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jenoptimist · 5 years ago

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5 times you try to confess to him and fail plus the 1 time you succeed

Today is the day you are going to do it. There can’t be a day that triumphs Valentine’s Day when confessing feelings, right? At least that’s what Kunhang and Yangyang have been telling you for the past two weeks leading up to the festive date. According to them, there is no other day to do it but then.

It is absolute chaos trying to make chocolate the day before with them zooming around the kitchen and distracting you with their hilarious antics but you persevere, resulting in cute heart shaped chocolates. You place it in the fridge overnight so it can set, preparing the small paper bag you want to pack it in as well as a small, rectangular card with a simple note.

They walk along with you, flanked on either side, singing love songs teasingly while acting out overly dramatic scenes involving hand holding and making kissy faces at the air. Their contagious smiles are enough to coax a laugh out of you even as the anxiousness keeps building up inside you, enough to make you feel faint. The high nerves make you grip tighter onto the cute paper bag they helped you choose two days ago.

“You’ve got this!” Kunhang cheers enthusiastically, punching the air for emphasis, as you begin to approach your destination. At the nervous look you give him he wraps his wiry arm around your shoulder. “You do! Right, Yang?”

“Of course!” Yangyang huffs out. “How could anybody ever reject you?”

Just as you are about to begin the long list of the amount of times you have ever been rejected which, to be fair, has only ever been twice but twice too many if anyone were to ask you, Kunhang redirects your attention.

“There he is! Now’s your chance.”

“Maybe this is a bad idea.” You mumble, watching as your crush approaches his locker.

Dread washes over you at their twin looks of mischief and before you can tell them off, they are already shoving you towards your crush while yelling his name loudly. Kun looks back, spotting the two of them in an instant and immediately greeting them with his gorgeous smile. The bright smile remains on his face even as his gaze switches from them to you.

“Hey,” he welcomes as you slowly walk closer towards him, hands behind your back to hide your present. “How are you, y/n?” Struck by the pretty shape of his eyes and how they seem to sparkle (how do they even do that?) in the sunlight, you end up stuttering pathetically. And because Kun is an absolute angel, he doesn’t make fun of you. Just waits patiently for you to gather your words.

“I’m good thanks! What about you?”

“I’m great, thank you. How is your assignment? Do you need more help with the calculations?”

“Oh my assignment is going good!” You try not to visibly cringe at the tone your voice takes on. “I, just, uh. Well.” Inhaling deeply, you think of your friends cheering in your head in hopes of raising your courage. “I came over here because-”

“Kun!” A bell-like voice calls. From behind Kun, you can make out the figure of one of the popular girls. She’s surrounded by her friends, giggling among one another, and you can’t help the irritation that stirs in your gut as you watch her twirl her hair around her fingers. “We have our student council meeting now! Should we walk together?”

“Sure. Just a minute.” Kun answers and when he turns back to face you, her and her minions glare daggers at you. They mouth something at you as well but the joke is on them because you aren’t good at lip reading. Judging by their nasty facial expressions, it’s probably just some stupid threat, so you turn your attention back Kun. “Please continue what you were saying.” And he is so sweet, being patient with you and everything, but you can’t have him late for his meeting. Plus the courage you have built up has dwindled due to the presence of the vice president and her clique.

“No, it’s okay. You go on ahead! Can’t be late for your meeting.” You tell him, chuckling awkwardly at the end.

His brows furrow, the corners of his lips curling into a frown. “Are you sure?”

“Yep! Totally.”

“Well okay.” He says hesitantly, looking uncertain. “See you later?”

“Of course!”

You watch him walk away as you kick at nothing, fighting down the urge to scream bloody murder when the vice president looks back at you and smirks smugly as she cozies up next to him while chatting his ear off. Her giggle echoes in your mind as you leave the building.

“Well?” Your friends say in unison, expressions bright with anticipation.

You thrust the bag at them. “Here, you guys have it.” They mirror each other’s look of confusion and before they can ask, you beat them to the punch. “No, he didn’t reject me. He was running late for the student council meeting.” They still look unsure about whether or not they should take your chocolates but you swish your hand at them dismissively. At least the people you love can eat your hard work. They scarf down the sweet treats in a matter of minutes, bellowing praises at you exaggeratedly.

Later you are awfully grateful when they buy you ice-cream to help cheer up your mood because it helps you eat your feelings of regret. Damn your vice president.

It would be so easy to do it now.

Everything is perfect; it’s just the two of you alone since the other member of your group project is a no-show. The two of you are at a small, cozy café with textbooks surrounding the table, Kun focused on his laptop while you gather the information for him from the textbooks to include in the project. You can barely hear the music as you watch him stare at the screen in complete concentration as he types, the sound of his fingers hitting the keys somewhat comforting to your ears.

“What is it?” He asks without looking at you, pressing the backspace to delete a sentence that you mutually agreed doesn’t sound good. Should you tell him? Maybe. But it isn’t the time though, is it? The two of you are just here to do your project after all. There’s faint voices in your head, sounding awfully like Kunhang and Yangyang, calling you a chicken and mimicking clucks. The mental image of them moving around and making chicken noises is enough to bring a goofy smile onto your face. Alright. It’s decided. You’ll do it.

“Kun,” you call as you square your shoulders, waiting for him to give you his full attention before continuing. Swallowing audibly, you begin your sentence. “I’ve been meaning to–”

“Sorry I’m late guys! I know, I suck, but I’ll treat you guys to lunch! Promise!” Yongqin says breathlessly as he reaches your table. A groan threatens to escape your lips but you hold it in, listening as Yongqin vents about the terrible morning he has had while you resist the urge to slam your head on the table. “Have I missed anything?” The two of you shake your heads at him and take turns at updating him on the work that you have done so far as he produces his tablet from his tote bag.

Kun looks at you expectantly, probably waiting for you to finish what you were saying earlier but you wave him off. Yongqin watches the interaction pass between the two of you, wiggling his eyebrows and he winks at you when he’s sure Kun doesn’t notice. The rest of the day involves him play flirting with you like he always does, mischief in his eyes, only hesitating when Kun mumbles something about you being uncomfortable. Yongqin’s eyes sparkle brighter at that though, as if he’s hit the jackpot, and resumes his flirting–laying it on even thicker than before.

Weeks later, when you receive a stellar grade for the project, Yongqin is still play flirting with you and you desperately hope that Kun doesn’t get the wrong impression. You still haven’t told him your feelings about him after all, so you don’t want him to think that there is anything going on between you and Yongqin.

Baffled at Dejun’s suggestion, you continue to look at him as if he has grown a second head. Sure, you know that he is a big romantic but his idea? Definitely out of the question. How could he think you could serenade Kun? Has Dejun heard your voice? You can’t sing for your life! Karaoke is fun because none of you take it seriously but to actually sing a full song and mean it? With your vocals? That is a big no-no. You tell him as much.

“What!” Dejun exclaims. “Why not? C’mon! Just imagine it.” He wraps his arm around your shoulder, steering you around, as his other hand raises in the air as if to create a picture. “Him and you, alone on the rooftop at night, the stars shining bright while you sing your love for him.” Sucking a breath through his teeth he adds, “it would be so perfect.”

“I don’t love him.”

“Wha- That’s all you got out of my vision?!” At your deadpan expression he says, while swatting his hand at the air, “alright, fine. Sing your feelings for him or whatever you wanna call them.”

Eventually, however, you do give in to his idea. Although you lack the vocal skills, you have to admit; serenading seems like a very unique way to confess your feelings to him. Besides, Dejun promised that he would help you–seeing that is his ‘brilliant’ masterplan. You are extremely thankful for his resolve to train your vocals since him and his entire family are musically inclined.

It’s a month later and while you aren’t Grammy Award ready, you certainly have improved. The palpitation of your heart is all you can hear in your ears as you wait for Kun at the rooftop that the two of you frequent when you want to stargaze. The crisp weather nips at you which makes you worry at your lip, knowing how much Kun despises the cold. Maybe this is a bad idea, he could catch a cold or something. Should you cancel? Maybe you should.

Kun appears seconds into your internal debate, making sure to leave the fire exit open, you take in how cute he looks all bundled up in his parka paired with a thick scarf that’s neatly wrapped around his neck and the beanie you got for him for his last birthday. As always, he greets you with that shining smile of his while he makes his way over to you. You return his welcome just as heartily albeit laced with nervousness.

“So, stargazing?”

This is it. You are going to sing to him and then confess your feelings for him. Geez, you are so nervous that your palms become clammy which causes you to rub them on your sweats. Would he like it? You sure hope he did. He didn’t even have to like you back. It would be amazing if he did but knowing your luck, he would probably reject you. You know he will be nice about it because, well, he’s Kun–one of the biggest sweethearts you know.

“Well, uh, actually,” damn it could you get straight to the point?! “I didn’t ask you here to stargaze.”

“Oh?” His faces scrunches adorably in confusion, “then what do you want to do?”

When you are about to reply, it begins to rain. Not the light sort rain, of course, because you are extremely unfortunate. No, instead it downright pours and a hysteric laugh almost pulls itself out of you. Was the universe trying to say something? Maybe Eros has decided that you two aren’t meant to be. Goodness, of course the weather had to be atrocious the night you decide to confess your feelings on the rooftop–the weather has been perfect all week! The weather app must have lied to you. The creators will definitely be reading a review from you. Ugh.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Kun grabbing your hand and leading you back inside the apartment complex that you both live in. He leaves no room for you to expose your plan, instead quickly ushers you back to your floor and tells you to take a hot shower and drink some tea to prevent you from becoming ill. You allow him to fuss over you, promising that you will do as he says as he bids you goodbye.

After closing the door of your home, you loudly smack your forehead against the wood and stay there for a minute or two, resisting the urge to scream, before composing yourself. When you spin around, you find your dad and older brother blinking at you owlishly.

“Don’t even ask.” You grumble, accutely aware of the wetness that has crawled into your socks. Stupid fabric shoes.

“You look like a wet kitten.” You stick your tongue out at your brother who in turn kicks lightly at your leg when you pass by him on your way to the bathroom.

“The way to a man’s heart is his stomach.” Yukhei informs you confidentally. “But I know you can’t cook.” You make an indignant noise but he shrugs unrepentantly at you, knowing that he is right. “So here’s what you do; after school stomp up to him and just say it confidently. ‘I love you, Kun! Please tell me you love me too!’ Or whatever you want to say.”

“Why do all of you think I’m in love with him!” You all but shout. Yukhei shushes you, glancing apologetically at the patrons at the diner you both work out. There are barely any people–Sunday afternoons are always dead so he’s just being dramatic as usual. “And besides, it’s easy for you to say! You practically reek of confidence.”

As he’s about to reply, his eyes wander behind you and then he dashes away from you all the while claiming something about how he promised your manager that he would take stock of the napkins. At first you don’t question it because it’s Yukhei–he probably did forget to do it or something. However, when you turn around to keep your eyes on the area, allowing you to slyly check on the customers that are present, you spot Kun approaching the counter.

That mischievous lanky brat.

“Hey Kun! Table for one?” You greet, already grabbing a menu from underneath the counter.

“I’ll just sit here, if it’s okay?” He replies, gesturing at the seat a few meters down.

“Yeah, no, totally! That’s totally alright!” If you could face palm, you would. Curse Yukhei for leaving you on the floor alone.

“Any recommendations for today?” He inquires as you pour him a glass of water. You list off what you like from the menu, avoiding anything that included salmon due to his aversion of it. When you have taken his order and given it to the chefs, the two of you slip into easy conversation while you tend to the other customers in between.

After Kun’s meal, Yukhei emerges from the back and pretends that he wasn’t the one to see him walk through the door first. The tall teen makes sure to slip in the fact that your shift is over somewhere in the conversation that the two of them have, winking at you exaggeratedly when the older teen isn’t looking. Kun offers to wait for you, smiling pleasantly, and how could you say no? Simple, you don’t.

Before you leave, Yukhei ruffles your hair and wishes you good luck. As you turn back to look at him, exiting the diner with your crush, he flashes you two thumbs up with a large grin. “Confidence!” He encourages silently, punching the air.

The thought of confessing slips inside your mind as Kun takes you on a detour, asking you whether or not you would like to go to the museum with him. He’s been meaning to go, he informs you, but something always comes up or none of your mutual friends are free. Knowing them, they probably refused on purpose so that he would end up going with you. That’s what you suspect, anyway, and you are almost one hundred percent sure that you’re right.

You go because you have never refused Kun and you aren’t about to start today. At the end of the day, after you have done various activities, you are absolutely positive that your feelings are going to bubble over and that you’ll end up word vomitting your confession.

Fortunately (or is it unfortunately?) that doesn’t happen because his mom ambushes your little hang out and that’s how you find yourself in the supermarket, you and Kun trailing behind her with one basket each as she ticks off the items on her grocery list.

The sun shining brightly is the reason why you find yourself at the beach. The others are playing in the water, splashing at each other as they yell over one another. Except for Kun and Sicheng, that is. Kun is taking a stroll by himself, taking pictures every now and again, while Sicheng lays next to you on his towel. The two of you swap stories which allows you to confide in him about your current obstacle. He listens patiently, nodding empathically here and there and laughing at Dejun’s ‘ridiculous’ plan.

“Maybe I’m not meant to tell him.” You sigh dejectedly, flopping onto your back dramatically as you close your eyes to shield them from the sun.

Sicheng hums thoughtfully. A moment of silence before he decides to say something. “Or maybe you’re thinking too much about it. It doesn’t have to be the perfect confession as long as you get your feelings across, right?” You open your right eye to peek at him. “When it’s meant to be it’ll happen.”

You roll so that you’re holding up your weight on your forearms. “When did you get so wise?” Sicheng shrugs at you. “I dunno. Maybe you’re right. But I also don’t want to just wait forever either, you know?” From behind your friend, you watch as Kun’s figure slowly becomes a dot in the distance.

“And?” At your guilty look he huffs out a laugh, “I know you better than you think so go on, finish your sentence.”

“And,” you add, returning his curious stare. “Nothing will happen if I don’t do anything.” You avert your stare back to Kun. Should you go up to him? He is walking alone. But maybe he wants to be alone and that’s why he didn’t stay with you and Sicheng. Yeah, he probably wants some solitude–he has been a bit stressed lately.

“Go,” Sicheng tells him, lazily throwing some sand in your direction. “I know you want to.” Your mouth twists at his command. You don’t want to leave him alone. He seems to hear what you are thinking and clicks his tongue at you. “I’ll be fine. Now go, create your opportunity.”

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And with that you haul yourself up, building up courage while fighting off the nerves as you make your way to Kun who is steadily returning to your group. When you are finally a few meters from him, you recall what Yukhei told you previously and square your shoulders as you stomp over to him. Confidence. All you need to do is channel your inner Yukhei–his confidence is out of this world and you find it extremely admirable.

The only thing you manage to utter is a greeting because suddenly there is a wet snout pressing into the back of your legs and when you whirl your head around, you find and extremely friendly looking dog staring up at you before it barks loudly. The cute retriever looks like it’s begging you to play which leaves you no choice but to bend down and coo at it, scratching at it’s ears. Kun is quick to huddle beside you and mimic your actions.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” Comes the breathless voice of the owner, “aw he likes you!”

With your opportunity lost, you do nothing but smile brightly at the owner as you shower compliments about her pet.

Taking Sicheng’s words from weeks ago into consideration, you decide not to try and create any opportunities. Instead you let time take its course–which proves to be difficult due to your impatient nature. To distract yourself, you dabble in various activities; Yongqin and Sicheng teach you how to dance, Kunhang and Yangyang alternate between taking you to the arcade and cinema, Dejun and Yukhei go to different food joints with you. When you aren’t with them, you spend your time on the rooftop reading books or painting whichever paint-by-numbers you have recently purchased. Today you find yourself reading the book that you purchased a few days ago, your back against the brick wall of the building.

“Hey,” Kun’s voice calls out from somewhere ahead of you. As you place your thumb in between the pages so you don’t lose your spot, he takes a seat on the ground beside you so that the two of you are shoulder to shoulder. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” you agree blandly, “the boys have been hogging up all of my time.”

The explanation ensues a long conversation about what the two of you have done over the past few weeks, catching each other up with what either of you haven’t mentioned through the text messages that you have sent each other. Somehow along the way, and you are incredibly perplexed as to how it even happened in the first place, Kun ends up laying his head on your lap as you read your book aloud to him from the very beginning. At first you catch a glimpse of him smiling contently from the top of your book, his eyes closed as he catches the sun’s rays. But now, four chapters in, you find that he is sleeping–you can tell by the way his features have relaxed and the way he breathes in a slow, constant pattern. You stare at him for what feels like aeons simply because you can without being called out.

“Kun,” you whisper as you trace the slope of his nose down to the curve of his cupid’s bow. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while but I like you. Like, butterfly eruptions in my tummy and sweaty palms kind of like. I’ve liked you for months at this point and it’s okay if you don’t like me back or anything, I just had to tell you.”

Unlike in the movies or dramas that you have watched, your crush doesn’t open his eyes at your confession and demand what you say before declaring his own feelings towards you. Instead he remains as asleep, blissfully unaware of your confession. You eye him for a bit longer, internally cursing that you didn’t bring your phone with you so that you can snap a picture, before returning to your book.

It’s game night with the boys and this time it’s at Yongqin’s house. You and Kun brought the huge load of snacks while the others bring a selection of board games and extra sets of Nintendo Switch controllers. It’s all fun and games until they get bored and decide to play truth or dare. You love the boys, really you do, but you swear that you are going to end up exploding on them with the way the game is going. For the past half an hour they have been on your case, squeezing you to admit your feelings for Kun and every time you take the penalty. At this point you can’t even look your crush in the eye, too busy glaring a hole into the floor of Yongqin’s living room. Even Sicheng and Dejun are trying hard to make you voice your feelings.

“You know what,” you snap as you stand up, “I’m going to get a drink.” They whine at you but all you do is give them a stink eye before stomping away. They know what they are doing. Why can’t they just accept that it is never going to happen no matter how much they try catch you out with their truths and dares.

After gulping your ice-tea you remain in the kitchen, choosing to stare out the window rather than to return to your friends. You pour yourself another glass, downing the beverage before settling on eyeing the bottom of the cup. Would it hurt them to leave you alone? And what happened to Sicheng’s advice? Gosh, knowing him he probably was bribed into their plan with the promise corn chips or something. Ugh. One more glass and you’ll go back. Hopefully they wake up and realize that they need stop their antics. They mean well, you know they do, but if they don’t stop you’ll go home.

“Sorry about them.” Kun apologizes awkwardly as he appears through the doorway while your pouring your final glass. You almost drop it in shock because of his surprise entrance, your mood gradually mellowing at the sight of him.

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry about. They’re just being stupid.”

Kun shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, you’re right. But they wouldn’t be poking fun at you if it weren’t for me.”

“Weren’t for you?” You echo in confusion. “What are you talking about? The only reason why they keep egging me is because they want me to admit that I like you.” There’s a pause as the two of you sink in what you have just disclosed. “Wait! That wasn’t–! I mean–” The groan that escapes you isn’t loud enough to drown the sound of your racing heart. Of course this would happen to you. Could the ground please swallow you?

“You like me?” The tone of his voice isn’t the one you imagined he would use–a soft, pitying one while he rejects you. It isn’t that at all. Rather, it’s one of awe. As if he can’t believe what he has just heard. “Really?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod at him while sneaking a peek at his expression through your lashes. The sheer glee plastered on his face gives you enough courge to stare at him head on. Something warm and fuzzy settles in you when you realize that you have only seen this expression a handful of times.

“Yeah,” you confirm, swallowing audibly before you continue. “I do. I really, really do. I’ve had a crush you since you offered to help us move into the building.”

“That was three years ago.”

“Yeah. And my feelings have only grown since then.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” The silence that follows is agonizing. “Well,” you say, unable to hide the awkwardness that shines through, “I, uh, better head back in I guess. They’re probably looking for us.” You avert your gaze as you inch towards the door, hoping that this is all a dream because him not saying anything is better than rejection. “Uh, excuse me.”

Kun doesn’t move from where he is blocking the door. “Wait! Sorry! I just can’t believe that you like me back.”

“Oh.” You whisper breathlessly. Well, that changes everything. “So since we both like each other,” you start saying as you lick your lips nervously, “would you maybe like to go on a date next Saturday?”

“Of course I would! Pick you up at two?”

“Two is good.” You confirm shyly, smiling stupidly at the tiled floor. Kun’s hand appears in your vision and although your hands are slightly clammy, you take it anyway, allowing him to lead the two of you back to the others.

The rest of the boys break out in wild cheers the second they spot the two of you holding hands. Your jaw drops when, after the mini celebration has ended, they hand cash over to Yongqin.

“What?” He asks innocently as he stuffs the notes into his pocket.

“You’re all ridiculous.” Is your answer as you and Kun take a seat on the couch.

“Ridiculous?” Kunhang repeats, “you want to hear ridiculous?” He then begins recalling his version of how ‘painful it was to watch you and Kun dance around each other’. Which begins a chain reaction, the others dramatically telling it from their points of view. But even as you slowly sink in the chair, your cheeks flaring, you find that you don’t mind considering you got your dream boy.

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sunnyjenolvr · 3 years ago

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johnny suh x reader | g: fluff | wc: 687 | cw: none!

[11:24AM]

“Johnny?” You call out into the empty living room. His shoes were on the shoe rack and his keys were still on the side table so he’s home, but he’s nowhere to be heard.

“Johnny? You home?” You call out a little louder, stepping further into his apartment

“Just finished showering!” He shouts back. “Coming out now!”

When Johnny steps out of the shower and opens the bedroom door, he is met with you standing in the middle of his living room — holding a giant sunflower in your hand.

“Where the hell did you get a giant sunflower?”

The scene is weird. You and Johnny are standing in the middle of a small hallway that connects his living room to the bedroom. You’re holding a giant sunflower by its stem while he’s half naked with only a towel wrapping his lower half; looking back and forth between your eyes and the sunflower — not to mention there is water dripping from his hair everywhere.

“Dude, you’re dripping.” You comment, not answering his question.

“You want me to take off the towel and flash you right here just to dry my hair?” He quickly retorts back.

“I- Oh god no!” Johnny laughs at your flusteredness.

You and Johnny weren’t sure what you were. When you first met through a mutual friend, there was a clear and obvious attraction between the both of you but no one ever said anything. Throughout the course of months, you two often got coffee together, texted each other asking for advice, and sometimes even went shopping together. However, those weren’t dates — no of course not, but you can’t deny the way he would steal glances of you during those times and you doing the same.

“How’d you get into my apartment?” Johnny asks, walking back into the bedroom. You follow him into the bedroom and sit on the edge of his bed while he heads for the closet.

“You randomly gave me your code like two days ago, silly.” You laugh, thinking back to when Johnny gave you his apartment code “in case of emergencies.”

“Yeah, in case of emergencies.” He steps out of the closet dressed in sweatpants and a white tee. “This doesn’t seem like one.”

“Me holding a giant sunflower isn’t a big emergency to you?” You joke.

“Why do you have one anyway??”

“I-” You stutter. “I don’t know. I was walking out of the comp sci building and you know how there’s this giant field like down the road?” He hums, following your story. “Yeah, so I was walking and I just saw the sunflower. It was just — there.”

“There?” He sits next to you, so close that you can smell his body wash.

“Yeah, it was so big and it just stuck out like a sore thumb because it was the only flower in that big field of nothing and it just reminded me of you.” You look down at the small sunflower etched on his arm — the first tattoo he had ever gotten at the age of 18. “Next thing I know, I’m driving to your apartment and now I’m here.”

Johnny takes the sunflower from your grip and he touches the petals softly, admiring it while you admire him. All of a sudden he stands up.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“To put this in a vase so it won’t die obviously.” He scoffs. You two head out to the kitchen where he fills up a skinny vase with some water before dropping the sunflower in delicately.

“I don’t think it’s going to stay alive like this.” You say.

“At least it can stand.” He shrugs. The two of you step back to admire the giant sunflower in the middle of his round dining room table. “Hey,” Johnny starts, turning around to look at you, his voice much quieter.

“Yeah?” You reply softly, turning to your side and titling up to meet his brown eyes.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” Johnny says shyly, smiling like a schoolgirl in love, pink starting to shade the apple of his cheeks.

“Y- yeah, of course.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #johnny suh #johnny suh drabbles #johnny suh fluff #nct timestamps

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years ago

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Mr. Big

▸ Johnny x reader (CEO au) ▸ 1,438k words ▸ Smut, Fluff ▸ Unprotected attempted sex, they tried to have but Johnny wouldn’t fit, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, size difference, petite reader but its not described, Jaehyun cameo, Inspired by Mr. Big in Sex and the City hihi, maybe I’ll make this a full fic someday. ▸ Requested, see anon request at the end of the drabble

A rumor has been spreading in your office that the CEO is a very hot man who's recently had a divorce at a very young age. He is very much private and no one knew what he looked like except his secretary and his business partners. Word is, he is a young CEO and he is very business minded, ahead of his time, and a true gentleman. Mr. Big is what your office calls him.

“Do you think Mr. Big will appear at the company’s Christmas party tonight? your friend asks you through the phone while you get ready for the said big party tonight.

“I think, no. He’s a very busy guy, I’m sure he won’t waste his time with us” you said.

