#kokonomi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stayinzencity · 3 years ago

Text

i have a heart, i swear i do

member: jennifer check/incubus! taeyong (feat. doyoung)

pairings: taeyong x reader, doyoung x reader (fem! reader insert)

genre/AU: horror, angst, a dash of fluff/comedy, love triangle, Jennifer's Body AU, idol AU

warnings: horror, suggestive, swearing, major character death, bullying, hate, unhealthy relationships, knives, violence, blood and injury, food and eating, smoking, unrequited love. mind the warnings. this is fiction.

synopsis: Taeyong used to destroy hearts, and now he devours them. Heartbreaker got a whole other level of meaning.

WC: 4.5K

collab: NCT Halloween (Monster AU) Collab hosted by @minimultiestfandoms

a/n: check out the teaser below for more info on Misfit (Taeyong, Doyoung and you) and City 127. not necessary to read though. happy halloween!!

Teaser (exclusive article on Misfit)

Prologue:

You walk down the aisle that’s nothing more than an old rug laid out in the lush green backyard of Taeyong’s house, not a hint of uncertainty as you gaze into the eyes of your soulmate.

Doyoung is five, Taeyong is six and maybe age doesn't matter at all. Not when you're playing pretend.

Doyoung kisses your cheek and lets you take your place. He moves to a corner and glowers at everyone- everyone being the audience of stuffed animals and dolls patiently waiting for the wedding to end, and the tea party to begin.

It’s typical of Mr. Grumpy who would come out victorious in a staring match with a chair. Doyoung spends most of his time frowning at, well, just about everything.

Taeyong is the exact opposite. He smiles, laughs and giggles all the time. He has a way of turning even the dullest of days into adventures. Sometimes he goes a little wild and lands your trio into trouble, though he almost always finds a way to get you out of it too.

You exchange flower rings with Taeyong, and quickly peck his lips. Doyoung nods and announces that the two of you are married. Tea time can commence.

The two boys may be as different as night and day however that never gets in the way of their friendship. They mean the world to you and they would do anything to keep you safe and happy, your sunshine and moonlight, and you would do the same for them.

Later that day the three of you sit under your favorite cherry tree. Taeyong carves a heart with your name and his inside. Doyoung draws another heart linked to the first with his name in it. Underneath you engrave Friends Forever.

Years later and the three of you haven't grown apart.

“You look like you want to eat him,” Doyoung comments as he drops into the seat next to you.

“I would.” Taeyong has his eyes on the boy and you know it’s time to give up on this one. It isn’t any fun once Taeyong steals someone away, only to leave them behind soon after. “You’re lying to yourself when you say you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t say that though.” Neither you or Taeyong fail to hear the words Doyoung mutters and you share a smile.

Doyoung has evolved to the point where he could admit his desires, even if he’s yet to act on them. It’s a drastic change from how he used to be a year ago. Taeyong and you have been the bad influence he needed, and he's finally let himself linger close to the dark side.

People comment on how strange it is that Taeyong spends his time with Doyoung. They find you so forgettable that they don't even mention you.

It’s hard to abandon the friends from your early years if they are always around and all you've ever really known.

All three of you miss classes, though Doyoung is the only one who bothers with formalities like getting permission first, while Taeyong and you simply bunk class and sneak off.

"Kiss boys. Break hearts. Fuck life." Taeyong holds up his imaginary drink. You pretend to clink yours against it.

"Cheers."

Of course, you find Taeyong passionately making out with the boy later that day. When he meets your gaze without stopping his performance, you want to rip him apart. Instead you show him a finger. He responds by slipping his hand under the boy’s shirt and pulling him even closer. Fuck him.

“I’m prettier,” Doyoung says with a huff as he walks up to where you’re leaning against the tree. He takes his spot on the ground beside you and places his head in your lap. “And you’re the prettiest.”

You pat his hair. “Is baby jealous?” You smirk.

Doyoung snorts. “As if you aren’t.” He closes his eyes.

I. Taeyong's Body:

Everyone loves Taeyong- including Taeyong, especially Taeyong.

"With a face like mine," Taeyong smiles. "I deserve to be a star, don't you think?"

Doyoung says if people got to know Taeyong they'd not like him, and maybe it's true since the only friends he actually has are you and Doyoung.

Even Johnny didn't stick around and he was the closest Taeyong ever got to making a genuine friend besides you two, although Johnny continues to hang out with Taeyong enough for the publicity.

"Say you love me," Taeyong whispers when you lie next to him.

When you say you do, he smirks and turns away. You haven't heard him say that he loves you, and probably never will.

He has the face of an angel, but behind that lies a demon.

“Am I supposed to sell my soul so that the masses love me?” Taeyong asks. He empties the water bottle by pouring it over himself, then throws it straight into the trash can. “I mean if I were you I’d think about it.”

You ignore the jab.

Taeyong goes on about how you are a disappointment, a failure, a fucking waste of space. You tune out the rest of it.

Doyoung walks into the room, mumbling about something he’s seen on his phone.

Taeyong snatches Doyoung’s phone out of his hands, ignoring his protests. “The fucking hell?” Taeyong’s eyes light up with fury. He flings the phone out the window, and starts cackling. “If anyone needs to sleep their way to fame you know who it’d be." He points in your direction. "What a joke.”

With Doyoung mourning the loss of his phone, you’re the one who has to figure out what's up with Taeyong.

He’s being a colossal jerk with no regard for anyone else including his supposed best friend- and all that’s relatively normal these days. There’s still something off about him, and you’re determined to figure out what.

"I think something's wrong with Taeyong," Doyoung says one morning, about a week later.

"Obviously," you agree. "It's Taeyong."

"No, that's not what I mean." Doyoung waves his hands in the air as if that makes things clearer, when it actually does nothing to help. "Yeah, well, you weren't the one who walked in to find him shoving a cake into his mouth with his bare hands. Which wouldn't be scary if Jungwoo did it, since that happens every time there's a party- but this is Taeyong. Our Taeyong doesn't stuff food into his face with both his hands like a barbarian at two in the morning."

"Why were you up at two anyway?"

"Fuck, that's the least important thing that I've said. I'm almost always up around two. I have trouble sleeping."

"Oh. Maybe he's going through something too? Should we talk to him?"

"I guess. When I tried, he grinned at me with his mouthful of cake. I think I saw something dark oozing out of his mouth. But it wasn't a chocolate cake, was it? Might be imagining things." Doyoung rubs his forehead.

"You know what? I bet this is just the culmination of all your sleepless nights. You need sleep." And that's that.

Except that night you spot Taeyong devouring raw meat straight out of the freezer. You sprint to Doyoung's room and storm into the room.

"There's this thing called knocking, you know?" Doyoung's voice comes out muffled from where he's buried in his blankets. "Would be nice if you'd try it sometime?"

"Yeah, well. Taeyong being depressed or deranged isn't the problem here. For fuck's sake, he's demonic."

Doyoung’s head pokes out. "The hell are you on about? Demonic? Are you sure you're fine?"

You waste no time in narrating what you saw.

"Okay. So, eating things you're not supposed to be, well, that's called pica. Not sure if there's a cure though."

"Yeah whatever, professor.” You scoff. “That's helpful."

II. Interlude:

There have been a lot of things that had to be buried when it came to you three, especially Taeyong and you.

The rumors and scandals have gotten frequent enough that it’s turned into a running joke your fans like to call Misfit's ‘scandal of the week’.

Yours are mostly about who you might be dating, Taeyong's tend to involve City 127, the idol group he was almost apart of, and Doyoung gets caught smoking.

Your fans are quick to come to your defence. You are adults allowed to make your own choices and deal with the consequences- just because you’re an idol that shouldn't have to change.

For all the people that support you, there are those who spew words of hatred and venom which turn into shards sharp enough to pierce through your skin.

It isn’t doing anything besides making you feel worse, but you can’t keep from checking what people post about you. Their comments start getting to you when Taeyong interferes and pulls your phone out of your grip.

On the days when you bleed insecurity, Taeyong's arms hold you and his hands heal the invisible wounds. He keeps you distracted so that you forget about the terrible thoughts that creep around your mind.

Taeyong softens around you. Those little actions of his show that he does care about you, somewhere deep inside. When he playfully snatches your phone away after he notices you scrolling through and letting the hate get to you, not giving it back until he’s managed to drag you out of the spiral you'd been sinking into. When he pushes a plate of food he's prepared in your direction when you sit down for breakfast, and it’s your favourite made just the way you like it.

But then he does something that ruins it, and leaves you wondering why you even like him.

You’ve barely locked the door when the clearing of a throat draws your attention to the man seated on the couch.

"Back so late, huh? Let me guess- you were with Ten?"

He doesn't deserve an answer if he is going to be like that. You storm past him down the hallway and into the safety of your room.

"Sure. Hide away," he calls out. "Real mature."

You toss your clutch onto the bed, quickly changing into comfortable clothes and throwing the door open.

"It's none of your fucking business," you hiss. "You can't demand that I stay away from him."

"He's an asshole. Did he seduce you? Is that all it took to-"

"One, he's less of an asshole than you. Two, just because you have to seduce people to keep you company doesn't mean everyone does the same. Three, you're an asshole. Fuck you."

III. Taeyong's Body:

You aren’t unfamiliar with spilt blood. It isn't the first time you've driven a knife through a man.

But whatever's seeping out of Taeyong almost seems sentient- something stranger than anything you've ever seen before.

Yanking the blade out of his back, you let it drop from your hand as you back away from Taeyong who is grinning at you. A grin that once would have promised pleasure is now an omen, the promise being of pain.

You're a backstabber, literally, but Taeyong's a demon and that's the greater of evils. Sometimes you need to back off, and this is one of those moments.

Your adrenaline levels spike, heart thumping in your thorax, and you become more conscious of your breathing with each passing moment. Your feet won’t budge, frozen in place like they’re nailed to the floor.

The nerves- or perhaps it’s Taeyong’s doing- let go of you, and you stumble away to put a door between him and you.

"Save me," Taeyong gasps. "I don't want to die again."

You slam the door shut on his clawed hands. It won't stop him, not even do much to buy time really. Taeyong doesn't seem eager to attack you though, and that’s the reason you are alive- for now.

You pull Doyoung into an empty room and lock the door.

“Oh gods, what if you’re the killer? Is this how-” Your hand over Doyoung’s mouth halts the rambling.

"Taeyong's evil." You blurt it out before you realise the words are rolling off your tongue.

Doyoung nods slowly like he suspects this is a trick question, despite it being neither a trick nor a question. "Yeah." He rubs his chest which you pretty much headbutted.

"No. Like straight up demonic evil," you clarify. Not that it's helpful or believable. Then again, you've said stranger stuff before that Doyoung had no problem going along with. "He's possessed or some shit."

"Oh. Okay." Doyoung looks torn between disbelief and relief and horror. "There's something I need to tell you."

You wait for Doyoung to continue but he stays silent. You'd like to say you're patient, but you're really not. You clear your throat, prompting Doyoung to break out of the trance he seems trapped in.

"Well, give me a minute, alright? I saw things that I brushed off as nightmares and now I'm processing that all of it was real. Shit." Doyoung's nervous energy was peaking.

"Yeah. We're fucked."

"So Taeyong showed up one night covered in blood," Doyoung recounts. "And I don't think it was his, either? He looked perfectly fine the next morning so I assumed it was one of my nightmares-"

"You dream about Taeyong often?"

Your comment is ignored. "And he was puking this weird ass dark goo and it was gross and he slammed me against the wall and growled and leaned in close and-" Doyoung takes a breath. "Then he backed off. Left the building."

"Oh fuck. Doyoung, I'm sorry." You're glad it wasn't you. "How the hell did I sleep through that shit?"

"A marching band wouldn't wake you up- you're basically Sleeping Beauty who can't wake up until the curse is dispelled. Lucky you don't have to wait for a kiss when your alarm clock does the trick."

IV. Interlude:

"So," Doyoung starts slowly as if he’s thinking over what he's about to say and whether it's worth the potential punch he’s going to get. "How come you hang out with Ten?"

If Taeyong had asked the question, you'd have gotten defensive and it would have ended with you ignoring each other for half a day at the very least.

Except it's Doyoung.

"He's cool," you say. Not really an answer but open-ended questions allow for this kind of reply. It's not like you could be honest with Doyoung. Or maybe you could if you avoided specifics. "It turned out that we have common interests."

Doyoung hums. He's not entirely satisfied. However, he doesn't push further. Unlike Taeyong he respects boundaries.

It bothers you though, that he doesn't want to dig deeper and discover the truth you’re trying to hide.

"Ask me,” you say. “What's on your mind?"

"Why don't you ever take me along? I don't hear much about Ten from you. You don't have to tell me, of c-"

"It's one of those things where I'd probably have to kill you if I told you."

"You're an assassin? Don’t tell me you started a fight club?"

"First rule of fight club- don't talk about fight club. So yeah, I won't tell you I started a fight club."

You burst into giggles. Doyoung stares at you in disbelief, before a smile slowly forms on his face.

"You can have your secrets. Just know that I'm here whenever you need me."

"I know." You kiss his cheek. "Thank you. You're more than I deserve."

He swats at you, but he's also blushing and unable to meet your eyes. He's really not subtle. It's a little sad.

You can't force feelings that aren't there. It'd be perfect if you fell for Doyoung and left Taeyong, but life doesn't work that way and hence you’re trapped where you are.

V. Taeyong's Body:

"You're killing people?"

"No," Taeyong says. "I'm killing sasaengs. And it's for a good cause." He gestures to his face. "It's part of my new beauty routine."

You really don't know what to say to that. Doyoung doesn't either, if anything, he looks close to puking.

For once, Taeyong actually volunteers information and tells the two of you a bit about what happened to him. But he's Taeyong which means he finds pleasure in making you squirm, of course. Doyoung gets up and leaves midway, leaving you alone with the monster. Which is kind of shitty of him, but Doyoung's always been more of a scaredy-cat and you can't hold it against him.

You are three organisms in a symbiotic relationship- though Taeyong insists you are a parasite leeching off the success of him and Doyoung and your other acquaintances.

Yet it's Taeyong who needs the blood and flesh of others to survive, so who's the parasite now?

"It's still you," Taeyong says with a mouthful of, well, you don't want to know. "I'm a predator. Top of the food chain. You can't beat that."

Even predators get eaten up when they're dead and decaying though.

Taeyong's dead. And if he isn't consuming human flesh, he's decaying.

He isn't invincible. Nothing ever is. Taeyong is no exception.

Doyoung thinks that too. He also thinks a lot of things that are useless outside of his head, as far as you’re concerned. Like when says, "I guess he's like Dorian Gray except he has to feed on humans instead of a portrait absorbing all of his sins."

"Dorian who?"

"Oscar Wilde? The Picture of Dorian Gray?” Doyoung says it like it’s a crime not to know the Oscar guy. “We even had to read it for Literature class- oh right, never mind. You never bothered."

"Not everyone can be a goody two shoes, Doyoung."

"Please. You were a delinquent."

"You were boring. You only have one life. Live a little?"

"Some people have goals and want to be successful."

"Well look at us now. We have the same job. Congratulations,” you scoff. “What use is your degree now? I didn't even graduate high school."

"Well if this doesn't work out then I have a backup plan. Can you say the same?"

"Ugh. Stop saying things my parents would tell me. I hardly talk to them anymore for a reason." Your mood falls momentarily.

“Ok. I figured it out," Doyoung announces. "We’re stuck in a horror movie and Taeyong is the monster, I’m the protagonist and you’re the supporting character that dies halfway through.”

“Fuck you, Doyoung." You can't hold back your laughter. "That’s you.”

If Doyoung was the hero, could you be the love interest? You shouldn’t Doyoung or yourself hope, yet sometimes you let yourself wonder.

“You started smoking again?” You snatch the cigarette from Doyoung. “Even if it keeps Taeyong away, it’s still killing you.”

“I wasn’t using it as a Taeyong repellant.” He pauses and eyes the cigarette you're holding, probably trying to figure out how to get it back. “Though that does sound appealing now," he concedes. "If I have to choose my poison, I’ll take cancer over being brutally ripped apart to be devoured by a demon wearing my best friend’s face.”

You put out the cigarette and pull Doyoung close. You lean near enough to whisper in his ear, then you turn so that your lips brush against his jaw.

Doyoung shifts so that his lips hover over yours. He doesn't go further than that. Where Taeyong does whatever he wants, Doyoung waits for things to fall into place.

It's tempting, being so close.

You move away, taking a moment to catch your breath. “Stop smoking,” you call before pushing Doyoung aside to go back inside.

Smoke isn't enough to keep Doyoung safe from Taeyong.

VI. Interlude:

Arguments with Doyoung are usually over Taeyong. There's a bitterness you can't wash away no matter how hard you try.

“We already got married when we were like six.” You groan into your pillow. “And you two exchanged rings ages ago. Why are we arguing over this?”

“This isn’t an argument! That’s not what I meant.” Doyoung runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s just that we, you and me, never did anything special. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

You roll onto your back. “Hey, come here.” Doyoung climbs onto the bed, and you pull him onto you. “What we have is special, and it always will be. You know what Taeyong is like. He might go easy on you, but he’ll destroy me. He already does.”

“He’s a fucking asshole. You deserve better.”

“He’s your fucking best friend! It’s not like you tried to stop him.”

“You think he listens to me? You were his best friend too and look what happened. He’s a selfish bastard.” Doyoung's voice rises, and suddenly he's choking on tears. "I can't pretend anymore. It bothers me more than you realise. I-"

"It's between me and Taeyong. You've stayed out of the way all this time. Keep looking away, acting like nothing is wrong. That's all you have to do." You huff and move towards the door. "Perform."

"Wait," Doyoung calls weakly. "I love- I'm in love with you."

You don't stop walking away, though it makes you falter. "I know," you whisper. "I'm sorry. You're the prettiest," you laugh through the tears. "It's just-"

"You don't love me."

"No," you insist. "You mean so much to me. I love you, but my feelings aren't the same as yours."

If you could stay and say what Doyoung desperately hopes for, you would. But you can't bring yourself to lie to him anymore than you already do. He deserves that much.

VII. Taeyong's Body:

Ten is still asleep when you step out of the bedroom. Barely a moment after you leave the room you find yourself shoved against the wall with a hand closing around your neck.

“Are you having fun without me?”

"No one could replace you," you gasp when he loosens his grip. "Not even Doyoung."

Doyoung. You miss Doyoung.

"Wow. You've come a long way for sure. Lying to my face. How bold of you." The hand tightens, leaving you struggling to breathe as Taeyong watches with a grin. “I could snap your neck now, but that wouldn’t be fun, would it? Ah, I’m hung-”

You drive the blade into him, however he's fast enough for it to miss its mark. It's left sticking out of his shoulder.

"Ouch." Taeyong winces as he yanks out the knife, dragging it out to mock you. The wound doesn't take long to heal itself. "Well that hurt. Looks like our friendship isn't going to work out after all. I hope you're ready to be torn to bits. I'll swallow you and regurgitate you. Surely my stomach can't handle something as disgusting as you."

"Nice to see you're still a dick."

"A dick you love, darling. Weren't you in the middle of confessing your undying love for me a minute ago?" Taeyong flashes his teeth. "You're such a masochist. Guess we're lucky that I love to see you suffer. Although I think I've let you live too long already. It'll be nice to finally get some rest, hmm? Enjoy your last breaths, bitch."

"Undying love is going to be dead love soon."

"Too late. I'm already dead."

"Undead, actually. But you won't be for much longer."

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Bore me out of existence." Taeyong rolls his eyes. "Seeing as you're no good with a kni-"

Taeyong peers down to see the stake sticking out of his chest. “Ouch.” This time it's gone straight through his heart. Even a hydra has a limit when it comes to regeneration. Taeyong's Achilles heel happens to be his heart.

