prompt: “I know I’m not that easy, but babe I’m on my knees.”
extra: angst & fluff
note: god i’ve been writing so much fwb recently what’s wrong with me. anyways here’s fwb mark lmfao
“you have no reason to be this fucking possessive!”
your voice rings through your apartment as you glare at your friend, the anger in your words emanating outwards with a force previously unknown to you. in the two years you’ve had your thing with mark, you don’t think you’ve ever been this intensely angry with him - if you close your eyes, you’ll see red. it’s insane to you that you’re even having this discussion now, after being fuckbuddies for so long, but you suppose it had to happen sometime.
“he was trying to woo you for, like, three fucking hours, and you just sat there and entertained him!” mark yells back, voice gruffer than you’ve ever heard it. his rage just makes you roll your eyes back into your head, cracking your knuckles as you try to gain control of yourself. once you’ve steeled you’re nerves, you plant your feet, getting your next sentence out through gritted teeth.
“the appropriate response to seeing something you didn’t like would’ve been to come over and ask if we could talk privately, not to come over and start sucking on my damn face right in front of the poor guy,” you seethe, your face scrunched up in exasperation as you attempt to keep your volume level in the face of mark’s own anger. he says nothing, and you take it as a sign to continue. “what the hell did you prove by doing that? what message were you trying to send? what was the goddamn thought process that went through your mind-”
“i had to show him that you’re mine!” mark thunders, booming voice easily overcoming yours as he interrupts you. it’s not necessary - the confession itself shocks you into silence as you process what he’s said.
mark’s called you plenty of things before. he’s never, not once, referred to you as his.
you watch as he exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping as he looks away from you. suddenly, mark looks almost forlorn - nothing like the man who’d been in front of you moments before. it’s evident that he’s said something that’d been a source of heartache, and you watch as he rests a shaking palm flat against his chest as if to prove to himself that he’s still alive.
you say nothing, and he draws his own conclusions.
“i- i should go,” mark says, voice barely above a whisper now. “i- yeah. i should go. i’m sorry for... for everything.”
he’s looking down, not capable of looking at you now that you know what is the worst possible thing for you to know: he’s caught feelings for you. mark can’t bear to look you in the eyes, not when he’s just killed your friendship with a single conviction-filled sentence. his heart feels like it’s made out of lead, but that’s because he can only assume that you’ll never talk to him again.
mark isn’t sure he’ll be able to live with that.
he’s busy wallowing in his own doubts and assumptions when he walks past you on his way to the door, only to be surprised when you grab a hold of his arm. without meaning to, mark looks up, his gaze meeting your own sincere one.
“you need to stop making everything so hard,” you breathe out, pulling him so he’s standing right in front of you. mark can barely think as you rest your hands against his chest and look him eye to eye. “like, i know i’m not that easy myself, but god, babe, i’m on my knees. really. don’t make life difficult for us.”
“babe?” mark murmurs, brow furrowing. “us?” he asks again, tone slightly hopeful. a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod.
“pet names and terms of endearment are fair game,” you explain, throwing your arms over his shoulders so you’re chest to chest with mark. his arms wrap around your waist on habit, and you can see the realization dawn on him as his shy smile starts to grow. there’s only fondness in his eyes as the sadness ebbs away into nothing, and you can only imagine he sees the same thing happening to you. you relax into mark’s hold before you finally continue speaking again.
hi can i request, mark lee / 15 / w stoner au, pls :D
prompt: “I can't wait 'til you come over, I'm not sober, so you know how it's 'bout to go.”
extra: stoner
note: i’ve never smoked in my life so there will be hella inaccuracies i apologize beforehand,, ty/creds to @neocitybynight and @txthots for some ideas
extended note: some suggestiveness
your boyfriend’s a stoner.
it sounds like a cliché personality sketch of some kind of cheesy coming-of-age movie character. your boyfriend’s a stoner, and you’re every parent’s dream child, with your good grades and responsibility. it sounds like a cliché coming-of-age plot, the kind where the couple ends up either heartbroken or dead.
you’re not heartbroken, and you sure are hell aren’t dead. what you are right now, though, is just a little, tiny, minuscule bit horny. you’d arrived just a bit too late to do anything other than catch a small amount of secondhand smoke, so maybe you’re on your way to getting high, but other than that, your brain is very, very focused on the love between your thighs.
