#mingyu scenario

Anonymous asked: I’ve been rereading Imprinted and I was wondering if you’d ever do a headcanon on when Bomi shot Mingyu like you did with Bomi and Jaehee’s mate? I just want to know more about what happened but I understand if you don’t want to

a/n: okay this ask was sitting in my inbox for a long ass time bc i forgot about it lmao. but fun fact!!!! in the original svt imprinted i planned on actually writing all of that out in his first part and it was gonna be the first thing that happened in the part, but i felt it wasn’t super necessary and made it kinda long. but here’s the backstory!!! (and yes this is a prequel to the first part). but to the anon who requested this: i am so sorry for being so late ily

Warnings: guns and blood!!! but if you’ve read the story you know that nobody dies

Mingyu part 1|Mingyu part 2|Imprinted Masterlist

• so as we know, Bomi used to be a werewolf hunter
• she was with Namjoon’s crew and was assigned a mission on her own, but Yoongi promised to be waiting for her when she was done
• because the two were really close
• her mission was to kill the pup of Seungcheol’s pack in an attempt to have some sort of start to getting rid of the large pack and to have a bit of an upper hand
• because the pack would be too distraught over the loss of their brother to retaliate right away, so then they could strike
• now, before meeting Mingyu, Bomi despisedwerewolves
• her parents were killed by werewolves but we already knew that
• so she was fine with having to go in and fuck up Chan’s day
• meanwhile, Chan had no idea what was about to come
• the pup had a really late class that day and was just getting out
• it was already dark outside but Mingyu was waiting in the parking lot to pick him up
• did Bomi know that? of course not
• she just knew that Chan would be alone and that was the perfect time to make her move
• she was waiting by the fence at the edge of the parking lot. it was dark and not near any streetlamps, and it was right by the woods so she could drag him away and do it
• as he was passing by, she lunged out and put a cloth laced with silver in his mouth, gripping it behind his head and dragging him backwards into the darkness
• but out of the corner of his eye, Mingyu had seen his brother walking over, and then he saw a shadow and Chan was gone
• naturally, he went to investigate
• Bomi managed to spin Chan around despite his struggling, shoving him to the forest floor and aiming her gun at him
• in Chan’s panic (and with his mouth, y’know, burning) he had no idea what was happening, but now he sensed it. he knew what she was and what was going to happen
• “Bye, puppy,” she smirked
  
• a growl ripped through the silent forest as Mingyu lunged out of nowhere and pushed Bomi up against a tree, her back slamming into it
• and then it hit them both at the same time
• Mingyu’s red eyes softened, his expression falling and his teeth no longer bared
• Bomi’s eyes went wide and the first thing she felt was panic
• this wasn’t right. it was against everything she believed in. what was she supposed to do?!
• Mingyu’s face was inches from her, so her first instinct was to shove him away
• and in her confused panic, she did the only thing she could think to do
• she shot him
• the silver bullet hit his shoulder, and with a hiss of pain, Mingyu fell to the ground beside Chan
• Chan stared at his brother in horror, and then looked up at Bomi with a mix of hurt and confusion
• his eyes filled with tears knowing silver could kill Mingyu
• looking between the pup and his brother, she actually felt…bad. why did she feel bad?
• ‘because you’re no better than them now,’ she realized
  
• like monsters had taken the people she loved from her, she was taking someone Chan loved from him
• she were the monster
• “I-I…” Bomi stammered, but she didn’t know what to say. she didn’t even know what to do, she was just frozen in place
  
• the pup was suddenly on top of her, and her back was hitting the ground
• since Chan had taken her off guard, her gun fell from her hand when she hit the ground, so she had to fight back with her arms and legs
• but she wasn’t doing that for long because Chan was suddenly pulled off of her, and then she was staring down the barrel of her own gun
• above her, Mingyu’s face was set in a grimace and Bomi thought she was definitely in trouble
• “Call Seungcheol,” Mingyu told Chan through clenched teeth
  
• but Bomi was in a different kind of trouble than she thought
• then he managed a hint of a smirk as he told her, “You’re coming with us.”