As the life- or whatever was animating him- left Taeyong, he reaches a hand to caress your cheek. You could have flinched away, maybe you should have, yet you didn't.

"I love you," Taeyong rasps. "Forever."

He traces a heart on your cheek. You grab onto his hand as it drops. Cold and limp it may be, but it's the hand that held onto yours through the good and the bad and the worse.

Sandbox love never really dies.

"As much as I support young love with all its flaws and faults," Ten drawls. "I think someone called the cops with all the ruckus you made. We're short on time, sweetie. You can meet him in hell or when you reincarnate or whatever."

You're not sure if you feel relieved, enraged or disappointed that you weren't the one to put an end to the terror that was Taeyong. Ten's right, there'll be time to think later.

The sound of sirens in the distance is your cue to leave.

Epilogue:

Doyoung slowly pushed open the door and stepped into the flat. It was unnaturally quiet, besides the sound of steady dripping.

It had to be a faucet that someone forgot to close properly. Doyoung didn’t want to think about the alternatives.

That's probably when Doyoung should have walked away. Fled out of the house and never looked back. Maybe then things would have ended up differently.

Taeyong wasn’t supposed to survive and limp home, but he did.

Doyoung screams and writhes in pain. Your head is pounding, your sight fading and you’re left gasping for air. Taeyong cackles and watches the two of you suffer with glee, before he goes out to feast on unsuspecting souls.

“He bit me,” Doyoung whispers in horror. He tries to grab the knife but you get to it first. “You need to kill me. I can’t turn into a monster.”

“We don’t know that yet.. You’re still alive. It isn’t the sa-”

“That’s the thing. What if-“

“No.” You don’t want to consider the possibility that Doyoung has died. But you’d believed it until he’d gotten back up.

You’ve already lost Taeyong. You can’t lose Doyoung as well.

If you could go back in time to the days when you didn’t know bloodlust and Taeyong’s heart hadn’t been ripped out and Doyoung hadn’t gotten caught in it all, you’d keep resetting until all three of you got out intact.

You'd been scratched however there haven't been any changes since then.

It’s possible it was like a disease where the symptoms hadn't showed up yet, and will appear later. Or perhaps you have a natural resistance to demonic possession, if that’s even possible. It is unlikely you’re that fortunate though, so you assume it’s the former and you'll show changes any day now.

It’s not fair if Doyoung succumbed to it, yet you survive.

Life’s not fair.

You are in love with Taeyong.

Doyoung is in love with you.

Taeyong is in love with himself.

News articles pinned on the rotting wall of a musty, old room in a broken down house:

Yuta's gruesome death at the hands of the Idol Killer

City 127's Johnny: the Idol Killer's next victim

Misfit and its miserable end

What really happened to Misfit?

Misfit- 2 dead, 1 missing

Kim Doyoung's corpse goes missing

Violent deaths, vanishing bodies- what's next?

City 127 disbands

Taeyong sightings- hoax or haunting?

To this day, no one's sure what truly happened with Misfit and how they met their mysterious end.

149 notes · View notes

sichengtual · 3 years ago

Text

so you think you've fallen in love | d. sc

— summary: it’s 1997 and there are two things you’ve learned during your final year of college: one, you’re painfully in love with your childhood best friend and, two, you absolutely despise your next-door neighbor. however, sometimes, love and hate go hand in hand.

— pairing: dong sicheng x reader.

— genre: fluff, comedy (i hope); 90's au, friends to lovers, rivals to lovers, neighbors au, college au, painter! winwin.

— word count: 7,047 (7.0k)

— warnings: a bit of swearing, a brief joke about murder (no violence ever happens).

— song: kiss me — sixpence none the richer.

— a/n: for angel, @moonctzeny, as my gift for the @ficscafe exchange event! i’m so sorry about the delay, but i really hope you like it! 💞 as always, thank you to the love of my life, @svtxsoju, for helping me make sure it all makes sense! hehe i’m in jlove with jyou 💞.

You’re not completely sure about how it all started.

It’s a petty thing, really, and not one you should pay as much attention to as you do, but, as you realize the moment you stare down at the bright yellow paper in your hands, it’s not one you can get off of your mind. He makes your patience run out and your skin crawl, and it surprises you, because the mere thought of him has you biting the inside of your cheek in desperation.

You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t care, because, thinking about it, it’s not even that big of a deal. Right? It’s just paint cans. Yeah, paint cans right beside your door. Paint cans, right beside your door, almost making you trip. You do care.

“Prick,” you mutter under your breath, sticking the post-it note in the (nearly empty) bulletin board that hangs right beside the apartment complex’s door. “Asshole.”

Hey, 10B, pick up your spray-paint cans and I’ll give you back your blue mug… untouched. Fail to comply, and Pocchaco will suffer the consequences!

Nestled deep between a couple of big flyers, you realize it doesn’t really stand out much. It’s a small note, barely half of a normal post-it note, but still, bright yellow. And, most importantly, a note he’s probably gonna be looking for… especially after the one he’d left.

It had become a bit of a tradition, complaining to each other through small (and petty) notes via the complex’s bulletin board. It’s all trivial stuff, really; him asking you to not play The Smiths at top volume past two in the morning after going through a couple of sleepless nights, you asking him to not leave his paintings out on the hallway all night after suffering one too many headaches from the smell of fresh paint, and so on.

To be completely honest, in any other setting, it’d be almost entertaining. If only it was a song, or a movie, perhaps, and you’d be all about the classic Picking Dumb Fights With My Neighbor story. You’d even laugh at what the fights have been about, because, looking back, you probably wouldn’t have been in danger of tripping over his spray-paint cans if only you had been paying a bit more attention to your feet and a bit less to fixing the volume in your walk-man.

These dumb fights, however, do happen to you, and that way, it’s really not that entertaining. It’s infuriating, almost, because you really could go on about your day without having the urge to hide inside your apartment the moment you hear the door opening across the hall, simply because the thought of your neighbor stresses you just so much.

“You could just confront him, you know,” your roommate, Taeyong, says from next to you. He’s picking up pieces from an almond croissant with his fingers and eating them with each step he takes, coordinating the movement of his hand with the one of his feet. “Just go out there and stick the post-it note in his face. Say ‘Hey! Give me my T-tool back because I’ve been driving my roommate mad with how much I’ve asked for his!’”

“I thought you didn’t mind lending me your T-tool,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “And I’m not… I’m not talking to him. Ever. In fact, I wish I could pretend he doesn’t exist. If I ever saw him, I think I’d just... ”

“You’d just… what? I mean, for all you know, he might as well be a figment of your imagination,” Taeyong laughs. “You’ve never even seen the guy’s face. How do you know it’s not just me pulling one on you? Plot twist: that time you thought 10B had the slippers you had forgotten outside, it was me you had to bribe with chocolate milk to get them back!”

“I know it’s not you because I know you value me not letting your plants die,” you say. Taeyong gasps next to you, nudging your side with his elbow. “And you don’t like chocolate milk.”

“Nah, I just don’t like the one you make. Way too little cocoa powder,” he laughs, taking another piece of bread into his mouth. A little bit of the powdered sugar that tops the treat stays in the corner of his mouth, and he quickly wipes it with his tongue. “You could be a little more generous when you’re making it, share some more of your love with me, your best friend.”

You cross the street as Taeyong finishes his croissant, scrunching up the white paper bag it was in and putting the paper ball inside the pocket of his hoodie. He stops as you reach the sidewalk, turning so he can walk towards the record shop he works a morning shift in.

“Yeah, best friend, I’ll keep that in mind,” you smile. “So, I’ll pick up the pizza tonight after class and we’ll meet back home, right?”

Taeyong nods.

“The veggie one, but ask for extra peppers,” he smiles. “You know, to make up for the chocolate-less milk. I’ll be sure to tell you if 10B complied, and you can finally give the poor guy his mug back.”

He waves as he begins to walk back, and when he’s out of sight, you put a set of headphones over your ears. Reaching into your bag, you press play onto your walkman and “I Can’t Be With You” by The Cranberries flood your ears. The cold morning air rustles between the trees and crashes against your face, cool and crisp, and smelling like fall. The leaves in the ground crumble when you step over them, and with the music in your head, the walk down the street feels more like a movie with every step.

Coffee Tuesdays have become a sort of tradition for you and Sicheng.

Long ago, back when you were kids, there was not a single moment you and Sicheng ever spent apart. You had grown up together, being neighbors and childhood friends, but his family had to move away and even though you had both promised to, neither of you kept in touch. You had meant to, and even sent a few letters and postcards at first, followed by a couple emails, but time had passed and life had moved on. And then, so did you.

He had still been there, in the back of your mind, and you’d remember him in the pink hues of an afternoon sky in the winter, and in the thick, white wisps of steam from a cup of hot chocolate after a long day. He had still been there, in the summer breeze, and in the whispers of secrets and shared, secret jokes. He had still been there, in a friend’s smile after a long day, and there, too, in a warm, comforting hug. He had been your best friend, and your most trust-worthy confidante and, even though he never knew, your first (majorly unrequited, or at least, to your knowledge) love.

And then, there he was, too, one year ago, sitting in the only un-crowded table in the library with his headphones on and his walk-man buried between a stack of papers. He was there, in a comfy-looking hoodie, hair tousled from all the times he’d ran his fingers through it, and you had not recognized him at first.

Okay, yeah, to be completely honest, you hadn’t been paying much attention. It was almost one in the morning before your last final exam, and you had quickly asked him if the seat in front of him was free. He’d given you a polite nod, eyes not quite leaving his paper for anything more than a quick glance up and down your frame. It hadn’t been until almost an hour later, mid-Aerosmith’s Special Hits mixtape when Taeyong had waltzed in, placed a bag of chips in front of you and wished you good luck on your studying that Sicheng had actually looked at you.

“Wait, is it really you?”

“Oh my God, Dong Sicheng?”

He’d looked at you, and you had looked at him, and suddenly you were back in his backyard after school, trying to decide who had collected the coolest rock on the way home. He’d asked about you and you had joked with him, and the two of you had laughed, wholeheartedly, until you were eventually kicked out of the library and forced to study in the back of your dorm’s crowded cafeteria.

And now you’re here, hanging out after actually keeping in touch, still not exactly sure about how you have been able to live life without him.

“God, I don’t even know how to start,” Sicheng whines, throwing his head back, his shoulders relaxing upon the top of the seat. “Help me brainstorm, please. Here, you get a fry for every idea.”

“Didn’t you say it’s an abstract piece, Win?” You ask, drinking a sip from your coffee. It’s overly sweet, but you’ve been having the same drink ever since Sicheng had gotten the idea you’re a caramel latte aficionado, and you’re not really sure you have it in you to tell him he’s been buying you the wrong thing this entire time. “I don’t know how this entire art thing works, but doesn’t it come from your heart, or something like that?”

“That’s the thing,” he says. “All my heart is telling me these days is ‘Sicheng, you’re not rich enough to live on your own yet. Do not murder Hendery in his sleep, remember he pays half of the rent.’”

“Ah, all you need to do is leave Ivy boyfriend-less! Problem solved! You’ll get an A on your project once you get your focus back and you’ll be left with a full month of rent, but I think we really have to keep our priorities in check.”

“Do you promise to be my get-away driver?” He asks, grabbing a fry from the plate in front of you. “I’ll even let you play that weird mixtape you were listening to the other day.”

Resting a finger on your chin, you pretend to consider. You let out a hum, but you break into a soft laugh when Sicheng rolls his eyes at you. Leaning over the table, you steal one of his fries, taking a bite before he can say anything.

“I’d always be your get-away driver, Win,” you say, winking in his direction before finishing the fry. “No, but really. Why don’t you just give it a try? Pick some colors, see where they take you.”

He smiles, nudging the plate of fries closer to the center of the table. “Ah, I don’t know. The other option sounds quite nice right now.”

“He ate your leftovers, didn’t he?”

“It was Ivy’s Mexican food,” he explains, voice raising softly at the end of the sentence. “But I guess he’s the only reason Ivy gives us Mexican food anyways, so I’ll think about forgiving him while I work on my project. I don’t know, I might change my mind.”

“Such a proactive man,” you tease. “You know, that rhyme you did moments ago… you could become a poet, it touched my heart and warmed my soul and all. Dong Sicheng’s Selected Poetry: how I discovered my true passion during my roommate-less senior year of school.”

“Yes, what could I ever do without your support,” he smiles. “I was about to say I’ll send you a copy of the first print, but I think I’ll let you help me with the full rent I’ll have to pay by making you purchase your own.”

You laugh at his words before stealing another one of his fries, and when he nudges the plate a little closer to your side of the table, you think about just how lucky you were to have run into Sicheng once again.

The entire apartment smells like paint.

It’s a Sunday, a quarter past two, and the rain that had fallen since morning has finally stopped. There’s a quiet tune flowing in the living room, music emanating from Kunhang’s record player (or, well, his girlfriend’s record player) and sounding like a 70’s love song. It’s soft, and melodic, and before he can even think about it, Sicheng is moving his body along to the calm beat of the music as he stares at the canvas in front of him.

Two days after your meeting, he still hasn’t figured his piece out. He’s been playing around with colors, mixing in different amounts of pigment in the search of a divine strike of inspiration, but even after fanning out different shades of yellow, he’s back on square one.

Truth be told, he can’t just quite focus. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the fact that he told you about it, and now can’t think of it without thinking of you, or if he has actually, seriously, lost every bit of artistic sense he once possessed. God, yeah, it must be the latter one.

“Still no luck?” His roommate, Kunhang, asks as he comes home from a quick walk to the store. He heard the dangling of the keys before he even heard the door opening, but still, the younger boy’s voice makes him jump in his seat. “You’re lucky that’s due in two weeks, or else you’d be fucked, my dude.”

“Your faith in me is comforting,” he replies. “Maybe it’s the full hour of Joni Mitchell I’ve been listening to, though. I know Ivy swears by this album, but man, I haven’t had my 70’s genius enlightenment yet.”

“Nah, it’s definitely you,” Kunhang smiles, reaching inside the pocket of his hoodie and handing Sicheng a pack of peanut M&M’s. “Joni is sort of Ivy’s muse, you know, but this album is actually a revelation. Trust her, hear her calling and she’ll help. She helped me pass my Econ final last semester.”

“That was you actually going to class,” Sicheng laughs, placing the paint palette down on the table and opening the packet of sweets. “I actually don’t know what to do, though. I’ve been sitting here all morning and my brain is as dry as my canvas — god, no, whatever joke you were about to make, keep it to yourself.”

His roommate lets out a loud laugh, walking towards the kitchen with a can of Coca-Cola in his hand. Sicheng hears a soft “pop” over the music, and turns his focus towards his canvas again.

“Didn’t you say your friend was gonna help you?” Kunhang asks, voice loud. He stops for a few seconds, and when he speaks again, Sicheng can just hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh… or is that why you can’t focus?”

He knows he’s out of sight, but when Kunhang’s words bring a blush to his cheeks, he still bites on his lip and turns towards the big window on his right, as if trying to hide.

“Weren’t you gonna go have lunch with Ivy today?” Sicheng asks, trying to distract his friend, but he knows it’s not going to work before he even says anything.

“No, not today,” his roommate responds, returning to the living room with a cup in hand. A rainbow straw rises from the center, and through the clear plastic of the cup, Sicheng can see the contents of the can Kunhang had just bought. Coke with a straw? “That’s not gonna… You’re not gonna distract me, Romeo. Tell me, is their face the only thing you see when you think about art?”

“God, shut up, stop talking, never speak to me again.”

Kunhang sits on top of his red beanbag, coming face-to-face with his friend. The hood of his sweatshirt is still over his head, with his long, black hair falling out and fawning across his forehead. And, god, he’s grinning.

“I just wanna help you, Win!”

Picking up the palette, Sicheng wets his brush on the cup of cleaning solution he had poured out (in hopes of actually painting), and squeezes in a drop of white paint next to the mustard yellow he had managed to mix. He sets his eyes on the paint, trying to visualize the way the light bounces back on the paper of the books you read, golden and warm, and he doesn’t even fight the way his thoughts just seem to go back to you once more.

“No, but really,” Kunhang says, sipping loudly from his rainbow straw. He alternates between sipping and blowing bubbles, and Sicheng isn’t sure about just why the younger had felt the need to drink Coke with a straw. “You should think about it. Consider following my advice, my young padawan.”

Sicheng hums. He doesn’t really pay much attention to his roommate’s words, much too occupied with bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music. He keeps his eyes trained on his palette, carefully watching the colors mixing in as he stirs his brush in the paint. He raises it a bit, enough for the sunlight to hit the color completely, before he resumes the action.

“You’re not listening to me,” Kunhang whines. He shakes his drink, the loud sound of the ice cubes crashing against the plastic distracting Sicheng from the task at hand. “It all gets better once you confess, you know. You can finally be happy!”

“Okay, you’re saying that like you have any experience in it,” Sicheng laughs. “Didn’t Ivy confess to you? You know, asked you out on a date and kissed you afterwards because you were taking oh so very long in actually admitting your feelings?”

“Yeah, they did, and their life has been significantly happier since,” Kunhang smiles, sipping the last of the Coke before setting the cup down on the coffee table. Hard. “It doesn’t make my words any less true, you know. We’ve all seen you pining, bro. Just rip the band-aid off, channel your inner Shakespeare and enjoy eternal smooches or whatever the hell you’re into.”

Sicheng sighs just as the song changes, and he listens to the opening riff in the Pixies song before finally turning to look at his friend. His canvas still lays untouched, a million thoughts running wildly inside his brain. A million thoughts; wild, reckless, and all of them materializing in the shape of you.

“We’re just friends,” he says. It’s a lie, and he knows. Kunhang does, too, and he lets out a soft laugh in response. “Hey, it’s true! We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“And then you lost track of each other for, what, ten years?” Kunhang asks. “Look, my bro, heed my advice: sleep on it. Think about it while you paint, consider it as you walk to uni, do whatever you need to do to finally come to terms with the fact that you’re painfully in love with your best friend before it’s too late for you to do so.”

Before he can reply, a loud guitar riff interrupts his thoughts. He closes his eyes, lets out a quiet groan, and throws his head back before knocking on the wall once, twice, and three times, until his neighbor (and nemesis) finally ends up lowering the volume of Queen’s Stone Cold Crazy’s guitar solo.

“God, you must be kidding me! I’m seriously gonna — It’s Sunday, come on!”

“Don’t say anything Win, unless you want your Keroppi mug to go, too. I just saw you left it outside with your brushes,” Kunhang lets out a laugh. “You kind of deserve it, though, I saw the T-tool in the kitchen and I know you don’t skate.”

“Wait, they still haven’t returned Pocchaco? I cleared my cans when I saw the note!”

“So, how’s the painting going?” You ask.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Sicheng replies. “I’ve even been trying to manifest some focus by following Kunhang’s partner’s advice and listening to sad 70’s songs while I stare into nothingness. Yeah, I’ve gone insane. Got some pretty nice yellow hues, though.”

It’s Monday, the sky is cloudy, and you and Sicheng have just run into each other after class. It’s not too rare to see him around campus, though usually, both of you are too busy with trying to get to class or enrolled in conversations, so the interactions barely go beyond a quick wave or a hurried ‘hello’. It’s funny, though, because never would you have guessed you two have almost the exact same schedule, and thus, the same free spaces in your day. Now that you do, though, you’re sure to make the most out of it.

“Sad 70’s songs?” You smile. “Well, why don’t you listen to something a bit happier? You don’t have to change the decade if you really like the 70’s, just make it a bit more cheerful. Do you have anything in mind for the yellows?”