it’s too bad that your boyfriend - your beautiful, wonderful, adorable, and stupidly hot boyfriend - is currently rambling about the stars. one of his hands rests on top of your bare thigh - your shorts have bunched up - while the other is gesturing wildly. mark’s fingers drum absentmindedly against your skin and you squirm under his touch, but he doesn’t notice.
when he’d called you and told you to get in the car a half hour prior, he hadn’t smoked yet. you can hear his words repeating in your mind now - ‘can’t wait ’til you come over, baby. won’t be sober, so you know how it’ll go.’. there’d been a telltale smirk in his tone, and you’d gotten in your car fully expecting to get laid upon arriving at mark’s place.
now that you’re actually here? it couldn’t be farther from expectations. you can’t say you’re mad, though, not when mark seems so in awe of the universe.
“ - and stars just... exist... isn’t that wack, bro? they’re just out there doing, like, star shit. isn’t it fucking nuts? and i think they have something to do with astrology... i don’t even know what that is but i know i’m a lion -”
“leo, baby, you’re a leo.” you murmur, cutting him off to correct him. mark turns his head in time to see you gently place your hand on top of his, and from the look in his eyes it’s as if he’s just realized that his hand’s been on your thigh this whole time.
“damn...” he mutters, hooded gaze dropping to where his palm is flat against your leg. for a moment, through the hyper-clarity you feel like you have, you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll trace up your thigh, over your hips, and under your waistband like you want him to. because of this, this hope, you lean forward, ready for whatever comes out of mark’s mouth next.
“... your skin feels super weird under my hand. under my skin? woah... our skin is touching.”
okay, well, maybe you aren’t ready for whatever he says. before you can object, mark is rubbing his hand along your thigh over and over and over again, stare starstruck as he marvels at the feeling. it’s cute - he’s cute - but you can’t help but tense your thighs underneath his touch. he feels your muscles twinge and looks up at you again; you aren’t sure whether he’s attracted or alarmed.
mark says nothing, though, just stares at you as if he’s discovering you for the first time while his hand continues its trek. for your part, you’re finally starting to feel it too: there’s a certain warmth around you, and you want it to engulf you. maybe you’re okay with feeling mark rub the skin of your thigh - it’s just as weird as he says it is once you really put your mind to it - and talking about the stars. maybe it’s what you’re meant to do, what anyone is meant to do. maybe you don’t have free will and everything is done to you, rather than you doing everything. maybe you aren’t horny, you’re just-
“you’re horny?”
mark’s voice pierces through your thoughts, and you realize you’ve been speaking out loud for the last half minute or so. you flush, turning to meet his gaze. no longer are his eyes wide open - his pupils are blown wide, yes, but his gaze has darkened into being hooded. his hand stops its movements, fingers slipping under the bottom of your shorts and staying there.
he trains his waiting stare on you until you finally, albeit slowly - very slowly - nod yes. one corner of his mouth lifts up, and you really, really feel it this time.
the warmth engulfs you at the same time mark crushes his lips against yours, fingers finally sliding up to where you desperately need them.
prompt: “Everyone told me I’m crazy picking up a boy that drives a Camry.”
extra: streetracer au
note: suggestive (mild mentions of sex), jeno + cars which might be emotionally overwhelming for y’all because PHEW is it overwhelming for me omfg, this one’s a little long for a drabble but overall it isn’t super long (it’s like... 1.4k?)... i lowkey wanna write a racer jeno fic but idk lmk if that’s something the people want lmfao
july 5th, 2020.
it’s the first race of his you’ve ever seen.
you’ve memorized the course, a consequence of hours spent staring at the map until it’s been imprinted beneath your eyelids. the route ends where it starts, and the rest of the roads will be closed off - you’re sure renjun, one of the officiants, has bribed the city’s construction sector to ensure this - so no bystanders are hurt, but you don’t particularly care about unlucky pedestrians or drivers that could be potential collateral damage. still, it’s on the outskirts of the city, so there wasn’t as much risk as there could’ve been to start with.
