neoangelic

[neoangelic]

ROOFTOP NIGHTS || JUNG JAEHYUN [drabble]

Rooftop nights were your favorite. It meant breathing in the fresh air. It meant seeing the stars. It meant breaking your landlord’s rules. It meant lying down next to an ice cold beer pressing your cheek. It meant him.

“Shit, Jung Jaehyun! That’s freezing.” you cringe, rubbing your cheek to create some semblance of heat after being attacked by your best friend. “I have hands. Give it to me like a normal person for once.”

Jaehyun laughs, already sounding a bit buzzed. “Never.” 

He sits down by your head, patting his lap. Like always, you move over and lie down Jaehyun’s thigh. The boy puts down the cans of alcohol (one already opened) and plays with your hair. You stare up at him and his flushed neck and face.

“You’re drunk already.”

“Yeah,” he giggles.

“You know, I’m getting real sick of this place. The people.” You say, closing your eyes. “I just want to leave it all behind.”

“Even me?”

“Oh, but never you.”

“Then…” Jaehyun picks a strand of hair out of your face. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” You peek at him. “Where?”

Jaehyun smiles. “Anywhere but here. Anywhere with you.”

Rooftop nights were your favorite. You didn’t feel like suffocating anymore. You didn’t have to drown yourself in alcohol to feel something. You know he was never serious, but you felt like, in an instant, you could go anywhere with Jaehyun. 

He was the only thing keeping you here.

[neoangelic]

someone tell me why jaehyun's album is the exact vibes for my fic (time to write again)

[neoangelic]

reblogging this as well because i hate "exes that hate each other" archetypes and dynamic relationships like these are so refreshing (however i made the reader come off more of an asshole than i thought... note: mark definitely took advantage of his situation to get his girl and wanted her while he could have her; which is also as immature as reader dating him even though she had deeper feelings for jjh because she thought jjh didnt like her and mark was her second choice so oh well;;;;BUT in the end they communicated and forgave each other so its all good! )

it would be very nice "if" you could please make a angst fluffy heartwarming with a 8, 36, 39. and like my birthday is tom on the 6th 😳. my bias is Jaehyun and Mark but i would kinda want Jae for this 😔✋. I loved your Johnny as the Royal Guard btw 😭💕

idk if its late but happy birthday!! If its crappy, that’s because it deleted itself after I made edits and also I was like given one day to do this so I hope its good enough. A 2 in 1 special I guess.

BIRTHDAY BREAKUPS || jung jaehyun ft. mark lee

summary: Mark has something to tell you on your birthday. You’ve been dumped, but it’s not as bad as you thought it would be. That’s because Mark Lee is very good at giving presents and Jung Jaehyun finally has the courage to tell you the truth.

“I’m never letting you go.”

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

“I can’t do this on my own.”

PAIRING: jaehyun x reader (f) | slight mark x reader

WORDCOUNT: 1,500 words (jesus)

TAGS: boyfriend!mark | ex-boyfriend!mark | breakup | angst | silver linings | sometimes friendship is greater than love | fluff | jaehyun kisses | birthday fic | college ??? au | jaehyun being the stupidest and kindest boy | I don’t remember the tags I put before it deleted itself |

“You’re breaking up with me?” Your voice cracks. Mark nods, bashful. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Happy birthday?”  He gives a weak smile. “You can keep my hoodies…if you want?”

“Mark. Are you joking or not? Pick one.”

Your now ex-boyfriend lets out a long sigh. “I’m moving to another country.”

“Can’t we can try to make it work—I can’t do this on my own.”

A beat.

“I know you love him,” he fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. “Jaehyun hyung.”

Keep reading

[neoangelic]

my tumblr posts had more rizz than me oh my god

[1:38 pm] It’s a slow night, and as you hand your Starbucks Frappuccino to the cashier with slender fingers and chipped nail polish, you lock eyes with the most beautiful person you’ve seen in your life.

“Is that phone number or credit?”

“Sorry?” You choke out.

He nearly drops the bottled coffee, face flushed pink. “I said–Is that cash or credit?” 

“Sure, I’ll give you my phone number…” you look at his nametag, pulling out your credit card. “Yuta, is it?”

“Sorry?” Yuta wipes his palms on his uniform polo. 

“I mean–Yeah…credit.”

Great, now you’re both blushing.

[neoangelic]

hi dreamies what if i told u im trying to make my epic comeback with the first chapter of this but im making this prologue more of a pilot, so if the direction/plot switches up a little...well its been a while (i dont remember what i fucking had planned + my writing has evolved since then!!!)

POETIC BEAUTY || page 1

PROLOGUE. 

🖊 SUMMARY: Jung Jaehyun never really appreciated poetry. Yu Hayoung appreciated his beauty with poetry. One day, those poems go missing.

🖊 PAIRING: jaehyun x f!oc

🖊 WORDCOUNT: 3,006 words (ish)

🖊 TAGS: college au | one-sided romance | pining | poetic beauty inspired au | lots of poetry | NCIT University au | Renjun and Doyoung are the best besties | astrophysics and art major Renjun | Comp sci major Doyoung | female presenting oc | racy undertones for some poems, nothing super sexual | cafe part-timer Jisung | secret admirer | no beta we die like men |

🖊 NOTE: i might have a bunch of fics that will tie into the NCIT universe. chapters will be called “pages.” all writing (poetry) is mine unless otherwise said. check below for a text post of the poem.