“Not really, but I think I’m just gonna roll with it,” Sicheng replies. He looks around and guards his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, shivering a little from the cold. “I might get something nice.”

“Oh, that’s for sure,” you say, nudging at his side. “If there’s anyone that can make art out of a sea of yellow hues, that’s you, Win.”

If he were to be completely honest, Sicheng has always known he’s in love with you.

Even when you were kids, and even during the years you spent apart, you had always been in the back of his mind like the melody behind a love song or the inspiration behind a poem. And even during the moments when he wasn’t feeling so poetic, during the moments that he wished he could just, for once and for all, gather enough courage to finally admit what he was feeling, he kept thinking of you as he looked for signs.

A sign in your voice, or in your eyes, or in your smile. A sign in a memory, or in an action, or in whatever little thing he could think about that could maybe make him think that you could, maybe, feel the same.

“Ah, now you’re just being nice,” he says, looking to the side. He can feel the tips of his ears go hot, and he’s completely sure, his face is an entire hue of red and a half. “What about you, though? Did you manage to get the takes you told me about the other day?”

You throw your head back with a sigh. “Taeyong didn’t have enough time to help me this week, and now I’m model-less and a month away from the deadline.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, feeling the wind crash against his skin as he tries to make up his mind. He quickly finds, though, that there’s not really that much left to think about. All of his commitments, all of his nerves — it all quickly transforms to you. You make it all worth it.

“I’ll help you,” he says, quickly. “It’s a short film, right? I’m pretty sure I could just squeeze it in.”

You quickly turn to look at him, mouth opening wide. Sicheng shrugs, a soft smile on his lips, trying to look as smug as possible under your surprised stare. He’s not sure if you buy his confident act, but you don’t really say anything about it, so he keeps it up. What was that Kunhang had always said? Oh, yeah, fake it ‘til you make it.

“Win, no, you’re pretty busy yourself,” you shake your head. “Besides, Taeyong owes me from that time I helped him with his final essay, and I wouldn’t want to take your time from you.”

“It’s no problem, really, it’s way better than the times Kunhang asks me to hold stuff for him while he hot-glues them to his models. I’m pretty sure that’s where most of my time goes these days. Besides, you told me you have the script already, right?”

You let out a laugh, soft. “Yeah, I’ll photo-copy it for you. God, Win, I don’t think I can thank you enough for this. You’re really about to save my life.”

He turns to face you, smiling at you from the side. He doesn’t need it, really, because seeing you as happy as you are right now, by his side, is more than enough. As your friend, as your boyfriend, as the model for your film, he doesn’t care — he just cares about being there with you.

“Are you going home? I can walk you in case it starts raining,” Sicheng offers, hands still balled up inside the pocket of his hoodie. As if on cue, loud thunder cracks from up above, and you can begin to smell the upcoming rain as you walk. “Or if you have some free time, we can go for a coffee? I could really use something warm right now.”

Your smile fades a little. “Oh,” you begin. “I promised to cover Taeyong’s shift at the record shop today. Roommate privileges and obligations, or whatever. Rain check?”

“Tomorrow?” He asks, and when you nod, he’s sure he can feel his spirits raise a bit. “I mean, we usually hang out on Tuesdays anyways.”

“It’s a date,” you say. You smile wide again, biting your lip as you hope he catches the tone in your voice. “We could go out for dinner if you want to, you know, change it up a bit.”

Sicheng blushes, a bit too hard for you not to notice, and he lets out a quiet giggle. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to anchor his nerves in a physical action, and you have to restrain yourself to not mention just how handsome he looks when doing that.

“Yeah,” he nods. He smiles, feeling his feet rising from the ground in his mind, because he thinks about your words and he feels like he’s flying, and he looks at your mind and he realizes that he never wants to come down. “Yeah, it’s a date.”

Taeyong’s coffee maker is loud.

You can faintly hear the bubbling of the water as the coffee brews, even over the music, and just as you’re about to comment on it, the scent starts reaching your nose. It makes your mouth water, and you turn towards the kitchen to see the little red dot still lit on top of the machine. You let out a quiet groan. Taeyong’s coffee maker is loud and slow.

It’s Tuesday, the clock marks a quarter to six, and your date with Sicheng feels closer and closer with every passing second. You had tried to not think about it during the first half of your day, but the reminder had you daydreaming as soon as you had stepped out of the shower in the morning.

“God, you’re just as dramatic as Johnny,” Lily, your best friend, comments. She’s sitting next to you on the living room couch, her flowy pink sundress pooling against her legs. “Five more minutes without coffee isn’t really going to kill you guys.”

“Says you,” Johnny comments, smiling at his girlfriend. “I’ll be sure to remind you of this the next time your quesadilla takes too long to grill, baby.”

“Okay, you do that on purpose though!” She exclaims, pointing in his direction. “I hear you laughing from the kitchen every time!”

Johnny gasps loudly, slapping a hand to his chest. “Me? Your loving boyfriend, doing that to you? To your quesadillas?”

His laughter betrays him, though, and he throws his head back mid-giggle as the coffee maker lets out a loud beep. Finally! Johnny smiles as he rises from one of the single couches by your side, quickly taking your place next to Lily as you walk towards the kitchen.

Grabbing two mugs from a shelf, you bop your head softly to the music coming out of the record player. The album, Prince’s Purple Rain, had been a Christmas gift from Jaehyun and his girlfriend, the third pair in your friend group, and something you had started listening to as a way to try and calm your nerves. It had been a sort of tradition when you still lived in your dorm and you visited Taeyong, Jaehyun and Johnny’s apartment (before the later two moved in with their girlfriends), and now that you share a place with your best friend (and the only single one out of the three), you keep that tradition going.

You hadn’t admitted it to your friends when they had asked (although you’re pretty sure they’re able to tell), but the idea of actually, finally, going on a date with Sicheng still has your heart beating wildly against your chest. What if things went wrong? Or worse, what if he suddenly realized you two are better off as friends? You’re not even completely sure he thinks of it the way you do. When he said yes, had he thought it was a friendly date? What if he had never intended to say yes, romantically, at all?

God, are you overthinking it? Yeah, you probably are.

“No, that’s just too many shots in a single coffee,” you hear Lily laugh, the sound breaking you out of your daze. “That's why you can't go to bed early! Isn't it too many shots?”

“Huh?” You turn, facing your friend. Johnny has his arm draped over her shoulders, but she’s still looking at you over the edge of the couch. “Are you asking me?”

“Ah, you’re right, I forgot you probably drink just as much coffee as him,” she smiles, bringing a hand to her head to smooth out a strand of her pink hair. “Where is the other tea lover when I need him?”

“He had a double shift,” you answer, filling both cups with steaming coffee. “He said he’d meet you guys for dinner here, though.”

You leave Johnny’s black, but you sprinkle in a packet of brown sugar in yours, shaking the cup a bit as you walk back to the couch. You quickly regret your action when some of the liquid inside the cup spills from the side, hot against the inside of your hand.

“Oh, you’re not staying?” Johnny asks, confused, as you hand him his cup. “I can’t believe it! Come on, I even brought the Beatles Monopoly for after dinner like you asked! You're telling me I carried this giant box around for nothing?”

You can’t help but laugh at his dramatism. Lily, next to her boyfriend, nudges his shoulder with hers.

“I, uh,” you begin, walking towards the chair Johnny had been using. “I thought Lily had told you. And that box isn't even that big, Johnny.”

“I did,” Lily responds, smiling. “I told him the moment we got off the phone. I’m so excited for you!”

“I swear I never heard it,” Johnny giggles, bringing the cup to his lips and putting it back again when he realizes the temperature of the beverage. “But you can tell me now! And don’t you dare skip any details!”

You’re sure you can feel your cheeks heating up, a smile threatening to break on your lips as you attempt to hide it behind your cup.

“It’s Sicheng,” you begin. “We — well, I sort of asked him out yesterday, when we were getting out of class. I… I didn’t know how, but I asked if he wanted to go for dinner today, and that’s why I’m skipping on your amazing Beatles Monopoly.”

“Oh god, I never knew you were crushing on Sicheng!” Johnny exclaims, accidentally spilling a few drops of coffee on Taeyong’s mustard yellow rug, but not paying it any mind as he grins at you. “I see it, though. He’s cute, and totally your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” you say, huffing. Lily giggles, raising her eyebrows at you, and Johnny simply points in your direction. “I don’t! I’ll tell Taeyong you both bullied me and we’ll see if he gives you his Chow Mein recipe.”

“He made Chow Mein?” Johnny asks, completely distracted from the previous topic as he begins to think about dinner. “God, his cooking is so good! You know, when we lived together, he used to collect all these scrapings from food magazines and sometimes when he couldn’t sleep he would randomly pick one from a hat and — ”

“As much as I’d like to hear that anecdote, we have more important matters to attend to right now, baby,” Lily says, smiling, cutting Johnny off before he can continue explaining Taeyong’s random recipe story. She looks over at you, her smile growing when your eyes meet hers. She gets up from her seat, smoothing out her dress as she makes her way over to you. “Let’s get you ready, or you, my friend, are gonna be late… and you have a guy to sweep off his feet.”

You’re still nervous.

All ready and repeating Lily’s pep talk, you still can’t help the way your hands shake by your sides as you walk down the hall. You’re not entirely sure what it is; the fact that you don’t know Sicheng as a lover or the fact that you know him too well as a friend, but still, the nerves behind the possibility of the night going wrong are, in a way, blocking you completely from thinking it could go right. God, you like him too much to screw this up.

Lily and Johnny, and eventually Taeyong (when he had finally gotten home), had tried to make you see just how good it could be. Yes, nerves were normal, and especially in a situation like this, but they had seen Sicheng around you, and they were sure he was just as infatuated by you as you were by him. Easier said than believed, though. Still, it was nice to know they were there to cheer you on, no matter just how their words seem to have fled over your head as soon as they had changed the topic (Taeyong had, apparently, told Johnny about Doyoung, the economics student he’s been sitting next to in the library and doesn’t, really doesn’t, have a crush on).

Just a typical Tuesday night — except for your date with Sicheng, of course. Oh, you just had to remember the date.

“Jesus, calm down,” you mumble to yourself, trying to smooth out the front of your sweater as you reach the elevator. You press the button as you try to remember Lily’s words to give yourself a pep talk. “It’s Sicheng, come on. You’ve seen him with green paint all over his face, it’s gonna be alright.”

And, I mean, what could actually go wrong?

“Hold the door!” Someone calls from outside in the hall, and you quickly set your foot in-between the elevator doors to stop them from closing, keeping your eyes on the faux marble lined floor. You hear a set of quick footsteps and loud breathing as the person who had called finally gets inside the elevator, and you can quickly tell that they’re panting. “Thanks, God, I really couldn’t have just waited for another one right now.”

The guy next to you rants about how long it takes the elevator to come up and down again, even telling you about how his roommate had used up all the hot water even when he knew he had to get ready for his date. The voice sounds familiar, but you don’t really give it much thought. Or at least, you try to, but it only serves to remind you of the very thing that has you twirling the ends of your sweater around your finger about. He sounds so much like —

“Sicheng?” You ask when you finally look up.

Next to you, Sicheng stands up straight, having placed his hands on his knees in an effort to regain his breath, and he freezes up on the spot. You’re not really sure what it is about him that makes your breath get caught in your throat. Is it the sight of him in a black turtleneck? Is it the confused look on his face? Is it the fact that he’s here, in the same elevator as you, of all places he could ever be at? What is he even doing here?

“Oh, hey,” he breathes out. From the look on his face, you can tell he also doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. He rests his back against the wall behind him in an effort to look a bit less nervous. Mission? Failed. “I… what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you say. There’s a quick silence shared between you two as you listen to the jazz-y elevator music neither of you had ever liked. “Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I live here too,” Sicheng answers. “You… I have never seen you ar—”

He stops mid-word, a look of understanding dawning upon his face as you let out a loud gasp. You turn to look at each other completely, raising your hands so you’re pointing towards each other’s frames as realization strikes the both of you like lightning.

“Wait!”

“God, okay, so you’re really telling me that all this time it’s been you who I’ve been shading on the bulletin board?” You laugh, throwing your head back as you do. “I stole your Pocchaco mug?”

The night is chilly, and the sky is clear, and you can practically feel the stars glowing all around you (okay, maybe it’s the city lights, but the hopeless romantic in you doesn’t really care). The crisp smell of chilly wind brought by the beginning of the fall brings a smile to Sicheng’s lips, which is only widened by the warmth that envelops his hand when it grazes against yours.

“Yeah, and I think I stole your T-tool,” he answers, laughing with you. “It’s been sitting in my kitchen counter for like, what, three weeks?”

“Yeah, Taeyong hasn’t really let me forget about it,” you say. “I’ve stopped asking him for his because every time I do, he starts telling me how I should go out to the hall and finally confront you face to face.”

He nods, grazing his hand against yours once more. You’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, swinging it a bit too far away from his body for it to be coincidental, but you’re not about to stop him.

“Kunhang always says the same thing when you don’t let me sleep with how loud you play your music,” he rolls his eyes, still smiling. A giggle hangs on the edge of his words, and you’ve known him long enough to know he’s only teasing. “Do you think they know? I mean, Kunhang knows I like you, but I’m not sure if he also knows I low-key hate you.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you laugh. “Lily and Johnny probably know, too! Actually, now that I think about it, I ran into Kun once in the hall and I never saw him again… I really should have guessed. He helped me with my groceries and all.”

“God, I see Johnny and Lily around all the time and I know they don’t live there, but I never would have thought they were visiting you,” he adds, laughing and shaking his head. “We’re both idiots! Like, actually. I even know what your handwriting looks like!”

You break out in a fit of laughter, stopping dead in your tracks, and Sicheng joins you shortly after, almost even falling over you as he closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the moment. You laugh right next to each other, loud and completely free, and there’s nothing more comforting than knowing he’s the person behind it. It’s a weird feeling for the two of you, but then again, not really. Sicheng and you have always felt like home to each other.

And then, even when the laughter dies down, there’s still an aura of pure, unfiltered happiness hanging all around you that brings a blush to the boy’s cheeks. He’s never felt happier, or more in love, and he knows it’s all due to you. He knows it’s always been.

You’re both a little out of breath when you stop laughing, turning and finding each other’s eyes under the bright city lights.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he says when he’s finally facing you. His voice is soft, as if he’s telling you a secret, but it’s loud enough for you to hear, as if he doesn’t mind the entire world knowing it. “I like you a lot.”

You don’t really notice the moment you both move towards each other, standing so close you can feel each other’s warmth against your chest. There’s the look on his eyes as they meet yours, and you don’t know if you will ever be able to think about anything else. Anything that isn’t him, and him and you, and the way he makes you feel.

“I like you a lot too, Win,” you answer, smiling when he slips his hands around your waist. “A bit too much, I think, considering I almost fell on my ass the other day because of your cans and I still really want to kiss you right now.”

Time seems to freeze for the two of you. For a moment, the world stops spinning and the entire moment is turned into a still-frame. You’re sure, that even if it’s just for a second, there’s nothing beyond the space that your bodies occupy, because the only thing that’s real is the feeling of your hand on his.

“So, what do you say, 10A?” Sicheng asks. “Truce?”

His breath falls hot over your lips, and you close your eyes the moment you feel his forehead touching yours. He smells strongly like mint and faintly like paint, and it’s everything you would have ever imagined. It’s everything you would have ever wanted. It’s everything.

You smile when you feel the ghost of a kiss against your lips.

“Truce,” you say.

It’s 1997, and you and Sicheng have been friends. It’s 1997, and you and Sicheng have been (sort of) enemies. It’s 1997, and you now stand somewhere in the middle, and it’s love, the most magical kind of it.

It’s 1997, and it’s him, and it’s you, and it’s you and him together, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

298 notes · View notes

hcuyk · 3 years ago

Text

09 — ON TOUR

﹙SYNOPSIS﹚after breaking the 'no dating' rule in their band, y/n and donghyuck end up in a messy breakup right before their first world tour. as the ex-lovers continue to act like a couple in front of their fans, jeno decides to join the scene

﹙PAIRINGS﹚drummer!haechan x gn!reader, bassist!jeno x gn!reader

﹙GENRE﹚humor, angst, but mainly fluff :]

﹙WARNINGS﹚profanities, jaemin screaming

CHAPTER NINE : it's official

─── · · · · 08﹙🖇﹚10

A/N : YOUR FAVORITE SMAU IS BACK. i finally got the motivation to write this chapter (can you believe it took me two months to finally pick this up? and then managed to write this in an hour or two? not to mention i'm currently dealing with a massive migraine like wtf) BUT WOOHOO. unfortunately, on tour will now have staggered updates, meaning i will post chapters whenever i feel like it. also, on tour has reached a full taglist!! i can't believe this many people have been ever so interested in this idea, so i really can't thank you guys enough for sticking with me. hopefully this chapter makes up for the lack of content in the last two months <3

#PERMANENT TAGLIST : @wooyoung-a @kimaya2209 @hwallswrld @changminurheart @jiye0n0 @sunfics @fullsunfluff @lcvekdy : form

133 notes · View notes

luvholicz · 3 years ago

Text

═══ cigarette kisses

pairing. nct 127′s jeong jaehyun x gn! reader

genre + wc. bad boy au, fluff + 0.5k

warnings. smoking and cigarettes!!notes. SOBBING i have never smoked once in my life im so sorry about this also UH this isnt my fave but its jaehyun so ig its fine

smoke billows from jaehyun's lips into thin ribbons in the air. music plays from his worn out speaker, filling the room with the sound of soft bass. jaehyun leans on his bed frame, pink lips wrap daintily around the cigarette, his eyes drooping tiredly.

you sit across him, legs tucked beneath you. a curious expression adorns your face, eyes tracing jaehyun's features. jaehyun thinks you look comically innocent.

"what?" he asks, voice raspy. "why are you looking at me like that?"

your eyes snap up to meet his before abashedly looking away. you chew on your lip for a moment before replying.

"what does it taste like?"

"hm?" jaehyun arches his eyebrow. he leans forward slightly, head cocking to the side.

"what does...your cigarette taste like?" you repeat, albeit a little less sure than you were a moment ago.

jaehyun's expression morphs into one of confusion before a smug smile tugs on the corner of his lips. a deep laugh emerges from within his chest.

"don't laugh at me!" you scold him pathetically, hiding your warm face behind your hand.

jaehyun sets aside his cigarette and tries to pull your hands away from your face. your resisting him, but he's just a little bit stronger than you and manages to wrap your arms around his neck. he pulls you on to his lap.

"you're so cute, you know that?" his lips graze your cheek before you pull away shyly.

"don't be so greasy, dude." you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

"i'll be as greasy as i want," he mutters, burrowing his face into the crevice where your shoulder and neck meet. you smell good, he thinks. like summer days and bright skies, with a faint hit of alcohol and smoke; his influence on you.

"do you still want to know?" he asks after a few beats of silence. you perk in his lap.

"know what?"

"know what cigarettes taste like, silly!" he chuckles, punching your shoulder playfully. he calls you overdramatic beneath his breath when you feign hurt and rolls his eyes.

"hmm, okay,"

you turn to face him, excitement filling your bright eyes. jaehyun is reminded of how innocent you were before you met him, how you never used to skip class and get into fights with people. he remembers thinking how much of a square you were back then, how he swore he'd never get along with people like you.

but he's always said that promises are meant to be broken.

"come here," jaehyun beckons softly, adoration filling his heart when your eyes drift down to his lips. he holds your chin between to fingers and brings your face to his.

you let out a little 'hm' when your lips meet his. jaehyun smiles, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks. you taste sweet, like fresh cherries. he loves it.

