lamourvae

[lamourvae]

MAYDAY MAYDAY I HAVE A VERY SAD IDEA FOR A FIC- i’m sorry y’all i woke up today and choose ANGST 😭

[lamourvae]

[18.54]

© littlesqoia, 2022.

disclaimer: age gap (f older; m younger), smoke and cigarettes, mentions of food, again lack of dialogues because that’s how i write lmao

Grey wasn’t his favorite pigment out of the spectrum of colors. Nor was it the complexion of ashes, the texture of smoke, and the smell of burning recollections and thoughts. It felt dreary. Being used to the blurring image of him as the kid with a goofy smile and toothy grins, Mark lee wasn’t a big fan of such aspects. He wasn’t and supposedly not to, according to the belief of those around him.

Yet, here he is. Smoke wafting around his cold features, the presence of it was sharpening. It was as if the ludicrous gas lines against the sharpness of his jawline, the dryness of his plump edges, and the little growing hairs around the base of his cheek. Being the utmost definition he detests. His lips puckered slightly, letting the awful grey color disperse into one with the gust of wind.

“Mark Lee!! Dinner’s ready, honey”

Edges of sharp black sphere pointed slightly, the movement of his eyes tremble as it waters more than none after hearing the angelic voice. His mom’s voice. There was always a sense of guilt from the perspective of reckless teenagers whenever his mom’s voice appeared as he took another whiff.

“Coming!” He replied, throwing the used cigarettes as he runs down the stairs. He blinks a few times, the action brings enough confidence in him that it could be enough to hide those little red lines around his eyes due to the smoke. A facade of his usual toothy grin glued on his face almost automatically, his mom shrugged to no apprehension.

As the boy in his usual orange beanie sit down, his nostrils scarcely flared to the gradually spreading scent of burnt chicken and curry. He lazily chewed on his bottom lips out of habit, feeling the sudden urge to check the kitchen and see if his mom was cooking something worth longer consideration for him.

Yet, as the troubled boy yearned for standing up, a voice managed to stop him from doing so.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your mom’s a great cook”

It was soothing, to say the least. Not a breath to be wasted and not a vocal to be too assertive, it was a voice Mark never heard of. To say it was quite angelic, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a wrong word to describe it by. He threw a glance behind him, noticing a slightly tall woman leaning on the tone of the dining chair. He tilted his head, eyebrows perched to express the unrest feeling he has as he glance up and down at the unknown woman.

Oh, she was older.

“I’m Y/N, your new neighbor in town,” the woman announced softly. Perhaps, Mark was being too over-analyzing, or too questioning, or perhaps even, Mark was just being himself as he realizes the way her eyes glints under the dim dining light. How the hazel mixed colors match perfectly well with the color of his dining room. There was an unknown feeling of interest to know more, to dive more into the depth of something unknown. If it could be addicting, than perhaps the boy wouldn’t mind such distractions.

“I’m Mark.” He replied with a smile.

This time, a genuine one.

[lamourvae]

[18.54]

© littlesqoia, 2022.

disclaimer: age gap (f older; m younger), smoke and cigarettes, mentions of food, again lack of dialogues because that’s how i write lmao

Grey wasn’t his favorite pigment out of the spectrum of colors. Nor was it the complexion of ashes, the texture of smoke, and the smell of burning recollections and thoughts. It felt dreary. Being used to the blurring image of him as the kid with a goofy smile and toothy grins, Mark lee wasn’t a big fan of such aspects. He wasn’t and supposedly not to, according to the belief of those around him.

Yet, here he is. Smoke wafting around his cold features, the presence of it was sharpening. It was as if the ludicrous gas lines against the sharpness of his jawline, the dryness of his plump edges, and the little growing hairs around the base of his cheek. Being the utmost definition he detests. His lips puckered slightly, letting the awful grey color disperse into one with the gust of wind.

“Mark Lee!! Dinner’s ready, honey”

Edges of sharp black sphere pointed slightly, the movement of his eyes tremble as it waters more than none after hearing the angelic voice. His mom’s voice. There was always a sense of guilt from the perspective of reckless teenagers whenever his mom’s voice appeared as he took another whiff.