MASTERLIST | POEM (TEXT POST)

His muscles tensed the cloth of his white tee-shirt, the wrinkles contracting and drawing lines across his shoulder blades and down his spine like sinew. His arms stretched toward the ceiling, sleeves rolling back to show his biceps. Before I was caught staring, I averted my gaze onto the warm, freshly-printed paper in my hands. I couldn’t believe I wrote a poem about Jung Jaehyun’s birthday being on Valentines day when I’ve never even talked to him. What was worse was that it wasn’t my first time doing that either. I muttered a silent prayer to thank any god that was listening that I didn’t end up in the same peer review group as him. It would be more than embarrassing to discuss a poem I wrote about a hot guy with the hot guy himself. Of course, I would probably lie about the subject matter of the poem. That it wasn’t about Jaehyun and how irresistible I’ve been finding him for the past couple of months. That it wasn’t about how he was so perfect that even his birthday had to be stupidly romantic. Most definitely. It wasn’t like it was fully about him. Instead, I’d describe it akin to Achilles in the eyes of Patroclus. How someone so close to you could feel so far away—how Achilles was Greece’s hero more than Patroclus’s lover. About a longing, a satiation that could never be fulfilled.

Jung Jaehyun was radiant. His hair caught halos of light and his eyes sparkled like stars upon moving waters. I was just so-so. Someone who took English and writing classes for fun while others took it for the requirement. In fact, this would probably be the only class I’d ever have with him. After the semester, we would be as good as strangers. Not saying that I’d be forgetting that dimpled smile of his anytime soon. With about 200 other students in the heat-trapping lecture hall, I didn’t hold any expectations or try to act upon any of my feelings. I was merely being an opportunist in order to (in simple terms) write good shit.

“Should I talk to him for you?”

Kim Doyoung’s bright eyes and hushed tone pierced me like the morning rays through window blinds. “No, not at all. That would be horrible.”

Keep reading

[neoangelic]

[8:47pm] Taeyong adds your favorite songs to his Spotify playlists. Like a game of tag, you listen to songs that remind you of each other, hoping one of you would notice.

[neoangelic]

POETIC BEAUTY || (OLD VER)

PROLOGUE. (RETCONNED AS A PILOT)

🖊 SUMMARY: Jung Jaehyun never really appreciated poetry. Yu Hayoung appreciated his beauty with poetry. One day, those poems go missing.

🖊 PAIRING: jaehyun x f!oc

🖊 WORDCOUNT: 3,006 words (ish)

🖊 TAGS: college au | one-sided romance | pining | poetic beauty inspired au | lots of poetry | NCIT University au | Renjun and Doyoung are the best besties | astrophysics and art major Renjun | Comp sci major Doyoung | female presenting oc | racy undertones for some poems, nothing super sexual | cafe part-timer Jisung | secret admirer | no beta we die like men |

🖊 NOTE: i might have a bunch of fics that will tie into the NCIT universe. chapters will be called “pages.” all writing (poetry) is mine unless otherwise said. check below for a text post of the poem. EDIT: THIS IS NOT CANNON! REVAMPING THIS COMPLETELY 

MASTERLIST | POEM (TEXT POST)

His muscles tensed the cloth of his white tee-shirt, the wrinkles contracting and drawing lines across his shoulder blades and down his spine like sinew. His arms stretched toward the ceiling, sleeves rolling back to show his biceps. Before I was caught staring, I averted my gaze onto the warm, freshly-printed paper in my hands. I couldn’t believe I wrote a poem about Jung Jaehyun’s birthday being on Valentines day when I’ve never even talked to him. What was worse was that it wasn’t my first time doing that either. I muttered a silent prayer to thank any god that was listening that I didn't end up in the same peer review group as him. It would be more than embarrassing to discuss a poem I wrote about a hot guy with the hot guy himself. Of course, I would probably lie about the subject matter of the poem. That it wasn’t about Jaehyun and how irresistible I’ve been finding him for the past couple of months. That it wasn’t about how he was so perfect that even his birthday had to be stupidly romantic. Most definitely. It wasn’t like it was fully about him. Instead, I’d describe it akin to Achilles in the eyes of Patroclus. How someone so close to you could feel so far away—how Achilles was Greece’s hero more than Patroclus’s lover. About a longing, a satiation that could never be fulfilled.

Jung Jaehyun was radiant. His hair caught halos of light and his eyes sparkled like stars upon moving waters. I was just so-so. Someone who took English and writing classes for fun while others took it for the requirement. In fact, this would probably be the only class I’d ever have with him. After the semester, we would be as good as strangers. Not saying that I’d be forgetting that dimpled smile of his anytime soon. With about 200 other students in the heat-trapping lecture hall, I didn’t hold any expectations or try to act upon any of my feelings. I was merely being an opportunist in order to (in simple terms) write good shit.

“Should I talk to him for you?”

Kim Doyoung’s bright eyes and hushed tone pierced me like the morning rays through window blinds. “No, not at all. That would be horrible.”

“Horrible?” He said, leaning forward. “You’re like obsessed with him?”

“Okay,” I rolled my eyes. “Obsessed isn’t the word.”

“You write thirst poems about him.”

“Shut—” I glared, “they’re not necessarily about him! Just inspired by him. I’m not delusional, it’s not like I’m writing out my daydreams—he’s just—just a muse.”

“A muse,” he mused.

“Yes.”  

“But you agree that they’re thirst poems?”

