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#stupid cupid | 01
shiro-00s · 11 months
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heaven on earth ✭ ˎˊ-
ft. social media au ⸝⸝ idol!xiao x fem!reader
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synopsis ; — in which you befriend your next door neighbour who, unbeknownst to you, was apart of a soon-to-be one of the most popular bands throughout liyue. you're unable to tell if cupid was helping you or not when things with xiao keept going up and down. will he continue to keep his secret from yours truly?
genre — 5wirl band au, next door neighbour (apartment but same thing), slow-burn, fluff, crack, angst (at some point yea), modern au, flirty x shy trope, sfw, includes writing ✰
staus — on-going
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PROFILES — sleep deprived workaholics / an(emo) qties
table of contents !
00. prologue .. once upon a time ✮
01. cupid meter !
02. information acquired !
03. gift from stranger !
04. communication is key ✮
05. gift for stranger !
06. pride or nice !
07. unwinding !
08. a new number !
09. out of character !
10. unfamiliar warmth ✮
11. yet !
12. surely a dinner !
13. who he really is !
14. free tickets !
15. hint of the past !
16. arrivals !
17. face-to-face ✮
18. stupid scandal !
19. knock knock !
20. drastic measures !
21. mission accomplished !
22. war is over !
23. second date !
24. picture perfect ✮
25. enlighten us !
26. father-son bond !
27. maternal instinct !
28. family business !
29. a routine !
30. suffocating room !
31. oh no !
32. battlefield !
33. unwanted encounters ✮
34. at fault !
35. exciting news !
36. welcome back !
37. no denial !
38. square one !
39. oblivious !
40. a dumbass !
41. one step closer !
42. hand in marriage !
43. code red !
TAGLIST [OPEN] — @mikctp @ghostlysyntaxed @kazemiya @nnasv @gojoandelsalovechilde @candy-purple-cyanide @kissingkzuha @zyilas @lunaavity @luminescent-light @mave-in @rizakari @riikyu @kokoscutie @starsxnight @sketcheeee @softlie @izakyun @xiaxilia @the-sweet-madame
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moonscriptsx · 7 months
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Daylight || 01 (M)
PART 2
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I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you
SYNOPSIS:  Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.
PAIRING: CEO!Wonwoo x Assistant!Reader [with appearances by Mingyu (a self-proclaimed Cupid extraordinaire), Soonyoung & Joshua as supportive besties, Seungkwan & Seokmin as the life of the party, Seungcheol (a menace), and a brief glimpse of Chan.]
GENRE: Coworkers→Friends→Lovers!AU – Fluff + Smut [minors dni]
WORDS: The entirety of both parts is 27.1k. Part 1 is 15.4k and part 2 is 11.6k.
WARNINGS: Slowburn, pining from both ends. Reader is constantly in a silent crisis when it comes to feelings, and Wonwoo is possessive (both in and out of the bedroom). Mentions of alcohol, cursing, and grinding on the dancefloor. Wonwoo is a slightly hard!dom but talks you through it so sweetly it'll make you melt. Oral (both recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), messy orgasms. Slight choking, dirty talk, alludes to squirting. Wonwoo is a pussy fiend.
A/N: Shoutout to the plethora of billionaire CEO books that I've been reading recently that ended up inspiring this piece and subsequently pulled me out of a three, almost four, year writing drought. But now I'm finding out that Tumblr has this stupid fucking character block limit that's not letting me post the fic in its entirety so it'll be split into two parts. Annoying ass rule. Anyway, It's good to be back! 🫶🏻
PLAYLIST: daylight by taylor swift // poison ivy by hemi moore // violet chemistry by miley cyrus // play with fire by sam tinnesz // ruin my life by zara larsson // tonight by zayn // middle of the night by elley duhe // worst behavior by ariana grande. // so it goes by taylor swift
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The bustling street of people has you grumbling underneath your breath as you weave in and out of the crowd, the soles of your heels clicking against the pavement as you walk the last two blocks to get to your office. The early morning traffic of business men and women alike are already getting on your nerves as they take their time getting to their own jobs, taking strides small and slow enough that you’re ready to wring every single one of their necks as you bypass them while juggling the carrier of coffee in your hand.
A string of obscenities is falling from your mouth as you stumble inside the office building, clutching onto the coffees for dear life as you manage to make your way to the elevators without spilling the cups. Pressing the top floor, you’re heaving a sigh of relief as the elevator ‘dings’, a grumble escaping you as your heels click against the floor with each stride you take. Scattered murmurs around the office have you straining to hear the morning gossip, your eyes curiously peering around at the worried faces of your coworkers.
“He’s miserable today.”
Whirring around, you meet the wide smile of Mingyu, the head of finance and Wonwoo’s right hand man. You roll your eyes at his words before grabbing a coffee from the carrier and handing it to the man.
“When is he not miserable?” You counter, making Mingyu chuckle.
“When he’s around you,” he teases, making your face flush.
“Shut up,” you hiss, glaring at him. “He’s always miserable around me. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he hated me.”
He scoffs at your words before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Oh please,” he grinned. “You bring order and excitement to his life. Two things which he desperately needs.”
You shoot Mingyu a pointed look as you grip the last two coffees in the carrier, your head gesturing towards his office as your spin on your heel.
“Get back to work, Mingyu.”
The taller man grumbles, his lips forming into a pout as he calls behind you.
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
Ignoring his response, you make your way towards your desk. Placing the carrier down, you set your laptop bag onto your desk before unwrapping your purse from around you and setting it on your chair. Grabbing your coffee in one hand, you grab the remaining one in the carrier with your other hand before turning towards the open door behind your desk. He hasn’t noticed your presence yet, the man still immersed in the papers he’s reading.
Leaning against the doorframe, you let a smirk grace your lips as you gazed at your unsuspecting boss. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and he’s frowning as he reads over the words on the paper. Along with his serious and reserved nature, he was devastatingly handsome. Sharp eyes, high bridged nose, and lips that curled into a feline smirk when he was feeling cocky enough. His looks paired with the strong build and tall statue made him look nothing less than a god.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you break yourself out of analyzing your boss as you announce your presence.
“You know it wouldn’t kill you to smile every now and again.”
The sound of your voice has the man’s head snapping up to look at you, sharp eyes shooting you a pointed look as you grinned at your boss. Pushing yourself off of the doorframe, you walk over to him and place the other coffee cup down onto his desk, biting back a laugh as he stares at you with a blank look on his face.
“Now I understand why women get annoyed when people tell them to smile.”
His deadpan response only makes your smile grow wider as you take a seat in one of the chairs in front of him, your own cup of coffee nestled in your hands as you take a sip.
“I’m just saying,” you hold a hand up in defense. “If you keep frowning, your face is going to get stuck like that. And you’ll get wrinkles”
“Maybe then people will leave me alone,” he grumbled.
“Unfortunately, you’re a CEO, Mr. Jeon,” you point out. “You’re going to have to meet with people whether you want to or not.”
Wonwoo hums before he leans forward to grab his coffee.
Thick rimmed glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, his sharp eyes devoid of any amusement.
“If I asked you to cancel all of my meetings for today, would you?”
You splutter into your coffee cup at his question, eyes widening at the serious look on his face.
“Please don’t tell me you’re serious,” you whined, shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s already eight thirty and your first meeting is in half an hour!”
Wonwoo purses his lips, eyes glinting under the fluorescents.
“I’m sure they would understand,” he reassures.
It’s then you catch him biting back a small smile, realization washing over you as your lips part in surprise.
“Are - are you – making a joke?”
Wonwoo shrugs, this time letting his lips curl into a feline-like smirk.
“Not a very good one, apparently,” he chuckles, making you let out a laugh of surprise.
“Look at you, Mr. Jeon,” you beam. “You can smile every once in a while.”
Shaking his head at your words, Wonwoo folds his hands on his desk before leaning comfortably against the back of his chair.
“Were you able to set up the meeting with Seungcheol?”
You nod, crossing your legs as you adjust your posture on the chair.
“He’ll be meeting us in two weeks,” you informed. “Mingyu and I are already working on the numbers and stats as well as putting together the powerpoint to present.”
Wonwoo nods in acknowledgement, his glasses slightly sliding down the bridge of his nose at the movement, and you try to ignore the muscles in his arm as you watch him push them back up.
“Good,” he praises. “I expect nothing less than perfect with the two of you.”
You swallow thickly at the praise, adjusting your legs once more as you try not to shrink under his gaze.
“Right,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes. “I should get to work.”
Smoothing out your skirt as you stand up, you turn to walk away from Wonwoo when he calls out our name, your head turning back to look at him as he gestures towards the coffee.
“Thank you,” he calls out. “For the drink.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not quite sure why he chose now of all the times to thank you for the drink you bring him everyday.
“You’re welcome.”
Pushing aside the confusion, you turn back around and get started on your day.
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“(Y/N)!”
Soonyoung’s whine reverberates from the speaker as you wince, masking it with a smile as you look at your friend on the screen.
With your busy work schedule, you haven't had much time to see or hang out with your friends, gaining you whines and groans of ‘We miss you’s!’ from the group whenever you have a chance to Facetime them.
“Hi Soonie,” you greet, beaming with a small wave. “Happy almost birthday!”
Soonyoung’s grin widens at your words, the blonde bouncing happily on the other side of the screen.
“Thank you, honey!” He responds. “I was actually calling about that. We’re going to the HYBE Club on Friday for my birthday and I wanted to see if you were able to go.”
Pursing your lips, you perch your phone up against the corner of your computer screen as you toggle around the apps, pulling up your calendar and scanning over the dates. The empty space for Friday’s date stares back at you and you almost want to cry out of relief at the sight of a rare day off, your lips curving into a bright smile as you peer down at Soonyoung’s face on the screen.
“Believe it or not,” you started, grinning at your friend. “I’m off.”
A joyous cheer escapes the blonde, muffled shouts in the background indicating that your friends had heard the whole thing and were collectively celebrating at the fact that you were able to join them. Soonyoung beams at the camera.
“We’re going to have a blast, (Y/N)!” He says, excitedly. “Meet us at HYBE Club around five! We’re going to start out with dinner and drinks!”
“And dancing!”
Dokyeom’s shout echoes in your airpod and you can’t help but to giggle as he and Soonyoung wrestle over the phone, the former’s bright smile coming into view as he grins at you through the phone.
“Hi (Y/N)!” He greets, his infectious smile making you beam back at him.
“Hi ‘Kyeomie.” you coo, blowing him a kiss. “I miss you!”
“We miss you too!” He whines, pouting. “You’ve been working too hard lately.”
“I know I have,” you frown. “But I’m excited to be able to have a night with you guys.”
“We can’t wait (Y/N)!”
Joshua and Seungkwan shout from the background and you can’t help but to laugh as the four of them wrestle over the phone. You were so preoccupied in watching the chaos unfold amongst your friends that you hadn’t noticed the presence that stood behind you, the deep timbre almost making you jump out of your skin.
“Am I interrupting something?”
You’re clambering to hit the end button, heat flooding your cheeks as you place the phone face down on your desk as you swivel your chair to face Wonwoo, your boss standing behind you with his arms folded over his chest. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as you catch the playful glint in his eyes as he leans against the doorway.
“N – not at all, Mr. Jeon,” you stuttered out. “I was just finishing my lunch break.”
Wonwoo nods, a small frown on his face as his gaze trails over you.
“Ah,” he responds, and you catch the slight slump of his shoulders at your words. “I was actually coming to see if you wanted to grab lunch with me.”
Your heart stilled, the butterflies multiplying tenfold as you mirror his frown.
“Oh,” you mutter, dejectedly. “I’m sorry, sir. If I had known –”
“It’s alright, (Y/N),” he brushes off your apology with a wave of his hand. “Now I know for next time to catch you a little sooner.”
Offering you a small smile, he bows his head in your direction before walking off to the elevators. You’re still frowning as you watch his retreating form, your heart tugging regretfully in your chest, a small sigh escaping you as you slump back defeated in your chair.
“Yikes,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Break his heart, why don’t you?”
Your eyes narrowed into a glare as your head snapped to look at a smirking Mingyu, his tall stature leaning against your desk.
“Shut up, Mingyu,” you bite out, making the man laugh.
“The man just wanted to treat you to a nice meal and you turned him down,” he tuts, shaking his head. “That’s cold.”
“I already ate!” You defended. “I wasn’t going to just sit there and watch him eat.”
Mingyu purses his lips, shoulders shrugging in thought.
“Maybe he likes that,” he grins. “Maybe he just wanted to be in your company.”
You roll your eyes at his words, waving him off as you turn to your computer.
“I’m in his company enough,” you muttered, making Mingyu snicker.
“Maybe he wants more than your company.”
Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly, chortling with laughter as you chuck a pen in his direction.
“Leave me alone, Gyu!”
“I’m just saying,” he grins, holding his hands up in defense. “It’s something to think about.”
“It’s nothing to think about,” you grumbled. “Go back to your office and mind your business.”
Mingyu’s laugh follows him as he walks away, leaving you to mull over his words as your mind fills with the image of you laying in your boss’s arms, heat flooding between your legs at the thought of your bare body pressed against his silk sheets.
Ignoring your increased heart rate, you’re turning back to the computer and grumbling under your breath.
Go to hell, Kim Mingyu.
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Tongues and teeth clash together in a bruising kiss as you’re clambering to sit on the desk, a whimper falling from your lips as hands rip open your blouse, buttons flying everywhere as your chest becomes exposed. There’s a growl against your lips, teeth clamping down onto your bottom one as greedy hands encase themselves around your covered breasts. If the bruising kiss hadn’t left you breathless, it was the rough kneading to your bra-clad mounds that had your lips parting in ecstasy. Frenzied lips leave a hot trail down the expanse of your neck as you’re perched on the desk, legs wrapping around lean hips.
“God, you’re perfect,” he grits out, tongue sweeping over the valley between your breasts. “Perfect for me and only me. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
You moan at his words, back arching into his touch as he reaches behind to unclasp your bra.
“Only you, Mr. Jeon.”
A salacious smirk crosses his lips as he peers up at you from between your breasts, glasses haphazardly sitting on the bridge of his nose, and he’s tonguing at your flesh as he slides your bra straps down your arms, mouth ghosting over a pert nipple before taking it fully in his mouth –
And then chimes are going off.
There’s an obnoxious ring filling the air as you bolt upright in bed, heat pooling in between your legs as you try to grip onto your surroundings.
Much to your dismay, you’re in your apartment – alone – filled with nothing but the remnants of your burning arousal. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration, a string of curses falling from your lips as you’re fishing around for the obnoxious ringtone that had disturbed your scandalous dream. Peering down at the screen, you glare at the caller, mentally condemning them into next week as you press the answer button.
“You’re a dead man.”
Your words are harsh as you answer the call, a whine falling from the receiving end as you glare into the empty room.
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu apologizes, making you scoff. “But it’s an emergency.”
You grit your teeth as he speaks, your body refusing to get up from the bed as sleep and arousal still swirls in the pit of your stomach.
“I swear to god, Mingyu, if someone is not dying –”
“The presentation got pushed up.”
Your threat falls short, lips parting in shock as your eyes widen in alarm.
“You’re joking.”
“It’s bad, (Y/N),” he says quietly into the phone. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”
A heavy sigh falls from you as you gnaw at the inside of your lip.
“Does he want anything?” You ask softly. “Coffee? Breakfast? A hammer to destroy his office?”
Mingyu chuckles on the other end.
“Coffee is always good for him,” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “A blowjob might work too.”
“Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, and Mingyu bursts out laughing at your response. “Give me an hour to get ready and I’ll be in.”
“Hurry, please,” he whines. “He’s doing that thing where he stares catatonically into nothing and it’s starting to scare me.”
You snort at that, shaking your head at Mingyu.
“Just give him encouraging pats on the back,” you joked, grinning. “And tell him he’s doing a great job.”
“He’s not going to like it if I do it,” Mingyu grumbles. “He only likes you.”
“Suck it up you big baby,” you tease. “You’ll be fine.”
Not waiting to hear his response, you end the call with a huff as you flop back down onto your pillows, staring up at the ceiling. The intense burn that had ignited between your thighs had simmered to a dull ache, the arousal from the very vivid dream a now distant memory. Clenching your thighs together to soothe the remnants of your desire, you ran a hand over your face before reluctantly rolling out of bed.
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On a normal day, most of your coworkers would have still been half asleep, dragging their feet around the office as they fought off the remnants of slumber. The morning hours were usually somber, few words spoken between each other as they tried to finish their morning coffees.
Today was not one of those days.
The second you step out of the elevator, you’re met with utter chaos of chatter and frantic pacing — almost like they were chickens with their heads cut off. You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the group around you shove papers into each other's hands and point in the direction of the copier, demands upon demands being yelled at to one another.
“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.
Clutching the carrier of coffee in your hand, you weave in between the frazzled group as you make your way straight to Wonwoo’s office, not even bothering to drop your stuff on your desk as you push his door open. Mingyu sits with his back to you, head snapping up to look at you with a sigh of relief as you make your way into the office. Across from him sits your boss who, true to Mingyu’s word, was staring into the abyss with his hands folded on his desk.
Cautiously you’re walking over to Wonwoo and placing a gentle hand on his back, your other one putting the coffee on his desk as you offer a soothing pat to his broad stature. Wonwoo had abandoned his glasses, the specs splayed out carelessly in front of him, and his sharp eyes are settling on you as you rubbed his back. As your gaze met his, you were reminded of the dream you had before Mingyu had so rudely interrupted it.
The image of Wonwoo laying you out on this very desk, mouth on your breasts and hands resting somewhere a boss’s hands shouldn’t be on their assistant. Heat fills your body as you watch him lean into your touch, his stern expression softening, and he’s graciously taking the coffee from you as he grabs your hand in his.
“Thank you for this,” he accepts, graciously. “You always seem to know when I need it.”
From out of the corner of your eye, you see the smug smirk on Mingyu’s face and you fight back the urge to kick him in the shin as you offer your boss a small smile.
“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” you reply, squeezing his hand in reassurement before pulling away. “I am your assistant, after all. It’s my job to know these things.”
The brief softened gaze on his face hardens once more at your words and he’s watching in silence as you move to the opposite side of the desk to take a seat next to Mingyu. His sharp gaze falls over the two of you, eyes scrutinizing your every move, and you push away the heat blooming in between your legs as you cross them.
Mingyu peers between the two of you, an eyebrow quirked attentively before he’s leaning forward in his chair.
“Do you want to break the news or should I?”
Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his expression stony as he looks at you.
“Seungcheol asked me to push up the deadline,” he pauses, and you catch him gritting his teeth in aggravation.
“How soon?” You ask, nervously taking a sip of your coffee. Wonwoo doesn’t miss a beat.
“This Friday.”
The coffee almost splutters from your mouth as you choke in surprise, eyes widening as you look between the two men.
“That’s in three days!” You exclaim. “Not to mention I’m off that day!”
Mingyu offers you a pitiful expression while Wonwoo remains stoic, the difference between them comparable to night and day.
“Not anymore, you’re not,” Wonwoo denies, and you feel your heart clench. “We need you here.”
Resentment begins to build in your body as you shoot your boss an incredulous look, anger boiling in your veins.