it sounds bad when you think of it, but you can’t bring yourself to be repentant of what you worry about and what you don’t. after all, your focus is exactly where it should be:
jeno lee.
your boyfriend hasn’t been shy in letting you know about his pastimes: he’d told you about his penchant for speeding through the city in his toyota camry after the fifth date, had murmured it into the skin of your bare shoulder as his fingers skimmed your bare waist. it was the first night you’d stayed over, waking up to the sunrise, coffee, and round two. his apartment was - is - tiny compared to yours, a studio apartment just big enough to live in versus your penthouse suite uptown. still, from that night on, his place feels more like home than yours ever will.
you hadn’t really talked about how worried you are for him then, instead allowing him to give and take to and from you as he pleased. you still haven’t talked about how worried you are for him, although instead of being in his bed at 2 am you’re on the sidelines of one of his street races, 2 way radio in one hand and phone open to a police scanner app in the other.
it’s insane, you think to yourself, that you’re an active participant in a highly illegal race. if any of your friends - who all believe jeno to be a terrible influence, in his tattooed glory and always shrouded in cigarette smoke - could see you now, they might have simultaneous aneurysms. they’re all far too enveloped in the socialite life you’re trying desperately to shed.
none of that matters to you now, though - what matters is the cars you can see emerging from a turn far, far off in the distance. there’s only two - a bright red civic and a sleek black camry, the latter carrying your boyfriend and his best friend jaemin - and they’re neck and neck, tire to tire. it’s a short race, a quick couple of loops around the track that’s been laid out for the night. there’s prize money, yes, but it’s only a couple hundred bucks - if jeno wins, he’ll put his half towards paying his rent.
you watch with bated breath as the cars get closer and closer, your eyes trained on their front bumpers. renjun makes his way to the center of the starting line, his faith in the two drivers astounding you as he waits patiently for them to near him. mark jogs across to set up a slow motion camera on the other side, and, on your right, jisung sets one up as well. renjun stands still, gaze piercing the night as he stares straight ahead. before anyone can process the end of the race, both cars race past. your hair flies up from the wind generated by the cars’ speeds, and you hear the distinct sounds of two sets of brakes squealing as both cars finally, finally come to a rest.
you hold your breath as mark and jisung analyze their films. donghyuck pushes open the drivers’ door of the civic, with chenle walking out of the passengers’ side. jaemin leaves the camry first, and jeno follows, running his hands through his hair as he gets out. you’re too focused on mark and jisung to notice your boyfriend until his cologne engulfs you, just moments before he pulls you into his side by your waist.
“how was your first race?” he whispers, lips right by your ear as he leans towards you. you relax against his hold as you mumble a ‘good’, and he presses his lips to your hairline as the two of you wait. yes, winning the race is, at most, rent money and a mild sense of pride, but jeno’s arms are tense around you.
he loves cars, and he loves racing them for enjoyment, yes, but you know that he’d rather be racing them to win and only to win. his dreams are lofty, but if he can win another streetrace, who’s to say he can’t keep winning his way up until he’s good enough for the big leagues? he’s beaten every racer in the city except for donghyuck, and whoever wins this race will hold the unofficial title of truly being the best of the best.
tonight has been jeno’s toughest race to date. he wants to live off the adrenaline just a little longer... that, and rent is due next week.
after eons, mark raises his head.
“i’ve got jeno,” he calls out, and jeno’s arms pull even tighter around you as he awaits the final verdict.
“so do i.” jisung responds, only just loudly enough to be heard by everyone. without meaning to, you let out a laugh of pure, unadulterated joy, and jeno spins you around to hug you properly. you hear donghyuck and chenle congratulate him, feel jeno get handed $100 by renjun while the other $100 goes to jaemin. you’re basking in your pride, face against jeno’s jacket.
it’s the first victory of his that you witness, but it certainly isn’t the last.
♕ ♕ ♕
september 12th, 2024.
“you know,” you start, words coming out in a satiated sigh as you shift to lay on your side. the silk sheets of the hotel suite’s bed tangle between your legs as you begin to trace random patterns on jeno’s skin.
“hm?” your fiancé prompts, smiling down gently at you as you lay your hand flat on his chest.
