#i also saw the blind bag coin purses and damn. if i had had a coupon or something i would have gotten one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

applejongho · 3 years

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cherry on top | choi jongho

genre: fluff, realistic fiction, humor

character: starbucks employee!jongho

description: Jongho has an interesting run-in with a Karen during his shift at Starbucks.

word count: 2k

warnings: mild swearing

author’s note: jongho as a coffee barista was swimming in my mind for quite some time, so here he is.

masterlist here!

There was something about that coffee stain on Jongho's employee shirt that made it impossible to get rid of. It was likely the mix of the ingredients that had stacked the receipt when it was printed, but Jongho couldn't help but feel she had somehow planned this as he scrubbed harder with bleach.

Jongho wouldn't have guessed the day to turn out as it did, but maybe he should have. Working with the public was always a gamble, but Jongho's optimism blinded him. Most customers were nice enough. Most customers gave a smile when he handed them their overpriced coffee. There weren't too many comments about his red and black hair, and he could shrug off all of them. The compliments were what he remembered.

The day started off normally - with Jongho's coworkers nudging him towards the mound of bagged coffee beans. "I could do it myself, but you just do it quicker, you know?" One of his coworkers had whined, twirling a piece of curly hair around her finger. "It" was picking up the bags of coffee beans to put into the grinder, and Jongho didn't mind it. As he slung a bag over his shoulder with ease and glanced at her, he could swear her face flushed. Perhaps it was just the sun. The sun hit her face like that when he broke apples in half with his bare hands too. It was strange how the universe liked her like that.

After his bean tasks, Jongho took to the drive-thru of the coffee shop. He was told he had a nice voice, but he doubted he sounded that heavenly through a cheap speaker that hadn't been changed for five years. Nonetheless, Jongho enjoyed doing the drive-thru and taking orders. When there were multiple drive-thru lanes open, he would challenge his coworkers to see who could get through orders the fastest. This caused him and his coworkers to resent vans - vans almost always meant there was a large order - a sure loss, unless Jongho's fingers could learn to dance very quickly on the ordering screen.

Taking orders via the drive thru took up his morning, and then he was released for his lunch break. His coworkers had become accustomed to bringing him apples for the sole purpose of him to break them. He didn't mind, and it allowed him to be more comfortable with his coworkers because he could sometimes be shy. "Is that why part of your hair is red?" A coworker had asked him one day after he had broken multiple apples in a row. Jongho shook his head.

"No. Just red," he shrugged, ignoring his coworker's eyebrow raise. "I just like the color red." He thought he looked good with it.

But not everyone agreed - there were some customers that liked to point it out, like he had never seen himself in a reflection before. "You missed the roots," an older woman had told him at the register and gestured to his hair. Jongho added fifty cents to her order.

But for this day in particular, his hair was the reason for his downfall. For the latter half of the day, Jongho would be at the register. He yearned to be in the bar making drinks because it could become so mindless at points, but he was placed in front of the register before he could say anything. He assumed it was because he was the longest working employee out of the staff today, and Jongho vaguely remembered a newbie was working with him. He guessed the manager didn't want them at the register. The register wasn't much different than the drive thru, but there was something about actually seeing the customer or touching their cash or credit card that made it not enjoyable for Jongho.

About an hour into working at the register, Karen walked in. Jongho saw her and his stomach dropped. She looked exactly like a Karen should look: bobbed blonde hair with caramel highlights that were too dark, opaque and round sunglasses, an obnoxiously pink phone case, and a tacky red American flag shirt that said something about how America was blessed. Jongho knew he shouldn't judge people so quickly, but he had dealt with this breed of women before. He had to brace himself for the worst and the unexpected.

"Hello, ma'am," he said cheerfully when Karen got to the front of the line. Her dark sunglasses obscured her eyes, but she was clearly paying attention to her phone instead of him. She suddenly realized she was in Starbucks and lifted up her glasses. She took one look at Jongho's name tag.

"Hello, John," she said, and Jongho had to bite his tongue to keep from making a noise.

"Jongho," he said.

"John," she continued, and listed off her order, Jongho begrudgingly typing it in as she spoke. It's not that hard of a name, he thought to himself as he kept typing. Why was Karen's order so long? Jongho kept translating her vegan, dairy-free, blood-of-firstborn, extra-expresso venti iced coffee into the system until she stopped talking, and even then she wasn't done.

"So is everyone your age just dying their hair like that?" Karen said without prologue. "I'd never let my kid dye their hair like that. It's so unprofessional."

"Thank you," Jongho said, dodging the question and not wanting to provoke her. He hoped his cheeks weren't also red. "Here's your total. Cash or credit?"

Karen pulled out her purse, but not without clicking her tongue in annoyance. "You all really should lower the prices. It's too damn expensive."

Then make your own, Jongho wanted to reply, but he held his tongue. "I wish I could," he said with a smile. Karen frowned in return, and, without warning, dumped her entire coin bag onto the counter. Jongho yelped and scrambled to keep flying pennies and quarters from rolling off of the counter. In the corner of his eye, a coworker ogled Karen.