(he loves you.)

when you pull away, jaehyun's heart tugs him back to you and he leaves one last peck on your lips.

"so?" he waits for you to answer.

"it tastes like..." you trail off, hands moving excitedly as you try to gather your thoughts. when nothing comes up, you slump in your seat. "it tastes like you."

"really? and what does that taste like?"

you purse your lips into a thin line and crawl up next to jaehyun. he opens his arms and lets you lay on his chest.

"like, summer nights and bonfires," you trace a shape on his hoodie-clad chest. "and like honey and cherries. have you been using my chapstick?"

jaehyun laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. he cups your cheek with his hand. "well, do you like it?"

"i love it."

214 notes · View notes

doieblr · 3 years ago

Text

[ 1:08am ]

“When will you be coming back?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” Sangyeon sighed deeply, his lips tilted into a sad, longing smile. “It doesn't seem like the band’s going to be returning anytime soon.” At the sight of your despondent expression, he felt his heart clench painfully. Every fibre of his being wanted to be able to reach through his screen to cup your face in his hands, his finger longing to caress your cheeks like he did so many months ago. Yet, the distance between the two of you couldn’t have been further.

“... I miss you, y/n,” Sangyeon said softly as you looked up at him.��

His eyes were so full of emotion and affection that it was difficult not to smile at him and when you did, he did too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Please wait for me, okay?”

#kokonomi #ficscafe #tbz imagines #lee sangyeon #the boyz sangyeon #tbz sangyeon #sangyeon x reader #tbz scenarios #tbz timestamps #tbz drabbles #the boyz timestamps #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon timestamps #sangyeon scenarios

59 notes · View notes

tinysushimark · 3 years ago

Text

Movie Night (LMK)

Fluff, established relationship, suggestive, cursing.

Wc- 0.632k words, Y/n x Mark Lee.

// a/n: Tumblr is being a bitch :))))

Your hand slowly grazed his, trying to hold it, his oblivious face making it even more annoying.

"Mark, can you- Popcorn?" You said and his arms just flailed to pass the bowl to you, his eyes fixed on the television. The movie was background noise for you because all you could think about is the man beside you, your boyfriend who had been your best friend before.

The both of you had held hands before and so you thought it wouldn't be awkward when you got together, but as dates went by, you saw yourself and him acting obliviously towards any sort of sexual attraction, even if it was very much present in the room, like this moment.

The movie was just an excuse to make Mark sit beside you and watch the one sappy romantic movie you knew, so that when the couple on the screen kiss each other, he looks at you with loving eyes and kisses you too.

This however was an entire contrast to what you had expected for a movie date, Mark was actually pretty serious about the movie selection. He had chosen to watch a Sherlock Holmes movie, and was very focused on the movie, he hadn't spared you a single glance and his hands were constantly busy with the bowl of popcorn.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Mark said and plopped a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

"Sure babe." You said, trying to suppress a yawn.

You just couldn't take it anymore, so you decided to take charge of this very lost cause of a movie date..but how would one possibly do that? If you interrupt, Mark might get disturbed because he's invested in the movie. Your feet grazed along the patterns of the foot mat beneath you as you thought to yourself what you could do to make your boyfriend look at you.

"Oh fuck it." A part of your brain said and your hands involuntarily reached the remote and paused the movie, snatching the bowl of popcorn from his hand and pulling a tissue from nearby, your body leaned in towards Mark's and you draped your legs around his waist. You took the tissue and wiped his face, his eyes absolutely wide in surprise.

"Why are you so dense?" You said and wiped the remaining cheese powder from his face.

"D-Dense?" Mark said and looked at anywhere but your face. "Look at me, thickhead." You said and pinched his cheeks. "Now kiss me." You whispered softly, startling the man beneath you, his breath stopped for a minute and then his arms slowly secured you in place, his eyes now strictly on your face.

You bent down and kissed him, the hint of some cheese powder still on his lips, your tongue swiped clear off it all and you smiled in between the kiss, hands travelling slowly to his hair. You tugged at his hair and he pulled back, breathing heavily and his eyes then met yours, a slight blush decorating his cheeks.

"More." He whispered slowly. "I thought you didn't want any of this."

"No!" His voice raised and he looked at you in the eyes, his hands slowly pushing strands of hair behind your ear, "You don't know, I wanted to kiss you the day we started dating, but I thought you'd not like it and it was probably just me who wanted-"

"Thinking is not your department, idiot." You said and poked the mole on his cheek, "Why wouldn't I?" You said and pecked his cheek, his head collapsing in your shoulder.

"Look at me like you looked at that dumb movie." You said and pulled his face up, his face lit up when those words escaped your mouth. "Anyday." He said and gripped your thighs, taking you to your bedroom.

taglist: @jenoly-simp @taemin-jaemin @bluejaem @jaemotel @coffeevddict @dreamyyang @chunbyun

if you wanna be added to my taglist drop your @'s here.

Networks: @superm-net @kokonomi @pretty-neos

Read More: Masterlist

#mark lee scenarios #mark lee au #mark lee fluff #nct dream fics #nct dream fluff #nct 127 imagines #nct u x reader #nct 127 fluff #nct fics #nct fluff #nct u mark #nct writers #nct sfw #kokonomi #supermnet #superm fluff

99 notes · View notes

rrxnjun · 3 years ago

Text

all is on my side ; lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader genre: exes to lovers, angst, comfort, fluff word count: 7k (7.168) warnings: swearing, mention of a break-up, mentions of alcohol and food/eating behaviors a/n: WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO FUCKING DO SO THIS WILL SHOW UP IN THE TAGS

this is a part of the @/kokonomi ikanaide event

synopsis: your college years have passed and when you finally decide to move back into your hometown, you’re met with a certain someone you had cut off 4 years ago. moving into a new apartment with your ex-boyfriend helping you is surely not how you imagined your return to act out, but with more and more time passing, you realise you can’t keep doing the same mistakes in the same town-- all is on your side when he’s on your side, after all.

blue monday series | playlist

i. in a club you despise. but you go where all your friends are

The dirty haze of drinks with cannibal eyes. That’s the reality around you as your head spins just the slightest from the daze of the alcohol, your face a little too flushed and your eyes glossy from the effect the few drinks had on you. Your friends have made it their quest to make you feel welcome back in your hometown again, the group around you getting along just as if you never even left, the four years gone, but never forgotten.

You despise the club and the dirty smell of the spacious room around you. You despise everything about it and the drunk teenagers screaming all around the humongous hall, but it’s okay because you have your dear friends around you. You go where all your friends are, it’s only natural for you, because once your heart has finally settled at home, you don’t feel like dragging it away.

“How did you even manage to live with her for so long? She’s a pain in the ass!” you hear one of your high school classmates, Ryujin, call out and laugh at your roommate’s face.

Lia only shakes her head in disbelief, her glossy eyes drifting all around the club as she smirks. “I know, right? She never once helped with the cleaning. I almost kicked her out once, because she forgot to lock the door after she came home at midnight and someone broke in and wanted to steal our TV!”

Your brightly red booth resonates in laughter as Yeji bends over and smashes her hand against the table, not containing herself with emotion. You notice just how similar your friends from college and your friends from high school are. All of them now mature, knowing you better than anyone ever could, bright smiles illuminating all of their faces. It’s almost like God blessed you in every single time-space of your life. You were never once left alone.

“No way! Y/N, you’re a terrible roommate,” Chaeryeong screeched, pointing fingers at you as her face flushed with redness and her eyebrows furrowed in another fit of laughter.

“How would you know? I never lived with you!” you try to argue, playfully glaring at Lia for exposing your past mistakes in front of everyone. Not that you minded anyways.

“Well, thank god you didn’t,” Chae snickers, nudging you with her elbow.

“All you do is bitch about me, but did you forget that it was you who left the water in the tub running and flooded our apartment just a week after living there?” you burst out, offended, “I don’t hear you mentioning that to the table!”

“Woah, ladies, don’t fight here, we don’t want any hard feelings before you move in together again,” Yeji giggles, trying to calm both of you down.

“She could never, she depends on me too much with the shopping,” you snicker, rolling your eyes as you take the glass of your drink into your hand, raising it to your lips and taking a sip before the whole table follows you.

Your eyes drift off the ladies at the table and towards the full club, searching for no one in particular, as you don’t recognise a single soul. You’re much older than everyone enjoying their lives in the small bar of your town, but once your eyes meet with someone familiar, you choke on your drink.

The alcohol is going through your nose quicker than you imagined it to, coughing and making distressed Chaeryeong trying to calm your body by smashing your back, getting the liquid out of your lungs and laughing in the process, making a ruckus.

Your eyes never leave the gaze of a familiar face, the reality disappearing for just a second as you see the figure slowly moving towards all of you, the pit in your stomach deepening with the glorious smile of your ex-boyfriend meeting the table you’re sitting at, his slim figure dressed in all black making your heart thump just like many times before.

Something sitting at the back of your head is screaming at you to disappear. But at the end of the day, graduating college with a degree doesn’t always mean you’re actually smart. And so you continue to sit there, cursing at yourself in your brain for ever letting the man in front of you go.

“Having fun, ladies?”

ii. whether any of this still real

Moving into a new apartment is always a hassle. It’s exhausting and it’s boring, it makes your head spin and your thoughts fill up with piled-up stress, but with your roommate Lia-- the person you’ve spent all your college years living with-- and your ex-boyfriend Jeno, who somehow, after getting drunk with him in the club on the night of your return, is now back in your friend circle, everything seems a little easier to do than if you were all alone.

The presence of Lia’s best friend from college, Donghyuck, that came to visit just so he could see your new apartment and make fun of how small it is in his eyes is the only thing eating up your nerves as you crack open a can of white paint and sit in the middle of what’s going to be your bedroom as of now, sighing.

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Hyuck, I swear I’ve never heard you complain so much about a thing that doesn’t even affect you before-” you mourn, scowling as you roll your eyes at the male standing in your doorway, snickering.

“I’m just taking up all of your attention before I have to go back again, give me some enthusiasm! I’m not going to stay here forever,” he whines, shuffling his feet outside of your bedroom and meeting Lia in the hall, hugging her tight around her shoulders.

“Yeah, thank god you’re not,” you roll your eyes, making the male fakely cry.

“Tell your roommate off, she’s being rude again.”

“Don’t hurt Hyuck’s feelings like that, Y/N, you know he’s fragile,” Lia dotes, throwing you a paintbrush so you can finally start painting the walls of your new room white, covering the ugly yellowish colour that’s been sitting there since only God knows when.

Letting out an airy laugh, you only shake your head and stare at Jeno in front of you, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor. He is wearing grey sweatpants and a white shirt, an outfit casual enough for the event that is helping his ex-girlfriend and now a new friend move into her new apartment, but still worthy enough of a few stares as you notice the muscles poking outside of his sleeves. Jeno hasn’t changed one bit in the past four years, so it seems-- only his face has gotten more mature and structured. Thank god the eye smile stayed with him, though. You can’t help but still see him as the fluffy ball of a samoyed when he flashes you his award-winning grin.

“And you’ve been living like this for the last four years?” he asks, voice coated in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you faintly nod, snickering, “well, Hyuck’s only gotten more and more annoying, but I think it’s mainly because it’s been four years and he still hasn’t grown balls to ask Lia out yet and now she’s slipping through his fingertips. Other than that, it’s been pretty chill, actually.”

“Didn’t hear that when we were out in the club,” Jeno notes, looking at you with a playful smirk.

“Don’t buy into Lia’s bullshit. She is faking it for attention,” you laugh, getting up and taking some paint onto your brush, sliding towards the wall and starting to work on the corners, making the wall your canvas-- ready to be filled with a thick coat of paint with a paint roller later.

To have Jeno here like this, helping you move into your new apartment, was a strange concept. While the two of you broke up on good terms, it was no secret that you two didn’t keep in touch after you told him the news that you didn’t want to continue the relationship anymore. It’s not like it was hard to do in the first place-- unfollowing him on Instagram to keep your heart safe was just a click away and you only ever came home for holidays. You spent those with your family and friends anyways; there was no time for Lee Jeno in your busy, college packed life.

“How have you been, by the way? We haven’t really caught up,” you ask, taking a short glance towards him, seeing him sitting in the corner and working on the space right next to your window.

He hums a little before responding, a silent sigh escaping his lips. “Just the usual. Decided to drop out of college after an associate degree. It wasn’t for me, but at least I have a paper in my hands now,” he snickers, making you hum in understatement.

It’s not like you didn’t know this information. You may have not talked to him, but there’s no way at least something regarding your infamous ex-boyfriend hasn’t caught your ear when you visited your dear hometown over the course of the last four years. “So you work now?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he says, nodding, “I have a nice job, though, so you know… it was at least good for something.”

You’re not going to comment on the fact that he doesn’t sound as cheerful about his life right now. For some reason, and even though it breaks your heart, it’s too hard for you to talk about the misery of others, for you don’t want to sound like you pity them when the intention is not that at all. You guess you lack the skills to make one feel understood and accepted. It’s something you promised yourself you’ll work on after you broke it off with Jeno, but you guess you were too caught up with studying to actually make some self-improvement. It’s no excuse, not even a poor one, to say the least, but at least it’s an explanation.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” you let slip past your lips, lost in thought.

“It’s not something I find fulfilling,” he shrugs, “but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, furrowing your brows. “What about that… business you wanted to open? With animals and stuff?” you asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s not every day you talk about busted dreams and heartbreak with others. You don’t want to sound insensitive. “It’s always been your dream.”

“Ah, that?” he mumbles, redness creeping up his neck. Something about you remembering such a trivial fact about him makes him feel just a little better about the whole situation-- you leaving, you acting like you forgot all the years you had together-- and even though it’s silly, it makes him feel at least a tiny bead of hope. “It’s still just a dream, yeah.”

“Hm,” you hum, “well, I hope you can make that dream a reality soon,” you say, smiling at him with what you hope comes off as support, quickly averting your gaze back to the white wall in front of you to complete your quest of renovating your new bedroom.

It seems like silence is what eats the both of you up from the inside the most it can, when Jeno decides to break it just the second it happens in fear of being awkward. Being awkward with your ex is perhaps the worst thing that could happen and even though you two haven’t talked in years, Lee Jeno refuses to let that happen now, that you are back and still looking like home to him.

“How were your college years? Wild? Just as you imagined them?” he asks, grinning at you with the memory of the conversations you two had just before you left, dreaming of the big city and big experiences, living freely and having fun.

You snicker at his words, shaking your head at how reckless you were when you were nineteen. “Not at all,” you let out, “wild, yes. Just as I imagined? Not at all. There was more studying than my teenage self predicted, and even though I went to a few parties and had some fun, I regretted it more than anything the next morning.”

“It’s not fun being hungover in class, right?” he teases, making you giggle.

“Speaking from your own experience?”

“Perhaps,” he dotes, walking over to the can of paint in the middle of the room to take some more of it on his paintbrush and smear it over the opposite wall. Your words resonate in the empty room, making them ring a little in your ears as you listen to the stable tone of Jeno’s voice, reminding you of the many times when he talked you to sleep, making you abandon your weak thoughts and broken cries.

“Well, then you must know that drinking on Sunday is a definite no-no. Or any other day except Friday, that is,” you laugh.

“You just have to manage your time better, that’s all. I was an expert at that in freshman year. Drink in the afternoon, let yourself cool off until night and then sleep it out. Fresh in the morning and ready to start my day like the good scholar I was,” he explains matter-of-factly as if drinking in the afternoon was the most normal thing to do in your college dorms.

“Freshman year? Kids these days,” you snicker, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth in a teasing manner. The most memorable memory of your freshman year quickly creeps into your brain-- the night you broke up with Jeno over Facetime, crying and hiccuping with guilt and shame-- making you wonder if that’s what you made of him. You wouldn’t know, and you dare to say you wouldn’t even like to know. Sometimes, it’s better to live in blissfulness.

“Oh my god, Donghyuck, if you don’t put that down right now, I’m going to kill you-” you hear your roommate yell from the other room, cutting off your stable conversation and making the both of you snicker at the loudness of her voice. Lia is not the one with a short temper, but when it comes to Lee Donghyuck, you guess no one is safe in this world.

The yell is followed by a loud bang on the floor, silence creeping into everyone’s bones as you halt in your movements, awaiting what’s next. Just when you think everything’s okay and nobody died, you hear your roommate yell out in frustration, her voice close to a cry as you can visibly imagine her with her hands in her hair, ripping them out.

“You told me to put it down, so-”

“Put it down, Hyuck. Put. It. Down! Not throw it to the fucking ground, oh my god, you fucking prick. Those were my favourite cups! If they’re broken, you’re buying me new ones and I don’t care that you got student loans!”

“Chill, woman. I’m pretty sure those were just Y/N’s boxes full of useless stuff anyway-”

“What did you say?!” you yell out, temper rising with the visit of your college friend. You remember him being a total menace to society, but if he really broke the last bit of your tapestry from your dorms, you’re not going to tolerate him anymore.

You hear Jeno laugh at your banter from somewhere behind you, making you turn around and take in the sight of his pretty smile. It’s been a while since you last got the chance to appreciate it. You guess you were too selfish for letting it go all those years ago.

“I don’t know how Lia can tolerate him, he’s so-” you start, but finish your sentence with a sigh, not opting to even look for a word worthy of the annoying ball that is Lee Donghyuck currently standing in your kitchen.

“Love is blind, you know,” Jeno says, making you giggle. You wonder if he loved you as blindly as he speaks of Lia and Hyuck now-- you think that it must have been that way, for there was no way he would have loved you with your flaws. He must have overlooked them, too blinded by the love; it was only a matter of time before you opened his eyes for him with the cruel reality of your break-up.

“Well, Lia’s really fucking blind, then,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“What about you?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow. Once your eyes meet, he averts his gaze to the wall, too shy to look you in the eye.

“What about me?”

“Is there someone you were into in college? I mean, you were all about that fun when you were leaving, so…” he says, words like daggers in your heart as you listen to his question.

You lick your lips in nerves, shaking your head in disapproval. “No. I was too busy for all of that shit,” you respond.

Coincidentally, that’s a lie. You’ve just never quite gotten over Lee Jeno.

“I see,” he nods, mouth opening to say something more, when the sound of footsteps cuts him off and a pissed-off Lia appears in the opened door, face tired and a box in her hands.

“I think this is yours. Please look after it before Hyuck smashes it to the ground again,” she lets out before she puts the cardboard box to the ground, a big sign written in sharpie on the left side saying ‘Photos’, making you grin. Of course, it's a little too big of a box with all the polaroids you’ve taken in the last five years.

Your friend Ryujin got you the camera on your birthday and you have refused to let it go ever since. Even the worst of pictures were treasured inside of this box, because, as you told everyone, the film was too expensive to just casually throw away. That, and you actually held too much attachment to the pieces of paper you call memories.

“You still collect those?” Jeno asks, smiling at you widely when he notices the box sitting in the middle of the room now, making you grin.

“Of course I do! You know I’m sentimental,” you dote, rolling your eyes at your own ridiculousness, shuffling closer to the cardboard and opening the box, the paintbrush long forgotten and your ex-boyfriend quickly joining you by your side, looking from behind your shoulder and laughing at the silly pictures you show him, taking them out one by one from the box.

“This was from last Halloween,” you say, showing him the picture of you and Lia dressed as Anabelle and the girl from the movie The ring, making Jeno snort and shake his head at the two of you.

“I thought you hated horrors.”

“Oh, I do,” you nod, showing the picture back to the box, “but the theme of the party was gore and my classmate Chan said that whoever had the best costume on his party will get free drinks to take home, so the two of us couldn’t miss the chance, you know.”

