──drabble. gif fic. drama. ; tags. flirty!mark. ; w.c. 301 ╱ check out my library .ᐟ
fratboy!mark spots you before you even get the chance to pretend you don’t see him.
you barely make it to the kitchen when he’s there, leaning against the counter like he’s been waiting for you, solo cup in hand, that signature smirk already in place. he tips his head slightly, eyes dragging over you with blatant interest before locking onto yours.
“didn’t take you for the party type, pretty girl.”
you huff, grabbing a drink without sparing him a real look. “i’m not.”
mark just grins, shifting so he’s a little closer, just enough to make you aware of him. “then why are you here? could’ve just texted me if you wanted to see me that bad.”
you shoot him a look. “you wish.”
he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “see, you keep saying stuff like that, but here we are, talking. again.” he takes a sip from his drink, smirking over the rim. “starting to think you might actually like me.”
you scoff, crossing your arms. “you think every girl likes you.”
“not every girl,” he corrects smoothly, eyes flicking to your lips for half a second before meeting your gaze again. “just the ones that i know do.”
you inhale sharply, forcing yourself not to react. “you’re insufferable.”
“and yet, you’re still here.” he shifts even closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch. “how about this—let me take you out. just one date. if you don’t have a good time, i’ll stop bothering you.”
you narrow your eyes. “…and if i somehow do?”
his smirk deepens, teasing and entirely too smug. “then you admit you like me.”
you roll your eyes, turning away, but not before he chuckles, tapping his cup against yours. “think about it, pretty girl. i’ll be waiting.”
Pairing: Jeno x Reader [ ft. Jaemin, Haechan, Chenle, Renjun ]
Prologue: Jeno is just another friend, is all that you have been thinking, denying your feelings. It’s better to shut the emotions of the heart than to lose him. What happens when he learns a secret?
Genre: Friends with Benefits AU + Suggestive + Fluff + Angst
Wordcount: 2,547
Warnings: Suggestive Content [ rough + angry sex + nudity + biting + making out + moaning ] Language
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And perhaps falling off a bridge would hurt lesser than falling for a friend. Your head and your heart would ultimately be confused and conflicted by an enigmatic companion.
-
The morning was unconcerned with the impending alarms, the warm yellow rays of the sun rising above the horizon were concealed by the heavy black curtains. An aura of sloth, sultriness, and wilderness floated in the room like the aroma of a freshly baked cake. The only source of light was the mood lamp that had been projecting the same seductive crimson and tuscany hues since the previous night.
Jeno hovered over you, placing kisses as he worked his hips just right. You gripped his face with your hands, soaking up every pleasure he gave you.
It felt as though the world was dying since the two of you had been going about this business for so long and the only thing on your minds was getting each other to scream and react physically. You were familiar with every inch of his body like a road map that you had memorised, and you were also aware of the vital spots where even a light touch from your flesh would send him into a fit. Jeno was skilled in the same domain.
"How the fuck did you manage to cover me in so many hickeys?" Jeno voiced as he rolled over his side, engulfing you in his arms as he nuzzled his face into yours.
"I don't even like biting but there's something about you, I can't control myself." You replied, letting out soft moans as he brushed his fingers against your naked body.
"Why is it so soft?" He gushed, bringing himself nigher. He started to place kisses all over your bare arm.
"You really like my moisturizer, huh?" You made a joke, which caused the boy to giggle softly yet deeply.
The alarm went off, signalling it was too late and better for you to be out of bed. Yet, it was difficult to come out of the dreaminess of addictive acts with Jeno.
"You ought to go." He twisted his legs around yours and tightened the grasp after hearing what you said, which made him pout.
"Can we not just stay like this? I love it so much." Jeno tried his best to earn a yes from you but even after domestic dynamics between the two of you, what you had with him was still not bound by any official terms of a relationship.
"Lee Jeno, think of skipping one more class and you're dead meat." You declared, pushing him away by the chest. He finally got up, his back offered you a spectacular view as he put on his hoodie. He was hot.
-
The classes began as usual. The vibe of the weekend could be felt and seen on everyone's faces as they walked towards their lecture halls. College was about to end soon, unlike the day that would turn out to be a long one.
Jeno came sprinting from behind, tapping you on the shoulder. "Lend me the notes from the past week. What did we do?"
You handed him a folder as you both kept walking. "Only if they taught football." He thanked you.
"Even if they did you'd barely come to class." You commented as you took his hand in his. He wore a plain blue shirt over a white tee and that was enough for the rest of the onlookers to feel jealous of you.
-
Business Majors was as dull as it sounded.
Where had the last three years gone? It would sound cliche to anyone but it in fact did feel like yesterday that you bumped into this athletic guy, the exchange of glances and phone numbers gradually led to things heating up between you. Matters started to range from baseball games to bedrooms.
-
But who was Jeno? A lover? A friend? An acquaintance? That's the complicated part. Friends with benefits.
What everybody else thought was contrasting. For them, you two were the hottest couple on the campus. After all, you did everything a couple would do and the best thing to do when unfounded rumours keep coming up like a creeper is to ignore them and take pleasure in the drama.
-
"Had you been three minutes late I could've won a new pair of headphones?" A young boy who had donned a red jacket with fluffy brown hair, seated right in front of your row cried.
"Don't you already have more than enough?" You questioned seating yourself and placing your supplies on the desk.