“way back when, everyone - all of my ‘friends’ - told me that i was crazy for picking up a boy who rode around in a camry and, quote unquote, looked like trouble. i wonder if they’re watching you now.” you glance up to meet his gaze, and the corner of his eyes crinkle as he lets out a quiet chuckle.
“don’t know if i ever stopped looking like trouble, to be honest, even if i don’t drive my camry anymore. haven’t changed much in these past four years.” jeno’s voice is husky at this time of night, just a little gravelly and soft enough to where you strain a little to listen. he never fails to make your heart do somersaults, even after five years of knowing him.
“you literally just won the italian grand prix, and you say you haven’t changed much?” your tone is still soft, though not without an edge of incredulity. jeno traces a finger down your naked side, moving so he’s pillowing his head with his forearm, all just to see you properly.
“i’m still the same guy, just with money and a better job. my morals are the same, fundamentals are the same - my love for you, what defines me, it’s still the same. just because i’ve got a couple of pro racing trophies under my belt -”
“- eight -” you interrupt, brow furrowed at jeno short-selling himself. he sees this, raising his hand to tease against your scalp.
“- under my belt,” he continues. “it doesn’t mean anything truly important has changed.”
“... i guess.” you finally acquiesce, and jeno fondly tugs you close so that you’re lying on top of him. the new position has something stirring in his chest, and he brings his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw before pulling you gently towards him.
“wanna know what i’m putting my prize money towards?” he asks, words sounding harder than they should. you squirm slightly, still just a little fucked out from earlier, but jeno’s always had a way of making you want more.
“what?” you ask, shifting so you’re straddling him. he lets you plant your hands on his chest before he responds, the beginning of a smirk evident against his plush lips.
“our honeymoon,” he whispers, leaning up so his lips are brushing yours. “wanna put all that cash towards a room with enough surfaces for me to bend you over to last us a whole week.”
jeno closes the space between the two of you with a bruising kiss, and you find that he’s right - nothing really has changed in the past four years. he still fits you perfectly, body made for your own.
prompt: “I can't wait 'til you come over, I'm not sober, so you know how it's 'bout to go.”
this one’s a little short, i’m sorryyyy it’s just how i imagined the scenario in my head i guess
renjunnie is calling...
he’s very, very drunk when you pick up. he’s so damn drunk, actually, that it isn’t even him that’s calling you - it’s his best friend donghyuck using his phone.
“he kept climbing onto m- ‘jun, sit down, hold on - he keeps trying to fight me if i don’t call you so, i mean... yeah, here you go. hi, by the way, sorry (name).” donghyuck starts, and you can hear scrambling noises and mild squabbling in the background. you assume you can attribute that to renjun, and the thought of him wanting to talk to you so badly that he’s actively trying to hear you through the phone endears you.
“your boyfriend’s just a handful -” donghyuck starts again, only to be interrupted by a noise reminiscent of a drawn out, annoying whine. “renjun! god, here’s your fucking phone since you want it so damn bad.”
more scrambling noises ensue, and you’re left in the lurch on the other side, bowl of ramen in one hand and your phone in the other, for a few moments as the boys talk amongst themselves. when the line finally becomes properly active again, it’s renjun who speaks.
“baby,” he starts, drawing out the last syllable of the word for as long as humanly possible. you hide your snicker by pulling the phone away from your ear, but it seems like he isn’t capable of perceiving it anyways - he’s pretty out of it. the fact that he’s thinking of you even when completely intoxicated has your heart flipping in your chest, but you do your best to draw your focus back to your drunk boyfriend.
“what’s up, junie?” you ask once he’s done, and he giggles into the phone.
“i can’t wait ‘til - wait ‘til you come over, baby,” renjun’s voice drops, and you realize that he’s trying to sound sexy right now. in any other circumstance and if he was using any other tone, you’d be halfway to his apartment after hearing those words fall from his lips. now, though? you have to keep yourself from grinning at how mildly adorable he sounds.
“i’m not sober, so you know how- how it’s about to go.” he continues, voice softening towards the end of his sentence. there’s some kind of cacophony going on behind him, and as renjun squawks indignantly you realize it’s the sound of his friends laughing at him.