“Did you win?” he asks, raising his brows at you.

You furrow your brows, expression fakely offended as you scowl at him and playfully smack his shoulder. “Of course we did! What do you have us for?” you shake your head in disbelief of his mistrust in you, “we had those drinks in our fridge until like Christmas, though,” you mutter, making the boy laugh.

Pictures upon pictures, all showing different memories of your college years. Jeno listens to all of your stories and admires the smile on your face when you mention an old friend or when you think of the atmosphere of a chilly night you spent with your coworker from your part-time job, Seungcheol. You look as if you never even left. You wonder if Jeno feels sad for not sharing memories with you for the past few years. You wonder if he blames you; it would be fair, considering you were the one who cut off his chance anyway.

Jeno wonders if you ever missed him in the moments when you smiled at the camera.

When the pictures get older and older, Jeno starts to recognise your longer hair and your younger face. It’s the face he knew too well, the face of his girlfriend at the time; the pictures from the high school years hitting different in his heart when he recognises the numerous photos of you he took without you looking, making you mad for wasting your film on selfies you never wanted to keep in the first place, but did nevertheless, because each one has a memory behind it that’s filled with Jeno and his utter admiration for your features displayed on the paper.

“Look, this was our anniversary,” you say shyly, showing him a picture of you two in his car, the smiles on your faces bright and cheerful. You don’t remember when you last smiled like that-- sure, your college years were fun, but you doubt anything will ever top the feeling of freedom and love you felt when you were beside Jeno, carefree and in too deep to think of anything else.

You hear your ex-boyfriend hum in response, your heart quickening just a little at the sound. You pick out another picture, a photo of him at the driver’s seat, flash illuminating his sharp jawline. You don’t remember where you went, hell, you don’t even remember when it happened, but the memory of his favourite song playing in the background and the smell of his car lingers in your mind; the mix of citrus and the obnoxious car perfume you buy at the gas station accompanying your every memory of the rides you had with Jeno.

“Everyone was jealous of me when I dated you in high school,” you snicker, making your ex-boyfriend grunt and roll his eyes.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious! Look at yourself,” you click your tongue against the top of your mouth, smiling. Teenage Jeno was truly a blessing to the eye, and with passing years, so it seems, it’s only gotten better. You’d be cheesy to say your ex-boyfriend aged like fine wine, but there’s truly not a better correlation to say as you momentarily shoot him a look and admire the never-changing jawline, although his cheeks have gotten more slender and his features more defined.

Jeno takes it into his own hands as he rummages through the cardboard box, now recognising most of the places you took pictures of, taking out a particular photo of the two of you standing next to each other in formal attire, your hair tied up in a pretty bun.

“Look! Prom,” Jeno grins, bringing back a memory of him meeting your parents for the first time. You haven’t been dating for that long, but it was still long enough for him to meet your parents; almost like you always knew he wasn’t just someone you’d take to prom once.

“You were so nervous,” you giggle, making him laugh out loud.

“Well, your mum was scary,” he shrugs, “you can’t blame me for wanting to make a good first impression!”

“You were adorable,” you note, placing a nonchalant hand onto his thigh, not even thinking of your actions, “my mum actually told me how much she liked the polite young man I brought home and told me that I chose well. I was convinced she fell in love with you for a few days, she couldn’t stop talking about you.”

“Well, what can I say,” he shoots you a smug look, “I am just that charming.”

“Right, right,” you roll your eyes at him, making the both of you break into laughter, looking at more and more pictures from your relationship, trying hard not to notice the lump in your throat and the emptiness in your stomach telling you just how much you miss the times when his hand was free for you to hold and his heart free for you to take.

You missed Jeno. There was no denying that.

There was no denying that when you first got into college, when you Facetimed him every day and told him all the news. There was no denying that when you cried your first hot tears in the middle of the night because he was too far away to comfort you and make you feel better about the distance. There was no denying that when you broke up with him just for that sole reason-- for the distance killed you and you had to focus on your studies more, and there was no denying that when your roommate held you in your sleep just so you wouldn’t feel as alone without his calls and good night messages.

The said roommate is now standing in the doorway of your room, smiling fondly at both of you with two glasses of wine in her hands. You wonder what she thinks of Jeno’s visits. She’s the one that helped you through the heartbreak, after all.

“What are you two doing? I thought you were getting some work done,” she teases, squatting next to you and showing the glasses to your hands.

“Well, we’re surely not getting any work done if we drink those right now,” Jeno says, but takes a sip nonetheless, making you furrow your brows at him as you clink your glass with him in cheers even though he’s already raised it to his lips.

“We have all the time in the world now, there’s no rush,” Lia says, taking a photo into her hands from the pile and taking a look at the smiling couple, the soft tugging of the corners of her lips coming unnoticed to the two of you, opting to stare at different pictures sprawled out on the ground.

“We were a good couple, you know,” you note.

The sinking feeling in Jeno’s stomach doesn’t go unnoticed, chewing on his lips as he silences it out with another sip, nodding.

“Yeah.”

iii. at a spinning wheel. it's sitting in the back of your head

The mattress of your dorm bed isn’t the softest thing you’ve felt under your body and the walls feel even colder in your room tonight. Somewhere between the piles of books and questions running through your head, the homesickness overpowered most of them and you had no other choice than to cut them all off.

It was a selfish choice. A cruel one, to say the least. But what else could you do to protect your heart and focus on your studies?

The Facetime call is your only source of communication now. It’s not fair to do it so suddenly and over the phone, but the weight of your decisions is sitting on your shoulders and even though you feel like suffocating, and you don’t actually think what you’re about to do will make your breathing come and go easier, it’s your only lifeline-- the last resolution, although it’s just as hopeless, if not more than all the other ones.

Jeno picks up after a few rings. He’s not busy-- never busy for you. You may be a hundred miles away, but his heart is still as close to you as always.

“Hi,” he greets you, voice calm and mellow. His smile feels like a punch to your heart, a twist in your stomach as you try to smile back. You try to focus on some other things-- maybe if you managed to pretend some more, you would eventually change your mind-- but his voice breaks the disturbance and crawls into your skin.

“Everything alright?” he asks, voice coated in worry. Damn him for being so generous when you’re about to do the most selfish thing you’ve ever decided on. He’s making it so much harder for you by being just the best boyfriend anyone could ever imagine.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to nod. Just a few seconds.

You’re giving yourself just a few more seconds to take in Lee Jeno. To admire him through the phone screen, to look into his eyes as they create moon crescents when he smiles at you in encouragement, to bite down harshly on your lower lip to keep yourself from sobbing when you replay memories in your head and realise you’re never going to create another one. It’s been 3 years since you started dating him and truth be told, you could never imagine your future without him in it. Reality is what keeps you away from him, though.

Right person, wrong time, was it?

“We need to break up, Jeno,” you say, voice weak and faint. The look he gives you is close to the one he gazes at you with when you get too deep into your head and stutter anxious conclusions under your breath, bringing yourself down. Even in a moment like this, he tries to guard you. To build you up onto your own feet again, to give you the strength you’re lacking.

“Why?” he asks. It’s hard to read him now. You don’t know if it’s the wall you built up around yourself or the one he quickly made up right now, but you feel the distance between the two of you even more than ever.

You sniffle, the beginning of your most heartfelt breakdown. “It’s not working out right now. You’re- you’re too far away and I miss you, and I can’t just- I can’t just sit here and miss you when I have things to do and people to meet and lessons to learn…” you ramble, throwing your hands into your hair and tugging on it in frustration.

“Am I… holding you back?” he asks softly. You’re not too sure you see him breaking. Perhaps it’s not at its worst yet, perhaps the reality hasn’t sunk in yet.

“Not in the way you think,” you quickly shake your head, eager to explain yourself, “it’s not like I don’t want you anymore, or that I don’t want to date you anymore. You’re not holding me back dating-wise, because I’d never want to date anybody else,” you shakily get out, picking at the skin of your cuticles.

“It’s just that it pains me to have you so far away. I know I said I could do long distance, but when I said so, I haven’t tried it yet. I didn’t know just how hard it is and how much I would miss your presence,” you take a deep breath in, “and it’s holding me back, because I can’t stop thinking about you and missing you, and I really need to… move on,” you complete, waiting for his reply.

“Move on… from me?” he asks. His voice is suddenly breaking, and you can’t even see him through your tears anymore. The candle in the corner of your table is the only source of light flickering onto your face with the laptop screen as you sob, nodding at him and scrunching your face up in pain.

No one told you heartbreak can cause physical pain. You thought they were all lying. You can feel it in your soul, in the deepest, darkest pits of your stomach, in your bones and in your heart. It stings and it hurts and you don’t think it will ever get better, because you’re losing a part of yourself by your own account-- it’s your fault to be so selfish.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, waiting for him to be mad, waiting for him to scream at you and yell at you just as loudly as your conscience does.

Lee Jeno remains silent, though, he remains composed and just as calm as the time after the storm. You hear him sniffling a little from the other side, your own sobs shaking your body. You wish for him to be there to hold you, to make you forget all your pain-- you don’t want to miss him. You don’t want to miss him now that he’s gone, you don’t want to miss him when you’re here alone. You don’t want to miss him, because he’s supposed to always be by your side.

“It’s okay,” he says, trying to calm you down. The tone of his voice is unmistakably beautiful, deep and solemn notes trying to bring your breathing back to normal. “I understand. You… you need to focus on yourself and your growth. And your studies, and the woman you’re becoming. And who am I to stand in your way?” he says, trying to lighten up the situation.

“B-but I love you,” you mourn, hands helplessly wiping away your tears.

“I know, love,” he says, lightly chuckling, “but… you are more important than I’ll ever be. And if this will help you to have your life a little easier, I can understand. And I can wait-”

“Don’t wait,” you suddenly get out, shaking your head. Afraid of coming off the wrong way, you quickly take a deep breath in and explain your hurried plea. “I’d- I’d feel so guilty for making you wait. If you wanna date… don’t say no just because I’m here and I love you, okay?”

I don’t deserve you anyway, you think.

And just like that, you end your relationship. It was your decision, made in the dark of your dorm room, accompanied by the calming smell of your candle and the voice of Jeno lowly mumbling to you through the speaker of your phone. He tells you how it’s okay and how you don’t have to feel guilty. He encourages you to do your best and he tells you he will never forget you.

You almost regret your decision the moment you made it.

Jeno lets you go calmly, with a shaking pain in his soul. It’s like saying goodbye to much more than just a person-- it’s like saying goodbye to his youth, his love, all of his smallest fragrances of happiness.

As you hang up that night, he tells you a sentence you never let go off your mind.

iv. all is on my side when you're on my side

From waking up to his face shining at you from the other side of the bed, the early rays of sunshine illuminating his features in the softest, subtlest of lights, to making him breakfast and thinking of the actions of the previous night-- Lee Jeno feels more back in your life than he ever did; after sleeping next to you, drunk on the scent of love and red wine, making it feel like he’s helping you move into a shared apartment with him and not your best friend from college.

You don’t speak much when you reminiscence of the wrong choices of letting him sleep with you on the mattress you’ve thrown onto the floor in the middle of your living room, only opting to try to move on with no harsh feelings and no second thoughts that could make you even more confused and hesitant about the situation.

When he decides to build your bed with you (more like for you, because even though you have a degree and a good set of brains, physical capability is still not your best suit) and the flat falls silent after the departure of Lia and Hyuck- whom she decided to invite to a café nearby to take the thoughts of him leaving out of both of their heads. It’s not a comfortable silence, but you’re also not feeling too awkward. The air isn’t thick and you don’t feel embarrassed, no, but truth be told, the reality is that you’d like it more if you knew how to get your words out and articulate your feelings, after all this time.

“We’ll meet again,” he murmurs, catching you off guard. Your breathing catches in your throat as his words bring back the painful memory, the sentence being the last thing he’s said to you when you broke up with him before ending the call. He looks at you through his eyelashes, glancing up just for a moment from the manual sitting in his hands, chuckling. “Remember when I said that?”

You find it in yourself to nod, licking your lips to reply something, anything to soothe your nerves. Why is he suddenly bringing up your breakup?

“Guess I meant it, after all,” he says, looking back to the pieces of wood on your floor, taking a screwdriver into his hands and building up the wood together to form a bed frame. You watch him with curious eyes, the hesitance bubbling in your throat. Is this how you resolve a conflict that happened many years ago? In your new flat, the event long forgotten?

“Yeah,” you nod, ignoring what his words implied, knowing damn well he was still in love with you when he promised to wait for you to be finally ready. You hope he’s not still waiting. Perhaps you’d hate yourself even more after knowing that.

“I’m glad it happened,” he mutters, looking lost in thought, “I… I missed you a lot, you know,” he says, nodding to prove his point.

“I missed you too,” you dote, not a missed beat. Finally, there’s an emotion you can articulate clearly-- a feeling you long felt inside of your bones.

Longing. You long for Jeno, you long for the memories you created with him, you long for the ways he made you feel and his heart that once belonged to you. You wish to have it back in your hands, knowing you would treasure it more now, knowing you would take care of it and make sure no one ever breaks it just as much as you did-- with much regret and heartbreak, crying for the image of what the two of you could have been.

“I wasn’t sure how true my words were. It seemed like you were letting go of me for good, you know? I wasn’t ready for that, but I was ready to accept it. We were young, but even back then, you still had your priorities set,” he says, each word making you more and more speechless. You guess talking it out isn’t the best thing you imagined in this fine afternoon, but you don’t really blame him for the questions in his head. It’s only fair for him to get an explanation.

“Maybe you should have been my first priority, though,” you screech out, voice faint. You don’t want to sound weak, but that’s exactly how you feel under his examining gaze.

“And maybe I shouldn't have been. I mean, look at you,” he says, motioning to you with a nod of his head, softly snickering, “you’ve grown so much. I admire you a lot, actually. It must have taken you a lot to decide. You did well,” he says.

You don’t think there’s a person in this world more worthy of loving than Lee Jeno. You once said goodbye to him, thinking it was for good, yet, here he is-- making you realise that it’s always been him, and he promised you to meet again. After all, it makes perfect sense now. You’d be foolish to think you were meant to be, but your heart is screaming at you to believe it.

“I just… really didn’t want to fuck it up. Anything. So I escaped it,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip. It takes you a lot to look into his eyes, but when you finally do it, you think you could burst with emotion any time.

Jeno stands up from his place on the floor, done with screwing the screws in place and mending your bed together, taking the mattress from the living room and plopping it inside of the bed frame, admiring his work. You’re glad for the short distraction, allowing yourself to take deep breaths, training your brain to calm down and think of it as just a friendly conversation.

You’re just two adults, talking about the pain of your teenage years. It’s all okay- so why does it feel like you’re given a second chance?

“Shall we try the bed out?” he asks, looking at you with a smirk. Heat creeps up your cheeks at the suggestion, mouth opening to gasp something out when he snickers at you and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, you pervert.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” you laugh, playfully pushing him against his shoulder.

Letting himself fall on your mattress, his body sprawls out across the space. You soon follow him, laying next to your ex-boyfriend so you’re face to face, eyes bearing into his with a wave of fondness you still have for him, the feelings never truly leaving you even after all those years.

It suddenly starts to rain and the raindrops falling on the window remind you of autumn-- the season when everything ends, the time of the year when you once said goodbye to your first boyfriend. Autumn reminds you of goodbyes.

“I-” he starts, but cuts himself off, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. You gently kick him with your leg to make him continue, to which he sighs and cracks his knuckles.

“Would you want to meet again? After this?” he asks, voice hopeful.

Yet, something inside of you tells you that it’s not fair for him, that you hurt him once and fear doing it again. Something inside you makes you stop and think, the barrier you’ve built around yourself when you were young resurfacing with the pleading eyes he gives you, anxiety tying knots in your stomach.

“Jeno, I don’t know… It’s… I don’t want to mess it up again,” you say, head full of doubts and worries.

“We can’t keep making the same mistakes in the same town. I let you go once, and sure, maybe that was meant to happen, but look at us. We’re not young and scared anymore. We’re not hundreds of miles away from each other, we’re not busy with studying and assignments, we’re not dumb and impatient anymore. It’s different, it’s all different, except from our feelings,” he says, reciting like he’s practised it for several days, each word resonating in you like a spell, “don’t you still feel the same? Even now?”

Staring into his eyes, you feel the subtlest touch of his hand on yours, making your insides shiver and your mind hazy. “Of course I do,” you whisper.

“Then… let’s try again. If you want to,” he proposes, locking fingers with you and never leaving his gaze from your eyes.

Autumn reminds you of goodbyes. Autumn reminds you of Lee Jeno. Yet, goodbyes mean so much more to you now-- they mean a new beginning, a chance to start over, now that you’re finally ready.

With the right person, at the right time.

“Let’s try again.”

#knm.ikanaide #kokonomi #nct dream #nct dream imagine #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct #nct imagine #nct angst #nct fluff #nct reaction #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno imagine #jeno x reader

744 notes · View notes

floraljae · 3 years ago

Text

PROSDOKÍA

prosdokía, meaning expectation in greek

Pairing. God!Jaehyun x young priestess!reader

GENRE. angst

WORD COUNT. 0.5k

WARNINGS. None, just sad ;-;!

NETWORK. @/kokonomi @kpopscape @neoturtles @nct-writers @czennienet @whipped-kpop-creators @houseofincantations

It rained the day your life completely fell apart.

"Why are you crying, ' Jaehyun, the God of love himself frowned, swiping the tears that slipped down your cheeks uncontrollably.

His voice was quiet, a little above what you call a whisper. It blended softly with the harmony of crashing waves and you wondered if he even spoke at all. Perhaps or, the brewing storm was playing with your imagination- just like the immortal deity did with your heart.

You knew it was all a game, a sham. But you still danced to the tunes he played, let his charming smile eviscerate you as whole. You let him drive you mad, just enough to cross the line your Guardian Deity, your mother and sisters had set for you.

You fell in love. With a God.

Frustrated, deceived, words burst out in a huff of air, pulled from your lungs desperately like someone had shoved their hand in your throat and ripped it apart.

"Because you don't love me back,' you cried, your body wracked as if it were in great pain.

His hand stroked a strand of hair back from your face, his fingers fighting to push the idle strands from the harsh gull.

You looked up at him, his fine features, too precious to be true. Eyes welling, vision blurred. He shook his head slowly, concern pulling at his brow, but smiling nonetheless- he pulled you into his warm chest.

You took in his scent, a blend of ambrosia and rain on soil. Your tears seeped through his clothing, soaking it wet before the rain could.

The size of him was enough to block out the first drops of rain that had begun to fall, turning the sand a mottled brown. His skin was warm but hollow. Holding him didn't feel like a reality anymore- you felt like you were hugging him in your dreams.

Feeling the soft kiss on the crown of your head, you find the courage to wrap your arms around the god and pretend, for a moment, that he loved you back as whole.

"Oh silly, silly girl."

His voice was so kind, so gentle despite his words, that felt like pieces of glass shards wounding your heart.

"Of course, I don't. Pretty girl. I can't..." he whispered.

Lightning cracked and the hard rain began its descent. The water was startling cold and you finch as you held him tighter as his glowering form lighter and softer.

His form continued to fade despite the desperate cries, until you found yourself clutching the violent air. Until he really was a dream, and the seashell that you clutched in your red, sandy fist was all you would ever have left of him.

