#Human Computer Counter Choreographies

[renjuseyo]

mean ; jun

group: seventeen

pairing: wen junhui / reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis: junhui thinks you’re the shortest and snarkiest person he’s ever met. you think he’s the tallest menace that society has to offer.

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: explicit language, sexual humor

this is purely self-indulgent, a little something i whipped up because i just need a little junhui in light of everything that’s happened. this is my first reader-insert fic, but who knows? might make more if it gauges good responses :>

you’re slinking out of your best friend soonyoung’s bedroom, groggy from sleeping so late. having stayed the night, you two stayed up playing video games and binge-watching anime before ultimately falling asleep on each other, though soonyoung had woken up earlier than you to attend dance practice.

it’s currently one pm, and he’s supposed to be at practice for an hour longer. so you’re surprised to see him slipping off his shoes at the entryway with his friend chan, and...

your face instantly sours as you see the 6’0 tall menace that comes in the form of wen junhui, the computer science major who lives to torment you.

soonyoung notices you leaning on the door frame, arms folded and face puffy. “oh hey bestie, i thought you’d still be asleep! i brought jun and chan over, i hope you don’t mind.”

the look you give him shows that you definitely do mind, especially since junhui’s presence is enough to ruin your mood. he can tell that, too, sending you his signature smug smirk. “you don’t need permission to invite people to your own house,” he replies.

you roll your eyes and walk past the trio and into the kitchen. “i’ve been with soonyoung through his worst phases, i think letting me stay at his place is the least he could do.”

you can hear soonyoung and chan deeply immersed in a conversation about choreography, but you’re too occupied on getting some food in your stomach. you scour through his kitchen, peeking through drawers and shelves, only to find that there are no signs of ramen.

“soonyoung, where’s your ramen packets? they’re not where they usually are!” you holler.

there’s a brief pause. “in the cabinets!” he yells back.

just your luck. as tedious as your height is, being short and all, you suppose it makes you an expert at climbing cabinets. a shelf connoisseur, if you will. you sigh and clamber up the cabinets, knees propped on the counter when you hear someone shuffling behind you. someone’s snickering in the back, and you roll your eyes. you don’t need to turn around to guess who it is.

“can you stop laughing and be a decent human being for once? help me out here,” you hiss.

junhui sighs, but he walks past you. “i’d love to help you out, but i just can’t seem to see you,” he responds.

“i hope you trip on your socks and get a concussion,” you deadpan, opening the cabinets.

(but a minor one. so he doesn’t have to stay hospitalized or anything.)

junhui’s known you long enough to know your threats are all bark and no bite. yet he still moans, heavily exaggerated. “oh, don’t tease me!”

“can you two bring your sexual tension somewhere else? i will actually demolish you two if you have sex in my kitchen,” you hear soonyoung holler. you nearly fall off the counter at how blunt he is.

“fuck off!” you retort. when you open up a cabinet and find the missing ramen, you pluck one out from a box and slide down the counter. junhui’s looking at you, obviously amused.

“is the little one flustered?” he mocks, approaching you with grabby hands.

you promptly walk up to him and smack his hands as hard as you can, eliciting a pained yelp from him. “kiss my ass,” you snarl.

he waves his hand around to lessen the pain, but he still manages to flash you a smile and even bats his eyelashes. “time and place?”

you and junhui have an interesting relationship, if you can even call it that. you two don’t hate each other, but he’s nothing close to a friend. if anything, he’s probably your mortal enemy.

you had came to this conclusion about three months ago when you had first met the boy. after much pestering on your friend soonyoung’s part, you had reluctantly tagged along on a hangout with him, junhui, and their mutual friends minghao and chan. soonyoung had wanted to introduce you to them and perhaps set you up with one of them.

to this day, when you look back, you can’t help but laugh. sure, you can imagine yourself dating minghao, but chan? you both would rather run around naked than kiss each other. for you and minghao, you both have good chemistry, though you will always seem as a brother-figure, not a lover.

on the other hand, junhui? the idea is so laughable that soonyoung would win the comedian of the year award.

you can clearly remember your first encounter, standing before three men. one is impossible tall, you noted; if you thought soonyoung was tall, this man was a giant. you four had gone through brief introductions, quickly learning that the taller of the three was named junhui and the others minghao and chan.

you had been ready to get your game on when junhui had asked, “when were you born?”