“junie,” you start, stopping your quiet laughter just in time to morph your tone to a softer, more caring one. “baby, do you need me to come take care of you?”
“yes!” your boyfriend responds, giving you a far more excited response than you’d expected. you only realize how he must’ve taken your innocent question once he starts speaking again, and by then it’s too late.
“you should- you should wear that black set i bought for you last week, you know, with the lace? i’ll kick the guys out and everything. i miss you baby- ah, shit, i feel like i’m gonna pass out.” renjun gets ramble-y just as the laughter behind him rises to a roar, and there’s another few seconds of rabble in the background until someone else comes to the phone.
“it’s me, jeno,” the voice crackles through, and before you can voice your concern over renjun’s ‘passing out’ comment, jeno keeps speaking. “your idiot of a boyfriend is fine, but donghyuck and jaemin are trying to get him to lie down and start drinking water. we’ll watch over him for the night, don’t worry too hard, yeah?”
“thanks, jen,” you respond, sighing in relief as you do. jeno gives you a cursory but kind ‘no problem’ before hanging up, leaving you to exhale through your lips and drop your hand from your ear, placing your phone on top of the arm of your couch. after a moment, you pick it up again, opening it to set an alarm for 8 in the morning.
after all, renjun’s going to have one hell of a hangover, and you figure that you should get to his apartment early to clean up the things that aren’t clean and attend to things that haven’t been attended to. it’s what he does when you’re hungover - you owe him the reciprocation.
who knows, maybe you’ll even wear the black lace set he seems to adore so much.
prompt: “Not negative, just different... you wanna have lunch, and I wanna have a picnic. You wanna go up, I wanna just fly all night.”
extra: exes
present.
you see him first.
jeno’s across the room, red solo cup in one hand while he’s using the other to prop himself up against the wall that’s 1) in front of him and 2) against the back of the girl he’s currently chatting up. his hair is back to black, and he’s in jeans and a red tank that have your mouth drying out. he’s unreal under the dimmed lights of the frat house - it shouldn’t be possible for anyone to be so beautiful. you hate the way your heart twinges upon seeing him, willing it to practically stop beating. you’d rather that than even thinking about wishing for him back, after all.
it hadn’t always been like this.
i.
“you know, you might just be the love of my life.”
you whirl around in time to see the most handsome man you’ve ever met rake the fingers of one hand through his bleached blond hair, a teasing but gentle grin adorning his features. his other hand is outstretched, his unlocked phone safe in his large palm.
“that’s definitely the most tame - but also weirdest - pickup line i have ever heard.” you’re quick to respond, eyeing the glowing screen. the name of the man escapes you, though something in the back of your mind reminds you that he’s an architectural engineering major. you’ve seen him around campus, and you know he’s a member of the frat whose house you’re currently tipsy in. he watches, grin morphing into a smirk, as you take his phone and text yourself from it.
“seems to have worked though,” he responds, voice a pleasing timbre amongst the din of the partygoers. “i’m jeno.”
he leans in close to tell you his name, murmuring it against the shell of your ear in a faux attempt to have you hear him over the noise. you both know damn well he could’ve just talked a little louder and you would’ve been fine. still, you know that he isn’t just playing with you: he wouldn’t have asked for your number otherwise. jeno’s hot, though, and regardless of whether he has romantic intentions or purely sexual ones, you’re itching to get some action in tonight...
it takes you less than a second to go ‘fuck it’, leaning so your lips are by his ears, too.
“you have a room here, jeno?” you ask, and the way he wraps an arm around your waist tells you everything you need to know.
ii.
“we’ve really been together for a whole year,” your boyfriend marvels out loud, hand warmly enveloping your own. you say nothing, only squeezing his hand as you look out through the window of the ferris wheel carriage. jeno lifts your entertwined hands up, pressing a soft kiss against the back of yours.
when you get to the top of the ferris wheel, you turn to him, soft smile playing on your lips. he mirrors your expression before raising his hand - the one that isn’t holding your own - to cup your face with the utmost care, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever come into contact with.
“you know,” you whisper, leaning so his forehead is resting against yours. “you might just be the love of my life.”
jeno chuckles before closing the gap, tilting your chin up so your mouth can meet his plush lips. once you separate, he winds an arm around you, pulling you into his side.”