"Renjun, explain." He elbowed the other one beside him.
"He made a bet. Lost again, of course." Another boy in yellow explained. He didn't seem to be in the mood to skip the lecture and squander it engaging in the gossip and petty bickering that you and your friend loved.
"Haechan! Grow up!" You jokingly hit his head.
"Over there!" With a harshness in his voice, the professor snapped his fingers.
"Lee Jeno! Explain this." He called him out as he pointed toward a phrase on the screen.
Jeno, who was seated to your right, glanced at you momentarily in an attempt to pick up a cue, but the timing didn't seem appropriate.
"This.." He began.
"I kind of don't know." He earned a roar of laughter from the rest of the class, every single one of them but you.
"Out!" The professor shouted, his brows wrinkled.
You turned to face Jeno once more, this time with worry reflected in your eyes, but he did the exact opposite of what you expected. He gave you a wink and grinned as he slung his empty backpack over his shoulder and exited the hallway regretlessly.
This made you think about the Jeno you met three years ago, he wasn't at the top of the class, but he did secure one of the highest grades, never missed a class, and turned in assignments on time but that only lasted for a semester or two. It was like slow poison, it would start to spread slowly and gradually, taking its time in the best way possible until one day would come and everything would cease. Serene yet explosive.
This was what had you concerned.
There were other occasions when people criticised you, saying that you were ultimately responsible for doing this to a sincere young man like him, that you were taking advantage of him, and that it was not for the talks, but the fact that they did, in fact, ring true to you was onerous.
Given your social and financial status, you didn't think much of college and didn't care if you passed or not. If you fished a decent job placement or not. If your professors liked you or not and this was what had been going on ever since you could recall memories, things that appeared to be a hard-earned necessity to others were insignificant to you. There were a dozen more methods, good or evil, to do things, and if you didn't succeed, your family would step in and fix them for you. This was how life went by; the only reason you went to this esteemed university was to have it documented on a piece of writing that you put some work into. Worse things may be anticipated in a society where paper was valued more highly than the human conscience. Money was paper, after all, it sure was different from the other kind of knowledge-stuffed papers the others applied with, but well, it was paper and your family did not mind spending racks to fit you into an image that was not yours.
-
"Y/N? The class got over ten minutes ago." Haechan attracted your attention by abruptly waving his hand in front of your eyes.
"Oh, yeah." You murmured.
"This is why they say people go crazy in love." He commented.
"Shut the fuck up!" You were annoyed. Picking up your bag, you left the class, still in deep thought.
Life did not make any sense at that point and your heart was not helping either, you were a walking puzzle.
-
Love was not what you two shared.
Together, you did spend days and nights. Every time someone else looked at him, you grew envious, and Jeno too. You'll never forget how he pouted whenever you spent time with someone who wasn't him. There was a natural sense of belonging that you two had developed for one another, but perhaps that's what friends did. Every time Haechan brought in new acquaintances, you did experience jealousy; it wasn't as strong or as intense, but it was enough to persuade your heart. Only if hearts came equipped with remote controls would the world be a simpler place to live.
The one time you could not control your heart was when you told Jeno you loved him, drunk.
"I love you too, Y/N~" He replied back, not even in a sense of distinguishing colours or shapes, let alone feelings.
Because you were certain Jeno had no memory of it, and because you knew it would be terrifying to dig out the dead, you gave up trying to think about that time. Losing a friend as valuable as he was was not on your list because the only ghosting that could occur was from his end to yours.
This took you back to another night in your bed. You and Jeno were cuddled up, wrapped in blankets as he laid his head on your tummy, trying to watch Netflix but the only thing you could ever do was smile at each other's face, for no reason whatsoever.
"What?" You giggled, interlocking his hair in your fingers, trying to focus on the screen projected in the front.
"Can't I just stare at my-" He cut the sentence halfway, turning his face away to the movie. A scene of love confession was going on, the two main leads were oblivious, still in a denial, and you could swear that watching porn instead of that would have been way easier for you.
At least five times, if not more, Jeno looked up at you in the hope that you would say something, but you chose to ignore him like life troubles, as if they went away with your ignorance. And wasn't romance trouble too? You thought to yourself. No matter how bad you wanted Jeno, the more you thought of confessing, the more you denied your feelings.
No, it would still not count as love.
-
"Be careful where you go!" Someone's screams jolted you back to reality.
"I'm sorry." You walked away.
"Y/N!" You turned your head toward the source, Jeno. He was already outside, waiting for you.
"Here!" He shouted.
You began to move in the direction of the blanket, pillows, and woven basket of food that he had already spread out on the floor.
He patted on a spot, asking you to take a seat.
"Jeno, this is a study date." You asserted while raising one of the soft pastel green pillows loaded with fur.
"Because of the way the brain functions, we need to get some rest before engaging in any kind of mental training." He laughed.
"How do you plan to sleep here, it's 11 am?" You pushed him away, laying beside him.
"Hmm because you kept me from getting any sleep last night." Right near to your ear, he whispered.
"I could say the same." You exhaled.
"Yo! Lovebirds, and then you guys say you are not in love." You cocked your head to the side only to see Chenle.
"Come, sit." You said getting up.
"I'm in a rush, Jeno I needed you to help me." He declared.
"With?" You questioned.
"You already forgot? Do you need a second invitation?" Chenle teased you while you were still confused.
"I told you I'm throwing a party tonight, nothing too fancy."