130 notes · View notes

armysantiny · 3 years ago

Text

Shifting Appearance pt.1 - PJS

P: Jisung x male reader - NCT Dream | G: fluff, angst, supernatural au | Inc: vampire!reader, shifter!Jisung, college au, supernatural au, Jeongin mention, Chenle mention, Shownu mention (Prof. Sohn) blood, blood bags, tutoring, working in a restaurant, ‘Auntie Yang’, wolfsbane, Jisung shifting into a hamster and wolf. | Wc: 4.37k | W: vampire, blood, blood drinking, drugging, wolfsbane, lmk if I should add more! | R: 15

Summary: Y/n knew there was something different about his classmate. He didn’t have the same scent as the other humans in class. After a large macchiato-sized dose of wolfsbane enters the vampire’s system, y/n can’t control his urges, and Jisung has no choice but to shift to show the vampire the truth.

Minnie’s notes: So this was supposed to be finished for Halloween, but hushh it’s here now- (Part of the NeoCreatures Collab!)

The first year of university was never going to be simple, y/n knew that much. But being the only vampire you knew in your class was definitely not going to be easy. Y/n was going to have to find a way to survive the next three years, otherwise he’d be in for a hard time. Perhaps it was just his luck, but the first few days had gone better than he thought, and the pureblood had little problem dealing with the overwhelming scent of humans surrounding him. Popping a blood supplement pill as he made his way to his first class of the day, the vampire walked through the doors, sitting at his desk as usual. Reaching for his notebook, a tap at his shoulder grabbed the ‘21’-year-old’s attention.

“Jeongin? What is it?”

“Chenle said someone transferred to our course, I think he’s in our class!” The brunet sitting behind y/n answered, his enthusiasm not going unnoticed by y/n. With an amused chuckle, y/n nodded along, thanking his classmate for the heads-up before class started. It was still early in the school year, and it was of no surprise that some students were changing their majors. At least to y/n, it was a better time than any to reconsider majors; there was still plenty of time to catch up on content.

His pencil leaving traces of graphite as he aimlessly doodled, y/n waited for his professor to walk in the lecture hall, drowning the sound of the hundred or so other students talking amongst themselves with his Bluetooth earbuds. Whether his heightened senses were a blessing or a curse was still debatable, because the vampire could still hear most of the chit-chat through his music. When the lecture door finally reopened and the professor entered, y/n exhaled - but not before furrowing his brows as something unfamiliar filled the air. The scent caught y/n’s attention before he saw a second person walk through the doors, backpack hanging awkwardly from his shoulders. Intrigued, y/n slowly removed his earbuds and turned them off, his eyes remaining focused on the new face in the hall.

Listening to the new face introduce himself to the class, y/n found himself studying his features. ‘Park Jisung...?’ His eyes followed Jisung as the new student found his seat, to which y/n promptly returned to listening to what was being said. He’d figure out why Jisung’s scent was different another time.

Exiting the lecture hall when the class had drawn to a close, the vampire was a foot out of the door when his name was called. Turning his head, he pulled out an earbud, his eyes widened in a silent question.

“Y/n? Can you come here for a moment?”

“Oh - sure, what is it Mr Sohn?” Walking over to his Professor’s desk, y/n furrowed his brows as he was handed study material from the past month; he’d already received them, why was he being handed them again? “Can I ask what these are for?”

Professor Sohn got out of his seat, walking around and in between his two students, the biology professor placed his hands on y/n’s and Jisung’s back, an optimistic smile that was not shared by the two students. A dramatic sigh when he observed their faces, the older male shook his head.

“Enough with the long faces, you two. Y/n, you and I both know you’re one of the highest achievers in this course, and Jisung here needs to catch up on the content. Who better to help?”

Before y/n could respond with a list of classmates he saw as better suited to tutoring Jisung, the pair were shooed out of the lecture hall. Massaging the bridge of his nose, y/n straightened the stack of sheets against his knee before turning to Jisung - who by the looks of it, wasn’t particularly interested in the arrangement either. He could catch up just fine by himself, why bother another student?

“Y/n, I-”

“Oh yeah- I’m your hyung. I’m 21” Y/n chimed, correcting the slightly younger male.

“Oh, of course- y/n hyung, I know Professor Sohn wants you to help me, but you don’t have to, really; I’m pretty good at catching up.” Jisung explained, an apologetic tone dressing his words. And his claim wasn’t wrong; the 19-year-old could manage pretty well on his own - it was how he could study for his entrance exam a year prior. Whether it was sheer awkwardness or not being able to find the right words, the vampire cleared his throat, reaching for his phone.

“Good. In any case, you’ll need my phone number. Give me your phone for a sec- '' Not waiting for Jisung to react and taking the phone out of the brunet’s hand, y/n called his number, handing Jisung’s phone back. Said male was speechless during the one-sided exchange, watching y/n with an almost frightened deer-like appearance in his eyes. Snapping back to reality, Jisung took his phone back, putting it in his pocket and making a mental note to save y/n’s number when he had the chance. As he watched the older student walk down the hallway, Jisung couldn’t help but think there was something different about y/n. The shifter knew he wasn’t entirely human, but was there a chance that he wasn’t alone? That y/n wasn’t human either?

Lunch break had just rolled around when y/n found himself looking through his bag, a blood bag nowhere to be found. Exhaling in frustration when the brunet realised he had forgotten to pack one, y/n excused himself from the lunch table he shared with Chenle, Jeongin and Beomgyu. Leaving with the excuse that he needed to find a book he required for his afternoon seminar, y/n waved his little group of friends off as he rushed back to his apartment. Walking to the table not long after y/n had just passed him, Jisung took a seat and set his lunch down, visibly confused. Vaguely pointing in the direction y/n had left in, it was silent until Jeongin had caught on to what the youngest of the three present at the table was asking.

“Oh y/n hyung? He said he forgot a book for his seminar, he’ll be back in a few minutes, he’s a fast runner.” Jeongin explained, his eye-smile standing out to Jisung. It was cute. Almost fox-like. If the younger student didn’t know any better, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch if he thought Jeongin was a nine-tailed fox. He’d seen them before, just never spoken to any. The rest of lunch went by pretty much interrupted, the three getting to know each other better while they told stories of class incidents.

Within the walls of y/n’s apartment, the vampire found himself looking through the mini-fridge in his room, sighing in relief when he got his hands on a blood bag. He’d already started to feel the beginnings of his cravings seep through; the mirror he passed gave a perfect image of the red in his eyes starting to appear, little droplets of red among the hazel. A satisfied sigh falling from his lips once the blood landed on his tongue, y/n wasted no time in downing his meal, throwing away the now empty blood bag in the bin. Grabbing a book from his extra class – film study �� y/n left his room, checking the hallways for activity before allowing himself to run at full speed from his apartment to the university cafeteria.

“You two didn’t miss me too much, did you~?” Y/n asked as he found his table again, taking a seat. Only that the scent was back, which meant one thing; Jisung was there. Looking slightly to Chenle’s left, y/n tilted his head in confusion. “Jisung? When did you get here?”

“Literally after you ran off to get your book hyung, anyway – how did Jisung get your number so fast?” Leaning forward as he questioned the older male, Chenle tilted his head, interested in how y/n had willingly given his number away so quickly. It took Jeongin and Chenle two months between them for y/n to even consider giving them his number, how Jisung had already obtained the elusive phone number was a mystery.

“Don’t let your imagination run wild, Zhong Chenle, Professor Sohn just wants me to help him catch up on last month’s content.” The explanation really was as simple as that. He was supposed to help Jisung. Nothing more. Nothing less. Holding his gaze on y/n with the expectation of more, Chenle sunk back into his seat with a dramatic sigh, a dissatisfied expression playing out on his face. Amused giggles and snickers coming from the other three sat at the table, Jisung pet Chenle’s shoulder, an innocent smile on his face.

“Awe Chenle~ how long did it take you and Jeongin hyung to get y/n hyung’s number?”

“A month and a half,” pointing his spoon in Jeongin’s direction, he continued, “this one got it in two weeks-”

“Because he’s not as much of a demon child as you are.” Y/n interrupted, an overly sweet smile on his face. Unamused, Chenle rolled his eyes. “Love you too Chenle~”

“Wait, how come you don’t call Chenle ‘hyung’?” Jeongin piped in, asking his question as soon as he realised that the fellow 01’ liner wasn’t addressed using the same honorifics that he was. An equally curious expression was replicated on y/n’s face, his mind asking the same question.

“I’ve known the kid since I was twelve,” Chenle answered, turning to Jisung for a moment, “he stopped calling me hyung after he was fifteen. I’m used to it.”

Well that explained that then.

As the last of the classes for the day were wrapped up, y/n reached for Bluetooth earbuds, hoping to focus on nothing else but getting back to the comfort of his home and an hour-long nap. Well deserved, he felt. But increasingly quickening footsteps heading in his direction and that scent quickly put a stop to that plan. With a deep exhale, y/n put the earbuds back in their case, turning his head and being met with an excitable Jisung. Crossing his arms in a mix of impatience and amusement, y/n watched as Jisung finally caught up with him, panting as he caught his breath.

“Hyu- ahh – hyung! Are you going home?” The 19-year-old asked, having finally caught his breath. Jisung had been running the second he saw his hyung exit the campus – from another building block.

“I was planning to, yes. Why, what is it?”

“I was gonna ask if you could help me get started with the work for this course? Just for a few minutes-! I’ll be fine afterwards, promise~” Jisung pleaded, his hands clasped together, his eyes resembling those of a deer calf. For a moment y/n thought he was looking at the anthropomorphic incarnation of Bambi. Eager to get back to his apartment, y/n sighed as he looked at his watch, going through as many pros and cons as he could. But he was a sucker for the pleading eyes look. A true Tsundere, as one would say. Avoiding looking Jisung directly, the elder of the two muttered under his breath, sure that Jisung could hear him. Jisung clearly wasn’t human, in any case.

“Follow me.”

And Jisung did hear him. Obediently following behind y/n as he was led into the older student’s apartment, and subsequently his room. There was something that the shapeshifter couldn’t place when he set foot in y/n’s room. Everything smelt like iron; metallic, sharp and well – like blood. What would a biology student need blood for? It wasn’t like they needed any for the course…

Unless...? No, he couldn’t be…could he?

Pushing the thought to the side as he set his shoes to the side and watched y/n bring the study materials out of his bag, Jisung took a seat on the chair by y/n’s window, his fingers drumming against his lap out of habit. No matter how he put it, there was something about being in the older student’s room that made him feel small. Almost mouse-like. The drumming against his leg speeding up, Jisung went through his options; shapeshift right there and have y/n see him, find a way to stay there and shapeshift without y/n noticing, or, make an excuse to return to his own apartment.

“Y/n hyung...? Can I use your bathroom quickly? I got some ink on my hands earlier.”

“Go ahead, I’ll wait here.” Taking a seat on his bed, y/n scrolled through his phone, uninterested comments while he waited for Jisung.

Jisung’s breath quickened as he shut the bathroom door behind him, his back leaning against the wood as he slid down to his knees, his heartrate accelerating by each passing moment. Hands trembling, he shut his eyes as he allowed himself to shift. The process was more or less immediate, and the student’s large frame was replaced by that of a brown mouse, drowned in clothes almost ten times larger than he was. The little mouse – which also happened to be Jisung - finally pulled himself out of the clothes, looking around the bathroom. Everything looked much larger, much more foreboding in scale than it was mere minutes ago. Scouring the bathroom floor for a while to work off his agitation, seconds felt like hours as the mouse kept himself busy, unaware that his shifting had alerted the other male on the other side of the door.

Y/n had been busying himself – at least mentally – on what the unfamiliar scent was, scrolling through his phone as a distraction. It was the moment the scent changed to that of a mouse that the vampire sat up straight, confusion etched on his face as he tried putting the ‘information’ he already had together. He wasn’t dealing with a- was he? It couldn’t be; he was just imagining things, wasn’t he? In any case, he was meant to be helping the younger male catch up with content, and y/n wasn’t looking to be caught out by his cravings. Searching under his bed for his stash of emergency supplies, y/n sighed in relief when his blood supplement pills hadn’t run out. Swallowing down too and throwing the box back under his bed, y/n rushed to resume his earlier position when he heard the bathroom door open again.

“Well, you took your time. Ready to start now?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah, I’m ready.” Joining y/n at the desk when said older male’s question finally registered, Jisung prayed to whatever higher being was currently listening that his little shift in the bathroom wasn’t too obvious. Y/n didn’t seem to notice anything, and as far as reactions went, Jisung was satisfied with that. As the older of the two began explaining and running through the content Jisung needed to catch up on, y/n was pleasantly surprised when his unofficial tutor student really was picking up on the content quickly; this was going to be easier than he thought.

Two hours passing by as a blur, the pair cleared up their workspace, notebooks and stationery returned to their original positions. With nothing else left to say between them, an awkward silence fell upon the apartment, neither male knowing exactly what else to say to each other. An incomplete hug from Jisung was met by y/n’s now closing hand and the pair coughed, each staring into nothing as the atmosphere only got more awkward. Exhaling, y/n braved the mental barrier and walked Jisung to the door, a smile – that looked more like he was in pain than anything else – accompanying his features. The second the 19-year-old was out the door and the door was closed, y/n groaned, heading towards his bed and planting face-first. How was he supposed to help his classmate catch up with the rest of the material if they were that awkward with each other? Staying like that for a moment longer, the vampire shot up, suddenly thirsty all over again.

“I need a drink.”

The moonlight shining above as y/n walked back from the bar, the Bloody Marys from an hour previously leaving a pleasant buzz that didn’t feel overpowering, the vampire kept his hands in his pockets and minded his own business. Empty streets at midnight were peaceful; a place to unwind without fear of unwanted recognition. There was no need to hide his vampiric traits, and the faint scent of the supernatural population of Seoul was stronger. His people came out to play at night, everyone knew that.

While most of his neighbours had long been asleep, there was still one soul awake in the midst of the Seoul cityscape. Park Jisung. A movie on screen as he bundled under his blanket, the shapeshifter let himself get absorbed into the vampire film on screen, muttering under his breath about the discrepancies he was aware of. The last time he had met a vampire – as a child – they had no problem walking out in the sunlight, nor did crosses have an effect. In fact, a lot of the vampires he met as a child were religious themselves. Humans always did have strange ideas about the supernatural.

Washing off the facial wash that morning, y/n ran his hand through his hair, observing his features. Okay perhaps he needed a few more hours of sleep. Raccoon eyes were not the best of looks for a morning breakfast at his local noodle restaurant. The ahjumma – y/n had affectionately started calling Auntie Yang after a while - who owned the restaurant had taken a fondness to the vampire when he first arrived in town, giving him a place to stay while he searched for his own apartment, and y/n found himself visiting regularly.

Clothed picked out and changed into, y/n grabbed his satchel, heading out into town. The walk wasn’t long, but just enough that the brunet got to fully enjoy the gentle summer breeze. Hands in his pocket, a pleased smile found its way onto his face when the noodle shop came into view. The time just passing 7 am, it was no wonder that Auntie Yang was still setting up. The chimes ringing as he pushed open the doors, y/n grinned as he bowed, already met by the presence of Auntie Yang walking towards him.

“Ah, y/n-ah! Back for breakfast, are we?” A motherly hold on y/n’s shoulder as she walked him to a table, Auntie Yang took the student’s bag, hanging it up behind the counter. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten your regular order~”

“Thank you so much Auntie.”

Long after breakfast was finished, y/n spent the rest of his free time helping Auntie Yang in the kitchen, the two making pleasant conversation as they worked. The kitchen of the noodle restaurant was warm, familiar and somewhere y/n could relax from constantly hiding his more, vampire-like, features. Rhythmically slicing away at the ingredients, his hands stopped when the sound of the restaurant door opening reached his ears. The restaurant wasn’t due to open until 10 that morning, and when y/n took a peek at the clock, it had only just passed 9 am.

“Auntie! I’m here!” Wasn’t that Jeongin? Eyes wide as he ran out of sight to make sure he wasn’t spotted while still looking very much not-human, y/n exhaled when Auntie Yang left the kitchen to greet the familiar boy. Assured he looked more or less normal, the vampire made his way to the front-of-house.

“Y/n hyung? Do you work here?” Jeongin asked, brows raised in surprise. He hadn’t expected to see y/n in his aunt’s restaurant, nor in an apron reserved for the few kitchen staff he knew his aunt had hired. Confused, y/n looked between his younger friend and Auntie Yang, the connection only making itself obvious when he thought about it again for more than just a moment. Of course, they were related. Yang Jeongin. Internally wanting to hit himself over the head, the vampire shook his head, a relaxed grin on his face.

“No, not really. I just help out in the morning. I haven’t got classes until this afternoon, so I’m keeping myself busy. Where’s the devil child?” Feigning innocence when Auntie Yang lightly hit his shoulder with a giggle, y/n shrugged, hands raised. “What? I’m not wrong!”

Making notes as his afternoon classes were underway, y/n sipped on the iced macchiato in front of him, his mind in two places. Although a good few days had passed since Jisung was in his apartment, the thought of the younger student being not-human had been turning around in the back of his subconscious. And finding thin traces of mouse hair when he returned home the previous night (read: 3 am that same day-) added onto the pile of evidence he had locked away in his conscious mental filing cabinet. Film Studies was one of two extra-curricular subject’s y/n took alone, away from the company of either Chenle or Jeongin, and seemingly happened to be the escape the 21-year-old student needed from the pressure that was an undergraduate biology degree. Letting the minutes tick by as he zoned off, y/n was dragged back into the throws of reality that was the end of another lecture. Packing away in relative silence after answering general small-talk questions from his classmates (of which he didn’t bother to learn the names of), y/n picked up his phone, an unread text coming from Jisung that must have been left while he let his mind wander. Unlocking the device, y/n opened his messages, the first of what he assumed would be many.

Possible non-human child: hyung, can you meet me in the student café?

Y/n: Sure, I’ll be there in a sec. I just finished class. Did you need something?

Possible non-human child: I wanted to quickly go over something!

Possible non-human child is typing

Possible non-human child: and something else…

Turning his phone off before he could have seen the message, y/n was out of the lecture hall and on his way to the student café, mind drowning out the sound of all kinds of chatter coming from within arm’s reach to at least five feet away from him with his music playlist. Stopping only briefly for a short conversation with one of the seniors in his course, y/n made it to the student café in relatively good time, finding the younger male not too far away from the café entrance.

“Hyung, you came!” Handing over the second drink on the table to y/n as he sat down, Jisung continued. “Here, I got you an iced macchiato, Chenle said you drink one after every class.”

“I do, do that,” y/n confirmed, accepting the drink as he thought back to just how often he dulled his cravings with iced coffee. Granted Chenle was observant, but it did start to look like an obsession to the caffeinated drink. “You wanted to go over something, didn’t you? I haven’t got anything until at least six in the evening, so take your time.”

Jisung didn’t need to go over anything. He’d already checked in with Mr Sohn, and he had more or less caught up with the rest of his class. He just needed time. Time to figure out whether his hunch about y/n was correct. Listening to the older male explain, Jisung watched with a twinge of guilt as he watched y/n sip the drink, wolfsbane essence already added before the vampire had reached the café. Yes, it was wrong; he was drugging y/n, but Jisung was desperate to find out. Eyes wide in panic when y/n downed the drink much faster than the shifter had expected, Jisung gulped, praying y/n wouldn’t be angry when the poison wore off.

And then it started.

Frantically trying to regulate his breathing as his heart began to palpitate, y/n stared at Jisung, unaware of the red in his eyes making a full appearance. If his senses weren’t already enhanced, they were on steroids. Grabbing his chest in vain, y/n stood up shaking, excusing himself and running out of the café – at such unhuman speed the vampire was lucky only Jisung had noticed. Leaving his own unfinished drink at the table, Jisung scrambled after the older student, unaware of – or simply ignoring – the growing urge in his chest to shift into something protective. Now he was certain of y/n’s identity, Jisung needed to get y/n somewhere safe; for his and other’s safety.