“Just this one, and the prompt was ‘infatuation’ get over yourself.” I rolled my eyes, looking Doyoung up and down from his neatly combed hair to his converse sneakers. “Your shoes are untied.”

He kicked his feet underneath the graffiti-fied desk, looking under. “No they’re not.” Gottem. The boy blew air from his cheeks, exposing his bunny-like front teeth and sweaty forehead. His bangs fell down and stuck to the beads annoyingly. “You’re awful. I take it back, I’m not helping you no matter how much you ask.”

“Luckily, I’m not gonna,” I clicked my tongue, mouth dry. “But your hoodie string is uneven and it’s bothering me. Don’t look at me like that—I’m telling the truth this time! Fix it.”

Doyoung sighed, pulling at his hoodie string. “Where are the other kidos?”

“Dunno. Did you check the group chat?” I said.

"One person said they were at their second cousin's funeral, the other two said they had to celebrate their 100 days, and Renjun just slept in."

The first one was definitely a lie.

"Of course he did. I could never double major, especially in astrophysics—and what did he have yesterday? A 9pm lab class?"

Doyoung grimaced. “Horrible.”

“What was the point in coming to class if everyone was going to make excuses not to?” I slumped on the desk, running my fingers over the grain of the paper. “Did you even finish?”

He smiled, glasses without lenses lifting with his cheeks. “No?”

I swatted at him, “guess we’re just going to meet at a cafe again sometime this week.” It wasn’t a big deal. For me, it was more time to write whatever I wanted. For Doyoung it was more time for him to run his mouth about gossip, acting like we were actually discussing something about the class.

“So…”

“So what is it this time? I’m all ears,” I rummage through my messenger bag, feeling around for my writing journal’ s leather binds through folders and books and paper.

“So, I was talking to Taeyong the other day…”

My hands skimmed the canvas of my pencil case, and the pens strewn around lazily, and the tubes of lipstick. I brought out a pen with golden etchings that you’d twist to open.

“Oh, so you’re talking to him again?”

“I’m telling you, I swear to god it was him that touched my code at the club room.”

“Yeah, yeah…but you’re delusional, though? What if your code was just messed up from the start?”

“Are you going to listen or should I leave you alone?”

“I’m listening,” I searched pockets and zippers, bringing my bag up to my lap and peering into its void-like opening. I squinted, delving in once again in my search, looking for its red cover. It shouldn’t be hard to find. Everything else I owned was black or brown. Or white. Or grey (if it was a gift from Doyoung.)

“As I was saying, Taeyong and I were having a conversation, and we see Yuta—Yuta Nakamoto. He’s also in the sharehouse. So he has these tarot cards—”

My hands and eyes skimmed through surfaces. A book. A pencil case. Lipsticks. A wallet. Some wrappers of gum—oh, I still had some gum! And, finally, there should be… 

No fucking way.

“What?”

Did I say that out loud?

“Yes.” Doyoung said roughly. “And you keep interrupting my story.”

“Doyoung.” No fucking way. “I lost it.”

“Lost what? What did you—” his face dropped. “No fucking way!”

“Shut up!” I elbowed his side, glancing over at Jaehyun, who of course didn’t spare a glance back even with Doyoung’s ruckus. “I was at A Cup of Coffee earlier, studying, and lost track of time because I was enjoying my mint choco latte—”

“Enjoying a what?”

“I. Was. Feeling. Adventurous,” I glared, aggressively unzipping my jacket. I ran my hands through my dampened hair, hoping to find some solace of cool breeze on my skin. There was none to be found. Doyoung fanned himself with the collar of his ex-crisp white t-shirt. It was already a hot and humid day and it just got a lot warmer. “I had all my shit on the table because I was writing in the book earlier because you know that I have a deadline coming up for my anthology and I need to keep writing so that I can actually get something done. And I guess—I guess it fell out when I was rushing to pack and leave.”

“Were you sitting inside or outside?”

“Outside! There’s no room inside, like ever!”

“That’s as good as gone, then.” Doyoung knitted his eyebrows together, tapping his pen on the table. “It’s been a couple of hours, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, a good four.”

“Wanna still check?” He looked up at the clock hanging on the wall, its ticking hand teasing its way through the last minute of class time.

I looked at him as students began pooling out the lecture hall, leaving a trail of body-heat. “God, yes. Please.”

Doyoung and I rushed over as the mid-day sun glared into our eyes. We glared back through the gaps of our fingers as we covered our sweaty faces.  Jisung Park was always kind enough to give me free cookies whenever I stopped by A Cup of Coffee. (Which was often). Hopefully he was kind enough to have picked up my journal when I left it because there wasn’t much hope of finding my journal when we got there. All the outdoor seating arrangements were squeaky clean. The metal chairs burned our fingertips as we tried looking all over for my journal. I shook my head.

Doyoung groaned as he tried to open the front door, “I think it's closed.”

“I got this—” I rushed forward, banging on the glass, too hopped up on adrenaline to worry about it shattering. “Jisung! Are you in there? It’s Hayoung!”

I knocked louder as I spotted a head of blonde hair. Jisung stirred from his nap at the register. He rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the sudden intrusion of peace. Definitely tipping him extra the next time I have a writing session here. He looked at me with furrowed brows, pointing to himself as if to drowsily say: Me? What?

“Yes, you!” I pointed to the door. “Can we come in?”

Realization must have set in for him. It only took a few seconds for him to unlock the door and usher us inside.

“Hayoung sunbae-nim, whats wrong?”

