#k-dinernet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neonun-au · 4 years

Text

gallery of the lost | ten

pairing: artist!ten x reader genre: fluff, contemplative angst, mixed bag warnings: none word count: 2.1k song: real love (cover) by regina spektor

For @127-mile Émi, I hope you enjoy this~

Ten strides through the empty gallery, casting his critical gaze over months of his hard work. All of his blood, sweat, and tears hanging on the stark white walls--a brilliant display of colour and lines traversing canvas and paper. His soul hung out for public viewing and discussion.

Or at least, it would be for public viewing if anyone had shown up to the gallery opening.

Torrential rain poured down outside, flooding the streets and stations with the most precipitation the city had seen in months. Washing his paper thin hopes for his big break down the gutters along with it.

The gallery owner had left an hour before with a profuse apology--both for her leaving and for the abysmal turn out. He brushed off her platitudes with a hollow smile and waved her off into the rain, offering to lock up when the showing was scheduled to end. Grasping a hold of the final remnants on his rapidly dissolving pride.

The rain beats rhythmically against the window panes as Ten stands, arms crossed, staring at the largest piece in his collection. His eyes traverse over the intricate line-work, picking apart every detail as he tries to distract himself from the ticking of the clock. The hours counting down like years as he remains in the deserted gallery with nothing but his self-flagellating thoughts.

Friends had sent congratulations, family sent well-wishes, old professors and coworkers sent their opinions--all of it sunk like stones in his chest. The melancholy builds to a crescendo, thoughts bouncing around in his skull, sharpening the dull ache in the back of his head. A cacophony of noises so deafening inside his mind that he doesn’t notice when the door chimes open.

When soft, wet footsteps fall against the concrete floor as they make their way towards him. Doesn’t even notice as a figure comes to stand next to him--eyes fixed on the canvas hung on the wall before you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, shivering, “is the gallery closed?”

Ten feels his heart leap into his throat in fear. Eyes wide and startled, he whips his head towards you and takes in your disheveled appearance. Drenched from the rain outside. “No,” he replies, gathering his wits, “it’s open. Are you just looking to get out of the storm for a bit?”

“No, actually…” you trail off with a soft laugh, glancing up at him, “I came to see the showcase. I’ve been following the artist for a while online.”

Ten can’t hide the shock in his expression as he gapes at you--open mouthed and silent--like a fish caught in a net. The atmosphere grows awkward as the seconds tick by and the silence pervades until you clear your throat to speak, “are you the gallery owner?”

Ten shakes his head, “No, I’m…” he hesitates before continuing, “a friend.”

“Ah,” you hum, shifting your gaze back towards the painting. You stand in silence--your eyes fixed on the canvas, Ten’s eyes fixed on you--the rain pounds rhythmically against the window panes. A liminal space, a moment stretching out to infinity. In might have been years until you spoke next, or it might have been mere seconds. “What do you think of it?” The spell is broken with the question and Ten turns to evaluate his work in this new world.

“Hmm, I think it’s a bit naive. Ambitious, but maybe not entirely successful.”

“Wow,” you turn to him, startled, “that’s pretty harsh. Glad I’m not in the arts.”

Ten laughs, nodding, “what do you think?”

“I’m not sure I can put it into words,” shaking your head in dismay, “I’ve been looking at his art for so long online, but seeing it in person is...it’s a completely different experience, honestly.”

“How so?”

“It feels much more lonely in person,” your eyes traverse the meandering lines--weaving in and out, back and together. A labyrinth of colour and space stretched across white canvas. Your thoughts follow in a similar fashion. Weaving amongst themselves, tying up in knots. You pause to gather the loose strings together before trying to put them into words, “I think that’s what drew me to them at first online. The colours and the chaos of it is joyful, but there is something there in the empty spaces. Something unspoken and very, very lonely. When I look at these paintings, I can almost picture him making them. Alone in some studio apartment, covered in paint splatter--hours of silence with nothing but his own thoughts,” a sharp inhale as thunder claps overhead, disturbing the air around you, “or maybe I’m just projecting.” You close your thoughts with a shy laugh, scratching at the back of your neck and peering at Ten out of the corner of your eye.

Ten has poured hundreds of hours into this painting. Conceptualizing, creating, tearing his hair out in the midnight hours--but it’s only now that he feels he is seeing them for the first time. That he feels like he is being seen for the first time. He gazes up at the painting with new eyes, seeing his life unfold before him in the expanse--his hopes, his dreams, his heart splattered out on the canvas in a medley of reds and oranges.

“No,” he says, emotions swirling in his chest like a tropical storm, “no, I think you might be right.”

“Do you know the artist?” You ask, gracing him with a small smile as you shrug your coat off and hang it over your arm.

“I do,” he muses, smile playing at the edges of his lips. Torn between the honest confession gnawing at his tongue and the desire to continue in the cloud of anonymity. He gives in to his desires.

“Is he here tonight?”

“He was,” Ten shrugs.

“Oh,” you respond, a little disheartened, “that’s too bad.”

The fallen expression on your face twists something inside Ten’s gut, and he attempts to distract it by leading you towards another painting. One tucked further in the interior of the gallery. “You seem to have a lot to say about his work,” he starts, hesitant yet curious, “I’d be interested to hear more.”

“I haven’t seen this one before,” you marvel up at the large painting--absorbing the way the fluorescent lights of the gallery bounce and reflect off the melody of colours mingling together.

“It’s new,” he affirms, “for the gallery showing.”

Ten watches as your eyes roam over the canvas, waiting in silence for your verdict. For years he had to live with the hollow compliments and criticisms of friends and loved ones. To have someone take such a keen interest in his work was a new experience--an experience he didn’t want to end. He felt selfish--lying to you, asking you for your thoughts. He felt like a child grasping with greedy fingers for another slice of cake, for another cookie before bed. He felt half-crazed with curiosity and drunk with the acknowledgement.

For someone he has never met before to affect him so much was like a cold shower. Finally, he was awake.

“I mean, I’m not really an art critic or anything,” you respond, playing with your fingers, but never letting your eyes fall from the art hanging in front of you, “I’m not sure how much my half-baked thoughts really matter.”

“Mm,” he hums, thoughtful, “they probably matter more than you realize.”

“Umm, okay,” you inhale deeply, as if breathing in the painting, “I suppose this one also has a feeling of loneliness to it. But it’s more subtle. Most of all I can feel the hope, but it’s almost…”

Ten feels his heart stop beating in his chest, his breath caught somewhere in his throat as he waits for you to continue. His hands shake at his side and he tucks them into the pockets of his slacks to quell their movement before you take notice.