Blood. Fresh blood. Completely at the mercy at his most basic of vampiric instincts, y/n dropped to his knees in the back of an alley close to his apartment, his legs giving out as the last remnants of his humanity pulled him away from any potential victims. Trembling as the vampire was left with nothing but the sound of multiple upon multiple beating hearts surrounding him, the sheer scale overwhelming. Backed into the brick wall behind him, y/n’s conscious could only take a back seat as the vampire lunged at the first living being within 5 metres.

That living being namely being Park Jisung.

“Hyung-! Let – let go!” Grappling with the much stronger male in front of him, Jisung would be a dirty liar if he tried telling himself that he wasn’t afraid. He was frightened. There he was, fighting off a drugged vampire – granted, that part was his fault – from biting him and likely draining him dry. “Please-! Look at me!”

Taking several deep breaths as the strands of his conscious pulled him off of Jisung, y/n did as the younger boy requested, watching with shaky eyes as the brunet shifted in front of him, a large grey wolf replacing the spot where Jisung had been standing only minutes before. Unable to refute as the wolf (read: Jisung) pulled him onto its back, y/n’s conscious slipped away as he was taken home through backstreets and avenues, warm late-afternoon-turned-evening hues leaving a 5 o’clock shadow of the shifter and vampire.

“Where…where am I?” Y/n muttered, his eyes finally awaking to unfamiliar surroundings, a throbbing migraine as he tried to sit up. Freezing in place as his eyes met a sleeping wolf on the floor (of what he assumed was a bedroom), the vampire could only stare, as the wolf in front of him was replaced with an all too familiar figure.

“Park Jisung…?”

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpclub, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw @k-library, @knet-bakery, @houseofincantations, @hotpink-ent, @nct-writers, @neoturtles, @nctcreations, @kokonomi, @nct-frathouse, @pretty-neos

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Considering leaving some feedback, or donating to my ko-fi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @intokook, @mikailo666, @sunoosmoon, @spoopy-babyboobean| Taglist Form

54 notes · View notes

sichengtual · 3 years ago

Text

baby, i'm yours | jh. s

— summary: johnny might still not know much about life on earth, but he knows one thing: you're what makes it worth it.

— pairing: johnny suh x reader.

— genre: fluff; demon!johnny, wizard!reader, magic café, part of the love potion universe!

— word count: 1,439 (1.4k)

— warnings: none.

— song: just like heaven — the cure.

— a/n: a gift for the bestest bestie ever, @svtxsoju! i'm proud of you today, tomorrow, and every single day for the rest of time! 💞

There are a million things that Johnny loves about life on earth. They’re so many, he can’t even begin to count them with his fingers.

Sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s tired after a long day of work, he looks up at his ceiling and tries to think of them as bullet points inside his mind: the way the sunlight seeps in through the big windows of the café every morning, breaking past the curtains and reflecting upon the delicate leaves of the hundreds of plants he’s set to tend to day by day. Your laugh whenever Lucas tells a dumb joke, traveling through the space and into his ears, coming inside his head as the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. The calmness and steadiness of a Sunday morning spent in bed. Your voice on the other side of the phone. The foam that collects at the top of his freshly-brewed morning coffee. The warmth of your body on his skin when you accidentally bump into him while walking past.

Johnny has known, from the very first time he saw you, that he’s in love with you. He had been brought down by accident, a failed spell from Kunhang’s book summoning him right as he was about a chess match against Jaehyun, one of his best friends. In the days he had arrived on earth, he still couldn’t believe such a clueless wizard could have summoned him, a powerful demon, without even meaning to, but once he met you, he started wondering if maybe fate had played a part.

He’d always found it funny — a demon, believing in fate? He’d believe in anything as long as anything meant you.

“It’s good the weather kind of picked up,” you say as you walk up the steps that lead to the rooftop. “If you had planned on taking me out there in the rain, I think I would have asked Kunhang to brew you a duck transformation potion.”

Johnny gasps, (harshly and loudly) slapping a hand to his chest. He’s walking right behind you, and you can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your neck.

“Quack,” Johnny breathes out, giggling.

It had been completely unexpected; Friday night, you had been drinking a cup of peach-infused tea as Lucas and Johnny set to clean up the kitchen after a long day, when the latter had held your hand and walked off with you following behind. He kept saying he had a surprise prepared for you, something to celebrate the news you had just received a little earlier, and although he wouldn’t budge in telling you what it was, his freshly ironed black button-up gave you an important clue.

“You should have told me I had to dress up nice,” you say, breathing out a little more relaxed once you’re able to see the door leading to the rooftop up ahead. “I’m in jeans!”

“I’m also in jeans, baby,” Johnny laughs. He reaches up, placing a palm on the small of your back, fishing the keys from his pocket with his free hand. “And anyway, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You don’t answer, too focused on the fact that the closer you get to the door, the more you can hear music playing faintly — except the more you walk, the louder the sound becomes. Is Johnny playing Baekhyun’s Candy?

“Now, close your eyes,” Johnny whispers as soon as you reach the last step. He leans against you to open the door, and you catch a wisp of his cologne when you hear the keys dangle loudly. “Don’t peek! It’s a surprise!”

“Johnny, we’re here already!” You say, but you oblige, closing your eyes just as Johnny twists the doorknob so you can walk outside. “Okay, just tell me when you can open them. I don’t want to bump against a wall or something.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” he whispers against your ear as he helps guide your steps. “Ivy would never forgive me… which means Kunhang would probably bewitch me when I’m showering or something.”

A gust of air meets your face as soon as you step outside. Senses are immediately overwhelmed, and you try to make sense of everything you’re feeling, but it all comes together to simply send your heart on a frenzy before Johnny can even give you the green light to finally see what his surprise is all about.

You try to piece everything together; the music playing from a speaker nearby, the sweet smell that resembles freshly-baked pastries, the city sounds rising from the back and mixing in with the music, the feeling of Johnny’s hand on your back.

“You can open your eyes now.”

And you’re not completely sure what you’re seeing is real. It’s like a scene that has just come out of a movie, or a dream, because the more you see, the more you’re convinced that what you’re seeing is romanticism brought to life. The rooftop, deeper than it is wider, is covered in multiple series of fairy lights that hang from side to side, completely illuminating the entire space. There’s a table and a couple of chairs set near one of the furthest corners, and every single centimeter next to the edges of the rooftop are all traced with tall, colorful bougainvillea bushes. Next to the table stands a bar that’s decked with food and drinks; you can’t quite make out all of the dishes and concoctions that await you, but the mix of smells that reach you don’t fail to make your mouth water.

“Johnny,” you whisper, spinning slowly to make sure you catch every single detail. A rose bouquet rests in the middle of the table, and you can feel your voice threatening to break when you begin to speak. “You did all of this?”

“Had to celebrate my baby,” he says, quickly pecking your cheek as he moves to walk in front of you. “It’s not everyday you get offered to co-own the café, is it?”

Taking your hand in his, he guides you over to the table, and the song changes to a soft Ariana Grande tune when you finally reach it.

“Still, I can’t believe you actually pulled this together, I’m just — when did you even have the time?”

“The boys helped earlier today,” Johnny winks, moving so he can pull the chair back for you to sit. He’s decided to top the surprise by being the textbook definition of a gentleman, and you don’t miss the slight smile on his face when he sits down in front of you. “You would have thought I paid them, with how excited they were setting the lights up and everything.”

“What, you didn’t pay them? Kunhang helped you for free?”

“Yeah, something about loving love, or whatever,” he waves a hand in the air. “Lucas though, he still owed me for last week’s pizza.”

“You owe me for last week’s pizza, you punk!”

“I thought the kisses made up for it!”

The world stops when you begin laughing, time hanging from your mouth in a delicate thread that threatens to break if only disturbed ever so slightly. It’s almost like earth spins solely for and because of you, its rhythm finding and matching yours. He knows his world does, at least, and that’s all he cares about.

“I’m really grateful for this, you know?” You say. “For everything. For this, for you being there, for you feeling proud of me when I don’t even know what I’m doing half of the time. All I know is you’re there, next to me, and that’s anchoring enough… even when you join Kunhang’s TikTok recordings instead of actually helping me manage the café.”

“Baby, there will never be a day where I’m not feeling proud of you. Of everything you do and everything you are. I love my life here simply because I love you being in it.”

In that moment, standing on the colorful rooftop of the café, Johnny can’t help but notice everything around him, and remember some of the things that are not. Everything that make you and him, you and him. Your smile as you look up to the sky. The sound of water bubbling up inside the kettle. The feeling of your hand on his. The smell of freshly baked raspberry pastries. The weight of your head coming to rest over his shoulder.

The sound of his beating heart, thumping loudly against his chest the moment a smile breaks upon his face.

“And come on, deep down, you know you also want to join Kunhang’s TikTok recordings.”

There are a million things that Johnny loves about life on earth. On that list, you’re always number one.

164 notes · View notes

hcuyk · 3 years ago

Text

15 | epilogue

INTERSECTION : y/n catches the football quarterback practicing for a promposal in the woods and offers to help him out

PAIRING : footballplayer!jaemin x genderneutral!reader

A/N : crazy how this series managed to end on my birthday,, i can't think of a better way to end this tbh, so i guess this is my birthday present to everyone <3

this smau has been very cliché, but i'm not mad at it considering it is my first smau

it was a short journey with all the quick updates given and how fast paced this series was, but i do hope it was worth it!! i wanted to make the epilogue about how prom went with their friends, but i figured sweet moments between the main pairing would suit this story better, so overall it's an open ended ending

thank you for all the support intersection has been given, and i am currently focusing on a new nct dream smau!! it would probably have longer updates compared to this and a more in depth storyline, so if anyone's interested, do send me an ask <3 if you are interested in the synopsis, check my nct dream masterlist ;)

i'm so sorry for making jaemin's last words in this series 'arf arf' idk what went on in my mind

TAGLIST : @kimaya2209 @remit0wn @marklexleaf @wooyoung-a @wonnieluvs @cutiiex1994 @thejungjaehyun @jaemcupcake @jaeminielovebot @markistheloveofmylife @lcvekdy @lokideadontheinside @99swinwin @flwrtbz @cookydream @nctflix @luvlyjaemin @rinrinslovebot @sunshine-skz @woniecstasy @shnchintya @ryujinnz @parkmejeon004 @13isacoolnumber @ikyk-leeknow @nilesig @t1huy @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @nycol-ie

UNABLE TO TAG : @euphorin @renjunvibes

⋆ previous — end ⋆

#INTERSECTION `` smau #ficscafe #jaemnet #kokonomi #nct dream #na jaemin #na jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin smau #jaemin timestamps #jaemin drabbles #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream drabbles #nct dream timestamps #nct dream x reader #jaemin x reader

234 notes · View notes

luvholicz · 3 years ago

Text

╰┈➤ NCT DREAM: asking the '00 line to go out to mcdonald's at 2 am

pairing. nct dream's '00 line x gn! reader, genre. smau, comedy but its not funny /hj, warnings. the k word is mentioned in jeno's segment, renjun doesnt want to feed the dreamies

¡! ❞huang renjun.

find the other members under the cut!

¡! ❞lee jeno.

¡! ❞lee donghyuck.

¡! ❞na jaemin.

126 notes · View notes

stayinzencity · 3 years ago

Text

how far we've come

Part of the Neo Future Collab!

Pairing: Ten x fem! Reader

Genre/AU: fluff, romance, angst, band au, apocalypse au, time capsule au

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, food, making out, cockroaches/bugs and their extermination, mentions of alcohol, dream/nightmare, mentions of death and the undead, no cheating and it's barely a love triangle but she has a boyfriend who isn’t Ten at one point and that causes conflict of the bromantic kind, pettiness, a bit of dark humor, non linear narrative

Synopsis: In a world that's changing in ways none of them ever imagined, Ten and his friends take a trip down memory lane.

WC: 5.6K

Inspiration: Playlist (also Club Nightmare- I might write a spinoff inspired by it one day, expanding on 'the nightmare' au)

Ten wakes up to the sound of Mariya Takeuchi’s Plastic Love and is left staring at his phone in disbelief when the ringtone cuts off right as his finger hovers over the answer button.

Nine missed calls. It’s 7’oclock and Johnny knows he doesn’t wake up before eleven on Sundays, so this better be important, or else.

When the phone lights up, Ten answers before the music even starts playing. It’s not Johnny’s voice he hears.

“Johnny says we’ll be in front of your place in fifteen minutes. Today’s the day, you know?” That’s all Doyoung says before he hangs up.

A look at the calendar is all it takes for Ten to realize that it has, in fact, been five years since that day. Wow. Ten feels old, theoretically. He can still do the splits with little to no strain, so he’s technically fine, for now.

She is not a morning person. Sure she could stick to the schedule on weekdays. Weekends and holidays though? Those are days to sleep in, stay in bed all day. Three cups of coffee is the minimum to be functional in the morning on a day like this, though the flask she holds barely qualifies as coffee and is really just warm water.

So why is she awake and outside so early on a Sunday without the comfort of caffeine?

Five years ago, Johnny had a eureka moment that led to them shoveling dirt. Fortunately, Johnny’s brilliant idea did not involve hiding a dead body. Unfortunately, there’d be more digging today.

She snatches a flyer flying around with the wind. We make your special day as special as it can be, it says. 20% discount with this flyer, it says. You dream and we plan, it says.

She is engulfed in a warm embrace, and she relaxes in the familiar scent of her fiancé, the flyer now in his grasp.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asks, amusement slipping into his voice behind the mock seriousness. There's a pause before the two of them burst into laughter.

It started with a post she saw online that got her thinking.

“Ok so this is the part where you come up with a bad idea and I go along with it because I’m amazing and I love you, right?” Ten teased.

She’d swatted at Ten for that. Failing to hide her smile at his laughter, she continued. “ You know I don’t want to get married, but I want a wedding.”

“So you want to have a fake wedding? Get fake married?”

“Exactly!” She grinned, grasping his hands. “It’ll be fun.”

“Wait seriously?” When she nodded, he thought it over. “Did you miss the news this morning? Is this the best time?”

They’d announced an asteroid was likely to crash land on the Earth, its expected impact being great enough to worry about the fate of humanity. There was a chance that its path could pass by the planet without doing any damage.

“Is any time the best? We have to make the best out of what we have.”

Doyoung did not react well to the news when he found out a week later.

They’d walked in with matching rings and said they were engaged- fake engaged.

Doyoung stared at them in disbelief, and then when he realised they weren’t kidding, he started shouting and it quickly evolved into a quarrel between Doyoung and her.

A car drives down the street, coming to a halt right before them. Johnny sticks his head out the window to tell them to get in, although his way of doing it is a little crude.

"So," she says. "Who else?"

"Taeil, Taeyong, Jungwoo." A pause. "Oh, Donghyuck decided to tag along."

She brightens up at the mention of the youngest member of NCity. "Sunny boy's going to be with us? Then this certainly counts as band bonding activities."

“You’re not our manager anymore.” Doyoung rolls his eyes at her.

She scoffs. “Yeah well, do you see Kun here?”

For the remaining duration of the car ride, the bickering between the two serves both as entertainment and annoyance for the rest.

Finally, they reach the place they’d left behind their memories and trinkets. Technically, they’re supposed to wait another five years, but with the way the world is headed, it’s hard to say how things would be next week, let alone years into the future.

The others had gotten there first, already digging at the spot.

Jungwoo runs over to the couple and pulls Ten into a hug, not letting go until she playfully accuses him of trying to steal Ten away. They laugh, and join the rest of the group in their chatter and labor.

Finally they get what they're looking for. Inside the tin box they used as their time capsule they find:

· A used spray paint can

· A photograph with all the original members of Seventh Sense

· A flyer for Mad City's performance

· A newspaper cutting

· A letter for Jungwoo

· Taeyong’s mixtape

· A sketch of apples

· A Planet of The Apes DVD

· A dead cockroach (that shouldn't be there- why the fuck is it there)

A used spray paint can:

Ten drops the empty spray paint can into his bag. Taking a few steps back, Ten's eyes flicker over the work he'd just finished spraying onto the wall that had once been covered with vulgarity, advertisement flyers, and painted political campaigns.

In Ten's opinion, graffiti cats getting a social message across seemed a better use of the wall than Park Jinyoung's name and face plastered on it or Lee Sooman Inc.'s poster on their latest advancements in AI technology.

He wasn't alone, his partner spraying the sign of their team in fluorescent green which he didn't have long to admire, the sound of sirens in the distance being their cue to flee from the site.

They take a moment to grab their stuff before she takes hold of his hand and pulls him along as they make their escape. There are shouts at them to stop which they, naturally, ignore.

Hurrying onto a busier street gives them the chance to blend into the crowd. Slipping into an alley at the side of a restaurant, they pull off their masks, caps and hoodies and shove them into their bags. Then they walk back out like they were a couple having fun on a date.

Which is why he leans into her space, close enough to place a kiss if he just moves forward a bit. It doesn’t hurt to be careful, even if Ten is pretty sure they'd lost the people pursuing them streets ago. Yep. That is why he draws closer, eyes dropping down to her lips. Just to keep their cover believable. It has nothing to do with the attraction that has been lingering in the air between them since they first met.

Ten has to admit that doesn’t sound believable even to his own ears. But it doesn’t matter. He throws away all excuses when she lunges forward and lets her lips meet his.

There was nothing shy or gentle about the way they kiss with how they skip the slow start to dive straight into the passion.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place?" Those are the most words Ten has heard from her today, and he finds himself wanting to hear more of her voice. What would it sound like when she wasn't breathless after all the exertion? Not that Ten doesn’t like how she sounds now. He does. Very much. She speaks and he focuses on the sounds over the meaning of the words. Ten just stares at her, lost in his thoughts, until she flicks his forehead.

"So I was saying," her grin makes Ten's heart beat faster. "What do you think about dinner and a movie marathon?"

"Yeah. Sure. That sounds great."

When she beams at him, Ten knows the night would be worth it. Shit. He is falling fast and hard, he knows it, and he doesn’t care. The world could end tomorrow for all they know, but tonight would be theirs, and Ten had every intention of making each moment count.

It would have been nice if he'd gotten a warning beforehand.

Overprotective flat mate trying to intimidate him into leaving was a part of the night he didn't foresee. Ten had gotten through his life so far without getting injured over his flings and relationships, something he would like to keep that way.

Fortunately, said flat mate is soon dragged away by an apologetic roommate who hands a bowl of popcorn to Ten with a kind smile.

The rest of the night is fun and the start of something, though they don’t talk about it.

A photograph with all the original members of Seventh Sense:

Yuta is the one who first brings up the idea of starting a band.

It's a Wednesday that passes by without much excitement like the week before and likely the week to follow.

Yuta is sprawled across Taeil's bed with his head hanging off the edge- which Taeil had told him to stop doing multiple times, only to be ignored- when suddenly he sits up, startling Jungwoo who rolls off the mattress onto the floor. Sicheng doesn't bother to divert attention from the book he was reading even as his friend falls close to where he is seated.

Immunity to their antics developed over time, and Sicheng had known them for years. Jungwoo was eager for excuses to be dramatic, and Yuta gave him plenty of them.

Taeil, who'd just walked back into the room after hearing the commotion, sighs and looks expectantly at Yuta, who clearly had something to say if his wide grin and sparkling eyes were any hint.

"Let's start a band."

That certainly hadn't been expected, and even Sicheng's attention is on Yuta once he makes that declaration.

Honestly, Yuta expected Sicheng to be the one who refused to participate, so it was a pleasant surprise when he’s the first to get on board with the idea. Taeil hesitates, more since he has questions than because he is against the idea. Yuta thought Jungwoo would be the most enthusiastic after him, however he's proven wrong when Jungwoo's face hardens and he walks out of the room without another word.