“Why did you even agree to this?” You asked harshly, making Wonwoo tense up. “You could’ve asked him to give you until at least Monday.”
Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line and you just know he’s holding back from scolding you in front of Mingyu.
“It was out of my control,” he shrugs, and the nonchalant response has you rising out of your seat as the anger inside of you bubbles.
“Bullshit!” You bite back, and Wonwoo’s face hardens.
“Watch yourself, (Y/N),” he warns, making you scoff.
“I’m allowed to be angry, Mr. Jeon,” you point out. “Very rarely do I get a day off and the one time I do, you make the decision to take that away from me.”
Wonwoo’s jaw clenched are your words, his sharp eyes glinting with fury as he looks down the bridge of his nose at you.
“You are my assistant, Ms. (L/N),” he bites out. “When I’m here, you’re here.”
You were certain that if you had been a cartoon character, steam would’ve been emitting from your ears as you glare at the man in front of you.
“I have plans,” you grit harshly. Wonwoo doesn’t bat an eye.
“Reschedule them.”
Mingyu can only watch the two of you with an open mouth, utterly shocked at the exchange happening before him.
In your last attempt to make him change his mind, you grit your teeth as you shoot your boss a look of fury.
“I have a date.”
The air between the three of you stilled.
You watched as Wonwoo’s shoulders tensed, a flash of jealousy in his eyes as he glowered at you from his desk. Mingyu’s eyes bugged out of his head, the businessman immediately pushing himself out his seat as he held his hands up in defense.
“I — I don’t think this concerns me,” he excuses himself, brown eyes glimmering in worry as he shoots you a look. “Come find me later when you’re both ready to talk about the presentation.”
You and Wonwoo stay silent as Mingyu walks out of the office, the door slamming shut behind him, and it’s then that Wonwoo stands up from his desk. His tall stature towering over the wood, a move he made with clients when he was trying to intimidate them — a move you’ve watched him make with everyone but you.
“I’m sure whoever it is will understand that your job comes first,” he pauses, his voice cold. “That I come first.”
You stand your ground, your furious gaze borrowing into his.
“Are you insisting that I don’t deserve a personal life?”
Wonwoo doesn’t back down in the slightest.
“I’m saying that this is your job,” he reiterates. “You’re my assistant. I’m your priority. When I’m needed, you’re needed.”
“So you’re telling me that any plans I make or have planned already have to be flexible so that I can accommodate you?”
“Precisely.”
A sharp inhale comes from you, angry tears threatening to spill over your cheeks as you fight them back. Your fists clench at your sides as you send your boss a menacing glare. You knew there was no way around this, you knew that no matter how much you defended yourself Wonwoo wasn’t going to back down.
You exhale slowly, keeping the tears at bay.
“It seems I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You concede, trying to stabilize your shaky voice.
Clutching your coffee in your hand, you move to walk away from him when his warm hand encloses around yours, the hardened gaze he had kept focused on you softening as he caught sight of the tears pooling in your eyes.
“(Y/N)…”
Ripping your hand away from him, you shoot daggers towards him as you walk towards the door.
“I’m taking a walk,” you spat, voice quivering with emotion. “Don’t come after me.”
With that, you’re storming out of his office, making sure to slam the door behind you.
Hot tears are spilling over your cheeks as you frantically press the elevator button, your head hung low as you try to mask the sight of you crying as you wait for the doors to open, your body trembling with angry sobs as you bite them back, gritting your teeth in anger as the elevator dings. Stepping inside, you turn to face the lobby and catch the sight of a concerned Mingyu watching you as you press the close button.
As soon as the doors closed and you’re heading down, you’re pulling your phone from your pocket and dialing Soonyoung’s number, the blonde almost immediately answering the FaceTime call with a shocked look on his face.
“(Y/N), honey? What’s going on?”
His caring tone draws a fresh batch of tears in your eyes as you step outside of the elevator and walk into the lobby, making a beeline for the bathroom as you lock yourself in a stall. Defeated sobs wrack your body as you try to catch your breath.
“Soonie,” you cried, hastily wiping your tears. “I’m sorry I’m calling you like this.”
Soonyoung shakes his head, concern in his eyes as he stares back at you through the screen.
“Don’t apologize baby,” he reassured, softly. “We’ve all had bad days.”
Wiping your nose, you sniffle quietly as you nod, acknowledging his words.
“What happened, honey?”
“I think I’m going to have to miss out on your birthday, Soonie,” you say quietly, making Soonyoung whine.
“What?! Why?!”
“That big presentation that wasn’t due for two more weeks got pushed up to this Friday instead.”
“Oh, what the fuck?!” He groaned. “Aren’t you supposed to be off anyways?”
A bitter laugh escapes you at that, your teeth gritting together in anger as you nod.
“Keyword is supposed to,” you bite out, rolling your eyes. “But my boss said that I now have to come in. Actually — he pretty much said that I’m not entitled to a personal life.”
Soonyoung’s mouth opens in shock at that, his eyes widening.
“Are you fucking serious?” He asks, flabbergasted.
“I wish I wasn’t,” you affirm, sadly. “He said that since I’m his assistant – anywhere he is, I have to be right next to him. Plans or no plans, off of work or not.”
The blonde scoffs, eyes narrowing into a glare.
“That’s bullshit,” he spat, and you can’t help but to laugh without humor.
“Yeah,” you muttered. “I said the same thing.”
You watch as Soonyoung purses his lips in thoughts, a hopeful look crossing his features as he looks at you through the phone.
“The presentation shouldn’t take that long, right?” He asks. “Like you can skip the dinner and then just meet us right at the club instead!”
Your sullen expression morphs into a hopeful one as you consider his words, your head slowly nodding in acknowledgement as you offer the blonde a bright smile.
“Yeah,” you agreed. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” he teases, making you scoff playfully.
“Whatever you say, Soonie,” you jest, making him laugh. “I should get back upstairs…”
Soonyoung smiles at you through the phone, offering you a gesture of encouragement as he grins.
“Deep breaths, honey!” He chimes. “Don’t let that asshole get to you.”
Smiling at him, you both exchange your goodbye before hanging up. A heavy sigh escapes you as you take a deep breath to compose yourself once more before unlocking the stall and walking to the sink. The pitiful expression that rested on your features made you want to sink down to the floor in embarrassment, your gaze flickering over the mascara that had streaked your cheeks from the waterfall of tears. Grumbling to yourself, you reach for some paper towels before wetting it under the sink and cleaning off the remnants of your breakdown, mentally cursing Wonwoo into oblivion.
Once you were set, you took an extra minute to collect your thoughts, trying to settle your still enraged mind as you made a silent vow to ignore the man you called your boss for the remainder of the week.
Should be easy, right?
Wrong.
With the silent vow in place, you had walked into the office the next day with every intention of ignoring him.
Until you catch sight of the vase of roses that sat on your desk.
The beautiful red petals bloomed in the crystal casing, the fragrance filling your senses as you leaned down to smell them. A solemn expression crosses your features as you pluck the card from between the petals, lips pursing in thought as you stare down at the writing.
‘I can’t do this without you.’
Your heart feels like it’s tearing at the seams as you look down at his handwriting, the messy scrawl of his admittance sending your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, and you’re peering into his opened office door to see his sharp gaze awaiting your reaction. The gesture was sweet, sure, but you were also human – a human with feelings and a life. So instead of thanking him, you’re pushing away those damned butterflies and turning your head away from him as you silently set up your desk.
You didn’t look back at him once.
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Despite other numerous attempts to gain your attention, you had successfully managed to give Wonwoo radio silence until it came time to get the presentation together. And, even then, you still sat tight-lipped as he and Mingyu went over the details of what’s to come within the next few hours as the three of you awaited Seungcheol’s arrival.
Your pen glides over your notepad as you jot down last minute ideas and thoughts, your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth in concentration as you work quietly at the table. From the left of you, Mingyu types away at his laptop, quietly cursing at the powerpoint in front of him as he fixes the last minute details. To the right of you, you can already feel the pointed gaze in your direction from your boss as he sits silently beside the two of you, sharp eyes lingering on both yours and Mingyu’s forms as the two of you work diligently.
Wonwoo purses his lips, trying to bite back the amusement as he looks over at you two.
“I think this is the hardest I’ve ever seen you two work.”
Simultaneously, yours and Mingyu’s heads snap over to look at your boss, your eyes narrowed in an accusing glare while Mingyu’s twinkle with humor.
“We wouldn’t be working so hard if you hadn’t agreed to pushing up this damned meeting.”
Your voice comes out harsher than you intend to, but it doesn’t deter Wonwoo one bit.
“Ah,” he smirks. “She speaks.”
A menacing glare is shot towards him as you scoot your chair closer to Mingyu, trying to shift your attention back towards your notes, but you’re frozen in shock as Wonwoo grabs the back of your chair to slide you back closer to his side, sharp eyes gazing sadly at you.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, and you hear Mingyu cough awkwardly, trying not to watch the two of you as he types away at his laptop. “(Y/N), please.”
As much as you wanted to make him grovel a bit longer, you knew from the gifts and gestures he’d been giving you the past two days had been enough of an apology. So, reluctantly, you’re lifting your eyes to meet his brown ones, your breath catching in your throat as you hold his softened gaze. You can feel the butterflies begin to awaken in the pit of your stomach as your heart sped up in your chest, lips parting slightly as you stared at the devastatingly handsome man.
Reaching over, he’s gently grabbing your hand in his, all the while keeping his eyes on you.
“I’m sorry for making you come in on your day off,” he apologized, quietly. “I’m sorry for never giving you one to begin with.”
Wonwoo’s teeth grit as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his thumb gently soothes over the back of your hand.
“And I’m sorry for making you miss your… date.”
Date..? Oh – oh.
Your hardened gaze softens into one of understanding and you’re offering your boss a small smile, your hand turning in his as you clutch it.
“I forgive you,” you relent, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “And - I, uh, didn’t actually have a date.”
From out of the corner of your eye you see Mingyu’s head snap towards you, eyes wide as he looks between you and Wonwoo. The latter keeps his gaze on yours, the corners of his lips quivering ever so slightly as his sharp eyes trace for any sort of fabrication he can find. And then he laughs – a full, throwing his head back and cackling kind of laugh. One that sends your heart into overdrive as he grins widely.
“So you just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet by yourself?” He asks, teasingly.
“No,” you deny, frowning. “I really did have plans, or rather, I still do after this. I’m going out for my friend’s birthday.”
Wonwoo’s eyes shine playfully as he pats your hand.
“It’s okay,” he grins. “As long as you forgive me and we get this presentation over and done with, you’ll be out of here in no time.”
As Wonwoo finishes speaking, the conference door all but flies open, a mass of blonde hair and a dimpled smile coming into view as Seungcheol walks through the door. The three of you stand simultaneously, nervous but warm smiles plastered on your faces as you greet the businessman. Wonwoo stands glued to the spot next to you as you watch Seungcheol greet Mingyu, the two shaking hands as they joke amongst themselves. It’s then that the severity and importance of this meeting finally hits you, your palms growing clammy with nerves as your brain clutters with what ifs and possible negative outcomes if everything fails between the two companies.
From behind you, Wonwoo must’ve noticed the sudden tension in your stature as he leans forward, a gentle hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leans in to brush his lips against your ear.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, his other hand reaching to squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s going to be fine.”
Yet the warmth of his breath and the close proximity of his body pressing to yours as his cologne fills your senses does absolutely nothing to help your nerves. You squeeze his hand back in silent acknowledgement before dropping it as Seungcheol rounds on you, a bright smile on the blonde’s face as he offers you a hand.
“Ms. (Y/N),” he greets, beaming. “It’s always lovely to see you, beautiful.”
You can feel Wonwoo tense at the compliment and you fight the urge to rip your hand from his as you shake it, a tight-lipped smile being sent his way as he bowed your head.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Choi,” you greet. Seungcheol’s gaze falls between you and the man standing behind you, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
“Wonwoo you have yourself a dime here,” he compliments, smirking. “She has been nothing but amazing when it comes to the communication aspect. Not to mention she’s brilliant.”
Wonwoo keeps his hand on the small of your back while his other is outstretched towards his friend, the two shaking hands with a fierce grip as Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at the blonde.
“That she is,” he agreed. “I’m lucky to have her.”
Heat floods your cheeks at the competitive compliments between the two businessmen, a pleading look that screams ‘Help me’ is being sent towards Mingyu who stands behind Seungcheol with a puppy-like grin at the exchange, the taller man laughing quietly at your expense. Rolling your eyes, you break the silent competition between the two CEOs as you gesture towards the table.
“Shall we get started?”
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Five hours. The presentation lasted for five fucking hours.
Between the glitches happening within the powerpoint and the constant stutter of your voice, you were positive that Seungcheol was going to stop the three of you halfway and just walk out – but he didn’t. Instead the blonde sat with a grin of amusement as you and Mingyu presented the possible numbers and outcomes of the two companies coming together for the project. Wonwoo sat stoic beside him, sharp eyes glued to you as you closed out of the final slide, anxiously awaiting his friend’s response as you clasped your hands together behind your back.
Seungcheol is beaming at you, dimples protruding from his cheeks, and he’s turning towards Wonwoo as he points in your direction.
“I like her,” he begins. “She’s got a strong head on her shoulders.”
Turning back towards you, Seungcheol leans on his elbows as he gestures towards the presentation.
“Despite the small hiccups from the technology, you did great, (Y/N),” he continues, praising you. “Both you and Mingyu did so well putting all of this together. I appreciate the dedication and hard work you’ve done for this, truly. Both of you would be an incredible asset to my company and I would absolutely be a fool to turn down the offer of working with both my friend and his amazing team.”
Surprise floods your features as you and Mingyu shoot each other identical looks of shock.
“Is – is that a yes for the project?”
Seungcheol laughs, nodding his head in affirmation.
“That’s a definite yes,” he beams. “It was a yes from the very first email you had sent me, if I’m honest. I just wanted to see what ideas you all had in mind – and I wanted to see this one sweat it out a little bit.”
You stifle a laugh as the blonde points to the stoic man behind him, Wonwoo grumbling under his breath as he rolls his eyes at his friend.
“So you just wanted to see me suffer?” Wonwoo asks, no emotion in his voice.
“Pretty much,” Seungcheol beams with amusement.
Wonwoo shakes his head as he stands up from his chair, his broad stature cracking with the release of tension as he stretches from sitting for so long.
“That’ll be it for today,” he dismisses, shooting Seungcheol a pointed look. “I think we’ve all been tortured enough.”
A wave of relief washes over you as your shoulders slump slightly, the tension being released from your body as you clean up the remnants of the presentation. From beside you, Mingyu is shooting you a thumbs up, silently praising your efforts before he’s packing up his laptop and zooming out of the room. As you zip up your bag and turn to leave, Seungcheol is gently grabbing your wrist to stop you, a playful look in his eyes as he offers you a small smile.
“You’re an extraordinary woman, Ms. (Y/N),” he compliments, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you fight to keep eye contact. “I have half a mind to steal you from Wonwoo and make you my own assistant.”
You open your mouth to retort when you feel the warmth of your boss press behind you, and you don’t even have to look up at him to know that he’s glaring daggers at the blonde.
“She would never leave me,” he dismisses, voice cold. “If there’s one thing I admire the most about Ms. (Y/N), it’s that she’s loyal to those around her.”
Wonwoo never breaks eye contact with Seungcheol, the two glaring daggers at one another as they stand tall and proud.
“Right, sweetheart?”
You swallow thickly, rolling your eyes at the ego exchange between the two of them, and you playfully hit Wonwoo’s shoulder before grabbing your things.
“Both of you need to relax,” you jest, playfully. “Mr. Choi, I appreciate the compliment but I fear that this one needs me the most.”
Seungcheol smirks at that, a knowing look in his eyes as he looks between you and Wonwoo.
“I’m starting to see that,” he responds, coolly.
Wonwoo stays silent as you make your way to the door, a weary glance thrown between the two of them before you’re opening it with a call over your shoulder.
“Try not to let your ego’s get the best of the two of you while I’m gone, please.”
And with that, you’re out the door before you can see Seungcheol wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at Wonwoo, the latter sending a glare of warning at the blonde who now caught on to the situation.
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“(Y/N)!”
Your gaze lands on a beaming Soonyoung as you make your way through the crowd of bodies, a matching grin dancing across your lips as you reach where he stood. His arm lazily drapes around your shoulder in a half hug, the man’s infectious giggle ringing over the blaring music. Returning the embrace, you hug him in greeting before breaking apart. You can feel your friend vibrating with excitement as he grabs your hand and pulls you over to the roped off section where the rest of your friends were occupying. As soon as you cross the threshold, there’s a glass of champagne being placed in your hand and Soonyoung is tugging you towards the group.
“Look who finally showed up!”
Happy cheers of your name echoes amongst your group of friends, glasses being lifted in your direction as they greet you in unison. Lifting your glass in response, you beam at the group before downing the glass, warmth filling your body from the alcohol. From beside you Soonyoung cheers as you chug, the man wasting no time before shoving another drink into your now empty hand before scurrying off to the others. A chuckle falls from you as you watch him pull a half wasted Dokyeom to the dance floor, Seungkwan hot on their heels as the trio pulls out an abrupt dance routine.
Shaking your head at their antics, you take a seat next to Joshua at the table, the man offering you a gentle smile as he scoots to make room.
“It’s good to see you, (Y/N),” he greets. “It’s been too long since the last time you’ve come out with us.”
“I know,” you agree, regret washing over your features. “Work has been crazy lately. I haven’t really had much time to do anything else besides be at the office or trying to get some sleep.”
A look of sympathy flashes in his eyes, Joshua nodding in understanding.
“I get it,” he reassured you with a bright smile. “It sucks being an adult sometimes, doesn’t it?”
You laugh at his words before taking a sip of whatever it was that Soonyoung had given you.
“That it does, Shua. I sometimes wish we were kids again without a care in the world. No bills, no schedules — nothing but free time to do whatever we want.”
“Or until we get caught drinking in the school parking lot at midnight,” he points out, laughing.
“That’s different!” You say, taking another sip of your drink. “We would’ve never gotten caught had Soonyoung not brought out the Bluetooth microphone and started singing.”
Joshua’s head rolls back as he laughs louder, shaking his head at the memory.
“He really tried to get the cops to fall for his serenade,” he chortled. “We almost got locked in a cell for that one had it not been for me.”
You smile at the memory, gently tapping your glass against Shua’s.
“Thank god one of us had a brain that night,” you grin. “Otherwise we would’ve been screwed.”
Amusement twinkles in Joshua’s eyes and the brunette opens his mouth to speak before his gaze falls on a figure behind you, a deep voice cutting off his train of thought.
“Sorry we’re late, everyone.”
Your hand tightens around your glass at the voice, eyes widening in shock as your head snaps to look at the two figures towering over your table. The two familiar faces are night and day; one stands with a beaming smile, eyes shining and body bouncing to the beat of the music like an energetic puppy. The other is stoic, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks while a pointed gaze rests underneath the thick rims of his glasses, his intense gaze sweeping over the group until it lands on your shocked ones.
Your lips part in disbelief, a string of curses tumbling incoherently from your mouth, and you straighten your posture as your boss stares back at you, dark eyes glinting with curiosity.
“You made it!”