“Coming!” He replied, throwing the used cigarettes as he runs down the stairs. He blinks a few times, the action brings enough confidence in him that it could be enough to hide those little red lines around his eyes due to the smoke. A facade of his usual toothy grin glued on his face almost automatically, his mom shrugged to no apprehension.

As the boy in his usual orange beanie sit down, his nostrils scarcely flared to the gradually spreading scent of burnt chicken and curry. He lazily chewed on his bottom lips out of habit, feeling the sudden urge to check the kitchen and see if his mom was cooking something worth longer consideration for him.

Yet, as the troubled boy yearned for standing up, a voice managed to stop him from doing so.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your mom’s a great cook”

It was soothing, to say the least. Not a breath to be wasted and not a vocal to be too assertive, it was a voice Mark never heard of. To say it was quite angelic, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a wrong word to describe it by. He threw a glance behind him, noticing a slightly tall woman leaning on the tone of the dining chair. He tilted his head, eyebrows perched to express the unrest feeling he has as he glance up and down at the unknown woman.

Oh, she was older.

“I’m Y/N, your new neighbor in town,” the woman announced softly. Perhaps, Mark was being too over-analyzing, or too questioning, or perhaps even, Mark was just being himself as he realizes the way her eyes glints under the dim dining light. How the hazel mixed colors match perfectly well with the color of his dining room. There was an unknown feeling of interest to know more, to dive more into the depth of something unknown. If it could be addicting, than perhaps the boy wouldn’t mind such distractions.

“I’m Mark.” He replied with a smile.

This time, a genuine one.

[lamourvae]

[10:58 am]

(warnings: morning after, Mark making stupid suggestive jokes, suggestive song inspo, a vine reference? (I had to))

You felt the bed shift as you woke up to the bright light in the room. Pulling a hand up to rub the sleep out of your eyes, you eventually turned on your side to look at your boyfriend who stared right back at you with wide eyes. In one hand was a bowl of cereal and the other held his phone which was softly playing music. 

“Did I wake you?” Mark asked you quietly, setting his phone down to run a hand through your bedhead.

You sighed sleepily, enjoying the comfort of his touch, “No, it’s okay.” 

He smiled at you softly, raising the volume of his music while he continued to eat his breakfast. You laid in bed to gather your bearings, going over what you had to do for the day, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead.

The song playing from Mark’s phone was a rap song he had been obsessed with and overplayed a few months ago. Mark hummed along whilst bobbing his head, occasionally rapping along. You finally sat up in bed, reaching for the discarded t-shirt at the end of the bed from the night before. 

Mark looked at you lovingly, taking in the sight of you in the morning- his favorite view. With your messy hair, imprints of the sheets on your cheek, and his favorite, your puffy cheeks. He tuned back into the song immediately letting out a laugh. 

You turned to look back at him with curious eyes wondering what was making him laugh. He reached for his phone, rewinding the song a few seconds and raising the volume even more so you could hear it too. 

The song played loudly, the voice reaching your ears so you could clearly hear, “You grabbin’ on my sheets and hittin’ notes like you Mariah.”

Mark laughed as you looked at him questioningly, “You were hitting notes like Mariah last night too.”

“God, Mark you are such a boy sometimes, how about I give you the concussion he was talking about earlier too?” You huffed, finally getting out of bed to make your way to the bathroom.

“You love me though! Hey, wait! He talks about getting head in that line, did you mean that too?” He asked, an excited lilt in his voice.

You popped your head out from the bathroom, meeting his expectant gaze with a glare. “You should really, really learn when to just keep your mouth shut sometimes, my love.”

“So no head?”

“No, Mark!”

-

A/N: Uh yeah so this was a little dumb but it was also fun to write! I can’t believe I haven’t written for Mark before despite him being my favorite man on the planet???? Anyway, enjoy, and the song if you’re interested is The Spins by Mac Miller

[lamourvae]

Nobody Else | ex! lee jeno

pairings: ex! lee jeno x fem! reader

wordcount: 2.2k words (9 min read)

warnings: mature content, non consensual peck/kiss, sorry no smut because dua lipa say NO in being friends with your ex lmao, past relationship, lack of dialogues, but more of jeno being regretful.

inspired by: Save Your Tears by The Weeknd 

A/N: This fic is throughly written in the purpose of self fulfillment. There is no means of portraying the mentioned names in this fic with the wrong way. All names and face claims return to their rightful owner; however, the story and plot are mine. Plagiarism is a crime, lovelies.