“you might just be mine, too.”
iii.
“so this is how we end,” you whisper, voice hoarse and laden with tears. it takes everything in jeno to keep him from reaching out and pulling you into his chest, from wiping your tears away and apologizing until all your heartache makes its rightful home in his chest. “over... over what, jeno? why are you doing this? i still don’t get it, i- i thought we were fine. is it me?”
his breathing feels like it stops as he realizes you’re blaming you, and he hastens to mutter our a rapid string of ‘no’s and ‘of course not’s. if he thought you’d listen, he’d be begging you to look him in the eyes right now. instead, you’re forlorn on his bed, staring at the bedsheets while picking at a loose thread. your quiet sniffles will haunt jeno for the rest of his nights.
he still loves you, he thinks he always will: it’s just that he puts you ahead of himself and vice versa, and that’s the kind of relationship that destroys itself in the end. you are so many things he isn’t, and he is so many things you aren’t. opposites cannot attract for forever. your fights are more and more frequent, and they pain him more every time. jeno trains his gaze on the carpet underneath him.
“it isn’t you - it isn’t either of us. our relationship is not negative, but we’re just so different... you wanna have lunch, and i wanna have a picnic. you wanna go up, and i wanna just fly all night. we’re on two ends of the same poem, and i- i don’t think we’ll ever be able to meet.”
he looks up from the ground once he’s done with his short spiel only to find that you’re packing up your things already. jeno shatters in that moment, knowing that the moment you step outside, his world will cave in. for now, for your sake, he keeps it in.
“you know...” you start, pausing just before you pull open the door. a cursory glance over jeno’s face, looking directly and deeply into his eyes for a moment, tells you that he does, in fact, know. you heave a heavy, heavy sigh, the kind that can barely be made to leave your body, and turn back around. you don’t finish your thought, and you don’t look back. once the lock clicks shut behind you, jeno all but collapses onto his bed, his heart pounding in his chest.
“you really are the love of my life.” jeno rasps out, doing his best to control his breathing. something fundamental in him cracks then, and he finds himself doubling over, trying to get ahold of himself. as the tears come and come and come, he finds himself repeating it like a mantra.
“you really are the love of my life.”
present.
jeno makes eye contact with you very suddenly, accidentally looking too far to the left while laughing at something the girl has said. the recognition is instant, and the instant regret and sadness that fill his eyes are inescapable. he suddenly seems ashamed at having been seen with someone else, as if he shouldn’t be with anyone but you.
before he can do anything as drastic as actually come over and approach you, you shoot him a quick, tight-lipped smile, your grip tightening around your own beer bottle as you do. jeno has no time to even process this gesture before you’re spinning on your heels, rushing to get out, to get away from him. he makes no move to follow you - why would he?
he’d been right, you realize, right as you become aware of the tears streaming down your face. jeno had been right, you really were too different. he seems to be getting along fine without you in ways that you aren’t, and it hurts more than you’d care to admit. he’d been right on another count, though, judging by how guilty he seemed when he saw you, and it’s one that dawns on you as you stare, wracked with sobs, up at the night sky, bottle dangling from your fingertips.
Congrats on 4k! For the prompt Mark + 2 + mafia au (I dunno that’s what I thought of when I read the lyrics) Hope you have fun with making these!
prompt: “Walk in with that devilish smile... that’s one thing I haven’t seen in a while. How have you been since I called you mine?”
extra: mafia
note: mentions of killing, etc.
“that’s one thing i haven’t seen in a while.”
your eyes are narrowed, heavily lidded in anger as you clutch the matte black phone receiver tighter. mark, acute as ever, gaze honed in on how your nails press backwards into your skin, can only smirk. he darts his eyes from your fingers up to your face, quirking an eyebrow very, very slightly as if trying to goad you into asking what he means.
you don’t have time for bullshit. your shift at the university bookstore starts in an hour, and you’ve been late too many times this past month, what with the trial and court proceedings and depositions and anything and everything possible.
your life barely feels like your own anymore. the man in front of you across the heavy duty transparent barrier in a prison jumpsuit that’s a little too big on him is a testament to all of this.