“It’s a very extravagant party Y/n…” you listen to her theories about what he really looked like but the truth is you don’t care. The party may be big tonight, fancy and very exclusive, but you’re just going tonight because you wanted to see your ex, Jaehyun.

The time has come and you’re about to enter the place and walk on the red carpet when someone tapped your shoulder, “excuse me miss, you dropped this” he hands you your handkerchief that seemed to have slipped on your hand and you thanked him with the nicest smile you have.

“Do you have a date? Beautiful miss?” he asked. The handsome gentleman that’s in front of you right now is heaven sent because you just saw your ex with his date get out of a car, arms hooked, and… they look perfect together.

“Want to walk together? I’m Y/n, by the way”

“Johnny. It’s a pleasure”

The party went on and Johnny stayed by your side and kept you company. You didn’t expect to have a great time with a guy you just met tonight, you didn’t even know that someone so handsome like him worked in your company. He is very funny and outgoing, he listens to you whenever you tell him stuff that he doesn’t have any idea, and he says he thinks you do a lot of great things in this company.

Johnny became your unexpected date for tonight. Dancing under flashing lights and loud party music. He looked so handsome, dancing in his tux you thought. He taught you how to talk wine, which is very attractive when he does it. After a few glasses of wine and different kinds of alcohol, the gentleman offered you a nightcap in his apartment which you accepted of course. The truth is, you both know that he didn’t just offer you a nightcap, but he offered you a one night stand and you’re both up for it.

Outside the lobby, you thought you were waiting for a cab but a fucking limousine parked in front of you, and Johnny opened the door for you. No one with your salary can afford a limousine and a Rolex watch that you just noticed now that all the party lights are gone. From that moment, you remembered what your friend said earlier. ‘Young CEO and a true gentleman’ you breathe in and breathe out quietly in your own corner, trying not to show that you’re actually nervous because the man sitting beside you might be Mr. Big.

Which is basically your boss.

“Why are you so far, come sit near me,” he thought you might figure it out already because you’re a smart girl. “I didn’t tell you because I know you will act like that. Listen, I don’t often do this. If that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t seduce my employees, you just happened tonight… And I very much enjoyed your company. Please don’t think too highly of me I’m-”

“Just a normal person who wants to attend the company’s Christmas party” you finished his sentence for him so he can stop worrying. “I’m just shocked. That’s all, the rumors are true then you looked so handsome”

He blushed and patted the space near him. The ride to his apartment, or to wherever he’s taking you became warm and full of touching. Hands playing each other’s fingers, his other hand is placed on your thigh and he never stopped talking about the most random things.

Your head hit the wall in Johnny’s big room as he kisses you hungrily, making a trail of your clothes from the entrance of his room until you reach his super king sized bed. You sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Johnny to finish removing his slacks and see him just wearing his boxers briefs. When it finally happened, your jaw dropped as you scan his beautiful body, his tattoos suits him and the sunflower on his arm had your attention.

“Condoms?” He asked before he joins you to bed.

“Raw” you answered and the next thing you know he’s removing your panties while your legs dangle on the edge of the bed. He throws your panties somewhere, not caring where it lands, and went straight to kissing your thighs. Slowly he kneels in between your legs as you support your body with your propped shoulder. He wanted to eat you out, but you want him to fuck you already so you protest before his tongue licks your wet folds.

“Okay” he whispers and proceeds to remove his boxers brief in front of you. You removed your bra but you cover your boobs with your arm, teasing him further before you two fuck.

“You’re not fair, I want to see you” he tried removing your arm but you lost your mind when you saw his cock. His nickname 'Mr. Big' proceeds him well.

“It’s not yet fully hard-“

“Johnny, that won’t fit inside me”

“That’s why I’m gonna make you so wet” he chuckles lowly and you both crawled to bed. He immediately kneels in between your legs, licks his fingers, and played with your slit while you lay comfortably and grip the sheets. Even his fingers feel so good already, it’s making you twist and turn, moan so loud and clench and unclench.

When he stopped making you wet using his fingers, he grabs his cock and slides his head up and down on your slit. “You look so hot” he says as he continues, “ready?”

You breathed heavily and ready yourself for his big cock. You watch him line it on your entrance and, “oh slowly-“ you moan out. But he was so big and you’re so tight for him that Johnny himself is having a hard time sliding in so he pulls his head out and licks your slit for a few minutes until he can hear wet sounds and he can slurp some of your pussy juices already. He saw what his mouth does to you and the effect was like a wave crashing onto you, too much pleasure, oh he knows how to eat pussy. “Sorry. I had to make sure” he then lines his cock again, push slowly, and thankfully it’s sliding smoothly now.

But

“Johnny stop-“ he did immediately but he did not pull out. He watched you breathe heavily as you take your time which is fine with him of course. “Okay continue” it was practically a moan, and he did continue as soon as you gave him the permission.

When his cock is half in already, you stopped him again with your hand and let out soft, “ouch. John-“

The moment he heard the word ‘ouch’ he pulled out slowly and said his sorry over and over again like the gentleman that he is. He kissed your lower abdomen, your knees, your thighs, caress your skin until he feels you relax again. “I’m sorry” he whispers beside your ear and laid beside you, “we don’t need to continue and have sex, I’m sorry” his strong arms cages you with a tight embrace while he still showers you with loving kisses.

When it’s all quiet again, you and Johnny stayed in bed, bodies to bodies and enjoying each other’s presence. The fact that he has someone to share this big bed tonight is better than sex if he’s being honest. He loves how you trace his tattoos on his chest, draw small circles on them and let out a soft giggle whenever he gets tickled.

What a big baby, you thought.

From there on you and Mr. Big had a secret relationship and you come home to him every night. It doesn’t matter if he can’t have sex with you whenever he’s horny, what matters is he has someone who truly cared for him from now on.

The sex can wait.

↩︎prev next ▶︎

Dear Anon, I had fun plotting! Thank you for this request.

#nct smut #nct-writers #kpopscape #cznnet #neowritingsnet #neosmutcollective #johnny smut #nct johnny smut #nct 127 smut #johnny x reader #nct imagines #nct drabbles

461 notes · View notes

kireimarkeu · 4 years ago

Text

Yellow; l.mk

+another repost, one of my favourite works ever. its unfortunate not many liked it... ;-; but im still gonna post it anyways. i did not make any changes to this fic.

summary: a journey where boxer!mark and you start to fall for each other.

5.8k words... it wasn’t supposed to be this long.. sorry guys ):

i changed the title because sunflower reminded me of johnny lmfao! also i know you guys don’t like long fics but istg i didn’t want it to be so long either ;;

warnings: mentions of blood & violence, f words

+Day 1

The loud cheers were really starting to annoy you. Why did you let your friend drag you here in the first place?

You let out a grumbled sigh when your friend had pulled your hand, leading you closer to the ring. Truthfully, you hated anything that has got to do with blood or violence. You didn’t dare tell your friend that since she told you that she has always wanted to go to an underground match.

People were pushing you around as you struggled to keep your balance. You hold onto your friend’s wrist, to avoid from falling.

Your friend must have noticed your discomfort and leaned towards you, “you okay?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “yeah... this- this is just not my type,”

She pouts, “do you want to leave?”

“No, no, you’ve been waiting for this, let’s just watch the match,” you reply, looking back to the ring. Your friend nodded, looking back front.

The match started within a few minutes, both participants standing on each side started getting closer, waiting for one of them to throw a punch.

“That’s Jung Jaehyun,” your friend says, pointing to the one who had chocolate abs. He had some parts of his black hair dyed a dark green, which really suits him.

Jaehyun.

He was handsome. Pretty face— really pretty face. However, his neck was filled with tattoos, which gets rid of his cute demeanour. You already knew he was the type to get lots of girls just by doing nothing.

“And that’s Mark Lee,”

Your eyes gazed on the boy with black hair.

Oh.

He’s cute. He’s really cute. Super cute features. Plump lips, cute cheeks— you just want to pinch. You were surprised why he would be in a ring with such adorable features. You wanted to coo at his ears, why are his ears so cute?

If you were to pick one, you would pick the latter. He’s just your type.

Great, you’re doing it again. Thinking which boys you would choose.

Shaking your thoughts away, you focus on the match.

Jaehyun suddenly throws a punch, to which Mark managed to dodge. Mark suddenly throws a punch, straight to the other boy’s cheekbones.

You let out a gasp, flinching at the sight. Though, the crowd continues to cheer.

In a blink of an eye, Jaehyun has Mark under him, his arm tightening around Mark’s neck.

“Isn’t that dangerous?!” you screech, turning to your friend who was happily watching the match.

“That’s what makes it fun,” your friend winks.

Your mouth was left wide open as you look back at Mark who was struggling to breathe. You notice Mark tapping on Jaehyun’s arm as the latter lets go of his crazy tight grip on the boy.

“This is crazy,” you whisper out.

Despite being absolutely terrified of the scene that had just happened, you wanted to see more.

After a few matches, it was declared Jaehyun had won this time’s match. You actually expected it- seeing how he was slightly more builded than Mark. At the same time, you were disappointed that Mark had lost the match.

The people around you started getting closer, excited by the first match. It was making it hard for you to breathe.

You tap your friend’s shoulder, “I am going to step out for a while,”

“Do you want me to follow?” she asks.

You shake your head, “no, enjoy the rest of the match,”

“Okay, text me if you need anything,” she tells you as you let out a hum and step away from the crowd. You climb the flight of stairs, pushing the tinted glass door open. You take a deep breathe, finally able to breathe fresh air.

You rest your back against the brick walls, fishing out your phone to reply to some texts and scroll through Instagram.

“Hey,”

“Oh, jeez!” you jumped, your hand pressed against your chest, turning to see Mark.

Mark laughs, staring at you in amusement, “weren’t you from inside? I saw you,”

You gulp and nodded, “yeah, yeah I was, I saw you too,”

You scan his features. He had multiple bruises and cuts on his cheekbones and lips. You notice a deep cut on his eyebrow, and a bruise on his neck. You look back up to his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, pointing to the bruises painting his face.

He chuckles at your question, wiping the blood staining his lips. “Your first time here?”

You nod, your head moving to scan the cuts on his face, “are you going to clean that up?”

“I’m okay,” he reassures you, a small smile playing on his lips, “this is nothing,”

You wince. That was nothing? You would be crying in pain if you had that many cuts and bruises on you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I’m Mark,” he says again, “what’s your name, pretty?”

Your face turned a crimson red, “y/n,”

“y/n,” he repeats, the name rolling out of his tongue smoothly, “beautiful name for a beautiful girl,”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, “how many times have you used that phrase, Mark?”

Mark was flustered for a moment, but quickly regain his coolness, “well, as of 3 seconds ago… once?”

He laughs when you grimace at his response, shaking your head in astonishment.

“So, what were you doing in an underground boxing, y/n?” he asks you, “you don’t seem like the type to be around this area,”

“My friend has been dying to come to an underground match and she dragged me with her,” you explain.

He hums, “ah, your friend? She really caught Jaehyun’s eye earlier,”

You smirk, knowing your friend definitely has been crushing on Jaehyun too.

“We should set them up!” you say excitedly.

+Day 15

2 weeks later, you were back at the same place. This time, you weren’t forced, you had begged your friend to bring you again. You would go alone but being alone in a place filled with rowdy men scares you. You knew your friend would agree since she wanted to see Jaehyun too.

“You usually don’t like this type of things, why are you suddenly so excited?” your friend asked, grabbing her bag, while you were tugging on her arm.

You bit your lip nervously, knowing the exact reason why, but you refuse to tell her.

***

“You’re back again,” says Mark, looking down at you with a smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, I just need some break from the chaos at school,” you explain. You were actually doing well in school. Unlike other students, you let out your stress from doing work and projects.

Mark hums as he looks around, “wanna go somewhere quieter?”

“But—” you turn away to find your friend, but she was nowhere to be found.

“She’s talking to Jaehyun,” Mark tells you.

You turn back around, holding your breathe when you see Mark leaning awfully close to your face. When he saw your flustered state, he started smirking, letting out a low chuckle.

“Come,” he says, tugging on your elbow, pulling you out of the crowd. Climbing the familiar stairs, the both of you walked towards an empty playground. The both of you take a seat on the swings.

“It’s kinda scary to be in a playground at night,” you state, looking around the extremely quiet area.

You hear Mark laugh at your statement; you look at him confusingly. “You know what you remind me of?”

You raise your eyebrows.

“A sunflower,” he tells you, making you blush. “Anything with the colour yellow,”

“And why is that Mark?”

He rests his head on the rope of the swings as he stares at you, “You seem like someone who is absolutely cheerful, everyone needs someone like you in their life,”

You smile at his sweet words.

Your eyes gaze on his hands that was wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through them.

“Are your hands okay?” you ask, nodding your chin towards his hands resting on his lap.

He looks down at his hands then back at you, smirking, “why? Did I make you worry?”

You look at him like he was crazy, “of course you did! The guy went pretty hard on you,”

Mark felt embarrassed at that. You came to watch his match twice and he still couldn’t win in front of you.

He looks away from your gaze, “it was nothing,” he murmurs.

You were quiet for a while. You felt guilty for bringing it up, knowing he was already beating himself up for it.

“You did great,” you blurted out, “I came to support you actually,”

“Really?” he chuckles, his gaze still on his shoes.

“Yup, you did so well, I think I should take you out for lunch,” you blurt out without realising. Your eyes widen at what you had just said.

Oh god, why did you say that? Did you have no shame? What if Mark didn’t even feel the same way?

Mark swiftly turns to look at your confused face. Fuck, he just wanted to hug you so bad.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” he asks, an amused grin plastered on his lips.

Oh god.

You quickly face away from the boy who was staring at you with amusement. “N-no,”

He lets out a defeated sigh, “damn, really? I was hoping it would be a date,”

Oh fuck, he was smooth.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me out on a date?” you huff.

“Do you want me to ask you out on a date?”

“No! I mean—”

“Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

+Day 17

The date was originally scheduled in 5 days but Mark was too excited and had asked you to meet slightly earlier, to which you agreed.

This time, Mark wasn’t in a tank top and shorts, he didn’t have cuts on his face or bloody hands wrapped in bandages. He was dressed in a button up and black skinny jeans.

He’s so adorable.

“What,”

“What?” you look at him weirdly.

“You keep staring at me,” he points out, “do I have something on my face? Or am I too handsome?”

You grimace at his words and threw a fry at him, giggles leaving your lips.

Mark wanted to take you out on a proper expensive date, but he was also a broke college student— just like you. He felt bad about not being able to take you out on a proper date, but you had reassured him that you’d rather eat McDonalds kids meal than eat a $50 meal that is the size of a pea.

“You know,” you start, leaning back on the chair, “If I saw you for the first time, I wouldn’t believe it if you told me you were a boxer,”

“Why?”

You shrug, “you look like a baby to me,” you tell him, “just wanna pinch your cheeks,”

He scoffs, puffing out his chest, “I may look like a baby, but I fight like a man,”

+Day 23

Mark: hey are you coming later

You: where?

Mark: my match you loser

You: I don’t think so :(

You: i have a bunch of work to do :((

Mark: :(

Mark: oky then :/ make sure you rest enough

You: I will :) don’t worry haha

+Day 25

“I didn’t know Mark had many girl friends,” your friend says.

You raise your eyebrows at that. The both of you weren’t official yet, only at the talking stage. He has never mentioned his friends or his family, but the information had your suspicions growing.

You pretend to not be affected by the words, “how’d you know?”

“You know the day you couldn’t come for his match?” you hum, “I think he invited some girls because they were all hugging and talking,”

You would be lying if you weren’t heartbroken by your friend’s words. However, you have no rights stopping him from seeing his friends. The both of you weren’t a couple.

“Aren’t you guys a couple?”

“No,” you answer with a sharp tone, “it’s his life he can do whatever he wants.”

“You’re not fazed by it?”

“Why would I be?” you murmur, “he’s not mine to begin with.”

+Day 35

Mark: hey :)

Mark: it’s been a while

Mark: I miss you

You: I knw haha

Mark: are you coming for my match tomorrow night?

Mark: no no you have to come tomorrow!!

Mark: ok?

You: hahahah

You: I will oky

You: im finished with my work & all so why not haha

You: but I need you to come get me hehe

You: my friend wont be following so its just me :3

Mark: that’s great!!!

Mark: I’ll send u home too ok

You: oky Markie :3

+Day 36

You had your hands resting on Mark’s face, cleaning up his bloody face. Mark had lost this time round; his opponent was three times your size and had beat Mark down like a pipe.

“I don’t even know why I support you doing this,” you mumble, wiping the blood running down his face, “you make me worry too much,”

“I’m okay.”

You glare up at him. “If you think this is okay then I don’t what’s your definition of the opposite.”

He frowns at you but didn’t say a word.

It took you a good 30 minutes to clean up all of his wounds. You lean away from him, “make sure you rest for a week,”

He hums, staring at you, “thank you,”

You felt bad for being so harsh on him. You reach for his hands, holding it in yours, your thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“Can you take me home now? I’m tired,” you sigh.

Throughout the ride home, you had one of Mark’s hand resting on your lap. You didn’t let go for a second, loving the warm feeling of his hand clasped in yours. Before you knew it, his car stopped infront of your apartment building.

You pout, turning to face him., “I don’t wanna leave yet,”

“Me neither,” he chuckles, “don’t go,”

You lips break into a grin, “you loser,”

He hums.

You unlock the door, ready to open the car door but Marks tug on your hands. You face him. He lifts his free hands, his pointer finger tapping on his cheek.

You snicker at his actions, your pointer and middle finger pushing his cheek away. You stick your tongue out when he pouts at you. You open the car door and left the car, shutting it, turning to face the boy who was still pouting.

“Thanks for today,” you say, “make sure you rest for a week before you start working again,” you reminded him.

Upset that you didn’t kiss him, Mark clicked his tongue and gestured for you to go in.

+Day 40

Your eyebrows furrow when you saw the pictures Mark was tagged in Jaehyun’s photo. You knew this photo was recent from the evident bruises on Mark’s face.

You had already warned him to completely heal for a week before going back to work but why was he so stubborn?

The girls who was surrounding the guy you like didn’t go unnoticed by you. You noticed how he had his arms snake around both girl’s waist.

Shutting your eyes close, you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Is this from today?” you ask your friend, showing her your phone.

Your friend takes a look and nods without hesitation.

A loud and angry groan left your lips. Getting up from the couch, you stomped to your bedroom, shutting the door as you climbed in bed.

God, why was liking a boy so hard?

Tears started rolling down your cheeks. You were so frustrated with Mark. You liked him so much that you hated seeing him being hurt— even if it was something he loves doing.

It wasn’t the first time he was seen surrounded by girls. Although the both of you weren’t in an official relationship, you didn’t enjoy seeing him touching girls. Maybe you were being dramatic with the girls, but did you really want to date someone like him? Someone who could potentially be taken away in a flash?

You sit up, rubbing your eyes with a deep sigh. Everyone deserves a chance, even if he had hurt you.

You turn on your phone to send Mark a text.

You: you went to work today?

It took him less than a minute to respond.

Mark: how’d you know?

You: jaehyun’s Instagram

You: I thought I told you to rest?

Mark: sorry :( it was just a last minute match

You: hm

Mark: but on the bright side, I won this time!

Right. Of course he would win the match when you’re not there to support him.

You: was it fun?

Mark: yeah! Our friends came to support us

You: ohh who?

Mark: just some ex-school friends, you don’t know them haha

You: okay hha

Mark: you’re not angr right? Haha

Mark: angry*

You: no why would I be

You: you’re not my boyfriend so I have no right to be

You: mad

+Day 58

“Hey,” Mark sends you a bitter smile, “you okay? Been a whole year since we last saw each other,”

“It’s been 2 weeks, Mark,” you reply dryly.

Mark pouts and takes a seat next to you, “two weeks too long~”

He leans his head on your shoulder as his gaze on your phone. You turn to him slightly, offering your bubble tea to the male who happily accepts. He rests his hand on the plastic cup and your hand holding the cup, pulling it towards his lips.

You giggle, “you’re so cute, Mark.”

He squints his eyes cutely at you as he continues sipping on your drink. You didn’t complain, you love seeing him all happy.

You clear your throat, earning his attention, “I want to ask you something,”

He tilts his chin upwards, “what’s up?”

You try to think of a way to phrase your words together without sounding possessive.

Mark notices your furrowed eyebrows, he cracks a grin and nudges you with his shoulder, “don’t be so serious, what’s up?”

“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” you blurted out.

Mark fell silent at your question. He wasn’t annoyed or anything— not at all, he couldn’t ever be mad at you. But it was just so sudden, where was this all coming from?

“I mean- you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” you explain, “it’s not like I want to,” you laugh awkwardly, looking away from the male.

“N-no,” he stutters out, “it was just so sudden, where is this coming from?”

“I’m sorry,”

“Do you want to meet my friends?” he asks.

“I’m not forcing you,” you state, “it’s just a question- it’s not important,” you mumble the last part.

He let out a chuckle, “I want you to meet my friends,” he says, “but, they just…”

You purse your lips, already expecting the answer. Of course he won’t introduce you to his female friends. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t disappointed, but you couldn’t do anything. you can’t force him into doing something he doesn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” he sounded sincere, too sincere. It’s weird.

You feign a smile, “It’s okay, but I have to go now,”

He frowns, watching you stand up to grab your bag, “already?”

You nod, “I’ll see you when I see you, I guess,”

Before he could even hug you goodbye, you had already left the bubble tea shop.

+Day 62

You had this habit of overworking yourself whenever you were down. You had drowned yourself in projects and work. The incident that happened a few days ago has left your mind, especially when he hasn’t sent you a single text.

“Hey,” your friend called, you hum in response, although your gaze was still glued on your laptop. “Have you been talking to Mark lately?”

Your fingers freeze at his name. Suddenly you were furious just by hearing his name.

“Why?” you reply crudely.

“He’s been asking me about you. Did something happen?” your friend asks, worried about you.

He’s been asking about you? So he has been thinking about you this whole time? Your heart fluttered a little at the thought. You genuinely liked Mark and it sucked that the both of you were already having arguments even before being a couple.

You bit your lip, turning around to look at your friend, “what did he say?”

Your friend passes you her phone, showing the text message between the two.

Mark: hey, im sorry if im disturbing you but

Mark: is y/n okay?

Mark: we haven’t been texting lately and I thought she needed space so i gave her that

Mark: I just want to know if she’s okay? If shes eating healthily?

Your lips tugged upwards at the text. God, he was so cute. You scroll down a little more to read more texts.

Mark: could you update me everyday on how she’s doing?

Mark: I miss her :/

“He really likes you, you know,” your friend says abruptly.

You pass her phone back, looking up at her.

“I know I’m not officially his and I have no right on stopping him who he should hang out with,” you explain, “but it upsets me seeing how he’s being surrounded by girls every single night,”

Your friend places her hand on your shoulder, her thumb caressing your shoulder comfortingly, “you should talk to him about it.”

She was right. Communication is key. You can’t keep it a secret forever. If it upsets you, then you should voice out.

You were going to talk to him about it.

+Day 67

You were at the underground boxing area again. Mark had texted you to come and support him. You were going to talk to him about it today. After his match. This was the only way that was going to make you feel better.

This time, you were standing near the wall, furthest from the boxing ring. Mark had warned you to stay here because of all the rowdy men crowding the area.

“With your petite size, you are just going to be stepped on,” he had said.

You locked eyes with Mark who was standing in the ring. You automatically grin at him. Mark struggled to keep a straight face after seeing your adorable smile.

‘Good luck!’ you mouth, lifting your hands to show a thumbs up, then sending a heart to the male.

Mark’s heart flutter just by looking at you. He looks away to keep a straight face. Soon, the match started.

“Hi,”

You swiftly turned to see a handsome male standing next to you. You send him a polite smile before turning back to look at Mark.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I’m just here to support a friend,” you say plainly, your eyes gazing on Mark intently.

“I see,” the man says, “I’m Yuta,”

Does he ever stop talking? You hum, hoping it would stop him from talking to you.

“What’s your name?”

You wanted to roll your eyes at his question. You face the man, “I’m y/n,”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he flirts, winking at you. You grimace at his words. “You’re really pretty,”

You didn’t respond, irked by his presence.

“Do you hate talking or something?” he asks you. He rolls his eyes when you didn’t reply. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I don’t, Yuta,” you sigh.

“Then? Do you hate me or something? Do you hate someone you’ve never met?” he asks you, leaning closer to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Mark saw you talking to the male and was distracted by it, which resulted in him getting punched in the jaw by his opponent.

Loud gasps and whistles filled the room.

You quickly turn to see Mark laying on the ground, getting stepped on by his opponent. Your hands went up to your mouth, watching in horror. Once his opponent was pulled away, you ran to find Mark, but was stopped by Yuta grasping your arm.

“Let go of me!” you shrieked, pushing his arm away, running to find Mark.

You see Mark in the room, holding his jaw painfully while Jaehyun helped him bandage his hand.

“Mark!” you call, running up to him. You instantly hold onto his elbow, scanning his face that was littered with bruises. He had a black eye too.

Mark meets your worried gaze. His eyes held something different— anger and annoyance.

“Are you okay? Are you badly hurt anywhere?” you ask.

The male suddenly pushes your grip off him, looking away from you. Your eyes widen at his actions.

Did you do something wrong?

You look at Jaehyun, hoping he would signal you something— anything. But he only looked away from you guiltily. You frown at the both of them.