© littlesqoia, 2022.

“How many days have you been hiding under that fucking blanket?”

A flash of golden hues painfully cascading down, feeling the bright light traces the shape of your figure as an abrupt pull ensued at the end of your bed. At first, the flimsy blanket traces along your skin before it fell down onto the wooden floor. Knowing who would have dared to do such thing to you in early morning, you forced your head to look downwards. A short glare thrown at the suspect, you tried to ignore the light throbbing of muscles around your neck due to the sudden movement.

“Go away, I want to sleep” A sleepy haze all you felt as a sigh passed your parted lips. Feeling the sudden brush of air passing by, there was a floating thought of yours, the realization that the morning was indeed cold. You just never greeted the morning with one, it was always warm. You instinctively pulled both of your legs to your chest.

A chuckle was heard. Quite the familiar voice as you peeked at the person on the end of the bed, feigning one’s sleeping posture. 

“Nah, wouldn’t want you to be Patrick from Spongebob, darling. Now up up, c’mon.” The person voiced out, his presence warming the air slightly. Though, it wasn’t quite enough. Slowly, with mind hazing to the fact that it was your dear best friend, you couldn’t help feeling the muscles around your lips contorted into a soft smile. 

There was a certain poise and perhaps, with the help of his extremely heightened intuitive, he knew what you were thinking. Another low chuckle followed your silent mind, abruptly being forced to stop as you realize a pair of hand had gripped your ankles. Enthusiastically, so. 

“No! wait Haech-”

“Do you really think I would fall for that expression?” He replied, pulling your body to the end of the bed. The boy looked at you in silence for a second, the both of you letting his unreadable thoughts wander. He huffs out a breath as he watches your sunken expression.

“Look, I don’t like seeing you be sad like this. You’ve been crying non stop for two months since you broke up with him and now you’ve been hiding under that ugly ass blanket for days, Y/N? I’m worried.”

“Stop blanket shaming my blanket you ass” 

It wasn’t purposeful. Yet, the feeling of reassuring him with a simple joke couldn’t be erased from the back of your mind as you sent him a downcast smile. 

But then again, the boy was not stupid. Oh, Haechan was far from it. He bit his lips. It was not gentle, you would dare you could even feel the pain on yours, despite the far distance. Gently, painting the emotions with blue and a bit of hopeful white, he touches your hand. Replacing your gloomy smile with his bright ones. 

“Are you finally willing enough to let me help you?” Haechan asked, gentle tone slowly waking you up to your senses. “…how?” Your eyes glimmer back on him with a slight curiosity, knowing he was just as mischievous as he was caring. 

“Don’t think about it too much. Just dress sexy for tonight, yeah? I’ll pick you up at 9.”

Keep reading

[lamourvae]

Nobody Else | ex! lee jeno

pairings: ex! lee jeno x fem! reader

wordcount: 2.2k words (9 min read)

warnings: mature content, non consensual peck/kiss, sorry no smut because dua lipa say NO in being friends with your ex lmao, past relationship, lack of dialogues, but more of jeno being regretful.

inspired by: Save Your Tears by The Weeknd 

A/N: This fic is throughly written in the purpose of self fulfillment. There is no means of portraying the mentioned names in this fic with the wrong way. All names and face claims return to their rightful owner; however, the story and plot are mine. Plagiarism is a crime, lovelies.

© littlesqoia, 2022.

“How many days have you been hiding under that fucking blanket?”

A flash of golden hues painfully cascading down, feeling the bright light traces the shape of your figure as an abrupt pull ensued at the end of your bed. At first, the flimsy blanket traces along your skin before it fell down onto the wooden floor. Knowing who would have dared to do such thing to you in early morning, you forced your head to look downwards. A short glare thrown at the suspect, you tried to ignore the light throbbing of muscles around your neck due to the sudden movement.