Soonyoung’s boisterous voice booms over the loud music, the blonde drunkenly placing a glass of champagne in each of their hands before wrapping both of his arms around their shoulders and hugging them into him. From his right, Mingyu laughs boisterously, leaning into the embrace as he hugs his friend back.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologized. “We were finishing up at the office.”
From the left of Soonyoung, Wonwoo stays silent, his piercing gaze locked on yours, and you catch the briefest sight of his jaw clenching as Soonyoung gestures towards you.
���I’m not sure if you’ve ever met her before,” he begins, beaming from ear to ear. “But this is (Y/N), my best friend since we were in diapers.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, the beat echoing in your ears and drowning out the music as you stare at your colleagues. Mingyu’s face falls into pleasant surprise before he’s letting out a laugh, muscular arms crossing over his broad stature.
“Small world,” he comments, shooting a look between you and your boss. Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a weary glance swept over the three of you.
“What do you mean?” The blonde asks curiously.
The scrutinizing gaze of your boss has you wanting to sink into the cushions of the booth and disappear, heat flaming your cheeks as the already too tight dress you were wearing somehow feels as if it’s melting into your skin, and you try to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat as Mingyu spoke once more.
“We work together,” he clarifies, a knowing smirk on his face. “She’s Wonwoo’s assistant.”
There’s a brief pause, realization sinking into Soonyoung’s features, before he’s turning towards the man on his left and smacking him on the shoulder.
“You’re her boss?!” He asks incredulously. “You’re the asshole who’s never giving her time off for a personal life?!”
Your eyes widened at his words, hands raising in defense as you move to kick Soonyoung in the shin.
“Soonyoung,” you hiss, glaring at the blonde.
Mingyu howls with laughter at that, his tall frame doubling over as he laughs at his friend. You’re mentally cursing at Soonyoung three times over as Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line, the man sending a look of disapproval towards Mingyu who was holding his body up against Soonyoung, trying to calm himself down from the amusement. Your body grows hot with embarrassment as you run a hand over your face, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up.
“Yes,” Wonwoo finally says, deep voice rumbling with no amusement. “I’m the asshole boss.”
Soonyoung lands another playful tap against his friend’s chest, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“Give her a break, Wonu. She needs a vacation,” he pauses, looking between the two of you. “You both do.”
With one last love tap from Soonyoung, the blonde all but bounces back to the dance floor, Mingyu and Joshua in tow – leaving you and Wonwoo alone.
The tension in the air makes your throat dry, your shoulders sinking in embarrassment as you offer your boss an apologetic look.
“Mr. Jeon –”
“Your asshole boss, huh?”
Wonwoo’s harsh tone makes you want to crawl under a rock, shame filling your body, and your gaze sinks to the floor as you guiltily break eye contact.
‘He’s gonna fire me…’ You thought to yourself, trying to keep the panic that was seeping through your body at bay. ‘He’s going to tell me to pack my desk up and to never step foot into the building after tomorrow. That he’ll find a better assistant - one more compliant and who doesn’t talk back. Someone who says yes with no questions asked –’
“I suppose I deserve that.” Your head snaps back up, eyes wide with surprise, and there’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, brown eyes glinting in amusement. “Especially after all I’ve put you through this week.”
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, completely taken aback by the compliment, and you struggle to conjure a reply in your scattered brain as you stutter in response.
“I –” you flush, embarrassed at the lack of words you can conjure. “Mr. Jeon –”
“Wonwoo,” he corrects.
There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he takes a step closer to slide across from where you sat in the booth.
“At the office, I’m Mr. Jeon,” he smiles softly. “But when we’re outside of work or if it’s just you and I, it’s Wonwoo.”
Oh, fuck…
There’s heat pooling in your stomach at his words, thousands of tiny butterflies fluttering in its depths, and suddenly it’s a thousand degrees hotter in the club than it already was. Your palms are clammy, sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and you manage to send him back a small smile as you nod in acknowledgement.
“Okay,” you concede, lifting your glass to take a sip. “Wonwoo.”
There’s a sharp inhale on his end, broad shoulders stiffening for a millisecond, before he offers you a kind smile. You watch as he takes a sip of his champagne, his gaze never breaking from yours.
“So you’re the unfortunate one who’s had to deal with Soonyoung for all of these years,” he smirks, teasingly. You can’t help but to laugh at that before shaking your head at his words.
“He’s really not as bad as you think,” you defend. “In a way it’s almost as if I’m taking care of a child.”
A beautiful, melodic deep rumble escapes him and you’d be lying if you said that the low timbre of his voice didn’t send a wave of heat straight in between your legs, instinctively making you subtly shift to crossing them underneath the table.
“Perhaps that is enough reason to offer a compensation for your efforts,” he drawls. “Maybe even a raise.”
You quirk an eyebrow at that, sending the man a playful glare.
“Don’t tease me,” you warn, grinning. “I might just take you up on that.”
Wonwoo smirks, butterflies erupting in your stomach as your eyes glanced down at his lips. A wave of desire rushes through you as a fleeting thought of what they would feel like against your skin runs through your mind, your throat going dry as an image of you and Wonwoo tangled in bedsheets flashed in your mind. Immediately you’re clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away, shame flaming your cheeks as you take a sip from your drink.
“How do you know Soonyoung?” You ask, making Wonwoo smile at the question.
“I had a project with his father in the past,” he explains. “Soonyoung was just starting out as his assistant and was learning the ropes of his father’s company. Naturally, I took him under my wing and became his business mentor. I know how hard it is to work in a company that’s family owned. Our fathers don’t go easy on us despite us being their sons.”
“From what it sounds like,” you began, smirking at him. “It seems to me as if you also need to be compensated as well for your efforts.”
Wonwoo laughs, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly as he leans forward.
“Maybe Soonyoung’s right,” he grins. “Maybe we both need a vacation.”
Your eyebrow quirks at that, eyes glinting in curiosity as you peer at him.
“Are you offering me time off?”
“Maybe someday,” he teases, eyes shining mischievously. “The best I can offer you right now is a dance with me.”
Your breath catches in your throat, and the butterflies take flight once more, your eyes widening in surprise before you catch yourself. Clearing your throat, you take another sip of your drink before looking up at him teasingly.
“I didn’t realize you danced,” you jest.
Wonwoo pushes himself out of the booth before holding his hand out to you, silently offering. The warmth of his hand enveloping yours has electric shocks running down your spine as he helps you up, his hand cautiously placed on the small of your back as he leaned down towards you.
“I usually don’t,” he affirmed, a wild glint in his eye as he leaned closer to your ear. “But I can make an exception when it involves certain people.”
Had he not been guiding you, you were pretty sure your knees would’ve buckled from his comment, heat flooding your cheeks as you let him move you towards the dance floor. Playful banter and teasing comments had always been a part of the dynamic, given the frequent amount of time the two of you were around each other, harmless flirting here and there wasn’t unnatural. But this is the first time you were seeing him – that you were really looking at him – outside of an office setting.
The normal Wonwoo who was holed up in his office all day; barking orders and commands to his staff, the man who gives you endless tasks left and right, the man who sat rigidly by your side in countless board meetings and projects. The man who you thought was nothing but a ball of stress stuffed in a business suit now stood in front of you with nothing holding him back as he pulled your body flush against his. He’s carefree, a warm glow in his eyes, and he’s offering you the sweetest smile as the pair of you settle within the crowd. The usual long sleeves of his button down are rolled up neatly to his elbow, his broad frame nearly making the buttons protrude from the seams, and you’re silently wishing the heavens above to give you even the slightest peek of toned skin beneath the fabric.
His hand rests comfortably on your lower back, slender fingers almost gripping the fabric of your dress as the two of you danced amongst the crowd of people. The dim lighting casts his face in an exquisite shadow, the defined angular shape of his jaw accentuated in the low lights, making his sharp features appear even more striking beneath the thick rims of his glasses. He’s beautiful, almost godly like, and the heat of his toned body against yours is making your head spin.
For the first time, you’re seeing him.
Your hand is clasped in his as he twirls you out, then back into him, a devastatingly beautiful smile painted on his lips replacing the usual scowl he wore in the office. You can’t help but to mirror him, beaming in delight as the two of you dance.
“Who would’ve thought Mr. Jeon Wonwoo, big bad CEO, would be such a great dancer,” you tease him, relishing in the low rumble of his laugh. You watch as his nose crinkles with the action, your heart blooming in your chest as he leans in closer towards you.
“That’s not all I’m good at.”
If his words weren’t enough to send a flood of heat through your body, it was the goddamn wink he sent you that did it. You can’t even articulate words as Soonyoung beckons the two of you over to dance with the group, Wonwoo reluctantly letting you go as the two of you made your way over to them.
You weren’t sure when the exact moment was that the line between you and your boss had begun to shift into something else, something far beyond a workplace partnership — but after tonight, it was an inevitable change.
And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to see where it went next.
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You felt the presence before they had even uttered a word, your gaze shifting from your computer to the smirking face of the man in front of you as he leaned against your desk.
“So,” he began. “Are we going to talk about it?”
You gave him a blank stare.
“Talk about what?” You asked, even though you knew what he was hinting at.
“C’mon, (Y/N),” Mingyu whines, standing upright to bounce on his feet. “We can’t not talk about what happened the other night.”
You purse your lips at his words as you rub your temples in annoyance. You knew you couldn’t avoid the situation in its entirety, but you also knew that addressing it would imply that there was something… there to begin with — and there wasn’t. At least, not yet.
“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly. “I was out with friends.”
Mingyu scoffs, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gives you an incredulous look.
“So we’re not going to talk about how the two of you were practically fucking on the dance floor.”
You blanched at that, eyes widening in surprise, and you’re casting a weary glance towards the open door behind you. Wonwoo sits idly in concentration at his desk, the man scribbling something down on his notepad.
“Lower your voice,” you hissed at Mingyu once you turned back towards him. “He’s right there.”
“You didn’t deny it,” Mingyu beams.
“We were just dancing!” You defended. “It was harmless. And innocent, contrary to popular belief.”
“Innocent?” He mocks, raising an eyebrow. “He doesn’t just dance with anyone, (Y/N). Especially not like that.”
You try to ignore the sudden presence of fluttering in the pit of your stomach, the butterflies flying freely through your body as your mind flashes back to the dance you had shared with your boss. The warmth of his body against yours, the gentle brush of his lips against your ear, the teasing words exchanged… It had all been too much to process in one night — and, yet in the same breath, not enough.
“Well whether it was or not, nothing’s going to come from it. Nothing can come from it.”
A look of sympathy flashes across Mingyu’s face at that, his round eyes narrowing with pity.
“You never know,” he reassured with a gentle smile. “There’s always a chance that something could happen.”
You scoff at that, rolling your eyes as you turn back to your computer.
“Not as long as he’s my boss,” you muttered.
Mingyu opened his mouth to retort when a throat clears from behind the two of you. Almost immediately you’re whipping around to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe of his office, an accusing glance being thrown towards you and Mingyu as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Is there a problem?”
Wonwoo’s voice is harsh, sharp eyes shifting between the two of you before he’s zeroing in on your gaze. His shoulders are straightened in a tension and you bite back a whimper as you watch the taut muscles of his chest strain against the confinements of his button down.
“N- no, sir,” you stuttered out, shaking your head. “Mingyu just had a question regarding the merger with Mr. Choi.”
Wonwoo’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his gaze shifts to Mingyu, the aforementioned man peeling himself from your desk as he straightens his posture.
“That’s right,” Mingyu agrees. “I had a quest —“
“The next time you have a question about anything regarding business matters you come see me,” Wonwoo cuts him off with a harsh glare. “Ms. (Y/N) has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need you bothering her too. Nor do I appreciate you distracting her from her work.”
There’s a brief flash of shock dancing across Mingyu’s face, his big eyes widening at his friend’s words, before realization takes its place and he’s grinning like a kid in a candy shop.
“Oh,” he beams. “I get it.”
Wonwoo’s eyes narrow in a scrutinizing gaze while you stare at your boss, mouth slightly ajar from his earlier statement.
“Mr. Jeon it’s really not a big deal —“
“You’re dismissed, Mingyu. (Y/N), my office. Now.”
The contrast between the Wonwoo you had seen at the club compared to the one that was in front of you now was like night and day. The other night he had been carefree, lively, and sweet. The man that stood in front of you now was cold. The playful twinkle in his eyes had completely vanished, instead, replaced by a harsh glare as he all but stomped back into his office.
You’re completely ridden speechless as you watch your boss’s retreating form, a painful tug at your heartstrings has a frown forming on your lips.
Mingyu lets out a low whistle.
“I seem to have awakened the beast.”
Your head snaps back to look at his smirking face, a knowing glint in his eyes as he nods his head in the direction of Wonwoo’s office.
“Maybe true love’s kiss can melt his cold heart.”
Without thinking you’re reaching for your pen before chucking it in Mingyu’s direction, a bark of a laugh escaping him as he’s running away. Grumbling under your breath, you make a mental note to get him back later when a shout comes from behind you.
“(Y/N)!”
Your blood runs cold at the harsh call of your name, worry flooding your body as you hastily push yourself from your desk to make your way to Wonwoo’s office, panic running through you as you cross the threshold.
“Close the door behind you,” he orders, head nodding in the direction of the door, and you’re on high alert as the open barrier becomes sealed, leaving the two of you in his office. Alone.
Nervously you’re taking a seat in front of him, your ankles crossing as you sit with your shoulders tensed up. Wonwoo’s stare makes you want to curl up into a ball and hide, the intensity of his gaze sending goosebumps of anxiety up the nape of your neck.
Wonwoo inhales a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he exhales, and he’s gritting his jaw as his hands fold in front of him on his desk.
“Is Mingyu bothering you?”
Confusion sweeps over you as your eyebrows furrow.
“Bothering me?” You ask, and you watch as Wonwoo’s knuckles turn white from clenching his hands together.
“Bothering you,” he says again. “Flirting with you? Asking you on dates? All of the above?”
Your eyes widen at his questions, your hands coming up in defense as you shake your head.
“No!” You deny. “None of the above. Absolutely none of the above.”
There’s a slight release of tension in his shoulders but his stoic face remains the same.
“If he was you would tell me, right?” He asks, giving you a pointed look.
“Of course,” you affirm. “If anyone was bothering me I would let you know.”
Wonwoo’s gaze stays locked on you as he digests your words, the man slowly unclenching his hands before he nods in response.
“Good,” he relents. “I wouldn’t want to lose one of my best employee’s because he doesn’t know how to control himself.”
You can feel the heat dance across your cheeks at his implication, embarrassment filling your body as you sink into the chair further.
“It’s never been like that,” you reassure him. “Only friendly banter.”
Wonwoo nods, accepting your words.
“I believe you,” he reaffirmed.
A tense silence falls over the two of you, the air thickening around you as you swallow the nervous lump that had formed in your throat from when he had called you into his office. His intense stare has you breaking eye contact in an effort to gain your composure, a ragged breath escaping you as your gaze zeroes into a random plank of wood on his floor.
“Is that all you needed from me?” You ask meekly, not lifting your head to look at him.
There’s a brief silence before Wonwoo responds.
“How’s the project going?”
Right… the project, of course.
Straightening your posture, you reluctantly lifted your head from the floor and met Wonwoo’s gaze once more. Those damned butterflies return instantly when you see the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile.
“Good,” you breathed out. “I’m finishing up the presentation for our next monthly board meeting. We’ve been making a lot of progress since we met up with Mr. Choi —“
“Have you eaten yet?” Wonwoo cuts you off, making your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden question.
“Not yet,” you respond. “I was planning to work on a few more things before I took a break.”
“You should join me for lunch,” he offers a gentle smile, a complete contrast to the frown he had when you had first walked into the office.
“I — I have so much to do, Mr. Jeon —“
“I’m sure it can wait,” he reassures you. “Besides, you can’t work on an empty stomach.”
Pushing himself away from his desk, Wonwoo stands up and throws his blazer on as he nods his head in the direction of the door.
“As your boss, I’m requesting that you have lunch with me.”
You frown at that.
“That’s not fair,” you mutter. “You know I can’t say no to you.”
“Precisely,” Wonwoo grins as he helps you up from the chair.
Your lips pursed in thought as you stared at the man before you. Not even ten minutes ago he was a huffing and puffing mess, anger flaring in his cold dark eyes. Now he stood in front of you with that same mischievous glint in his irises like the other night. The constant back and forth between his emotions is giving you a metaphorical whiplash.
“Fine,” you concede. “But you’re buying.”
Wonwoo doesn’t smirk in response, nor does he wave you off. Instead he’s tipping his head back and letting out a hearty laugh, the deep rumble making your heart pound in your chest as you stare dumbfoundedly at the man in front of you.
“I can work with that,” he agreed, beaming. “We can discuss more about this presentation as well.”
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The dimly lit restaurant you’re taken to does nothing to rid you of the untamable butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach as you sit across from Wonwoo. You can feel the nervous jitters in your body as you try not to tremble beneath your boss’s gaze while you try to keep your attention focused on the menu, your teeth biting into your bottom lip as you stoically stare at the page.
The romantic ambience of the restaurant is telling of itself; low lighting, soft music playing, and a waiter filling a glass of wine for you — a glass of which Wonwoo approved for you to drink despite you being on the clock. A drink which, also, did absolutely nothing for your nerves.
“See anything you like?”
Wonwoo’s deep voice pulls you from your inner turmoil and you’re reluctantly breaking your gaze from the menu to look up at him. His glasses are perched comfortably on the bridge of his nose, his lips offering a gentle smile, a smile that you can’t help but to let your gaze fall on as you stare at the curve of his Cupid’s bow.
“A few things,” you murmur, nodding at him. “There’s so many options.”
“Well,” he pauses, gesturing towards the menu. “If you trust me, I’ll order for us.”
Your eyebrow piques in interest at that, a teasing look dancing in your eyes.
“Yeah?” You muse, humming softly. “You think you know me that well?”
Wonwoo smirks as he places his menu down, his sharp eyes giving you a once over that sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.
“I’d like to think so,” he responds, giving you a knowing look.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you give him a playful look back as you lean against the cushion of the chair.
“What’s my favorite color?” You ask.
His smirk doesn’t falter at your question.
“Purple,” he answers. “More specifically, a light purple. Like lilac or lavender.”
You blanched at that, not expecting him to actually answer, let alone know the answer.
“Oh,” you said quietly, blinking in surprise.
“You mentioned to me once that the colors represent kindness and innocence. Two things which you felt represented both yourself and what you wanted people to gain from you.”
Your heart soared in your chest at his words, a feeling of gratitude sweeping over you as you offered him a shy smile.
“You remembered,” you murmured, making Wonwoo smile in response.
“I remember a lot of things about you.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. His response had rendered you speechless and you were utterly grateful for the waiter’s timing as he came back to your table to take your orders — which Wonwoo took care of. You could barely register what was exchanged between the two as you stared at your boss in admiration, completely melting on the spot from his response.
Your eyes are still locked on the beautiful man in front of you as the waiter takes both of the menus, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage as the two of you are left alone once more. The flickering flame of the candle casts a shadow along Wonwoo’s face, the dim lighting accentuating his strong jaw and sharp eyes as he leans forward on his elbows.