“It’s almost desperate. Like he’s trying so hard to be noticed, to be recognized--its like the final gasp of air before you dive into cold water. But,” you glance up at him with a wry smile, “I’m probably just projecting again.”

Ten barks out a short laugh before guiding you to the next painting, eagerly listening as you ramble your thoughts out in the white space of the gallery--musings and tangled thoughts for his ears only.

The storm continues raging outside--beating against the roof and the windows with a ferocity not seen in years--but inside you’re lost in your own world. A bubble of thoughts and emotions, both expressed and hidden away behind words and glances. The minutes bleed into hours and finally the rain begins to slow.

“Oh, it’s getting late,” you say, glancing at the clock in alarm. “I should go,” you sound unconvinced, but slip back into your jacket anyway. Feet stalling in place as your eyes wander back up to Ten’s face--questioning.

“Will you be back?” He asks, hoping against hope as he slowly walks you towards the entrance. He sees you hesitate and scrambles for some excuse, some reason, to offer you. To draw you back in. “I’m pretty sure the artist is going to be here. I can introduce you.”

“Really?” Eyes wide, hope shining out through their depths and illuminating the space around Ten as he nods in affirmation. “I can probably come here after work, then, if it’s not too much of an imposition...”

He waves off your last statement with a dismissive hand, “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

Ten watches as you step out onto the rain-soaked sidewalk--figure illuminated in the glow of the street lamps. He watches as you wave and continues to stare out onto the street long after you’ve disappeared around a corner. Fear and anticipation for the next evening sitting in his chest like a stone as he turns off the lights and locks the gallery up.

Ten strides through the empty gallery, casting his gaze around over the years of his work collected on the walls. Memories painted and drawn, hung on stark white walls in brilliant display. The same gallery space he first showed his work in all those years ago--stuck in time like some relic. The same white walls, the same grey, concrete floors, even the same rain pelting down on the window panes.

At the back of the gallery he sees you standing, illuminated in a wash of blue-white lights from the fixture overhead. A sharp inhale, and he steps towards you. Heart thrumming wildly inside his chest--more and more insistent with each step he takes.

“What do you think?” He asks, hands trembling as he slips them into his pockets. Even now, after all these years, he feels himself waiting with bated breath as you examine his work. Paintings you have seen in all states--from conception to creation. Still you gaze over the canvas as though you’ve never seen it before, humming with thought.

“Ten,” you smile up at him--sincere and open. “I’m so proud of you.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead--smile pressed gently against your skin. “I’m glad,” he shifts, taking your hand in his and turning towards you with a smile--warmth radiating as his heart swells in his chest. “Do you remember my first showing here?”

“You mean when you lied to me about who you are?” You retort with a coy smile, squeezing his hand in good humour, “yes, of course I remember.”

“It was my first showing in a professional gallery, and not a single person showed up,” he notices you open your mouth to speak--to offer some platitude, some reason--but he stops you and continues, “no one except for you.”

Brushing a stray lock of hair off your forehead Ten takes a breath--breathing in the feeling of the moment. The feeling of your soft hand in his, the silence of the empty gallery surrounding you. A silence filled with the love he feels coursing through his veins, “you were the only person that showed up, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

With a smile, he slips his hand back into his pocket--fingers clasping onto the small, velvet box inside--and drops to one knee. “Will you--” he barely gets half the words out before you silence him with the shock and overwhelm that bursts forth at the sight.

“Yes, oh my god, Ten!”

Laughing, he stands and wraps his arms around you. In a small gallery, surrounded by his artwork--a painted history of his life and of your relationship as it moved and shifted through the years. Filtered through Ten’s eyes, and expressed in an array of colour and shapes. Vibrant and alive.

You stand, wrapped in each other's arms, as the rain beats against the window panes outside.

#nct-writers #kconnet #nctcreations #k-dinernet #unfortunatus: paradiso #ten fluff #nct ten #wayv ten #wayv fluff #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #ten x reader #nct fluff #drabble #my writing

213 notes · View notes

serialee · 3 years

Text

◈ Ateez Reaction: You Falling Asleep ◈

↬ Genre: SFW || Wc: 981

☁ ot8 x reader

💔 mention of horror film - clowns

↬ Net: @ficscafe | @k-library | @k-dinernet | @lovesick-net | @prism-nw || 'DREAMLAND MASTERLIST' || 'NAVIGATION' |

◆ KIM HONGJOONG ◆

You were with him in his room while you both worked on different things. It was getting late and you were getting sleepy because of the calm and soft music being played from Hongjoong's speakers. You yawned and folded your laptop. He felt you changing positions, snuggling up to him and wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your head. He whispered his good night and let you drift off to sleep. The next morning, he surprised you with a short and sweet instrumental he composed while you were asleep, sadly he wasn't able to fully commit to sleep that night and knocked out the morning after.

◆ PARK SEONGHWA ◆

You were already fast asleep in his warm and welcoming embrace that night. It was your birthday but you fell a little sick. So instead of going out to celebrate, Seonghwa brought the party to you. He had few things planned but you retired early. While you were sleeping, he sneakily prepared a late night dinner for you and his special chocolate drink. He surprised you in bed when you woke up, smiling bright like the stars seen in the night sky. Your smile got brighter and his laughter could be heard when he pulled out a box from under the bed. Inside it was a chain of polaroid pictures he took of you sleeping and him decorating your sleeping state with the things he bought online. How adorable.

◆ JUNG YUNHO ◆

He had been the perfect boyfriend, helping you out with packing all of your things and even offering to go with you to see your parents on a 7 hour drive. You know better than anyone that Yunho was tired and insisted on driving despite him battering his eyelashes at you. You were doing great. 3 hours later was a breeze but soon your eyelids begin to drop. Noticing how sleepy you were getting, Yunho practically forced you to switch drivers as you sleep the rest of the ride. Once a while he'd glance over to you sleeping with the seat pushed back down and curled into a ball, always monitoring the temperature of the ac to your body so you never got too cold or too hot.

◆ KANG YEOSANG ◆

Falling asleep on the couch of his living room after watching a horror film was a mistake on your part, even if you had your eyes covered 80% of the times. Because now you were scared and very sensitive to your surroundings, something Yeosang knew and took advantage of. Behind your back, he slipped on his green clown costume and tiptoed right in front of your face. He tapped your shoulder and you nearly had a heart attack that very night. Rumours about the building being haunted were the cause of your frightened screaming. Yeosang only wished he had the whole fiasco filmed. You'll get your revenge soon enough. Yeosang had better watch his back.

