fluffyddeonu
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His mother, with her soft eyes –her calm smile and comforting touch, had planted a seed in Jeno’s heart, allowing it to blossom into a magnificent flower. A flower that eagerly anticipated the touch of warm sunshine, rain, and the sound of a beautiful melody.
She never told him what to do when the one that was to nurture and care for it, happened to be the one to pluck the flower, and heartlessly crush it between their tight fist, throwing the withered carcass to the ground. Not even deeming it worthy enough for a parting glance.
Bookmarked by fluffyddeonu
04 Apr 2024
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Summary
They both freeze. Jeno’s eyes draw up from the table to stare wordlessly at Jaemin, who just as wordlessly stares back. Then with a lick of his lips, Jaemin attempts to correct himself:
“I don’t mind the waist.”
The same verbal error comes out. This time, however, Jaemin's eyes drop down. Following the lines of Jeno’s apron and trail of his words, down his chest—
“The waist. Waist. No. No. Your waist. I mean. …fuck.”
Closing his eyes, Jeno sighs. He could stomach scaling buildings and jumping off roofs, breaking into places undetected and retrieving stolen data. But this? Trying to remain calm in the face of a gorgeous guy who likes him so much that it causes him to verbally malfunction? This is his hardest mission yet.
In which Jeno is a barista struggling with awkward flirting from a handsome patron by day and an intelligence agent struggling with an equally awkward crush on his enemy by night.
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Bookmarked by fluffyddeonu
10 Mar 2024