"I used the bills to buy my groceries, so I'll pay in coins," Karen yawned while Jongho threw himself onto the floor to make sure no coins had reached there. He got up, plastering on a fake smile. He hadn't had a customer like this in a long time, but if he could just get through her, everything would be okay. He reached for her quarters first and began counting dollars. He knew for a fact that his manager wouldn't have tolerated this kind of behavior from a customer, but Jongho knew he could be too soft at times. Besides, her jangling keys on her wrist glimmered and showed off their sharpness. He swore he saw her teeth glimmer as well.

"Hurry up," Karen said after a few seconds. "Count faster."

Jongho considered shoving pennies into her eyes. "Certainly," he said, and tried to pick up his pace. He could feel her eyes burning on his neck as he shoved the change into the cash register. He pushed her receipt over to her and eagerly began with the customer behind her, glad to be ridden of her.

But his escape was short lived. He heard a whine from the corner of the store and knew it was the Karen immediately. He was currently helping out a different customer, but there was no one else in line behind them. He'd deal with it after the customer if things escalated with Karen.

"Are you sure you made this correctly?" Karen snarled at Jongho's coworker, her nostrils flailing. The coworker looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. "This doesn't taste like how it usually does. Make it again."

Jongho wouldn't have done anything - customers asked for drinks to be remade frequently. But this was Karen, and upon further inspection, this was the new employee that his manager had talked about. He couldn't leave her hanging, it would be rude as an older and more experienced employee. Jongho finished ringing up the final customer and went over to Karen and the other coworker.

"Cherry head," Karen growled, and Jongho only raised his eyebrows. That was a new one.

"I'll make a new one, ma'am, sorry," he said, taking the drink from her. "I'm sure you were fine," he muttered to the worried coworker and was pleased to see her smile.

Iced coffee wasn't difficult, and with the lack of new customers Jongho took the time to make sure the drink was entirely accurate. It's not that she deserved a drink, it's that he wanted her out of the store as soon as possible. He even had the temperature right, and gave it a perfect dairy-free whipped cream swirl at the top before handing it back to her.

Karen ogled the drink for a moment, looking back and forth at the cup and Jongho. Then she threw the drink at him.

The whipped cream top hit Jongho square in the face and he could taste it. Then came the slow and cold trickle of the coffee down his apron and shirt underneath, and at that moment, he was so glad she hadn't ordered anything hot.

"I said I didn't want whipped cream!" Karen bellowed, but Jongho's choir practice had made him desensitized to loud vocals. He wiped the whipped cream from his face and looked at Karen straight in the eyes.

"Get out," he said coldly. "There's a Dunkin across the parking lot. They can have your coins." He paused for a moment, and then his mouth twitched upward. "My name is John, you can write me up if you want. I don't care."

"I will be," Karen growled, red-faced and clutching her purse at her side like Jongho was going to reach out and nab it. he couldn't believe Karen thought that she was the victim here when Jongho had a new fluffy white beard adorning his face.

"John's right," a third coworker said, coming from behind. He could vaguely hear his laugh under his voice. "We don't tolerate harassment on our employees. You're the one that could end up in trouble."

Karen stared daggers at this new employee, and Jongho was surprised she didn't jump over the counter to tackle him. "Good riddance, I knew Starbucks was going downhill anyway." She gave one last snarl at Jongho, who fluffed up his hair at her glance, before walking out of the Starbucks.

The three employees were silent, and then Jongho felt a towel touch his arm. "Oh my God, Jongho, I'm sorry," the third coworker said.

"I don't think I've ever been drenched quite as much as I am now," he said, accepting the towel. He began to dry himself off as best he could, but he knew his face and clothes were going to be sticky for the remainder of the shift.

"I think there's another apron in the back," the new coworker said, and then scurried off to get it before Jongho could say anything.

"I'm just glad it wasn't her that got absolutely wrecked by coffee," the other coworker murmured. "I think she might have cried."

Jongho nodded, still drying himself off. It was a terrible feeling, the coffee all over his skin and clothes, but now that she was gone, he couldn't help but smile. It was comical, how insane the public could be. "I hope John gets hell for what he did," he smiled.

"Absolutely," the coworker agreed, laughing. The new coworker arrived back with the apron, which Jongho gratefully took.

"Give me a minute to clean up," he told the both of them before going to the back to inspect the wreckage on his clothes and face. It could have been better, but it also could have been worse. He licked a part of the whipped cream that was near his lips and grimaced at the flavor. Despite it all, Jongho was amused at the situation. It kept him on his toes. It would be a funny story to share at a party. Jongho wrote a note in his phone to re-dye his red tips when he got home. Then, smiling, he returned to work.

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joonsgalaxy · 6 years

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you know how to make a boy feel warm

Pairing: Woozi/Jihoon x Reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers AU, (soft)badboy!Jihoon

Word count: 4,3 k

Warnings: mentions of blood

Prompt: “Wha-what are you doing in my apartment?!” “Testing your security, which is absolutely horrible considering it’s 2 AM and your door was unlocked. You should also invest in an alarm if you don’t want psychopaths breaking in.” “You mean like you?” “My sanity is fine, unlike yours, you unsafe idiot.”

Author’s note: i’m multifandom af, and woozi owns a huge part of my heart so here you go :>

'Ouch! Fuck…'

This wasn't the greatest moment of Jihoon's life, he was aware of that, but, frankly, he would pick bumping his knee into a leg of your table over getting beaten up until all he could see was red any day.