20:23 (i love you so.)

pairings: kim mingyu x g/n reader

genre: angst, some fluff, mutual pining, (un)requited love, reader likes lying to themselves, exes but also !soulmate au?

wc:1.7k

(a/n: kind of my first serious drabble on this blog, ya’ll i dont even know what this is. i just blacked out and started typing shit at 1 am last night. was originally supposed to be around 20k aka a full length fic but hmm. gyuldaengies i am here to inform all of you with regret that i am one of you now /j. music inspo for this was ‘i love you so’ by the walters, feel free to listen to it as you read this steaming mess! special thanks to @beyoncesdragonand@praninllove for being the sweetest hypepeople ever pls)

Loneliness strikes the hardest when one hopes for company.

You nearly trip on the extension box uselessly lying on the floor with oodles of wire splayed out uselessly. You had forgotten to reel it back in after using it for your laptop last night. Who in their right mind lived in a bedroom with a singular plug point? You briefly reminisce about Seungkwan nearly punching the life out of your landlord before moving out of this apartment the both of you had originally agreed on cohabiting. The tiny smile that makes your lips curl up is involuntary but definitely not unwelcome. Where was he anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be here with Chan already? You whip out your phone and cradle it between your head and your neck before squatting down to reel all the excess, neglected wire from the extension box back in.

The phone rings, and it doesn’t take long for your best friend of five years to pick up and growl unabashedly.

“We’re still on our way, (name). Stop calling!”

Your neck cracks, and the mobile almost slips as you whip your head to look at the clock on your wall. “On your way from where, Jeju? What in the world is taking you so long?”

There is a windy yell followed by a smack on the other end of the line. You also hear lots of panting, and that’s when it clicks.

“You’re..walking to my place.”

“Our ride broke down.” It’s Chan’s voice in your ear now.

“Well damn.” You get up and dust your pants a little before shoving the cursed wire filled box under your bed with your right foot. You really didn’t care how convenient it was at this point, you were never going to use it again for the foreseeable future. “How far along are you?”

“We’re on the bridge!”

Too late for them to go back then. Maybe they could crash at your place for the night before they got their crap together, it wasn’t like they lived ten minutes apart from you after all. You tell them this, and they agree. You end the call after you hear Seungkwan threatening to hurl Chan off the bridge for walking close enough to him to constantly end up stepping on his toes.

It’s hard not to let their chaos affect you. You feel a little ready to have fun, a little young and reckless despite all of that dreary paperwork sitting on your coffee table. Most of it was due on Monday. Was today Friday already? ‘Course it was, that was why Seungkwan and Chan were coming over. Movie nights were a tradition the three of you had followed since your university days no matter how hard life was going down on you. It was a tradition you followed even when you were at your worst, why would you jam the brakes on it when the only thing holding you back was an ugly stack of papers?

You weren’t inherently an organized person, but you were willing to try every once in a while. You scuttle around the apartment, intently scouring all the rooms for anything out of place. Existing seemed a little easier on days like these, days when you didn’t have to worry about everything at once. Days like these were like a hot balloon slowly drooping down to the ground just for you. You could climb on and feel lighter, you could feel yourself float away from everything that haunted you on all the nights you couldn’t will yourself to go to sleep.

The doorbell rings. Pizza guy or your friends?

It was neither of them. Your hot balloon deflates a little, and then it pops, harshly flinging you back into reality.

“Oh.”

Why was hehere?

Mingyu’s eyes widen when they fall upon you. He looks confused, a little frustrated even. He’s dressed to impress, with his hair neatly slicked back and a (riskily positioned) Rolex on his wrist. Heat rushes to your neck, because you’re suddenly growing very aware of your messy bun, your bare face and your unbelievably embarrassing Totoro pajamas. The primal urge to pat yourself down was growing exponentially by the minute.

You resort to staring blankly at the unopened bottle of wine with a pink bow around its neck dangling from his hand for almost a full minute before you look up at his denim jacket and clear your throat. “Can I help you?”

The confusion in your voice seems to stir him out of a stupor you didn’t know he was trapped in. He was fumbling for his phone now. “Sorry uh, I think I got the wrong door. I had no idea you lived here.”

His tone is a little distant, just like yours. You wonder when your friends would swoop in to save you from this mess of an interaction.