“I left a really important notebook behind.” I fanned myself. “It’s red leather. It has pretty much all of my writing that I’m considering for my exhibition piece.”

“Have you seen it?” Doyoung sat down, accepting the water Jisung offered us.

“I think I have? You had it out when you were working out there earlier.” He said, carefully. “But I don’t think you left it behind.”

“But this is the only place I put it down.”

“I think you packed it up, there was nothing when I cleaned outside. I would’ve called.”

“I still can’t believe you lost your simp book, Hayoung.” Doyoung took a large gulp of water. “That’s the one thing you always make sure you don’t do.”

“I know! And it’s not a simp book!” I snatched my water bottle and plopped down next to him. Jisung pulled up a chair to sit with us. “It just so happens that the contents of my pieces are inspired by a very specific thing—”

“Someone—”

“Look.” Maybe it was the heat but the tips of my ears felt like they were on fire. My stomach felt as if it was boiling, each bubble of acid popping, burning my insides. I found it hard to steady my breath and my voice grew louder every second from the building pressure in my stomach. “It’s not my fault I entered a slump. I just—it just comes so naturally now—writing. It used to be so hard that I wanted to even quit, and it tore me apart every day. And my professors tore me apart too. It was so hard hearing them lose interest in my writing. And now that I’ve finally found a way to enjoy writing again, I get distracted for one day and lose what was going to be my life’s work!” I wanted to swallow the words back into my mouth. Everytime I tried, the lump in my throat grew larger.

“My god, Are you crying?” Doyoung leaned in.

I flinched, slapping his arm. “If you ask someone if they’re crying then of course they will.” I said, now crying.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll get you a tissue,” Jisung coughed.

“Thanks.” I said.

Doyoung rubbed my back. “You know I didn’t mean it. You’ve showed some of them to me, and I agree—this is the best you’ve written in ages. It might be important for you but I know you’ll do fine without it. It’s okay, Hayoung.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Look, I’m sure nobody likes to read. Anything. So, the chances are that someone will snoop through is low. They wont want to steal a journal either.”

“What if I can’t write without it.” I sniffled.

Jisung brought over a box of tissues and a cookie. “I don’t know fully what this is about, but you’re always in here to the point that I have to kick you out so I don’t work overtime and I’ve already given up on kicking you out over breaks.” He gave me an awkward but comforting pat on the shoulder. “I’ve never read anything you’ve written but I can tell that you work really hard on it, and I don’t think that’ll ever disappear.”

“Jisung is right. Even during your writer’s block, you still were able to come up with some profound shit that I could never think of writing in my lifetime.”

“Thanks you two,” I picked up the cookie, breaking it into pieces to offer. They declined. “And Jisung, you always make the best cookies.”

“The batter is pre-made, but I try.”

“Wait, really?” Doyoung said. “Wait, no—Hayoung, I’m sure we can find it if we keep looking.”

“But I haven’t begun to transfer the stuff over to my laptop.” I nibbled on my cookie. Doyoung’s phone buzzed on the table. I watched the crumbs on the plate dance around.

“I’ve seen you crunch out a thesis-length paper in a weekend with nothing but Mountain Dew and coffee. I’m sure you can work something out.” Doyoung picked up his phone.

“I’ll look and ask around on my breaks too,” Jisung said.

“Hayoung, Renjun wants to know if he can meet up with us right now.” Doyoung said.

I looked at our resident part-time cafe worker for permission, dabbing my eyes with the tissue he gave me. 

Jisung sighed, ready to pull up another chair. “Just this once.”

When Renjun arrived, Jisung was wrapping up his break, making sure there was enough coffee in the back and preparing the newly discovered pre-made batter to make more cookies. Renjun didn’t question why we were in A Cup of Coffee during its break hours, or why Doyoung and I were so sweaty that we were fanning each other with our poems that we were supposed to workshop. He didn’t question why I had my stuff sprawled everywhere because I tried looking in my bag another hundred times, or why Doyoung had his stuff everywhere because I had convinced him that my journal could have fallen in his bag somehow. He did, however, do a double take after seeing my face.

“Rough day today?” He said, taking Jisung’s old seat. “Wait. Were you crying?”

“Doyoung you didn’t tell me my makeup was running!” I gasped, rummaging through our table of paraphernalia for my makeup pouch.

Doyoung picked it up and passed it to me. “You looked like you were going through enough. Oops.”

I whined at my racoon-like visage in the mirror, mascara accentuating my already heavy eyebags. I thought it was supposed to be waterproof. Never buying that again. 

Renjun took out his laptop, decorated in stickers so colorful it looked like a toddler’s scrapbook. But like, in a good way. “Well, I think you look very artistic.” He said.

There was a long pause filled with his typing and the sound of the blender going off.

“Thank you,” I said once Jisung stopped blending. It smelt like cherries. You know what else smelt like cherry? Jung Jaehyun. Oh god, I didn’t even like cherries. “I’m going to die if I don’t find it.”

“Find what?” Renjun said.

“The notebook!”

He stopped typing, “The notebook?” Renjun took off his glasses. “No wonder you were crying. Doesn’t that have all you writing from this semester?”

“Yes, and it’s also all about Jung Jaehyun.” I confessed. I trusted Renjun. It wasn’t like he went to lecture that often.

“Jung Jaehyun from our class?” Renjun’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes, Jung Jaehyun from our class—granted most of them aren’t directly about him, but if someone finds out, it’s going to be so… awful!” I groaned. “I don’t know where I dropped it. I thought I left it here.”