"Will there be booze?" Haechan jumped into the scene, startling you.
"Everything, Jeno!" He pulled him by the arm until he succeeded in taking him away.
"Hmmm." Haechan hummed.
"What now?" You questioned.
"I don't know what kind of kinks you have but sleeping under the open sky here at the campus is definitely a bad idea." The only thing holding him up was his elbow, he said as he laid down.
"You don't get to speak crude things just because you're single." You flicked at his forehead.
"You are also single." He was obviously on something today since everything he said struck you right in the heart; if it weren't for the luxury of being your closest friend, he may have gotten into trouble.
"Whatever." You shrugged him off.
-
You were in your room later that evening, contemplating what to wear to the party. Other significant life decisions were open questions for someone who struggled to make decisions about their clothing.
You saw a text from your mother when the phone's alerts appeared, but you chose to ignore it. Knowing what it would be, the wisest course of action was to ignore it once again.
Haechan also phoned, but because you were adamant that nothing would spoil this evening and Jeno was on the way, the two of you chose to go together.
KNOCK KNOCK!
The door signalled a visitor, your favourite one.
"Jaemin Na—who the hell is he?" Before you could even see Jeno's face, he hissed. You were taken aback. How did he know about him? You never told him, did you?
"What- who told yo- Jeno what?" You sounded muddled.
"Come inside, let's sit down and speak about it." You suggested it after noticing the others in the hallway, and he stepped in.
"Who is he?" Jeno was tearing up, gripping you by your arms. Meanwhile, you thought of a thousand different excuses. There was no way you wanted Jeno to know who Jaemin was.
He was sobbing when you glanced up, but he was in a subtle rage. Why?
Not as if he was yours. The two of you had nothing official, only lingering feelings and this would be the complete opposite of whatever was, and would happen between you and Jaemin.
You kissed Jeno impulsively, not knowing what else to do.
And he kissed you back, roughly.
Two bodies breathing heavily, crying, yet never breaking the tongue contact. You were so mad at him, and surely he felt the same.
You pushed Jeno onto the bed, his eyes never meeting yours as you straddled him, sitting on his lap, forcing him to lay on his back.
"This is all because of you." He grunted.
"Oh, so now you are going to say this too?" You bit his neck, earning a groan from him. His hands rushed up and down your waist all the way back.
You ripped apart his black shirt, and moments later his pants met with the same fate.
You kissed and bit every part of his body like some bloodthirsty vampire, with zero control over yourself. The bed was a weird mix of fluids, including the sweat from the heat and the tears from the pain. Maybe they were right when they said sex was a great escape mechanism.
"Fuck you!" Jeno cursed, you had not seen him like this anytime before.
"You literally will."
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Your hands mold into mine so effortlessly, your heat moving into my cold. Every bit of you seemed to welcome every inch of me and to be honest, I’m not complaining. I want to hide under a thick blanket with you, nose touching, breathing in each other's mouth and legs tangled comfortably.
This was the very first time I’ve ever cuddled with a boy. It felt so right; kind of like putting your playlist on shuffle and your favourite song comes on.
Mark’s heart was racing, to the point where I could hear and feel it vibrating against me. Was he nervous? I didn’t have the courage to ask. His arm wraps around me tighter, pulling me close enough to leave me breathless for a few seconds.
Then I feel his soft lips on my forehead...kissing the bad nightmares away.
I calmed myself before I snuggled closer into his chest.
His hands slowly moved down from my arm to my waist, encircling the exposed skin from my raised white shirt. I shut my eyes tighter, memorising the feeling of comfort in a human's hand.
He didn’t know I could feel everything he’s doing, I’m fast asleep in his head, in a state where he could be vulnerable and give me affection without being scared.
Mark is never affectionate when I’m awake, instead he settles for soft hugs and sometimes a single peck on the lip when he feels like it. He didn’t want to show a lot ‘cause he was scared that if he started, he won’t be able to stop.
He was scared of loving, of giving and not getting anything back, to be taken advantage of.
So while he learns and gets used to the way our fingers interlock effortlessly and the way I hug him a second longer every single day, I’ll wait in my sleep, secretly pushing his nightmares away.
Get to know the infamous Lee brother's through the publics eye and then through their own perspective.
Lee Jeno: Warnings and Signs
The second youngest among all the Lee brother's who were all infamous for being heartbreakers, cold and ruthless.
Taeyong the oldest left the school with everyone's heart in his hands but no one could keep his and Jeno seemed to be the perfect replica of his eldest brother. The only question you bothered asking was- would you be the one to keep his heart?
Words: 529
Lee Taeyong: Ignoring Him
Looking at what your younger sibling went through with Lee Jeno you started reminiscing of your times with Lee Taeyong. His personality was true to his favourite flower- he was a beautiful soul with thorns.
Words: 898
Lee Mark: I'll wait for you to like me
He was cold and not approachable. He was the mysterious and quieter one among all his brothers and that made him all the more desirable. He turned a blind eye to everyone yet, he saw you. You were his forbidden fruit, his brothers ex. But all he could do was fall for you as your heart grew more and more cautious of anyone with the last name Lee.
Words: 1.6k
Lee Ten: Desperate Much?
Ten was a heartbreaker too but not for the reasons his family was popularly known for. It was because someone already had his heart.
You had his heart even before he was recognised as one of the Lee Brother's.
