired for that too?

“Thanks,” you said, a genuine frown accompanying your approval. “I probably deserve this for standing you up.”

Chanyeol mirrored your expression. “You…” he trailed off, and you could tell that he realised how there was not really a good answer to what he just said. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like that. You just… Here, cover yourself, will you?”

Cover myself? you thought, almost laughing because wasn’t it too late for that? You were one elevator ride away from a change of clothes.

It was not only until the guy took off his jacket and draped it on you that you realised how cold it had been, walking out there in the streets in your dress that was half-drenched in alcohol. His jacket that was still warm from being worn, pressed down on your shoulders and provided comfort that you did now know you were needing. Even though it was silly how it was huge – your dad’s jacket was not even close to how loose it felt – wearing Chanyeol’s felt like laying on warm sheets on a cold winter day. Or drinking hot chocolate by your bedroom window on a rainy night. Or simply, a hug. Yes. It was an indirect hug.

“People are looking at you,” he said, bringing your thoughts back to where you were. You glanced around and indeed, some new people were filing in and you did not even notice. Maybe you ought to stop thinking about Chanyeol’s hugs, no matter how bad your day had been.

“It’s all right,” you retorted. You made your way to the elevators, away from sight. “I already walked three blocks down the street looking like this.”

“You what? Why? What happened?” Chanyeol screwed his eyes shut for a second and combed his fingers through his hair as if the thought was too bizarre that it gave him a headache. “How’d you get all this red stuff on you like this anyway?”

You sighed because elevator was still a good twenty floors away. You took your frustrations out on the glowing button instead. “Someone poured wine over my head so it spilled down my dress. What does your imagination tell you?”

“That’s crazy.”

“I know. Shit, right?” You had seventeen floors to go. Sixteen. Fifteen. It took a while for Chanyeol to say something. His breathe has heavy before he spoke.

“…Shit indeed. You wanna talk about it?”

It was your turn to pause. Your mind quickly revisited these past few exchanges you had. They were very brief, and not one of them even was close to pleasant. They were not conversations that would have ended with a pleased to meet you or a hope to see you around. First of all, you were not pleased to meet him, and nope, neither did you really want to see him around.

And yet you were not entirely comfortable with what you wanted and what you did not want. “Right now?” you questioned, in a tone implying that maybe, if it meant some other time, you may agree to it.

“Maybe after you’ve taken a shower and changed?”

You had five floors left to decide. Four. “It’s almost eleven, Mr. Park.”

Three. Two. One. When you looked up, Chanyeol was smiling.

“I know. I’ve been waiting for more than three hours. Could you believe it?”

His smile made you decide to go.

This was why, thirty minutes later, you found yourself standing outside the hotel rooftop’s posh café, regretting your choice because you had forgotten to put on makeup. You knew that your barefaced state made absolutely no difference for Chanyeol – he had seen you looking much worse just earlier – still, everyone else was impeccably dressed to spend the remaining couple hours of the evening there. It was something that you had overlooked: you were at the penthouse of Hotel (S).

Sweatpants and a baggy shirt with Chanyeol’s oversized jacket slung on your arm made you appear perfectly out of place. Even as you saw the rapper approach you, dressed in pretty much the same fashion with a simple backpack on one shoulder, there was nothing about how he carried himself that hinted commoner.

Ethereal.

It was how an online article described Park Chanyeol when you Googled him up the night before. You were finally agreeing with it – all of it, that the hundreds of people on the comments section raved about. You saw this as he gracefully stepped out on the elevators and walked down the path to the café. When his eyes found you, it was easy to notice how much better he looked without the skin bunched up in between his brows, and his chin pulling down on his lower lips to force a grin. Just this once, the legend about his looks had merit because you were sure that it only applied when he was not being a douchebag.

“You look great.” You could not help it. The compliment had to be said. When he got closer, you would have made a comment about how he smelled different today too, but that did not make you observant. That made you a creep.

And a creep you were not.

“I usually do,” Chanyeol responded, and you allowed that. With a subtle shake of your head, you found yourself smiling at the character that he was and the way you kept on vacillating between liking and disliking it. You could not make up your mind. At least the evening had a fifty percent chance of getting better.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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exobyharu · 5 years

Text

PCY - Ch2

Chapter 2: Sometimes, it works that way

(Part 1)...(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: Chanyeol vs the world and Chanyeol vs himself, featuring his well-planned attempts at damage-control. You don’t make it too easy for him.