“Mark?” he ignores your voice.

You felt your heart clench painfully. You didn’t know what you did wrong for him to treat you this way. A disappointed sigh left your lips as you turn around, leaving the underground boxing match.

You rest your back against the brick walls, you felt tears trail down your cheeks. You came here with Mark and was expecting him to drive you home, so you didn’t bring any money with you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your fingers wiping the stray tears.

You fish out your phone, unlocking it but only to see a black screen. You harshly pressed on the button multiple times but it wouldn’t turn on. Great, your phone must’ve died. You look around, trying to find someone who could help you out.

“Are you going to get in?” a deep voice says.

You look up to see Mark standing next to his car.

+++++

A shaky sigh left your lips, brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop leaving your eyes. You look out the window, hoping it would distract you. Another tear rolled down your cheeks.

“Stop crying,” Mark murmurs.

You wanted to scoff at that. How ironic, especially when he was the one who made you cry.

“I’m fucking trying,” you say through gritted teeth.

The car comes to a halt as you see your apartment building outside. However, you didn’t leave his car.

“Did I do something?” you ask. You have been dying to ask the question ever since.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t know y/n, did you?” he responds sarcastically.

“Can you stop that?!” you shout, turning your body to face him, “Just tell me what I did so I can fucking apologize!”

He scoffs at your words, “who was that man? Openly flirting while I was in a match?”

Your brows knit in confusion. Is he being serious?

“Firstly, I don’t know who the hell that man was, and I was definitely not flirting with him,” you explain, “and secondly, you’re not my boyfriend. So, even if I wanted to flirt, I am allowed to.”

This relationship was starting to get confusing.

“We are in the talking stage!” he shouts, “technically you are mine.”

You laugh at that, “really? I can’t flirt with anyone but you’re out here hugging and touching random girls!”

He becomes quiet, looking away from your intense gaze.

You push your hair back, frustrated. “what now, Mark?”

He looks down at his lap, playing with his fingers. He felt like crying— he never cries. “I don’t think this is working out,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I think we should stop seeing each other,”

You feel your lips tremble, tears threatening to fall again. You close your eyes, the tears falling down your cheeks. Your hands clenched into fists, hoping it would stop you from letting out sobs.

“Okay,” you mutter, “I’m going to go,”

When you reached your apartment, your hand immediately rests on the wall, steadying your balance. You couldn’t even breathe properly as you let out loud sobs. Your heart was beating rapidly from your unsteady breathing.

You felt like you were going to die. You didn’t expect this to hurt so much.

You are going to get through this. You will get through this.

+Day 83

It has been a few weeks since you had last seen Mark. You had spent most of your time in your room crying your eyes out. If it wasn’t that, you would be sobbing on the couch while your friend would try her best to comfort you.

You didn’t have the energy or appetite to eat. Your friend always made you drink lots of water and would sometimes make a sandwich for you.

Your friend had secretly sent text updates to Mark, but he would just ignore them. He was hurting as much as you were. Just by hearing your name, his heart would clench painfully. Mark had spent most of his time at the ring, taking out his frustration by throwing punches and kicks.

You were washing the dishes since your friend had left to support Jaehyun in the underground match. She had invited you to come with her, but you’d rather stay home, knowing Mark would probably be there.

Your phone started ringing. You let out an annoyed sigh, quickly putting the plate on the rack, then walking over to grab your phone. You answer the call.

“What?” you sigh, “I’m busy cleaning, you know?”

“y/n,” your friend breathes heavily. This was weird. “Can you come here?”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, “what? Why? What happened?”

“Mark passed out,” she tells you.

Your eyes widen, “w-what?”

“He’s going to be sent to the hospital, you need to come, now,”

+++++

“What room is he in? Is he okay?” you ask, looking at your friend and Jaehyun with wary eyes.

“He’s okay,” Jaehyun says, “he’s in the room,” he nods towards the door.

You had tears threatening to leave your eyes. You couldn’t help but let the tears fall. You felt your body grow weak, you squat down, covering your face with your arms as you let out loud sobs.

It was all your fault. If you hadn’t taken care of him more often, none of this would’ve happened.

Your friend frowns at your state. She bends down and pat your back comfortingly. “Go in,” she persuades, “he has been dying to see you,”

You lift your head to look at her, a small pout on your lips. Your friend wipes your tears with her thumb, smiling at you.

Letting out a soft sigh, you stand up, smoothing your hair and your pants. Walking towards the door, you knock softly before sliding the door open. Mark tilts his head, seeing you walk in quietly with your lips pursed.

He didn’t know what to do. Should he send you a smile? Should he act cold?

When you got closer to him, you scan the state he was in. He had his forehead bandage and his arm in a cast. His lips were busted, a plaster on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey,” you say, voice still raspy from the crying earlier, “what happened?”

He clears his throat and looks away from you. He feels bad making you worried. But at the same time, he didn’t expect you to be here.

“Just a few bruises here and there,” he says.

“Mark.”

“It’s nothing, really!” he exclaims.

You glare at him, “fuck you,” you spit. “I came down here because everyone was so worried about you. I was so worried about you. And now that I’m here, you’re going to tell me it’s nothing?”

Mark was unbelievable. God, why do you like him so much?

His eyes soften at your words. He bit his lip nervously, intimidated by you, he slowly looks up at you, “I just don’t want to worry you,”

You scoff, “your job already worries me, Mark.”

He pouts without even realising. He looks down at his lap guiltily, playing with his fingers.

You felt bad for shouting at him. Letting out a huff, you amble closer.

“You’re okay now, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his gaze glued on his lap.

A pregnant silence fills you two, unsure of what to say to each other. You didn’t want to leave, and Mark doesn’t want you to leave. You bit your lips awkwardly as you look everywhere but Mark.

“I think I’ll leave now,” you say, “I have work to do and I don’t want to… disturb you,”

You stare at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. disappointment fills you when Mark looks away from your gaze. You turn around, ready to leave the room when Mark calls your name.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, “that day,”

You stop in your tracks, your back facing him. Your grip tightens on your sweatpants.

“Mean what?” you repeat, “you suggested it, Mark,”

“I know,” he breathes, “I regret it,”

You missed Mark. You missed his dumb jokes and his annoying laughter which you loved so much. You turn around to look at him.

“I don’t like seeing you this way, Mark,” you confess, “your job scares me, it worries me,”

“What can I do to make you not worry, y/n?” he asks, eyes widening, “should I stop doing it?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you reply harshly, “if you would actually let me stay by your side, it might ease my worries,”

You step closer to the boy, your hand resting on his cheek. He subconsciously lean against your soft hand.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” he professes, “I..I didn’t mean what I said,”

You take a seat on the chair that was next to his bed, holding onto his hands tightly. “Then, why would you say that Mark?”

“I just—“ he sighs, “I just didn’t want to lose you to someone else, y/n,” he explains, looking up at you, “we weren’t even dating yet! I just knew that I genuinely like you.”

Your heart clench at his words. “I didn’t like seeing you with other girls either,”

“I know,” he huffs, his free hand going up to ruffle his mop of black hair, “I was just stupid,”

Your thumb strokes his hand comfortingly, “It’s okay. It’s all over now,”

“I don’t want to deal with this anymore,” he tells you, “all this, jealousy and possessiveness.”

Is he going to…?

“I have been dying to ask you this question for the longest time,” he continues, “would you like to be my girlfriend?”

505 notes · View notes

neo-culture-mafia · 4 years ago

Text

Mafia!NCT 127 Reaction to You Coloring Their Tattoos

Hyuck + Mark in the Dream Reaction

not proofread yet

[ posted 09 / 10 / 2020 ]

Taeyong

He had no hesitation letting you color his tattoos. "Have fun, babe." He pinched your cheek and relaxed under the big tree you were both sitting under. Today was a cool and relaxing day as Taeyong had thrown all his plans away to be with you all day.

The dragon on his bicep was now stained in hues of purple and green with accents of neon yellow creeping up his shoulder. "So, besides today, how have you been lately?" His gaze swayed from you to the inside of his eyelids as he was drifting to sleep slowly. "Okay, I suppose. Work is annoying." You laughed and his heart twinged with love. "My students are definitely taking advantage of the wedding to slack off with their work." You chuckled and Taeyong took notice of the cool metal ring that laid on your left hand. It had never looked more magical than right now. The wedding was a fairytale story to think about in another time and place. It was the talk of the town. There wasn’t a reason the students shouldn’t be talking about it.

"They're kids. They're going to goof off for a while." He laughed and looked down at his arm. The color stuck inside the lines and stained your hands wildly. Your yawn brought his attentive eyes to your sleepy frame. "Tired, already?" He laughed as you could only shrug with a sheepish grin stuck on your face.

"Come here. Let's just rest for a little bit then." He pushed the markers into the grass and his arm wrapped itself around your waist as he pulled you down and into his side. You couldn't fight it as your ear was filled with the sound of his mellowing heartbeat. His fingers danced in your hair and danced along the curves of your cheekbones till he knew you were fast asleep.

He stayed awake just looking at your angelic features as the sight of his multi-colored arm shifted his focus. It was so meaningless to you but he loved it as he knew that it came from your heart and mind.

It was you-- perfect.

Taeil

"If I have to sit through one more of these stupid underboss meetings then I swear I'm going to go ballistic-" Taeil cut you off with a laugh. "I don't want caviar and fancy fish with wine! I want chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs with a coke!" You whined as he walked in the bedroom, one hand shoving the dress shirt underneath the hem of his dress pants.

"I know, cutie. Just a couple more meetings this week then I promise I'll take a week off and we can go and take a vacation." He pulled your hands and guided you to the bathroom where an elegant dress hung on the hooks of the door. Matching with Taeil was something you looked forward to with events like these. Yet, the event itself was throwing you off.

You got dressed and stared at yourself in the mirror. The thin red spaghetti straps danced on your shoulders as it contrasted with your dark black tattoos. The heels were uncomfortable as they carried you through the door and to the base meeting house.

You sat between Taeil and Johnny who decided to come alone and without his wife. 'lucky bitch' you thought. Taeil's hand protectively gripped the inside of your thigh. The stares of the foreign feeling underbosses littered across the room. Their aura made a shiver go down your spine as Taeil read out the news from Neo Culture's territory.

Your hand rested on top of his as your thoughts drowned out your husband's usually sweet voice. You traced the tattoos on his hand lightly with your finger. You grabbed an extra pen from Johnny's seat place and started to add onto Taeil's tattoos. The red and blue inks clashed with each other even though they laid right by one another.

Taeil gripped your wrist harshly to get you to stop but the spiteful feeling sparked in your head. You grabbed his hand with your other hand and forced it on your lap. You continued drawing and coloring the shapes and words with a vengeful attitude coursing through your veins.

A break was reached and all the underbosses were dismissed from the meeting room to the dining room where food was going to be served. Yet, once the room was cleared he grabbed your wrists once more. "What the hell are you doing?"

You automatically started to pout as you deemed that this wasn't fun anymore. "I was just trying to get your attention." You mumbled as you got up and walked out of the big wooden doors. Taeil sighed and took a deep breath. He looked down to see hearts of blue and red around your initials he had tattooed on his thumb. Tiny cartoon characters danced across his hand and he realized he was overreacting.

He got up to go after you and caught you walking slowly to the dining room. He came up behind you and slipped a hand on your lower hip. "I'm sorry, baby." Taeil sighed and kissed your cheek warmly.

You shook your head and leaned into him. "No, I shouldn't have kept going when you said to stop. I'm sorry." You confided as you both turned into the room where everyone was already seated. "Here, how about this," he whispered. "Eat a little bit of food then me and you can go out for burgers after everyone leaves." He said and the look on your face gave him the energy to get through the next hour and a half.

"Really?" You asked and he nodded. You grabbed his face and gently kissed his cheek. "Now you have my seal of approval." You laughed as you rubbed the faint mark of lipstick off of his face.

You sat down ready to shove down the nasty fish eggs and wine that was about to be served.

Johnny

Nobody understood how Johnny got you to be his wife. Everyone thought that the differences would've drowned out the connection. Yet, anybody who doubted was silenced when they spent an hour with you both. The strongness of Johnny seemed minimalized whenever you walked into the room. It was quite magical.

You and Johnny sat on the 127 squad jet, bound towards New York where you both would be staying for 3 months for protection. The family was threatened with the wives and partners coming under the harshest threats.

Johnny took you and didn't look back. You were working an 18-hour shift at the hospital and he came with no warning. Just grabbed you and left.

Jaehyun and his wife were on the way to Connecticut while Mark and his girlfriend were on their way to New York too. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun were to meet in New York in their respective spaces to set out a plan of action. After that, Mark would spend a month in New York, then go up to Toronto, spending his last months in Vancouver. Johnny is splitting the trip up into half in New York, the rest in Chicago. Jaehyun was taking his chances by staying in Connecticut. Yet, he said he wouldn't hesitate running West if needed.set out a plan of action. The sudden news threw you off guard.

You sat with Johnny in the back of the plane in dead silence. "I'm scared." You admitted. "Why?" He asked as he turned his phone off and threw it on the table in front of both of you.

You curled up on the couch next to him, latching onto his arm protectively. "Nothing is going to happen, sweetie." He came up to twirl your hair calmly as your heart started to race more. It was too quiet.

"Here, let's find something to do." He sighed and stood up, rummaging through the closets and storage of the plane. In a moment he returned with a pack of markers. "No paper." He frowned and sat back down with a tired sigh.

You reached forward to bring the thin cardboard box into your hands. You felt his hand rest on the small of your back as you pulled the markers out and twirled them in-between your fingers.

You looked to him to see his head leaned back and eyes shut. You grabbed his suit jacket and tugged. His head snapped up and it took him a minute to understand what you were getting at. "Oh." He sighed and shook the material off of his torso.

A simple t-shirt had been hidden underneath his blazer as you laid your eyes on his tattoos. He didn't have any hesitation as he rolled up his already short sleeves and got comfortable.

He was preoccupied with his phone as you hummed to yourself. You traced the sunflower in green and made tie-dye art on his forearms. Johnny was content with the silence and the fact he knew that you were okay and occupied.

"Wanna listen to some music, babe?" He asked as he opened his music app. "Duh." He clicked the playlist you had made for him and laughed as he watched you sing terribly into the marker. He studied your figure and facial expressions as you got caught up in coloring again. "This dragon is now going to have whiskers." You nodded but stopped quickly. "Or a mustache?" You looked at Johnny and he shrugged. "He'd look cute with some whiskers." You took the idea and plopped whiskers on the face of the dragon.

An associate who tagged along for the trip came into the back room with refreshments for the two of you. You both gladly accepted and were left alone again. "Gummy bears?" These are perfect. He threw the package at you but it went untouched as you kept drawing.

He could only laugh to himself as he opened the package for you and pulled a singular bear out. Johnny held it to your lips and was happy to you take it without much thought. You finally were happy with your artistic decisions and showed Johnny the finished piece.

"It's so nice, y/n!" He smiled and it felt like your brain was mush. You sat next to him with a content smile and a small yawn.

"Tired already?" at which you could only shrug as a response. "Then let's just watch some videos and relax." He kicked his feet up and pulled you so you were on his lap.

Johnny's phone played random videos as you latched onto him and went to sleep. He took some photos to set as his wallpaper and ultimately decided to join you in a nice nap.

(rrruuudddeee)

~~~

Yuta

"Yuta!" You called as you stepped into the large house. "I believe he's in the gazebo or his office, Miss." One of the worked associates greeted you at the front door. He grabbed the bags from your arms as you bowed politely. "Thank you so much." You were off towards the back of the house to find your husband.

"Yuta-!" You called as you rounded the corner of the house and into the back yard. The gazebo that laid just beyond the wood bridge that sat above the koi fish river-- was empty. You stopped and stared for a moment. You were sure that this is where he'd be.

"Up here, my love." A voice made you jump as you looked up to see Yuta at his office balcony. "Oh. Hi!" You waved as his eyes squinted in a smile. "How was your day out?" He asked as he brought his teacup up to his lips. "It was wonderful! I have something to show you!" You called and held up a small shopping bag in your hand. "I'll be right up!" You raced back into the house and up the stairs to where he already stood waiting for you in the doorway to his office.

"What's so amazing that you found today?" His eyebrow raised and you opened the bag quickly. "But first-" He interrupted you as he grabbed your face gently and gave you a passionate kiss. "What's this for?" You asked as he continued to stare at your face lovingly. "Just happy to see you is all." He smiled as his hands found their way into his pockets.

"Now, show me." He motioned to one of your hands that was stuck in the bag you held. You were brought back to reality and pulled the plastic package out of the bag.

"...Markers?" He asked and his tone of voice made you laugh. "Not just any markers. They're tattoo markers. They're safe for the skin." You corrected him and he rolled his eyes. "You're still on this?" Yuta asked with an amused expression. "Of course I am! This was the deal." You said shoving them into his hands so he could inspect the box.

He read the back and he had to admit...you were right.

"You said I could color your tattoos IF I found tattoo markers. Safe for the skin and everything!" He knew you did it...and that he had to hold up his part of the deal. "Okay fine." He sighed as he handed the package back. "Yay! Thank you!" You jumped and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"We can do it later before dinner." He agreed and watched you skip happily down the hall.

---- "Finally! You take forever." You sighed as you moved your sunglasses up your nose. The grass tickled your bare legs as Yuta sat next to you. "I couldn't help it. Taeyong didn't want to hang up the phone." You stood on your knees and moved behind Yuta. Your hands gently rubbed his shoulders as his head fell in an exasperated manner.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Yuta. But, I called you out here for the deal. Not a massage." He whined as he flopped down on the grass, his t-shirt lifting on his back. His head rested on his folded arms as you silently cheered.

"If this stains, I will make sure to throw out all color in your life. Your life will be a dull kaleidoscope-" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, you big baby." You laughed and opened your pouch full of the tattoo markers.

You lifted the back of his shirt more till the full picture was revealed. A full mural was printed on his back with black ink that curved and straightened out into different objects. A dragon with demons following was the full picture...a dark reality...that you were going to make colorful.

You sat on his lower back and got to work filling in the different parts of the dragon. Every once in awhile he would spasm and try to make you mess-up. Yet, with a tug on his hair, he would become limp and obedient again.

"I'm almost done." Was the phrase that almost made him weep with joy. "Finally." He let it slip and he felt a tug on his hair again. "Ow." He rubbed his head. He could feel you draw and move the felt-tipped weapons on his back.

"Finished." You cheered and grabbed his phone to take a picture. You showed it to him and ombre scaled decorated the dragon with the demon's faces were colored red and blue. It looked nice. He saw a couple of smiley faces hidden in there and felt like everything looked complete.

"Okay, my turn now!" He yelled and grabbed your arm. He pulled you to the ground and grabbed the black marker that was in your hand. "Yuta, no." You tried fighting him. "This wasn't apart of the deal." You thrashed but he pinned you under his body weight. "Excuse me? Sorry, I don't speak Japanese." His Korean rambled off quickly from his tongue. You decided to just deal with it as he took his time drawing a mustache on your face along with random doodles he could think of.

He finally stopped his antics and took a picture with his phone to look at afterward. "You look so cute, look!" He pulled up the picture and shoved it in your face. "I look gross man!" You ridiculed but he wrapped you up in his arms quickly,

"My gross man."

Doyoung

"I thought they were going to be here already." You whined as your head hit the wall behind you. "Oh, can you stop whining for once?" He groaned as he took off his bulletproof vest. The air seemed to be getting thinner as the seconds ticked past. He stretched his legs out so they touched the opposite wall of the tiny bank vault. The velvet flooring seemed sticky as it felt like your chest was getting heavier.

You stood up and went to the closed door. Kicking and banging seemed like the only viable option. You pounded and kicked as hard and as much as you could with no luck. Tears stained your eyes as you turned around to look for another option out of here. "It's getting smaller." You whispered and Doyoung took the opportunity. "You're right, y/n. I can feel the walls pushing in!" He yelled and started to thrash and roll around on the ground. You could swear that the walls were shrinking and coming closer together. You dropped to the floor with your hands over your head, ready to be crushed by the vault walls.

Doyoung was pissed and vengeful in the beginning but now he just felt bad. You sat there silently crying as you rocked yourself back and forth. Doyoung sat opposite of you and just stared, waiting for you to snap out of it, yet, there was no hope as he watched you bring your legs closer to your chest.

He pushed your shoulder and you backed away from him quickly. "Calm down. You're wasting our air." He deadpanned. You could only nod and wipe the tears away from your eyes.

"Wanna play tic-tac-toe?" He asked and you looked around, surprised he was asking in a moment like this. "Um-" He didn't wait for an answer and grabbed your legs-- pulling you closer to where he sat.

Doyoung reached into your vest you were wearing and pulled an assortment of permanent markers out. You wiped the rest of your tears and grabbed the orange marker out of his hand. He lifted the sleeve of his long shirt and created the grid in black ink. "Wanna go first?" He asked and you took the opportunity to land an 'X' in the grid.

He followed soon after you and in no time-- he won.

Another game and another and another till no space was left. An hour had passed and you were still stuck in the bank vault.

"Fine. You win this tournament. But, I know I'll win next time." Doyoung said laying back and closing his eyes. The sweat from his bangs dripped down the side of his face.

The bottom of his shirt lifted and you could see the familiar black ink on his side. "Stop staring at me like that, pervert. I have rights." He pulled his shirt down and you let a laugh rip through your chest.

"Chill. I was just looking at your tattoo." You said and he shrugged. "What about 'em?" He asked as his eyes closed once more. "Nothing. Just looking," you sighed, "I wanted to be a tattoo artist before all of this." You motioned around the velvet interior. One eye peeked open and he looked suspiciously at your figure. "Are you any good?"

You stood on your knees and lifted your shirt so he could see the piece you were in the middle of finishing. Dragon and koi fish laid on your ribs in red ink.

"Woah." He lifted himself closer and gently touched the healing ink. "You did this yourself?" You nodded as he inspected it for a good minute.

"Give me one!" He said and shoved the red sharpie in your hand. He didn't give you time before laying on his side in a straight line. He lifted the side of his shirt and waited patiently.

You shrugged, finding nothing else better to do. He already had black ink staining his skin so you decided to add on. It was another simple dragon but it fit his character and personality perfectly.

Time seemed to slow as he tried to take a sneak peek of the masterpiece you were currently working on. He planned to take a picture later and get it done, yet, it would have to be in secret.

All of a sudden, the door popped open and cool air filled the small compartment. "Welcome back to Earth." Chenle greeted. You capped the marker and grabbed your vest as quickly as Doyoung.

You both high-tailed it out of the bank and into the street where the van was waiting with open doors. Doyoung and you jumped and rolled onto the back-ground of the van and the door was slammed shut by Jaehyun.

"Sorry about that. Jungwoo spilled Sprite on the control panel." Jaehyun explained and a guilty-looking Jungwoo sat in the passenger seat, not making eye contact.

"Woah. You got a new tattoo?" Jaehyun lifted Doyoung's shirt up more to see the red dragon you had drawn.

"Eventually."

(tf is this?? i’m not even correlating the gif with the story...because what in the actual fuck is THIS????)

~~~~~

Jaehyun

He was a very demanding man with particular tastes. You sat by yourself in your underground shop when a swarm of men came in all at once. They lead the way for a man in a sharp business suit.

I'm about to get shut down...aren't I?

He looked at you for a moment before looking around and coming towards you. "Are you the shop owner?" His voice was smooth with undertones of threatening. "Depends on who's asking," I answered honestly, "If it's for ink work or compliments: me. If you have any problems then I'll turn you over to my manager, Lucifer." You wiped down the glass counter in front of you. His chuckle rang sliced through the thick tension.

"Lucifer." You sang and made kissy noises. A long black haired cat hopped onto the glass counter next to you, hissing at the men and laying on its back. His back stretched as his paws grew long and pointy nails only for a moment. "Oh be nice, Luci." You called and picked the cat up in your arms.

"So how can we help you today?" You smiled and the man looked at you and sighed. "This will do." He called over his shoulder and you heard a bang of your shop door. Men walked around you to your workroom and began going through your papers. "Do you have any affiliations with any gangs in the local or surrounding areas?" The man asked as you dropped the cat onto the glass.

"No." You blurted and it was met with a smile. "Well, you have caught the interest of Neo Culture-" "Oh hell no." You shook your head and came around the counter. You pointed towards the staircase that was capped with the 'exit' door. "Leave." You demanded, yet, he stood still.

"I don't think you understand how this works." His smile made you shiver. "You were picked. You can't just...refuse." He motioned to the room. "You are on Neo Culture property and territory. You will work for us in exchange for a pretty...hefty amount of cash-" "And a bullet in my head if another gang comes by?" You questioned with your arms crossed over your chest. "Well, you don't need to worry about that till they show up...do you?" His reasoning made you angry.

"I just want a simple fill-in today. And if you do well, then you'll be taken care of." He went into his coat pocket and pulled out a stack of paper. "Rent, bills, groceries, and spending money. Not to mention guaranteed protection from the most feared crime family in the Asiatic continent." He smiled as he handed over the piece of paper.

You looked at it and it was of a dragon that needed to be shaded and filled in. You knew that you needed to do this...or say bye-bye to your shop and dreams.

You sighed and looked at Lucifer who sat grooming himself.