It was fairly dark in your kitchen; only the faint light of the Moon was cutting through the window as Jihoon tried to get adjusted to make out the edges of furniture, for he couldn't afford himself another loud mistake. One of his palms landed on the surface of your counter, fingers of the other hand clutching the handle of your drawer. As slowly as possible and as quietly as he could manage he pulled the drawer toward his slumped form to reveal its shadowed contents. While he was rummaging through the stuff, looking for a certain one-a first aid kit, or at least a band-aid, something like that, anything like that-he felt a sharp and deep twinge somewhere above his right temple. It was the adrenaline diminishing its delicious amounts in his blood stream, he figured, and his brains finally receiving the signals of his nerves that something's wrong. He didn’t feel it while running here, his mind was just too fizzy for that. Good thing he at least managed to regain his composure after the hit to slip out of the fight right when his opponents got distracted by the booming sound in the distance. It had to be his lucky day-or rather night-for he was sure he’d be lying on the pavement now with a blurry sight of the three men’s feet sauntering away from him.

His fingers moved deliberately, silently. Ha, just imagine you jolting awake because of this, finding him riffling through your drawer in the middle of the night. Oh, what a crazy life he was living, full of risks and hazard-the things that made him feel truly alive.

He felt warm there, too warm actually. His thick jacket was practically suffocating him as the tiny flakes of snow hovered in the still air behind your kitchen window. A heavy sigh slipped from between his tingling lips, the left corner of the lower one sore and tasting like coins. Where’s the damned band-aid package?

‘I have a gun.’

Jihoon’s ears perked up at that; the voice was shaky, yet he could hear forced determination in it. His digits halted immediately, fingertips stopping at some hard, round object-a duct-tape? Anyway, who cares? You’re there, and you’re awake, and… you have a gun?

‘A-And I called the police.’

Jihoon’s eyes widened, heart pace quickening until it started pounding in his ears. He turned around, hastily, which wasn’t the best decision if you think about it, but he didn’t give much thought to it as he exclaimed, ‘You did what?’

The shadow silhouette in the doorframe, which he figured was you, didn’t move, simply stood there in silence until Jihoon began to wonder if it all was just some kind of an elaborate hallucination. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, his continuous thoughts of you finally driving him insane to a point where he sees you in the void shadows casted by the moonlight, hears your voice in the silence of the dancing snowflakes on the other side of the window, picks up the words supposedly uttered by you in the friction of his jacket when he moves. Whatever it was-his imagination, or the actual reality-he heard it again, except it was a whisper this time, holding some confusion, irritation and certainly at least some fear within itself.

‘The fuck…?’

It had to be you, the real you. No way in this universe could his mind conjure up such softness of your whisper like that. God, even such a hellish word sounds angelic when coming from your lips; they must be delicate like feathers of the majestic wings that angels cherish so much, and there’s nothing else that he wants more than to be lucky enough to know how they would feel against his skin.

‘It’s me,’ he uttered and added, just in case, ‘Jihoon.’

A second of more silence later, he heard the shuffling of your feet, the fluffy socks (that you loved to sleep with in the winter) against the hard floor. He observed your shape moving a couple of steps by the wall and then-

Click.

The sudden brightness was too much for Jihoon’s eyes; he blinked a few times, squinting, trying to adjust to the change, your illuminated frame coming into his sight. Dishevelled hair, sleepy yet wide in shock eyes, baby blue pyjamas with tiny red tomatoes-or apples, it was hard to tell-and red woolly socks that complimented the fruits scattered in the sky blue, oh and a hairbrush tightly clutched in one hand, not in a threatening way, though.

‘Wha-what are you doing in my apartment?’

Why do you have to look so pretty?

‘Testing your security,’ Jihoon began explaining his lame justification for being there, trying to appear unaffected, that was a hell of a challenge, though, what with all the warmth caged between his winter jacket and his flaming body, and with your eyes staring at him, wide and deep like oceans that a man could slip into with no way out. ‘Which is absolutely horrible, considering it’s 2 AM and your door was unlocked. You should also invest in an alarm if you don’t want psychopaths breaking in.’

Your mouth fell open at the mention of unlocked door and stayed agape until it was your time to speak, to retort with growing confidence. ‘You mean like you?’

‘My sanity is fine,’ Jihoon declared, unzipping his jacket, ‘Unlike yours, you unsafe idiot.’ The thought of someone actually breaking into your apartment made his stomach sink; he made a mental note to himself to check up on you more often. ‘And is that your gun?’ He gestured toward the hairbrush, which could probably do some damage to intruder’s skull if you knew how to properly use it in such case, but he doubted you took a class of How To Knock Out A Burglar With Things You Find On Your Nightstand. Yet again Jihoon made a mental note to teach you how to fight, or more precisely defend yourself.

You glance down at the hairbrush, pursing your lips and stepping to the table to place the brush down. ‘Well, that’s all I could grab before rushing here to see who the fuck is ruffling through my stuff.’ Your hand came up on your hip and your words were laced with obvious accusation, which hit him with the realization that once again he fucked up.

‘I’m sorry.’

You heaved a sigh, the one of I’m-kinda-used-to-it-by-now-I-guess, which squeezed Jihoon’s heart. He truly did feel remorse, albeit he perhaps never knew how to properly convey it. But wait…

‘Did you actually call the police?’