Words: 2k
Lee Donghyuck: At War or in Love?
He was well known and popular, he got along with everyone and always believed himself to be the type of people that loved freely. So why was it so difficult this time?
Words: 2.5k
Series Finale
They were just a bunch of boys who grew up together through tough circumstances. They were just people. They were just people with a special bond. They were family.
hiii! can I request a scenario where dreamies found out that their s/o are related to their sunbae/famous idols,,,,please hehe thankies ^_^
Hey, my love! Thank you so so much for requesting and I'm extremely sorry for not writing it earlier, I've been putting it off for a while because i didn't get any ideas so i finally decided to write it today! I hope it's good enough!
You and your boyfriend decided to have a complete house cleaning day prior to your conversation. It was a sunday, after all so you'd rather want to be productive than slack off. Obviously tired from the non stop clean up you've done from morning, you spent your afternoon in a rather calm manner, shockingly.
Talking about all you've done since childhood to now to how college has been to how you got to where you are and of course, family anecdotes.
"So yeah, he/she'd always steal my Resees cups when i go over during the holidays":
Mark-
-Hundred percent to be the one that goes, "You're Donghae's cousin? Like for real?" "Dude are you pulling a prank on me right now?"
-Would be shocked, obviously, "Why am i getting to know this now??"
-And then does a side by side comparison of you and Donghae to find out similarities.
-Also goes as far as to search up all details on Donghae's personality (and life history in general) and mentally curses himself at how much you both have in common.
- "You sure he's okay with us dating? I don't want to be kicked out of the company just yet"
Renjun-
-"Taemin? No you're not. Nope, definitely not."
- Would honestly be the type to deny it for a long time.
-Maybe would even take his time out to make a powerpoint presentation on why you're not Taemin's sister.
-"Okay if you're really related, dance."
- When he finally accepts the fact, he'd definitely be shocked.
- "Having sibling privileges, you must know if he's single, right- no! Just for research purposes in case our relation goes wrong-"
Jeno-
-Let's be real, he'd have probably seen it coming, being the only logical one it the group (oops)
-"Ahh, Wendy? You guys did look ridiculously similar. "
-"is this why she constantly gives me death glares? Does she not like me dating you?"
-When you'd informed that she's giving looks as a warning to not hurt you, he'd full on go
-"Oh no nope, not hurting anyone, I'd love to but I'd definitely not want beef with my senior that's colleagues code 101"
Haechan-
-Would be all quirky and try acting as though he'd known it from the starting.
"Of course i knew that, Amber personally came and told me that, hm..around the time we started dating?" unconfirmed fact.
-Will not accept the fact that he's flustered even though his face gives it away.
-"Like, if you'd ask me to choose, I'd definitely choose her over you. No tea no shade, babe"
Jaemin-
-Extremely shocked
-Would hundred percent gasp out loud.
-Once he's calmed down.. by a bit he'd squeeze your cheeks together and inspect your entire face.
-"Jaehyun?? Aww speaks a lot about why you look a lot like his daughter!"
-Would ask you for childhood pictures and more stories so that he'd get to know you and your brother in a deeper perspective.
-"You should call him over for dinner tomorrow! I'll cook!"
Chenle-
-"No you're not."
- Would have a similar reaction to that of Renjun's, human embodiment of the phase 'living in denial'
- Heck, he won't even believe it even if you showed him your childhood photos of you and your sister.
-"Joy???"
-"You're telling me, you could've hooked me up with her and you decided to keep me for yourself? Why am i not shocked"
-You'd end up in a fist fight with him that day.
Jisung-
-"Wait Leeteuk hyung? The one from our company? Like, the super junior member?"
- Would be more shocked than anyone in the above list.
-"This should be illegal. He's adopted me and you're his sister!"
-Hyperventilates for no reason. Would blabber gibberish until he finally calms his nerves and sits back down in front of you.
Working part-time at your aunt’s café was supposed to be a relatively easy task. You get to strike up conversations with regulars and your clothes always smell like dark roast. However, as large coffee chains begin popping up around your neighborhood, your job and your workplace are suddenly threatened. As you scramble to find a way to keep your family’s business afloat, meeting the God of Coffee might just be what you need.
→ pairing: coffeegod!mark x barista!reader
→ genre: fluff mixed with angst
→ word count: 4k
→ warnings: n/a
“How does Love You a Latte have such good drinks? Simple, they make regular sacrifices to the Coffee God.”
→ a/n: this is my submission for @got7writerscollective‘s virgo project! please enjoy my short work and be sure to check out the other talented submissions
Having the desire to burn down a Starbucks had never been on your to-do list, but recently life was full of surprises.
You continue wiping down the same table that you’ve cleaned for the third time today. The giant green competitor occupying your thoughts looms just outside the windows. Slumping into the nearest seat, you fold the dish towel in your hands into neat little squares. Recently, every time your aunt came into the store to check in on you and the other baristas, her face dropped at the empty room. The sadness in her eyes almost breaks your heart, and you don’t think you can stand it any longer. Wracking your brain for a solution, you watch as rows upon rows of laughing customers walk through the doors of the new coffee shop across the street.
How could you possibly beat a brand that had notoriety, cheaper prices, and all the funds in the world at its disposal? As much as you adored the little slice of heaven your aunt built for herself, this shop is a small business that barely makes ends meet when faced with such a famous competitor. You could not afford to lower prices while maintaining quality, nor continually develop new drinks to use individuality as a lure.