"It's all clear, sir." One of the men popped his head out of the back curtain. The man smiled at you and stuck out his hand. "Do we have a deal?" He asked and you regretted the decision as you felt your hand reach itself out in front of you. "Deal." You sighed and you lead him back to the workroom.

He made himself comfortable as he draped his jacket across the waiting chair and unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his business shirt until a blank tattoo was shown on the front section of his ribs.

You got yourself ready off of what the paper described. Black and red shading with a black streak thrown across the dragon's eyes. 1-2-7 was bent across the dragon's stomach as 5 stars surrounded the head of the dragon mimicking a crown.

"Lucifer. Out." You called and the cat meow'd before walking out of the curtain. "Want to listen to music while I work?" You asked and he shook his head 'no' as he preoccupied himself on his phone.

You worked quickly and efficiently as he didn't dare look at your work.

2 hours went by and you were done. "Finished." You said standing up and disposing of the used needles. He stood up and looked into the body-length mirror on the other side of the room. "Woah." Was all you heard.

"This is good work." He said and you awkwardly smiled while coming closer to him with saniderm and healing gel. "Take off the saniderm underwater, so I suggest a shower and apply the gel gently. Change the saniderm at the same time tomorrow then after that you can wait up to 6 days after to change." You explained as you rubbed the gel on the tattoo and stuck a big square of saniderm on his torso.

"Why, thank you,-" "y/n." You cut him off and you could see him smile as you turned away.

"Nice name." He smiled, "Thanks...I guess." You shrugged. "Well, some other members will be in for some days to come. Money has already been left under your counter." He redressed as you cleaned up your station.

"I hope to see you soon, y/n." He smiled and walked off in an eerie aura. You heard your shop door open and close.

You rested your hands on your counter and let a huge sigh escape your chest. Meow.

You looked over to see Lucifer peeking his head in.

"I know. He was really weird."