He watched you shake your head, your lips curving into a taunting smile, and the little sound you made as a ‘no’ was way too adorable for Jihoon’s sake. Then your eyes narrowed at him, ‘Do I need to, though?’

It was his time to shake his head, ‘No, I’ll just leave.’

‘You’re bleeding.’

‘Am I?’ He thought you had enough of a trouble already, and he didn’t want to burden you with all his messed up shit. He could only hope not to run into those choleric guys on the way home.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance of him making a show of being clueless. ‘You think I don’t know what you were looking for in that drawer?’ Your brow arched questioningly, accusingly, and Jihoon couldn’t help but shift from one foot to another, feeling rather abashed.

‘It’s in the second one,’ he heard you state, exasperation in your tone. He then watched you step toward him, flippantly pushing his body away from the counter with uninterested expression on your face. He observed your next movements right beside you, your supple fingers opening the drawer, carefully flicking through plastic bags, scissors, some notes and other random shit that people keep in their kitchen drawers; why do they do that? Are they saving stuff for after the apocalypse swipes all the plastic bags off the planet? Well, except the ones in your drawer, of course. They might be valuable when the zombie infection spreads throughout the Earth, right?

Anyway, who cares about any of that when you’re so fucking close to Jihoon? The marvellous scent of your shampoo, or perfume, or some fancy pillow case mist-or whatever the hell it might had been-punched his senses and honestly the blow he’d taken to his skull that night couldn’t even compare to what this scent did to him; the haze that blinded his mind during the fight came nowhere close to the dizziness he felt right now, inhaling the magic of you that was an absolute winner, a total killer.

He wondered if you’d catch him if he stumbled and fell right that moment, in your kitchen at 2 something in the morning. He could tell you it’s the wound’s fault, he could say he got into a fight with three guys and it was just a tad bit too much for his body, plus he hadn’t eaten much that day.

Anyway, what do we have here? Oh, you’re not wearing a bra? Of course, you’re not; it’s night time, you were sleeping.

Wow, okay; he had survived lots of fights, even the smell of you hypnotizing his weak mind, but this… he was sure, this would definitely make his heart burst like the little pathetic thing that it was.

The deep breath that he took didn’t fucking help, when all he could sense was you, all he saw was you and all he could think about was you.

Oh, wait, it’s definitely tomatoes on your pyjamas, not apples.

Fuck, stop staring. Focus, Jihoon.

He gulped, hoping to swallow down the thoughts, that weren’t exactly innocuous, then again they only accelerated when you turned to face him, your hand in the air between your bodies, fingers gripping some cotton pads and the tiny package of band-aids, which if Jihoon had paid enough attention he would have noticed were vibrant yellow with some animation characters chasing each other on them, yet he fixated his gaze on the floor. This was so freaking silly; how old he was? Fourteen? The extreme warmth he felt inside that stupid, thick jacket and the blazing embarrassment itching his cheeks as you gazed at him with those beautiful, stunning eyes were just too much. He attempted to get rid of the feeling by jutting out his lower lip to blow upwards, the fringe on his brow fluttering in the process. That gave him little to no comfort, and upon hearing your voice his eyes snapped up to yours.

‘Take off that jacket, if you don’t want to end up on my Christmas dinner table.’

He managed a chuckle, sighing inwardly, finding some serenity in your casual tone.

He eased the jacket off himself as you filled a glass with water, handing it to him after.

‘Thanks.’

‘To the living room.’ You motioned with a jerk of your head and strolled toward the destination.

Jihoon draped his jacket over a chair in the kitchen and followed your cute figure adorned with the adorable pyjamas, which he was certain would be the death of him, and that sounds fucking odd, yet he couldn’t help but sip from the glass to revitalize his sanity.

He found your living room tidy and clean like the usual, save for the few candy wrappers on the coffee table in front of the couch, which you were patting with your hand, beckoning him over to take a seat near you. He did just that, like a man hypnotized, which wasn’t entirely a lie, the closeness of your eyes and your… whole body had him breathless.

‘Since I don’t have any alcohol, or anything like that,’ you explained, taking the glass of water from his grasp, fingers grazing over his, ‘This’ll do.’

Jihoon watched you dip a cotton pad into the water and then reaching up to gently wipe at his cheekbone, where the blood had trickled down from the wound; he wondered how in the hell it wasn’t gushing out of the damaged flesh anymore while it was rushing through his body at such intense force and speed now.

It was fascinating to watch you like that, all concentrated, brows knitted together, focused on your tender touch as it was inching toward the wound itself. He adored the way you tucked your lip between your teeth, the lovely tint deepening into an even more captivating one. He was so enthralled by your presence that he scarcely noticed the lack of damp cotton on his skin, but when he eventually did he shifted his gaze toward your eyes and found them already fixated on his. A wave of heat surged throughout his cheeks, chest and arms; he got caught staring and now all he could do was pull his eyes toward the Christmas tree behind you.

You resumed lightly stroking his skin, nearing the edge of the wound, and when he felt a sharp pang there he jolted his head backwards, earning a frown from you.

‘Hold still,’ you hissed, your hand reaching up to grasp the top of Jihoon’s head like a basketball to keep him in place.