“I mean, as someone who didn’t know it was all about him—really, all about him?”

“Inspired, but yes. Exclude a handful.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Renjun said. “But, I do have to ask…why? How? You like him?”

“It’s complicated.”

His laptop was fully closed now. I could tell he wanted to know the juicy details of my deep, dark secret. I could also tell that Doyoung was hiding a grin at the story to come. Renjun gave me his puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine.” I gave in. “’ll tell you, but why weren’t you at class today? I thought you always tried to attend mandatory workshops.”

“It’s complicated.” Renjun echoed.

“I'll tell you my story if you tell yours? Deal” I said.

“Deal.” Renjun said.

We looked over at Doyoung who was trying to listen into our conversation. Not that we were trying to be silent about it anyway. Jisung even came over and told us he could hold the shop cold for thirty more minutes so that we could finish our conversation.

“Why are you both staring at me like that?” Doyoung put his hands on his hips defensively. “Why?”

Renjun clicked his tongue. “If we both have something to tell, then you have to tell us…” 

“What happened to the blind date your mom set you up on, and how is that related to why you can’t go to our favorite bulgogi place anymore?” I slammed my hands on the table.

“I’m not going to tell you that!” Doyoung mirrored my action.

“Then leave, hyung!” Renjun said, backing me up. “It’s only fair.”

“But I know about Hayoung’s thingy about Jaehyun!”

“I’ll tell you how I first met him—And it wasn’t during poetry.” I blurted out. “That’s the real start of it all.”

Doyoung glared at both of us. He sat back down cautious, looking like a cat with its hair raised. “Fine.”

Renjun and I high fived. I looked over at Jisung, who was shaking his head at the whole situation. Poor thing, he was going to get to know all of us against his will.

“And Jisung gets to know all this for free if he gives us an hour, and we’ll help him at the back later until closing.”

Jisung shrugged. “Works for me.”

[neoangelic]

poetic beauty. | masterlist

➳ poetry and prose; page by page their story unfolds

『There is beauty in poetry—that, everyone knows. Well, at least people with taste did, and Jung Jaehyun never had the palate for poetry.』

Yu Hayoung is a literature major in the biggest slump of her life. In her poetry class, a boy by the name of Jung Jaehyun catches Yu Hayoung’s attention. The ‘he’s so pretty it hurts’ type of attention. The ‘never in a million years will he notice me’ type of attention. The ‘your beauty is so poetic I finally can fall in love with writing again’ type of attention. And the type of attention that has her so all-over the place that she loses her journal. Jung Jaehyun wasn’t supposed to pick up that journal, out of all people. Those poems were all about him, after all. He was never supposed to know she existed or that he existed to her as her muse.

➳ jaehyun x f.oc, romance, college au, NCIT universe, secret admirer, one-sided crush

➳ note: chapters will be called “pages.” all writing (poetry) is mine unless otherwise said

|| CHAPTER POSTERS ||

[read page one.]

[neoangelic]

ROOFTOP NIGHTS || JUNG JAEHYUN [drabble]

Rooftop nights were your favorite. It meant breathing in the fresh air. It meant seeing the stars. It meant breaking your landlord’s rules. It meant lying down next to an ice cold beer pressing your cheek. It meant him.

“Shit, Jung Jaehyun! That’s freezing.” you cringe, rubbing your cheek to create some semblance of heat after being attacked by your best friend. “I have hands. Give it to me like a normal person for once.”

Jaehyun laughs, already sounding a bit buzzed. “Never.” 

He sits down by your head, patting his lap. Like always, you move over and lie down Jaehyun’s thigh. The boy puts down the cans of alcohol (one already opened) and plays with your hair. You stare up at him and his flushed neck and face.

“You’re drunk already.”

“Yeah,” he giggles.

“You know, I’m getting real sick of this place. The people.” You say, closing your eyes. “I just want to leave it all behind.”

“Even me?”

“Oh, but never you.”

“Then…” Jaehyun picks a strand of hair out of your face. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” You peek at him. “Where?”

Jaehyun smiles. “Anywhere but here. Anywhere with you.”

Rooftop nights were your favorite. You didn’t feel like suffocating anymore. You didn’t have to drown yourself in alcohol to feel something. You know he was never serious, but you felt like, in an instant, you could go anywhere with Jaehyun. 

He was the only thing keeping you here.

[neoangelic]

this was also iconic

33 & 39 with Johnny please ?

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROYAL GUARD || johnny suh

summary: You are a princess of a kingdom at the borders of war. The king, Jaehyun, who is also your brother, decides to go to war with his own royal troops instead of keeping himself locked in the palace. This has never happened before. It means that Youngho, your brother’s guard and your target of affection, has to stand up against the most gruesome warriors of the world. You’re scared, but you know you shouldn’t. Youngho is the strongest man in the kingdom, after all. And he has a parting promise.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t do this on my own.”

PAIRING: johnny x reader (f)

WORDCOUNT: 1,129 words

TAGS: historical au | angst | fluff | prince!jaehyun | kickit!Johnny | royal guard!Johnny | he’s like Hak from yona of the dawn basically | princess! reader | mentions of violence and war | very yona of the dawn inspired |

Youngho holds you in his tentative gaze. Your teardrops reflect the sun like diamonds. He caresses them gently, letting them roll from his fingertips, down his hand. He ruminated this moment but nothing could prepare him for the reality of your broken self, shattering in his grasp.

“Don’t cry,” he says, barely above a whisper. A decibel higher, it felt like everything would disappear.