“oh, me? 1999,” you answered. it’s a question commonly asked in korea, so you’re unfazed by how abrupt it is.

but.

“you’re really fucking short,” he blurted.

height has never been a sensitive topic for you. your friends tease you all the time which results in a very aggressive shove from you, but it’s not like you’re actually offended. you know that you’re not the tallest, but you’ve spent your childhood and adulthood climbing up cabinets. at this point, you’re an expert now. something you take pride in, even.

when a complete stranger comments on your height, though, especially as if it’s a hindrance, you do what your mother taught you. thus, like the obedient child you are, you marched right up to junhui and kicked him in the shins, leaving in a huff with a worried soonyoung trailing behind you.

apparently that moment had sparked an interest in junhui, his shining eyes never leaving your retreating silhouette. you, on the other hand, don’t like to judge based on first impressions. but you decided junhui was an exception.

it had been three days since that disaster of an encounter, and you had nearly forgotten about it. it’s friday afternoon and you had just gotten out of class, currently walking down the street on your way for your first day of work. working at a boba chain doesn’t exactly reap in the riches, but you’re a broke college student who needs to make money. you’re a little excited, though. you’ve wanted to try your hand at working at a boba store since you were in middle school, and this was the perfect opportunity for you.

you push the door open and is surprised to see how packed it is. there are people mingling around the store, presumably waiting for their drinks. you awkwardly shift from one foot to another, because you’re not quite sure where to go.

fortunately, someone behind the counter can tell that you look like a lost sheep in a crowd of wolves. “excuse me! you’re (name), right?” she calls out. you timidly nod, approaching the woman. “perfect! my name’s sejeong!” she sends you a smile that reminds you of a warm hug. “come on behind here, our manager jaewoo is out with a cold, so one of our employees will walk you through today,” she explains. “if you ever need anything, just let me know!” you decide then that sejeong is probably the sweetest human being to grace the earth, further proving this when she smiles and pats your shoulder.

you’re guided to the back to put on your uniform and instructed to wait for said employee while sejeong disappears to the front. just as you’re adjusting your apron, you hear footsteps approach you. “hey, you’re the new kid, right? cool, i’m...” you hear his voice trail off, and for some reason, it’s vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on who it is.

it isn’t until you turn around with wide eyes to come face-to-face with a smirking junhui that you realize. ‘fuck.’

“well hello there short stuff! i guess i’m going to be your guide,” he smirks, his tone taunting. for someone who’s first words to you were “you’re really fucking short”, he’s bold. not a single apology whatsoever.

“you’re not the manager, right?” you ask. he looks slightly confused, but he shakes his head. “good. because i hope someone spills something on the floor for you to slip on so i can see you eat shit.”

junhui’s eyes glimmer in amusement; for someone who just got told to eat shit, he looks oddly happy. “ooh, this’ll be fun.”

(to your surprise, your days at work turn out to be quite pleasant. other than junhui’s unbearably annoying personality, he’s not the worst to work with; he actually knows what he’s doing, which you can respect. you’d have to be dangled over a tank of piranhas first before you’d admit that, though.)

your day is supposed to go like this: wake up, go to class, eat, go to work, eat some more, and sleep. maybe squeak in some time to cry about school while you’re at it.

what it’s not supposed to look like: waking up on the floor and arriving to class late, but not before spilling your smoothie all over the classroom floor. at least you were able to squeak in some time to cry about school, except that happened much earlier than expected. who cries about school at eleven am?

even after you’re profusely apologizing to your professor and even helped mop his floor, you aren’t able to catch a break, which is evident when you realize that you’re now late for work. thankfully your coworkers are pretty lenient, and you’re never late, so if you are, it’s probably from some unforeseen incident.