Blinking out of your daze, you swallow the lump of nervousness before clearing your throat.
“So the project is going well,” you began, taking a sip of your wine. “Mingyu has been working on the potential projections of the outcome and I’ve got the PowerPoint almost finished. We’re a little past the halfway point now.”
Wonwoo says nothing. He only offers you a small smile in response.
“I think we can really pull this off,” you continued. “Between your brilliant business mind and Mr. Choi’s ability to persuade pretty much anyone, the two of you are in the midst of creating something amazing.”
There’s a mischievous glint in Wonwoo’s eyes as he looks at you, the smile on his face not faltering once.
“You think I’m brilliant?”
You flush at his words before shifting nervously in your seat, lifting your glass of wine to your lips as you take another sip.
“I mean,” you purse your lips, giving him a knowing look. “You wouldn’t be the CEO if you weren’t.”
You spot the slightest clench in his jaw as his soft features harden at your words.
“I’m the CEO because my father stepped down,” he pointed out. You frown at that.
“Mr. Jeon —“
“Wonwoo,” he cuts you off sharply.
His brash tone deters you for a moment, hurt flashing in your eyes before you mask it with confusion.
“What?” You ask meekly.
“Do you remember what I said at the club?” He asks, the harsh tone still evident in his voice. “Do you remember anything from that night?”
“Of course I do,” you defended yourself. “I wasn’t even tipsy.”
Wonwoo’s jaw sets as he grits his teeth.
“Then you should remember that I said to call me by name when we’re alone.”
And just like that the butterflies are back with a vengeance — only to multiply tenfold when he leans across the table to grab your hand in his, lacing your fingers together before resting it back onto the table.
“Wonwoo…”
His name falls from your lips in a hushed voice, heat pooling in your stomach as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.
“You’re nervous,” he points out, smirking. You frown at that.
“Can you blame me?” You ask incredulously, gesturing towards your linked hands. “I’m holding hands with my boss.”
“You’re holding hands with your friend,” he corrects. “A friend who just so happens to be your boss. A boss that you’re also on a date with.”
Your mouth slacks at that, eyes widening in shock as you make a move to draw back only for him to tighten his grip so you can’t move away from him. His thumb sweeps over the back of your hand in an effort to soothe you but it only makes the heat in your belly spread to your lower body, your thighs clenching in response as you look away bashfully.
“I thought this was a business lunch,” you mutter, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Wonwoo lets out a low chuckle.
“Did you not want this to be a date?”
Your face falls at that.
“It’s not that I don’t want this to be a date,” you reassure him. “It’s that… this can’t be a date.”
“And why not?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. You blink at him.
“You’re my boss,” you reiterate. “Whether we’re friends outside of work or not you’re still my boss, Wonwoo.”
Wonwoo stares back with a blank look on his face.
“I fail to see your point, (Y/N).”
Before you could reply, the waiter had returned with both of your plates of food, placing them in front of each of you before refilling your wine glass. Wonwoo’s sharp gaze is still locked on yours, his grip on your hand refusing to let go, and he watches intently as you take a long swig of the alcohol. Your nerves are completely shot, mind going haywire from the conversation, and the wine is only intensifying the heat between your legs as you try to collect yourself.
And then he’s bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. Your breath hitches and Wonwoo catches it, smirking in response.
“Eat your food, sweetheart. It’s going to get cold.”
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The bustling diner is thriving with patrons as you sit with Soonyoung and Joshua in a booth at the corner of the room, the two of them engaging in an animated conversation as you sit idly across from them, your mind completely far off from where you were currently at.
Ever since the night of Soonyoung’s party it’s like your world has been flipped upside down and spinning on its axis. Wonwoo has gotten more brazen in his advances; leaving you flowers on your desk, buying you lunch, fleeting touches of hands brushing as you pass each other in the hallway. The actions are subtle, most of the other employee’s not seeming to catch onto the attraction between the two of you, all except Mingyu who has decided to make it his life mission to get the two of you together.
After finding out that Wonwoo had taken you out to lunch (and called it a date) or much less, finding out that his boss had subtly confessed his feelings to you, he’s taken it upon himself to play Cupid — much to your dismay. Because even though your feelings for Wonwoo were strong, and grew more and more with each romantic gesture, the fact of the matter is, he's still your boss.
A heavy sigh breaks your friends from their conversation, two pairs of concerned eyes looking at you from across the table. Joshua frowns, Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow. The former leans across the table to place a gentle hand on yours, and a part of you longed for it to have been Wonwoo’s in its place instead.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, (Y/N)?” Joshua asks softly, making you heave another sigh.
“I’m falling in love with somebody I can’t have,” you muttered, making Soonyoung’s eyes widen.
“Honey…” Joshua coos, rubbing your hand in soothing circles.
Your heart twinges with hurt as your face falls, shoulders slumped as a frown forms on your lips.
“I don’t even know how this happened,” you began, pouting. “One day he was my boss… the next he’s the man I want to come home to every night.”
Realization sweeps over Soonyoung’s face at your words, his lips parting in surprise.
“Wonwoo?” He asks, making Joshua’s eyebrows furrow in question. “You’re in love with Wonwoo?”
“How do you know it’s Wonwoo?” Joshua counters, but the look on your face is enough confirmation.
“Wonwoo is my boss,” you clarify. “I didn’t know he was friends with Soonyoung until he showed up to his party.”
“Oh,” Joshua mutters.
“And I’m not in love with him,” you glared at Soonyoung. “Not yet, at least. Although if he keeps getting me flowers and buying me food it’ll be a different story.”
“He’s what?!” Soonyoung gapes, open mouthed.
A wave of heat washes over your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your body as you bashfully look down at the table.
“He’s been getting me gifts,” you admitted softly. “I’ll come into the office in the morning to either a bouquet of flowers or a nice warm meal waiting for me. Sometimes both if he’s in a good mood.”
Soonyoung’s shock doesn’t falter, Joshua gives you a knowing look.
“Sounds like the feelings are mutual,” Joshua points out. “Maybe you should give him a chance —“
“He’s my boss, Shua,” you counter. “That’s a line I’m not allowed to cross.”
“Maybe you should cross it,” Soonyoung cuts in.
“I can’t —“
“(Y/N), I love you. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, I wouldn’t steer you wrong. So believe me when I say that in the years that I’ve known Wonwoo, not once has he ever gotten a woman a gift, let alone tried to pursue one willingly.”
You freeze at that.
Knowing how invested he is with his job, it makes sense that Wonwoo wouldn’t have time to date nor be able to court a woman. But, in the same token, nobody that gorgeous and down to earth couldn’t have had someone he was the least bit interested in.
“I don’t know if I believe that,” you mutter. “Have you seen him? There’s gotta be women wanting him from every corner of the world.”
“Women may want him, honey, but he wants nothing to do with them,” Soonyoung pauses, a knowing look on his face. “Unless it’s you, apparently.”
Joshua chuckles at that, a reassuring smile on his face as he reaches over to place a hand on yours.
“Just think about it,” he suggests, encouragingly. “Weigh out the pro’s and con’s and go from there.”
Nodding in acknowledgement, you opted to stay silent and focus on the menu instead, pushing away any thought of your boss and his feelings towards you as you ignore those damned butterflies in your stomach.
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PROS:
Despite his rigid appearance, he’s quite kind
He listens to me when I have ideas and encourages me to speak up in board meetings despite my lack of status
He remembers things about me – which is still utterly baffling
He’s patient
He’s handsome (unfairly so)
Gift giving as a love language… along with words of affirmation (both a plus for me - dating or not)
CONS:
He’s my boss
The list stares at you with a daunting realization that, yes, the pro’s absolutely outweighed the single con that you could come up with – and, yet, in the same token, so much was at stake if you made the decision to further your relationship with your boss. With every pro that you could list, the thought of ‘He’s my boss’ still outnumbered the choice that your heart had been dying for you to make.
A heavy sigh escapes you as you stare at the word document, lips pursed in thought as your mind flutters back to the conversation you had with Joshua and Soonyoung.
“Maybe you should cross it.”
The line between you and Wonwoo had always been slightly blurred. Between endless flirty compliments and comments and looks that a boss and his assistant should not have been giving to one another, you knew that it had never just been a workplace friendship between the two of you. Not when you would spend countless nights wondering what it would be like to have your boss laying next to you, broad muscly arms enveloping you in a warmth you never wanted to be free of.
And that was what scared you.
“What is that?”
You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice behind you, a shriek escaping you as you click on your email app to pop up instead of the word document, heat flooding your cheeks with embarrassment as you turn to meet the curious gaze of your boss.
“My grocery list,” you reply, lying through your teeth. “I have to pick up a few things on my way home and I didn’t want to forget anything so I wrote it down.”
Wonwoo peers curiously, sharp eyes resting underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and there’s a smirk of amusement on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well I don’t think you have to worry about them tonight,” he replies, coolly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going out tonight,” he clarified, his smirk widening when surprise floods your face.
“Going… out?” You ask, dumbly. “Going out where?”
“Well, since Soonyoung found out that I’m your boss, he’s taken it upon himself to guilt trip me into not only going out tonight, but to bring you along as well.”
A groan escapes you at that, your hand running over your face with embarrassment as Wonwoo chuckles lightly.
“Oh, god,” you whined. “Mr. Jeon I’m sorry –”
“Wonwoo.”
Your gaze meets his amused one as you lifted your head to look at him.
“Wonwoo,” you corrected, looking around the empty office. “He doesn’t understand the term ‘boundaries’ sometimes.”
“I know,” he grins. “Which is why I told him we would both be there.”
You frown at that, looking back towards your computer as you stared at the word app, your mind fluttering to the list that you had been working on.
“I –” you paused, biting the inside of your lip. “I have so much work to do –”
“Sweetheart, I'm offering you a break,” he laughs quietly, looking at you with an expectant look. “Are you really going to turn that down?”
‘He’s your boss, (Y/N). Say no. You know what can happen if you’re stuck with him.’
“Fine,” you concede, sighing softly. “But I have to run home and get changed.”
If the thought of another night out with your boss didn’t already make your heart race, it was the words he whispered to you after that definitely made heat pool between your thighs.
“Why?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re beautiful already.”
Your eyes widened at his compliment, your throat tightening, and you swallowed the lump that had formed out of nervousness before waving him off.
“If you say so,” you dismissed, shutting down your computer. Wonwoo only beams, nose crinkling with happiness as he offers you his arm.
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Wonwoo was glued to your side the moment the two of you had stepped into the club, his hand resting on your lower back as he carefully guided you through the crowd. Bodies were pressed against each other without a care in the world, the party goers dancing without thought as they enjoyed their night, and a part of you envied them — envying that they didn’t have to think about the man currently pressing you against him as he shuffles the two of you towards your friends.
The heat from Wonwoo’s body completely engulfs you as he pressed himself against you, the hand that was on your back now sliding to the dip of your hip as he pulls you into him. The scent of his cologne fills your senses and draws you to him, your body molding into his as he leans down to press his lips against your ear.
“Soonyoung is right there,” he points, gesturing towards the bubbly blonde now dancing with Seungkwan. “I’ll meet you over there. I’m getting us drinks.”
Before you can say anything, a chaste kiss is being pressed to your cheek. Your eyes widened as your boss slithered through the dancing bodies, shock filling you at the gentle brush of his lips on your skin as your mind tried to wrap around the fact that your boss had just kissed you. Butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach at the gesture, your heart speeding up in your chest, and you can only suck in the shyness of the blush now heating your cheeks before you’re making your way towards your group of friends.
Joyful cheers erupt from the bunch as you come into view, glasses being held up in a toast as they acknowledge your arrival. You’re met with Soonyoung’s beaming face as you take a seat beside him, the bubbly blonde wrapping an arm around you as he gives you a one armed hug.
“From now on I’m just going to force Wonwoo to hang out with me,” he says, jokingly. “That seems to be the only way I can get you here!”
A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head at your friend, rolling your eyes playfully.
“It was a low blow, Soonie,” you reprimand, giving him a look. “You can’t boss him around just so that we can accompany you while you’re out.”
Soonyoung pouts, batting his eyes.
“But you’re my friends,” he whines. “And the two of you work too much! It wouldn’t kill you to be somewhere that’s not the office or home every once in a while!”
“He’s got a point, honey,” Dokyeom interjects, looking distractedly behind you. “Wonwoo has you working crazy hours day in and day out. You need a break to decompress.”
“He’s right.”
The deep voice rumbling behind you makes you lift your head as your gaze falls on a smiling Wonwoo, the man placing your drink in front of you before sliding next to you in the booth. Your breath catches in your throat the moment his leg pressed against yours, the heat emanating off of him like he’s your own personal furnace. His sharp gaze is locked on yours as he reaches to lazily drape his arm around you, and you don’t have to look at Soonyoung to know that he’s sitting there smirking as he and Wonwoo lock eyes.
“Nice of you to join us, Wonu,” Soonyoung piped up. “I almost would’ve thought (Y/N) came here alone.”
“Now what kind of man would I be if I let my beautiful assistant come here by herself?”
A chorus of snorts falls upon the group, identical knowing looks on each one of their faces as they gazed upon you and Wonwoo. Heat floods your cheeks as you look down at the table bashfully, biting back a smile as Wonwoo pulls you into him.
Soonyoung can’t help but to smirk as he watches the two of you, a knowing glance being thrown towards your boss as he chuckles.
“I’ve never seen her so shy before,” he coos, making you groan in embarrassment. Wonwoo grins.
“Come to the office and you’ll see more of it,” he teases, and you playfully tap his shoulder in response.
“Stop,” you whined, pouting. “It’s not my fault you’re a shameless flirt.”
Wonwoo’s grin doesn’t falter, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Only with you, sweetheart.”
A unanimous coo falls from the group as they beamed at the two of you, taking in the flirty banter between you and your boss before deciding to give the two of you some time to yourselves. Soonyoung and Dokyeom are making a beeline for the dance floor while Joshua and Seungkwan head towards the bar, and you can already feel the nervous fluttering of those damned butterflies as Wonwoo’s soft gaze peers into yours.
A feline smirk is on his lips, his gaze resting underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and he’s leaning down towards your ear, lips brushing the outer shell and sending a wave of heat through your body.
“Would you like to dance with me?”
His voice is quiet, the low tone reverberating against your body, and you can’t help but to shiver as his breath fanned against your skin. You take a sip of your drink before turning your head to look at him, eyes shining playfully.
“You sure you don’t want to dance with anyone else?” You asked, half teasing half serious. “I’m sure there’s plenty of women who would gladly take you up on it.”
Wonwoo’s face hardens at your words, jaw clenching as he gives you a stern look.
“I don’t want anyone but you.”
Your breath catches in your throat at that, lips parting slightly in shock, and you peered into the earnestness of Wonwoo’s eyes as he reaches to grab your hand. The butterflies multiply tenfold as he lifts it to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he’s wordlessly sliding out of the booth and pulling you up to him.
A protective arm wraps around your waist as your chest presses against his, his gaze never leaving yours as he rests his palm against your cheek.
“Dance with me.”
It’s a soft murmur rumbling from him and the intensity of his gaze can only make you nod in silence before allowing yourself to be willingly pulled to the dance floor.
Strong arms enveloped around your waist as you’re tugged into his broad chest, your arms looping around his neck, and the sultry song playing in the background does absolutely nothing for your nerves as your bodies move to the beat of the song. Wonwoo’s heated gaze is locked on yours, his sharp eyes framed underneath his glasses, and the intensity of him renders your mind thoughtless as a wave of heat flows straight to the pulsing core of your thighs as his body rolls into yours.
A soft mewl falls from you as you mirror his movements, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips swayed against his. Wonwoo grits his teeth as he leans down closer to you, his nose grazing yours as his hands clutched at the fabric of your shirt.
The heat between the two of you grows several degrees hotter as Wonwoo turns you in his arms, your back now flush against his chest, and his head dips to rest in the crook of your neck as your ass rolls into his groin. There’s a broken moan falling from him and he’s gripping onto you for dear life as he grinds his body into yours. Your hands are still fisted through his hair as his teeth graze against your skin, a whine falling from you as you tilt your neck to give him more access.
“Wonwoo…”
The sound of his name falling from you sends your boss into a frenzy, his hands clutching your body to him as he rolls his clothed cock against your ass. His teeth bite down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he sucks the skin into his mouth, marking you with a soothing flick of his tongue.
“Be mine,” he murmurs against your skin, drawing you out of your lust-filled haze. A frown paints itself across your lips as you try to turn in his arms, only to have Wonwoo tighten his arms and lock you in place.
“I can’t…” you whisper, and Wonwoo shakes his head as he nips against your collarbone.
“Don’t think about tomorrow, sweetheart,” he responds. “Think about now. Think about how we’re two people who very clearly care about each other.”
Your brain is screaming at you to pull away, to not risk anything more than what has already happened, but when his hot breath is fanning across your skin and his hardening cock is pressing up against your ass it’s hard to pull away. So, instead, you’re gaining the strength to turn in his arms and pull his head back down to your neck, fishing your hands through his hair as you arch into his touch. Wonwoo growls against your skin as needy hands drop to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh as your bodies grind to the beat of the music.
Everything around you all but disappears as the two of you melt into one another, not a care in the world as Wonwoo mouths hotly at your neck, tongue and teeth marking any visible inch of skin that he can latch onto.
‘Just for tonight,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I can indulge myself just for a night.’
If only it was ever that easy.
1K notes · View notes
surshica · 1 year
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SHE KNOWS.
“that boy is mine.”
synopsis : “chishiya and i are merely just friends, nothing more nothing less..” was the lie you told the world—and god did that make chishiya pissed off at you. those moments together were not real to you? fuck you and those memories. everything that had to do with you were nothing but useless memories he wanted to erase.
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starstruck au! no boderlands — less fluff more angst — crack (attempts of me being funny) — jealousy — slow burn — requited love.
warnings : kys/kms jokes — lots of cussing — sarcasm — unfunny jokes — mentions of stalking/stalkers — never proofread — typos!!
taglist - closed !!</3
cast : faceclaim sakura miyawaki!YN — Older sister!Ann — Older brother!Kyuma — Famous Doctor!Chishiya — Assistant!Kuina — Baker!Usagi — Streamer!Arisu — College Student!Heiya — Driver!Tatta — Bar tender!Karube
main pairing : fem!yn x chishiya
ongoing.
୧ 01. 31 . 23 - 00. 00. 23 !!
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profiles — jollibee >> kfc & babycakes
- Alice in boderland characters
beware !! there is going to be a a bunch of typos and grammatical errors, i suck at english even though it’s my first language LMFAO. this is going to be like 60% smau 40% written or 50% smau 50% written.
ᰔᩚ — includes a written portion
TEASER
ONE - no. no NO! ᰔᩚ
TWO - you’re stupid respectfully ᰔᩚ
THREE - cute.
FOUR - giggle-meister
FIVE - invitational ᰔᩚ
SIX - its not what it looks like
SEVEN - cupid shuffle
EIGHT - well fuck me ᰔᩚ
NINE - goodnight yn
TEN - doing too much
ELEVEN - puppy love?