“Don’t go,” you knit your eyebrows together, mustering every ounce of anger in you. “You’ll die out there.” All you could feel was hopelessness.

“I need to protect the king,” Youngho doesn’t meet your eyes anymore. “I’m his right-hand, you know?”

“Why is—the king has never gone to battle before, though. That was why you took up the position here in the palace, right?” You clench his bandaged arms. “You were supposed to be safe here.”

“Jaehyun is a courageous king. This kingdom is on the cusp of war.”

“My brother is stupid. I tried to convince him not to go—he’ll die out there too!”

“You don’t know that.”

“The Ryu kingdom has some of the most fearsome warriors known to man, Youngho—we’ve always lost against them. We’ve lost countless areas of our land.”

“If we surrender, then our land will cease to be. I am this kingdom’s greatest asset.”

“But if he dies and if you die—I’ll have to be crowned queen,” your voice slips from your control, becoming tremulous. “I’d have to marry. Even if we do somehow come out victorious, I’ll probably have to be married off for many political reasons.”

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[neoangelic]

still one of my favorite things ive ever written

Midnight; mark lee

➳ You sneak off with your midnight boy, Mark Lee. He’s the cool biker-type frat boy from the infamous Nu Gamma Tau house but he’s different when you’re alone.

➳ frat boy! greaser! mark lee x reader (if greasers can be total DORKS) | college au | fluff

➳ note: requested by @leemarkmywords​ 5000 years ago im so sorry babe shit HAPPENED  but I pulled through and wrote it over the course of like six months. I’m sorry its short but i might write more on midnight!mark. Idk if this is soft enough aaaa.

➳ word count: 1730

If you could describe Mark Lee in one word, it would be midnight. He was everything and nothing all at once; the intersection of your dreams and reality. Midnight black hair, midnight black car that he couldn’t even drive, midnight air, and midnight summers. That was Mark. When you were with him, the sky was always a deep, somber blue. The city didn’t do justice for any stars at night, but the twinkling of his wonder-filled eyes was enough for you to gaze into. Midnight black leather jacket, midnight drinks, and midnight kisses—the stolen kind.

Keep reading

[neoangelic]

(i am currently writing a harry potter fanfiction where the mc is actually a non-archetypal Slytherin that still has to confine to its social intricacies so if you’re interested, i have that going on as well :))

[neoangelic]

[1:38 pm] It’s a slow night, and as you hand your Starbucks Frappuccino to the cashier with slender fingers and chipped nail polish, you lock eyes with the most beautiful person you’ve seen in your life.

“Is that phone number or credit?”

“Sorry?” You choke out.

He nearly drops the bottled coffee, face flushed pink. “I said--Is that cash or credit?” 

“Sure, I’ll give you my phone number...” you look at his nametag, pulling out your credit card. “Yuta, is it?”

“Sorry?” Yuta wipes his palms on his uniform polo. 

“I mean--Yeah...credit.”

Great, now you’re both blushing.

[neoangelic]

[3:03pm] Jeno says “I love you” for the very first time.

[neoangelic]

[10:43pm] Felix plays around while you study for finals. He whines about you not paying attention to him before you shut him up with a kiss.

[neoangelic]

[11:25am] Chani offers to help you hang the ornaments on the top of the Christmas tree, but he can’t reach them either. Rowoon swoops in, picking him up by his legs. 

“No–not like this!” Chani hides his embarrassed face under his sleeves

“So what if you’re dumb in front of your crush? It’s fine. You’ll take forever at this point.” 

“His what?” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Chani.”

“You’re just embarrassing me because you like her too!”

“I’m sorry–” you don’t understand the situation, “what?” 

[neoangelic]

Can you do 13 of fluff prompt with golcha bomin?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? || choi bomin

summary: Choi Bomin always asks if you believe in magic. He bothers you every day about it. Honestly, the gap between his good looks and his eccentricity is astounding. During a school trip, you two are paired to take a test of courage in the woods. You’re determined to push through till the end to get a prize but Bomin is a scaredy-cat and the seniors who are scaring you are less-than-forgiving. There is... also something weird about him? 

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

PAIRING: bomin x reader (f)

WORDCOUNT: 2,346 words

TAGS: bomin x reader | goldenchild the movie! bomin | fluff | beginnings of romance | sassy and competitive reader | socially awkward! bomin | high school au | horror/thriller (?) | mentions of other members | cute scaredy-cat baby! bomin | crying bomin which i love the most ;;

Choi Bomin was a stalker. He’d follow you around like a lost puppy and act like he wasn’t. He’d bump into you in the hallways and flash a smile like he didn’t plan it. He’d show up to the restaurants you visit after school and he’d blame it on having ‘similar tastes’. No, he didn’t have any malicious intent. No, he wasn’t madly in love with you. No, you weren’t popular enough for a guy like him to like you. 

He incessantly wanted you to admit you believed in magic.

Did you? Duh. Yes.

But you didn’t want to tell Bomin that. Not with the way he cheekily brought it up in every conversation. Or with how he ‘dropped’ his pencil and asked you to pick it up and instead of saying ‘thank you’ he said—

“So, you do believe in magic, right?” 

Bomin’s eyes twinkled, a grin etched onto his boyish face. It took you a while to muster enough courage to turn down such a look, but your rejection wasn’t far from usual.