◆ CHOI SAN ◆

Finals week are stressful for anyone and you were no different. As the top student, it wasn't that you weren't confident in yourself but you were stressed over having to teach your boyfriend, the figure covered in tattoos and a lip piercing who didn't care as much as you did. Quick to think, he grabbed your wrist and urged you onto his bike. San believes that what you needed was a refresher, something being on his bike would do the trick. He was right. The cool night breeze was relaxing and you nearly fell asleep on his back - so he had to stop and let you sleep on his shoulder on top of the hill over looking the night city and lights.

◆ SONG MINGI ◆

So lets count how many plushies you had on your bed. A lot, more than you expected. Mingi had asked you out on a date, a date to the amusement park. Hours spent on your feet going on different rides and all. Before going home, you suggested to leave the park with souvenirs and invited him to play one of those shooting down the target booth games. Needless to say, you both were good at the game and kept winning rounds. Pink, purple, yellow, blue, green, you name it and there was a plushie in that colour. Too tired to think about how you'd put them away, fatigue took over both bodies and you ended up cuddling the plushies to sleep beside each other.

◆ JUNG WOOYOUNG ◆

Things needed to be perfect and it couldn't go wrong. You worked hard today, running around the city from places to places and purchasing things you needed to celebrate your 2 year anniversary with Wooyoung. You've set up everything but the only problem was that he was running late. You played hype songs to make yourself stay awake but you still fell asleep and he saw that. You'd think he'd be sweet with a blanket for you but no. Wooyoung ran into the bedroom and filled the water gun to the brim. Hesitating to shot at you was not on his mind. Long story short, the night ended up with a water gun war and an even wetter floor.

◆ CHOI JONGHO ◆

He was not having it. He wasn't happy with you. Time and time again that day you reassured Jongho that you felt fine, he didn't buy it. Even if you were fine, you weren't going to be. You hadn't slept for 2 nights. Were you studying or completing assignment? No. You barely slept because of the addicting new drama on Netflix. A pathetic excuse he told you and you just laughed at his pout. The drama got more of your attention that he was getting. On the third night, he locked the bedroom door and locked you in an engulfing bear hug. His big hands caressed down your nose bridge and massaged your closed eyelids, putting you to sleep in a blink of an eye.

↬ Let me know if you'd like to be added into // taken off tags.

↬ My other works are listed under 'Dreamland' || 'Navigation' |

#ateez fics #ateez x reader #lsn.works #prism.nw #kdiner #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ficscafe #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines

266 notes · View notes

omaluv · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲. — 𝐣𝐣𝐡

jaehyun x gn!reader. angst, fluff. 340 words.

warnings! — like one swear word

jaehyun walks into the room as quietly as he possibly can. taking another step, he winces as the floorboard beneath him squeaks, inadvertently announcing his presence to you. your head snaps in his direction, automatically glaring at his figure.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you ask, irritated. he raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping closer to you, though he halts at the warning look you give him.

“i just wanted to talk—”

“well, i don’t, so you can leave now.”

“please, y/n, just hear me ou—”

you snap, “i said no! so please, get the fuck out of my room!”

“it’s our room!” he bites back. letting out an infuriated exhale, he looks away from you as he tries to calm down. the way his tongue pokes at his cheek while he’s practically fuming makes you gulp.

“ugh, fine, let’s hear it then,” you give in, but not without rolling your eyes. jaehyun raises a brow at you in disbelief.

“all that attitude earlier and for what?” he scoffs.

“hey, watch it,” you threateningly warn.

“alright, alright. i’m sorry okay?” he says, voice softening, “i didn’t mean what i said, and i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you let out a bitter laugh, “doesn’t change the fact that you did, though.”

“i know, and that’s why i’m apologizing.” he mumbles while he sits beside you on the bed. “so would you please accept my apology? i don’t think i’m gonna survive if you make me sleep on the couch.”

you let out a small chuckle, uttering a soft “okay” as you lift the edge of the cover to signal him to get in. the two of you lay there in silence for a bit, backs facing one another, before jaehyun turns around.

“can we cuddle?” he asks you with a cheeky smile on his face. you peer at him from over your shoulder with an incredulous look.

“don’t push it,” you reply simply, causing him to huff and turn back around with a pout on his face.

NETWORKS. — @neoturtles @multifandomnet @nct-writers @prism-nw @kpopscape @k-dinernet

TAGLIST. — @hwiseungs @perhapsthanatos @fullsunfluff @ex0tic-vgh @bluejaem <send an ask or dm to be added!>

356 notes · View notes

pufflix · 3 years

Text

sweaty hugs

pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader

wc: 0,2k

genre: fluff, established relationship

tw: sweat, hugs and ice cubes?

networks: @ficscafe @k-dinernet @multifandomnet

masterlist

as much as you loved your boyfriend, letting him hug you with 30°C outside was a bit much. your sweaty bodies glued together on the couch was unbearable. you would think that shorts and tank tops were enough to face the hot weather. man, how wrong you were.

soobin had a smile plastered on his face while yours was burning up, small drops of sweat forming on your temple. him too, but he didn’t seem to care as he hugged you tighter.

“please,” you breathed, “let me go.”

“you’re comfortable, though.”

“i’m dying, soobs. is your comfort really worth watching your lover dehydrating into an old sponge?”

his lighthearted laugh brought more warmth to you, which was far from ideal. “sorry baby, i just love having you close.” he accentuated his words by nuzzling his cheek against your sweaty shoulder. how can he not be grossed out by all the sweat?

“me too, but this is too close. way too close.”

with a pout on his adorable face, soobin (finally) got up and left for the kitchen without a word.

now that you were free, you pulled your shirt multiple times to cool you down a bit.

soobin came back with a water bottle from the fridge and handed it to you.

“to avoid becoming a sponge,” he mumbled and you smiled.

“thanks sweetheart.”

“and this is an extra.”

before you could do or say anything, you felt a cold cube slowly going down your back. “CHOI SOOBIN WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

you grabbed it, about to throw it at him, but changed your mind and cooled down your collarbone, arms and neck with it.

“knew ice cubes would come in handy one day,” he proudly said, earning a lazy thumbs up from you.

#ficscafe #kdiner #multifandomnet #kpop #writing #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #txt #fluff #drabble #scenarios #imagines #blurb #non idol au #txt x reader #choi soobin x reader #gender neutral reader

126 notes · View notes

moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi @bluejaem @lyshoonn @vera-liscious @allegxdly @cupfullofjeno @thats-a-jen-no-no @yo-ddream

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried.