TWELVE - she knows.tv
THIRTEEN - consequences of my own actions
FOURTEEN - love you like a love song
FIFTEENTH - kiss kiss
SIXTEEN -
SEVENTEEN - i wan(ted)na be yours
875 notes · View notes
rouiyan · 8 months
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𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]
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⧏ back to teaser || redirect to playlist ⧐
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marks manages to land himself in a forty-two hour drive across the country with his archaeology major ex-girlfriend in the passenger seat. but for the duration of the whole ride, the only thing he can think about is that one twitter meme that states that “a majority of archeologists are women due to their natural ability to dig up the past.”
✧ photographer!mark lee x (fem.) archaeology major!reader ✧ exes to lovers, road trip au, referenced college au ✧ genres — fluff/angst, hurt/comfort ✧ word count — 25.2k
✧ disclaimers — profanity, mentions of food, legal (u.s.) alcohol consumption, they make out like once, emotional insecurity and vulnerability (i.e. several panic attacks, social anxiety), possible terminal illness (not of mcs), generational conflict, y/n cries a lot, mark sucks at parking
✧ caveat — this fictional plot is set in present-day america and does not accurately reflect the locations referenced. furthermore, this publication is not an endorsement of the brand or the product featured. all credit is given where it is due. (sources linked upon conclusion)
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✧ author’s note — happy 24th birthday to my dear mark! note that the first scene is the exact same as the teaser, so if you've read that already, feel free to skip over! also note i half-assed the proofread so please let me know of any typos, plotholes, and other stupid stuff that i forgot to adjust. as for myself, you can catch a little update on the past two years of my life at the end of this fic so for now, enjoy!
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「 DAY 00, 01:42 PM 」 — CUPID DABBLES IN BURNT TOAST
"oh, come on. i thought you were nicer than that!"
it's at times like these where mark is led to think that haechan only considers him as his very best friend for three things. his toaster, his car, and then of course, how easy it is to torment him.
he’s experienced enough to know that the guilt he feels is really only a direct result of haechan's guilt-tripping antics. and so he responds sarcastically, "yeah, nice enough to save a girl from a week of being in close proximity to the person she hates most in the world."
the toaster dings and haechan catches the two pieces of toast in their flight. he sticks one in his mouth, breaking off a bite, whilst turning to toss the other onto his friend's plate. chewing roughly, he leans back onto the counter opposite of mark, watching in contempt as the latter spreads jam across the burnt slice of bread.
haechan points a finger and juts it in his direction, offhandedly commenting, "i'm starting to think that it's you who hates her," a fact that both friends know isn't true. and because of that, mark doesn't make a big deal of denying it. "i don't hate her. i'm just..." he trails off and haechan takes the opportunity to craftily stage his intervention.
"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"
"yeah, i guess."
"not wanting her to hate you more?"
"there's that too."
"not over her?"
"hey, not cool."
a passage of silence elapses as mark sets the butter knife aside in exchange for his orange juice. gulping it down, he gets through two thirds of the glass before haechan perks up again. "actually, i think she still has a thing for you."
mark sputters, barely swallowing his drink before it could hurl out his disbelieving mouth. trying to smooth over his show of defiance, mark recovers a nonchalant expression as he deadpans, "there's no way. you know better than i do that she fucking hates me."
haechan takes another bite, aware but indifferent at how the crumbs have been gathering at his feet. his eyes trail absentmindedly to the clock on the wall behind mark, but only briefly for the hands are far past where he'd expected them to be. shoving the last of the toast into his mouth, he rushes to gather his belongings whilst uttering to his bewildered company, "shit, i'm gonna be late. pack it up."
obediently downing the rest of his orange juice, mark grabs his half-eaten, jam-slathered, burnt-to-a-crisp toast in one hand as the other reaches for his car keys on the way out. the unbearably hot sun of an early summer afternoon only hurries mark further along to his car, his wishes that he had worn shorts instead of jeans already too late to come true. but once both car doors have been shut and seat belts have been strapped, haechan carries on with his agenda without missing a beat.
"just give her the ride, mark. she'll keep you company and, i don't know, make sure you're not falling asleep at the wheel. and plus, she said she'll split the toll and gas fees."
mark shoves the last bite of toast into his mouth, the charred-ness of it procuring a nice crunch. even after he swallows, it takes him a second to respond. and though his answer is still far from budging, it sounds more like a justification, as if he needs convincing of his own opinion. "tell her it's cheaper to just catch a flight. and faster too."
exasperated, haechan retorts under his breath, "that's the same thing i told you," to which mark gives a raised brow, not catching what he said. instead of repeating, haechan only says, "just take her. you guys need to make up anyways."
that renders mark quiet for the rest of the ride as he tosses the thought over in his head. it's a thought that he knows he's been pushing away for far too long, hoping one day it'll become redundant enough to simply forget about. unknowingly, mark begins to speed a little, his turns become a little tighter, and when the traffic light signals red, the nose of his car is pulled daringly close to the car in front.
mark parallel parks shoddily in front of the archeology department building four minutes earlier than google maps had estimated. his best friend looks over at him expectantly and that in itself is enough to squeeze the reluctant words right out of him. "fine, i'll think about it."
haechan's face lights with a satisfied glow as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, making his way out of the car as quickly as he can. and just before mark can think to wish him good luck on his last exam of the spring semester, haechan blurts out the one crucial detail he had neglected to bring up until now. 
"thank god, because i already told her you said yes."
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「 DAY 01, 07:48 AM 」 — ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD
the trunk of his beloved subaru crosstrek slams shut from behind. mark winces. the car door of the passenger seat slams shut shortly after. mark winces once again, but doesn't venture to comment on it. instead, he comments on something else entirely. "so why am i picking you up from the hospital?"
you roll your eyes, traces of hostility already to be found in your expression. "as if that's any of your business." you position the tote bag you brought up front by your feet and the contents inside clank against one another. mark gives you a questioning look, thus questioning, "what’s in there? rocks?"
instead of answering with what he would assume to be the same thing you said prior, you simply huff and lean back into the seat to fasten your seat belt. mark does the same, then hastens to shift the gears from park to drive. "you ready?"
lips set into a firm line, you're staring straight ahead when you say, "ready to get this over with." mark takes that as his cue to start the forty-two hour drive across the country, past barren lands and hilly roads, trading the smog of new york for the smog of los angeles.
the drive begins with a screeching hour of silence, all of which you’ve spent scrolling on your phone. and when you finally look up from your screen, the city view outside has already mellowed into sprawling countryside. mark takes this new development as a window of opportunity to spark up conversation, although you beat him to it nonetheless. “how many stops are we taking?”
he clears his throat for fear of a cracking voice and gathers his scattered thoughts to form a response. “about two or three times a day.”
“and how many days are we gonna be on the road?”
“three to four. i’m thinking we should take a few overnight stops as well. and also,” there’s a break in his sentence where he stops to scrunch his nose, “i might want to stop at random points to shoot some pictures. is that fine with you?”
you take your eyes off the road momentarily to get a good look at mark. he has a hand on the wheel and the other propped up by the window adjacent, eyes held forward all the while. looking back ahead yourself, you give in with a slight hitch of indignation in your otherwise colorless voice. “sure, why not.”
mark refers back to a time where the silent air between the two of you would sit comfortably and thinks of how he might have brought about conversation back then. he tries, as he might, to do the same with this scenario, catching the moment before the prolonged silence warrants it too late. “so what’s your business in LA?”
surprisingly, he spots less bite in your tone the more you speak. “my sister asked me to be maid of honor at her wedding next week.” mark’s automatic response comes out first as a laconic, “oh nice” but he follows up quickly after with an inquiring, “is it...is it still jaehyun? or is that a thing of the past?”
“it’s still him. they’ve been engaged for a while, remember?”
mark nods in agreement. he even remembers that exact phone call you received from your sister on the day your freshman year finals ended. sat across the couch, he can even recall the way you tried to motion the whole conversation with your hands to him while on the phone with her, your excitement on full display when you later hugged him tight since he was the only other person in the room.
he bites down on his bottom lip at the thought of the memory that’s still fresh in his mind. time seemed to pass more quickly for him now that it wasn’t divided into semesters and school years. taking a glance over at you, mark can’t help but think that while college life turned out to be unsuitable for him, it had done wonders for you in just the past year.
with little to no trace of the temper you initially harbored, your voice is about as neutral as it gets when you take your turn in questioning him. “what about you? what are you doing in LA?”
his answer is simple, really. his plan originally focused more on capturing the sights along the way to LA rather than the city itself. but seeing as how you’d expressed wanting to make the trip as curt and necessary as possible, he acquiesced for the lesser truth. “i’m just planning on taking some pictures and meeting some friends there. it’s a change of scenery too, i guess.”
the prospect of conversation eased in difficulty the more it steered in the direction of friendly small talk and catching up with one another. his career and his career-related decisions were always somewhat of a prickly topic, after all. his parents scorned him for it, calling it “easy money” that would just as easily come and go. his friends always said he just got lucky in the industry. and his old professors had shook their heads when he told them about his plans to drop out. 
to mark, you were the only one who had ever cared to really understand his relationship with the passion that was now his life’s work. and because of that, his answer comes most naturally when you ask him, “what’s still keeping you in new york, though? i mean, you’re not there for school anymore and you’re not exactly a street photographer either.”
and without a thought to spare, mark blurts out, “you.”
what a perfect way to kill a perfectly fine conversation, he thinks in the midst of the grand silence that follows. red creeps its way up from his next to his ears until he’s flushed clean with embarrassment and terrible terrible regret, the only consolation being that your eyes seemed to be glued up ahead and not at him.
although it seems you’ve since dropped the conversation — seeing as how you’ve checked your phone five times in the last five minutes — you still make it your job to clear the air for any future attempts at conversing. after all, you’re going to be stuck with him for the entirety of the next three days. and that’s at the very least.
“mark, i don’t even want to know what you meant by that, but can we just keep our distance as…” you pause when you realize there really isn’t an appropriate label to describe your relationship with him. what do you call someone that you know really well, but aren’t on talking terms with, and have a long history of romantic instances with?
at the three-second mark in your hesitation, he lends a hopeful suggestion, “as friends?” and it’s another three unsure seconds spent on your end — unease on his — until you finally give in with a sigh and a small, albeit resolute nod. “as friends.”
he’s going at almost a hundred miles per hour on the empty road when you noticeably look over at him in time to catch the quirk of his lips, before he reassesses with a nod of his own in confirmation. with the first of (what you’re sure will be) many awkward exchanges passed, you reach a hand into the backseat to draw forth a thin blanket. “alright, i’m going to continue sleeping then.”
“mhmm,” he hums, watching in the corner of his eye as you lower the seat back. the position you assume, curling into the blanket, is as familiar as it gets and mark is reminded of countless road trip memories that he has never bothered to unearth. he sighs. “go ahead, we got all the time in the world.”
and after making sure you’ve fallen fast asleep with your slowed breathing and occasional snores, mark slows the car to a cruising 70 miles per hour.
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「 DAY 01, 10:33 AM 」 — MORE THAN I THOUGHT
“keep right to stay on the i-81 south.” you slit an eye open, wide enough to see that the road ahead is blanketed in a gleaming white. the sun must’ve parted from the clouds. you close your eye in an attempt to fall back asleep. but just before you do, the automated voice from mark’s phone perks up again. “keep right to stay on the i-81 south.”
annoyed and disgruntled, you shrug the blanket off of you and, this time, crack both eyes open. sitting up in your reclined seat, you rub at your eyes and realize two things. one, the car is no longer moving. and two, you’re in the car alone. suddenly alert, you jab your finger into the ‘cancel’ button on his phone just as it continues its mantra of “keep right to sta—” and grab your own phone as you make your way out of the car.
the car itself is parked haphazardly in front of what is labelled to be a colon and rectal surgery building, with half the whole vehicle outside of the designated lines. but just as you begin to question mark’s motives, you turn to see a vast expanse of water on the opposite side. there’s small islands and clumps of trees jutting out and just across you can see a rise of buildings in the distance. 
approaching the road that separates you and the riverbank, you bring a hand to shield your eyes from the light of the sun which you have yet to adjust to. and sure enough, through the blinding haze you make out a figure on the other side of the road, unruly black hair scuffed by the wind with a giant camera held at his hip. his other hand is held in the same shielding stance as you, and even his posture alone is enough to tell you that it’s mark.
both hands now cupping your mouth, you yell out a resounding, “mark!” just as a truck whizzes by but when the body of it passes, the man is revealed to be looking back at you with a silly smile plastered across his face. he holds the heavy film camera with both hands now, as he rushes up the slight grassy incline and jaywalks casually across the street.
you’re about to scold him for not even looking out for any incoming cars but up close, he only grins harder. mark is less than five feet away when he thinks to enlighten you, his beaming smile quickly growing sheepish, “google maps told me to keep right but i stayed on the right for so long, i ended up exiting the highway altogether.” his free arm gestures outwards in exclamation while he beams, “but look where we ended up!”
the sincerity of his bright eyes and bright smile puts a dampener on the tension, so much so that you even venture to joke, “the upmc pinnacle colon and rectal surgery center?” whilst pointing back to the sign. “you’ve no idea how confused i was when i woke up.”
“sorry about that. we’re in harrisburg now. so i’m guessing this is the susquehanna river.”
you shoot him a surprised look, “nice. almost halfway through pennsylvania.”
he ducks his head, a small smile adorning his nod in agreement, “yeah almost.” mark likes this new development of mood you seem to be in. chipper? not exactly. but much more pleasant than before? absolutely. he knows from personal experience that it’s the sleep. good sleep and good food do that to you. and thus he suggests, “should we get a quick brunch before getting back on the road?”
your eyes ignite a glow — rival to his — at the sound of brunch, though you have enough patience to consider, “did you get all the pictures you wanted already?”
mark nods once again, even though he isn’t even through a fourth of his first roll of film. he figures he’ll have plenty more opportunities to use it up down the line. plus, he likes the little smile on your face way too much to be the one to deny you what you want. and so he rushes to get his equipment back in their travel straps and he clambers back into the driver’s seat, all to careen his way about four blocks down to the mcdonald’s (but only after you’d shaken your head whilst he was pulling up at the wendy’s).
he orders drive through and you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns to ask, “same as usual?” and though you’re sure your usual order has changed at least once or twice in just the last year, you nod anyways. mark pays at the till and you’re handed a sausage burrito with large fries. as you’d supposed, it’s not your most up-to-date order but at this point, almost anything will get your mouth watering.
at your first bite, you sneak a glance over at mark. his head is bowed over the egg mcmuffin in his lap, hands clasped lightly together as he says grace. looking away, you give an unprompted chuckle under your breath in remembrance of his faith, new memories ringing up old habits in the back of your mind.
the next time you place a glance towards him, there’s crumbs littering the lap of his jeans and sauce smothered around the curves of his mouth. and when he looks over at you, an eyebrow raised in question at the sudden onset of attention you’re giving, you pay little mind to the fact that you have to stifle yet another chuckle in exchange for simply tossing a napkin his way. 
sitting here in the passenger seat of his car, you can’t help but think that there must be something inherently wrong about spending time with an ex. especially when the two of you parted on terms that seemed somewhat insignificant, though only at the surface of things.
for the most part, mark was a good boyfriend. and the mark that sat to your left doesn’t seem any different than the mark you knew back then. maybe he got around to shaving his stubble a little closer and cleaning up his car a bit more often, but he wears the same carhartt jeans, eats as clumsily as he always had, and still drives his car as if he had extra lives to spare.
from his nose scrunches to his dutiful faith, the mark you’re sat next to now is undeniably the same mark you fell in love with what seems like ages ago.
and as he backs out of the parking space, almost reversing straight into the car opposite, you catch the uttered “shit” that falls so casually from his lips. the same lips that you could never get enough of against yours. the song that’s blaring from the speakers is a favorite of his, you know that best, and it has him humming lightly with the same voice that once serenaded you to sleep. his fingers drum incessantly on the steering wheel as he waits for a red light to turn green, the same fingers that once struggled, but succeeded against all odds, in learning how to braid your hair.
you swallow thickly and think of how unfair this has come to be. it feels impossible to have to sit with the fact that you revoked his license as your boyfriend, but now have to regard him as just a friend. it’s the same as holding someone you once held close at arm’s distance. and it’s like trying to purposefully forget the name of your favorite show, or your beloved dog, or even your own name. 
all of a sudden, you feel like you’ve been caught in a fervid windstorm so strong that it threatens to uproot whatever reasonings had kept you grounded, amplifying whatever feelings lingered in his wake. except, the only thing you have left to hold onto is the realization that although the mark in the driver’s seat is the same mark you fell in love with way back when, he’s also the same mark that broke your heart without even a single word said.