after sprinting so fast that the flash would be dumbfounded, you hurtle through the doors like you just won a marathon. luckily you’re only late by a minute, but to your dismay, you come face-to-face with a smug junhui, who leans in to ruffle your hair and tease your sweaty frame. sejeong and jaewoo, the quiet manager, aren’t here, either, so there’s nothing stopping his relentless teasing. you don’t even have the energy in you to curse him out, because you barely had time to shove food in your mouth.

it’s been around three hours since you clocked in, and you’re surprised you’re still powering through and haven’t passed out yet. a miracle, you suppose. if you did pass out, though, that’d be yet another thing to add onto your list of unfortunate events. you’ve already had a lady scandalized from your “lack of professionalism” all because you told junhui to fuck himself a little too loudly. fainting on the job would just be another thing to add.

as the last customer of the night leaves the store, you slide down the counter with a groan. “thank fucking god we’re done,” you groan, burying your head in your knees. you’re unsure if the sudden wave of dizziness you feel is from the lack of food or sleep, but from the sad growl your stomach makes, you guess it’s the former.

junhui hums, placing a towel on the counter. he slides down beside you with a raised eyebrow. “where’s your usual attitude today, short stuff? you’re usually a hard person to see, and your lack of attitude practically made you invisible,” he pouts. you’re not sure if it’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult, but whatever it is, it’s a horrible attempt at cheering you up... if that’s what it’s supposed to be.

you turn your head to the side, eyes closed. “i’m hungry and tired as fuck. hangry, if you will.”

you can hear him sit up, and you think he’s about to leave you in the store when you feel someone’s hands gripping yours. when you groggily lift your head up, squinting at the harsh light, you see junhui holding onto you. for a split second, you swear you see a look of concern wash over his face. “come on, let’s get you up.”

you snort. “why? so you can knock me down again?”

junhui rolls his eyes. “i’m not an asshole, shorty. come on, let’s get some food in you.”

“i beg to differ, you... beanstalk.”

“okay, you’re obviously starving if that’s the best you got.”

you roll your eyes, but you let yourself be pulled up from the floor. “it’s not that big of a deal, i’ll just grab some food on my way home or something.”

“can you even find your way home?”

“of course i can,” you snap, though your sluggish movements completely contradicts your words. junhui can tell as well, folding his arms with a raised brow. “shut up.”

“i didn’t even say anything?”

“you looked like you were going to say something stupid.”

“how rude!” he gasps, feigning hurt. despite this, he approaches you and squishes your cheeks together, eliciting a grumble from you. “do you need this beanstalk to carry you?” he mocks. he must be enjoying the sudden power he has over you.

you blow a raspberry at him to the best of your ability. “fuck you,” you curse, though it comes out muffled. junhui hums, swaying your bodies side to side. you frown, and you hope that he can’t see feel how warm your face is getting. he’s looking at you so sweetly and warmly that you suddenly feel compelled to apologize for being so mean to him all these times.

he releases his hold from you and tugs your hand forward. “come on little one, let’s go get you fed! and no, you’re not allowed to say no. my treat of course~”

you’re too tired to notice that you’re holding hands with your mortal enemy. instead you muster up your most threatening glare, but junhui merely responds with a cheeky wink. “how do i know you won’t poison my food?”

“if i do, then i’d poison mine, too. it’ll be so romeo and juliet.”

the moment you walk inside the studio, you’re instantly flooded with the smell of sweat. it’s a good thing the chinese takeout in your hands is much stronger, otherwise you would’ve gagged at how similar it smells to a locker room.

you walk inside the room that soonyoung’s team had been using and push the door open. at the sound of a newcomer, all eyes turn to face you; luckily there’s only soonyoung, chan, minghao... and junhui.

junhui’s face instantly perks up when he sees you, and you’re already embracing yourself for teasing. “if it isn’t the little bean!” he chirps.

you roll your eyes. “i’m not here for you, i’m here for soonyoung. and stop calling me a bean.”

the group walk towards you, their love for food dominating their passion for dance. apparently what’s soonyoung is theirs and what’s theirs is soonyoung’s, because they open up the bag and delve in like a pack of hyenas. you sit down on the floor and pull out a pair of wooden chopsticks and box after box.