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

305 notes · View notes

kdyism · 2 years

Text

─── 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗗.

NCT 127 + WAYV

NCT DREAM.

SEVENTEEN.

ENHYPEN.

MISC.

─── 𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗞𝗦

@nct-writers @neoturtles @czennienet @ankathi-a @k-dinernet @caratwritersclub @kpopscape @neozonenet @ficscafe

#masterlists #nct #enhypen #seventeen #txt

79 notes · View notes

sdpinterlude444 · 3 years

Text

nct during court cases

mark- confused and unknowingly contributes to the chaos

jaemin- sips his americano and records everything on the phone

jeno- posts the video jaemin took to youtube, ends up getting viral, hence more money $$

chenle- starts a divorce, 0 compensation payment, leaves the girl to fend for herself

haechan- won't pay a penny, demands more compensation, after the ruling has been done he goes home and secretly cries

renjun- makes a big scene on court, fake cries a bit, ends up winning the case

jisung- doesn't bother showing up to court

jaehyun- is the lawyer

shotaro- the son of the guy who's being ebbed at

sungchan- the reporter who flees the scene upon witnessing violence

taeil- the guy who did nothing wrong, but somehow ends up as the witness

winwin- shows up when all the fun is over and the case is closed

kun- second in hand of the judge, makes all the rational decisions while secretly enjoying the chaos

hendery- accidentally bought the cats and dogs to the courthouse, spends the rest of the day searching for him

yangyang- tries to flirt with the opposing party, gets jailed for misbehaviour

ten- aesthetically poses in front of random places in the court

johnny- is ten's photographer

taeyong- the guy who started the case but can't be found anywhere now

lucas- the other witness who can't seem to remember anything somehow

jungwoo- searching for lucas but can't seem to find him anywhere

yuta- gets paid a million dollars in cash as compensation for keeping his mouth shut

xiaojun- crying due to the depth of the case

doyoung- kim

taglist: @aerocityy @nct-writers @k-flixnet @supermwritersnet @neoturtles @k-dinernet @ki6hyun [ send an ASK or a DM to get added ]

this is what happens when you have many things to do but choose to do none of them. i hope the dumblr algorithm is on my side this time ugh

243 notes · View notes

a-cupof-jo · 3 years

Text

Dyspnea

Parings: Potion Master!Jaehyun X Medicinal Herbalist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Intended Angst, Magic!au

WC: 4.1K

Warnings: magic inaccuracies, food mentioned, tiny bit suggestive

For @ficscafe fic scenario event!

Summary: The candle flickered as Jaehyun’s breath caught the flame. The life you two lived together was simple, but he wouldn’t change anything about it, “Happy birthday, Jaehyun. Make a wish.” The flame flickered out. He hadn’t known it then, but he should have used that wish more wisely.

Prompt: 38. When they test out a love potion on their partner.

It wasn’t fair that so many people get to enjoy this day while he is stuck behind the shuttered windows dark shadows. He doesn’t hate this day. How could he? It was Valentine's day- and his birthday but that never mattered. Not to the everyday people who slip through his door hours before this day begins. He can’t blame them. For they came in search of something only he can provide.

Love.

Or at least some figment of love. For some it was a way to prove their love. Others used it to try and get their long time crush to like them back. Jaehyun can’t help but laugh every time a young teenager pushes open the door to his shop for the nth time that week saying that they wanted to test this “love potion” on another person. Of course he doesn’t give them a full love potion. Just something diluted down closer to an addictive, like honey. It barely lasts 15 minutes.

He hears a bell chime from the other room. Whipping his hands on his apron he walks through the separating doorway. “I’m sorry,” he glances toward a cracked window that no longer had sunlight gleaming through it. “I am actually closed.”

“Oh,” a man just shorter than Jaehyun stood in the middle of the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He bit his lip lightly glancing around the room.

“Nonsense,” Jaehyun waved his hand. “You are already here. Might as well make good of the trip. Besides. I don’t mind.” He grinned at the man, trying to ease the tension that laced through the newcomers face.

The man sighed before stepping closer, “I still feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Jaehyun gave a light laugh. “Gives me something better to do than stir pots,” he watched the man warily as the sentence left his lips. “Magical beings” were still a wary subject for some people even if they had been able to practice in the open for nearly 50 years now. When the man just gave him a small smile Jaehyun stepped behind the counter that held his potions and elixirs. “What can I help you find today Mr…”

“Oh, Lee. But just call me Taeyong,” he waved his hand around peering through the glass at the display. “Well here’s my situation.” He glanced up at Jaehyun. “I have a date coming up and my date said there is this potion that allowed a person to change their hair color just by drinking it,” Taeyong looked amazed as he stared up at Jaehyun. “I wanted to try it out for our next date. That, and I’m not sure how much more bleaching my scalp can go through.” He combed his hand through his hair giving it a light tug at the bangs afterwards.

Jaehyun grimaced as he watched the straw like strands fall back into place, “Well you’re where you need to be. I have a lot of potions for that.” He moved down the row to where a shelf full of colorful bottles filled every inch. “There’s all of these, plus I can also create other colors if you don’t see one you like here.”

Taeyong peered back through the glass eyes wide with wonder. He glanced around the box a few times. "What about white?" He rested a hand over a bottle he assumed to hold the potion.

Jaehyun grinned, "One of my best sellers." Reaching for a little black jar Jaehyun scan the man. He would obviously look good with white hair. He probably looks good with any color of hair. "You just want to try the white?"

Taeyong hummed a second glancing toward the moonlit window, "Yes, just the white."

Jaehyun set the bottle is a small leather pouch, "2 shillings." The coins clinked as rested on the counter. "Enjoy! Have a good night." He watched the thin man walk through the door and past the window before latching the door shut. Taeyong had been pleasant and kind but Jaehyun couldn't help but be slightly peeved with the man. Unlatching the door he peeked his head out; he glanced to his left and, yes, there was still the sign with hours stating 'Dawn to Dusk' hanging off the building.

The moon was bright tonight and he couldn’t help but stare at it. How could it be that a ball of rock could bring him such peace. Maybe it was just the ambiance, but a little part of him wants to believe that there's a little man that lives on that moon and watches over the earth. It might seem ridiculous, but he could brew color changing elixirs and make people fall in love, so it couldn’t be that far fetched.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Jaehyun jumped lightly as arms wrapped around him from behind. He sighed as you placed your chin on his shoulder. “Sorry I wasn’t back earlier. I got stuck talking to Johnny at the market.” Your finger traced little patterns on his stomach as you both stood in the dimly lit doorway. “Come on, I’ll make dinner.” You pulled at his arm. Jaehyun closed his eyes taking a deep breath of clear night air before turning and giving you a soft smile. “I may have something for you. You know, considering it is valentines day.”