(back tf up?? in the middle of a pandemic??)

~~~~~

Jungwoo

"Stop running away from me you tree!" You leaped from the couch and onto your boyfriend's back. "No! You'll never catch me!" He tried to shake you off of him, yet, you latched onto him as tight as you could.

"Damn your koala grip." He tried to swing his body around and throw you to the ground. Your hands went to cover his eyes as you began to panic. "Quit moving so fast!" You pleaded and he stopped abruptly. You scrambled off of his back and just sat with your legs outstretched on the floor.

You looked up at him with a look that could kill. "Just let me have fun." You pushed yourself off the floor and pointed a finger in his face. "You can. Just not on me." He moved your hand away from his face.

You groaned and sat on the couch in a huff. "You're no fun, Woo." You muttered and he couldn't help but smile at your pouty nature.

"Sure. Whatever you say, cutie." He said excusing himself down the hall. You heard the door to the bedroom close and you were left alone. You were going to color those damn tattoos even if it killed you. You turned on the TV and watched some shows. 40 minutes had passed and you knew that Jungwoo had to be asleep.

You snuck to the closet by the kitchen and threw the door open to find the bucket of markers. You grabbed your favorite out of the selection and were off down the hall.

The door was silent as you swung it open quickly. Jungwoo laid passed out on top of the sheets. His arms were folded underneath his head as you watched his chest rise and fall slowly...in a serene manner...but it was too calm. Chaos and fun were needed.

Tip-toeing was your best option as you swiftly made yourself over. You watched his eyes roam the inside of his eyelids as you realized he was completely knocked out.

You crawled on your space of the bed and uncapped the marker with a slight struggle. The pop made Jungwoo's eyelids squeeze and release quickly.

Your heart was filled with a mischievous attitude as you softly traced along the stars that were placed on his inner bicep. Pinks and oranges were plopped onto his skin as he laid unconscious.

A couple of cartoon characters and messages later you were bored. "Guess you are right. I really do have the mind of a goldfish." You mused quietly as you closed the marker and shoved them off the bed.

You laid across Jungwoo's torso and rolled onto him so he could wake-up. "It's like watching a toddler, I swear." He groaned as he grabbed you and didn't let go.

"I could've sworn that coloring would've kept you busy for at least an hour." He sighed and you just looked at him as if he had grown 5 heads. "I'm not stupid, y/n. Don't look at me like that." Jungwoo laughed and pinched your cheek.

He held onto your waist with one arm as he examined what you had drawn on the other. "Awe they're so cute." He mused and you looked at your work once more.

"Can I get a tattoo?" You asked and he only looked at you. "Do what you feel is right, but please...please think it through." He sighed and held onto you with both hands.

"Deal."

(ooo...fluffy looking jungwoo)

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moonlightjeno · 4 years ago

Text

ten things and then some | l.j

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: jeno x reader 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞 :: based on the poem from 10 things i hate about you if you haven’t watched it fo yourself a favor and go watch the movie bc it’s a m a z i n g. ty 𝕨𝕔 :: 15.5k this is the longest thing i’ve ever written wow. 𝕒/𝕟 :: y’all jeno fits the concept to this p e r f e c t l y, and no i am not being biased :) and a massive massive thank you to @smoljh for helping me and giving me feedback, you’re the sweetest. and ofc to my soulmate girl yk i love you to the moon and back, and i hope you enjoy this piece @mangotexts ( truly the best hype woman anyone could ask for ).

everything in bold is part of the poem, from “10 things i hate about you”

I hate the way you talk to me,

Sweetheart. love. angel. The words that spin from his mouth every time you hear him talk to you, made you aggravated. It was a constant stream of words that had begun as a prick of annoyance. Every time, he opened his mouth, looking at you with his dark brown eyes.

“Earth to y/n” the snapping of fingers disrupts your train of thought, eyes glancing back to the dark-haired boy on the other side of the school grounds, before landing back on your friend.

“What?” the words slip from your mouth with disinterest, a lack of concern for whatever your friend had been rambling on about for the past five minutes. The small amount of conversation you’d registered was she’d been talking about a party that johnny suh, school alumni, and constant talk around school grounds were throwing as a “welcome to the end of high school”. Though as parties went, you were almost sure that it would encompass school graduates, seniors, and the occasional sophomores and freshmen that would manage to sneak their way in, eyes glittering with excitement as they entered their first high school party.

“Are you coming?” her words were drawn out as if she’d ask you five times before, she might have, and it was only now that you had finally heard the question. The question slightly baffles you, because everyone in school knew you didn’t go to parties since freshman year.

“Uh, no. you know what i think of parties, they’re a waste. An excuse for seniors to think they're above everyone else, as they tell off the younger students that they’ve deemed aren’t ‘cool’ or mature enough, while the freshman walks around with some sort of desperate hope in their eyes as if the world will drastically change if they show up at a senior party. Someone should tell them” you say, looking past your friend whose excited smile has dimmed to a small frown, eyes slightly annoyed, something that doesn’t surprise you at this point. It isn’t a secret what you think of parties either, even if you are best friends with the queen of parties herself. You stop yourself before your eyes have a change of drifting to the brown-haired boy with a leather jacket that tends to sit by the foot of the football field, whom you can’t seem to find, probably smoking the thought is bitter and places a scowl on your face before you look back at your friend, “nothing changes''.

“Just once, one time is all i ask of you” the pleas that come from your friend make you focus on her, her hair is loose ruffled by the light wind that has blown over the course of your conversation. It’s almost enough for you to agree to go to the stupid party, when you see her glance towards mark lee, the boy she’s been crushing on for as long as you’ve known her. It hadn’t surprised you, that she’d fallen for him, when you saw him. The boy who made most girls swoon, but who had somehow managed to beat all the stereotypes of “hot” because mark was also talented, more than you’d like to admit when it came to music, he’d helped you a couple of times when you’d been stuck on a composition, always a smile on his face. so when she glanced towards him, the glittering in her eyes and rose tainted cheeks as mark looked back, flashing a small smile, you couldn’t help but give in.

“I’m going to regret this,” you say, the words a mix of a grunt and an exasperated sigh, but your friend is almost jumping up and down, giving you a quick hug and promising that you wouldn’t regret it, not at all, you’d have the greatest time before she was turning around a skip in her step. A smile graces your face at your friend’s happiness, and it remains there unfaltering until you hear “hello love”

Brown hair made its way into your view, as jeno’s face presented itself in front of you, a cocky smile grazing his features that made your smile falter and eventually turn into a scowl.

“What” the word isn’t a question, more like a complaint as you try to turn around and head in the opposite direction, away from jeno and his sweet words. But his voice trails behind you only a couple of steps away before he’s next to you leather jacket glaring against the end of the summer sun, and you wonder only for a second how he isn’t passing out from the heat.

“Oh come on angel, a lil smile wouldn’t kill you” his words are filled with a tone you can only describe as intolerable, making you slightly gag.

“A smile wouldn’t kill me, but i might kill you” you smile at him, a grin adorning your features, “luv” the words that left your mouth are meant to push jeno away and have him leave you alone, but the boy is persistent and though his smirk falters slightly at the glare you give him, the grin is up and running again as he stops in front of you.

“And then who would you have to glare and fight with luv?” the moment the words leave his mouth he turns away, proud of his line. The dumbass, you think, insults quickly forming in your head and ready to be thrown out towards him but your phone pings, and you thumb it open. The message “see you at the party angel” makes your blood boil slightly, but you can’t hide the way your cheeks slightly turn red and the smile that slowly grazes your face before you make a vulgar gesture to the sweet mouthed boy, and turn away.

As much as you hated to admit, you looked forward to the party only just slightly more than you did five minutes ago, the small nicknames swarming around your head.

And the way you cut your hair.

The too-loud music and blinding lights that could be heard and seen from multiple blocks away, and you almost stopped in your tracks, ready to turn around and head back home. But a pull from your friend as she squealed in excitement at maybe having a chance with mark managed to keep your feet moving towards the flashing lights.

Strong alcohol, tequila, or vodka is something you’re hoping they have at the party so that you can attempt to get away from the sex-craved teenagers that are lined up against the walls, pushing against each other. Just walking into the house, and the stench of cigarettes, weed, and sweat floats through the air almost enough to make you gag, as your nose scrunches up at the sight and smell.

Drinks are set far too far from the entrance of the house, the kitchen seems to be miles away not close enough for your liking until you finally reach it. Johnny, black-haired slicked back, the sunflower tattoo on his forearm a stark contrast to the leather jacket he wears and it makes you smile just slightly at the different personalities the dark-haired boy has. Yet you can’t deny his loud and extravagant personality as he talks from person to person whether senior or freshman, making drinks, even if some of the spillover the sides, you sit by one of the stools ready to get a mixed drink of whatever the alumni is able to concoct before getting the courage and energy to head back into the party and socialize with people you really have no interest in socializing.

In the short minute that it takes johnny to get your drink, the lemon drink shot with a strong tequila is set in front of you just as your friend has left you with the only warning being a sharp look, as she smiled to a brown-haired boy that you can only presume to be Mark, by the way, her face flushes, and she takes a swig from the drink in her hand before leaving you, and you yell a sharp “go get em” before gulping down the liquid inside the red solo cup.

Alcohol you’d forgotten burned down your throat, it’s lingering sharp and bitter taste leaving a tang in your mouth as it traveled down your mouth. You forget that the effect of the drink doesn’t come into effect a little later, where you are jumping up and down on the table, dancing from side to side as the music pumps through your blood and body. You won’t be able to tell that it’s the alcohol that you’d sworn you wouldn’t drink unless surrounded by friends, but most definitely not in a social gathering, that makes you jump from table to table and grab other’s next you as you dance with them. Hair slightly plastered to your face from the sweat, and though you’re dancing your words are slightly fuzzy from the multiple drinks you’d had from random tables you’d pass by.

A sharp tug and pull gets you off the current table and you begin to complain, wanting to continue to let loose to the rhythm of some constant beat song that sounds all too vaguely familiar to your ears, but the arms that are wrapped around you feel oddly warm and comfortable and the protest die slightly on your lips as you turn around to see who’s holding onto you.

Dark brown hair, almost black frames the boy’s face perfectly and you want to run your fingers through it. Some sense of longing for love and being loved passes through you, and now you’ve realized how drunk you truly are as you push down the emotions of attraction to the boy in front of your face showing only the traces of what would be a smile if he wasn’t so concerned for your safety.

“y/n?” the boy asks, and you’re still in a light haze of alcohol that buzzes through your skin and blood making everything fuzzy that you can’t quite picture whose face it is in front of you, whose voice that is soft and gentle towards you and sounds so familiar, to which you only manage to nod your head slightly hair falling in front of your eyes as you smile. It’s small, fluttering, and the boy in front of you smiles too, as he repeats your name, and then the words that leave his mouth make him click into place.

“y/n? Luv? How much have you had?” The word luv, makes you push away from the strong arms that hold you, the classic leather jacket that tends to adorn his body has somehow managed to be wrapped around you, and you realize that you are no longer inside the house with loud music. Instead the music and flashing lights have been replaced by trees and twinkling lights that flash in the dark sky and the distant background of loud music that is too low for your ears to register anything more than a constant drone. Your smile has been replaced by a scowl, and you grunt at the jacket you’re wearing, hating to admit that it’s warm and comforting. You try to speak, the words a slur before you hurl, holding onto your stomach as the content of your lunch and too much alcohol are spilled on the grass floor in front of you.

The acid from your stomach burns your tongue, a bitter taste seems to linger even as you chug down the water that jeno offers you, a small smile gracing his features. And you blame the alcohol, but you smile back at him, and can’t think that maybe he isn’t as bad as you thought he was. You can’t shake the feeling of his hand wrapped around your waist, another holding up your hair as you hurled, and coughed no mocking grin or satisfactory smirk making their way onto his face. Instead a small smile was present, his dark hair that you finally admitted to yourself, made him look hot, was tousled and messy by the wind and it looked cute.

You blame the day’s events and the words that were thrown at you at the beginning of the party making you head straight to the intoxicating drinks. You blame the chemicals that are still in your system, as you sit on the grass dragging jeno to sit next to you, hand intertwined with his. The grass that is cool against your touch, making your skin feel less hot, less sticky, and more conscious. You blame the alcohol and everything it changes in your core, for letting you lean your head against jeno’s shoulder, as his arm wraps around your shoulders pulling you in only slightly, scared to scare you away. You most definitely blame the alcohol as the words that fall from your mouth as you hold onto jeno’s calloused hand.

“I like it” the words are a mumble, whispered into the night air, and it causes jeno to turn just slightly his lips almost touching the crown of your head, “like what?” he whispers back, and you can almost swear a small kiss is placed on the crown of your head.

“Luv”

I hate the way you drive my car.

It seems that the stars want you to hate jeno more than you already do, as he half carries you half drags you to your parked car. The moon shines on the car surfaces mixing in with the dull yellow lights from the evenly spaced streetlights. You wished that you could walk straight, but you still stumble a little, your steps not sturdy until jeno has placed his arm around your waist lifting you up, that you manage to walk to the old vintage car that is parked under one of the dimmed out streetlights.

The sequence of opening the door and you get inside the car occurs in a slight blur, but you find yourself on the passenger seat, head resting against the cool window that makes you jump slightly from the contact. It isn’t until you turn your head as the engine roars to life underneath you that you see jeno by the wheel, adjusting the rear view mirrors to his height and gripping the steering wheel.

Time seemed to stop as you lay in the grass, head tucked in between jeno’s shoulder and his head. It stopped when the last words that had left your mouth had made jeno’s smile widen and his eyes match the moon that shone brightly above the two of you. The droning music has stopped, flashing lights no longer as constant as they were when you had first dragged jeno into the cool grass. In that position did you two lay for hours, a comfortable understanding and silence settling between the two of you until your breaths became constant and your eyes had begun to droop threatening to close that jeno shook you lightly. The only response he got was a small humm that you were still awake, as he pulled you up and started to make your way to the car. Something that seemed almost impossible as jeno had absolutely no idea where the fuck your car was and you didn’t seem to quite remember in your hald drunken half sober very much about to fall asleep state.

Jeno could have almost jumped from joy when he’d seen your eyes brighten up at the sight of a beat-up old red mustang, and you pointed towards it. The moment he had opened the passenger door you had climbed inside curling up next to the door like a cat, and he couldn’t help but think that you were adorable, even when you snapped at him for taking your keys. It was a different side of you that he’d never seen, and he doubted many people did see. One where you weren’t putting on a sort of facade of hating everything around you, but instead you let your eyes relax holding a sort of brightness and glow jeno hadn’t seen before but now couldn’t stop himself from looking at. Stop, jeno scolded himself as he turned to look at the road, car roaring to life.

“Nu-uh” you grunted at seeing jeno aggressively change gears, “stop being so aggressive,” you say as you sit up. The smile that adorned jeno’s face turns into a grin, as he continues to aggressively switch gears as he turns the corner, and you regret ever thinking he was kind.

“My car doesn’t deserve this” you grunt out, and jeno chuckles looking at you from the side, and he loosens his grip slightly on the gear stick.

“You mean my presence? I’m gonna have to agree, sweetheart” you’re not sure if it’s the light trace of chemicals that still surround your brain, or if you’ve really wanted to do this for a while but you don’t stop your fist as it punches jeno in the arm.

“The fuck” leaves jeno’s lips, as he rubs his arm where you’d hit him and you do a little dance on your seat, “don’t hurt my car dumbass” is your only answer before you continue to laugh at the face of confusion and mocked hurt that jeno fakes.

Your laugh rings around the car, and echoes through the street, as the windows at some point where rolled down. The way jeno looks confused makes you laugh harder, and he turns just slightly, his eyes narrow and eyebrows slightly scrunches, and he looks like a confused dog. Alcohol might have made you hit him, but you can’t fathom why you would be laughing at jeno, no not at him but with him as his laugh has joined yours as he drives the car down the street. The ridiculousness of the night catches up with, making you hold onto your stomach as jeno parks into your driveway smile never faltering.

From the way, both of your eyes shine from joy and amusement one could almost swear that the two of you were friends, almost lovers by the way jeno looked at you. But no one was looking at two in the morning, and no one can be there to tell you that the way you two look at each other is in a new way. No gazes filled with mocked sympathy or non-wanted flirtatious remarks, instead, you two seem to gaze into each other’s eyes for what seems too long if it weren’t that neither of you seemed to mind.

And because you are still slightly tipsy, and the stars and moon make jeno look like some sort of angel as his hair is illuminated by a white light, that lights up his face making his eyes a warmer brown that they usually are that you think about opening up yourself to him. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think, maybe just maybe the nicknames he gives you make you feel a flutter because he could be someone to trust.

Possibilities for the maybes and wants to fill your head, and you don’t realize your eyes have fluttered shut and you are leaning in only slightly a sway towards where jeno is until you feel his hand on your shoulder stopping you, a pitiful gaze grazes his features and you are almost sure you want to go crawl in a hole. Instead, you push him back, opening the car door and slamming it behind you, chin held up as you walk back towards your house, the water in your eyes threatening to spill. But you manage to make it, as you walk into your house, and slam the door behind you the words “maybe not now” replaying in your head, because why the fuck would he actually like you.

You don’t notice when you go to sleep music blasting from your headphones that you’ve wrapped yourself in the leather jacket that smells slightly of cat and boy, the lingering stench of cigarettes and fire from the jacket given to you by the boy who had managed to hold your heart for only a second.

I hate it when you stare.

in and out. Your breaths match the classes metronome, a constant beat to keep your breaths even and focused on whatever the teacher is saying, which happens to be the importance of pentatonic scales when composing a new song. He drones on about the way modern pop music isn’t really music and that the same fours chords and rhythmic patterns are used over and over again with a slight variety to them. You would have looked around the class, taking in the beautiful instruments that are set on display around the class, most of them hanging on hooks and nicks that cause the brass instruments to gleam in the classroom light. Admiring the way the guitars were filed neatly, basses next to them and the small ukuleles that the school's “hipsters” would pretend to play every so often at the talent shows. Some of the guitars and ukuleles were decorated by the art classes, the flowers blooming from one end to the other making it impossible to tell the difference between where the original brandished wood begins and ends. It almost seems at times like the flowers in full bloom are consuming the wood, taking away its air and nutrients that then allow the students to play melodica tunes without the professor yelling at them to tune their instruments. You would be admiring the piano that lay at the front of the class where your professor is currently pacing back and forth, his hands waving in grandiose gestures that make you cough an attempt to hide the rising laughter in your throat. The piano that you’d heard most of the students in the class play and almost lull everyone to tears or sleep depending on who it was, as the keys would rise and fall with each stroke.

Admire. Stare at the instrument you longed to strum and let out the bundle of emotions that were piled up in your stomach, taught and knotted together waiting to be untang;ed by the strum and finger pattern of the acoustic guitar. That’s what you would be doing if you weren’t slightly interested in the way that your professor was taking down and criticizing modern day music which you could only nod your head too, agreeing with most of his points. The rest of your class seemed to be disgusted, their faces shriveling and eyes rolling to the back of their heads.

“Well yeah, music today doesn’t, well shouldn’t really constitute for “real” music. It shouldn’t be dictated by a constant talk of sex and the drugs, what about the power in music? The way that it is in itself a universal language?” you speak out of turn, your arm coming down slightly aching from having to hold it up for so long with no acknowledgment. The moment you speak you can almost feel the class sigh and grunt, their heads dropping slightly.

“Now miss y/n” his voice is grainy and unpleasant, but you nod, eyes defiant at whatever critique will come your way even if you just agreed with your professors point of view, “did i ask for your opinion on the universal language and power it has on your feelings”

“Well no but-”

“No buts” you want to roll your eyes and flip him off, and decide to do both as you sigh, “not like you’d understand what that is” you mumble loud enough for your the boy at your right to hear you and his mouth falls slightly open, and you roll your eyes flipping him off as he turns around facing the scribbled blackboard.

You can feel eyes staring at you, analyzing the way you bite onto the top of your pen or how you doodle across the margin of your paper, random notes and lyrics that pop into your head as your professor drones on and on about the theory of music. It’s a pity you think that it’s those eyes that make you want to stand up and hit someone, those eyes that seem to want to dig a whole through your brain are what cause the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach every-time you turn around.

in and out. The metronome beeps constant again, and you loosen the grip on your pencil. Turning around slowly before locking gaze with jeno, who seems startled, you turned around and looked at him in the first place. Replaced is the mocking grin by a sheepish smile, and you can almost swear there’s a speck of guilt in his brown eyes as he looks at you with a small pleading look until you flip him off, mouthing the words “fuck you” into the air. But he seems to register them as he breaks the contact, eyes darkening and head bowing down just slightly, making a small smile graces your features.

Tick tick tick - ring. The bell goes off and you can’t seem to get up and out of your seat quick enough, following pursuit of the other students that have already packed and are counting down the seconds until class is over. You’re almost at the door, fingers stretching to reach the handle when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, a brush of your hair to the side, as you swirl around. You bite down the curse that is about to slip through your lips as your professor stands in front of you an amused smile on his face as he tells you that even though you’re an exemplary student you should tone down on the whole “power to the people” role you hold and you have to stop yourself from turning around and walking away. “Uh sure…” you are ready to leave, feet beginning to turn but your professor isn’t done and he holds you back telling you about the inconveniences of being a teacher at this day and age and you wonder what the man had wanted to be if not a teacher but the question and pity are quickly erased when he tells you that you about the end of the year assignment, “a project of sorts” he drawls, one hand stroking the light beard that sticks in odd patchy places around his face. “that will test what you’ve learned this year” you say nothing, waiting for what the punch the goal of the assignment is, “a song based off shakespeare’s sonnets”

You don’t have time to clap and jump from joy at the assignment and thank your professor before the fire alarm goes off and you are walking towards the football field. You don’t have the time to register the way people are looking at you, the way jeno is staring at you with a goofy smile and hopeful eyes as the intro chords play to i.f.l.y by bazzi and he gazes towards the crows that has gathered around him, eyes finding yours.

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

The clunk of boots against the aluminium causes the bleachers to shake slightly, a vibration of clashing echoing through the field as it mixes in with jeno’s voice. The dark haired boy that scares the school away on most days bounces along from one side of the bleachers to the other.

You can feel the warmth spread to your cheeks, the heat spreading through your body and you shake your head slightly at whatever is going because you truly aren’t quite sure. The only thing you know is that it seems to be the whole school’s eyes are darting from you to jeno, who can’t seem to take his eyes off even as he jumps from one row of bleachers to the next the microphone on his hand a he raps along to the lyrics to the song. Lyrics that sound as familiar as a midnight drive and cooling moonlit fields.

The way he conveys the words and raps is not something you hadn’t heard before, you’d heard him speak his poems to you that late night in the midst of summer heat when you had been in a need of escape from the world that surrounded you. The summer heat had been too much, too suffocating that in a whim you’d driven to the highest point in the city. City skyline had been laid before you, the hues of the city changing as the sun slowly dipped itself over the buildings, and it seemed to want to disappear like you did. Slowly, leaving a mark in the world as it reached past the buildings and water that lay far beyond the city, stretching it’s red flames that would slowly flicker and turn into different hues of pink and purple. It was mesmerizing, a way to get away as the sun went down and the moon shone brighter than the city lights, no amount of light pollution that littered the air enough to you were in your own world. Your mind travelled to that safe and peaceful place that would only come out when you were surrounded by the twinkle of stars that seemed to flicker hope, while the moon remained a constant reminder of the light in the darkness. That is until the crunch of leaves behind you, a sign of the coming autumn disturbed you from your silent peace.

Moonlight shone on black boots, the combat boots seemed to dull the moonlight, taking away all it’s light by absorbing it as it crunched the leaves underneath them and stopped in front of you. Eyes landed on a hooded figure, their black hoodie being slightly too big, as it drooped over their frame, reaching slightly past their hip, where you could see the tears in the boys jeans, and you hated to admit that the outfit wasn’t bad. The boy’s face wasn’t visible from the shadows caused by the moonlight, but it wasn’t that it mattered as you went back to looking at the city below you, waiting for the boy in front of you to sit down next to you. It would have normally bothered you to be disturbed in what you had claimed to be your “spot” but maybe it was the way the boy held his head down, or the way the stars shone and illuminated portions of his face, maybe it was just that there was a mutual understanding between the two people that had seeked comfort in the middle of the night underneath the stars. For whatever the reason, you stayed next to each other not touching, not leaning against each other but there was a sense of comfort by each other’s presence and a mutual knowledge of what each wanted. The silence was one of comfort, a blanket that seemed to surround the field that two of you sat in, and when the boy with the worn out combat boots began to speak, a light melody and rhythm to his words all you could do was nod along and enjoy the melodic and soothing sound of his voice. His words shocked you, reaching somewhere inside of you that seemed to be dormant for a long long time.

“Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing. But when the stars shine, and the sun goes, Summer becomes a lil less lonely Little less wasted Because when i'm with you Time’s gonna stop”

You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the warm voice that rapped next to, as he talked about lost time and love that seems to be a long lasting one that makes you feel like you’re gonna burst from everything that you feel for them only for them to leave in a quick second. And though you don’t know the boy next to you, you don't know his story, you don’t know why he decided on this very day much like you too climb to the top of the hill and admire the busy world from afar, you know the melody. The song that follows his heart, it’s something out of a movie you think, the way the two of you met, lost souls finding themselves by watching everything around them fade into the dark. You don’t know each other but you do, you know the way his song goes and it’s an understanding beyond words beyond actions as the two of you sit next to each other, hours passed midnight a boy with combat boots that crunch through leaves and a voice with thoughts that seem to connect to everything around you, and you. A lost soul with music in heart, that sways and calms down in the brightening moon of the night, as you give each other mutual company in a field of moonlit flowers, and blinking concrete.

Jeno has made his way down the bleachers, his cheeks are red and you can’t help but feel amused and honored. Because as much as he annoys you and makes you want to hit something you can’t deny the way your heart flutters when he smiles at you as he is doing right now, steps bringing you closer and closer to you, his warned out combat boots make you laugh because you’d never seen him wear anything else. You can feel the anger fade away from the week, anger at him for embarrassing you, anger for not feeling loved like you wanted to be loved, but there was a sort of bond that was formed when the school's resident bad boy decides to sing a love song to someone he’s hurt and cares for. There’s something vulnerable by the way he looks at you, a light in his eyes and embarrassment and all of a sudden he’s in front of you. Faces only centimeters away, his breaths fanning your face slightly, their heavy and uneven but he’s smiling tune slightly off-key as he sings the last verse.

“So I guess what i'm saying” the mic is lowered, and the space between the two becomes your own world. No longer are aware of the hundreds of teenagers surrounding you, some of the whistling others video taping.

“I guess what i'm saying” you hum back, smiles adorning both of your faces,

“I fucking love you”

And the way you read my mind.

It seemed as if the world had suddenly shifted. No longer where you are grounded on earth, goals set to go to the other side of the world away from your family, instead you feel alleviated. Where the ground used to be now there was air, a lightness to your movements and words that weren’t there before. It isn’t that the world suddenly changed, the clouds didn’t suddenly become more bright, the world didn’t suddenly become a bright ball of colors and sunshine.

Falling for someone was based upon the little moments spent together. The way the world seemed to feel a little less heavy, a little less lonely when brown eyes would meet yours, greeting you with a lopsided smile. You had read in books that falling was like falling asleep, slowly and then so quickly that you didn’t even notice the way your heart would take skips when hand touched hand, calloused fingers from constant strumming of a guitar, grazing yours. They say it’s supposed to be too fast for you to notice, as if you were in a dream state that you had fallen into and slowly when your heart is shattered or turned over do you wake up from the dream-like state wishing you had stayed in it. In your opinion falling was neither of those, and it was both.

Falling was being dragged out of an arena, filled with a whole school student body, where laughter trailed behind you as the boy with worn out combat boots took you to the place you first met. It was the way his eyes would light up their dark brown becoming a lighter color, almost matching his honey colored hair when the sun would hit him from behind, when he looked at you while you talked about the project you were working on. Falling seemed to be the way that the first sentences after the boy sang bazzi’s confession song was a banter over why the song was chosen, you two debating which of his songs was better, an ongoing debate whether smile or i.f.l.y was a better show of emotion. The argument lasted the whole car ride, you drove and it hadn’t taken much convincing after you threatened to keep his leather jacket, that you had shoved back at him only previously that morning. It was only a matter of seconds after that conversation, that jeno pride smile on his face opened the passenger's seat to the beat up mustang and let you slightly, well more like lecture him on how to be gentle on the old car. If jeno would have been tested on the way that your hands would flit back and forth, moving from side to side and up and down making grand gestures and soft ones in order to justify and further prove your point, jeno was sure he would ace the test. But if it came to what you were talking about, how he shouldn’t force the car to change gears or how one button should be pressed before the other he would have passed, he loved hearing you talk passionately about anything and as much as he loved to get on your nerves to see you get flustered cheeks growing slightly red, but would have failed on purpose just for you to smack him in the arm. The punch, which he would never admit kinda hurt the first time you’d hit him what seemed like ages ago, but was really only a season ago, had softened and felt now more like a “you’re stupid but i don’t mind it”, it made him smile. Banter that flitted back and forth between the two of you, constant little arguments that weren’t truly arguments but more of a facade at the emotions and hidden feelings that grew between the two of you.

The coming winter air was sharp against your ungloved hand, making you shake it up and down, which only caused jeno to look at you with a confused look.

“You know luv” the nickname no longer made your blood boil, and you’d finally admitted to yourself that it made you feel warm, “there are pockets for a reason” he put his own hands in the stitched pockets of his leather jacket for emphasis, and you huffed.

“And then how would i be able to carry this?” you lifted your hand, the what had been hot chocolate was now cold all thanks to the new barista at the cafe, jungwoo you think his name was. Your fingers that had seeped up all the warmth they could get from the previously steaming cup of hot chocolate were now pink at the ends, the cold biting into them, and you slightly shook from the cold air you hadn’t been ready for these type of temperature when jeno had sent you a message this morning, the contact “soft bad boy” appearing repeatedly in your phone, with the vague instructions to get ready to go out in the span of fifteen minutes, he’s been by your door in fifteen minutes leading you to your car where he opened the driver's seat for you as he headed into the passenger. It had taken you arriving at the snow covered school to realize where jeno was taking you, and when you had realized it was the school protests were coming. Questions such as “jeno? It’s winter break, why the fuck are we in school?” and “fuck it’s cold”, or jeno’s favorite which you were almost sure he would forever tease you about, “my hands weren’t made for this” you’d been talking about the numbing of feeling in your thumbs when you had been holding the chocolate, keys, phone and wallet in your hands because your jeans had been made without proper pockets. Fuck the patriarchy you hat thought. Jeno has heard the whole situation out of context, and has made it his life goal to tease you on and on about your small hands. It was torture.

“You could ask for help?” his little bow almost made you laugh, but you rolled your eyes pride getting in front of his help