“Okay.”

Mingyu looks the same. It’s not like a person could drastically morph into a stranger in such a short span of time. Interacting with him was inevitable with that soul bond you both had. You two were always somehow bumping into each other at the worst places and times imaginable. That split he had razored into his eyebrow that you had noticed for the very first time when you had catastrophically rammed your trolley into his very full one at the convenience store nearly a week ago was still there. Maybe it had dulled a little, you couldn’t tell. You make the rookie mistake of unconsciously looking for that ever present mole on his cheek, and you almost bite the tip of your tongue when something familiar, something so delicate and longing threatens to seize your breath.

The opposite poles of a magnet were meant to pull each other with a lot of force, but what if they didn’t want that? Ironic. Mingyu did feel like everything you could ever possibly want, but why did he also feel like something too good to be true, something you could never have?

You’re brought back from your reverie when he coughs a little into his fist before the call connects and he raises the slightly cracked screen of his phone to his lips. “Hi babe, I think I got your door number wrong? Was it not 314?”

He was probably on a date then. Was it okay to assume? You’ve never heard him call any of his friends “babe”, so. It didn’t really matter to you anyways. It was another one of those silly little mistakes, him colliding with your day like this. He was going to leave soon, you could go back to waiting for Seungkwan and Chan, and before long, the three of you would be buried neck deep in the plot of a chunky psychological thriller. Everything was going to be fine, you weren’t going to let this ruin your day anymore.

“314? I’m at 314 though?” He’s still here, and he’s still on the phone. His hands were moving a little too wildly for someone carrying a wine bottle. Why was he even holding the neck of the bottle like it was the hilt of a sword? Wasn’t he supposed to be holding the body?

Foreshadowing was one hell of a bitch. You were right, unbearably so. There were glass shards everywhere, and all you saw was red. You weren’t seeing red because you were mad, there was red wine all over the welcome carpet right at the entrance of your apartment.

“Fuck.” He’s bending down haphazardly, panic lacing his actions. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t-”

“That’s alright.” You’re almost swatting him away from the ground, away from all those glass shards. The last thing you wanted to do with your time tonight was spend it with Kim Mingyu at the E.R. “I’ll clean this up, don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? You mentally curse yourself for sounding so stupid as you walk further into your apartment to get a dish filled with water, a wet rag and some disinfectant to get rid of all the sour wine smell. He’s still standing outside when you return, and you’re positive he’s staring at you when you messily fold your sleeves to start tidying up the floor, to start tidying up the pandemonium threatening to spill from the broken wine bottle inside your heart. “You don’t have to run late to your-” you catch yourself in time-”whatever, the bottle technically crashed inside my apartment, I can fix that myself. Just buy a new one or something.”

Maybe this was all you could do for him. A man you once knew, a man you (once, emphasis on the once) loved. You could let him go. You could clean up the mess you were maybe partially responsible for and wish him the best.

Maybe this was the only way you could care now.

Mingyu’s eyes narrow a little at your words. You try not to groan audibly when he (finally) steps inside and crouches down right beside you. Your shoulders are touching, the proximity is too much for you, and you try not to pop a vein when he pulls out a wet rag from a bucket and starts collecting all the small, dangerous glass pieces with quick, deft movements. This was out of your hands then, the fucker was definitely going to stain his denim-fuelled ensemble now.

“Ibroke the bottle inside yourplace, it doesn’t make sense for you to be doing this.”

Cool. How were you going to tell him you were doing it because you wanted him to be gone as quickly as possible and not because you didn’t want him running late for his date? It’s a little too domestic for your taste, the both of you hastily arguing over which corners of the room you were going to cover. It was waytoo domestic, the way he had to stretch his arm over your shoulder and pick up an ugly piece of green glass you had previously missed. You try your best to not grow comfortable, you try not to let the warmth from his demeanor seep into your bones.

You fail miserably.

“(name).”

“Mm?”

“It’s not a date. she’s just a friend.”

Your heart cracks a little. A bitter laugh bubbles from your lips as you throw down a fresh rag on a particularly wine-soaked spot a little too aggressively for your taste.

“Right. I never asked, though.”