“Only because it’s valentines day,” He raised an eyebrow at you as you glided through the small store.

You were once an enigma to him. Someone he couldn’t reach, couldn’t touch. Your brother, adoptive brother, Johnny was Jaehyun’s best friend growing up. You were the aloof younger sister that Jaehyun hardly knew about until you made it to your apprenticeship. For as long as Jaehyun had known you, you’d have always been enamored by plants and flowers. So, when he found out you were studying herbal medicine, he wasn’t surprised.

“Of course, what other day would it be,” you gave him a small smile as you stood near the pot Jaehyun had previously been working at.

Jaehyun's relationship with you had been moments of fleeting looks, paths crossing, and unspoken rules. Two lives bending and swaying, following the same path, but never touching. Until you broke the pattern, you veered off course.

He had just finished his apprenticeship with the, now retired, potions master Kim. Mr. Kim had taken Jaehyun in from a young age, raising him when Jaehyun’s parents decided they didn’t want anything to do with someone containing magical properties. Johnny had planned a small party congratulating Jaehyun on his success. He didn’t know you were going to be there. Even if you were Johnny’s sibling you never showed anything but indifference to Jaehyun. Music had played from a small group of boys too loud for the space they were in.

You had sauntered over, a small flute of champagne dangling from your fingertips. "Can you do it?" Jaehyun had been surprised by your bluntness. "Take over for Kim. There's gonna be a lot of pressure," you noted, not unkindly.

"There will be, but Mr. Kim wouldn't let me take over if he didn't have at least some confidence in my abilities," he swiped the glass from your hand and swallowed down the contents. "Besides, he's still going to be around. He hasn't cut me loose yet."

You grabbed his hand in yours and tugged him towards the outskirts of dancing people, "A dance?" You didn't wait for a response as you twirled him closer to the center of the floor.

Jaehyun was not surprised at your fluid movements. Johnny had always bragged about how his sister was a natural dancer and the best in their city, perhaps the world. He smiled at you now sharing Johnny's sentiments. You gave him a small grin in return as the music died, "You're going to be great."

A whoop went up from one of the musicians, Donghyuck, Jaehyun's brain supplied. Your grin grew as you raised your voice in a louder whoop. Jaehyun watched as the sentimental atmosphere changed. You grabbed his hands leading him to a lively dance, "Beside, you can't fail, not when I'm just a few doors down."

"You mean cause Ms. Joy is a few doors down," Jaehyun teasing corrected.

You shake your head at him, "I'll be a few doors down."

You were, and a line that you didn't know existed between you both was crossed. Jaehyun wasn't sure who started the late night rendezvous or the unspoken pact of always standing by each other, but turned into late night talks which turned into early morning coffee, and later, shared lunches.

You guys fell into a rhythm, a three year rhythm that morphed into passing kisses, soft hugs, mornings of gentle coaxing and nights of soft loving.

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you glancing into the pot full of a clear liquid, thicker than water and smelled of sweet syrup, "Busy?"

You spun to face him shaking your head as you fixed the collar of his shirt, "Everyone was too busy being in love to be worried about visiting me.”

“Ah, the prettiest healer on the street doesn’t have love on this day,” Jaehyun furrowed his brow. “I knew this would happen. You would leave me because I have given love to everyone but you.”

You gave him a light giggle kissing the corner of his mouth, “I would never leave you.” You spin out of his arms walking further towards the house that sat behind the shop. “You are my soulmate,” you gave Jaehyun a look full of adoration and love.

Jaehyun was sure that his face read the same, “My perfect half.”

You motioned for him to follow you, “Come, I made something for you.”

“Made something for me,” Jaehyun stepped into the small living areas entryway. “What is the occasion?”

“It’s Valentine's Day,” you had shrugged, pulling a large dutch oven out of the convection oven. You turned and furrowed your brows at him, “and I think there’s something else going on today. Any idea what that is?”

Jaehyun shrugged, “None that I can think of.”

“Hmm,” you opened the lid letting more of the aroma fill the room. Your mouth popped open in mock surprise, “Oh, that’s right. It’s your birthday.” You placed vegetables on the table before scooping up some hot soup. You widen your eyes at him, humor dancing through them, “I can’t believe I forgot about it. Especially because I got you something special.”

“Something special?” Jaehyun placed cups on the small table as you set down the plates. “Where is it?”

You grinned and leaned in close to his ear, “That’s for me to know and you to find.” You laughed as Jaehyun let out a choked breath and scanned you up and down. “Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need all of your energy.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” Jaehyun gave an astonished laugh grinning as you sat across from him placing a small cupcake in front of him.

The candle flickered as Jaehyun’s breath caught the flame. The life you two lived together was simple but he wouldn’t change anything about it, “Happy birthday, Jaehyun. Make a wish.” The flame flickered out. He hadn’t known it then, but he should have used that wish more wisely.

Jaehyun hummed under his breath as the sun shone through his shop's open windows. Spring was just around the corner and Jaehyun’s happy mood couldn’t be dimmed. Warm bright weather brought in more customers. More customers meant that he was busier, and brought in more revenue, but mostly he was busier. That was one reason Jaehyun loved his job. He was working with his hands all day. There was never a moment where he was bored.

He watched as a little boy walked between the two aisles the shop held. It wasn’t much, but the little trinkets and common potions that lined the shelves made Jaehyun proud of how far he had come. He could still picture the small store from when he was around the young boy's age. Laughter sounded through the store as the boy tried to escape his mother's hands. "Have a good day!" Jaehyun watched the giggling pair walk out the front door. Turning to the backroom he sighed looking at the pot that sat there.

The weeks he had spent trying to develop a new love potion was wasted as he, once again, failed. Since before Valentines day, now nearly 2 weeks ago, he had been cooped up in that backroom, trying to find a better love concoction. You, while fully willing, were starting to become an annoyed test subject. Jaehyun couldn't help but get testy when you complained about the new love potion. If you were gonna tell him it wasn't good or right then maybe you could give some ideas on how to fix it. Maybe he just needs to find a new test subject. Jaehyun looked through the list of love potions and ingredients that he had already used. Too many, he scowled down at the pages and pages of notes he had made on each variety of potion he had made.

"Hello," he heard the little bell connected to the front door ring and someone walked around the shop, obviously looking for him.

Jaehyun sighed, rolled his shoulders back and tried to put on his best smile, "Hi, what can I help you with- Oh Taeyong. Hello." Jaehyun scanned the man in front of him. "The white looks good."