He felt trapped, with your hands on his head, your face in such close proximity as you inspected the slit above his temple; he felt hot, even without the jacket, but, frankly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, he knew all this was only debilitating his frail body, and if he got another glimpse of your lips he would collapse into your arms with his mind sinking into oblivion.

He dragged his eyes back to the Christmas tree again and stared as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, well it kind of was, because-

‘Is there a present for me too?’ He questioned, with as much dignity as he could muster.

‘Yes,’ you answered, patting the wound for the last time, making Jihoon wince.

‘Which one?’

You glanced over your shoulder, ‘The biggest one.’ When you faced him again you were smiling, a cute, tired grin that caused his chest fill up with warmth. ‘You won’t get to open it until Christmas, though.’

‘Oh,’ he pouted and you chuckled softly, grabbing his hand and dumping the bloody cotton into his open palm. ‘Ew,’ he frowned in disgust, which earned an eye roll from you.

‘This was on your face.’

Although you seemed tired and sleepy, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, you took care of him well; the perfectly placed band-aid gave Jihoon some kind of comfort, and you too seemed content with your job, if the tilt of your head accompanied with the little smile while observing the covered painful spot was anything to go by.

‘You sure you don’t need a doctor, though?’

‘Positive.’

You simply shrugged, reaching for another cotton pad, dipping in into the water like the previous one. ‘How did you get hurt anyway?’

He knew you knew; you never missed the opportunity to lecture him, which you had the full right to do, especially when he showed up at your apartment in the middle of the night, uninvited.

‘I bumped into a wall.’

‘Uh-ha.’ You reached to tenderly wipe his chin, under the sore lip.

‘I was bumped into a wall.’

‘Well, that’s more like it,’ you retrieved your hand only to kind of point a finger at him. ‘That’s what I’d believe.’

‘It did happen like that,’ Jihoon nodded, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah. The lip, though…’ He swiped the tip of his tongue over the sore spot as you watched, ‘The guy had a ring on his finger, with a stone, a big one.’

Your eyes grew wide at that, ‘Shiiit.’

He smiled, a sharp stab in his lip making him wince, the wound’s surface becoming more sensitive from the wetness of his tongue.

‘You want a band-aid on your lip?’ You questioned, placing the second piece of cotton darkened with red onto Jihoon’s palm. ‘It’ll feel weird, though, and you won’t really be able to smile.’

‘Nah, I wanna smile.’

Your okay was followed by a cute yawn, an exhausted and wide, but cute. It was contagious and Jihoon couldn’t help the involuntary huge breath that he took covering his mouth and arching his back slightly to stretch the sore muscles. His eyes got just a tad bit heavy too, but his heart was frantic; he knew falling asleep now would be as difficult as recalling every element of the periodic table, and every person he knew would have confirmed that he was indeed awfully bad at chemistry.

He was certain images of you would swirl around his desperate mind even in his own bed, memories of the night enveloping him, making him feel all fuzzy and warm inside while the sun peeks over the horizon to announce a new day.

Your velvety voice snapped him out of his daze. ‘Why do you keep doing this to yourself?’

He knew what you were asking him about, and if truth be told he wanted to take the blanket that was sitting on your couch and shield himself from your scrutinizing gaze.

‘Me? I’m not doing anything.’

You snorted incredulously. ‘Uh-ha.’

Maybe he was just being dramatic, but it seemed that your eyes were piercing right through him so he squirmed awkwardly on the couch, averting his eyes. Sure, he could say he happens to be at the wrong places, at the wrong time and, of course, with the wrong people, but if he’s being totally honest he chooses to be there every single time, and not even once he regretted the caustic comments that flew out of his mouth without a second thought; he stands by his words with great dignity. That’s what probably gets him into trouble, but that’s also something that he finds thrill in and in some twisted way it keeps him sane.

He sighed before answering, meeting your attentive eyes again. ‘It’s ‘cause I’m bitter, I suppose.’

You pursed your lips and gazed at him intently, brimming with curiosity. ‘About what?’

Jihoon shrugged, ‘Life?’

‘And this,’ you gestured toward his face, referring to the bloody marks, ‘this helps you?’

Not necessarily. Well actually, he suspects that he might be ending up even more bitter about everything after the fights; however, this-him sitting next to you on your couch; the cosy ambience of your apartment; the way you so gracefully albeit effortlessly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear-helped him tremendously; his bitterness always seemed to falter efficiently when being around you.

Jihoon simply shrugged again. ‘Don’t you wanna go back to sleep?’

You stared at him for a second or two, your face expression rather indecipherable before you spoke something that did indeed catch Jihoon off guard and nearly made him choke on air. ‘Don’t you wanna kiss me?’

His eyes widened so much he was surprised they didn’t pop right out of his eye sockets and land in your lap. He was eminently staggered by your question, not to mention the tone you used; it oscillated between nonchalant and somewhat daunting. It sounded challenging, you answering his question with a question, like kids bantering back and forth, except this was more adult-like.

Glancing briefly at his lap he managed a perplexed, ‘What? N-no.’ Then his eyes were back on yours, his tongue moving on its own accord to articulate a ridiculously sheepish, ludicrously low and so utterly idiotic, ‘Yes?’

His whole body was burning, yet he couldn’t possibly miss the way your cheeks were tinted a lovely crimson too as a taunting smile flickered on your lips.