Taeil and Sicheng exchange a glance that suggests they knew something that Yuta didn't. Annoying information out of Sicheng was Yuta's specialty, though he doesn't have to resort to that when Taeil explains it himself.

"Remember Jungwoo had an ex when you were away? She broke up with him for the drummer of a band, and he's still bitter about it."

"So? What does that have to do with us starting a band? He needs to get over it," Yuta scoffs. "It's been months. If anything, it's even more a reason to start our band."

"Let's do it," Jungwoo announces.

"There's a chance we'll run into them. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I count on it. Yuta has a point." Determination shines in Jungwoo's eyes. "Even if he's a dick."

The problem wasn't that Yuta quit the band when bigger, better opportunities came. It was how he did it that left the rest of them fuming, in tears, or a mix of both. He sends a text in the group chat to tell them the band wasn't working for him, cuts himself out of their lives without any further explanation and when almost all of them had finally resigned to the fact they'd probably never see him again, well, that's when he shows up again.

Jungwoo notices a Yuta listed as a member of Cherry Bomb and makes a whole fuss over it for an afternoon which for most part is brushed off as a coincidence by the rest of the band.

Their Yuta couldn't be the only Yuta in the world- though it was debatable whether he could still be called their Yuta. No, no matter what they couldn't deny the memories they'd made, regardless of how Yuta had vanished from their lives so easily as if he wasn't the reason the band existed in the first place.

Except it is the Yuta that had been with them through it all, heck, he's the one who started the band- but now he's the one that left them behind for Cherry Bomb.

If any good comes out of it, it's that they write songs about broken promises and the one that got away, and it's still raw and painful and bitter, something that seeps into the songs and snatches people's attention.

Eventually, Sicheng leaves the country. At least he told them beforehand, giving them time to say goodbye. He admits that he isn't sure about staying in touch, but wishes them well, nevertheless. They hold a farewell party which in reality is just Taeil, Jungwoo and Sicheng ordering food and acting like it's just another evening, and not the last time they'll see each other in a while, or possibly ever. Unlike Yuta who they see around in magazines and on the television and on the sides of buildings, once Sicheng gets on his plane they don't hear from him again.

Jungwoo doesn't want to give up on the band. Taeil finds himself less enthusiastic about getting on stage, especially when they don't have their former friends around anymore. It doesn't feel right to him to replace Yuta and Sicheng.

For Jungwoo, it's been all about moving on from the start. He had to move on when the band started, and he'll move on now to let the band survive.

Johnny agrees to give the band a try. It's more of a favor to Taeil than anything, but it makes Jungwoo happy to see Taeil trying. When Johnny brings Ten along, Jungwoo's smile widens further. They'd shown up, and Jungwoo wasn't going to let them go so easily.

A flyer for Mad City's performance:

"So, you still don't know her name?"

Johnny's brow raises, unimpressed. Well, perhaps he is a tad impressed with the absurdity of what Ten's narrating.

They'd somehow skipped over the introductions and gone straight to whatever they were doing now, Ten and her. And it'd be weird to go, "Hey, so what's your name? I never asked before, haha." It'd been days since they'd first met. To not know the name of the person you spend most of your time with shouldn't be possible, yet Ten had managed to do just that.

"Well fuck," Johnny exclaims as he realises Ten isn't joking. "You know where she lives, for fuck's sake. How do you know everything about her besides her name?"

"In my defense, we used nicknames from the start. I didn't think it'd get serious, so I didn't bother to ask, you know. But then it did get serious. So yeah." Ten scratches his neck. "Everyone uses nicknames with her, so that's no help in finding out."

Johnny pats him on the back. "I'm sure you'll find out eventually. Or you'll break up and it won't even matter."

Ten tries to bite Johnny's hand for that.

"Well I think it's time I properly introduced myself, " she says before giving him her name and revealing her job- or well, one of them. "Manager of Mad City."

Mad City. The Seventh Sense’s rival. That made her the enemy. This was a forbidden romance. They were star-crossed lovers. Ten was going to get in trouble for fraternizing with the enemy. No wonder she lived with half of Mad City. That should have raised suspicion.

"No way." Ten is not ready for this. Shit. "Are we going to break up?"

She just laughs with her arms still wrapped around him. "Is that what you want?"

Ten shakes his head. "No. I like you too much to let you go so easily."

Satisfied, she kisses him. This time it was soft and short, though a promise of more lay behind it.

Except Ten gets busy with the band and his art and his dance classes, and she drifts away too. It's a while before they meet again, and things change.

A newspaper cutting:

It starts with news that the dead weren’t staying dead. People weren’t rising from ancient graves or anything. But the recent death reports were a mess with people’s bodies somehow repairing themselves and recovering like they hadn’t undergone fatal injury. Even so, there were limits- ashes could not piece back together.

“It’s something in the air,” Doyoung says. “Mutagens. Genetic mutations. We’ve evolved.”

He was the only one who’d finished college with a STEM degree, so the rest of them are inclined to believe he had an idea of what he is talking about- but his theories are boring and technical and no one actually listens past three sentences.

“Let’s say I drive a knife through someone.” Everyone knows who Jungwoo has on his mind. “They’ll recover like it never happened. Would I still get in trouble?”

“Jungwoo!” Taeyong turns to glare at him, disappointed. “No.”

“He’ll be fine though. Probably. Just once?”

“You cannot stab Ten,” says Taeil. He rubs his forehead, he needs more caffeine to deal with all of this. “No one is stabbing anyone.”

A letter:

She hasn’t been anywhere near alcohol. That doesn’t stop her from giggling as she takes the seat next to Ten, "I swear I'm not drunk."

He picks out the fruit from his sundae and carefully arranges it on her plate. "I know." Sometimes she acted like she was when excitement coursed through her. It was kind of cute, kind of annoying.

Annoyingly cute. That summed up what Ten thought of her.

She was quiet and shy, until she was yelling in Ten's ears and animatedly telling him about how they could take over the world.

The first time he'd met her was at a party as a friend of a friend of a friend, and it'd been so brief they'd exchanged no words, let alone their names. She'd rushed away, Ten's gaze following her until she was out of sight, and since then he'd been trying to get her out of mind.

Except he ran into her again, that next time with paint and adrenaline. And then she'd wormed her way into his life as she already had with his heart.

There's a period where they didn’t have as much contact, and while he didn't see anyone else, she didn’t wait for him.

"I have a boyfriend," Y/N says one day in a voice that suggests she regretted it. Or maybe that is just Ten's wishful thinking. After a pause she adds, “You know him.”

Well, fuck.

She doesn't reveal who it is. Ten doesn't probe any further. He isn't sure if he wants to know. He did, he didn’t.

And one day there she is with Jungwoo’s arm around her, snuggled into his side. Jungwoo meets his eyes and turns up his smugness. Ten is a nice person, or he would give in to the temptation to rip Jungwoo away from her.

She finally notices him, and they just stare at each other for a while. Jungwoo has to nudge her, his smile fading. This brings Ten satisfaction.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Ten says back.

“Hey,” Jungwoo says. Because of fucking course Jungwoo cannot be left out of a conversation even when it is smaller than small talk.

Sometimes Ten wonders if he’s too harsh on Jungwoo. He gets close to admitting his jealousy colors his opinion of Jungwoo. But then Jungwoo opens his mouth or does something stupid and Ten knows he wasn’t wrong when called Jungwoo all those names at 3 AM last Saturday.

Afraid of the answer, Ten asks anyway. “Do you love him?”

Ten expected her to take a moment to think about it. Yet there’s no hesitation as she immediately says, “No.” Her hand flies to her mouth and she looks like she wants to take it back, but it’s too late and now Ten knows he hasn’t been imagining it.

Knowing she doesn’t want to dive into this, not now, not with him, Ten starts talking about his latest art project.

It isn't long before Jungwoo and her break up.

She calls Jungwoo out for coffee, they talk it over and it's a pretty anticlimactic end to their short relationship. They decide to stay friends, although they agree it might take a while before the awkwardness entirely dissipates. Before they leave the shop, she holds out a letter, which he takes with curiosity.

“A parting gift?” She grins.

Jungwoo smiles back.

As much as he harbors dislike for Jungwoo, he isn’t the worst and Ten is decent enough to feel guilty. Ten knows Jungwoo and her had been falling apart even before he came into the picture. Yet there was a chance they could have reconciled if he didn’t show up and find a place in her heart. Ten was no homewrecker, and they hadn’t cheated. But maybe he’d pushed along the process of breaking up that would have been prolonged without his presence.

Jungwoo is quick to reassure her that he doesn't hold a grudge against her. Both of them knew their relationship wasn't meant to be, they just couldn't bring it to an end. Until Ten came along as the perfect excuse.

They hadn't been in love. Besides, this wasn't Jungwoo's first break up. Barely even counted as a heartbreak.

But he did care about Ten. They were supposed to be bandmates, best friends, bros. Ten was all supportive, then he stole her heart. So maybe Ten had met her first, and there hadn't been any cheating, but Jungwoo felt bitter and betrayed and needed someone to blame, and Ten was taking the brunt of it. It was easy to put the blame on Ten and bitch about him. Jungwoo is aware he's being unreasonably petty, but it makes him feel better. Eventually, he'd make up with Ten and they could go back to their old ways, but for now they were enemies.

Ten loses Jungwoo, but Ten has her.

She kisses him desperate and deep, as though they have no time left and this might be their last chance. Ten wonders if this is what Jungwoo felt before they broke up. Maybe these were the signs that Jungwoo saw and acted like he didn't notice, the way Ten was doing now.

A mixtape:

Apparently they wanted to ban music after the riots that they blamed on the rebellious music. At any rate, censorship laws were going to be stricter. Freedom of speech was being taken away one step at a time. AI existed for the purpose of music and entertainment, slowly replacing their human counterparts.

Ten wasn’t going to stop creating music, and Taeyong was already busy working on their new song. Donghyuck had only been motivated by the news. As for Doyoung, he thought it was more trouble than worth. Surprisingly, Jungwoo had volunteered to take his place. Taeil, Jaehyun and Johnny voiced their support though they still didn’t want to go on stage or in front of the camera.

Johnny takes off the headphones, leaning back in his chair as he gives his opinion on Taeyong’s latest track. “It sounds awfully similar to that song from the 2010’s. Remember what happened last time we released a song like that?”

It was kind of scary how so much had changed in such a short time.

AI music wasn’t supposed to take away from human made music. Yet it did. AI idols and bands could do what humans could and more. Sure, the AI revolution had brought plenty of positive advancement to society. It had its downsides too.

Like how they were essentially useless in a world that didn’t want them with their imperfections when they could have the perfect idealised versions. Besides, those who sought human music had centuries worth of music to listen to already.

Was that going to stop Taeyong?

Of course not.

"Listen to this one." Taeyong leans over to click on a different file. "I'm still working on it, but-"

Johnny's already listening to it, and from his expressions he seems to enjoy it more than the previous one. Taeyong smiles to himself, satisfied.

A sketch of apples:

She loved apples so much that she couldn't go a day without them. Doyoung had said it was her obsession, pointing out how she had decorated her room with apple themed memorabilia. Snow White, he called her. She'd retorted that it meant he was one of the dwarves. Jungwoo would call her Snow, while she'd call him Rose.

Ten thought she was straight out of a fairytale. What he'd forgotten was that Grimm Brothers' fairy tales were far more gruesome than the stories he remembered.

"If you had to give up on singing or dancing forever, which would you choose?" The question she asked Ten had been innocent enough. He hadn't known how damning it would be. "Which loss would haunt you greater?"

Her voice had suddenly turned serious, smile abandoned. He'd laughed it off, and changed the topic. It had been a bit strange, but nothing that would keep him awake at night.

The next day she’d vanished, taking a piece of Ten with her.

It had seemed like a normal day until they found Ten eating apples, almost as if it were an addiction. Like clockwork, a crunch could be heard every hour. Never more than a single bite. There was a bin filled to the brim with apples each day.

It wouldn't have been as worrying if Ten had been a person who enjoyed fruit. Yet he'd stayed away from fruits. Until now.

Ten didn't speak, simply staring into the distance, only taking a break when he needed to bite into an apple every hour. Breaking him out of the trance hadn't worked, so they'd taken to watching him in shifts.

There was no doubt that it had something to do with Y/N and her disappearance since that night they'd gone out together and Ten had returned alone.

Sicheng was convinced Ten was possessed and insisted on calling his exorcist friend. Taeil had taken one look at Ten's state, handed Jungwoo a business card and hastily walked out the door of the flat, muttering about cats and poisoned apples and curses.

No matter how many times they turned the card around, it had nothing but Club Nightmare embossed in gold on its sleek crimson surface.

Taeil said the club had the answers they sought but also begged them not to go seeking that place. As a last resort, if they had nothing left to lose- only then should they even think about it. According to Taeil, if anyone might be able to help, it would be Yuta .

Once Yuta had been generous and would offer help without even being asked, especially to old friends. Time had taken its toll on him though, turning him into a self-serving person who'd do anything to survive. Which meant his assistance came at a price.

"A favor for later," Yuta said with a shrug and smile that sent chills up Jungwoo’s spine. "That's all I ask."

Hidden behind Yuta's lies and tall tales were invaluable snippets of information. If that could help Ten, then they'd have to trust Yuta.

And that’s when Jungwoo had woken up.

In his dreams, Ten hadn't been the prince or the huntsman or a dwarf- he'd been the villain. And like the evil queen danced to her death in her hot red shoes, dancing had been Ten's undoing as well. At least in Jungwoo's mind it seemed fitting after all that had happened.

But lately Jungwoo had been helping Ten recover from heartbreak and curses and danger. The thing was, Jungwoo didn’t mind much anymore.

In his dreams, he had moved on and put his friendship with Ten first. Maybe it was time to do the same in real life.

A Planet of The Apes DVD:

The end of the world should have been more worrisome, but there'd been so many close calls already that the words had lost their threat.

The apocalypse news really shouldn't be compared to the boy who cried wolf. Yet after living through the pandemics, an alien invasion that never came, the floods and abnormal weather changes, well, Ten didn't feel fear like he would've years ago.

He wasn't the only one. People saw the news and just went on with their lives. There were some cults that insisted on making it a big deal, although they'd been trying to do that for ages with no success.

Maybe a big space rock would hit the Earth and change their lives forever. Maybe it would just pass by. Maybe Ten didn't care if humanity was wiped away like the dinosaurs once were. Maybe it was time for a new species to take over the world.

Voicing out these thoughts, had gotten a snort from her, "It's time for a Planet of the Apes marathon."

Neither of them particularly cared for the franchise, and as it plays on the screen, they soon find other things to distract them. Like playing Tic Tac Toe until their hands and forearms were covered with X's and O's. Then moving on to the other kind of XOXO. Soon Ten finds himself drifting to sleep with her cuddled up in his arms.

The next morning when Ten wakes up, she is still snoozing against him, a blanket wrapped around them both that hadn't been there before. Gently slipping out of her grasp, Ten notices the TV had been switched off though he couldn't remember doing it.

"G'morning!" Taeyong holds out a warm mug for him which he gratefully accepts. “Have a fun night?”

Doyoung, who is slumped over the counter between the kitchen and the dining room, raises an arm along with his muffled greeting.

"Yeah, hey. Good morning, Taeyong. Doyoung."

Jungwoo wasn’t around, though that wasn’t unusual. He stayed away whenever Ten came to the flat.

“So which one of you tucked us in and turned off the TV?”

Taeyong and Doyoung exchange a glance.

“That wasn’t us,” Doyoung says. His head rests on his elbow now, his words much clearer than before. “We fell asleep long before you two yesterday.”

Ten gapes at them. “Wait. What?” There was one other person who lived here, but it couldn’t possibly be him, no way.

Jungwoo walks over and snatches the toast off Ten’s plate.

“You?” Any other day, Ten would have attempted to grab back his food. He’s a bit too busy putting things together to bother today.

Jungwoo raises a brow, glancing at Ten like he’s the one acting strange.

A dead cockroach:

The morning starts with shouts.

"Why won't you just die?"

Her face fills with disgust, nothing but loathsome hatred in her whines.

"Ten! Do something!"

Yeah, no. There is no way Ten is approaching that beast. No matter how little it is, Ten is not taking chances by going into a fight he knows he'd lose.

Cockroaches had wings. Which probably meant they could fly, jump high or something. Not to be underestimated. Ugh.

"You do something," Ten shoots back. The cockroach scurries across the room towards them and with a yelp Ten jumps onto the couch where he’s hopefully out of its reach.

In the end, she gets fed up and uses a broomstick to get rid of the creature.

Once he is certain it’s safe, Ten finally slides off where he was crouched on the couch. He heads over to the bathroom, opens the door and immediately slams it shut.

"Love, can you come over here?" Ten slowly pushes the door again to peer in and assess the situation.

There are cockroaches everywhere. Well not just cockroaches, there is a whole assortment of bugs, but Ten doesn’t know the names of them. Creepy crawlies is sufficient enough a word to call them all. He doesn’t particularly care what they are. He just wants to be as far away from them as possible.

"Ten? Darling, what's wrong?" She hurries over, radiating concern. Then she sees the problem and sighs. "Wait. I'll be back."

Ten tries to hide his nervousness but it still seeps into his voice. "H-hurry please."

"I think we should start naming these guys," she says as she shakes the bottle of bug spray. "Like look at that one. Doesn't it remind you of that guy who tried to scam you last summer?"

Ten's glance at the insect she points at isn’t long enough to see any sort of resemblance but he nods his head in agreement.

“Can you call Doyoung for me? And let him know about this.” She gestures at the insects, some dead and others still scuttling around. “Actually, maybe you should stay at their place until we deal with this. Taeyong invited us for dinner tonight anyway. You can go over early and help him out.”

“Ok,” Ten agrees. "Can we move somewhere else?"

"If it's about the bug problem, then no."

"But-"

"There's no point, Ten. Even if we move, bugs might appear there. We can't keep moving each time."

"The bugs are taking over the world,” groans Ten. He sounds way too serious for what he’s saying. “This is how my life ends."

"Ten. You'll be fine. I'll keep getting rid of the bugs for you, okay?" She wasn’t exactly happy about it, no, but she’d do it if she had to.

"I thought you were afraid of bugs," Doyoung says as he sets down the bag of bottles of bug spray and other equipment for the battle against the creepy crawlies.

"I am. But one of us has to take care of the creepy crawlies," she says with a grimace. "And you know how Ten is."

Doyoung smirks. “Ah, so it’s love.”

“Love?” She ponders it for a moment. “Maybe it is.”

A/N: I return from hiatus with the longest fic I've finished so far! The inspiration for this fic came from songs (plus the time I saw a cockroach on the wall) and it has come a long way from what I initially had in mind. At first I thought I'd write an angsty futuristic tale but somehow it turned into a fic about ordinary people living their ordinary lives with the possibility of the world as they know it ending in the background. This fic is the smoothie of all the ideas I had- take a bunch of different stories and mix them all into one.

Thank you for giving this fic a chance! As always, feedback/comments/likes/reblogs are appreciated!

I have to thank @ericssmile for reading this fic and reassuring me! Also extremely grateful to @hvae for the help and comments that made my day :')

Jia, I hope you enjoyed the fic! It is unlikely that I would've written this, if it weren't for the wonderful collab. Thank you ♡

#neofuture #kokonomi #nct-writers #supermnet #nct ff #nct fanfic #nct fic #nct ten x reader #wayv ten x reader #superm fic #wayv fanfic #nct au #superm ten #nct ten angst #nct ten fluff #nct fluff #nct angst

38 notes · View notes