Taeyong reached up and ran a hand through his bright white hair, "Thanks. I love it and so did my date." He tapped his index fingers together as he walked back up to the counter full of the colored potions. "I wanted to try more."

Jaehyun smiled as the man scanned the rows, "We've plenty to choose from."

Taeyong narrowed his eyes, concentrating on different colors. He eyes flickered up and met Jaehyun's, "I can't decide. What do you think? What would look good?"

"He looks great in pink," a hand wrapped around his bicep. "He knows it too, but not many can pull it off well. You might be able to," Jaehyun grinned at you. While you were right about pink being a difficult color to pull off, you knew more than that, the pink dye was the hardest one to make. Which is why when Jaehyun glanced down at the box, he saw only 2 pink vials while the others had at least 10. "What about red? Maybe a green?"

Taeyong watched the two of you share another quick look. Clearing his throat slightly he looked down in the box again. "Red and green," he nodded his head. "Yes, I think I'll try those. One of each, please."

Jaehyun grabbed the two vials and placed them both in a leather patch that you held open, "Okay, 4 shillings." Taeyong placed the coins in Jaehyun's hand. "Have a good day!"

"You too," Taeyong gave a half hearted wave.

Jaehyun sighed as your arms wrapped fully around him, “What’s up?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his face, your eyes fluted around looking for an answer.

“I still can’t get this potion right,” he ran his hands up and down your arms. Jaehyun felt you press closer to you, your hands started running up and down his sides. “I want something different, something that shows who you are supposed to love, but how are you supposed to know that.”

“Soulmates.” Jaehyun startled as the voice rang through the shop. He turned to glare at the man who had made him jump, “Sorry.” Taeyong raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to intrude or overstay my welcome, but I can’t help but be fascinated by all of this. And also you can’t really-”

“It’s fine,” your arms dropped away from Jaehyun. You finger tapped your chin as you considered Taeyong words, “Soulmates… that may work, but, how could you put something like a soulmate indicator in a love potion.”

Jaehyun tapped his hands on the counter. Soulmates, while not nonexistent, hadn’t been thought about in decades. In fact, Jaehyun didn't know the first thing about finding soulmates or even if he believed in them. It’s not not very plausible, he can’t just give someone a potion and tell them that it will give them their soulmate. There's more to it than that. More to love and being in love then just having souls destined to be together, "I can't do that." He shakes his head at the two who had continued to excitedly discuss the topic. He watched as their faces morphed to disbelief and disappointment.

Your hands came up to rest on your hips, "And why not."

Jaehyun reached into the glass cabinet rearranging vials and avoiding eye contact, "There's no way I can reveal soulmates. Too many indicators and no defiant way to squeeze all of those into one potion. Soulmates and their indicators have been hidden for years and it's rare that people ever find or want to be with their soulmate. Besides, there are too many variables."

"Too many variables," you gave a light scoff.

"What if you didn't give them a way to instantly reveal their soulmate," Taeyong cut in. "What if, instead, you revealed soulmate indicators or made them stronger."

"What do you mean," Jaehyun sighed. He knew they weren't going to give this up. The hope and excitement in their eyes made Jaehyun more hesitant to even consider creating this potion.

Taeyong walked closer to the counter where Jaehyun and you stood. “Soulmates, they are predestined, we can’t control or decide who they are or how we get paired. Now, many of us don’t meet our soulmates, the bonds aren’t as strong and people can find people they truly love. What if you strengthen the bonds? Revealed them?” Taeyong lifted his hand wiggling his fingers. “Sometimes I think I feel a tug on my hand, especially when I am at home alone. I can’t help but wonder if, hope, it’s my soulmate.”

You watched him, an unfamiliar look in your eyes. Slowly you turned to Jaehyun and grabbed his right hand in both of yours, “Please Jaehyun, you can do this, we can do this. Help others find their soulmate, their perfect half.” Your eyes pleaded with him.

It really wasn’t fair. You knew that he would do anything for you, and you used that against him. Jaehyun sighed, “Okay, I’ll try. If you think this will work I’m willing to work on it.” Jaehyun couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face as you gave him a hug cheering along with Taeyong. He watched as you danced around the room bidding goodbye as you ran back to work. Taeyong also raced out of the shop, saying something about a ruby and some fish. As he watched the door swing shut the smile dropped his face. He couldn’t help the dread that filled his stomach and the distinct feeling that this would not end well.

Jaehyun stirred the sweet smelling syrup again. This was his fifth attempt at this potion. By this point he was frustrated. Nothing was working, all he kept making were diluted love potions, potions that made eyes change colors when they saw their loved ones, and a potion that made your heart glow from inside your chest. Both you and Jaehyun had been disturbed by the last potion. He had spent two weeks trying to figure this out. Both Taeyong and you had been helping when and where you could. You would get herbs and plants of magical origins, guiding and helping with the new ones that Jaehyun hadn’t seen before. Whereas, Taeyong would stir the potions or gather, obscure, ingredients- fairy dust, dwarf warts, pegasus hoof shavings. While impressive, Jaehyun was too scared to ask Taeyong how he got all real, authentic these ingredients or knew about all of these ingredients. As far as Jaehyun knew, Taeyong wasn’t a magic user. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if he descended from fairies or mermaids.

He sighed as the potion bubbled the mugwort he just dropped in hissed as it blended, “Make a potion, they said. It will help people, they said.” He pulled out another vial. He had it simply labeled “love”. A base potion that he used when creating all his love potions, but this wasn’t a love potion, not truly. People don’t fall in love because of it, they may not even be able to find love because of it. With that thought in mind he set the base potion down and pulled out a different potion. It’s more medicinal, healing than anything else. It was the first potion that you and Jaehyun had made together. A potion that could heal a bond. Chi bonds specifically. Maybe it would work. If he broke it down to its core parts and mixed it with the current love potion or maybe the one that made your heart glow just a few nights ago.

Jaehyun jumped from his seat racing around the room grabbing ingredients and writing down ratios and doses. The smell of linens and irises filled the room. Jaehyun could help but feel comfort from the two smells. It smelled like you. Like a warm day under the sun laying in the little meadow sitting on the outskirts of town.

“It smells so good here,” Jaehyun looked up as you entered the room. You closed your eyes inhaling a deep breath. “Like just after it rains and…” you took another deep breath, “and roses.”

Jaehyun tilted his head. That was interesting. The scent was different to everyone. Maybe it was a comforting scent or the scent of your beloved. It may have worked this time. Jaehyun stirred the pot a few more times before turning off the heat, “I just need to let it cool now.”