“know you won’t ask, so i’ll just tell you what the one thing i haven’t seen in a while is,” mark is oddly lax as he speaks to you, going so far as to lean as far back as he can without straining the receiver’s cord. the infuriating smirk remains, set perfectly in place. “it’s your devilish little smile. tell me, how’ve you been since i called you mine?”
“i was never yours,” you spit out harshly, mentally berating yourself as the words spill out. your therapist has told you to think more before you speak, to calm yourself and count to ten in your mind and a million other things you know are meant to help you. there’s no doubt that you’ve forgoed actually abiding by any of them. once you’ve spoken, you don’t stop. it isn’t surprising; after all, this is your first time visiting mark since his arrest. “i was never yours. you were mine, but i was never yours.”
“now what the hell makes you say that?” this time it’s mark who seems affronted, though you aren’t sure why. he even moves so he’s leaning forward, looking you directly in the eyes with the same brown-eyed lost-boy-next-door stare he’d trapped you with.
mark lee had convinced you that he was just another college student, albeit an easily flustered one with a penchant for pulling you into his lap and pressing sloppy kisses along your neck when you were alone together, with a love for hearing you read books outloud to him in the early hours of the day, with a smile for you and only you that you had access to whenever and wherever you wanted it.
“you told me that you’re from vancouver, that you were majoring in english lit, and that you worked part-time at the café by the bookstore. you never - you never told me that you have a fucking gun on you at all times, that you not only have a part in but you head goddamn crime rings in our city. you knew- you know me. you know me, and i know jackshit about you. so no, i’m not yours.”
your breathing is slightly raggedy once you’re done with your harried spiel, but it’s no matter. it’s annoying, and a terrible habit, but you find yourself more focused on the way mark’s face gradually drops the more you keep speaking. part of you - a very large part of you - wishes you could touch him, tell him it’ll be alright. the rest of you is aware that he’s a dangerous criminal and not even close to the adoring boyfriend mark lee you know and love.
“if i’d have told you that i’ve looked men directly in the eyes before taking their final breaths, that i’ve had more attempts on my life than either of us would be able to count, that being mark lee, the uni student, is easier than being minhyung, the mafia boss, would you have stayed? would you have loved me the way you do?”
“did,” you respond rapidly, eyes boring into mark’s. “the way i did.”
“the way you do,” mark insists, prominent adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “if i was out of your head, you wouldn’t have visited at all. i know you - if you’d only come for closure you wouldn’t seen me and then left immediately. i know you, and you know me, no matter how much you don’t believe me.”
“i watched you shoot a man on the same couch you’d fucked me hours earlier. how could i know you?” your inflection is strong, but your voice is weak. he’s right - of course he is - but it pains you to know so. how twisted must you be, to love him after everything?
“every part of me that i showed to you was real. i may not have given you the full truth, but it was to protect you as much as it was to protect myself. i gave you the truths i had to give, and if they weren’t enough, never let me know. i love you, (name). i love you.”
mark’s demeanor has changed greatly from when your interaction had first begun: he’s gone from cool and collected to pained and panicked, his voice steady but strained. he reaches a hand up, placing his palm to the glass. it’s as if he wants you to say it back, you realize, and you almost want to say it back. just as you open your mouth, though, a long, monotonous dial tone rings in your ear.
you watch, all urge to love and maybe even forgive mark draining out of you as he gets pulled up by his arms, dragged out of the room. there’s nothing else for you here, but you stay seated, unmoving, staring at the now-empty space in front of you.
“ma’am, your visiting period is over.” a voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see a guard standing impatiently behind you. you simply nod in response, turning back to the barrier.
as you get out of your seat, you reach out, resting your palm against the glass for just a moment.
prompt: “The moon, and the stars, are nothing without you.”
note: this is short but sweet!! ily
he’s laying on his back, using his forearm as a pillow as he stares up at the inky night sky. the thin blanket underneath the two of you doesn’t do anything to keep the harsh hardness of the rooftop from bothering you, but you do your best to pay it no heed as you shift, turning onto your side so you can see jeno better.
“didn’t know you were interested in the stars,” you say, small smile adorning your face as you trace his side profile with your gaze. “never brought it up.”