‘Are you asking me if you want to kiss me?’

He felt like he won’t be able to make it out of there alive.

He sighed inwardly, frustrated. His mind tried to fathom the reason behind your words. Where you sleep deprived and couldn’t think straight; or maybe you made a bet with someone trying to humiliate him?

Jihoon’s heart was hammering against its ribcage and it was so insanely intense he thought it would burst right through and yet again land in your lap.

You seemed to be rather amused by his bewilderment, watching him fiddle with the ends of his hoody sleeves. ‘Is Jihoon, the bad boy, getting flustered because of me?’

Oh, that must be it, you probably noticed the way he was blushing before that night and decided to tease him about it. Well too bad, because he’s not going to simply crumble and capitulate to you, there’s a reason he’s called a bad boy after all.

He was adamant in redeeming himself so he took a deep breath and stated a simple, but hopefully convincing, ‘No.’

You narrowed your eyes at him as if deep in thought, lips pursing to one side then the other, your fingertip tapping your chin for some dramatic effect.

He didn’t know what to expect from you, and when you uttered your next sentence-more like ordered-he almost jumped to his feet and flew out the window.

‘Then answer my question properly.’

He had thought about this kind of situation before, of course. His imaginative mind would dive into the widest oceans of what ifs without much desire to crawl out the deep waters. But this was actually happening; you were most likely about to mock him like there’s no tomorrow, you would remind him of this very moment every chance you get, you were never going to let this die down, therefore he thought he was fucking insane when he opened his mouth to let you know that-

‘Ok, yeah, yes. My answer… is yes.’

He figured there was nothing to lose, except for your friendship; well… okay, there was so much to lose, but if not now then when? He had this stupid crush for a year, a whole fucking year, and maybe keeping it from you only made it all worse.

Confessing to you, even just about wanting to kiss you, surprisingly felt good. Ripping his heart out and handing it to you was scary, but good.

If you laughed, he could say he was simply playing along, he would take his bloody heart back and move on; yet you weren’t laughing, or smiling, or… doing anything that could indicate his failure for that matter.

The air around you two stilled as if some bubble of ambivalence engulfed you both, inaudible what is happening; is he for real; wait, why isn’t she laughing echoing all around in those dizzy minds.

He heard you whisper some words under your breath, something along the lines of ‘fuck it’, and then he felt your soft fingers on his hand, snatching the cotton pads from his palm and dropping them somewhere on the table all the while he watched you wide-eyed. This was followed by you flipping his hand so the palm would face downward, then sliding it across his thigh to wipe it on his jeans.

If this wasn’t enough for Jihoon’s heart to stop, your quick movements to place both of his hands upon your cheeks was certainly the reason his heart skipped a couple of beats.

Your skin was soft and warm and… why are you putting your arms around his neck? Holy shit.

Is this really happening?

‘Do it.’

You were so close now he could see all the marks and pores of your face, and he loved every bit of it. That scent of you had him weak in the knees once again, his heart pumping as if trying to win a battle against the tiny heart of a mouse.

Fuck, your eyes twinkled like the sparkly night sky enchanting the whole world; would you close them upon feeling his lips on yours?

You were getting impatient, brows raised expectantly, gaze flickering between Jihoon’s dark orbs and his oh-so eager lips.

Should he do this? Just like that? All it took was his guard coming off for a little while and you getting a sight of his flustered state?

‘Just kiss meeeee-

Half a command, half a whine there, he could sense a tad bit of playfulness too.

That striking scent; those inviting lips; your delightful eyes; the dizziness of his captivated mind; your arms around his neck, his caressing your cheeks… sleep deprived or not you were getting that kiss.

That’s how your adorable whine was cut off-it was muffled by his lips. It was more of a peck, though, than a full-on I’ve-been-in-love-with-you-for-a-year kiss. It still managed to ignite something within him.

He pulled away almost instantly to check your reaction. You blinked at him a few times, a ghost of a smile twitching the corners of your lips.

Jihoon’s breath hitched when you leaned in and kissed him again, properly.

All of his most secret, most outrageous dreams were coming true right that moment, just like that, in your living room, where he’d been countless times, on your couch, which you both sprawled across during movie nights.

Damn, what a crazy life he was living, indeed.

Jihoon had no idea if it was physically possible for his heart to become twenty times warmer, but it felt like it did. The most majestic flowers began to sprout in his chest, and the wilted ones started blossoming anew.

Your lips were pillowy, the kind that brings such comfort and ease the time seemingly cease its existence, all becomes one, galaxies swirl in human bodies, people cry gold and plants play symphonies.

You tasted like sunset in summer; his fingertips grazed heaven.

(( ‘Wanna stay over and wait for Christmas together?’ ))

svt masterlist

#kwriterskollection #Lee Jihoon #seventeen scenarios #woozi fluff #badboy!woozi #woozi fanfic #woozi one shot #seventeen friends to lovers au #jihoon imagine #jihoon fluff #woozi scenario #you know how to make a boy feel warm #kyut-tea

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the-pen-and-pad · 5 years

Text

Full Circle

“Get back here you filthy thief!” A man bellowed. A man dressed in the accoutrements of a noble family busted through the crowd streets and exclaimed, “Someone stop that little miscreant!”