⏰ 11:12 AM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L), but you transferred to the 38th floor now 🌤 Sunny, summer morning, and it’s almost as sunny as Chanyeol’s mood 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongin (mentioned), Kim Junmyeon (mentioned), Chanyeol’s sister (mentioned)

Notes: This is part 2 of my PCY series. Hope some of you like it! He’s much nicer (to you) now, at least at the end (sort of). PCY may have dropped a couple of curse words here and there, but that’s all I have to warn you about. PCY says he’s sorry!

Words: ~1,900

💙💙💙

Chanyeol hated it, that his new composition was turned down yet again, by their over-qualified and impossible-to-please producers at SM Entertainment because, for probably the fourth time this month, it’s about time you stopped making your lack of experience show in your love songs, no matter how heartfelt you think your lyrics are.

He also hated it, that his sister borrowed his Mercedes Benz without permission, and only called to inform him that she had unintentionally defaced it once again by crashing it against a tree – and it’s even the same tree as last time.

Jongin also left a voice message earlier that evening to tell Chanyeol that he had misplaced the keys to the private studio. But it’s okay and there’s no need to panic because the interns and some staff members volunteered to help me look for it. Jongin apologised for always losing and breaking his senior’s belongings and promised that he won’t let anything like that happen again. Newsflash: Chanyeol hated his promises too.

When all of that happened in a span of three hours, along with Baekhyun’s persistent calling and mindless whining as the sweet cherry on top, it was only last night that Chanyeol finally discovered how things would blow up.

There’s a distinction between a bad mood and an ill temper, he would constantly remind himself. There is a limit to what behaviour is acceptable. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that he forgot to give himself the pep talk recently. This was why his adviser’s worst nightmare finally came true: Last night, on the balcony of this suite room, Chanyeol abandoned all caution, emptied himself of patience, and mindlessly acted on his frustrations as if the world owed him a proper outburst.

The rapper was weak on his knees when he remembered how he lost his shit and ended up taking it out on whom he thought was one of their group’s obsessive fans. What made it worse was that you apparently turned out to be an unsuspecting stranger who was not even up to anything remotely intrusive. Chanyeol was certain that whatever transpired from last night’s interaction with you was most probably typed out already, in some group chat or online page and it was only a matter of hours before his phone was ringing to a call from his enraged manager or worse, from Junmyeon, who always preferred to express his brotherly concern by packaging it as a mouthful of obscenities instead.

Much like last night, Chanyeol spent the early hours of the day, collapsed on the suite’s ridiculously oversized bed, pondering and unable to think of answers for his life’s profound existential questions.

How many ex-girlfriends did he need on his badge to write a love song that would pass SM’s extensive quality control? What kind of genius did Jongin have to be in his past life to be so remarkably scatter-brained now? Bench presses were bench presses. How was he going to teach Baekhyun how to cheat on his reps when he, himself, never did? Most importantly, why was his sister such a terrible driver?

The whole process was mostly a one-way conversation with the luxurious finish of his suite room’s coffered ceiling because much like the answers he could not produce for himself, he had to accept that some things in general were simply beyond his control.

He could try to cut down that stupid tree, though. The dumb task was two bumper repairs overdue.

With newfound resolve, he also made sure that he spent the next few hours after his morning shower rehearsing the, albeit extra kind, words that he would use when explaining to his manager, to Junmyeon, or even to the company’s CEO, if you had managed to blow the whole thing out of proportion. When he called for room service to have breakfast delivered, he even inquired about how to send a massive bouquet of flowers to the occupant of the suite room beside his, simply because fuck ups like last night were not allowed to be in Park Chanyeol’s record. Ever.

About a few minutes later, a delicious tray of espresso waffles and sides finally arrived at his doorstep, along with a message that the suite room right beside his had been emptied just last night. It was at this moment upon hearing the hotel staff’s message about the female occupant transferring to another room, that the rotting sensation at the center of his chest returned in an instant. He ended up not eating much of his breakfast and crushing his face against the silk on his pillow seemed to be the best course of action instead.

This is all your fault, so you fix, he thought incoherently, hoping that blaming himself again brought more clarity. He thought back to last night, trying to remember how much he had told you and if it were truly enough to rile you up, prompt you to file a report, and transfer to another room.

He could not even recall if he said a couple of bad words or not.

Pursing his lips as he walked the tightrope in between discouragement and desperation, it did not take long for him to decide to give it a go and call the front desk. Even though he was familiar with hotel policies, and even though it was another item on his endless list of things that he hated, not to mention too much against his principles, it looked like he was willing to overlook the misuse of his VIP status to have his way just this once. It was promising that his phone had not buzzed since he had woken up, but the fact remained that it was now, or later, when irreversible damage was done and Dispatch was already camping out at the hotel lobby downstairs.