“Go away, I want to sleep” A sleepy haze all you felt as a sigh passed your parted lips. Feeling the sudden brush of air passing by, there was a floating thought of yours, the realization that the morning was indeed cold. You just never greeted the morning with one, it was always warm. You instinctively pulled both of your legs to your chest.

A chuckle was heard. Quite the familiar voice as you peeked at the person on the end of the bed, feigning one’s sleeping posture. 

“Nah, wouldn’t want you to be Patrick from Spongebob, darling. Now up up, c’mon.” The person voiced out, his presence warming the air slightly. Though, it wasn’t quite enough. Slowly, with mind hazing to the fact that it was your dear best friend, you couldn’t help feeling the muscles around your lips contorted into a soft smile. 

There was a certain poise and perhaps, with the help of his extremely heightened intuitive, he knew what you were thinking. Another low chuckle followed your silent mind, abruptly being forced to stop as you realize a pair of hand had gripped your ankles. Enthusiastically, so. 

“No! wait Haech-”

“Do you really think I would fall for that expression?” He replied, pulling your body to the end of the bed. The boy looked at you in silence for a second, the both of you letting his unreadable thoughts wander. He huffs out a breath as he watches your sunken expression.

“Look, I don’t like seeing you be sad like this. You’ve been crying non stop for two months since you broke up with him and now you’ve been hiding under that ugly ass blanket for days, Y/N? I’m worried.”

“Stop blanket shaming my blanket you ass” 

It wasn’t purposeful. Yet, the feeling of reassuring him with a simple joke couldn’t be erased from the back of your mind as you sent him a downcast smile. 

But then again, the boy was not stupid. Oh, Haechan was far from it. He bit his lips. It was not gentle, you would dare you could even feel the pain on yours, despite the far distance. Gently, painting the emotions with blue and a bit of hopeful white, he touches your hand. Replacing your gloomy smile with his bright ones. 

“Are you finally willing enough to let me help you?” Haechan asked, gentle tone slowly waking you up to your senses. “…how?” Your eyes glimmer back on him with a slight curiosity, knowing he was just as mischievous as he was caring. 

“Don’t think about it too much. Just dress sexy for tonight, yeah? I’ll pick you up at 9.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Unfortunately to you, it was more of a statement. 

Hazel eyes of yours darted nervously to the left, and right. The left. Right. Left. Right. Left, and right. Beaded sweats emitted underneath the cold of your palms, fingertips trembling as you tightened the hold of the leathered material. It was too tight, pale red color slowly painting around the grasp of your hold. 

Fathoming the odd gesture, Haechan looked back at you. Untucking your hold to hold his hands. “Hey, you okay? Did I take you to the wrong place?” He slightly shouted, waking up your realization to the echoing beats in the background. Suddenly feeling the need to assure yourself of your surrounding, neon lights staring back at you. Movements maintaining its rhythm as you watch people began to sway their hips. 

Instantly, you felt nauseous. More sweats emitting from the palm of your skin. A heavy weight being tucked under the back of your neck as you felt pressure pulsating around your head. 

“It’s okay! I just need a bit of water” You replied back, the tone of your voice was unnoticed as the only thing being prominent in your mind was the need to taste clear pure water. Ignoring the gradually worrying expression of Haechan, you walk past him. Diving more into the ocean of unknown gestures, faces, breaths, and the tickle of ecstasy in the air. 

As you reached the bar stool, a heavy breath leaving your lips from the untold weight. Sitting on the stool, you let as the cold air grace your open skin around your neck, collarbones, and the depth of your chest. 

“A water, please” You uttered, trying not to be bothered by the overly high risk of the bartender not hearing your order. Though, despite all of the worries, it wasn’t much to think as you ignored it once again. There was a feeling of wanting to let go, letting all of your little insignificant anxieties to be buried underneath your free will. You weren’t used to it; however, burdening Haechan was never of your choice. 

Both hands laying flat on the desk, you let your head fall on top of it. The loosened hair slowly falling down, tracing every bit of your scalp. You sighed, feeling a bit odd. It was quite weird how you felt calm in a situation where calm wasn’t one to be described by. Perhaps, you had the skill to feign the hideous beat as your lullaby to sleep. 

Until, you felt something. 

A movement around you. No, it was more on you. 

It was too familiar. 