“Why do you keep asking me this?” It was a shame you two were partnered for the school retreat. “Pay attention, will you? I’m not losing prize money because of you.” Not really, though. Unlike his popular ulzzang stereotype, Bomin was actually quite studious. So not only did the students love him but so did the teachers. It seemed that everyone liked him—except for you.

“Everyone, I’m sure you’re all excited for me to announce the first event that will kick off our retreat…the one and only, most challenging, most enticing and exciting—”  

“Don’t say that,” he whined. “I’m a great partner. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Really?”

Bomin noded, hair falling into his face. “All you have to do is tell me if you belie—”

“ — test of courage! Now, we’ll pass out some flashlights and your hint to get to the end. There are hints along the way as well, and there are multiple paths to take. For safety, you will be given flares. Use those if you wish to drop out. Be safe please, we don’t want a repeat of last year.”

You watch as Bomin’s grin morphs into a grimace of terror. “You ready, golden boy?”

He gulps, “what?”

“You told me you were going to do whatever I say.” You shoved the flashlight you were given into his chest. Bomin fumbled to catch it. “You’re on flashlight duty.”

“So…I’m walking in front?”

“Is that a problem? I’ll be figuring out the clue and navigating.” You cross your arms. “Unless you want to be the one looking around to find the right way to go.”

Bomin switches the flashlight on. “Nevermind that. What happened last year?”

“Teachers won’t tell us. They say a student wandered in the woods too far and never came back. Some just say he dropped out of school because he was too traumatized from bumping into a ghost.” Or he just fell since he didn’t listen to the teacher’s instructions and broke his leg and his parents complained and unenrolled him—nah, you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Oh.” Bomin’s face went pale.

For all those times he’s teased you, you finally are able to mess with him back.

You didn’t take Choi Bomin for a coward. Despite all the rumors circling around that he’s even scared of tripping on cables, you didn’t believe it. You see now why people believed it to be true.

___

“I think we’re lost.”

“Don’t play around with me—” Bomin whined, tugging on your sleeve. He was walking so close to you that his body heat was enough to give you relief from the frigid evening air. “We’re going the right way.”

“We’ve been going in circles.” You frown and give him a nudge. To which he jumps at. “Stop breathing down my neck. I think someone planted a fake hint earlier to prank anyone who came by it. Which was, unfortunately, us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“No, it’s not.”

“So is your arm.” You sigh. “I’m so glad I’m not scared of the dark or we’d both be in trouble. Now that I know you’re scared of everything, I just hope a murderer doesn’t come out or something. That scares me.”

“Don’t say that!” Bomin chides.

“See? You won’t be able to protect me. You’d run away yoursel—” You hear a crunch.

Bomin clutches your arm this time. “What was that?”

“We’re probably stepping on some dried leaves.”

“That sounded like a lot more than dried leaves.”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. For the first time, you notice the tears welling in his eyes and the redness of his cheeks and nose. He sniffles. You sigh for the millionth time. “Do you want to use the flare?”

Bomin shakes his head. “You want the prize, right?”

“I mean, yeah—I’m broke. But that’s beside the point. I don’t want you to cry!”

“I’m okay. I promised you that I’d be the best partner ever, right?” Bomin forces a smile. “If we get through this just tell me if you believe in magic or not.”

“Sure,” you raise your eyebrow. “But if you want to stop, the flare is with you. I have no qualms with it. As much as I find you annoying, I don’t think I should subject you to torture. That would be bullying, and I’m not that bad of a person. If you’d like, you can continue clinging to my arm— ”

Bomin blushes even harder. “Sorry,” he says but makes no effort to let go.

“Really? You’re embarrassed now? I’ve seen you scream because of a rock’s shadow.” You chuckle. He manages to break a real smile at that. “It’s kind of cute, so I’ll let it go.”

“You think I’m cute—” Footsteps. The crunching from earlier is now the more recognizable sound of footsteps. Bomin licks his lips as they’re drained of its color. His eyes go wide and his breathing becomes eerily still. “________, Don’t turn around.” Bomin tries to pull you into his chest to restrain your vision, but you whip your head around too fast and catch sight of the glint of a large butcher knife. 

Your scream is caught in your throat as a tall figure emerges from the trees. A masked man in all black clothing stalks toward you with no sign of stopping. Your legs give out when the stranger laughs and raises his weapon even higher. As Bomin holds you up, you clumsily take the flare out of your pocket. The man lunges forward and you let out a squeak, flinching. Bomin cries out but instead of running away like he usually does, he drags you back behind him. The flare drops and rolls away a couple feet from the both of you.

“Bomin—we should run.”

As you say that, the sound of a revving motor picks up behind your ears—a motor? No. A chainsaw. “W—what was that?” Bomin’s voice is so low you can barely hear him. You have no idea how he’s standing his ground when running into a spider web managed to render him prone twenty minutes ago. 

“T—there’s another psychopath behind me and I think he has a chainsaw.” You’re about to cry. “God, why did they take away our phones?” 

Bomin reaches behind him to keep you close to his back. He takes a shaky breath. The two men look like they’re ready to attack.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” Bomin shuts his eyes tight as he holds up his hands at the two. “I didn’t want to do this but—”

Howling laughter. “Dude, what are you doing?” Man with the knife takes off his mask to reveal a grinning Donghyun. “You’re aiming at us with your eyes closed? And with what? Your palms?”

“Were you planning to shoot lasers with your fingers?” The whirring of the chainsaw stops and Jangjun steps out from the dark. “You guys are too cute—wow, you’re so cool Bominie. Look at you, protecting your girlfriend!” Your senior grins.