So he did as he rehearsed, and it was almost nauseating how it took too little effort to get the details that he wanted. Something in his gut roiled when he had to emphasise his name as if his identity were a badge that can be used to proclaim himself qualified to make such a special request. Your full name, YN YLN, along with other personal details that he did not ask for, were disclosed to him without the need to impose or even lie.

Nevertheless, he got what he needed and Chanyeol hoped that it was worth the brief moment of shamelessness. Again, he comforted himself that damage-control in itself was a pain in the ass. And even though hating himself for resorting to this method was even more exhausting, it had to be done in order to move forward with his plans of setting things straight.

Press 0, and then after the beep, 3815.

He did not expect it, but it plunged his nerves into a state of panic when he started dialling your room number. Maybe he was afraid of you and what you had to say - more specifically, about how many of your friends already knew about last night’s exchange. Were you even going to speak to him? Did he even want to speak to you? The compromise was to put the phone down after five rings and send the damn flowers instead.

You answered exactly after four long rings. “Hello?”

“Yah!” he yelled, the couple of rehearsed lines he had prepared, instantly forgotten. “Why’d you move?!” His nerves pretty much took over and Chanyeol knew that he was not angry. It was beyond him if this distinction was not clear to you.

Still, your voice on the other end of the line remained impeccably calm. “Um, may I know who this is?”

“It’s Chanyeol.” In his years of performing in front of cameras and audiences, the rapper had never thought that introducing himself could elicit so much frustration.

You paused. “…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t remember last night?!” he yelled again. Immediately, the distant sound of his own voice made him cringe. It was an effort to ignore how it reverberated inside the room. He tried to clarify much more kindly now, but his attempt gloriously failed the moment he started. “It’s Chanyeol! Sexual Fantasies, Park Chanyeol!”

Your sigh that followed was a bit over-dramatic and it looked like he had done it again. “I know, okay?! I mean I know it’s you! You made last night pretty hard to forget, and I don’t mean it the way other girls in your head do. I was just unsure about apologising because you’re the one who explicitly told me to stay out of your way.” You were clearly getting worked up and it was too bad, because so was he.

“And you really thought I meant that?!”

“I still think that, seeing that you wouldn’t stop yelling at me! I only transferred to make the both of us happy, okay?”

“Do I sound happy to you?!” It was not a pleasant feeling to hear you sigh after every sentence because he realised that it was no longer just his reputation on the line. Chanyeol was not called the Happy Virus for nothing and he genuinely felt that he was putting down a lot of people by causing someone else’s distress. Ironically, this infuriated him even more. “You didn’t have to change your room and I’m not happy that you did!”

“Then that makes only me.” Your voice from the other end was dismissive and dripping with contempt. “Looks like your day will suck, Mr. Park, but please, let me enjoy mine.”

“Yah! Don’t put the phone down!”

“Seriously, Chanyeol, what do you want from me?!”

“Just stop hating!”

“I will if you leave me alone!”

“It doesn’t work that way!”

At this point, the conversation became all about talking over the other. It took a few more out of the both of you before Chanyeol realised what an idiot he had been for the past two minutes. Stress had really done a number on him lately.

Relax.

Catching his breath in the brief silence that ensued, he allowed his pride to crumble in the name of ending all this bullshit between the two of you. He was just tired, more than anything else. Releasing the tightness on his throat, he modulated his voice to suit the tone that he would effortlessly use when speaking to a fan – or his mother.

“Just… meet up with me, will you? There’s this café at the top floor.”

“No thanks. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“What stuff?”

“Stuff that’s none of your business, obviously.”

Your answer made him press a hand to his forehead. You mean stuff that’s non-existent, obviously, he thought with a roll of his eyes. What kind of idiot did you think he was? Though it did not look like much on paper, he decided that all the painful overthinking and planning had already gotten him this far and it was impossible for him to take no for an answer.

“Tonight then? I’ll be there by 7.”

“No, Chanyeol. I won’t be there.”

“That’s great! I’ll wait for you.”

And then he hung up the phone too soon, which was his underhanded way of making sure that you did not have the change to decline any further. What he did was almost rude, but Chanyeol promised to make up for his bad manners tonight instead. Even though he would not consider the conversation a step towards the redemption of his ruined first impression, if he got you to show up, he was sure to not waste his chance. Now, all he had to do was figure out what stunt he was going to pull off in order to make up for being a stupid shit last night.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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exobyharu · 5 years

Text

PCY - Ch1

Chapter 1: Nothing’s a coincidence

(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: You didn’t die because you weren’t exactly trying to. Also, Chanyeol does not want you to take pictures.