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「 DAY 02, 01:17 AM 」 — MARK LEE SMOKING?? (100% CLICKBAIT)
a bout of carsickness hits you at seven in the evening, right after sitting in at a roadside diner that served mashed potatoes that were suspiciously tinted green. but even after he pulled over so you could throw up on the side of the road, you’d implored mark to keep on driving until the two of you were at least at the outskirts of illinois. and that had happened on three separate occasions.
reluctantly, he’d kept his promise and poorly parked his car in front of relax inn, the closest and cheapest place that google maps could turn up. located in marshall, illinois with a striking two-star rating, it had everything you needed: free parking, shitty wifi, and even complimentary breakfast. or, it had everything you needed except two separate and unoccupied rooms.
you had been surprised, at first, when the man at the front counter had only charged mark $58. but that was after he had conveniently left out that the amazing deal was actually for only one room, not two. sighing, you drop your bag to the ground in resignation at the sight of the single queen-sized bed. despite the stiff sheets and musty smell, it still stands to look inviting after ten hours, give or take, of almost nonstop driving.
with only two stops taken for restroom breaks or gas fill-ups, you figure that either one of you has reason enough to claim the bed. there is a thought of mentioning how the two of you had slept side by side with no sexual implications many times before but it’s fleeting, dismissed, and gone within seconds.
instead, you begin drafting your argument, pulling out the persuasive points of your monologue about why you were more deserving of the bed. sure, he’d driven the car the whole while, his eyes must be strained and his ability to concentrate and energy have probably been rendered null. you, on the other hand, could pull the motion sickness, weak composition, nauseated passenger princess card. yeah, surely that’d do the trick.
your opening lines are right at the tip of your tongue, ready to win over a hefty opponent, when you turn to see that mark has already situated his belongings on the ground by the couch. wary of how you’d been standing there for a good two minutes completely unmoved, he looks your way and very plainly comments, “you take the bed. i’m fine with the couch.”
and suddenly you feel very supremely guilty for having even thought of going into a full-blown verbal altercation for a slightly more comfortable place to rest. you now think about thus commencing a full-blown verbal altercation over the slightly less comfortable place to rest, if not to ease your guilty conscience, then just out of politeness. but you digress because after all, mark is way too nice and you’re way too in need of a good night’s sleep. even if it’s just slightly better.
laying in bed, scrolling on your phone, you recall that this is how it’s always been with mark. that at one point, you became too tired of always trying to be the nicer person out of politeness when mark had the kind of genuineness you’d find in about one of a million persons. sometimes, a simple exchange of things like who should get the bed could blow itself out of proportion without either of you meaning for it to have gone that far. you came to the conclusion long ago that fights about who was the nicer person weren’t necessarily fights on character, but rather just fights like any other. and choosing to let mark carry through with his niceness — accepting the last french fry, taking his jacket when it was chilly, and now letting him have the couch — didn’t mean you were inconsiderate. in a way, it was a compromise of its own to allow him the opportunity to be of service to you.
you think of showering the following morning for it seems unlikely that you’d depart the comfort and looming sleep the bed provides. squirming around, you tuck yourself under the blankets but before you could fully relinquish your body to the confines of sleep, a soft rustling by the edge of the bed coaxes your eyes to open a sliver.
mark’s squatting so that you’re right at eye level with him. his hair is mussed more than the wind had done and wet at the tips, sticking up in several places that seem to defy the laws of gravity. with an elbow set on the bed, he peers at you over the screen of his phone, eyes wide and set in the frame of his black-rimmed glasses. he doesn’t whisper though his voice comes out so low, you wouldn’t be able to tell much of a difference anyways. “sorry, i know you’re tryna sleep. just wanted to ask when you’d want to wake up tomorrow.”
repositioning to face him, you smush the side of your cheek into the pillow and the unease in mark’s face ebbs away. half alseep and a good amount dehydrated, your throat is scratchy when you pass it back to him, “what do you think?”
mark scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, “i, uh well… maybe six...?” and he traces your eyes as they find the clock on the nightstand. it reads 2:02 AM and he seems to share the same thought as you. “...thirty? six-thirty?”
you close your eyes, already losing your grasp on what he just said as you mumble out the last of your thoughts, “okay, we’ll grab breakfast downstairs and leave at seven?”
whatever he responds with goes in one ear and out the other. and it isn’t until he wakes you up, bright and early at 6:20 AM, that you remember the conversation even happened. in reality, you roll around in bed, trying to find another sweet spot that will lull you back into sleep, for about ten whole minutes. by the time you’ve given up, gotten out of bed, and begun collecting your garments for the shower, it’s 6:30 on the dot. it doesn’t even register in your mind that mark had accounted for your scheduled morning bout of grogginess until you’re out of the shower with a clearer head.
you sit across from him at breakfast and he passes the black pepper when you spoon your scrambled eggs. he offers to go refill your orange juice at one point and at another he apologizes adamantly for accidentally nudging your foot under the table. it’s only after he takes your empty plate with his back to the clean-up counter that you really bother to take a good look at him.
he must’ve skipped his morning shave, for his stubble is visible though not much more than a mere shadow. there’s a silver chain at his neck, one with a dangling cross pendant, and it sits prettily atop his plain black pocket tee. mark leads the way towards the front desk to check out. you notice the way he swirls the both the room key and car key around his fingers, his straight posture when he walks depite the heavy backpack mounted on him, and even the worn-in outline of his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans.
and when he mistakens the pristinely cleaned glass door for a wide opening, resulting in a blooming red splotch on his forehead, you take the time to consider his big endearing head, and his big boyish eyes, and his big sloppy smile. you laugh along with him, but perhaps for more of a different reason. mark may have a big head, but at least it’s filled with good and godly things. 
seconds later in the parking lot and you think to rescind those same regards. mark may be nice but there’s no way you’ll be the one to compromise on this one.
you’re fully in the seat and ready to get the car going, except mark is standing right where the door should be closing with his arms crossed and a foot hiked up on the frame of the car. his stance is a plain show of defiance, as are his firmly-stated comments. “i’m not letting you drive. you were vomiting everywhere just last night.”
“give me the keys, i need my redemption arc to happen right now.”
mark only tilts his head in disapproval, eyes boasting a look that emanates something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me?’ you press your lips thin in consideration, realizing that this has turned out to be harder than you’d bargained for. eyeing the keys hanging loosely from his left hand, you decide that your efforts were going to amount to nothing if not by way of force.
when you lunge for the keys, mark takes that you’re attacking him or something of the sort, throwing his hands out in front to block. in the three seconds the debacle had taken to unfold, the sharp end of the car key had scraped the length of your inner arm, nicking your skin clean apart. much to your chagrin and his relief, you end up in the passenger seat anyways.
mark wipes diligently at the long cut with an alcohol pad, whilst you use your unpunctured arm to search for where he’d claimed the first aid kit with the bandaids would be. you look away from the glove box to find his unimpressed disposition, and you hold the gaze until he meets it. but he only meets it for a split second before ducking his head back down to the red-stained alcohol pad, muttering low but loud enough for you to catch. “god you’re a mess, y/n.”
you return your attention to your search for bandaids, eyes rolling far into the back of your head. “i already admitted defeat. do you have to rub it in?” to which he responds with but a fleeting laugh. and by the time he can come up with a, “there we go, all clean,” you’ve conjured four bandaids for him to top it all off.
as mark busies himself with finding the most appropriate arrangement that would cover the length of the cut, you shove the first aid kit back to where you’d retrieved it in the far corner of the glove box. it’s then that the streak of red that was presumably tucked behind it catches your eye.
by the time mark returns from discarding the wipes and bandage packaging, it’s already too late for him to stop what’s to come. the red box — at first glance, what looks to be a sizable pack of cigarettes — had already found its way into your unsuspecting hands.
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「 DAY 02, 07:09 AM 」 — BROCKHAMPTON SATURATION II, TRACK #16
when haechan first introduced his sophomore photography major best friend to you back in freshman year of college, he had described him as the guy with no emotional depth. and you had shaken his outstretched hand anyways, awkwardly laughing along even though you had no idea that it was an inside joke between the two of them.
you laughed again on christmas day, same year, same joke. however, you still had yet to figure out what it meant when haechan had gifted your new boyfriend the card game, cased in a brilliant red box. he had said something along the lines of “maybe this’ll get him to dig deeper” and your group of friends, most of whom had known mark since high school, seemed to find it funny and fitting.
the game itself, you knew; it was a popular drinking game among your college friends. you had played it several times yourself at more intimate gatherings, the reflective conversational prompts amounting to several instances of sob fests, tissue shortages, and long hugs. it was good for heartfelt conversations, and apparently mark wasn’t one for feelings. put two and two together and that made enough sense for you to laugh along and move on without much thought.
but well over two, almost three, years later, you wonder why it’d been shoved into the back of his glove box, the plastic wrap still intact and pristine. it’s as if mark had quite literally buried his feelings into the depths of this car, subsequently forgotten and later dug up by his girlfriend turned ex. life’s a funny thing, because only now as his ex-girlfriend do you understand what the gag gift meant in the first place.
looking out upon the barren gas station, you feel restless standing in the face of ten — bordering eleven — hours of driving beside mark of all people. but when he slips into the seat beside you, freshly washed hands wiping themselves down the length of his jeans, you begin to think of a better, or at least more interesting, way to pass the time. holding the box of cards out for him to see, your bouncing leg finally comes to a still as you suggest, “wanna play?”
mark regards the box with a joking manner, and while his casual, “yeah, why not” might prove his act of nonchalance convincing, you like to think you know him better than to look past the way his eyes had lingered, or the hesitance set in his brows, or even the readjusting of his position. he starts up the engine and moves the gear out of park as you fumble with the plastic wrapping. a small tear later and you’re peeling back the packaging, throwing small glances at mark’s way whilst he throws unsure glances at the box of cards.
two minutes back on the i-70 west, you’ve shuffled the cards until your fingers began to feel sliced through, and only then did you deem it time to begin. fanning the deck out to your left, you gesture for mark to select his first pick. he shakes his head and wordlessly gestures back at you to make the first move, a lick of his lips giving his uncertainty away.
shoving the rest of the deck into one of the cup holders on the middle console, you read along as your other hand sets forth in finding your phone. “wildcard. press shuffle on your music library. explain the first song that comes up!”
phone in hand, you look over at mark inquiringly, “me or you?” and if you had to guess his next words, there’d be no doubt that it’d be a stiff and uttered, “you.” almost taking glee in his squirmishness, you pull up spotify on your phone and click into your mess of a “liked songs” playlist. mark passes you the carplay cord and you plug it in, pressing the shuffle button apprehensively after the beep indicates it’s been connected.
heavy piano chords pan out from the speakers and a smile is slow to spread across your face as you come to a realization of what song it is. for better or for worse, mark seems to know as well, retracting his gaze from the road for less than a second to meet your eyes. there’s a sort of ‘ahh’ in them, an understanding, an underlying fondness.
in the heat of the summer…
“do i really have to explain?”
you know that you should be my boy.
“give it a go at least.”
in the heat of the summer…
“well…”
you’re so different from the rest.
you find yourself at a loss for words. amongst many other things that arise in this moment, your train of thought does its best to rationalize. why was this song still in the playlist? simple, you forgot to take it out. it’s only normal that things get buried with time. why can’t you just say that to him, then? simple, because then it’d be so easy for him to brush it off as a lame excuse, a cover-up, as to how plainly you still held onto your relationship. what the fuck are you feeling? panic. doubt. frustration. longing.
panic at the thought that he would read into it too much. doubt at the thought that there were other reasons for why you’d let this song gather dust in your playlist. frustration at the thought that there was only you to blame for this situation that you’d gotten yourself into. and longing. longing that had sat untouched for the same amount of time you’d decided to shove your feelings away instead of confronting them. longing that had since settled into your flesh and bones, going unnoticed. longing that, at the first chords of this song, had you casting your eyes downwards from the road ahead.
hastily, you grab for your water bottle, taking steady but large gulps. suddenly, your throat had become too dry. swallowing thickly, you wonder why the lump in your throat refuses to fall back. your breathing becomes noticeably haggard while the thing lodged in your throat remains. at the slightest indication of mark’s head turning your way, you snap your own in the direction of the window to avoid his questioning gaze.
biting down on your lip, your eyes fall closed even with the sprawling hills unfurling just outside. the sun is climbing to its height, as is your sudden onslaught of emotions that drowns out all noise except the sound of mark humming along to the song. you are numb, you are deaf, you are void of everything except his voice.
“do you remember?”
reverberating through you, it’s all you are able to feel.
“do you remember last summer at the lake?”
mind emptied, it’s all you know.
“it’s one of my favorite days, i’ll have you know.”
body capsized, it floods you. and it fills you to the brim until you can’t take it anymore.
“isn’t it funny that all my favorite days have been spent with you?”
and when it overflows, it comes in the form of tears.
your vision blurs and the wetness on your cheeks is quickly pulled into a pool at the edge of the seat. closing your eyes is a daunting task, even then, because you know just what you’ll see. you make the mistake of trying to blink away the tears, making them fall far faster than they had before. but for what it’s worth, it had been a favorite day of yours as well, albeit bittersweet.
the water was emerald green and the grass was knee-high. the sun rested overhead for almost fourteen hours a day and you had a tan comparable to that of a professional-grade spray. the wind was light though unrelenting, apparent in the way the clothes strewn across the clothesline were at the cusp of being carried away. everything under the sun was warm to the touch. the rocks, the grass, the water, his skin.
you snap your eyes open and only then do you notice that the car has come to a stop, pulled over to the side of the road. your hand is pressing into your forehead and the tears are still running free when you care to peer over in mark’s direction. both hands resting on the wheel, his eyes emanate in concern, lips pulled tight as if an apology was attempting to push past from within. it’s hard to pinpoint your finger directly to it, but there’s something about his expression that ticks you off so greatly that you regard him for less than a second before slipping out of the car.
the first inhale of fresh air makes the stuffiness inside the car feel like you had been breathing in water. the wind, just as it had been that day, is light though unrelenting, and it dries clean the tears in your eyes. your body sags and you give your weight into the side rails of the road, sitting against it and heaving thorough breaths to bring you some peace of mind. if you stared at your surroundings for long enough, the short grasses growing beside the road would grow long and the valleys in between the hills would carve out an emerald lake. the warmth would find its way back to you, but it’s far from pleasant and rather close to burning, scorching even. you fist and unfist your hands, recoiling from even the thought of it.
instead, you focus on the way the roughened wood of the rail nips at your skin through the thin spandex of your shorts. when you shift your position, the metal that accompanies it is hot to the touch and the uneven pavement beneath you is riddled with its fair share of pebbles and wood chips alike. taking your time, you come to pay more mind to your breathing, allowing the intakes to fill up your belly rather than your chest. the sky is a clear blue, the single cloud is pear-shaped, you can count up to seven peaks in the hills, and there are four dirt patches within your line of vision. it’s these little things that ground you.
seven minutes past. you hear a car door open you but you never hear it close. footsteps stop maybe three feet from your left but they never step any closer. he says, “whenever you’re ready,” but he never says anything more. 
and perhaps that’s what hurts the most.
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「 DAY 02, 01:56 PM 」 — LITTLE CRAZY LOVE SONG, MARY OLIVER 2014
“what’d you say?”
“nothing much, really—”
“well, you obviously said something if she’s voluntarily passed out for the last six hours.”
static crinkles on the other end and mark looks around at the endless stretch of trees surrounding the lone gas station. the signal is clearly not having its best moment here in the thick of the forest, but he rejoins anyways. 
“i brought up last summer…” he trails off, hoping that just the season would provide enough context to tell of the situation without him explicitly having to name it as terrible, godawful, and no good whatsover. to be frank, mark wasn’t expecting understanding and empathy when he dialed haechan’s number. hell, he wasn’t even expecting to receive encouragement and good faith. perhaps all he wanted was recognition for the bad deed he’d committed and someone for him to bicker out his frustration with. and surely, haechan delivers just that.
“mark, you whole-hearted idiot. wh—”
“okay but in my defense, i thought we were having a momen—”
“i think only you were having a mo—”
“it just slipped out, i swear it wasn’t on purpo—”
“how the fuck did you think she’d react to your sappy bullshi—”
“—but it’s all cool now.”
the other end goes flat after mark’s statement and he thinks it’s owed to the faulty service, until haechan sputters in disbelief, breaking the quiet at an ear-splitting decible, “cool? you call that cool?!” mark furrows his brow at his friend’s overuse of emphasis whilst he busies himself with retrieving his credit card one-handedly. he knows that somewhere along the line, he fucked up. and he thinks he knows exactly where but at the same time, mark isn’t quite in the headspace to own up to it. so he retaliates.
“it’s like you set me up for failure.”
haechan justifies, “hey, it’s not like i did anything wrong. a friend needed a ride and i found someone who could give her just that.” but mark can hear the sarcasm in his voice and he decides he would rather confront his friend than question his ex. “i highly doubt she’d be down for a forty-two hour drive over a six-hour flight. what the fuck did you even say to convince her?”
the younger doesn’t waver when put in the spotlight. in fact, he gives it away as if it’s all just a fun prank on his end. and that’s not to say that isn’t at least partially the truth.
“i told her you already agreed to take her, same thing i said to you.” 
smart as ever, he hangs up before mark’s initial surprise gets translated into brute annoyance. the silence after the disconnect tone hits him almost immediately and thus, he finds himself standing in the middle of an empty gas station, in the middle of the eerily quiet city of winona, missouri, which is sat at the edge of a brimming forest where nothing but trees run on for miles and miles on end. there’s a town & county supermarket in the same plaza and a rundown dollar general down the street he’d passed to get here. 
it suddenly feels as if he’s the only person alive in this whole wide world, trapped inside his four-walled mind with no one to talk to except his regretful self. more than confronting his friends or even you, mark has known for a long time that he feels the most social anxiety whenever he’s left to confront himself. he tries to shake the thought, pocketing his wallet as he makes a beeline for the supermarket across the desolate parking lot. it’s far on foot and with each step, he descends down into the depths of despair, digging up all the times he must’ve made you uncomfortable with just his presence. for once, he doesn’t think it’s such a wonderful thing to be alone in the world with the person he loves most.
seven hours of almost straight driving is bound to make a person go at least a little insane, as mark wonders if he even remembers the last time he saw anyone other than you. he grabs a bag of popcorn, a charcuterie box, and a gallon of water at the supermarket and only at the cash register, manned by a live and tangible human, is he freed from the confines of his tortured mind. 
gas filled to the max and provisions restocked, he’s once again met with the struggle of having to close the car door as quietly and undistrubingly as humanly possible. you’re still very much asleep and the last thing he wants is to jolt you awake when your latest memory of him is how he’d insensitively instigated a panic attack at barely seven in the morning, albeit unintentionally.
after he closes the door with exemplary caution and barely a thud, mark lowers his guard with a sigh in relief in tow. though in this fleeting moment of mindlessness, the very next moment he’s dropped his keys on the center console. wincing, he watches as the clattering elicits a stir on your end, fluttering eyelids, and then — to his utter horror and dismay — you wake up.
mark plays it cool, or so he thinks, by letting out a low “oh shit” to make sure you know of his accidental mistake. rubbing your eyes, the first glance you place his way isn’t strictly a glare, but it might as well be with how you barely acknowledge his stilled presence. mark waits until you’ve had a couple sips of water in your system and a full routine of arm stretches before speaking up carefully. “how’d you sleep?”
you look his way and tiredly blink a few times before saying, “fine.”
back at square one, he thinks. mark hands you the bag of popcorn and charcuterie box and reaches over to drop the giant water jug into the back seats. you eye the bag and the box confusedly, then the blanket draped across your knees that you’re sure wasn’t there when you fell asleep, and then finally your surroundings.
“what time is it?”
“about 2:20.”
“where are we?”