“And hear you brag about how you don’t feel the cold” you sigh, changing the drink from one hand to the next letting the pocket in your hoodie heat up your hand slightly, “no thank you”. The next thing you know though, is jeno’s jacket is placed around your shoulders, their warmth heating up your bones, and his hands are wrapped around yours, “no, i’d just do this” his voice is next to you, breath stirring the hairs at your ears, warmth sweeps through your body, by the contact his skin makes with yours, and for a second you want to turn around and kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to kiss his lips that seem so soft, want to know what it feels like to wrap your arms around his neck while you kiss him, and play with the black strands of hair at the back of his neck. The feeling doesn’t leave as much as you try to push it away, as jeno holds your hands and drags you towards the school gate, and into the music room.

Falling is about the invisible things. Falling is noticing the way he can read your mind like no one else can, falling is making dumb jokes at each other smiles on both of your faces, it is the way you seem to have conversations about what you want from the world at two am and still poke fun at each other in a passing by through school. Falling you think you finally understand, isn’t singing i.f.l.y by bazzi in front of the whole student body because you don’t want someone to be mad at you, no. falling is the way from summer to fall to winter you get to know each other, until your hearts seem to be in-sync with each other, as jeno who fiddles with the rings on his fingers tells you to sit down on a chair in the music room. It is the way he picks up the guitar your breath catches on everytime you see it, the flowers swallowing and making the wood more vibrant than it was, and looks at you in the eyes. Falling is how his hands tremble slightly when he begins to strum the guitar, and his husky voice fills the empty room, as he sings about the way you make him feel less alone, and part of the universe.

But there’s a thing about falling, there’s the way that you can feel your eyes tear up when he finishes a goofy smile plastered on his face, the last g chord ringing throughout the room and into the hallways. When you fall, you can never tell when the bottom hits, you can never be prepared for the way the ground lurches before you, a slap in the face, right as you let go of the moon boy in front of you breaths still a little uneven from the shared kiss, which made a star fall seem small. Once that rock bottom is hit, the world falls back into place and you aren’t held at freefall, when you hear the “click” and whoops and yells from the hallway and you try to ignore the invasion trying to take in the boy in front of you, until your phone dings and then so does his. A new text message from an unknown contact, with a photo image attached,

“Turns out the bad boy took the bet after all, and y/n isn’t as cold hearted as they seem”

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

Crashing, falling and burning. Emotions that seem to curse through you days, a weeks later after the text is sent, the one that follows is worse.

“Turns out, jeno was being paid all along to make cold-hearted y/n to fall for him. If you don't trust us, ask him” you knew the message was a taunt, a test to see if you would break but you’d plummeted down down down, and the way jeno’s eyes had shuttered and the light was no longer the way gave you the answer you wanted.

A breaking point is what they call you’ve heard when one can no longer hold in the anger or sadness or any sort of emotion that seems to be too much. The breaking point that causes one to lose control over their actions, or thoughts because things you thought to be true, are flipped on their side, and the worst part is you wanted yourself not fall for the boy with the easy smile that shone like the moon, and sweet words that made your blood boil and melt all at once.

Sick, that’s how you felt when you pushed him away, leather jacket dropping with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. A twisting and turning of emotions rammed through you, anger coming out strong as you shoved him away again before walking out of the room, leaving jeno mouth wide open as if he’d wanted to say something, hands clenching and unclenching as if he’d grabbed onto to you or hadn’t let you check your phone it would change the world worked. The light that had shone in his eyes left, it seemed to be squashed out by the water that threatened to escape because it was true, he had been paid. It isn’t something that made him particularly, it wasn’t that he wasn’t intrigued by you, from the night you two first met all those months ago under the moonlight.

Payment, green paper that would be slipped into his hand by haechan, a fellow senior he barely knew apart from the school’s biggest flirt accompanied by na jaemin, he did wonder at times how they weren’t at each other’s throats most of the time, but substantially he truly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him the more he got to know you, the more he held your hand and felt the way his heart would swell and at times skip a beat or two, maybe even three if you looked at him with light in your eyes, laughter ringing in his ears from a joke he had said.

The first time he’d been offered the paper, fifty bucks to see if the cold hearted bitch that everyone seemed to fear was capable of giving her heart to someone, he had denied because as much as the world thought of him as a cold hearted human being he truly just didn’t want to be bothered or be torn apart from his music and dance. The second time haechan offered, he accepted on a whim. There had been a sort of argument in music class, you leading the conversation against something he couldn’t quite remember but he remembered you taking down student after student, a defiant look in your eyes as you gave point after point on what you believed was right. He had accepted, because seeing you standing on top of your chair, passion driving you away from the textbook and to speak clearly voice ringing through the room, made him wonder if it was even possible and if he gave up with what he thought was to be your overly cold demour then at least he's earned some money and the freshman that had walked up to him that morning telling him about the plan they’d set up would work. The plan chenle, a boy who was taller than him, but a freshman nonetheless broke it down in simple steps, it was entertaining to say the least, the way he discussed how he would get his new found jisung to go out with your sister, but that would only be possible if you would date. If he wanted to lie to himself, he would say that he accepted the deal because he wanted to help the kids out, but he was never one to not follow the truth. But now, his hands feel cold and empty, lips still feeling the ghost of yours against his, and he remembers a quote he read not long ago on the story of how the sun died everyday in order to let the moon live at night.

Jeno is sure that he should be the sun that should die, not because the sun was where the world gravitated towards but because you were the moon. The moon that seemed to hold him together and stand by him even after the lies that are spun about his background at school so when you walk out the door, and he sees the tear’s shining beneath the classroom lights he knows he’s lost. If only you knew that he had stopped taking any sort of money the moment he caught feelings, if you only knew the money that he’d earned had gone to help his fostered cats that hung out by his house every now and then. But even if you did now it didn’t make him any better than Haechan who had sent out the text message, informing the world about the stupidities and decisions he made and had regretted two weeks later when you had scolded him about how to drive your car.

Sick. From your stomach to your head a loud and never ending thump went on and on like the metronome in the music room all those weeks ago. The headache seemed mocking of your developed feelings for jeno, and you could feel your heart twist into itself, as you went over the events of the last few months. What was real, what was done as an act, you didn;t know but you hated it. You hated the way he made you feel, hated the way one text one yes or luv had led you into this snowball and fall that had hit harder than you’d ever wanted it. You hated him so much, it made you sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

Melodies follow structured patterns, like the rhythm to a song and the lyrics that accompany it, never missing a beat a simple dun dun dun that tends to lead people into a dance like trance. Yet that was the problem with melodies, it was the way that they held onto certain chords, following the same stroke of keys the same vocal riff or bass slap that would drive you insane but would also drive modern days love songs whether they dealt with the infatuation that was love or the consequences of that love which lead to the inevitable heartbreak all followed the same sort of patterns and lines.

Rhyming, that’s what you did as you recited the end of the year Shakespeare inspired song. A mixture of words with similar sounding words with the same syllables, like car and stare or hate and fate a juxtaposition between the two. Rhymes where everything you tended to avoid, the stereotypical and overused notes digging into your brain, playing and replaying over and over but you didn’t care anymore, as you recited the scribbled lines on the old piece of notebook paper. Some of the yellow had faded from the drops of tears that had dropped weeks ago, as your mind thought of jeno, his smile no longer the same comfort it held when he drove you out to the beach and led you late at night to admire the stars and watch the sunset. Some of the blue ink bleeding through, making smudges across the paper you were to run in, the doodles that had been scratched and re-drawn only to be scratched and drawn in different shapes the notes written down almost everywhere except in the five bar staff that was supposed to hold the notes.

The shaky breath you let out helps you calm down as you look out into the pinned up pictures of the bedroom wall and the view that gives out to the dying sun set out in the horizon making space for the ever present and shining moon in the blue now purple and lilac sky. Hands grip at the paper, making it crinkle slightly at the force being used, and you read halfway through the lines you can’t fully get through before tears begin to spring up at your eyes.

I hate it, i hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie.

The words feel raw, and posion, vile seems to rise up at your throat the further you go down, and thought the tears don’t fall heavily they steam. A dashing race down your cheeks and back into the yellow notebook paper, as if they were being recycled. The words on the page breaking you, the emotions a sway of everything they say you aren’t, written by you to the boy who shared his heart and then stole it taking it far far away. Salty water drops onto the paper, until they dry up and then they fall again the next time you read them, and you read them and fix them and read them again rhymes embedded into your brain until the tears no longer fall and the paper is no longer in crinkles.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

The memory flits back to you when you are met with brown eyes on the first day back from winter break. The air is no longer sharp and threatening to cut into you, but nevertheless you wear your sweater, hoodie slightly up, headphones popped into both ears. You didn't realize the figure in front of you, until you’d bumped into the halfway through a new invented dance move you had decided to create as you bopped and moved to the music that surged through your headphones. The toppling into one another was fast, rushed almost as you collided against each other, a stutter back from both of you before you saw who exactly you had crashed into. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you should have realized who the boy was from the worn out combat boots that had been dyed black again, and the leather jacket that had a couple of new patches adorning it’s sleeves.

“Sorry” jeno murmurs, but you don’t hear music still flooding in, and you are too focused on the way his eyes shift from your face to your hoodie, and then back to your face not being able to look straight at you, it causes you to scoff. Of course he was able go behind my back, get paid to play with me, and when he gets caught he can’t even look me in the eye, the thoughts are slightly disappointing but not surprising - boys you had learned tended to follow patterns. It isn’t until jeno shifts his focus entirely from you, brown eyes darkening that you are intrigued by the change emotion, guilt and a sort of plead to apologize is wiped from his face and you soon realize the purple haired boy, who couldn’t help himself from laughing at your situation, calling more students to him that had set jeno off.

“If it isn’t the schools biggest joke” haechan’s voice is mocking, and you truly don’t know why the rest of the student body is laughing with him, when there isn’t anything humorous, sadly this is what you expect from the school by this point, it happened in ninth grade there was nothing to say it wouldn’t happen again. You think about ignoring his comments, there truly was no use getting involved, haechan just wanted a reaction, that is until he flaunted his money around, the constant taunt of how you had been manipulated thanks to the douchebag in front of you not leaving your mind for a second and you’d had enough. Haechan or his group of friends couldn’t have stopped you even if they tried, as you walked up to him, hood down, the rings on your fingers shining in the morning sun, as you punched him.

“Bitch!” his voice broke as the word escaped his lips, blood beginning to swell on the side of his face, “i have a photoshoot tomorrow” you punched again in response, this time his lip was cut, and you snickered.

“Hmmmm” you hummed looking at the boy’s eyes, they held anger and a hint of mist that threatened to escape and not being the schools ‘perfect’ boy, “guess they’ll have to find someone else, you know someone that’s actually, how do i say this in the nicest way possible” placing a hand on your chin you pretend to think about it before a grin spreads on your face, “nevermind there isn’t a nice way because you don’t deserve shit. rot in hell fucker” the last word is almost a yell as you’ve turned around and have walked away from the scene, a shit eating grin on your face, at the look of defeat Haechan held.

It isn’t the way Haechan looks at you with disgust, no that gives you some sense of pride by taking him on, it’s the way jeno’s eyes are filled with pride and warmth. A plea to hear him out at least just once, and as much as you try to deny it his eyes take you back to hot chocolates on random days, snowball fights late at night and random drives through the city to calm you down, music blasted through the stereo of your old car. Memories of him being next to you, arms around yours holding onto you as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Memories that as much as you wished wouldn’t flood up every time you saw him did and though you kept telling yourself that it was just an act, you can’t help but think that maybe just maybe not all of it was an act. The hope you hold close to your heart, is what leads you to be stuck back in the place that the mess started, stuck inside the music room yet again, jeno hand centimeters away from yours which just gets you to sit far far away from him.

“So…” he starts, fiddling with the bracelets that adorn his wrists.

“So…you gonna say something or can i go because i have class to attend to” the words come out harsh, as your annoyance slightly rises, mixed in with being emotionally exhausted you really weren’t here to sit around the boy who had played with you.

“The cafeteira is having french fries today” the second the words leave jeno’s lips he regrets them, because how stupid is he to start an apology by talking about food, when he looks at you he sees you laughing. Laughing so hard that he manages to walk closer to you so that you are only a couple of feet away from each other, but it isn’t a laugh that fills up the room. Your laugh is dry and humourless, empty and broken, it reminds him of the way one laughs when they have nothing to lose and have given up all hope.

“You know” you start, willing the tears to not fall, your voice to not break because just being in the room with him feels like too much, like one wrong step and the glue that has tapped your heart back together might diffuse into thin air, “for a second, a short second i thought you were gonna say something meaningful” the words are like poison, as you spit them out wanting them to strike and hurt the black haired boy with the perfectly chiseled face to hurt as much as you do, as you begin to head out of the room, the tears threatening to spill again. You’re about to reach the door before you hear your name being called, and you wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the desperation that was laced with his words. If it weren’t for the words that followed your name, “Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing” the lyrics, the way they roll off his tongue as if he’s heard them a million times catch your breath and make you turn around.

“Stop” you hold your hand out in emphasis, trying to calm your beating heart down, trying to stop the idea that this boy, the one that held your heart and broke it is the same boy that made you feel at peace in a day of chaos, on a midsummer night. But he tries again to talk, a small smile on the ghost of his lips and you have the urge to laugh and smile at him.

“Just stop” you almost plead, and jeno takes a deep breath, waiting for you to continue, “stop because dam you have no right to sing that. You had no right, no right at all to make me laugh like no one else that day and day’s after, you had no right”

Even worse when you make me cry.

Jeno has never been one to convey emotions with words. It was never, his forte as people call it, but in the music room that felt stuffed and almost suffocating he reached for words. Any word that might be sufficient, no, not sufficient, words that would convey his truth. Somehow, some way to get rid of that look of disgust, anger and defeat in your eyes that made his heart ache. He can feel you pull farther and farther away even if you are only a couple of feet away from, a couple of inches until if he held his arm out he could catch your hand in his. There was some part of him that thought the moment you two shared what seemed to be years ago, would help, would stop your eyes from shining every-time a light would hit them, the tears he knew you were holding back, because you weren’t one to cry in front of others threatening to spill. In response, he could feel his heart ache for longer, his hands clam up, eyes look at yours pleadingly.

“I know” his voice is defeated, almost as broken as you feel and the way it still manages to pull at your heart makes you look up at him, willing if only for one second, or to prove yourself that you can listen to him. The pause seems to make the room feel slightly more bearable, less stuffy, a little less suffocating, because two words are more than just an acknowledgement at the past but also at the present and the recent fuck ups. You hear more than see jeno take another shaky breath before he opens his mouth, closes it and opens again, a hand squeezing his eyes shut before he begins.

“I know” the words are repeated again, and you aren’t sure what to make of them but he isn’t done, “i fucked up” you scoff, and jeno has a faint smile, “i know that anything that i say will seriously not make up for anything i did because no one in there right mind would ever accept to what i did. No one who knows you, would ever even consider agreeing to being paid to approach you. No one, because being around you, getting to know you is a gift itself. And yes i did agree at the beginning, it’s a long story” the words become clustered, a mumble and you want to leave again, because they feel like an excuse,

“A long story, that still ended with you winning right?” the words snap from you before you stop them, and jeno is left wordless for a second before his eyes focus in again, mind running at a million, “yes?”

“No. no, i mean no” the sound that escapes from his lips confuses you, it’s a grunt and a sigh but he looks exhausted, “this isn’t going well”

“You think?” The question is more of a fact but that doesn’t stop jeno’s lips twitching slightly upwards, and you're mirroring his. Banter is good? I guess jeno thinks.

“What i mean” he starts again for the uptenth time, “is that the moment i saw you smile, the moment i got to know you, not the cold exterior you present the moment you laughed at something stupid i said, because for some odd reason you seem to find my jokes funny when no one else does. The moment you... i saw you, eyes dazed as they looked at the sky i knew that the whole thing was stupid. And i stopped it, i promised i stopped taking money from haechan the second i knew you because you didn’t deserve that. Does that make me any less of a shitty person? No it really doesn’t” he stops for a second, catching his breath and you're trying your best to not let the tears drop to not scream or yell or hit him over and over again, but he makes it so hard. So fucking hard when his voice and eyes seem to convey everything you need to hear, everything you want to hear, but then the word money is said and you remember what he did and you can feel yourself recoil back, but not before a silent tear slips.

“It doesn’t make me a better person if i had stopped the moment i had accepted the deal because I considered it. But y/n the way I feel about you, the way you manage to center me and be the single thing that keeps me afloat in this hell hole. The way that being next you whether it’s holding your hand that tends to be cold because you hate wearing gloves in winter and rather let them freeze'' another smile, and another tear slips making its way down your cheek, “can make me so happy and completely infatuated to the point i don’t know what to do with myself. It is the way I can feel your body next to mine hours after you’ve gone home from one of our random late night drives, or the way you steal my jacket and then i can feel you with me even when you are in class. It’s the way the stars and moon seemed to align that summer day, when we were both lost and found each other in the same lyrics, the same words and melody that sang to us. So yes, i was so stupid, so dam stupid for ever thinking i could be anything other than a stranger to you, and accepting that. But I can feel the way my heart seems to forget how to beat, anytime you look at me, and you smile, and unlike what the world wants us to believe. You aren’t my sun, or my stars. You are the center of the universe that i stand for, the moon that no matter how much i tried to get away from continues to rise and remain even on the never ending days, because i didn’t mean it all those months ago in the bleachers when i just wanted you to stop being mad at me for being the dumb ass i am, and i will never be the best when it comes to words and emotions luv, but i mean it now. I truly truly am sorry, and -” his voice breaks, and his hands shake, a tear slips from his eyes and you can see it’s reflection by the light.

“St…” you take a breath, the word not leaving your throat, your breaths are shaky and jeno tries to reach out to you, tries to wipe away the silent flow of tears that continues to stream down your face, “stop”. The word finally manage to leave your lips, harsher than you wanted them too but it stops jeno from grabbing your hand, from taking away the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his eyes that had begun to light up slightly to be shut down again, as if someone had doused water on him.

“Luv…” the moment the words leave his lips you know you have to leave, because if he does say those words, the ones you know you’ve been dreading to hear because you feel the same way. Because you have fallen and though you have hit rock bottom, and have been smacked back into reality your heart has never stopped reaching towards his. It doesn’t help, when his eyes look at yours with love, and you want to forgive him, you want everything to be okay, and in order for that to happen you can’t break down in front of him. Slowly do you shake your head, arms wrapping around your body as if they could provide some type of warmth, and heat up your bones, give warmth back into your eyes the way they do when you look at jeno. Which is why you don’t look at him, why you turn away leaving his arm outstretched and hanging. You can feel his eyes trail you, as you open the door the noise of the outside world rushing into the room, startling you for a second, but jeno doesn’t seem to hear it. The only thing he can focus on is you leaving, your footstep getting farther away, and his world becoming a little darker, more grey. The last thing he sees is your - well what used to be his - grey hoodie, the marking of sharpie that have been used to doodle on the piece of clothing one late night, flashing before the wooden door closes shut, surrounding him in a lonely silence again.

I hate it when you’re not around,

The world seems to mock you for falling for lee jeno. The black haired boy seemed to follow you everywhere you went no matter how far away you tried to get away from the memories that plagued you. Days had passed since the world had yet again seemed to shift on its axis, and you had seen jeno less and less, but that didn’t stop your mind from making you remember his laugh anytime you heard a bad joke.

No longer did brown eyes meet yours right after school ended in the cafe next to school, you weren’t greeted by the easy smile, that turned eyes into moons, or called the obnoxious pet names of angel and luv that used to make you want to punch a wall, only for you to find the words to be missing from your everyday life. Moments when the radio would play the song about summer and hazy love would worm their way into your heart, and it was like he was there. Smiling at you, his hand intertwined with yours as you drove your car to the top of the mountain where you first met, and just when the chorus would hit the two of you would belt out the song at the top of your lungs. It was only when the song ended, the melody fading into the back and replaced by the rapid voices of an ad for some car dealership you really didn’t care for, that you would look to find an empty seat beside you. No boy with a leather jacket, and combat boots that might have been propped up on the dashboard much to your protests, instead the seats were either empty and cold with no presence or soul in them, and the car would suddenly feel small and distant.

Other times, the pang of not hearing his laughter diffuse into the air, over your clumsy self either tripping over words or almost falling over due to there being a small rock in the sidewalk. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t have friends. Your best friend, the same one that had dragged you into that party all those months ago, would never miss a beat to be with you, to take you out for a random karaoke night or a late night drive on her car. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them, you loved how they would always make time for the small nuisance you would bother them about, even if it was just to tell them about a new meme you’d found but the way their presence would fill only a small space in your heart made it hard. Especially because you would see how happy they were anytime they talked about Mark, the stories of their lazy dates filled your heart with happiness and joy. It had become a habit to prioritize other’s happiness above your own, and soon it became a habit to prioritize getting jeno out of your memories out of the place in your heart he had seemed to crawl into and not leave.

Memories you come to realize are fleeting, and unpredictable. They are made from what one process to be from the emotions they feel in the current moment that the memory is being stored into your brain. The thing about memories, it’s a thing that they don’t tell you in 12th grade biology class. School or teachers don’t teach you about the different emotions and images that memories bring along with them. The figments that surround every memory you have for the past year seem to somehow always lead back to jeno. He comes when you think about your favorite drink, hot chocolate, and the drink transports you back to jeno bringing you hot chocolate late at night after long after hour practices. His black hair makes a presence, when you think about the essay you had to turn in a week ago, you don’t remember much of the project but your brain, against your conscious will remembers the way jeno’s hair felt through your fingers as you played with his hair one late afternoon. The threads come together slowly, on a random day, in which the sun seems to almost be desperate to stay on the earth’s surface, as it turns the buildings around it into purple hues. It almost seems like it’s gasping for air, and as the purple slowly turns into pink and lastly disappears beyond the horizon it’s last breath taken and long gone you realize something. Like the sun, and the threads that are tied together in order to form memories, in order to form the segments of life that when pieces together form a picture that lets one create the story of a person or a setting, jeno seems to form in front of you. You sit on top of the mountain where you first met, but this time you are alone, the skyline displayed out in front of you. The trees have lost their leaves and some of them even still have some white specks of snow in them, that with one push of wind would make the tremble and shiver, letting go of the white covering.

Jeno is next to you, his hand only a mere centimeter from yours, but you continue to look at the sky, the buildings that go on for as long as you can see. His memory, the way you rest your head on his shoulder and he listens and listens no judgement ever from his eyes, only support and encouragement to let you choose what will make you happy. A memory that repeats over and over again, but that isn’t your favorite memory from jeno. The last memory that forms in your head, after the roadtrips, to sweet make out sessions that led you two to leave whatever homework you had to work on for another time, or the sweet messages left at your phone that would bring a smile to your face even if he just texted you about the weather, to then get a back hug as he called you angel.

Your favorite memory was the day you had been on the exact same spot you where now, except jeno had been next to you, breathing a little harder than normal he had just shown you a dance routine he’s been working on for as long as you could remember. His eyes didn’t shine like they usually did, they didn’t take in the light around him, and his face didn’t have traces of a grin that you had grown so used too. Instead he pushed you away, dark roots from his bleached hair he had decided to try out for the month had begun to show and you could see the stress that seemed to suffocate him. This was a different side of jeno, a side you hadn't seen, one that you tried to approach with a joke, only to be quickly shut down. A small argument over school and life had formed, in which you two had gone from being right next to each other to being feet apart, a scowl on your face, the same one that jeno bore. It was this memory that was your favorite because it had been the first time you had truly seen jeno be vulnerable, it had been the first time from the weeks you had gotten to know each other that you felt that the walls on walls he built around himself, the walls you built around yourself had been torn down. There had been no shared kisses, no shared moments in which one hadn’t jokingly filtered with the other until the first droplet fell down jeno’s face. The only reason you had seen it was because the sun, punctual as always, had descended flickers of light reflecting in his face. It was a small action but enough that there was some part that managed to push aside your pride and you approached him, arms wrapping around his waist. The memory makes you remember that it took him a second to wrap his arms around you, but in that moment, it seemed as only for a second in which you could provide some support for the boy in front of you, then he could give you the support you needed. Threads of the memory are vague, movements in which you can’t fully pinpoint what happened in between or later, in which you know that at one point music had begun to make its way up the mountain from one of the daily parties the teens would throw, but you two held onto each other. The song, isn’t one you can seem to recall, but it wasn’t one that people slow dance too, it wasn’t one in which you are supposed to hold onto the boy in front of you arms around his neck, as his eyes looked into yours, smiles grazing both of your features as your foreheads touched, a small kiss placed on your forehead. Moonlight cascading the both of you, pushing away the shadows that surrounded you both.

It was any memory that you had in which jeno took part, in which you could feel him next to you, that was your favorite. Memories, you remember reading somewhere are your subconscious telling you something, it is the way the body and mind admit what you are too scared to take in for yourself. Memories of jeno next to you, and then not are what make you realize how much you hate not having the black haired boy, with the overly kind personality next to you.

And the fact you didn’t call.

Days turn into months, as the winter snow leaves the tree’s branches leaving them barren. Only for the spring rain and occasional sun to let the leaves and flowers begin to spring back up again. Teachers are at the point in the year whether they aren’t quite sure if they want to give everyone in the class a pass just so they don’t have to hear the constant complaining on the amount of assignments a student has due by tomorrow, or if they’ll give more work, more assessments as a sort of payback for the hardships they’ve had to endure throughout the year.

You are in music class, your professor going over the final assessments guidelines one last time before they are presented at the start of class tomorrow. The weight of the written sonnet feels heavy, and though the physical copy of the assignment is types out neatly somewhere in your computer, the original draft that you had begun to draft all those months ago is crumpled up in your jacket pocket, a constant reminder of everything you want and everything that you feel you can’t have.

If you close your eyes just for a second you can see yourself back in your room, until the space changes and you are no longer in your room but are at the school’s roof. The warm spring breeze tangling your hair, and making the page in front of you flutter. You didn’t need the paper, the lyrics to the musical sonnet that had been shakespeare inspired seemed to be embedded into your brain so that when you weren’t thinking about the thousands of words you still had to write when it came to the labs for biology class, or the analysis of catcher in the rye for english class, the words would replay in your head over and over. The soft melody accompanying them. Humming to the song had become a habit, one that had developed like how one realizes that they bit ethier lip, or thumbs when they are stressed or bored. A habit that once you realize it’s there you can’t help but notice it every time you do it. The notebook paper continues to rustle, and you fold it and place it into the pocket of the black jean jacket, taking a deep breath as you do so. Unlike summer nights and winter afternoons, spring doesn't feel suffocating when the sun is out, because the clouds do a job of covering the sun before it burns your skin. The wind dies down, and you begin to humm to the sonnet, the words so familiar you were almost sure if your memory was to be taken, those words would remain embedded, and make their way back up because they were an acceptance of everything you were and everything you felt.

The final bell has rang, and you can see the swarm of teenage bodies rush out of the school, some go directly to the bus stop in groups, others head to the grass fields that make up most of the school's building. You don’t think much about where others go, don’t dwell much if they get home safely or if their parents will pick them up. Dwelling too much on thoughts a feeling never helped anybody, it’s a mantra that has been drilled into you and almost every other teenager and young adult in this lifetime as movies and books tell you to focus on the present never on the future and most definitely not in the future. Yet you wonder if these books written by great authors that make you question the world around you, or movies that seem to transcend time if the authors themselves that preach about not dwelling too much on one moment if they themselves spent too much time focusing on the sound of their love’s laughter, or the way their nose would scrunch up a reaction to the world around them anytime they found something amusing. You wonder if the person or memory they were told or did think about so much that it caused them heartache had the ability to make them write the poems you had written. So you try to not dwell on the people, no larger than your thumb as they rush from one side of the campus to another, because if you thought about him, it, for too long the memories would rush back in. Instead you look down, the light vertigo causing you to snap back into some realm of reality.

Sitting down on the roof’s edge, legs dangling off the edge you continue to hum and sing to the melody that plays in your heart, confession to yourself, a confession to the dark haired boy that captured your heart. The tears seem to swell up over and over as you reach the bridge, and they stream silently, down your face. They run down landing on your hands, on the ripped jeans and doodle converse. Your mind drifts to the memories connected with the lyrics and the fact that as much as you wanted to not want to hear jeno’s voice especially after you had pushed him away, you couldn’t get rid of the way he knew you. He knew you better than at times you almost thought you knew yourself, it was a nuisance the way your heart would skip beats months after everything went down, how it would still accelerate when you two would make eye contact because he had apologized and you don’t know if it was because you had never felt this way before, or because you two kept meeting underneath the moonlight the same song that seemed to connect the two of in one string of fate that you had forgiven him. But forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting, it didn’t mean that you had wished he’d called and you hate him - or lack thereof to do so - when days passed and the beep boop ba a compilation of random noises jeno would make whenever he was confused, and your ringtone for him didn’t disturb you.

Your voice breaks slightly as the melody in your head falls, fading into a non-existent background. The sun had begun to fall, but you don’t notice, eyes closed as you take in the world around you. Notes ending, song and the hum of love never confessed, never expressed, stolen by the wind. And that’s the thing about having your eyes closed, oblivious to the world and the people around you, because you don’t hear the opening and closing of the slightly rusted door. You don’t notice the boy with a leather jacket, hair almost covering his eyes that are filled with so much love but confusion by the words that leave your mouth. It’s the thing about the wind, that it takes a message and delivers it to whom it wants you unlike a phone call that is directed at who you choose. The wind is a free spirit, and it doesn’t travel far. To be more exact it travels the short span of a mere seconds, a mere feet to jeno whose mouth has fallen at the sound of your voice so raw and pure. It is the wind that calls him to you, the wind that makes him take slow steps to you.

Wind, a warm breeze in the coming summer air, love that you don’t realize you have, you need until it’s wrapping its arms around you.