⏰ 10:46 PM 🌏 42nd floor of some fancy hotel (S), City of (L) 🌚 Moonless night, but light pollution drowns the stars out 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongdae (mentioned), your best friend Jane (mentioned)

Notes: A little mention of suicidal ideation, but nothing really happens. Not even close. And I love you, PCY. How he acts or what he says here has nothing to do with his true nature or his real opinions on anything. It’s fiction! All from my head. Hate me, not PCY. Jk. No hate please.

Words: ~1,900

💙💙💙

Even though your hands were loose on the railings as you leaned too far over the edge of the balcony, you were not afraid. Frankly, despite your volatile impulses, better judgment prevailed. You were not going to kill yourself - that much you were certain of. Not tonight. But just what would happen if you did manage to lose your balance and tip over? Wouldn’t that be a way to go?

It was almost like a curse to stay where you once worked abroad and if you were to be honest with yourself, it should not feel like this. It had been years. Three? Four? You did not keep count. In your efforts to leave everything behind, your mind would refuse to consciously to take you back – to depict an accurate picture of what happened, how, and why.

Because your brain would not cooperate, you only trusted your psychiatrist who prescribed you three daily tablets that you would take on time, more often than not; and a change of environment, which you had been pursuing for the past six months. This was why you decided to move back to your home country, in hopes of putting the past behind you, and starting anew in the same city where you once grew up as a child.

You’re pretty darn privileged if you have all the time to be depressed, you remembered your mother saying over last night’s phone call, and frankly, it did nothing to lift your spirits. If your mother had intended it to be a wakeup call, you ought to let her know that it only made her loving daughter spend the entire day sleeping in and unable to come to terms with her not-so-wretched circumstances.

And now this loving daughter was draining all of her internship savings to spend five straight nights in a ridiculously overpriced suite room at Hotel (S), as her final attempt at self-exploration after constantly moving from one neighbourhood type to another. This city was your last stop and here, you hoped that what you were looking for at a proverbial level was already patiently, and eagerly awaiting your discovery.

Whether you liked it or not, you had to work soon. And if you did not know what you wanted, it looked like you were going to take your parents up on their offer of an old-fashioned arranged marriage and take over your family’s small business enterprise in your hometown.

If the problem is within you, it won’t matter where you are. You got this, you willed, as the evening breeze gently shook the umbrellas by the sky pool just a couple of floors below. The air was surprisingly cool and thin, which was a sharp a contrast to how humid and saturated with smog it was about forty floors down. And maybe it was just you, but when you closed your eyes, the wind made you feel as if you were truly by the shore.

Somehow, an unusual minty scent managed to reach you too. It smelled more like musk, now that you focused harder. Or almonds? You screwed your eyes shut even tighter to concentrate on what it was exactly.

Vanilla?

“You okay over there?” a voice called out.

Certainly, it was now more than just your nose – or your head, for this matter, that was messing with your senses. As far as the functional part of your brain can remember, the voice in your thoughts never spoke to you in clear baritone.

So despite the distrust that you equally harboured for all strangers, you did mean to look past the frosted glass boundaries of your balcony territory to what seemed like an even more spacious accommodation that was your neighbour’s. There, you saw him: a tall and remarkably well-proportioned guy, whose princely face you cannot quite put a name on yet. If only you could get him to drop the cautious glare - because you swore that even though you looked like it, you were not going to jump - maybe you would remember. Anyone would recognise his smiling face. Anyone who had wi-fi service, a television, or a pair of legs to take the subway to work. You knew that you did, even though you had only been back in this country for about a month.

“I recognise you,” you responded, as an immediate segue to conveniently avoid the lie, while passing to let him in on your pity party. You would have spent a few seconds ignoring his reaction while pondering how rude you may had just been, but as your eyes travelled from his nameless face and down to what was written on his purple pullover hoodie, all that overthinking flew right by you.

The words SEXUAL FANTASIES were printed in bold, right across his chest.

You chuckled. He did too, although you were not entirely sure what that was about.

“S-sexual fantasies, I know,” he finally said with a cheeky grin after what seemed like a split-second of hesitation. His cheeky grin though made it unclear to you, whether he was pertaining to the jacket or himself. Sensing the ambiguity and seeing the face you were making, he made a gesture of tugging at the hem of his jacket and pointed at the print for emphasis.

That did not really help. But okay.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find a world-famous somebody right next door,” you started, almost smiling. “BTS, right?”

In response, the guy craned his neck sideways as if telling you to think harder. When you did not, he finally figured that he had to correct you himself. “That would be EXO, actually.”