Uther continued to weave in and out of the crowd unnoticed. Panic had not quite set in yet as he thought to himself, “All I have to do is get to the sewers and I am home free.”

Uther stood all of three feet tall, and was a masterful thief and pick pocket, and not too fearful of the consequences of the actions he had just taken. The reward from this mark seemed entirely too lucrative, and his heart was beating as if it were going to jump out of his chest.

He had been following this well-dressed man for the better part of the day, keeping his eyes on the large coin purse the man was wearing on his left hip. Throughout the day he watched as the man pulled gold coin after gold coin out of this seemingly bottomless pouch and decided that this was the prize he had been waiting for all month. It had been a while since Uther had gotten a large haul and was surviving on scraps and easy targets, drunkards and gamblers. Uther stalked his prey most of the day and took the first opportunity to strike, slicing the pouch from the man’s belt and then darting into the crowd.

“Where to go? Where to go?” Uther pondered as he passed under another market stand like it were another small doorway to freedom. “If I remember correctly the entrance I am looking for is about thirty feet away on the left hand side.” His thoughts were now racing.

It seemed that in all the excitement he had missed his mark and panic started to finally set in.

“I am about to be out in the open, I have to think quickly.” His mind seemed to have shifted into a calm calculating state, almost trance like.

Uther noticed an alley with a tavern on his immediate left and pivoted to make a mad dash to the entrance. As he burst through the doors he noticed the sign above him read “Dwarven Respite”

It seemed as he had lost his pursuer and could finally breathe.

He began to wonder “Why was that man is such vigorous pursuit of me over a few gold coins?”

He decided to reach into the pouch, and he felt a strange tingling as he plunged his hand into it. He started realizing why that man was so relentless. This was no ordinary pouch, it was enchanted and linked to the coffers of that man’s family.

“What a day! I seemed to have hit the jackpot!” Uther thought to himself.

Uther decided to celebrate his new found wealth by partaking in the establishment’s renowned brews and exclaimed “I will have a tankard of your finest ale!”

“That’ll be ten gold pieces, fine sir, though you hardly look as if you can afford it.” The barkeep scoffed as he looked Uther up and down.

He noted that Uther was in ratty clothing and looked much like the beggars that come in after a long day of pan handling. With a subtle grin Uther reached into the pouch and pulled twenty gold pieces out and said, “That’s ten for the ale and ten for you to keep you opinion to yourself”

Uther also said, “Not only can I afford it, I can afford to tell you it would be wise to watch your tongue. I may look like I am in rags, as if I am some street urchin, but I have and will always know wealth beyond your wildest imagination.”

As the night crept in, Uther now knowing that he was free to move about unnoticed once again, made his way to the entrance of the sewer that led to the Thieves’ Den. As he entered his private quarters he counted out five thousand gold pieces and placed them in his trunk at the end of his bedroll and made his way to the Thieves’ Guild depository. He knew he had done well and did not want to be too greedy; he emptied the coffers into the depository taking careful count of all that he had gained that day. It totaled to just over five hundred thousand gold pieces.

Just as he finished emptying the coffers a bellowing voice greeted him warmly, “Uther, my boy, you have done well once again. To think just a few years ago you were only a scared orphaned teenager left to the streets. I watched you beg and saw your true potential. You are like the son I never had. I truly am proud of you, boy”

The voice was familiar, it was the leader of the Thieves’ Guild, the man Uther knew as his father. Uther was not unfamiliar with this type of praise, he had always done better than those around him when it came to performance within the guild. It had been a slow month and an even slower year.

Uther curiously asked, “Well, now what?”

The leader of the Thieves’ Guild, Artemis, said, “Well, now we can move on to bigger and better things. I hadn’t ever thought we would come across this kind of wealth in years and here you are providing the family with enough financial strength to truly come out of the shadows and make a name for ourselves.”

Curiously, Uther asked, “What do you mean?”

Artemis let out a boisterous laugh and said, “We had been stealing from the shadows for so long it doesn’t surprise me that you forgot what the plan was my boy. We are going to open a gambling establishment and host gladiatorial type fights for people to bet on. In the front it will seem like a suitable business endeavor. However, we will be robbing people blind while they ask us to do so. The booze will be spiked, the matches will be rigged, and the house will always win.”

Uther recalled that this was his plan, this was a pipedream; He had never thought would be real, but now it will only take a few well-placed deals.

After all the excitement died down Uther returned to his private quarters and put out the lanterns that seemed to be glowing with the radiance of his finally realized dreams.

“I can finally come out of the shadows,” he thought as his eyelids got heavy and he drifted peacefully to sleep.

Uther’s sleep was disturbed by an unfamiliar voice, “Uther, dear child, you have stolen your last thing.”

Uther thought he was awake but it was clear that this was a dream he could not wake from.

“You have taken upon a curse by reaching into that pouch and this is now part of who you are. From here on out every bit of money and item of value has to pass through this bag and if it is gotten through illegitimate means and is unearned you will lose it.”

Puzzled, Uther calls out. “What do you mean?”