At least the one positive, if you could even consider it that, was how quick and easy closing time became. There were less pitchers to clean, less trash to empty, and less in the registers to account for at the end of the day. As you let your hair out of the high ponytail you typically make for work, you take your singular trash bag out to the dumpster in the alleyway.
When you dispose the garbage for the day, you make an immediate beeline for the sink to wash your hands. However, there is a tall man your do not recognize observing the ceramic mugs kept behind the counter, and suddenly your shift becomes a little more eventful than usual.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, as if you were a friend he was waiting on.
You point at yourself incredulously before realizing that this stranger could be very dangerous or very delusional. It wasn’t everyday someone hopped behind the counter without permission and started admiring your workplace appliances. God, was this man trying to rob you?
“There’s no point stealing from us. We don’t have much anyways,” you mumble, raising your hands up slowly in surrender.
This seems to amuse him, because he chuckles darkly before replacing the pastel pink mug in his hands back to its designated spot on the shelf. Hands tucked in his dark jeans, he almost glides over to you and you instantly feel the hair at the back of your neck rise in fear. His head tilts as he observes you, his dark eyes identical to freshly brewed coffee and his skin glowing like the gentle honey brown of the lattes you like to make.
“Are you afraid of me?” he muses, giving you a teasing smile that immediately sparks the fight-or-flight response in your brain.
“There’s a stranger in my store fiddling behind the counter. You tell me,” as soon as the annoyed words leave your mouth, you realize that it would probably be best not to provoke the man.
As you brace yourself for his response to your snide little comment, you don’t expect the laugh that comes out of him. He reaches out to fix your apron strap, the small act immediately causing your skin to flush, before offering you a more reassuring smile.
“I’m not here to rob you.”
Fiddling with the edge of your apron, you try to relax your nerves—a difficult task considering how muddled with anxiety they were. Gathering what little confidence you have, you reply, “Either way, we’re closed for the day. If you’re looking for something, please come tomorrow.”
As you brush past him to hang up your apron, you’re quickly tugged back with an insistent hand on your wrist. His deep chocolate eyes find yours again, and you can’t help but hold your breath as you wonder what would be coming next.
“I’m here because you called me,” he states plainly, as if this fact should be obvious to you.
Your mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish before you stutter, “I don’t even know who you are?”
His features are painted with amusement, as if your confused expression was funny to him. He backs up to lean against the counter casually, letting go of your wrist in the process. The warmth from his grasp lingers, and you find it hard to concentrate on the words he utters next.
“I’m here to help your store. You’re struggling, aren’t you?” he gestures around to the untouched tables, their accompanying chairs all properly tucked in due to lack of use. The observation makes your heart sink again, and you struggle not to let his comment hurt you. Even if this was something you knew already, hearing another person point it out so obviously nevertheless rubbed salt in the wound.
“Hey…I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m here to make a deal with you, and I promise in a week this place will be packed,” he hurries forward, tilting your chin up to look at him as you try to blink away tears. You offer him whatever semblance of a smile you can, and he offers you one of his own in response.
“How are you going to help?” you wonder, “How do I know I can trust you?”
The stranger snaps his fingers and all of a sudden, the ties of your apron begin undoing themselves as if an invisible hand were working at them. You watch, stunned in silence, and your apron drifts over to the man and serenely loops itself over his neck. Apron secured, he strides over behind the counter and sets to work. His motions are practiced with a smooth hand which make his actions as exquisite as a performance. Mesmerized, you watch as he gathers the perfect amount of milk foam over the espresso shots. As he hands the finished cappuccino in front of your eager eyes, you swear his fingers glow slightly against the side of the mug.
Abandoning all reason, you take a sip of the mysterious man’s finished product. Immediately, your lips curl into a smile. It tastes as amazing as it looks, and you swear it’s the best drink you’re ever had. All the notes are balanced perfectly, and the temperature isn’t too scalding either. Even the most experienced barista may not be able to create such a masterpiece, especially with the average ingredients Love You a Latte supplied.
“Who are you?”
He doesn’t answer for a second, simply tugging the cup from your hands and taking his own sip. His mouth lingers slightly against the rim, his eyes observing you with satisfaction. Humming slightly, he taps the handle of the now-empty mug and it begins cleaning itself within your sink before settling back on the shelf to dry.
“I’m the God of Coffee. However, you can just call me Mark. It’s a lot easier to say,” he finally answers, before hanging your apron on the hook with his own hands and not whatever magic he controls.
“You’re a god? I never knew there were actual gods, especially not for coffee…” the idea almost makes you giggle, as you wonder whether there would be a god for cinnamon rolls too.
“Well, fortunately for humankind, we’re very real. You were hoping for a way to save your aunt’s café earlier, and now I’m here,” he rests his chin against his hand that’s propped up against the counter.
“I’m thankful you made me that cup of coffee earlier. I think anyone could trust you after that display,” you quip, much more comfortable now that you accepted that you could actually help your aunt’s business stay afloat.
He blushes, and the dusty pink across his cheekbones actually surprises you. You didn’t think gods would be so easily fazed over a compliment, but his bashfulness only makes Mark more endearing than before.
“So, are you just going to make all our drinks from now on?” you tilt your head slightly as you question him, wondering how you could convince your aunt to accept Mark’s help. She sure wouldn’t be as accepting of a supposed “god” since she was so strung up with figuring out finances already.