EXO. Right.

It was your only other guess. Your friends only ever mentioned those two groups to you, anyway. It was a regretful matter, how you paid so little interest in what they always gossiped about in your group chat. Now, all you could do was avoid eye contact and read the words on his jacket over and over with an unfocused stare.

“R-right,” your mouth said, because the awkwardness was escalating quick. “Kim Jongdae?”

Instantly, the guy’s smile fell and it made your unease quickly turn to embarrassment. Not only did he catch you in a rather intense olfactory investigation while you were on your tiptoes, sniffing with your eyes screwed shut and your nose up in the air, you even got their group name wrong even though you had a fifty percent chance of guessing it right.

And now here you were, fucking up three times in a row, calling this man Kim Jongdae as a knee-jerk reaction, only because your dumb mouth had a mind of its own and that mind only knew to speak that name. This dashing guy’s mouth, on the other hand, despite his forced smile, was now revealing to you a perfect set of teeth that confirmed your mistake because Jane always raved about this certain Kim Jongdae’s adorably mis-aligned lower incisor. In terms of Kim Jongdae’s appearance, you at most knew that much. Besides, because of your best friend, you only ever listened to the vocally-gifted balladeer’s painfully sad music.

Still, this person was certainly not Kim Jongdae.

Ultimately, you gave up and let your head fall to your hands. There was no way that you were meeting his eyes now. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to be a fan anymore, I’m sorry.”

Nameless™ probably made a face before saying, “funny, because a lot of fans like to book rooms next to ours and pretend that they don’t know us.”

“What about coincidences?” you asked nicely, and his answer came almost immediately.

“What of coincidences?”

You did not like his tone very much, but you had to make sure that it was not just your imagination. You decided to finally face him and what you saw was the same guy, looking as smug as he sounded, with his chin tilted upwards and his arms crossed. He towered right beside the glass baluster that separated the two of you and now, you noticed how much taller he looked up close.

Still, that had done it for the short-fused you. Ten-feet-tall or not, you were not going to take anything from a dignified snob. Mirroring his body language, you took a step forward, making sure to remember the smell of his perfume as a warning sign to leave the balcony as soon as possible next time.

With one deep breath, you looked at him and said, “honestly? I truly don’t care who you are or what you do. The hotel just got me this suite room and I only happen perfectly match your fan demographic. I’m just saying that this time’s a coincidence.”

“Well then, I’m just saying that maybe you’re pretending to pretend. Maybe this time isn’t a coincidence.”

You blinked rapidly in astonishment. How was this guy a freak for arguments as much as you were? He was basically just like you, stubbornly distrustful and borderline hostile, just taller and much more attractive, which in your opinion, only contributed more points to his intimidation and shade factors, respectively.

“You’re a lot cynical, you know that?” you told him, surprisingly more curious than upset this time.

Unfortunately, the observation made Nameless™ more upset than anything else. “I don’t care what you think. I just don’t appreciate people who call themselves fans but do not respect our privacy. All the way up here? Come on. We’re people too!”

“Uhuh,” you responded, his exasperation not getting through you because only a fraction of your attention entertained his minor outburst. Your fingers were busy flying over the keys on your phone, going over the roster of the world-famous EXO and trying to find the name of this world-famous jerk before you.

Park Chanyeol.

“Got it. This is you, no?” you finally asked him, who was now looking up to the sky, arms still crossed and skin still bunched between his eyebrows. When he turned to you, you waved your phone at him, showing a photo of a Park Chanyeol of the smiley variety that the world knows, wearing a similar sweatshirt and some kitty headphones that one of your friends has. “Look, I know you must be tired of having stalkers follow you everywhere you go, but trust me. I’m not one of them.”

The rapper only seemed to believe the first part of what you said. “Look, just stay out of my way, all right?”

“Stay out of your way? I was minding my own business here, you know?” You answered back. You could feel your voice rising along with your temper once again, but he was no longer listening.

“…and no pictures,” he told you, waving you off to head back inside his room, making it clear that you had just ruined his night.

Left alone sighing on your side of the balcony, you figured that it was at least an eventful evening for you. Also, for the record, at least tonight, you had a discovery and it was something that online pages would probably never say and those die-hard fans would never know about The Park Chanyeol: He’s tired and he’s done. He’s just so done he takes it out on anybody.

And if he wanted you to stay out of his way, then so be it. It was the least you can do. If it was to prove a point, it was just like you to take it that far anyway. After all, relocating to another room was for free and you would not seem to enjoy staying in a balcony right next to his either.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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