“missouri. just outside the mark twain national forest.”
you eye the landscape beyond the windows where you’re met with the parking lot, a few commercial structures, and a shitload of trees. you turn back towards mark, “are we on schedule?”
he nods. “we’re actually ahead of schedule. we were supposed to be just out of illinois right now.”
you give him a tight-lipped smile that does little to ease the tension. removing the blanket, you make a move for the door and mark thinks that this must be it. you’ve had enough of him, you’re tired of tolerating his presence, and you’ve set your mind on walking the rest of the way to los angeles. it’s a rather immature thought but he entertains it for a split second regardless. the second half of the second is spent coming up with a hastened, “wait.”
you’re halfway out the door when you look back over your shoulder, a left eyebrow cocked in question. mark doesn’t have anything on hand to say, so he blurts out whatever question he had first in queue, “why… why did you agree to come?”
fully out of the car, you stand facing him with one hand resting on the car door and the other situated on your hip. in your freshly awakened state, you cock your head at the absurdity of his unprompted question. there’s a trace of thought pooling in your eyes before you answer rather nonchalantly, “i wanted to see how you’ve been.” the words hang in the air, waiting for mark to process them, and when he does it’s as if he’s had the wind knocked out of him. breathily, he recites a quiet, “oh i see,��� and then you shut the door square in his face, leaving him with only an equally quiet, “i need to use the restroom, be right back.”
mark thinks back to why he himself had agreed in the first place and he’s not sure how much of a role haechan’s little ruse had played anyways. he appreciates the honesty with which you answered because it gives him the space to be honest with himself as well. he’d agreed to go because a part of him wanted to see how you’d been doing as well, but he’d also agreed to go because a part of him simply just wanted to see you. the little stunt that haechan had pulled was just the tip of the iceberg of reasons that led to this whole ordeal, and mark thinks — or at least hopes — that that had been the case for you too.
when you return, freshened up and looking more lively than you had in hours, mark’s more prepared than the last time he’d thrown a haphazard question your way. you’re fastening your seat belt when he asks, “since we’re ahead of schedule, do you wanna go for a drive around the forest?”
he sees where it starts, slow in the upturn. what looks like the beginnings of a frown blooms into an easy smile. it doesn’t reach your eyes, but it doesn’t need to for mark to know that you mean it. “around?”
he smiles too, quick with a flash of teeth and a breathy chuckle. “in, i mean. in the forest.”
you let your head retract to facing frontwards, leaning back into your seat as you nod, “sure, let’s go.” folding the maroon blanket into your lap, you follow mark’s pointed finger until your eyes set on his backpack shoved under your seat. “there should be a map in there. can you be my guide?”
for a second, he thinks he’s being too greedy with your patience but your easy smile flattens to show complacency. “i can do that,” and you salvage the map from the front pocket of the mess of his backpack. seeing about an inch-thick stack of maps in the same compartment, you look towards him with your smile now edging towards a knowing tease. “you planned for this, didn’t you?”
mark shakes his head fervently though he can’t find it in himself to audibly deny. after all, number two on his bucket list is to visit all the national parks and forests the country has to offer. how could you have expected him to resist when passing by a city that sat directly under 1.5 acres of forest land? and with the extra time to spare, it was a given.
you have the map crinkled open on your lap as you load up the top destinations with your phone in hand. mark’s excitement seems to be rubbing off on you; his giddy smile lends into your glittering eyes, his drumming fingers on the steering wheel translating to your bouncy leg. twenty-four minutes north — one right turn and one left turn — later, you’ve successfully navigated the both of you to alley spring and mill, a three-story red statement with a clear turquoise spring tucked behind.
the summer heat licks at the nape of your neck when you first open the door. you grab the blanket, the charcuterie box, the bag of popcorn and — with a thought spared in consideration — the stack of cards shoved into the cupholder after tucking your phone into the waistline of your shorts. the rush of water grows louder as you approach, the uneven pavement ebbing off into scuffed dirt and then brustling grass further down the stretch. pausing a good distance away from the decades-old structure, you hear a sigh in wonderment coming from behind.
mark’s mamiya rz67 weighs down one hand, the other raised to his brow to deflect the glare of the sun. he has a sort of satisfied look to his face, one that only grows as he makes his way to catch up to you. “good find,” he comments, tearing his gaze away from the sights to meet your eyes. pride snuggles into the corners of your smile and you duck away from his stare. 
“lemme go find somewhere for us to settle down for a bit,” you hold up the blanket in gesture and then wave him off with another smile, “you go do your thing, don’t mind me.”
there’s a few people here and there coming in and out of the mill and a few more along the skirts of the spring, but you manage to find a quiet spot along the water with some trees to offer a decent amount of shade. it’s much cooler down here, where the spray disperses itself fresh from the water and into the air, and you drape the blanket over the mildly damp grass. spreading the contents of the charcuterie box across a napkin and pouring a portion of the popcorn into the now empty box, the setting begins to look as if it were all planned and not, in fact, an impromptu day trip that fell in motion less than a half-hour ago.
slipping your shoes off, you ease into the spot, appreciating the clear air while you can. if you shield your eyes, you can see mark in the distance with his phone held up to the red building to check the light settings. he takes a shot there in that position, and you swear you can hear the ka-shink! of his shutter even from this far away. nibbling a corner of brie cheese, you watch him closely as he jogs in a zig zag across the plot to find another interesting shot to frame.
mark gets six or seven more in before he rounds upon where you’re sat, having finally found the alcove of shade you’d claimed. he’s still holding his camera with one hand, the size of his palm making the five pound camera seem small. in the back of your mind, you can still recall the weight of it from a year ago as mark demonstrated how to advance the film for your first try at a shot. you remember how difficult it was to get the hang of medium format photography, much less the bothersome large format that mark used to haul around wherever he went.
“may i join you?”
snapped out of your momentary reminiscence, you glance up at mark as if you hadn’t even seen him coming your way. at the nod of your head, he takes his spot across the blanket with his legs criss crossed. the seconds tick away while your eyes trace the lines of his hands, moving familiarly to load a new film stock into his camera. the delicacy of his movements, the steadfastness of his grip, the roughness of his knuckles, and the baby soft pads of his fingers.
there’s nothing to do with his hands when he’s done with his camera so he resorts to fiddling with the folds of the blanket and occasionally reaching for a grape. mark looks a little lost, if you are to be honest. or at least, it seems as if he’s unsure of his presence; too scared of breaching boundaries thus he shies away from interactions altogether. his patterns of behavior are nothing new to you. and though there was once a time where you’d despise having to always be the one to coax him out of his shell of insecurity, you aren’t nearly so distressed to do so when there’s no strings attached, no long withheld feelings that come with it.
“when should we get back on the road?”
mark looks up at you in surprise and relief floods his face when he realizes no sign of annoyance in your expression. as if he were taking a firm hold of the hand you’d extended, he responds kindly, “it’s best if we go before five, so we can take our time on the road.”
you check your phone and the time reads a quarter past four. scrolling down your notification screen to see if you missed any important messages, you find about four consecutive texts from haechan, sent just before you woke up from the six hour stress nap you inadvertently took. 
【 2:06 PM 】 bro u good? 【 2:06 PM 】 mark told me what happened 【 2:06 PM 】 should i beat him up for u? haha 【 2:08 PM 】 call me when u get a chance ;)
shutting off your phone, you retrace your attention back to mark. he’s the spitting image of a kid whose one and only friend didn’t show up to school today, hence he had to sit at his own table during lunch. you chuckle under your breath at the thought and he happens to hear, giving you a raise of his brow to which you only shake your head in dismissal.
so badly do you want to just clear the air — his newly uptight demeanor being a nightmare to get along with — but you know better than anyone how avidly mark avoids confrontation at all costs. to bring it right to his front steps is just asking for uncalled-for frustration. you zip your lips, and eye your surroundings, hoping for a topic of conversation to jump out at you.
sure enough, the red boldface catches your eye and it lingers. who says confrontation is the only way to subdue the tension? sometimes all you need is a little fun. and what’s better than a game to do just that? you place a hand atop the deck and wait for mark to recognize your intentions before softly suggesting, “your turn?”
the expression he dons is a bit squirmish as he reaches for the cards, but you can tell that he’s glad his careless words hadn’t ruined the game for you forever. his fingers make quick work in shuffling them neatly and, face down, he draws one from the pile at random.
“what do you think is the hardest part of what i do for a living?” 
mark glances up at you from the card expectantly and you’re thrown off guard for a moment. “i answer? i did the last one though.”
he only laughs, “yeah i know. but even if i wanted to answer, i couldn’t. you don’t have a job.”
“oh that’s right,” you smile, masking a tinge of embarrassment at your late realization,” okay, i’ll answer it then.”
you cross your legs like his and pluck a grape for your fingers to play around with. momentarily in thought, you realize that there’s not much to the question, not when pertaining to mark and not when asked to you.
“the thing is, i’ve seen a lot firsthand. and i think you know what i’m going to say.”
it’s his turn to be thrown off guard with wide eyes and a hand to his chest, “i do?”
nodding, you pop the grape into your mouth to give leeway for your thoughts to string into words. shortly after swallowing, the words follow in suit, “i mean, you love your job and from what i remember, it pays your bills. which is great, it’s really great.” careful with your next words, you approach them with caution, “but at the same time, i think — and correct me if i’m wrong — i think...it’s put a strain on some of your relationships.”
mark doesn’t look the least bit surprised. in fact, you’re sure he’d known the answer the second after he read the question. hardly disappointed, he smiles wide when your eyes brim with uncertainty. reassuring you, “you’re right on point,” and then nudging you along, “i still want you to elaborate on it though.”
“okay,” you smile back at him, mostly in relief, “i know this is pretty personal, but since you insist…”
and so you trailed on about what you knew. on how his job drove a wedge between him and his parents. on how they told him it was one thing to chase after your dreams, and a whole other to let your dreams crush you. but to him, dropping out of college didn’t make those two semesters a waste of time and money. rather, he thought that going to college in the first place made it easier for him to realize it wasn’t the path he wanted to walk. there were always going to be times where he wouldn’t be able to make ends meet but that was nothing to him if he could have the support of his friends and family to do what he loved most.
you knew very well that a “strain” was a light way to put it. his parents cut him off at nineteen when they realized he wouldn’t be returning to school. as most parents would be, they were worried but unwilling to financially support their son who they no longer believed in. his mom still brings stacks upon stacks of tupperware kimchi and side dishes each month and his dad still passes money under the table at family dinners. but for some reason, they could never look him straight in the eye.
“do you ever feel like they betrayed you?”
“no, never,” he declares almost immediately. “it’s easy to think that they did. it’s harder to really feel that way when i know how much they love me. it’s just that we value different things.” mark says it so convincingly that you nearly dismiss the suspicions behind your question. when you meet his eyes and they are dark and glossed over, you start to believe them a lot more than what he’d just said.
seeing his pain resurface as if it were there the whole time, you’re reminded of the guilt you carry for breaking up with him at perhaps the most vulnerable point in his life. knowing that mark could never blame you for it, you blame yourself in his place.
looking down from his gaze, you hold your left hand in your right, imagining it as his, and hope that just the thought of wanting to hold his hand offers him some comfort, in some sort of cosmically significant way.
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「 DAY 02, 10:34 PM 」 — TOMAYTO TOMAHTO
mark drove past the ‘welcome to oklahoma’ sign at 7:30 PM. between cherokee and muscogee nation, he considered stopping at tulsa for the night instead of oklahoma city, the capital. it was around 9:00 by then and you were still fairly energized; he took from that to continue even though it was you who slept through the day, not him.
in your search, etrip.net claimed holiday inn to be $19 for a two person room, seemingly a ‘too good to be true’ deal for a four-star hotel with an indoor pool. you booked it anyways — though only after confirming that he was fine with sharing a room — and keyed in the address into google maps for mark to follow. 
when you look out the window less than a half hour to your destination, it’s near pitch black, save for the distant outlines of buildings behind large fields of what you assume to be grass. the two of you are just outside the city and when you roll down the window; the air is rather cool and crisp for a summer night. there’s a truck in front of your car with a shipment of fresh tomatoes and the scent of them wafts sweetly in the dawdling air.
basked in a comfortable silence for the first time during this whole trip, you feel that summer break has finally started. the days are long and long gone are your day-to-day worries about when this assignment is due and how much this exam will affect your grade. in hindsight, they were all passing worries, things that never irked you for long enough to be significant. and now that you had finally made peace with it all — moved on, and slowed down — the world seems much more pleasant, less frantic, and more at ease than you remembered. it’s quiet and you’re happy.
glimpsing to your left to check how mark’s holding up, the first thing you’re met with are his wide, frenzied eyes. you trace his line of sight whilst venturing to ask, “you good?” before noticing the oblong shape that’s been planted straight into the dead center of the windshield. upon further scrutiny, there’s a redish secretion that’s oozing down the glass. 
“y/n...what the fuck is that?”
the two of you are stunned in your seats, frozen at the thought of what it could possibly be. (a hockey puck! a donut! a scoop of ice cream! a bloodied body part?!) though soon enough, your conscience returns in time for you to register it as a tomato, straight from the truck ahead.
“holy shit,” mark mutters, and he begins to slow the car down and away from the alleged source. a second hits, (“fuck!”), right where your head would have been if not for the window. the third and fourth follow shortly, splatters sounding more like fist-sized rocks under the sheer force of impact. mark sees you ducking and dodging, this way and that, and his blood pressure sky rockets as a huge portion of his side becomes slathered in goop.
both of you are screaming at this point, mark has no way of knowing when the road will curve, and he’s still going seventy miles per hour, occasionally speeding faster whenever a jolt of adrenaline hits too hard and he loses fine control of his foot on the gas pedal. “roll up the damn window!” and your fingers fumble around for the button, almost opening up the whole door in the process.
you swerve your head right after the window’s safetly shut to see if anyone’s tailgating. “pull over, mark. there’s no one behind us.” and when the car comes to a stop, the two of you are panting uncontrollably, despite having barely moved for hours. there are no thoughts running through your mind — absolutely none, zero — when you turn your head to meet his eyes. and the second you do, the two of you burst into laughter, in utter disbelief at what just happened.
still breathless at the thought, your hand comes to your mouth in belated shock. the aftermath is disastrous. cautiously opening the door, you can spot remnant tomato juice dripping from the bottom edge. mark rounds the car twice in inspection, only to find that every last corner of his precious subaru crosstrek is coated in a sheen of red except for the back, bottom, and some of the top. the meager stack of napkins you saved from earlier in the day does the best they can, sweeping off most the meat but none of the juice. the scent doesn’t seem so sweet anymore when it’s all you can smell from a mile away.
you notice that mark has been standing in the same position for the last four minutes, unmoved with both hands on his hips, sweat gleaning from his brow, and a distant look in his eyes. you fear speaking up will spook him into tears. luckily, he speaks first. 
“y/n.”
“yeah?”
“can you find the nearest coin-op car wash on my phone?”
“okay.”
“i’ll…” he trails off into a breathy laugh, that kind of echoed laugh that makes you want to give him all your hopes and dreams, support and love. “...i’ll be here for a bit.”
you clamber back into the passenger seat, careful not to transfer any of the liquids indoors. his phone is mounted on a stand and you pry it off, wondering how you would get past his passcode. you key in his birthday, a reasonable first try, but the lockscreen doesn’t budge. pressing your lips thin, you try to recall what his password had been way back then. mark was never one for unnecessary changes; he held onto his possessions and habits stubbornly.
after an aha! moment comes a moment of doubt. to get the code right was one thing, but you weren’t sure how you’d feel if it was indeed unchanged. shrugging off the hesitation, you press in the four numbers anyways, and sure enough it unlocks.
dumbfounded, your hands drop into your lap and your vision stills, zoned out on the curve of the steering wheel. it’s hard to really understand what you’re feeling and it’s even harder to discern mark’s intentions behind keeping his passcode set as your birthday after all this time. the signs have been there—and you had kept to avoiding them—but now is the first time you’re facing the possibility that mark still has feelings for you. and even just the thought of how it doesn’t disturb you greatly warrants extra precaution on your end. 
mistakes are made so that they won’t be repeated.
you repeat the sentence to yourself perhaps five times over, and carry on with locating the nearest coin-operated car wash station as per his instruction. mark got in the car five minutes later with a small smile on his face. “it is what it is,” as he had put it. with only thirty minutes left, the car ride resumes in silence though this time around, there’s nothing comfortable about it. the man next to you is humming along to some john mayer song, oblivious to your disconterting mood that was induced solely by him (and partially by you, if we’re to be crystal clear).
deciding not to get too worked over it, you fixate, instead, on playing word games with haechan. time passes quickly as you win most of the rounds, half the time wondering why he’s even still awake when it’s already fairly late in his timezone. you make a mental note to call him when you get settled at the hotel, sooner the better if anything.
mark manages to hum along to every single song that comes up on the radio, sometimes even singing with a full voice and vibrato. you’re partially relieved that he’s no longer so on edge around you, also aware that now it’s you who’s way too in over your head. figuring that it wouldn’t be much of a problem once you call it a night, you move past your concerns and finally take a glance up from your phone.
marvelling at the ever-changing landscape on the other side of the window, your mouth falls agape at how the bare grasslands have since given away to streets among streets of buildings. you can peer even further down, where the city lights of oklahoma city make out a twinkling night sky, replacing the stars with their light pollution. devon tower stands the tallest and most discernable of the skyscrapers and for a second, your troubles melt away as you fall captive to The Big Friendly.
long past rush hour, the streets downtown are jam packed with both cars and pedestrians, forcing mark to brake every other second. the city night life in oklahoma feels warmer than the busy new york city had ever been. flourescent signs flash bright in invitation for you to enter, people flood the streets, swarmed with laughter and filled with good food. you keep a smile to yourself as this tedious road trip begins to feel a little more like a long-anticipated vacation.
marks pulls up at the coin wash station you’d found for him earlier. with it being a ten minute’s distance from the city’s main streets, the surrounding areas are quiet at this slow hour. when you reach over to unbuckle your seat belt, a hand comes to stop you and with a patient smile on his face, mark simply tells you, “wait here, i’ll clean it up real quick,” as he slips out of the car.
given no time to react much less disagree, he shuts the door behind him and you end up sitting in the car by yourself, watching mark as he busies around with his coins and then gets to hosing down the red streaks striping his car. presumably, they had dried in the wind. what a sight his car must have looked like, rolling through the city streets as if it’d been dunked in ketchup.
you get the idea then, while you’re idling around, to call up haechan quickly while you have the moment to yourself. if you could be curt with him, beat around the bush like the annoying little brat you are, you’ll have no problem with wrapping up the call within the next five to ten minutes it takes for mark to get the car scrubbed and shiny.
the phone rings a whopping total of seven times before he picks up. you put him on speaker and the groggy voice you’re met with is a telltale sign that you’ve freshly awoken him. “the fuck you want? i just fell asleep, you cow.” at least he went to bed, you think, whilst turning his loud ass voice off speaker and bringing your phone to your ear.
“woah, no need to be so vulgar. you’re the one who told me to call you.”
you hear a scoff coming from the other end. at his next quip, his voice is no longer groggy, now boasting a new tone of feisty. “yeah. i meant when i’m actually awake and willing to answer. bye, i’m hanging up now.”
“hey,” you whine, “you’re awake and i’m free right now so let’s just get it over with. what did you want to talk about?”
there’s a clear pause of deliberation on his end, only for less than three seconds though. “how’s it going with mark? i heard he made you cry.”
you sigh into the receiver, fingers having found the rim of your water bottle and decidedly tracing the cap around and around. “so he told you everything, i see. he just brought up some bad memories and i got overwhelmed in the moment. it’s all cool now.”
the line goes silent for while longer and the blasting hose outside just happens to shut off at the same time. you look up from your water bottle and through the shower of water, mark’s peering in with a sponge in hand, gleeful eyes greeting you hello. you give him an absentminded wave in return with your free hand.
usually, haechan had too much to say about everything but to your surprise, he only ponders with a lilt, “...it’s all cool?”
“it’s all cool,” you confirm. mark sweeps his sponge-equipped arm across the length of the windshield, the thick lather of bubbles building a wall between you and him. but just as his fingers dot two eyes and a big smile into the soap for you to see, haechan synchronizes, “so you guys are getting along?”
mark peeks into one of the holes to see you smiling as wide as the playful smiley face he’d drawn, the same one that was now at the mercy of the drooping liquids. contradicting your ear-splitting grin, you remark offhandedly, “we agreed to be friends.” and after a beat, you fill in the missing blanks, “for the sake of this trip, i mean.”
“friends…” haechan seems to have his panties in a twist today, for he’s pausing at all the weird moments, saying all the weirdest things. you can almost imagine the shake of his head as he cryptically states, “that won’t do.”
“what won’t do?”
the hose water is turned back on as mark directs it right at the windshield this time. you almost shriek in surpise, barely catching the click of his tongue that haechan gives. after dousing the windows clean, mark reaches for the snow broom to shimmy off the remaining water droplets. going row by row, he gives you a sore attempt at a wink when you meet his eyes. you supress your giggles as haechan’s dissatisfied voice soars past your ears without much thought.
“how can you be just friends with him when you still like him?”
you’re in no mood to be taking him seriously, so you end up saying the first thing that pops into your mind. “i’m pretty sure he’s the one that still likes me.”