Shaking his head, he gives the top of your head a pat before saying, “Nope. I’ll just give you some of my powers.”
“What do you mean?”
“From now on, you’ll be able to add a little special something to any coffee order you make. In fact, I’ll be magicking this store a little so it’ll help improve the customer experience,” as he finishes his thought, he quickly adds, “I don’t just help anyone. You and your aunt have worked hard for this café, so it’s only right that it gets the attention it deserves.”
“You said you’d make a deal with me. What’s my end of the bargain?” you didn’t have much, so you were genuinely curious about what he could want from you.
He reaches for your hands, pressing his fingertips against your right palm before switching to the left. As he does this, you feel a strange warmth flowing throughout your hands, and you’re unsure whether your heart is racing because of the magic or because the way he brushes against your fingers with his own.
When he’s finished, he simply straightens up and replies, “Just make me a cup of coffee once in a while.”
With that, he fades alongside the setting sun.
☕☕☕☕☕
It appears that Mark is telling the truth, because your store is bustling by the end of the week. Word seems to travel fast when it came to delicious foods and drinks, so the amount of new faces you’ve seen make it hard for you to remember names—even if that was your special talent.
You call out orders, taking the time to hand each customer their order and personally wish them a pleasant day. You knew to be grateful for the new development, so you did your best to offer what little you could to add to the positive change. Even if Mark had helped make your drinks stellar, kindhearted customer service was essential too.
Even though you had only seen the man once, you sense the moment he’s in the room. Brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you look up from the croissant in your hands to see Mark sitting across the room with a smile. You can’t help but grin back, handing the last customer of the day her warmed-up pastry. When she leaves, you sneak off from your position behind the counter to approach him.
As soon as you’re within earshot, Mark says, “You look much happier Y/N.”
Assuming one of his godly duties is to already know the names of those he assists, you brush away the shiver that dances across your spine when he says your name.
“All thanks to you of course. What can I get you?”
“Surprise me,” he replies.
You can’t help the way your arms tremble as you adjust the steam wand into your pitcher of milk. Watching the way foam begins developing as a result of the heat and air bubbling in the liquid, you pray that whatever magic he gave you helps you also make a good decision for what to offer a literal God of Coffee.
Tapping the side of the cinnamon shaker in your hands, you watch as small brown specks dot the snow-white of the milk foam. Satisfied, you carry your creation over to the figure watching you with interest. Your coworkers don’t pay you much heed, opting to simply clean up as quickly as possible in order to clock-out on time. Since you were the manager’s relative, they were relatively lenient with you, never giving you a hard time or questioning you. It was nice at times, but it also made it difficult to befriend them, as they always placed you on a pedestal.
As he takes the drink you offer to him, his fingers brush against your own. It’s a small gesture, but it still does wonders in dispelling the fear you felt in approaching him. Almost immediately, Mark nods in appreciation.
“Pumpkin spice latte. Fits the season quite well,” he notes, before tipping the coffee into his waiting mouth.
“You knew that before tasting it?” you admire, wondering what the extent of his powers were.
“Of course,” he says as if agreeing that the sky was blue.
He waits for you until you finish locking up. In the time that he had been gone, you always wondered whether the sacrifices this god sought paled in comparison to how much he was helping you. After all, the sales generated were well over anything the café had previously mad. Your aunt had been ecstatic, immediately setting to work developing new menus to keep up with the growing engagement. Perhaps she felt that if she questioned why everything was happening, the bubble would burst like a dream. You were grateful for her easy acceptance, smiling whenever you noticed the gentle glow against a customer’s coffee cup that reminded you of Mark’s lingering presence.
“Are all gods like you?” you ask, tucking your keys back into your purse before running a hand through your hair in an attempt to fix any stray strands.
“Not quite. I’m one of the lesser gods, so that probably makes me less full of myself,” he jokes, laughing slightly when he notices the way you cover your mouth to laugh as well.
“I’m glad,” you reply.
He leads you all the way to your apartment, and the fact that he’s aware of your residence is simply another observation you accept as part of his godly duties. When you’re right outside the black metal gates, your hand hesitating against the keypad to open them, you realize that you’re reluctant to leave him.
“Y/N?”
You sheepishly turn to face him with an embarrassed expression, “You’ll be back again? Soon?”
Your question surprises him, as if he couldn’t believe you would request his presence in the way you did. Gathering his composure, he only ruffles your hair adoringly in response. He takes two steps back, his form barely visible when he finally whispers, “Yes.”
You stand there until you’re completely sure he’s gone. The soft ‘thank you’ that escapes your parted lips is quickly caught by a passing breeze. You pray that he hears it.
☕☕☕☕☕
Fall rushes past like a memory that’s difficult to grasp in its entirety. You developed a habit of counting the times Mark had visited you. Originally, you only offered him items available on your menu. You were confident that those drinks would at most be passable, and free drinks were a worthy trade-off for Love You a Latte’s sudden flourishing. Eventually, after some teasing encouragement from the Coffee God himself, you began experimenting. Taking ideas from flavor profiles you already knew would mingle well, you would happily offer those to him instead as his scheduled sacrifice. He was an honest critic, providing tips on how to improve taste or mouthfeel. Laughing whenever you would take notes and hang onto each word he utters; he’d simply call you ‘cute’ before returning to the drinks you offered him.