A slender hand gently tucking a strand of your hair to the back of your ears. You shuttered your eyes open, hiding beneath your overlapped hands. The hand’s size was bigger than yours, it looked almost calloused as if the person had quite a harder labor than yours — though you doubt it seeing how gentle it was with a single strand of your hair. Your eyes slightly caught the pumped muscles around his wrist, noticing the lines of the prominent veins as you gulped down. 

Have you seen this hand before, perhaps?

It was too recognizable, too accustomed for you to feel as you involuntarily leaned in to the touch. 

The unknown hand slowly moves to the top of your head. Gently moving forward and backward. Brushing the soft littered locks as you recognize the fast heartbeat of yours, as if it was trying to match the music’s beat in the background. Breathing in slowly, your nostrils flared slightly at the familiar sense of smell.

Again, have you smelt this cologne before?

Mind racing to thousand thoughts and memories. You would dare to confront the person in moment, yet there was an odd feeling of yours to feel submitted, to feel afraid. Afraid that this familiarity might be gone as soon as you caught it. As soon as you held it tight, what if it slowly disperse into little clouds of memories you ought to erase? 

Slowly, you moved your hands. The person stopped. Perhaps, noticing your abrupt  movement, this person has their own fears. Somehow, that thought alone was a bit comforting to you. You were both were afraid of underlaying stories between the exchange of simple gestures. 

“Here’s your water, ma’am” 

“Ah, excuse me? Can I ask for her bill? I would like to pay the water for her” You heard his voice.

Oh, It’s him. Isn’t it?

A beat of silence passes your ears as you felt your heartbeat was beating even faster than before, faster than normal. The sense of familiarity with a hint of the undeniably regretful longing was slowly waking up your senses. Abruptly hearing the very much familiar voice you’d spent months on forgetting was not as pleasant as you’d thought it would be. As he turned his head to the side, paying the water you had just ordered, there was a slight wanting of you to talk to him. 

Fuck it.

It wasn’t daring, it wasn’t brave. It was simply an impulsive intuitive of yours to talk to the boy that had been holding your opened heart for far too long for you to accept the fact. 

“I never asked you to pay it for me.” 

There was a moment of silence, Perhaps, his mind was battling the feeling of wanting to talk to you again, or it could be just the fact that he was doubting that it was indeed your voice that had talk to him. All and all, simply revolves around the thought of him being a bit too prestigious for your likings. All and all, simply revolves around the fact that this boy was just Lee Jeno. 

“Hm, I never asked you to recognize me as well, love” He replied, brushing past the fringes hanging loosely on top of his head. 

You didn’t answer. Rather, you chose not to. Hazel eyes of yours watching as he slowly tilted his head to the direction of you, creating little vibrations in the air as his eyes locked up with yours. Then again, maybe you were the only one feeling those odd vibrations. 

“What are you doing here, Jeno?” You bravely asked, cursing to yourself as you felt limp in your knees underneath his glances as he eyed you quite strangely. “It’s a public place, Y/N. I always go here whenever I’m feeling like it.” Jeno replied, his voice colder than usual. 

“Even when we were still a thing?”

Ah, shit. 

“You know that’s not the case on why we broke up, love” 

You cursed at yourself, feeling burdened by the heaviness of your tongue. There was a feeling of a strange addiction to him, to Lee Jeno in his usual leather jackets and stupid bad boy aesthetics wavering around him. There was no doubt that you were a victim of such. Always wanting to taste him, in the simplest way possible, whether that was teasing him, talking back to him, to just a simple eye contact of your warm hazel eyes to his dark blue ones.

This time, you hated how you act as if you were hurt by him. As if he just crumbled all of your world, when the boy himself is fully aware that at one point in the word “us”, in the story of you and him, he was once your world. 

“Sorry, my mind’s not clear right now.” You softly whispered, slowly taking the abandoned glass of water to your hold. 

He lets out a chuckle. “That used to be my brand” He jokes. A soft smile appearing at his sculpted face as you watch him closely. The darting eyes of you and him met. You knew he could read you perfectly, Jeno had always been able to. You never let him before, and yet this time you let yourself be like an open book for him. The sense of longing and perhaps, a bit of sadness showing through the little glimmering stars beneath your eyes. 