You walked closer to him peering down into the now pale yellow potion, “You think it worked this time?”

Jaehyun wrapped an arm around your waist. He shrugged, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder, “Maybe. I tried something different this time. It may do the trick.”

You hummed as he swayed you both back and forth, “That’s good. I’m really glad that you decided to make this. Soulmates were intended to be together, to have each other and we’ve moved so far from that.” You reached up and played with his hair twirling it between your fingers a few times, “I know that it doesn’t really matter, but I’d like to know, to confirm what I know, you’re my soulmate.”

Jaehyun was so in love with you. So ready to spend the rest of his days with you. He took another deep breath, linens and irises, “My better half.” He kissed under your ear before moving to grab a ladle from beside the pot, “Would you like to ladle or hold the bottles.” You grabbed the ladle from him motioning to move closer to the pot. “Would you like to know what I used this time? What the heart of this potion?” He watched you nod your head urging him to continue, “Our first potion.” Your head shot up surprise lighting up every feature. Jaehyun laughed, “I still remember you rushing in here and demanding I help you. You had never had to make a medicinal potion for a chi before. I hadn’t either, but that didn’t stop us from trying. Maybe we were lucky, or maybe it was fate because that day I feel deeply and madly in love with you. You unlocked my ability to love.”

You stood still. Face slack jawed but eyes full of love, “You’re such a dork.” Jaehyun couldn’t say anything before you were in his arms, lips on his, and arms wrapped around his shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jaehyun grinned at you, pulling further away from you. He looked over at the now empty pot. “Now, rock, paper, scissors for who has to drink the potion.” He held his hand up in a fist.

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes at him. “Rock, paper, scissors.” You sighed as he held up scissors motioning to cut through your paper. “Fine,” you picked up the small vial tilting it in a small cheers before drinking the liquid inside.

Jaehyun waited, the air tense around the two of you. A bell rang, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. A small red string pulled at your previously bare pinkie, “Hey guys! What’s going on. It smells so good here, like fresh linen and Irises. Are you guys back he- oh.” The string led past Jaehyun and tugged tight where Taeyong stood, his hand lifted in surprise.

Tag List: @qianinterprises @stayctday @infnteen

#ficscafe scenario event #ficscafe #k-dinernet #knet-bakery #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #soulmate au #magic au

79 notes · View notes

neonun-au · 3 years

Text

conflict of interest | johnny suh

pairing: ceo!johnny x fem!reader genre: fluff warnings: strong language, sexual themes word count: 2k song: so emotional by whitney houston

for @fruityutas ♡ this one got away from me and the song a little bit, but i hope you enjoy it~

“So you’re fucking your boss now?”

“I am not fucking my boss,” you deadpan, staring down into your drink and avoiding your friend’s smug gaze as she sits across from you in the dingy pub.

“But you want to fuck your boss, right?”

“Sooyoung,” you warn, levelling her with a weak glare as she laughs at you over her pint of beer. “I do not want to fuck my boss.”

“Why not? He’s hot,” she says with a laugh, “I want to fuck your boss.”

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up right now--”

“What? You’re gonna leave? Doubtful,” she throws her head back and takes another swig of the cold, amber liquid in her glass, “you know I’m telling the truth, you just don’t want to get in trouble with human resources.”

“He’s the CEO of the company, I’m not going to risk my entire future career on some dumb affair.”

“But wouldn’t it be so much fun,” the teasing in her voice rattles your nerves and you take another sip of y our cocktail to calm them. You can feel the rush of blood to the head, pounding in your temples--embarrassment clear on your face. The pleading look you shoot her just causes another peal of laughter to escape her red lips, “lighten up, _____. Let loose once in a while.”

“Whatever…” you mumble into your glass, glaring at your friend as she continues to laugh.

The night passes in empty glasses and stories traded across the sticky pub table. Sooyoung’s features take on a distinctive red flush as the hours pass and you can feel the heady feeling of the liquor as it meanders through your bloodstream--clouding your senses and thickening your tongue in intoxication.

“You know what, you’re right,” you, waving a finger dramatically in your friend’s direction as she finishes off her fifth pint of beer. “I do want to fuck my boss.”

“Hah!” She leans back in her chair, smug with the confession, “I knew it.”

“But I don’t just want to sleep with him,” you sigh, leaning your head on your palm, “I want him to bend me over his desk at work, I want to take him home with me and cook him dinner and fuck him so hard he proposes immediately. I want it all.”

“Oh,” by the expression of surprise on her face, Sooyoung was evidently not expecting this, “so it’s like, deep deep. You’ve got a crush.”

“Dude, I want to have his fucking babies. It’s that bad.”

“Whose babies?” A deep voice asks from beside you. You raise your bleary gaze to see the general outline of a man. Tall, dark hair, wide grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath before straightening your posture and clumsily extending out a hand in greeting. “Hello Mr. Suh, nice, uh...evening?”

“Just Johnny,” he takes your hand in his--warm skin brushing against your clammy palms. “Whose babies do you want to have?”

You turn to your friend for help, eyes desperate and pleading, but are met with nothing more than feigned innocence and shrug.

“Umm,” you blink to try and clear the clouds from your eyes, gaze unfocused as his face swims before yours in an alcohol induced haze. The desire to confess, to throw yourself in his arms, overwhelms. You can feel it rippling under your skin, twitching in the tips of your fingers. Johnny eyes you curiously as he waits for your response, “no one. No one’s babies.” You shove aside the desire with a dry gulp.

“Ah, that’s too bad,” he replies with a wry smile, amusement at your current state clear on his face.

“But, umm, it was nice to see you, Mr. Suh--”

“Johnny.”

“Johnny, okay, but we...we have to go and,” you glance at your unusually silent friend in desperation, “we have to go wash our...feet.” Sooyoung lets out a short laugh as you grab her by the arm and start moving towards the exit, “c’mon lessgo. See you Monday, Mr uh...Johnny.”

You drag Sooyoung by the arm behind you as you stumble out of the bar, eyes averted from the other patrons to avoid further embarrassment. Johnny watches you leave--eyes lingering on your frame as you disappear through the front door and into the city night--knowing smile stretching across his face.

“At 10:00am you have a conference call with the investors for the upcoming Green Village project, the topic of today’s meeting is meant to strictly be about finances but I think Mr. Jung is quite interested in talking about the full concept of the project and the sustainability side of it so it might be good to have a glance over that section of the project file, I can prepare some notes for you--”

“_______,” Johnny calls out to you from behind his desk as you stand at the door to his office, rattling off his schedule for the day and blatantly avoiding all possible eye contact. Memories of your run in with him on Saturday night still fresh in your mind.