You wonder if being a deity also means he notices how you were slowly admitting him into your life.
Mark hadn’t been in the store for a week, something that was atypical for the man. Your fellow baristas had long clocked out for the day, bidding you half-hearted goodbyes after you insisted on doing some inventory review. Counting the boxes of oat milk remaining in the storage for the third time, you sigh and hang up your apron. Remembering the way he had fixed your strap absentmindedly the first day you’d met him, you run your fingers against the fabric in mimicry. It was a stupid emotion, but you missed him.
Even then, you couldn’t help the hope rising in your chest that told you he would be waiting for you at one of the tables you wiped down earlier in the day. When that didn’t happen, you told yourself that he would try to scare you as soon as you turn your back to lock the front door of the coffee shop. The music you listened on the way home still couldn’t soothe your powerful expectations, which chased you like hungry wolves all the way back to your apartment.
It’s only when you’ve changed into an oversized hoodie and worn sweatpants, ready to jump into bed and call it a night, that your wishes are finally answered.
“Y/N.”
No many how many times you heard his voice rumble with your name, you couldn’t help the way it felt like a shot of espresso to your system. He’d say it in warning whenever he notices you slyly trying to slip salt into his contracted offering as a prank or in a sort of gentle happiness when he leaves you outside your apartment in goodbye. You knew it was futile, letting yourself be affected by the natural awe that gods likely possessed. Your foolish mortal feelings would mean nothing to him, as he was merely here for business purposes.
“Hi,” you push away the sadness in your tone and clear your throat, “You usually don’t show up in my bedroom.”
Your tease garners an immediate reaction from him. Even though the night settles early in the winter evenings, you notice the scarlet color he tries to hide. You sit up from under your blankets, hoping that he stays longer than he used to tonight.
“I’m sorry I’ve been away,” he continues, averting his gaze.
You’re not used to the sudden awkwardness. Previously, the two of you would talk nonstop at the café and the walk home that were occurring two or three times a week. It was as if the god you knew had been replaced by this uncomfortable clone. It hurt you more than the idea that you would never be meaningful to him.
“It’s fine. I’m sure you’ve been busy.”
You’re not sure what you want. You want him to return back to the Mark you knew, the one who would tell you funny stores about his brothers and help you in the café whenever you needed a hand. You missed the Mark that looked like he didn’t want the day to end whenever he took the time to consume your coffee offering while laughing at your stories of unique customer experiences. You missed the way his hands would brush against yours, whenever he leaned in closer to hear you above the harsh winter winds on your nightly walks.
But above all else, you suddenly want him to tell you he missed you too.
“Y/N, I have other obligations elsewhere,” he finally relents, body sagging with the weight of the information he just exposed.
Even without the details, you know what this means.
“Will the café be fine without you?” you add, hoping to keep the disappointment in your tone at bay.
He moves forward to settle down on the edge of your bed, leaving the previous spot he’d occupied by your window. When his hand rests on your knee, you know you should push him off to rid yourself of the jolt of something you suddenly felt. But you were frozen, eyes trained on the way he looked at you. It was utter, tender love.
“It’s been without me for the past month, Y/N.”
His confession causes you to momentarily lose your train of thought. Did he mean that he hadn’t been using his magic for the past few weeks? But he still stopped by and complimented the drinks you were creating…why would he still be around if he was no longer holding up his end of the bargain?
“The magic in here,” he continues after taking your hand in his, “isn’t simply limited to what I gave you when we first made our agreement.”
You wait for him to continue, unable to help the way your fingers instinctively tighten around his. He doesn’t seem to mind, because he adjusts his grip to allow your fingers to intertwine with his own longer ones. You know you’re blushing, and you don’t need to see the small smirk tugging against his lip corner to know that.
“You didn’t need me to be successful. I gave the shop a small push in the right direction, but soon enough, the hard work and love in each coffee you sold echoed stronger in your customers than whatever strings I could’ve pulled,” he says.
His fingertips brush the tears away from your cheeks. You sniffle, upset that your vulnerability showed so obviously in front of Mark. He tugs on your hand slightly so you direct your gaze to connect with his again. In his eyes, you think you find comfort telling you that he didn’t mind your crying.
“Ever since that pumpkin spice latte, I’ve never given you access to my magic when you made drinks for me.”
“But wouldn’t magic have made them better? Everything I made must’ve only been subpar to you then,” you bite your lip, worrying that he had been lying to you all along that your sacrifices had been enjoyable to him at all.
He chuckles before pulling you into his arms. You drink in the soft scent of coffee beans against his skin, nuzzling close to the crook of his neck to seek the warmth there. His skin radiates heat like a freshly brewed batch of morning coffee. The way he rests his hand against the back of your head, slowly brushing his fingers through the strands of hair there does wild things to your pulse. There’s no way he doesn’t feel it drumming against your chest, with the two of you being this close.
“I wanted to enjoy whatever you made as something uniquely you,” he pulls back so you can see the stars shining in his eyes, “If you’ve learned anything from our companionship these past few months, it should be about how talented you are.”
You grip his own hoodie in your hands, fearing that if you didn’t hold onto him, he wouldn’t disappear just like he had the past 52 times.
“Please don’t go.”
The words fall like fractured pieces of glass on the floor. You let the pain fully seep into your voice now, hoping that he would stay even if it was out of pity. Instead, Mark simply presses his palm against your cheek before leaning in to give you the best kiss you’ve ever had.