as you open up a box of fried rice, junhui seats himself beside you and leans in, fluttering his eyelashes. “can you feed me? my arms are too tired.”

you roll your eyes. “what is this, the 1900s? i’m not your servant, feed yourself.” your comment has minghao snorting, while soonyoung and chan cackle at the comeback.

junhui pouts, but it isn’t his usual, exaggerated pout. he looks genuinely disappointed, even deflating like a balloon. you don’t know why, but the next thing you know, you’re scooping up some rice and shoving it towards his direction. the others, junhui included, look surprised. “you have three seconds before i eat this,” you tell him. it’s curt and your eyes are blank, but the way you’re frowning with red cheeks is far from it.

junhui beams in delight and is all too happy to comply, diving in and taking a bite before you can begin counting down. “this tastes even better because it’s from you~” he blows you an air kiss, and you grab it and throw it on the floor, eliciting a hurt gasp from him. the trio before you two look severely unimpressed.

“are we third, fourth and fifth-wheeling? i didn’t even know that was possible,” minghao deadpans, shaking his head in disapproval. soonyoung and chan nod, disappointedly eating their chow fen. you turn your head so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.

“what? no.” your response comes a little too quickly, and you’re instantly regretting it judging from the mischievous grins that begin spreading across soonyoung and chan’s face. they mimick each other with such synchronization that it’s scary.

“well, myungho, chan and i are going to get some drinks for everyone. what do you all want?” soonyoung announces. you have an idea of what his true intentions are, but junhui’s oblivious, grabbing your hand to scoop more rice for him. you glare at him because his chopsticks are right there, but for some reason, you’re biting back a snarky remark.

“get me a coke please!” junhui requests.

“just get me water,” you respond, glaring eyes never leaving soonyoung’s frame. he shoots you a wink like the best friend he is and leaves with minghao and chan in tow. to your horror, chan makes the dick-in-hole motion with his fingers before minghao ultimately shuts him down. you’re thankful for minghao’s rationality, but then he wiggles his eyebrows at you. you silently stick your tongue out at the trio. thankfully, junhui seems too occupied with the food in front of him to notice.

as the door shuts, you return your attention back to the food. you scoop some chow fen in your mouth when junhui leans in and grabs your cheeks, startling you to the point where you nearly choke on your food. now that would be embarassing.

three months ago you would’ve cursed him out for even standing in a five-foot radius of you. but now you can’t even bring yourself to say anything, eyes locked with junhui’s. the logical part of you is formulating a reason for the sudden change, but your emotional part - the one that’s usually in charge - is running rampant in your mind, shutting down any possibility of you not hating junhui.

“hey (name),” he begins. you’re surprised that he isn’t using his arsenal of nicknames for you: short stuff, shorty, little one, little bean... now that you think about it, he’s never actually used your name before. not even when he had to act professional at work.

“you never use my actual name unless you have something serious to say,” you point out with a laugh. it comes out nervous and high-pitched, a dead giveaway of the anxiety pooling in your stomach.

junhui doesn’t even blink. “am i wrong to think that you don’t hate me?”

the same nervous laughter escapes your throat. your brain is a little frazzled, and apparently your brain-to-mouth filter isn’t functioning right now. “what? yes, you’re wrong. i dislike you very much.” the words are out of your mouth before you know it, and you sharply exhale at how wrong they are.

well, not exactly. you dislike how he ruffles your hair when you work, or when he pretends he can’t see you because of your height. you also dislike how he only teases you, and how he refuses to help you grab things from shelves.