The ethereal voice continued to explain. “This pouch was crafted by a magician who had tried to teach his children that stealing and taking advantage of people was wrong. Its enchantment causes the bearer of this curse to only be able to gain wealth by legitimate means. The man you stole it from had the same problem and until the pouch found its way to him; he lived a life of extortion and villainous behavior. He had the pouch delivered to him as a payment from a wretched man who was unable to pay his required fee. Now the pouch has found its way to you after the man you stole from has repented and changed his ways”

Uther cried out, “Utter nonsense this is simply a nightmare and you are only a voice in my head!”

Uther awoke to find that his trunk has been emptied and all the good he had stolen in the past were entirely gone.

Uther thought, “This is some cruel prank, no one here really likes me except Artemis.”

Uther stepped out accepting that this was only some cruel joke only to be greeted by the man he had stolen from. “Oh, it seems I came across you too late kiddo.”

The man then introduced himself properly. “Well, my name is Tiberus and my family used to be feared around these parts. That was until that pouch made its way into my possession. We were stripped of our wealth and I thought it was some kind of cruel farce. The man who gave me the pouch then explained the nature of the pouch and what I had to do to regain our family’s wealth. Now, we do everything above board, as they say. It is interesting how much more wealth we came into by being charitable and kind to everyone. My best word of advice, boy, cast aside the evil in your heart and learn to live honorably”

Tiberus leaves before Uther can speak a word and left Uther there to ponder the life he will have to lead from here on out.

“Guess it’s time for a new life, Artimes may be disappointed but I doubt I can pass the pouch along to some other sorry soul until I have paid my penance.” Uther thought as he wandered about town and tried to find himself some honest work.

Just as quickly as he came upon wealth it was stripped from him and Uther wandered for days before he was approached by the king’s guards. “Hey there Uther, haven’t had any complaints about you stealing from the underbelly lately. What gives?”

Uther went on to explain his circumstances and what fate had bestowed upon him. One of the guards recalled a unique opportunity and relayed it to Uther. “Well little guy, turns out the royal family is in need of spies to try to prevent conflict. It seems that fate has called upon you once again. Perhaps this is the honest work that your curse desires. Feel free to come by the castle tomorrow afternoon. We will put in a good word as we both know of all your abilities.”

The next day Uther made his way to the castle and was immediately given work. Uther graciously accepted the opportunity to better his reputation and do something good for the people.

Uther’s training started promptly the following day and without fail, he graduated at the top of his class at an accelerated pace. Uther was now officially a royal spy and could count himself amongst the few throughout history. Days went by and Uther could tell something big was coming.

“All this over a damned coin purse.” Uther thought to himself as his watched some dignitaries from a rival kingdom deliver a secret message to a group of people who looked all too familiar.

“What has Artemis and The Thieves’ Guild gotten themselves into since I have been gone?” Uther thought as he knew this was not going to be an easy thing to approach.

Uther called forward the King’s Guard to intercept The Thieves’ Guild and Artemis and sulked away into the shadows.

Uther was not ready for what he was to do next, part of his duties included the interrogation of people who had committed crimes against the kingdom, and this meant he had to interrogate his former family.

After a long break and deep conversation with the king, Uther knew what had to be done.

Uther made his way to the detention facility and the first person he was to question was Artemis.

“How has this come to be? My boy.” Artemis asked with complete despair. “I thought you were one of us, I never did know what happened to you after that day.”

“Artemis, I have found a new calling. I have found something bigger than myself. Please tell me what you were doing?” Uther said with some indignation masking his sadness.

“Well because I do not want to implicate any of the others I will tell you frankly, the rivaling kingdoms have been planning to take over and I was simply securing a place for ourselves in what would be. I was providing the other kingdoms with dossiers on the noble families who make up the royal council so that they could keep this coup as free from bloodshed as possible.” Artemis explained.

Uther simply said. “Continue.”

Artemis went on to tell Uther. “The outside nations have grown tired of the way that this kingdom is ruled by a council and not by a king. They fear that if they cannot persuade the king to do things without approval from the council that soon their people will request the similar treatment. They are not happy with that idea and want to discredit the royal council. However, I have had The Thieves’’ Guild buy us all some leverage by gathering information about the outside kingdoms and I am willing to give it to you in exchange for my freedom.”

Uther scoffed and said. “Artemis, have you forgotten, I once lived among you all. I have already given The Thieves’’ Guild to the King and there is nothing you can offer to save you from your fate.”

“What do you mean?” Artemis asked with panic.

Uther went on to explain. “Artemis, I never once thought you would be a traitor to the kingdom that has treated you so well. The kingdom that never once prohibited you from living your life in the shadows without pursuit. How dare you ask forgiveness from a king who has let you live freely as the council had declared you should be able to. You have betrayed everything and for that they will have your head.”

Artemis looked at Uther sullenly and said. “Is there nothing you can do? You seem to be at the king’s side and he trust you. There must be a way.”

Uther looked away and simply asked, “What really happened to my family Artemis?”

Artemis went silent and accepted his fate, he was to be beheaded the following weekend and Uther would never know the truth as it would die with Artemis.

Uther went on to perform his duties for the kingdom preventing multiple invasions and wars through his masterful use of subterfuge and espionage.

Years had come and gone and Uther was now late in his forties when the king finally dismissed him and he was finally free of his curse. He never forgot where he came from and where it led him. He choose to move to the forests surrounding the kingdom and live the life of a hermit and kept the cursed coin pouch. He was not sure what to do with it but he knew when the time came it would find its way.

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