Bomin collapses onto the ground before you do, “ah, Hyung. You’re so mean! Never do that again.”

“Sorry ___, we wanted to scare our cutie, not you.” Jangjun drops his prop and helps you up. Your legs still feel shaky from the adrenaline.

“Not that you aren’t cute too,” Donghyun chimes. “But we didn’t expect Bomin to step up like that—hey is he crying?” 

You wipe the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, “that was not funny!” You crouch down next to your bawling partner. “He’s cute when he gets scared, not when he thinks he’s going to die! Or when I think I’m going to die.” You try to soothe him.

“Oh…we feel really bad,” Jangjun doesn’t know how to handle the situation for a moment. He locks eyes with Donghyun. “We’ll lead you back and tell the teachers.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Donghyun ruffles Bomin’s hair. “You did well. Sorry for making fun of you, big baby.”

“I—I’m not a baby,” Bomin sniffles, composing himself.

“Sunbaenim. Next time, dress up as ghosts or monsters. Don’t look like mass murderers.”

“Don’t be mad at us ______,” The oldest gives you a guilty look. “We just wanted you guys to have some fun.”

You didn’t take their excuses. You were already mad. “Okay. Just lead us back.”

Donghyun hands Bomin a handkerchief. “I didn’t know you two got along so well, though.”

“Choi Bomin.” You whisper, holding onto his arm. “We’re going back now, okay?”

He nods, clinging onto you.

Jangjun tries to lighten the mood by using his chainsaw like an airport marshaller would use a lightstick. “Please watch your step, we’re setting off this way!”

Donghyun nudges him with a shush. “She’s mad let’s just stay quiet while we walk.”

“R—right.”

____

The teachers spent nearly an hour yelling at the two seniors. You and Bomin watch as Jangjun and Donghyun kneel outside your tent with their arms shaking in the air. Their wails of apologies trail off in the background, the students who’ve returned from the test of courage stare at them strangely.

Some of them are by the crackling fire and some of them are running around with their own group of friends. You see Seungyoon and Joochan sing ballads with a guitar and a gathering crowd. Daeyeol, the senior class president, is supervising Jibeom, Youngtaek, Seungmin, and Jaehyun as they play a rowdy game of catch with their frisbee.

“You don’t want to go out and join your friends?” 

Bomin looks pitiful, wrapped in a large blanket, and holding a steaming tumbler of coffee in his hands. “I think I’ll stay here for a bit.”

“You said a bit thirty minutes ago.”

“Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you found me annoying.” 

You couldn’t debate that. “Yeah, but a bit less now.” 

Bomin cracks a smile and rubs his still pink nose. He tries to ignore Jibeom’s piercing laughs as Youngtaek runs after the thrown frisbee.

“I’m sorry we didn’t make it.” He puts down his drink. “And I even promised I was the best partner ever. Ugh.” The way his eyes and nose crinkle with his grimace reminds you of a bunny rabbit. 

“It’s okay. I got scared too—those idiots were at fault. I plan to threaten them later and extort some money anyways.”

“You sound like a gangster.” Bomin’s eyes follow his Daeyeol hyung’s frantic figure running to catch the frisbee as well. Wait—wasn’t he just the referee? 

“I didn’t expect you to stand up against them like that—if those were real murderers you probably would’ve saved us. Maybe you are a real tough guy, after all.” You clear your throat and try to rack your brain. How should you bring this up? “I just wanted to say… about our promise. I don’t really know why you’ve been constantly pestering me about this but I do believe in—” 

“ ______! Bomin! Look out,” Youngtaek screams as he trips over his own feet, face planting onto the ground.

For a split second, you think that the red disc is about to hit you square in the face with its speed. Cursing Jaehyun’s athleticism and strong aim, you barely have enough time to react and flinch. Then, the frisbee comes to an abrupt stop right in front of your face right before Bomin leans over and catches it.

“Got you.” He smiles wide, gums showing. Bomin sheds his blanket like a snake with its skin and stands to reprimand his hyungs once again. “You’re lucky I caught it before it hit her!”

“Ooo, Bomin nice catch!”

“Jibeom this isn’t a time to give him a thumbs up! I’ll have to confiscate the frisbee—someone get Tag to the nurse for god’s sake.” Daeyeol stomps over to Bomin. “Thanks for catching it in time.”

You’re confused, “but—”

The two boys look back at you. “What’s wrong, did you get hurt?” Daeyeol takes the death device from Bomin.

But he didn’t catch it. You didn’t see him touch the frisbee to stop it. “Bomin—”

“Ah, hyung.” Bomin interjects. “I’ll help Tag hyung out while you yell at the others.”

Daeyol nods with a “Thank you” and does as the younger said he would. You see the guilty faces of your seniors once again as they mouth an apology from afar. You turn you eyes to Bomin, who speaks.

“Sorry, ____. I’ll come back after dealing with this.”

“But—”

The black-haired boy looks over his shoulder and winks. “I know what you were going to say earlier, don’t worry.” He smirks ever so slightly while placing a slender finger over his lips. “That was a little secret between us, got it?”

“W—what was?” Your heart beats fast and you could hear the blood rushing through your ears. You beg him to stay with those words, to explain what he meant. Did he really catch that frisbee? Did you actually see it stop in the middle of the air all of a sudden? Was he saying that he did that? 

Bomin laughs as the campfire roars behind him, casting his figure aglow in warm light. He looked almost— “the magic I did, silly.”—magical.