But mostly i hate the way i don’t hate you.

The moment you feel arms wrapping around you still. Every bone in your body stops moving, your legs stop swinging and your voice catches in your throat. It isn’t until you spot the small cassette tattoo on the wrist of the arms wrapped around you that you breathe again and push yourself back, a curse escaping your lips. Laughter rings in your ears as jeno holds you up from where you sit, and turns you around so that you face him. You begin to push him away, on instinct from weeks of telling yourself that you wanted nothing to do with the boy in front of you. That the way his eyes dimmed, and lips curved down by the light gesture of pushing him away didn’t affect you. It was a mantra, push him away, don’t get hurt, a mantra produced by a time of hurt and fear for being broken again. Something that you had come to realize though in the past week, the past day, past couple of minutes when someone’s arms had warped around you and you had wished it had been jeno, that the heart and the mind don’t always coincide.

It is when you look up again, and jeno is already looking at you, hair illuminated by the descending sun, as it casted flames dancing across his features, and lighting up his eyes, that you smile. Some sort of smile that repairs something in jeno, because his eyes seem to be filled with hope again and he opens his mouth ready to speak, ready to tell you everything he wanted to say again, mostly to apologize but when he opens his mouth the words seem to be caught in his throat. Stuck, as if there was some force pulling them back, not letting them escape and reach you. Mouth opens and closes again, and it’s the sound of your voice as you call to him, and say something he can’t quite process, blocked by the noise that doesn’t leave his head that he can finally speak again.

“June 21” those weren’t supposed to be the words that lef this mouth, and your confused look didn’t give him any confidence to continue whatever the hell he was gonna do, which at this point he truly didn’t know because this was supposed to be an apology but he had already apologized. Jeno decided to do his best, and try again, “that was the day we met. The day you helped me finish composing this beautiful song that helped me get into music school. The day where the second i heard you singing off the words i threw out into the open air hoping for someone to grab onto, you did, and my heart seemed to begin it’s freefall” a small smile graced your features, as you remembered the day, not knowing how much life would change. The small smile is all jeno needed to continue, gaining confidence even as happiness filled every inch of you, tears that you promised you wouldn’t shed in front of him steamed but not from sadness or anger this time. This time they were from a place of loss and happiness to the boy whose eyes conveyed so much more than the words he spoke, whose hand had come up to your cheek wiping away the spare tears that would come down. Ever so gentle and full, always him.

“It was something I didn't think was possible, you know? Coming to this new school, everyone had come up with their own ideas of who i was, because of stories they had heard, only to find you. Headstrong as ever, always standing by whatever you believe even some like pluto is still a planet” you both laugh, it’s a quick one, more like a chuckle but it’s filled with joy, at the memory. “You who didn’t care what the world thought, only that if you put your mind to it you would get it done. I never meant to fall in love with you, never meant to make you cry because of something that shouldn’t have ever happened, I never meant to get you too hate me the way you probably do” his eyes softened, and he pulled away ever so slightly, “but here I am. And i now i most definitely don’t deserve it but y/n, i can’t deny it because since i first heard your voice that late night i think i fell for you, and it has been a constant free fall from there. So when i say it now, i mean it i fucking love you” the end was more of a ramble, a long list of words that made your heart flip and expand in your chest, making your smile grow and you could see the doubt in his eyes, you could see him retreat back into himself, he completely let you go when you spoke up again, “you want to know what i hate the most?” you didn’t wait for a response before speaking again, grabbing his hands in yours, and you willed him to look at you.

“I hate the way that I don't hate you” you take a step closer to him, your faces so close the sun casting glows on you both. Two shadows becoming one behind you as the sun set, as one confessed to another the way they felt. “Because i don’t hate you, jeno. In fact it’s the opposite, because hate is not even close, not a tiny bit in resemblance to what i feel you for you,

Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all.”

adfghjk and it’s finally done !!! i had so so so much fun writing this piece and seriously hope you guys enjoyed it !! im such a sucker for jeno and this movie in general lol. i struggled w the ending so i hope it came out well :) n e ways,,, please please tell me your thoughts on it, what you liked? what you didn’t like? things i could improve on. much love to you all !!

masterlist

#nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct imagines #luna writes #nct scenerios #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno imagines #lee jeno #nct dream #nct dream scenerios #nct dream imagines #jeno scenerios #jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #fanfic

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spinster-sisters · 4 years ago

Text

Sunflower. Pt.2 LTY

Warnings: there is some mild sexy time thing but lemme tell you this relationship is toxic as fuck and get pretty heavy on the verbal fights so please don’t read if you are senstive to this kind of stuff.

THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG

The minutes ticked slowly by on the clock.

You didn’t dare check the time, scared of how late it was, and how early you had to wake up in the morning. You were now in your senior year at university, and it took no genius to notice you had been somewhat distracted over the past year or so. And your grades took the fall for it, so here you were at the ungodly hours of the night, juggling fixing your grades and working at your part-time job.

And speaking of distractions, you hadn’t seen Taeyong in 5 days. He, as far as you knew, was in a similar boat, having put off school in favor of parties and drinking, he was somewhat distant to everyone that past week or so. You are fairly certain that the only people who he has even seen the past couple of days are his two best friends, Johnny and Jaehyun.

You had met them both a couple of times before, and they were very similar to Taeyong himself, though you had to admit, they were a bit nicer. But you had never gotten to close with them, certainly not close enough to ask about their friend. (Who you weren’t even dating)

As the hours went by you found your mind straying farther and farther away from the material of the book laid out in front of you, instead of to the beautiful man who had your heart. You were worried about him, you missed him. Your mind thought of the last time you had seen him. It had been at the last college football match, and since you hung around in similar circles your two groups of friends often sat near each other at these kinds of things. Not that he sat next to you, no way in hell. He kept his distance laughing and joking with his friends, barely glancing your direction. But you hardly even looked at the game, instead choosing to watch the expressions of the heavenly man only a few rows away. He had been wearing a graphic T, which had hung loosely of his lean shoulders, and was tucked into his jeans. Your friends sitting next to you would elbow you in the ribs now and then notify you of something happening in the game, but not even the roaring crowd of thousands of happy college students could make you drag your eyes away from Taeyong as he jumped up, elated like his friends.

As the game came to a close you pleaded silently that the two groups of friends would stay together for the after-party, but your roommate (the person most aware of your infatuation) pulled you away from the festivities reminding you of the many hours of homework ahead of you that evening.

The party, you heard, was an eventful one. There were whispers through the grapevine that some disgruntled players from the opposing school found their way to the party and (though there are about 15 different versions of the story) Taeyong was the main reason 2 of them left with a black eye. You don’t know how much you believe that, Taeyong was many things but violent was not one of them, but it worried you none the less. Especially since he has been MIA since that night. I mean, what if he got hurt? What if he was in the hospital?

You pulled your mind out of the speeding train of thought. Your eyes were burning after staring at the pages of your textbook in the dim light for so long, and lateness of the hour only added to the heaviness of your lids. Not to mention the hard surface of your cheap desk and chair were a great discomfort to your aching bones after the long shift you had finished not 4 hours before. You finally gave yourself the relife of rubbing your bloodshot eyes and stretching your crackling spine. Now you looked at the clock next to you on the cheap yellow wood of your desk.

2:13 am.

As though the number themselves triggered it, you opened your mouth in a shaking yawn that moved its way through your body in waves. The exhaustion and desire for sleep were so severe you wondered whether you would make it all the way to your bed about 4 feet away. After coming to the realization that continuing to stare blankly again at your textbook would change nothing, you moved to stand up, lifting your arms above your head and arching your back side to side feeling the pleasant cracks. But your movements twords your bed were halted by your phone notification flashing. Lifting your phone closer to your head, straining your tired eyes you read. It was a simple question from your friend about your plans the next day (something you planned on replying to tomorrow morning) but the alert sent a thought to your brain.

Maybe you should call him.

You don’t know why this came into your head, it’s not like he had the best track record for answering you, and it’s not like he is likely to respond after being away for so long. But your earlier thoughts and fears resurfaced in your head, enough so that you typed out a quick message to the man and sent it before you could think twice:

To: Taeyong

“Hey, don’t know where you’ve been but I missed you”

[2:15 am]

The train car stank slightly and rumbled severely, but the giddiness bubbling in your tummy at the thought of the day out with those closest to you had all negative thoughts pushed out of your mind. Soon the monotone robotic voice sounded over the PA informing you of your arrival. Your roommate took the both of you by the arms and safely guided the three of you off the stain and above ground. Though it was still early morning the sun shown brilliantly against the glass windows of the surrounding buildings.

Pushing the thoughts out of your brain you crawled into your bed.

———————————

The plans you and your friend had for the day was simple, heading into the city your campus was on the outskirts of. Both of you had been spending the past two weeks working your asses off so as a reward you, your best friend and your roommate were now sitting on the subway heading to the heart of the city.

Besides time and a meeting place, you and your two companions had no real plan for the day, instead, allowing the day to take you where it will. As the sun moved through the sky so did your group through the city, going from shop to shop or park to park, even possibly a wedding reception (though your roommate dragged you and your friend away before it could be considered “wedding crashing”)

As the day drew to a close, the sun finally falling behind the towers, your best friend had the sudden idea to do something daring. The day had been an all-round success and had even managed to keep Taeyong out of your mind for the past few hours which was a feat in itself, so you decided to indulge your friend and ask her what she had in mind.

You were stopped at a street corner outside a quaint looking coffee shop and the time for nightlife was just beginning. The three of you were stood in a circle and as your friend spoke she leaned in, giving her words a childish giddy tone.

“Let’s get tattoos!” she spoke in a whispered shout. You scoffed at the idea leaning back in disbelief.

“Why would I spend my hard-earned money to have someone draw on my skin?” you asked allowed, expecting to have your roommate, ever the sensible one, back you up. But after being met with silence your head whipped to her to see the pensive yet optimistic look on her face.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re ok with this?” You asked in disbelief, gesticulating madly in her direction. She gave you a sheepish smile and said;

“Well, it is our last year of undergrad, might as well do something to remember it” all the while speaking with a bashful smile on her face.

“What?!” you could not believe the words you were hearing. Looking back and forth between your two friends did nothing to ease the confusion on your head. But after staring at them for a minute, them looking determined, you spoke;

“I’ll come with you but don’t expect me to get anything” you spoke resolutely. At this your friend, the initiator of the idea refuted,

“No, absolutely not, we are doing this together or not at all!” She looked defiant.

The longer you considered the darker it got and as much as you didn’t want to admit it you had been sort of detached from the people closest to you because of Taeyong and it sounded nice to be apart of the group again. You continued to mull it over for a few more moments before speaking apprehensively.

The day was now over and you were comfortably laying on your bed sprawled out over the covers like a starfish with a content smile etched onto your lips as you watched the blades of your ceiling fan revolve, listening to the gentle hum of voices from whatever your roommate was listening to in her room.

“Fine, something small”

———————

The parlor had been intimidating and severe but after walking out with a small sunflower tattoo on your right ribs (easily concealable in the future) you felt like a new woman. The three of you pilled into the nearest public restroom to take an Instagram picture of your new “Ink” (as your friend so childishly put)

The peace was broken however when the blaring sound of your ring tone sounded through the room. Your heart jumped at the initial sound but you quickly calmed and reached out to answer it. Whatever spike your heart received at the ringtone was nothing compared to the jolt at the name flashing on your screen:

Taeyong

You stared blankly at it for a few moments before rushing to answer it, practically shooting upright on your bed while bringing your phone to your ear. The eagerness that boiled inside of you whenever you were around the beautiful man grew as you awaited the sound of his voice.

“Hello?” you said almost too quickly before the call completely connected. You half expected the kind of brooding silence he usually gave you to build anticipation when he called you for sex, but instead, he spoke almost as quickly as you did.

“Let me in” the voice was not the smooth or a rich as honey as it usually was, in fact, it was almost coarse and rough. But this fact did nothing to stop the growing need in your heart knowing he was so close.

You barely choked out a ‘sure’ before running to meet him. The fact you were barely covered in an oversized t-shirt you bought yourself and underwear and the fact that you did not tell your roommate what was happening did not cross your mind as your body acted practically of its own accord, flinging your front door open and running down the several flights of stairs to the main door. Only when you reached the main entrance did the state of your dress and the lateness of the hour occur to you. But you didn’t have time to be embarrassed with Taeyong on the other side of the door. Panting you pulled open the door.

The sight of him was as beautiful as always, to you, he carried a glow around him that made him stand out from everyone else. Your mind already fogging over from the proximity after being apart for so long. While you were starstruck at the sight of him, his eyes only narrowed as he looked you up and down once before shoving his way through the door. dazed, you allowed him to drag you wordlessly back up to your apartment by the vice grip he held on your wrist. The entire way up the stairs your eyes did not leave his back. Even in the thick hoodie he was wearing your eyes could almost see where the toned muscles of his back would be if you could see them, your mouth watered at the thought and your head swam with the desire to hold him as close to your body as possible. Taeyong gave you no such opportunity, instead of keeping himself at least 2 steps ahead of you, dragging you limply behind him.

When you finally made it back through the threshold of your apartment Taeyong kicked the door closed behind him a continued the pull you twords your room. Your roommate called out, “Y/N? What’s going on?” from her room, clearly still preoccupied with the TV show she was watching. You awoke from your daze the tinnies bit but before you could answer Taeyong spoke loudly in response:

“None of your damn business”

Pulling open the door to your room pushing you in ahead of him and slamming the door so forcefully you briefly thought it might break off the wall. Distantly, as though it was coming from underwater, you heard your roommate scoff as though unsurprised. But this was inconsequential to you right now, all your mind seemed to fully understand was Taeyong standing before you with a scowl etched on to his perfect features.

Normally Taeyong would take his time working you up to near insanity before acting but tonight he was a man on a mission, merely pushing you back onto the bed. You instinctively slid back till your back hit the wall but your eyes did not leave his. Honestly, it was rare to have his full undivided attention even when he was toying with you, but the penetrative stare made you feel as though he could see every inch of your body with x-ray vision and the sensation was intoxicating.

Taeyong wasted no time in climbing on top of you and caging your head between his arms. Your head was swimming, Taeyong, his weight pressing down on you and, his heavenly musk being the only thing any of your five senses you perceive. Your heart was racing a mile a minute and your throat constricted the closer he got. You’re sure he could feel the eagerness radiating off your body.

Taeyongs hand slid from their place on the mattress to the hem of your shirt and in one quick motion he pulled it off. An instant cold hit your now exposed chest, but after a year of encounters with Taeyong, you knew better than to cover your now hardening nipples from the cold air. But Taeyong didn’t seem to notice or care about your compliance with his tastes and rules, instead, his eyes were fixed, unmoving from the dark lines etched into your skin covered by the clear wrappings. His eyes swam with unrecognizable emotions but you, who are so attuned to him, knew after only a few seconds that he was not pleased with what he saw.

Your heart sank and dread-filled your chest, in a childish attempt to keep him from looking so disapprovingly at the mark you moved your hand to cover it. But the damage had been done.

The disapproving look did not leave his eyes as they slowly moved from the inky skin upwards to your hardening nipples. A low rumble came out of his chest as he moved you farther back onto the bed placing his body between your automatically parting legs. He moved his head closer and began leaving bites and bruises on your neck and chest.

You were in euphoria as the feeling of his wet plush lips moved up and down on your neck, leaving a cold slick trail in their wake. It did not take much for Taeyong to get you keening with desire, and though this was not his usual tactic of reducing you to putty by merely his words before even laying a finger on you, it was still working like a charm. As you looked down at your bodies pressed together and his beautiful hands sliding up and down your torso you had a feeling that he could feel the slick in your panties and the heat radiating off of them.

Eventually, Taeyong pulled back just enough to watch your expressions, one hand slowly slid from its place on your waist up your body to the roots of your hair, and the other slid lower, trailing the skin above your panties briefly before slipping into them. At first, he did nothing but stare at you. You were panting with anticipation, practically mewling at the mere thought of him. You are sure the desperation could be seen in your eyes, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to know how much he means to you especially in this way where no other man could give you the same satisfaction.

His hand was cold where it sat securely cupping your heat, your body started to buck slightly into his hand, pleading him to just do something.

“How badly do you need it?” He questioned allowed in a surprisingly amused voice. You whined out a response and bucked your hips once more into his hand.

“That’s, not an answer baby,” He remarked casually as the heat the pooled in your abdomen burned even stronger, sweat was beginning to form on your brow as your body worked itself up into a fervor. You wanted him more than anything you have ever wanted before. Your head swam with thoughts, but the only discernable thing in them was the face of the godly man before you, who glowed in the yellow lights of your bedroom.

“I need it so bad Tae” You spoke, your voice came out raspy.

“And who do you want to give it to you?” He asked, finally moving his hand the slightest bit to slid between your folds. Your breath hitched so severely that you nearly choked. And when one long slender finger found it’s purchase providing your entrance you lost the ability to breathe at all.

It felt like you had done hard drugs with how intensely your mind spun. Every inch of your body tingled with desire for Taeyong.

“You, Taeyong, please” You pleaded so desperately, closing your eyes to shield yourself from the powerful glow that radiated off of him. But just when you thought he would grace you with the pleasure you so desperately desired, his hand pulled away and out of your panties abruptly. A pitiful whine so long and drawn out it was shameful, escaped your lips as your body attempted to curl in on itself to fill the spot where Taeyongs hand was not moments ago, but his lean body was still positioned over yours keeping you in place. The hand that had been in your hair tightened dangerously as he forced your dazed eyes to meet his clear ones.

“So just to be clear,” he spoke in his scarily dominating voice, “You need me” He spoke every word with such a definitive tone. Your eyes had gone wide in shock after the initial stupor and feeling of emptiness subsided. You pressed your back into the mattress and nodded at him, after all, it was true.

Taeyong leaned back onto his heels, still kneeling on the bed, still keeping you securely beneath him.

“When I saw it on Instagram I hoped it was a joke.” He stated plainly, crossing his arms after gesturing vaguely to the marks on your stomach. The disappointment that dripped from every word made you want to crawl deeper and deeper into the blankets. You had disappointed him, you shouldn’t have let your friends talk you into getting it.

“And to think I was going to reward you next time I saw you.” you burned with embarrassment.

“And what exactly were you thinking” He accused, leaning back over you with a severity you had never heard in his voice. The shame was unbearable.

“Marking up your skin?” He nearly spat at you. You felt awful like you had failed him, the only person who mattered to you at all. But in his next words, his voice shifted to a sickly sweet tone.

“My baby girl doing something like this without asking me?” He asked allowed as if it was a scandalizing thing for you to do.

But his words caused something to snap in you. You were coming down from the dazed high that seemed to permeate your brain whenever Taeyong was around. You felt hurt and cut deep, and possibly for the first time, a twinge of anger rose in your chest as his accusatory glare still shown down on you.

Your face hardened as the anger rose. Fuck this.

You forced yourself into a sitting position and pulled your discarded shirt over your head. Taeyong was thrown off balance by this and fell slightly onto the bed. His face held shock but anger was still the predominant emotion as he pushed himself off the bed to stand on the floor in front of you.

You had never acted out against him before so both of you seem equally surprised at your actions and certainly, neither of you knew what you were going to do next. Your brain was still quite a bit fuzzy but was gaining clarity quickly but the only thing you truly felt at this moment was, for the first time, you wanted Taeyong out. So that’s what you went with.

“Leave” you demanded simply, breaking eye contact with his smoldering gaze. Even as you spoke a significant portion of your hear was calling out to you to stop. To not let yourself push away the man you craved so intently. Taeyong made no move to leave only raising an eyebrow. You could tell that he was not taking you seriously, as he never has, so you repeated yourself, firmer and meeting his eyes.

“Leave”

“I’m not going to do that” he replies cooly, it was clear to him that he still held the power in this interaction and he was determined to keep it.

“Now how bout you tell me what’s bothering you so I can get back to dealing with this little act of defiance,” he remarks, causally gesturing to the patch of skin beneath your shirt. He was treating you like a child. Like a dumb little girl throwing a tantrum. You began to seeth where you sat staring up at him. He made a move to reach out to you but you shoved his hand away. Fixing your face with a determined expression.

“Taeyong, get the fuck out of my apartment,” The mild amusement in his face disappeared. His eyes darkened dangerously, a sign you had become accustomed to. He was getting angry as well, but he still made no move to leave. The longer he stood there to more your blood boiled and the more you glared at each other the higher the tension rose.

“Watch your mouth, babe” He growled at you.

“Don’t tell me what to do Taeyong” You said raising your voice and pushing yourself off the bed to face him. You had never been anything but compliant with him, scared to lose whatever affection he had for you. Even in the moments he frustrated you or broke your heart you would still obey his every command because the idea of being without those few minutes with him was worse than enduring the hours of pain that he caused. But now as you stand here you could not stop the flow of words escaping your mouth, though deep in your heart you knew you would regret them later.

“Do not tell me what to do Taeyong. I am sick and tired of this shit! You come into my life, maybe twice a week if I’m lucky, fuck around with me and my emotions, make demands, make me act a certain way, only to leave me and disappear for days! and yet I still come running any time you call just for the chance to be in your presence. You treat me like I am a child and even when I am with you it’s like I am the 3rd thing on your priorities list!”

You took a panting breath.

“God fucking damn it Taeyong, you have stopped in the middle of fucking me just to go off to some party and you think you have the right to come in here and take ownership of my body?” You screamed out every word at him and with every word his face hardened.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I have the right, I know I do” he growled out, “Because in case you haven’t noticed it is you that comes crawling back not me, it is you who hangs on every word I say, it is you who fell in love with me.” Spat out at you, voice dripping with malice.

“Yes I do treat you like a child because you are one, it’s like you are completely dependent on me and its pathetic! You call me and text me every fucking hour of the day like it’s my job to listen to your cries. I have better things to do than comfort you over every tinny inconvenience.” His speech was filled with more emotion than you had ever heard come out of him, and honestly, you wanted more.

“Fuck off Taeyong” You spat turning away from him and staring out your window.

“Oh, no no no, you wanted to fight, now we are going to fight!” He practically roars at your back, stepping closer to you where you stood your ground.

“You are the neediest and most obsessed person I ever meet. Remember I don’t need you, I really fucking don’t. And yet you get crazy every time I don’t talk to you for a day, what the fuck was that by the way 'Hey, don’t know where you’ve been but I missed you’ If I thought it was important that you knew where I was I would have fucking told you. I don’t fucking love you so why are you so obsessed with me” He calls out to you. You rounded on him.

“Do not act like you didn’t want me to fall for you possessive son of a bitch! You were so scared of sharing your toys you made it a point to make me care about you so that others would stay away!”

Your voices were getting louder and louder with each passing jab.

“Yeah, I don’t like sharing! I never said I was a good guy Y/N, I don’t give a fuck about your feelings but I will be fucking damned if I let some random ass guy of the street touch you or let you put black shit in your skin! I know you better than anyone and you know what the best part is? It will fucking stay that way, cuz I know that right now you are just eating up all the attention I am giving you aren’t you, you pathetic bitch!

Just as he was about to continue the door was thrown open and your roommate stocked into the room. Her expression was hard and emotionless. She marched right up to where Taeyong stood motionless, grabbed the man by the collar and flung him twords the door. She spoke with the kind of finality that sent shivers down your spine.

"Taeyong, its time your you to leave.”

After processing her words he gave her a quick once over as if deciding if it was worth fighting. And as he turned and walked out the door you had the sinking realization had he had decided that you were not worth the trouble.

After the sound of the front door opening and closing your roommate turned to were you stood and addressed you for the first time.

“are you alright?”

It occurred to you now for the first time that you were crying. Because Taeyong was right, you did like it in those moments where it seemed for the first time that you were truly the sole object of his attention.

#nct smut #taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #taeyong scenarios

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sluttyten · 4 years ago

Note

but what about a tattoo shop au with all the tatted boys? 👀

Stop oh my god

So I’m already super into the idea of tattoo artists Ten and Yuta, but like what if Taeyong and Johnny were just clients. Taeyong’s friends with Ten from when they were in school together, bonding over art (their shared major) until Ten dropped out due to personal reasons and became a tattoo artist instead, and Taeyong was one of his first clients, but Yuta poaches him because he thinks it’s sexy the way that Taeyong looks when he’s getting tattooed. Then Johnny was Yuta’s friend and he actually hung around the shop a lot before one night Yuta, Ten, and Johnny were drinking in the back after closing up for the night, and Ten convinced a drunken Johnny to let them tattoo him as he had never been tattooed before. He refuses to get one while they’ve all been drinking because he doesn’t want whatever they permanently put on his body to be fucked up, but a few days later he sits down and lets Ten ink him with whatever he wants and Ten chooses a little sunflower because he thinks Johnny is tall and pretty and a lot like the sun. He continues coming back for more after that, always going to Ten rather than Yuta because he loves the way Ten talks with him while concentrating on what he does, how he looks as he focuses, how his hands feel on Johnny’s skin (especially when a late night session on a thigh tattoo gets a little handsy, but nothing too inappropriate).

#asks #i know lucas has a tattoo too but i didn’t know where to make him fit in this little scenario i was creating #and that’s all that we know of right?#wow i just realized that i forgot yuta doesnt actually have any actual tattoos that we know of #im so dumb and full of wishful thinking lol

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jongins-laceglove · 5 years ago

Text

Cat and Mouse

4.1k words

Growing up, Jisung was always a bit scrawny. he was easy to scare, and always hid when there was company as he was shy. he never really liked big events, which was to say the least- a bit odd for the son of a fox and a wolf.

he was always chased and made fun of for being like he was, and he never understood why.

what had he done? why, simply nothing. he couldn’t help how he looked- it was just how he was.

he had always looked at the other children of the fox and wolf hybrids, and they were always so well held and regal.

— present

he sniffled on the floor of his closet. today was his 16’th birthday. his family was throwing him a big party, but he wasn’t even present for it and nobody noticed. he hugged his legs as he put his forehead onto his knees, further soaking his jeans that were wet with his tears. he was startled when he heard someone knock on the door suddenly “Jisung..? it’s Jeno” “and jaemin!” he heard the boys call out to him.

“C-come in..” he sniffled out.

he looked up from his spot on the floor in the dark room and saw the two boys peak inside, Jeno’s scarlet read ears twitching and Jaemin’s black tipped pumpkin orange ears turning towards him. he blinked through his tears as the two 18 year olds came in and sat down next to him, sitting there silently for a minute.

“Happy birthday” Jaemin said quietly and suddenly.

Jisung let out a small laugh “Yeah, some birthday this is.”

“Now, don’t be like that, Sungie.. even if the others are too preoccupied with your party to actually care about how you’re taking this, we’re still here for you.” Jeno tried, attempting at making the boy feel better, but only making things worse.

“yeah, but you won’t be soon! You guys have to leave tonight for New Zealand.. and you won’t be back any time soon. What am I going to do once my other features manifest? They’ll disown me. I was never enough and I never will be. and soon they’ll know it.” Jisung half yelled, half choked out. to say he was terrified would be an understatement. he dreaded the day his animal fully manifested and they knew what he was. which, hint; he wasn’t a fox, or a wolf.

Jeno and Jaemin both hugged him. a last goodbye, a last comfort, and last apology that they couldn’t protect him any more.

Jisung made a strangled sound as he tried to hold back the fresh tears that tried to rip through him, he felt like he was in tatters. he felt like his world was about to end, the pending doom of his parents finding out about him swirling around so angrily in his head he could barely think straight.

Jeno and Jaemin let go of him, moving to stand up. Jeno put his marked hand on Jisung’s shoulder and Jaemin ruffled his hair. “We’ll be back to visit, little one.. don’t worry. No matter how long we might be gone, we’re going to come back.” that was the last thing Jeno said to him before he turned and left, probably going to leave. forever. Jaemin slipped his arms under Jisung’s, tugging him up into a standing position and giving him a real hug. “I’m so sorry we can’t stay... just promise me you’ll be okay, Jisung. Can you do that for me?” he pulled away, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Come on, they were wanting to cut the cake soon. Let’s go.” Jisung nodded “But- before we go, do you want me to cover up the mark on your back?”

he was referring to his manifestation mark. - it was what every hybrid got when they turned of age- a tattoo like marking of their animal would show up somewhere on their body, and it was unpredictable. once it showed up, it was only a matter of time before your animal fully manifested. Jisung had gotten the marking of a kangaroo mouse- and he was deathly ashamed. he had yet to tell his parents, and he would put it off as long as possible.

he just shook his head no and walked out of the closet- dragging Jaemin with him.

“Let’s just get this over with...”

they walked outside- and Jisung took in his surroundings. he saw fairy lights everywhere- he saw the table full of gifts for him. not that he cared anyways. these types of things never really interested him- he didn’t need them. all that mattered were the people around him who cared about him enough to pay attention to the real him, not as the fox hybrid he was expected to be. he looked around saw his mother talking to the head of the bear hybrid family. his eyes widened. had they really invited all the predator families? he shuddered in pure, unmistakeable dread.

Jaemin let go of his hand and smiled at him “Look, i’ve gotta go... but i’m still going to be there for you. We’re going to be taking off in a few hours, just call us if you need to talk or anything.” he gave him one final hug and turned away, the last thing Jisung saw was his fox marking that ran up the back of his calf, that he proudly showed off by cuffing his jeans on that side.

he sighed and turned back to the party, searching for his father. when he met his eyes, his father beckoned him over. he briskly walked over to them, and did a half bow. this was only the head of the top tier elite hybrid families. the order they fell in were the Mythical hybrids, predators, prey, and domestics.

“Good evening, Ms. Dragon. It is an honor to meet you.” he said as he straightened back up from his bow.

she just smiled softly at him “I’m sure it is, young one. and happy birthday.” she said

“Thank you, Ms.”

his father dismissed him and he walked over to the food, opting for peanut butter crackers and sunflower seeds. he decided to sit down to eat under the weeping willow tree- which was the prettiest, with the most fairy lights and a table with a gray table cloth on it, with a few candles.

when he sat down, he was startled yet again, by a boy he hadn’t seen before. why hadn’t he seen him?! he should have looked harder. he looked up at the boy who held out his hand “Nice to meet you, Jisung. i’m Chenle. son of the Tiger family. Oh, and happy birthday.” he said the last part with a bit of a lighter tone than the rest. Jisung stared at the bottom of the tiger marking that ran up his arm and under his shirt for a second before snapping out of it and grabbing his hand and shaking it. “H-hello, it’s nice to meet you as well. And thank you.”

Chenle simply smiled at him again. oh yeah, Jisung could definitely tell he was the son of the tiger family. especially with the fangs he had. it almost made him shudder, but he stopped himself before he made an even bigger fool of himself that night. they were rudely disturbed when some slammed his hands on the table, and it quaked in response.

“How’s your birthday going for you, Jisung?” Mark sneered at him.

he gulped “Mark” he managed to choke out.

mark glared at him, his tail flicking behind him, ears turned back cockily.

Johnny rumbled out a deep laugh beside him, making Jisung flinch. “Not much of a birthday if you ask me. Only a reminder of what a disappointment you are and are going to be.”

Jisung inhaled sharply at that, his breath catching in his throat. “Can i help you, Johnny?”