...but you don’t hate him.

despite this strange cat-and-mouse relationship you two have, you’ve never explicitly stated that you hate him. maybe wishing a concussion on him is an indicator of it, but it’s not like you actually want him to get one. you shut your eyes in fear, expecting him to stand up and leave, angry and hurt like any logical person would be.

but no one moves. when you squeak your eyes open, you’re shocked to see a wide, cat-like grin spread on his face. “okay, good!”

hold on. what the fuck?

those are your exact words, eyes widened in confusion. maybe junhui is a sadist. who would react like that after being told that you aren’t liked? but he releases his hold on your face and does an impressive somersault before standing back up on his feet. “you could’ve said “yes, i hate you.” but you said you disliked me very much. the fact that you deliberately added more words just shows that you don’t hate me!” he explains.

you pause to think over his logic. huh, it actually makes sense, though you would rather die than admit he’s right. before you can refute his response he walks up to you. his strides are long and confident, the ones he takes when he’s feeling extra good. “so does that mean you like me?” he asks, grinning.

he doesn’t even give you a second to blink, let alone respond. “because i like you,” he hums.

a long pause.

“you like who now?” you slowly reiterate. your eyes are impossibly wide, and junhui laughs.

“you, short stuff.”

you’re pretty sure you look equivalent to the pikachu meme. several questions are popping in your head, but you can only blurt out, “what... why... how?” you’re suddenly hit with all of the memories of your petty arguments with him. the phrases “fuck off you skyscraper” and “i hope you eat shit” pop up most frequently, much to your chagrin. it’s hilariously ironic... talk about embarrassing.

he hums and ruffles your hair, but you’re too shocked to be bothered. “because you’re the cutest and snarkiest person i’ve ever met. you’re so tiny and compact, but your personality fills up the whole room.” he pauses to gauge your response and grins when he sees how shocked you look. “you care deeply for others, but your love for them shows even more when you curse them out and tell them to do things like trip over their own feet. you’re interesting and amusing, and i like our petty banters. i also like to see how pouty you get when i tease you,” he coos, leaning down to bop your nose. “i’m surprised you never noticed.”

instantly you blink back to reality and quickly stand up. “you say i show more love towards people when i insult them, right?” you repeat. he nods.

you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes comically wide. “by that logic, does that mean every time i tell you to trip on your shoelaces or run into a tree branch, it means...” your voice trails off at the realization. you’re keenly aware of how comedic the situation is.

junhui laughs at your frozen frame. “you just realized that’s how you express affection?” he cackles. “you’re always so polite to people you hate, but you curse out the people you actually care about. how ironic is that?”

your face feels impossibly warm now. you march up to junhui, red as a tomato. “shut up you... stupid light pole!” you shriek, looking down at your shoes and burying your face in your hands. “this is actually so embarrassing, oh my god.”

you hear him laugh and walk up to you before he places a hand on the back of your head. “how does it feel, potentially liking this stupid light pole?”

his tone is arrogant, and you’re horrified at how your love language has horribly backfired. you’ve spent three months thinking you hated said light pole, and you’ve only just realized that the way you interact with him is the same with how interact with soonyoung. except at the same time, it’s not. because soonyoung doesn’t call you cute and compact. if he did, he would’ve gotten shoved.

but when junhui does, all you do is call him a beanstalk or a skyscraper or anything impossibly tall.

your face is still buried in your hands until you feel junhui tugging at them. reluctantly you peel them off, face still warm. “can i hug you?” he asks. you find yourself even more overwhelmed at how careful he looks now, keenly aware of how sincere he is. he’s holding his heart in his hands presented right in front of you. you can choose to give him support or make him drop it.

“...sure.”

he can’t help the coo that slips from his mouth when he sees you bashfully looking away, and he slides his arms around your waist. you’re not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or purely instinctual, but you’re burying your head in his shoulders, keenly aware of the prominent height difference. “you’re so cute, shorty. i bet this wasn’t on your agenda today, was it?” you’re sure he’s giving his signature mischievous smirk.

the idea of you and junhui liking each other, and being in a relationship, even, was so funny that soonyoung should’ve won the award for comedian of the year. but now that you look back, maybe you should’ve gotten it, because apparently everyone, junhui included, was able to tell that the more you insulted him, the more you cared for him. everyone except for you.

you grumble, carefully wrapping your arms behind his shoulders. “shut the fuck up, you skyscraper.”

he leans down to rest his chin on your head. “anything for you, my liege.”