“because i’m not, not really,” jeno replies easily, turning his head so he’s looking you in the eyes. “i’m into the peace and quiet, though. and the night sky is pretty to look at.”
“just the night sky?” you quip, watching as his eyes fold into crescent moons as he smiles kindly at you.
“i mean... sunsets are nice. sunrises, too,” jeno says, reaching the hand he isn’t propping himself up on out to graze his fingers against your cheek. you feel as if there’s something he’s leaving unsaid for now, but you don’t chase after it - he’ll tell you whenever he’s ready. “but the world is just more still at night.” this last part comes out as a whisper, falling from his tongue as smooth as honey as you lean into his touch.
“you’re right,” you say, circling back to what he’d said before. “the night sky is pretty.”
“almost as pretty as you.” jeno riffs off of you as if he’s practiced at it, though, you suppose, after one whole year together, he is. his earnest, teasing sweetness makes you cringe even as your face burns slightly from the compliment, and you find yourself rolling onto your back so you don’t have to keep staring into your boyfriend’s roving eyes.
he notices. he chuckles at your haste.
“sap.” you grunt out, only causing jeno to finally laugh outright. he throws his arm over you, pulling you into him so he’s half on top of you, his warmth engulfing you.
“maybe so,” he murmurs, hand idly stroking up and down your side as his lips brush against your ear. “but that doesn’t change the fact that i’m right. the moon and the stars are nothing without you, and definitely nothing compared to you.”
“anniversaries make you mushy,” you respond after a long minute, trying your best not to show that he’s making your heart contract with his saccharine words. “noted.”
jeno snickers into your neck, and you squirm in his hold at the way his hair brushes your skin. he only holds you tighter, pressing a kiss right underneath your ear.
“i love you,” he says, and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in that moment. you finally move onto your side once more, shifting until you’re sure he can see your face in its entirety. jeno lets his hand rest against your hip as you raise your own to cup his jaw.
“i love you, too.” you tell him, and you finally close the distance between his lips and your own.
the universe may be lightyears across, but your universe is right in front of you.
prompt: “The moon, and the stars, are nothing without you.”
extra: the college au part is mostly in part 1
note: they are uhhh mega naked in this. there’s mild choking and uhhh marking
part 2 to this drabble requested by @chocojaehyun
“do you remember how we met?”
jaemin’s hand is running idly over the bare skin of your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. his question is so soft that you have to strain to hear it, but once you process what he’s asking you can’t help but smile softly. the hand you have resting on his chest comes to life, tracing tiny indiscernible shapes across his collarbone and pectorals.
“you mean... last year after you railed me in the bathroom of that one banquet hall to the point where i physically couldn’t walk, so you had to escort me out while telling people i’d had some sort of allergic reaction to shellfish? yes, i do remember.” your reply is straightforward, but you’re not miffed in the slightest. jaemin’s chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he pulls you closer still so your bare body is on top of his own.
you sit up straight, resting on top of his hips while your legs are on either side of his torso, your soft thighs pressing into his toned body. jaemin runs his hands up your legs to grab your waist, and act that is soft in nature but meant to keep you grounded against him in a way you can never resist.
“you told me you could only give me one single moment that night, that i could never have you again,” Jaemin hums thoughtfully, one hand leaving your waist to trail up your skin until it lies gently at the base of your throat. “what changed?”
“i’d thought that i already had the entire universe in my palm,” you respond, breath hitching slightly as jaemin establishes a barely-there grip on your throat. the rest of your sentence is rasped out - he always has this effect on you. “didn’t realize that the moon and the stars are nothing without you until you were inside me.”
jaemin’s dark gaze fixates on your own wide-blown pupils for a suffocating moment before a corner of his mouth quirks up into a devilish smirk. before you can process anything, you’ve been flipped over so your head is against a pillow and your body sinks into the soft sheets of jaemin’s bedspread. his grip on your throat loosens only so he can rest his thumb against your lower lip, watching, pleased, as your mouth falls open on instinct.
“let me remind you of all the cosmos, then,” he murmurs, leaning down so you can feel his body heat wrap around you, smothering you with fire in the way you’ll never have enough of. jaemin nips at the junction of your neck and jaw, drawing forth a moan as he gives you the first of many, many markings.