A heavy burden begin to throb underneath your lids as you felt heavy within his gaze. A tear almost slipped. Cutting the tension abruptly, you darted your attention somewhere along the dance floor. Jeno saw it. He saw it all. The boy however chooses to be silent. Hoping once again, the communication between passing air was enough to make you understand that he was sorry. An example of his bad habit. The lack of communication on his side. 

However, this time you weren’t prepared. You weren’t prepared to hear those clearly. To feel awed at his change.  

“I’m sorry for running away.”

It was short. 

You would even dare to scream back at him and ask “That’s it?!” or perhaps, even worse the wanting to scream at him with incoherent cursing words, “Fuck you, Lee Jeno you ass!!”

Yet, who knew those simple words coming out of Lee Jeno’s mouth would be so impactful. Letting the cold air embraces you tighter, you felt as if you’d wanted to die. Your knees buckled up to the feeling of wanting to be hold tightly, to feel safe underneath particular arms, the feeling of wanting to taste those familiarity of him, Jeno.  Instead, you just embrace the tightening throat as you let your tears fall thoroughly from beneath your eyelashes. 

Again, Jeno saw it all. 

He will always will.

This time, there was something unfamiliar. It wasn’t recognizable of him to do as you felt a sudden weight being burdened upon your shoulder. 

It was his leather jacket. 

The familiar hand creeped up behind your neck, holding the side of your face gently. He lets the warmness spread throughout your face as he leaned down. “Take care of yourself for me yeah? Okay, my love?” You were silent, feeling a weighted kiss being planted on the side of your cheeks. 

There was a short feeling of wetness right above his skin. Your tears greeted by a tear of another. it was as if he had been letting his own tears to communicate with yours. You didn’t dare to confront the reality. 

And so like the stubborn being that you are, as you felt him inching further and further away from you, the whispers of goodbye he’d been silently hoping was just a simple scenery of your back turned to him. Shutting him close from a chapter of your book with the remnants of him, still dearly held by you.

To say Lee Jeno was in pain, it wasn’t enough words to describe it by. 

© littlesqoia, 2022.

Thank you for reading!! feedback in any form would be appreciated ^^ (you don’t really have to haha) thank you for stopping by!! <3

[lamourvae]

[STATION : NCTLAB] MARK ’Child’

[lamourvae]

il ritratto di prometeo. ljn

22.3k words | lee jeno one shot [il ritratto di prometeo]

» genre: romance, fluff, cmbyn! au, angst, mutual-pining. 

since he was little, Jeno remembers his mother tying him with the cute nickname of Prometeo, or as his father liked to call him: Prometheus. Growing up, Jeno’s mother left him and he started dreading the name. It wasn’t so difficult to understand why Jeno and Prometeo were so similar, while the latter had stolen fire from the gods, Jeno was the fire itself. That very summer, when his father decides to bring Jeno with him in a little town in the northen of Italy, he finally seems to be able to extinguish that very fire that has been chewing his bones, in your waters. 

» warnings: mentions of anger issues, explicit language, mentions of death and cancer, mentions of smoking and drinking, very much sexual tension and nudity ; overall the story talks about falling in love in summer, so you know the deal. 

— disclaimer ➛ This is a work of fiction. I do not own famous character(s) such as idols and my writings are in no way meant to show these people’s real nature and/or offend them in any way. You can not copy or translate my writings without my permission.

Keep reading

[lamourvae]

really want to write something about jeno x reader for self fulfillment, but i’m still writing my markhyuck fic lmaoo

[lamourvae]

It’s Booked.

Bellboy!Mark Lee didn’t think his night shift could get worse when a pizza delivery boy!Haechan is too busy flirting with him instead of delivering an ordered pizza to the actual customer.

Preview

“You’re annoying the crap out of me”

“Oh really? by the way, want some pizza?”

“Huh? Look, the last time I checked, you’re the delivery boy, correct?”

“Yeah, so? you’re the bellboy.”

“Yes, and your point?”

“Well, I can give you a slice of pizza if you could get a room for the both of us tonight”

“Fuck off, haechan”

© littlesqoia, 2022.

Theme song | It’s Not Living (if it’s Not With You) - The 1975