You ignore him, tightening your grip on the print-out and continuing your monotonous speech, “and then at 12:45 you’re supposed to have a lunch meeting with Mr. Lee, he wants to talk about a potential recommendation for promotion--”

“______.” Johnny cuts you off again, pushing himself out of his desk chair. Within a few, long strides he closes the distance between you and slips the paper from out of your hands--tossing it into the wastebasket. “I can just read the email, this isn’t why I called you in here.”

“It’s not? Is there, uh,” you hesitate but lift your gaze to meet him. Johnny stares down at you--intensity lurking in the depths of his dark brown eyes. Immediately you drop your eyes back to the floor, swallowing the lump of nerves in your throat, “was there something you needed, Mr. Suh?”

He exhales on a laugh, “yeah, firstly I need you to start just calling me Johnny. Enough of this ‘Mr. Suh’ stuff.”

“O-okay…”

“Secondly,” he pauses for a moment, face twisted in a mixture of bemused confusion, and takes your shaking hand in his own steady grasp, “why are you so nervous?” He runs his thumb in circles over your skin, soothing out the nervous tension.

Heart pounding, you open your mouth to speak, “Johnny…” he takes a step closer to you, the heat of his body mingling with your own in the thick air between you. He lifts your face towards him with his free hand, gently encouraging you to meet his eyes.

“I’m very attracted to you,” the shock of the plain, straightforward statement courses through your body. “And I know you feel the same. I heard you.”

“Johnny,” the reality of the situation hits you--your body on fire with adrenaline. Panicked, you take a step back from him, dropping your hand from his grasp and smoothing your palms down the front of your trousers. Johnny takes a step back as well, acknowledging the shift in your demeanour. The warmth in the office dissipates as you stand staring at the floor, gathering your swirling thoughts. “We can’t do this….”

“Why not?” The sincerity in his voice is evident. It’s a genuine question born of real emotion and it furthers your desire to abandon all sense and fling yourself into his arms. Again, you allow logic to override this urge. Reason beats down the romantic notions swelling in your heart.

“I just...you’re my boss. I work for you. Isn’t it a--” you inhale deeply, steadying your voice and searching for the right words. They don’t come so you simply wave your hand in a vague gesture, hoping the meaning conveys.

“Go on a date with me,” he asks suddenly, reaching for your hand but giving up on the gesture--instead allowing his hands to drop back to his sides. His eyes are soft, gentle but there is a heat of determination burning in their depths.

“Johnny, I can’t,” with a sigh you turn to leave, hand outstretched for the door handle. Johnny’s voice stops you before you can open it.

“If you change your mind, you have my number.”

“Wait, so he was practically on top of you and you still didn’t kiss him?” Sooyoung looks at you, agape, as you finish recapping the day's events for her--head heavy in your hands. “I don’t understand you, ______.”

“I want to keep my job,” the excuse comes out weak--sounding almost as pathetic as you feel as your groan over your cold pint of beer.

“He’s the goddamn CEO, I’m sure he can figure something out you lunatic.”

“Ugh, just let me wallow in misery, please?” You mumble into your glass and grimace at the bitter taste as Sooyoung beckons the waitress over to order a bottle of soju.

Several drinks later, you’re sprawled across the floor of your apartment complaining about the hangover you’re certain to have in the morning as Sooyoung fishes around in your fridge for something to eat. After a few minutes of rustling around she wanders back to your couch with a handful of grapes. “You don’t have any snacks.”

“I can’t think about buying food, I’m in a crisis.”

She nudges you with her toes, popping a few grapes in her mouth, “it’s not a crisis. You could literally just call your boss and suck his di--”

“Sooyoung! Not helping,” you whine, rolling over onto your stomach and glaring up at your friend through the cloud of intoxication in your eyes.

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to suck his dick, but you could just like...go on a date.” She shrugs, popping another grape into her mouth with a loud smack. “He offered.”

“But what about my job…” you pout.

“Oh my god, _____, don’t worry about it. You’re young, you’ve got plenty of time for a career. Follow your heart, follow your pussy. Do something.” She rolls her eyes and leans over to smack you lightly across the head, “either call him or stop whining, I’m tired of listening to it.”

“Fine!” You push yourself off the ground and rustle through your bag for your phone, “I’m gonna call him and tell him I want to fuck his brains out.”

“You are not,” she laughs, stretching back across your couch.

“I am too!”

“You’re too much of a coward, I guarantee the most you’re going to do is let it ring once and then hang up.”

“Is that a challenge?” A sudden surge of confidence rushes through your veins, bolstering you alongside the liquid courage in your veins. You scroll through your contact list, searching for Johnny’s name and raising the phone to your ear before the temporary determination leaves you completely.

“Hello?” His voice sounds over the other end--thick with sleep and confusion.

“Johnny--” you start, but he cuts you off right away.

“_____, it’s 1:00am, are you okay?”

“Good, yeah good. I’m good. How are you?”

“...are you drunk?”

“Noooooooo,” you drawl, unconvincing, and Johnny laughs on the other side of the line--voice low, stirring something nameless in your guts. “Johnny I wanna go on a date with you.”

“You wanna suck his dick!” Sooyoung yells from the couch, you try to silence her with a quick glare but she just laughs it off.

“Did you hear that?” You ask, voice shaking with nerves.

“No.” Judging by the pause preceding his response, he absolutely did. “_____, I would love to go on a date with you, but you’re clearly drunk so I’m going to reconfirm in the morning.” He laughs, “of course, that is assuming you don’t call in sick due to a massive headache.”

“No,” you groan, “I’ll be there.”

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep, _____.”

“Okay, Mr. Suh,” you sigh, dropping down to sit next to Sooyoung on the couch. Relief washing through your body in the aftermath of the nerves that had previously laid tense in your bones.

“Johnny,” he laughs, “good night.”

“Good night.” With a smile, you end the call and lean back against the couch.

“You didn’t tell him you wanted to fuck his brains out so I still win the bet,” Sooyoung pokes you in the side and you smack her across the head with a cushion.

“Ow, okay, fuck! I’m leaving,” she laughs, gathering her jacket and leaving you behind to bask in the bliss of your romantic fantasies.

#nct-writers #kconnet #nctcreations #k-dinernet #unfortunatus: purgatorio #johnny #nct johnny #johnny suh #johnny seo #nct 127 #fluff #nct fluff #johnny fluff #suggestive #my writing

213 notes · View notes