“Yes, actually. Do me one favor.” Johnny leaned his weight onto the table, supporting himself by his arms. his tale twitching excitedly behind him and his ears twitching as he got joy from tormenting the poor boy. “Disappear” was all he said, before standing up suddenly, smacking his hands on the table, making jisung flinch and walking away, mark following behind him, side eyeing Jisung and snarling as to torture him even more.

he pushed away suddenly, abandoning his food and walking back to his room, trying to appear nonchalant. that night he cried himself asleep, only to be awoken by the maid bringing his his breakfast and presents- that were dropped to the ground in shock.

he shot up from his slumber, eyes puffy and wide. he squinted, trying to see the maid and he grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, though it did nothing. he might have to talk to his mom about getting an appointment to see if he needs an updated prescription.

“G-good morning master. I brought you some- some breakfast and yo-your presents...” they said quietly and he got up, wobbling a little bit. why did his balance feel off? eh. he’s probably just tired.

“Thank you, please leave it on the bed for me.” he said as he wobbled to the bathroom. when he closed the door and looked in the mirror, he shrieked. “Oh, GOD what’s th- oh. OH. It- it’s me- no,, no nononononono this can’t be happening- not now. oh god please not now-“ his frantic panic was interrupted by a knock on the door and his mother checking on him “Sweetie? Are you okay? Can I come i-“

“NO!” he cut her off. he knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t help it. he refused to let her see him until he figure something out. maybe he could fix this- maybe he could get rid of his animal. he shuddered at the thought of being a hollow.

-hollows are people who were once hybrids. they never spoke of how they got rid of their animal part- but after the process they were always hollow- shells of their old selves. but at this point, he didn’t care. he’d do anything to be accepted and seen as someone normal- and in his panic he didn’t think about how much more of a disappointment he’d be if he became a hollow. how much more of a coward he’d be.

“Okay sungie... come get me if you change your mind. I’ll be in the gardens painting.”

he took in a shaky breath as he dared to look in the mirror again. he touched his face as he saw the fluffy light brown ears on his head, and the black dots on the inner corners of his eyes. he pulled up his shirt and turned around to see his now much more prominent kangaroo mouse marking and the tail he now had. he swished it a few times experimentally, and shifted his weight from leg to leg. His balance felt much better than it did before, that’s for certain. maybe this wasn’t so bad after all... he brushed his teeth- an odd experience with his now slightly different teeth and left his room. but not before checking to make sure nobody was there, of course.

he unconsciously started running and maneuvering through the large house on his way to the garden- and nearly ran into the maid from earlier on his way, but hopping out of the way with barely any effort. he laughed, “Sorry about that!” he said, perhaps a little too cheerful

he slowed down to a stop as he reached the doors to the garden. he walked out to his mom slowly and quietly, taking his time, taking in the beautiful scenery she was painting of the luscious garden that was overflowing with plants and life. he inhaled the crisp air and took in the beautiful landscape.

he put his hands on her shoulders “That’s beautiful mom... you always painted so well.” he said through a pained smile

she laughed sweetly “Thank you Jisung. And same goes for you and your dancing! Speaking of which, how has ghat been going for you lately? Weren’t you working on something new?”

“Y-Yeah, I am actually..” his mother always payed attention to things like that. that’s another one of the endless list of reasons why he loved her- on top of being the best mom ever.

“Hey mom, can I tell you... or rather, show you something..? i’m sorry if I disappoint you... i’ve known about it for awhile, and i’m sorry I didn’t tell you.... I was scared of disappointing you and everyone and i’m just so sorry I couldn’t be better...”

she turned around, concern deeply set in her beautiful face and she looked at him. she looked shocked for a second, taking him all in. she stood up suddenly, startling him. she looked angry, sad, upset and disappointed. everything he was afraid of. he looked down at his feet, but she took his chin between her index finger and thumb.

“Now, you listen here boy. I will never be disappointed in you. And i’m sorry for anything i’ve ever done to make you think otherwise. I love you, no matter what. Thank you for trusting me, and thank you for telling me the truth. Now, where is your mark?” she was beaming, a proud look in her eye he didn’t think he’d get to see ever again.

he nearly cried out of happiness, but opted for turning around, pulling up his shirt a little for her to see it on the small of his back. she touched it, amazed. “I always knew you were destined to be so beautiful and elegant..” she said, pride evident in her voice. she turned him around and wrapped him in a tight hug.

their moment was interrupted, however, when he heard the maid from earlier in the distance, and his ears twitched.

“.. I’m telling you sir, it’s horrible! you won’t believe it, your wife! a whore!! and your son, a PREY hybrid!”

“I will see this for myself, maid.” he spat out at

he broke into the clearing, his ears straight up and the hairs in the back of his neck standing up, tail pointed. “Where’s my son!!” he snarled out

his mom pulled her behind him behind her.

“I won’t let you touch him.” she said, trying to defend her beloved son.

he simply smacked her to the ground, disregarding her completely. “We’re getting a divorce, you shameless whore. how dare you not tell me you cheated! and let me believe this was my son?! I refuse to live with a liar any longer. You, maid! send the gifts back immediately.”

Jisung looked up at his father with fear, and back to his mother, who just sat there defeated, not even trying to defend herself, knowing that her husband would never listen to hear reasoning nor would he believe any truths she told.

“And you... you are not my son. You are only going to stay here because I cannot simply kick you out onto the streets. I have a reputation to uphold, and my name would be tainted if I treated you as the worthless scum you are. So know you don’t deserve the mercy I give you, boy.” his father yelled at him before storming off, the maid smiling at him darkly and knowingly before she took off after her master.

as soon as he was gone, he dropped to his knees by his mother and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her head and rubbing her back, shushing her sobs she no longer held back as he let his own quiet tears fall. “I’m so sorry mother... this is all my fault. I’m so sorry I let you down.” he whispered out, but his mother only sobbed louder, any attempts to tell him any different being restrained by her tight throat as she struggled to breathe though her tears.

— time skip, 2 years

two years ago today was the day his mother was ripped from his life- and he from hers.

he padded along the path of the garden. he usually takes care of the plants- as this used to be his mother’s sanctuary, her favorite place to be. he tried to maintain it after she left but sometimes it was just too much. this was one for those times.

his father had was in a relationship with the head of the tiger family, and her son had moved in with her. the same one he’d fallen in love with two years ago, and the same one that hated him.

Chenle always went out of his way to make him miserable, to make his pain worse. but what hurt the most, was that he still loved him.

he sat under the same weeping willow tree he’d fallen in love with Chenle on his 16’th birthday under. he cried for the nth time... but today was different.

today the results of the DNA test he’d finally been able to convince his father to take was arriving. today was the day they’d be proved wrong.

his crying was interrupted as a maid came for him. “The head of the family is waiting for you in the dining area.”

he sniffled and stood up, wiping the tears off his face. he took his time walking to the room, uncertain of what would happen. he trusted his mom, and he believed in her of course. but still couldn’t help but wonder...

“Finally! don’t you know what punctuality is? You should respect him more.”

he simply bowed as his apology, and that seemed to satisfy the tiger enough to quiet her down.

he sat down across from Chenle, fiddling with his tail in his lap and his ears twitching anxiously.

the wolf cleared his throat, demanding

attention. they all looked up at him, and he stood up.

“Tonight, I have decided to reveal the results of a test I took. I know it won’t do any good, but Jisung practically begged it of me.”

he snapped his fingers at a maid, and they brought him an envelope.

he opened it without care, and took out the papers roughly. he froze once he read something which, to say he wasn’t expecting would be an understatement. he scoffed and threw the papers carelessly across the table, and sat down in his chair. he was acting like a child, Jisung and Chenle both thought.

the tigress swiped up the papers, and when she saw what the wolf had seen, she’d had a similar reaction, simply throwing the papers onto the table, ignoring their existence and that she’d ever read it in the first place. he looked up at that wolf and he was seething.

“Well?! aren’t you curious, boy?! Curious as to whether or not your mother is really a whore?!!”

he snatched up the papers and, for the first time in his life, he looked his father dead in the eye and, without faltering even once, he snarled at his dad “I don’t need to see some ink on a paper to know that my mother is no whore.”

he read the papers, and smiled, puffing our air through his nose. this was all he needed. this was the proof he needed against his father’s rash behavior. this was all he needed to feel a significant amount of weight lift off his chest.

he turned from the table and left for his room.

without him noticing, Chenle followed him.

he sat on his bed, papers next to him, staring up at the ceiling.

two gentle knocks cut Into the deafening silence that would have gone unnoticed if Jisung even had as much as music playing.

“Come in.” he said without moving an inch.

Chenle peaked his head timidly into his room, slowly walking in and closing the door behind him gently

Jisung sat up quickly, his nerves suddenly rearing it’s ugly head full force. why couldn’t he just stop already? Chenle didn’t like him back. he knew this. he had told him time and time again how much he hated him, how he was a bastard, and he hated the fact that he’d had to live with the son of a whore.

“I... I came to say i’m sorry.”

Jisung just looked at him confused, shifting on his bed awkwardly.

Chenle shut the door and walked over to him, crawled onto his bed and nested a little bit to get comfy, turning around a few times before plopping down where he found it comfortable. Jisung didn’t even realize he was smiling with adoration until Chenle himself noticed and looked away as his face ignited scarlet.

“look, I know I have no right for any of this. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But i’d still like to tell you my part... if you’d let me.”

after a moment, Jisung nodded at him, basically telling him it was okay.

“Well.. I suppose i’ll start from the beginning.”

he scooted closer to Chenle, staring at his hand and he thought over whether or not he should grab it.. but ultimately he was too scared to. maybe later, he thought.

“Well you see.. when I was younger, I found my father cheating. I tried to tell my mom, but she never listened... and one day, she caught him as well. She grabbed everything she thought necessary when he was out doing it again, she took me and left. It took her years to get over it, and well.. I still haven’t quite been able to. and I know, that doesn’t excuse my behaviors in the slightest. But i’m sorry, Jisung. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.” he said the last part with his hand over Jisung’s, staring as deep into his eyes as was possible for him. his eyes were watery from finally letting all of this go, even if it’s happened all those years ago.

“I.. I understand. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I got a little taste of it as well- even though I pretended I wasn’t still scared about the possibility that..” Jisung couldn’t even bring himself to finish the thought, the pain too great. “So, I know how it might feel.. even if just a fraction.”

Chenle smiled at “Thank you..” he whispered out.

“But there... there’s something else, too.”

Jisung cocked his head at that

“I know you don’t feel the same way.. hell, you might not even be into men, so.. well, i’m just going to say it.”

Jisung’s heart picked up at that. he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it..

“I.... oh fuck it, Park Jisung, i’m in love with you. and I have been for awhile now. I don’t know how long, but.. just that I do. I know i don’t deserve to. I know you deserve better, and i’m sorry if i’m not good enough for you. I’m sorry if you can never love me back. and i’m fine with it. I just hope you won’t hate me forever...”

Jisung was in shock. his mouth was open since Chenle dropped the L bomb. he couldn’t think- he couldn’t speak, and more importantly, he didn’t know what to do. he just stared at him, dumbfounded.

Chenle cleared his throat “I understand. I’ll leave you be then.” he said, trying not to look as hurt as he felt.

as he had just jumped off the bed- Jisung gently grabbed his tail, not hard- but just enough for him to feel it, and Chenle visibly shuddered. he gently tugged on his tail, and he turned around, and Jisung grabbed his wrists and pulled him into himself- and he fell into Jisung.

they fell back onto the bed, and Chenle was startled. at first he tried to pull away until he realized that Jisung was giggling, and had wrapped his tail around his leg.

“I love you too, doofus!” he said, grabbing Chenle’s face in his hands and pulling him down to kiss him, and when he did, oh boy. Chenle had to focus on holding himself up so that he wouldn’t squish Jisung under him.

Jisung was rubbing the white spots on Chenle’s ears and he didn’t realize he was purring until Jisung broke away from the kiss, giggling uncontrollably.

Chenle smiled down at him fondly, the hold he had on his hand in his own tightening as he broke the silence “Who’d have thought, the cat and the mouse....”

#nct #nct dream #nct dream au #jaemin #Jeno #Chenle #Jisung #nct hybrid au #nct angst #nct fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff

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freakynct · 4 years ago

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I'M FUCKING FREAKING OUT MY DADDY JOHNNY GOT A TATTOO OH MY GOD I SWEAR I'M CRYING IT'S MESSAGE IS SO POSITIVE AND CUTE PLUS SUNFLOWER IS MY FAV FLOWER HELP ME I'M DYING!!! Also, I luv u! -😺

i really thought it wasn't real at first haha but i'm so happy he was open about it with us and that he explained the meaning behind it, it's so cute uwu so many members are getting tattoos, this is too much to take in!! love u too ♡

#ask #🐱 anon

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queermikehanlon · 7 years ago

Text

Birds of Paradise (Stanlon AU)

Summary: When Stan was eighteen he started running a flower shop and now as he's three years older he's made friends with the tattoo apprentice next door, Mike.

Words: 4494

ao3

A/N: This is part one of three! I don't know how often I'll update it but I wanted to get something posted before the end of the year. This idea came and I ran with it. I hope you all enjoy it!

One / Two / Three

Stan loved his little shop. When he started it at the age of eighteen, he didn’t expect to love it as much as he did now. He started the flower shop because he loved gardening and he thought it would be the good way to make some money while he put himself through his business classes at the local community college. Now, Stan is twenty-one; this job was his main aspiration and his eighteen-year-old plans of being an accountant were thrown out the window.

Stan lived his life with sun shining through long windows and his life was surrounded by bright colors. The heat from his UV lamps in the shop made him feel warm and cozy on a winter day. Stan’s building mates (the owners of the other half of his building, a tattoo parlor) were nice and didn’t make his life hell like his past mates. Life is good.

Stan’s life is full of flowers and lovely people needing bouquets for their significant others, their friends, people needed well wishes, and weddings. It was sunflowers and roses, lilies and daisies, carnations and hydrangeas. Stan had his loving friends and a good relationship with his parents. Life is good.

Life had gotten even better for him when the bell rung on his shop after lunch on a sunny Wednesday.

Stan had been moving around the orange clay pots, making sure the matured flowers that were the prettiest were out in the shop so all his customers could see the pretty ones, and all the ones that were getting a little old or the ones that weren’t matured yet were in his small greenhouse in the back. Stan had his little grey and green cloth gloves on and his shop was looking fuller and pretty. The bell above the door jingled and Stan turned to face whomever came in.

A man wearing a black Henley with the sleeves cut off and a chain with a class ring hung around his neck. His dark skin had a few dark thin lines of tattoos. He was glancing around the shop with nervous eyes. Stan set his small pot of petunias on the counter and made his way behind it to greet the guy.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

The guy, who couldn’t be more than a couple months older than Stan himself (and very good looking, if you asked Stan), wrung his finger together and spoke. “My mom and my grandma are coming into town for a visit and I need anything you can throw together.”

“All right, I can set you up.” Stan pulled the fingers of his gloves and took them up and got some hand sanitizer. “When are they coming in?”

“Tonight.” The man spoke, leaning his hands on the counter. “They surprised me with a call while they were at the airport, and I can’t call 1800 flowers, not after last time.”

Stan’s eyes widened, and he nodded his head with affirmation. “Okay, we can do this, don’t worry. Do you know what flowers or what colors they like?”

The man sighed with relief and let his shoulder’s drop. “My mom likes irises and the color yellow and my grandma like all the small pink flowers. That I do know.”

“Yeah, we can do that. Give me a quick minute to pull out some stuff from the back and let’s see what we can make up, yeah?”

The guy nodded his head and let himself lean down a little on his elbows.

Stan moved quickly throughout the back, grabbing small plastic cups of flowers as samples to show him, the guy who he had yet to be introduced to.

Stan loved making compositions and loved it when his mind ran through all the possibilities of different flower combinations. It was what he used to do with numbers that made him good at accounting and what he still did sometimes with his intrusive thoughts (Only sometimes now. The medication he took now helped him a lot more than his fourteen-year-old self would like to admit). Colors and sizes and shapes went through quick.

Stan pulled out some yellow pansies (pink was the most popular for pansies so he kept those out front and all the other colors in the back) and some more orange than yellow poppies. He had some irises up front and wait to get those later.

For the second bouquet, Stan grabbed some baby pink peonies and some of the same shade of carnations, then some light lavender colored petunias. With his arms full of small, plastic pots of flowers he pushed to the swinging door with his back and laid the small plastic pots on the counter in front of the guy. “It’s two different bouquets, right?”

The man nodded and spoke. “Uh, yeah.”

Stan smiled and grouped the flowers into two separate bouquets. Then he moved away from the counter and grabbed one of the pots from the window, the pot that had irises in it. Stan started his little rant, his little flower rant. “This is what I’m thinking: we have the irises and we have the yellow pansies to make the purple stand out. Then we have some orange poppies to make the blue in the irises stand out. We just need something white or cream colored to make all the other colors stand out.”

The guy leaned forward. “Aren’t there little flowers that look like this,” his fingers brushed over the petals of the yellow pansy, “but like, smaller and like cream colored? I think I did a piece with them a few weeks ago. Johnny somethings.”

“Johhny Jump Ups.” Stan spoke in recognition. “I think I have some of those, not a lot of people ask for them. Let me check.”

Stan went through the back and went through his little plots and he found the Johnny Jump Ups, small and white and a related to the pansies. The ones had a little touch of lavender on the ends of the petals but that would go well so there wasn’t too much yellow in the bouquet. Stan came back through the door.

“These are perfect.” Stan sat them down. “They’re small enough to fill it up but pretty enough so they’re not out of place.”

“Yeah, I did a few flashes with them, I got used to drawing them.” The customer said. With Stan’s confused look he explained. “I’m an apprentice at the tattoo parlor next door, it was such a relief to have this shop next door with them coming to town.”

“Oh, yeah cool. I guess you do a lot of flower stuff.”

“Yeah, almost once a day, probably even more once I’m not an apprentice and I’m a fully licensed artist.”

“That’s really cool.” Stan smiled, and they were both leaned in over the flowers and he looked at the guy, and for some reason he actually noticed him.

Dark brown eyes and hair that was long on the top and faded on the sides with two stipes shaved on the right side. He was handsome, and Stan reveled in it. Stan wasn’t closeted by any means, but he didn’t announce that he was gay to the entire world all the time at work. He leaned back, showing off the other flowers.

“And for your grandma’s set I was thinking these peonies with the carnations and the light purple petunias. It’s a lot softer than the other one.”

“You thought of all of that on the spot back there?” He asked, with a chuckle, still leaned over the counter. “Are you a wizard?”

Stan took a moment to consider it. “Yes. The flower wizard, making sure that everyone has something pretty.”

The man laughed. “Good, I would only trust a flower wizard to make these bouquets.”

“So you like the idea? The flowers all together?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing, perfect, thank you.”

Stan went to the drawer behind the counter and got one of his order slips, a big pad of paper with the white, yellow, and pink sheets. The customer info, the types of flowers, everything that Stan could think of to make sure that he got everything right.

He began writing, one slip he wrote the flowers iris, pansies, poppies, Johnny Jump Ups, the on the other he wrote peonies, carnations, and petunias.

“Can I get your name?” Stan asked, both for the order and because he wanted to know it. The man was cute, a good sense of humor, and he knew a little bit about flowers? Sign Stan up.

(He was by no means closeted, all of his friends knew and his high school bullies are long gone in New England. He didn’t put a rainbow flag in his shop to announce it to the whole world, but when cute men come in your shop for flowers? Can Stan take it as a sign?)

“Michael. Mike Hanlon.”

“Alright, I’ll get this form all filled out for you. You said they were coming in tonight, when will you need them by?”

Mike put his hands up, “Don’t drop other stuff to get mine done quickly. I don’t want you to-“

Stan stopped him. “Mike, it’s two bouquets. I can do them pretty quick. What time do you need them done?”

Mike bit his lip and thought. “I can come by before 6, or you could drop them off in the parlor considering that our door goes into my room.”

Stan thought about the door, the one that connected their two shops. Stan had never gone through the door, as courtesy more than not wanting to (c’mon Stan was always curious). “I always wondered what I’d find on the other side. I guess I didn’t want to accidentally run into something awkward or something.”

Mike laughed. “Just little ol’ me. Thank you so much for doing this, on such short notice.”

Should Stan say what he thought? You’re cute so it’s fine? “It’s no problem, honestly. I’m just going to need your phone number to complete the order form.”

“And not for yourself? I’m hurt.” Mike had a teasing smile on his lips and Stan’s ear went red with embarrassment because Mike managed to guess what Stan was thinking.

“I guess I’ll have to use it for myself too then, just so that your feelings aren’t hurt.” Stan was quick with his wits, he got that from being friends with his bunch of boys. Making sure you didn’t crumble under the pressure of a bad burn, Stan learned how to one up his friends.

“Good. It’d be a shame if I find this cute guy and he wouldn’t call me on a professional courtesy.”

Stan’s blush moved from his ears to his cheeks. “Well, what is that phone number?”

Mike rattled off the phone number and Stan wrote it down on the order form. When he capped his pen and looked back up at Mike, he was closer than he was when Stan had looked down.

Mike held his phone out to Stan, showing him the new contact page that he opened his phone up to. Stan bit his lip. “How will I know it’s the cute flower shop guy who’s calling me and not one of my clients?”

Stan grinned but tried to keep it so he wasn’t showing it to much and he took the phone in his fingers. He typed out his name and his number, making sure that everything was right so that Mike had the right number. “I guess I can give it to you then, just so you don’t get confused with one of your clients and not so you can text me later and ask me to hang out.”

“Or something else?” Mike’s voice was raised, and his smile was teasing. Stan hadn’t had someone come on to him as strong as this since he went to the gay bar for the first (and last) time.

(That was a mistake that his friends had made, and he was dragged along. Gay bars make their drinks to strong and Stan found out the hard way.)

“Or something else.” Stan agreed.

Stan went back to the order form and ripped it out of the pad, taking the pink carbon copies and giving them to Mike. “These are your receipts.”

Mike took them, making sure to go the extra mile and touch Stan’s hand when he did. It was obvious to Stan that he did it on purpose, but he didn’t mind.

(Sure, he’d have to wash his hands later, but he would wait until Mike had left so he wasn’t acting out with it.)

“Thank you for doing this, Stanley; it means a lot.”

“Stan,” he corrected. “or Stanley, if you prefer.” He forgot about the name embroidered on his shirt that had his full frst name.

“Okay, Stan.” Mike smiled. “I think my break’s about to end soon, so I should probably be getting back before they fire me or something.”

Mike pulled out his wallet and looked at the price on his receipt and paid. Stan put the cash in his register, typing fast on the keypad so he could get back to talking to Mike as soon as possible. Stan went back to the counter and held the receipt form in his hand, curling the corner of the paper in between his fingers to keep them busy with his anxious energy talking to Mike. “I’ll be by. Before six, that’s what you said?”

“Yeah, thank you so much for this.”

Stan laughed a little. “It’s my job to make bouquets, you don’t have to thank me.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have to thank you.” Mike glanced at his watch, then glancing back up with the same nervous eyes that he had when he walked in the door. “Now I really have to go, but I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

Mike walked out the door, the bell jingling behind him. Stan watched and when he saw Mike through the window, Mike was glancing inside looking back at Stan. They made the other smile just at the thought of them not wanting to leave and wanting to look at each other more.

When Mike was out of Stan’s sight he let out a breath, of relief or of something else; Stan didn’t know. He stood in his spot behind the counter and let his wrists that still held his paper fall to the counter so he had something to ground himself to, and maybe, he should start on those bouquets.

It was five fifty-five. Stan had two bouquets in his hands, the one for Mike’s mother wrapped in a silvery white paper to cover the stems and the one for his grandmother in a gold. He held them in his hands and he waited by the door that was shared between the tattoo parlor and his flower shoppe. Mike said he could come through the door, that it goes to his room in the studio, but Stan felt that him walking through the door was too much, too casual. At least for right now.

He went through the greenhouse to get to the door that separated the backrooms from the shop that Stan made to be the prettiest part because if a flower shop wasn’t pretty no one wanted to shop there and that was half of Stan’s job in running the place.

He took out a sign from behind the counter and made his way out the front door of his shop. The sign that said ‘Sorry, you missed me! I’ll be back in ten minutes!’ He didn’t really close the shop until around eight thirty, because some people like to get last minute flowers for dates, but he didn’t open until nine thirty to make up for it. He didn’t like to leave the store alone, in case he missed someone, but because he was the only one working today (he usually had his friends pick up shifts on the weekends when they needed some extra cash) so he would have to leave the shop alone for a few minutes.

Stan made sure he still had his keys in his pocket and walked out the door, balancing the flower bouquets and the sign in his hands while he locked the door behind him and made his way out in the cooling air. He hung up his sign on the little nook that hung outside on the door frame. This sign went over his open sign and once it was on there okay Stan walked the few feet to the door of the tattoo parlor.

In just walking the few feet Stan could see the differences between his shop and theirs. Stan’s windows were filled with green leaves and the dusty yellow that reminded him of some old Spanish building, along with all the orange clay pots and the beige clay vases that his friend, Bill, made sometimes when he was having blocks with his writing.

When Stan walked over in front of the windows of the tattoo parlor he saw the walls were painted a dark red and the black leather furniture. The decals on the windows blocked some of his view but he could see the different pictures on the walls of the small tattoos that you could get.

Stan opened the door and then felt incredibly out of place in the parlor. He felt awkward in his work button down and his khaki shorts and tennis shoes.

“Can I get you some help?” Stan’s head turned to the sound of the reception desk.

Red curly hair and the side of her head pulled into two tight braids. The arms that were covered in a see through pink long sleeve. Black chipped nail polish. Stan recognized the girl behind the counter. “Beverly?”

Beverly was dating Ben and Ben was friends with Stan. Stan and Ben had met in high school, along with all their other friends and with their movie nights Beverly had come along some nights and they had become okay friends, not the best of friends but they could hang out with each other.

“Stanley, hey.” Beverly pushed her curly hair off of her face and sat up a little more. “Can I interest you in a tattoo?”

“I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Ben never mentioned?”

Stan shrugged, the bouquets still in his hands. “He mentioned you were a tattoo artist, I don’t think he mentioned that you worked right next to my flower shop.”

Beverly laughed. “I didn’t know you worked next door. Maybe I can come hang out in there rather than eat in our dirty break room.”

“Hey, I cleaned that break room!” A man around their same age shouted across the room. He had been hunched over a desk and writing something. Stan had barely acknowledged that he was there.

“Not good enough! Apparently!” Beverly shouted back then turned back to Stan. “What can I help you with?”

Stan blushed, and held the flowers tighter in his hands. “I’m actually looking for Mike?”

Beverly smiled and glanced at the flowers in Stan’s hands. Stan recognized the sly smile on Beverly’s face. “Those flowers for Mike?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, then corrected himself. “He made an order and I’m delivering them. I need to deliver them.”

Beverly winked. “Of course, you do. I’ll take you back there.”

Beverly got up from her seat and got out from behind the counter and Stan moved forward. Beverly walked to the hallway in the back and Stan followed, albeit a little slowly trying to take in the parlor as it was showed to him. It was a little bigger than his own shop, but his shop floor was small so his back room would be bigger to hold all of the flowers he had to grow, all of the pots he had to keep and the piles of dirt. the parlor was able to open up all of their shop so anyone could be in it. Stan liked the openness of their floor.

“Mike is apprenticing right now so he’s probably tattooing on a banana or something.” Beverly chuckled, as if it were an inside joke. “Maybe you could be Mike’s first client, eh? Thinking about getting a little flower tattoo in a place where the sun don’t shine?”

Stan blushed. “No, tattoos aren’t really my thing.”

Stan didn’t feel like describing the entirety of being Jewish and having tattoos so he just left it at that. Beverly turned down a hallway and shrugged. “Maybe when you see what Mike can do with a pen will make you change your mind.”

Stan twisted his fingers around the flower stems wrapped in the foil. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beverly knocked on the door at the end of the hallway and opened the door. “Mikey? You gotta visitor!”

Stan looked through the open door and saw Mike at a desk, a lamp and a few knick-knacks on the table and a tattoo bench in the middle of the room. Mike looked up and then saw Stan behind Beverly. “Thanks Bevvie.”

Beverly stood there and waited. Stan walked through the door, standing beside Beverly rather than behind her. Mike put his pencil down and faced them. “You can leave now, Bev.”

“Maybe I want to stay and watch the show. Stanley wouldn’t mind, would you, Stanley?”

Before Stan could think of a rushed response, Mike stood up and stood facing Bev. He put his hand out and slightly pushed Bev back out of the doorway. Mike put a smile on his face and used his fingers to wave goodbye to her as he closed the door.

“Y’all best not be fucking when I check on you!” She shouted then Stan hear footfalls that were getting softer and quieter as he assumed Bev went down the hallway.

“Yeah, Bev’s not the kindest one in the bunch she’s cool.” Mike said, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I know. I’m friends with her boyfriend.” Stan told him. He sat on the tattoo bench, but he didn’t lay back like you were meant to, just sat down with his knees together and the flowers in his hand. The flowers! “Oh, here are your flowers!”

Mike looked as if he almost forgot about the flowers the same as Stan. “Oh yeah.”

Mike took the flowers from Stan’s hands and held them up and looked at them. “These look better than what you made in the shop. How do you do it?”

Stan smiled. “I thought we talked about that, I’m a flower wizard.”

“Oh right of course.”

Mike sat in his chair, which he rolled so that he was closer to Stan. Stan looked around the room and saw that the room was bare and unlike the lobby of the parlor and didn’t have many frames of drawings or any small tattoos. There were a few, some of snakes or flowers, then some geometric shapes made into wolves and elephants. Then just a few photos that Stan didn’t want to get too close to look at lest he seem too interested and stalkerish.

“You did all those drawings? They’re amazing.” Stan stood up from his seat and stepped closer to look at the drawings even closer, seeing the pen marks making the scratchy sketch lines.

“Thanks,” Mike said. “I actually wanted to ask you something?”

Stan turned away from the drawings and faced Mike, who was still sitting in his chair. “Yeah, sure, ask away.”

Mike bit his lips and Stan noticed him scratching his thumb with his index finger, something Stan did when he was fidgeting too.

“Maybe, if you’re free and if you wanted to, you want to go see a movie with me? Maybe Friday night?”

Stan smiled shyly, but he had to make sure. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mike?”

Mike’s nervous smile dropped, and his eyes widened. “Did I read this the wrong way or?”

“No,” Stan said quickly, hoping to cover up his mistake in Mike thinking he wasn’t into it. ”No, just making sure. I want to go on a date with you. I think we’d have a fun time.”

Mike shoulders dropped and a smile spread across his face. “Okay, cool, yeah.”

Stan and Mike waited in the room in silence, a comfortable one. Stan was not one to just go out with a guy, especially one that he meant that day, but maybe this guy was good? Bev seemed to like him, and that seemed good in Stan’s eyes, even though he didn’t know her well. (Stan trusted Ben and if Ben trusted and loved Bev then that was good enough for Stan.)

Mike had a way to himself, maybe it was the way he spoke or maybe it was the way that held himself but Stan wanted to know more about him, spend more time with him and maybe taking chances that he normally wouldn’t would make it so that Stan would actually get a boyfriend.

“I should probably get going back to my store.” Stan said softly. He didn’t want to go away so soon. “I think maybe you should use my number when you figure out what movie we’re going to see.”

“Yeah, I definitely will.”

Stan, in something that wasn’t Stan at all, touched Mike’s shoulder in saying goodbye. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Not unless I visit tomorrow.”

Stan smirked. “The store’s usually slowest in the morning, just for future reference.”

A knock came at the door and Stan jumped at the sudden noise. Then Beverly’s voice called through the door. “Boys! What’s going on in there?”

Stan walked closer to the door and put his hand on the door knob and let him turn the knob and open the door to Beverly who had her ear pressed to the door. When the door was away from her face, she slowly stood up straight. “Have you been standing here the whole time?”

“No,” Beverly stated, very quick with her response. Stan looked at her with his eyebrows raised and she shrugged. “You think I’d waste my time eavesdropping on my dear, dear friends?”

“Yes,” Mike answered. “You definitely would.”

Stan walked past her and turned around to Mike. “You’ll text me later?”

Mike nodded his head with a smile and Beverly looked between them with her head turning back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. Stan laughed at her.

“Well, I’ll see you later then.”

Stan walked out of the room and down the hallway back to his shop. He walked through the lobby, seeing the guy that shouted at Bev earlier and gave a small wave when he looked at Stan. He walked outside and took the sign from the door and went back into his warm and cozy shop, waiting for Friday to come and the text that would start Stan and Mike talking again.

#stanlon #stan uris #stanley uris #mike hanlon #del writes #del posts

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shirtshoping · 5 years ago

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shirtshoping · 5 years ago

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tshirt shoping 21

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