He tastes bittersweet, and you wonder if it’s the coffee he’s probably had already or the fact that everything about this moment is a sort of painful happiness. His other hand joins the other to cup your face delicately, as if he couldn’t believe you were real. Lips soft yet desperate, you match his pace as you etch each detail into your memories. As long as you lived, you didn’t want to forget Mark.
At your insistence, he stays with you for the rest of night. Pressed up against his chest, you can almost delude yourself into thinking that you were a normal girl sleeping beside her normal boyfriend. You force yourself to stay awake as long as you could, not wanting to forget the small details of his face. From the bridge of his nose to the sharp line of his jaw, you trace these features until you fall asleep. Giving him a final kiss goodbye, you let the final tear cascade from the corner of your eyelid when he finally murmurs those three special words against your hair that you’ve been waiting to hear.
Notes: just soft things. Im writting in 1st person.
Synopsis:Mark getting off work late and etc.
It is 1am. I have been trying to go to sleep for the past 2 hours but I still wasn't able. I stared blankly at the ceiling as I heard the door open. Mark's back. He had already come out of the shower. He smelt like fresh lavender and look extremely fluffy with his wet hair. He proceeds to seat beside where I was laying.
"Why are you still up?hmm" he hummed as he gently caress my head. His eyes were filled with concern but in a good way. He was worried about me.
I continue to lay there. I took his hand from my head and put it where my heart is. I looked at him in the eyes.
"Mark there is no need for you to be worried. I'm just having a lil trouble with falling asleep" I told him. I hoped that I have successfully reassured him and made him stopped worrying about me.
He then looked straight in my eyes. It stayed like this for 3 minutes or so. He then got up and said.
" I know what can help you sleep! I sweet lullaby could hopefully make you fall asleep." He then takes the guitar that he plays with in his free time. He starts playing John Mayer's edge of desire. I looked at his back profile. I am pretty sure he was back facing me because he was embarrassed or smth. I could see that little flush in his cheeks. As he strum the chords, I could feel a little sleepy. I love hearing his voice, even when its not warmed up. It made me feel safe. I closed my eyes and focused on his voice and my breathing. I was then slipped into the dream
world. I vaguely heard Mark said I love you. And then everything faded into black.
It had been about a month since Jihee had moved to Seoul. School had official started back up within that time, and it became hard for her to meet up with Mark even though they were in the same class. It as hard on her since she didn’t have him by her side, he was after all her only friend in South Korea.
Jihee had been considered very introverted since she was a small child. People had always been drawn to her anyways, and she would be put in an awkward position when they tried to associate with her. When she refused to talk to them or found it hard to people would think she was stuck up and inconsiderate. She was labeled as the rich kid that was too good to hangout with ‘normal’ people. Yet, she almost instantly connected with Mark.
From the very day they met at the cafe, up to this very moment, Jihee always spent her free time with him. Mark seemed to be her guardian angel in this strange place she moved to. He helped her with her lessons after school, and would order food for her when they went out for lunch together. Even though it seemed like a blessing to her, Jihee also knew that she would have to learn to speak Korean fluently at some point.
It was finally Friday. In a matter of minutes school would be let out and Jihee would meet Mark outside of the classroom where he would always meet her. She couldn’t figure out how he managed to get there before the bell rang when his final class of the day was on the other side of the building.
As the clock ticked by, the excitement started to become evident on Jihee’s face. Mark had invited her to go to the park with him and a few of his friends. She hadn’t met any of his friends yet, and she was excited because that meant he thought of her as one of his friends. Soon the bell could be heard throughout the school, and the noisy sound of the other teenagers hustling out of the classroom could be heard. Jihee grabbed her school bag that was in the chair netted to her and started to pile her books and other school materials in it before she rushed out into the hallway herself.
When she finally stepped out of the classroom she locked eyes with Mark who stood across the hallway from her, his hands in his pockets, and his back leaning against the wall. There were a few other boys standing next to him, nudging each other in a playful way. Mark smiled at her and waved her to come over.
“Hi, Jihee.” Mark and one of the boys said as she approached them. She recognized the first boy as Jaehyun. He was a quiet and shy boy who was in her Algebra II class. THe second boy was someone she had seen before, but never actually talked to. His name was Taeyong. He was technically a grade ahead of them, but he was the embodiment of a five year old child. Lastly there was Sicheng. He was a Chinese transfer student. They had spoken to each other once when they accidentally ran into each other while trying to find their way to class. Neither understood Korean well enough to understand the maps that were placed in the hallways, and eventually found the office together. She smiled at them, and could feel herself start to become awkward as they all huddled in the hallway.
“Jihee is shy, so don’t be offended if she doesn’t talk to right away.” Mark said to the group. “Do you know them?” That question was directed towards her, and she nodded her head.
“I’ve met Jaehyun and Sicheng.. This is my first time actually talking to Taeyong.” She told Mark in English.
“Do you not speak Korean?” Jaehyun asked.
“Only a little.” She replied in broken Korean, a blush forming on her face at the embarrassing sound. From the corner of her eye she could see Mark smile a bit and she could hear the small giggle from Taeyong.
“I’m fluent in English as well if you need anything.” Jaehyun told her. Even though he was most definitely the shy one in the group, Jaehyun seemed to open up pretty easily to her.