“well you’re not wrong there.”
mark throws in another silly face — a really blown out toothed smile — and you decide then that you should probably end the call soon before haechan drags you into another discussion of who’s still hung up on who and who’s still in love with who. you decide then that, for tonight at least, you want to set aside the messy feelings and just have fun. because that’s what’s easiest when you’re with mark lee.
momentarily forgetting that you’re still on call, you hastily ramble out a quick, “hey i gotta go, something came up,” and the eye roll that haechan’s sure to give is predictable as it is true. “fine,” he deadpans, “talk to you later. or not, i don’t know maybe something will come up and i’ll forget about you for two weeks.” and with that, he hangs up right as mark reenters the car, eyes all shimmery and filled with glee.
“you have fun out there?”
he messes around with a few wet tips of his hair. “a lot of fun, actually. you should help me out next time.”
your heart races messily and mercilessly at the thought of ‘next time,’ so much so that you only have enough mindpower to muse absorbedly, “maybe i should.” he gets his seat belt buckled and you cap your water bottle after taking a long swig. 
“so…” mark starts whilst pressing the start engine button, “who was that on the phone?”
“haechan wanted to know if we were ripping each other’s hair out yet.”
mark chuckles, reversing the car out of the small lot. his eyes tell you he knows that a lot more than just that was discussed, but he resists prying to a certain extent. “so what’d you tell him?”
“well...” you take a moment to admire his side profile, his one hand resting casually on the wheel, and the gentle way his lips curve into a smile when you say, “i told him that i still have a full head of hair.”
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「 DAY 03, 12:00 AM 」 — YOU ARE MY SOUVENIR, MY PROOF THAT I WAS HERE
what etrip.net forgot to mention was that the $19 you happily gave away was actually just a reservation fee, and not — as they had deceived you into thinking — the actual price of the room. you direct a sheepish smile towards mark as the bright-faced young man at the front counter charges $124 on your card. evidently, the internet is why you have trust issues.
the hotel sits right in the belly of downtown oklahoma city, with the touristy bricktown district only two blocks away. you’re given a card key to a spacious room with a queen sized bed draped in a crisp and plush duvet. from the updated appliances to the chic furniture and decor, every corner of the room smelled like fresh lemon verbena.
“i guess this is what you get when you pay top dollar.”
mark nods dazedly, but at the mention of money, he snaps out of his haze. “here,” he fishes out his phone from his back pocket, “i’ll transfer you the $62.”
you recline into the white lounge chair in the corner of the room. a ding! sounds from your bag that you’ve set on the floor besides you, signaling the transaction. eyes now closed in respite, you direct your “thanks” towards no one in particular.
there’s no couch this time, despite having paid a ridiculous amount, so mark sets himself atop the left side of the bed. he rummages through the front pocket of his backpack until he draws forth a thin booklet with a giant OKC in bolded yellow on the front. as he remembered, there’s a checklist list on the second page that covers all the must-do, must-see activities and locations that oklahoma city has to offer. 
mark looks up at you, then back down at the book, then back at you and back down at the book. he knows you well enough to see that you’ve yet to fall asleep. but give it another two or three minutes and the snores will catch up to you. but before those two or three minutes round upon him, mark decides that he has nothing to lose. if you want to come, you’ll come. if not, he still has a whole city to plow through in one night.
“hey.” there’s a hand on your shoulder and it’s shaking you lightly. distantly, you think that you’ve entered a state of lucid dreaming. a second after, the voice returns to say, “y/n, wake up,” and you’re conscious enough to recognize it as mark’s. willing your eyes to open, he’s hovering right above you with apprehensive eyes. “let’s go out.”
still not quite awake and still unsure of what you just heard, you blurt rather obtrusively, “what?”
“i mean...i mean like let’s go out out,” and he gestures to the window to make his point clearer. “we can get late dinner, or really early breakfast, or just walk around for a bit.”
not very convinced, you only frown at him. in turn, he’s prompted to ramble on further. “okay, but when’s the next time you’re visiting oklahoma?”
“like… never,” you drawl out slowly. mark nods fervidly as if there were a right answer and you were at the precipice of discovering it. impatient or in sudden fervor, he exasperates, “exactly! so you should make the most of tonight and see what it has to offer.”
he’s like an overly enthusiastic salesman and you decide that even if it’s just to please him, there’s no harm in playing tourist for a few hours; you could sleep as much as you want on the road anyways. you give in, “okay fine,” and watch as he pumps a fist not-so-covertly. “gimme like five minutes to change first though.”
by the time you meet him at the lobby, mark’s switched out his tour guide booklet for his phone, having loaded up all the destinations in preparation. the warm air outside is breezy to a fault and the wind picks up your hair and sloshes it this way and that. mark is quick to laugh but equally quick to tuck the wandering strands behind your ears. unknowingly, you blush and when you don’t break the stare, he breaks it for you. the tips of his ears are red when he looks away.
the first stop — a touristy jazz club — is closed for renovation, and the next one that you guys attempt had rebranded into a strip club. unease begins to nibble away at mark’s intial excitement, as his exhaustion and embarrassment collide to dampen his mood. the sidewalk crowd doesn’t care to part for two, so mark grabs hold of your wrist, leading you towards what he hopes is the final destination for the night.
mark finds his composure being built up and chipped away by your presence in the exact way he’d expected it to even before this whole ordeal of a trip. he can avoid your careful eyes and feign ignorance towards your attempts at civility, but he will never be one to deny to himself how much he still cares, how much he has always and will always care, about your opinion of him. it’s in the littlest ways that he hopes if not to impress you, then to make you smile at the least. mark doesn’t endeavor to lie to himself about that — that he wants you to smile and that he wants, even more so, to be the reason behind it.
he thinks he’s done a rather good job of accomplishing that tonight. from afar, “the flea” is but a green box with brick facing and a short line abutting the entrance. but upon entering, the ambiance of the bar feels rather like an old school arcade, with low ceilings and dimly colored lighting. it’s littered with games from pool to cornhole to connect four, and people are drunk and having fun. mark glances at you to gauge your liking, and supresses the urge to pump a lame and loser-ish fist at they way your eyes glisten in response to your lively surroundings.
he’s not sure if he’ll ever get the courage to apologize for the consequence of his thoughtless ramble from earlier in the day. and he knows that an apology is what you deserve. but in his own selfish and self-serving way, he hopes that this one night of drinking and games will at the very least make up for your soured impression of him.
you order two beers at the bar and amble over to mark, who’s found himself a spot at the darts corner. handing him the drink and taking a swig of your own, you query with a cocked eyebrow in the direction of the board, “wanna bet?”
taking the drink from your hands, mark deadpans, “you suck at darts.”
mouth full, you quickly swallow before laughing aloud, “maybe i got better, you never know.”
mark rolls his eyes in disbelief, but concedes nevertheless, “so what’s on the line?”
you take a quick scan around the room in consideration when a girl standing on the opposite side of the room by the pool table catches your eye. but not because she’s looking at you. feet crossed at the ankles and left hand swirling a half-emptied margarita, she has her sights set square on mark. a small smile dawns upon your face, and you turn back towards him. “you lose, you get her number.”
once glance around the room and he, too, knows who you’re talking about. maybe his heart sinks a little. and so he laughs. maybe he wishes you wouldn’t be so quick to write him off with another person other than you. mark takes a sip of his beer, and looks around the room once again. maybe he doesn’t mean what he’s about to say. “you lose, you get his number.” maybe he wants you to know that he still likes you, at least a lot more than the guy by the bar with the sleazy smile. 
you take a look at him yourself and decide that he wouldn’t be too bad of a punishment. some part of you felt the need to distinguish you and mark as two single friends who were just hanging out. the barrier needed to be defined after how it’d been ebbing between the extremes of exes and more than exes the whole day. it’s hard to say that you don’t like mark at this point. and that while any other guy could make you feel things, it would never amount close enough to what mark made you feel. 
but it’s even harder to say that you would want to get back together with him.
mark decides on a 200 point game and whilst you get off to a good start with two 20-pointers, mark beats you out by almost a hundred point margin to sum up the game. today, he feels up for admitting the truth to himself, for he knows well that he had tried his best to lose. but any further effort on that attempt would have made it obvious, as there was no conceivable way for him to out-lose your constant 1-pointers without suspicion. 
he watches as you down the rest of your beer before gesturing in the direction of the bar. he smiles back when you mouth, “i’ll be back,” over the blaring music. he knows why you’re being like this. he knows that it’s mostly his fault. he also knows that you’re doing this to protect yourself, that it’s not a means of punishing him. but mark accepts his punishment anyways, looking onwards as you approach the guy with a tap on his shoulder. he watches as the guy’s eyes rakes your figure in delight, sets a casual hand on your waist, smiles along to your cheesy pick up line.
but mark tears his eyes away before the guy can smash his greasy lips onto yours, or before you respond in kind. even seeing him lean in made mark sick to the stomach. he goes to retrieve the darts from the board and when he returns, you’ve returned too. “got it,” you show him the contact and number in your phone, “and i got a smooch on the cheek too.”
a small, “ew,” is all he can muster in his confusion of equal relief and disappointment. mark keeps you close for the rest of the night. you suggest many times that he go talk to this girl, or how that girl looks like his exact type. but you don’t seem to understand that mark only wants to talk to you and that you’re the only person in this room, or even in the world, he’d consider to be his exact type. you are nowhere near the understanding that mark has never felt this unlucky to be spending the night with a girl he wants but has lost the privilege to have.
you’re tipsy, with an arm linked with his and your head on his shoulder, as he walks the two of you back to the hotel. mark can’t tell you — at least not in this state — how he’s thought of trying again at least a million times. he’s come up with a million scenarios of how he’d somehow loop himself back into your life and slowly regain your trust for him. a million times over, he’d lost the confidence to follow through, always so sure that he would fall in the same patterns of negligence and immaturity. even so, he’s never wanted to try as much as he does right now.
he places your shoes by the bedside and slips off your dirty socks to add to the laundry. rummaging through your toiletries bag, he comes upon the micellar water and reusable cotton pads. he swipes it across your sleeping face to collect the makeup and extra debris, then washes the two pads and clips them on a hanger to dry. mark is dutiful in drawing the covers up to your chin, in pulling your hair back from your face, in everything a boyfriend would do.
mark is sober when he sets his lockscreen as the only thing he has to remember oklahoma city by: a photo of you, smiling at him.
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「 DAY 03, 8:21 AM 」 —  HIS APOLOGY
“what is the hardest truth you had to face this year?”
you place the card to the back of the deck after reading the question aloud. mark takes his eyes off the road for a split second to glance at you. fiddling with a used toothpick with your fingers, mark wonders when you started flossing after years and years of ignoring your dentist’s nagging. yesterday, he noticed you were using a different chapstick brand than what he remembered as your go-to. you wear your hair up more often, and you frequent warm-toned clothing as opposed to your routine neutrals.
the more time he spends around you, the more mark realizes he’s never felt this distant from you. in barely two days time, he’s been surprised by how much you’ve changed in the relatively short duration the two of you spent apart compared to the time you had spent together. mark’s even more surprised by how little he’s changed in comparison.
the thirty seconds you’ve taken to formulate a response — to decide your terms of vulnerability in just how much to divulge — weren’t nearly enough for mark to be prepared for what you were about to share.
you don’t look at him when you speak. with your eyes set on the passing hills just outside, your voice breaches lowly into the air and across the car, right to mark’s utter confusion at the first of your words.
“i’ve learned that no amount of love goes wasted. i’ve learned that bad, unfortunate, terrible things happen to good people everyday, most of the time for no reason.” when you next blink, there’s a thin film of tears that gloss your eyes. “i’ve learned that the same bad, unfortunate, terrible things can happen to the very people that you love, and that sometimes there is nothing you can do about it.”
he thinks he can hear your breaths, or some similar rhythm pulsing in the thickened air, taut with tension and the fragility of your words. two beats pass, then four, before mark confirms it to be your now labored breathing. it stops shortly after, and you continue speaking to your best ability, which even then amounts to very little. “i’ve learned…”
mark turns to look at you for a little longer than he should, and the composure with which you held your head gives out, the weight of his gaze somehow heavier than that of your circumstances. he’s never seen you like this. he doesn’t know what’s your reality, and that this car, this trip, this moment, is your escape. 
“i’ve learned what it means to grieve for someone before they’ve even passed.”
he doesn’t know that you’re running on stolen time. he doesn’t know, wasn’t there, never saw how your mom had given your hand a squeeze, feeble but certain. how she faults her poorly-timed illness. how she struggled to sit up to give your grief-stricken, heartbroken body a hug and a kiss goodbye, regretful she might never be able to rejoice in her daughter’s marriage, and yet grateful that at least her other daughter can rejoice in her stead.
when you find it in yourself to lift your head upright, mark takes in another glance at the puffiness around your eyes and the streaks running down your cheek to your neck. he knows he should free a hand to locate the tissue box or offer that hand in support but he can hardly breathe, much less move, when you start speaking again.
“it’s my mom. her cancer, it’s relapsed.”
for a few seconds, all he can hear is the white noise of his car tires on an endless expanse of road. it’s like your words dissolve into the noise, refusing their impact on his own ears, richocheting between reality and his imagination. mark holds so still that he might as well have stopped breathing, or thinking, or being. 
it’s only when he hears a sob escape from you that his gravity returns to him out of a sense of realized necessity. a sort of certainty courses through his veins when he pulls over the car. there’s barely anyone on the road to witness him exit and circle around to your side. mark moves with conviction when he pulls your door open, unbuckles your seat belt, and embraces you whole. neither of you register the tears leaking from his eyes nor the way his hands shake ever so slightly, because his expression has been set straight, and his body sturdy for you to lean on.
forehead pressed to his chest, you’re gasping for air and making all sorts of incomprehensible sounds of anguish. you weren’t sure of where your strength had come from to confide in him like that, after you’d dutifully dedicated yourself to a trip detached fully of worries beyond your control at home. but you know it now. in the way he pats down your hair, rubs circles into your back, holds all the same grief-stricken, heartbroken pieces of your body together like glue, you know that it’s because it’s mark.
he doesn’t yet know what he’s saying but it’s coming out of him anyways. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he panics even more when you’re shaking your head in his arms, your hitched breaths unable to let forth any words of disagreement. but mark shakes his head too. you don’t know.
you don’t know how much it hurts him. from his heart, in his bones, through every fiber of his being he feels it. his apology.
“i’m sorry for not being there when you needed me most.”
you make up for your loss of words by looking up at him, finally. his mask of placidity folds, first at the seams with the furrow of his brow, but then in full as his face scrunches into what can only be described as indescribable heartache. his shirt is fisted in your hands as you sob, “how could you… how could you have known?”
mark shuts his eyes because he doesn’t think he has it in him to bear witness to the misery written across your face. his heart hammers inside his chest, unpromising of any relief any time soon. he holds you together, closely, closer, until there’s hardly a hardly a point of separation between the two of you.
your question rings in his head, because it makes no sense, because it only makes him feel worse about the last year he’s spent alone, because even without you by his side…
“i should have just known.”
only now do you realize that your trust in mark is the one thing that could possibly nullify your entire messy history. in hindsight, it was obvious. you knew that if you told him, he would make it his duty to make you feel better. you told him because maybe that’s precisely what you wanted to feel. and maybe you needed mark, more than anyone, to hug you like this and to convince you that everything was somehow going to work out. because maybe, just maybe, you would begin to believe it for yourself.
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「  00:00  」 —  AMARANTH
it was something that you didn’t think was possible. to live with someone, to inhabit the same room, sleep in the same bed, and yet, to be so distanced to the point at which you were strangers.
sometimes he’d leave a mug on the kitchen counter, lukewarm coffee left idle. other times the tv would be left on when you got home from class, or the shower was wet when you stepped in. it was these small things, like traces of a ghost, that reminded you of your relationship with mark, or what was left of it.
on the off chance that the two of you would meet face-to-face, he was always reserved to himself. a few small apologies, maybe a peck to your lips, and always a search for reassurance — that you would’t leave him, that you wouldn’t understand where he was coming from, that you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose.
the it was complicated. on the surface, the it was his absence in the physical sense. despite dropping out from college and having a suddenly abundant amount of free time, barely any of that time was spent with you. despite moving in to your apartment after being cut off financially from his parents and being forced to move out of the school dorms, the it was him rarely being at home. mark was always out on some unnamed errand, or to shoot at some far away location, hours away from anyone and anything. 
but under all that, the it was his inability to face himself and his future head on. the it was his latent realization that there were consequences to his impulsive and headstrong decisions, more than he had the foresight to think of, more than what he was capable of dealing with at the time. the it meant that he was incapable of putting any of these feelings to words, and even more so unwilling to say these words aloud to you.
mark didn’t know how to tell you he was lost without feeling like he had lost the one thing that was left of him — his dignity. he had held his head high when he’d passed word around that he would quit school, certain that it wasn’t the right path for him. he had held his head high when he had left his parents’ house, his childhood home, after his own father had gotten on his knees to beg him to just finish up his degree, to hold out for one last year. but he couldn’t even admit to himself, much less you, that he didn’t know what to do with himself after all his bravado had worn off.
it was an adulthood thing, he’d much later come to understand, his own version of a dramatic coming of age movie where he needed to lose himself in order to find himself. and it led him to the job of his dreams: somewhere between a full-time photographer and a part-time influencer, traveling the world, capturing it on film, documenting his process and growth journey for others to be inspired by. ever so passionate and devoted to his work, mark poured his whole into perfecting his craft. and only when he emerged atop the hill he had climbed all by his lone self — without a degree and without the support of his peers and parents — did mark realize that he had lost the one person that would have supported him through anything. you.
but the damage had been done. at that point, there was no such word in the english dictionary that could remediate the month and a half of unexplained absence. in response to his silence and refusal to confide in you, you had withdrawn from the relationship yourself, having given up on getting him to clue you in and having to deal with your own problems as well. 
it was too late for mark to say anything about it, far too late for any verbal apology to make up for it all. mark figured that his actions would speak louder than his words ever could.
at the height of summer, the sun couldn’t have shone brighter. it was that day where you had come to understand that mark’s place of refuge had never been the apartment you thought you’d both called home; it was the lake. the emerald lake would have a special feature in the photobook that mark would publish months after the two of you had broken up. in his captions, he’d write that it was there that he would turn to when his thoughts overwhelmed him, when he didn’t have it in himself to face the world.
and it was beautiful, in the most heartbreaking way, to see for yourself that in his most vulnerable state, he had turned to these waters and these winds. it was most beguiling, in the most earth-shattering way, to watch as he submerged himself bare in the water, to realize that he could never bare his heart to you, didn’t know how to, didn’t want to, didn’t care to.
he didn’t understand how badly you wanted to love him for everything that he was. he was too proud to let you see the worst parts of him, too proud to let you love the worst parts of him.
to him, the water was a symbol of renewal. to bring you here, where his heart lay, meant that he was opening back up to you, urging to you enter his waters. to you, it was a symbol of cleansing. to enter the water where you were beckoned meant washing off all the grief and bitterness that had accumulated towards the tail end of your relationship. you hadn’t yet figured out where you stood with him, if you still loved him, or if you even knew him well enough to say that you still loved him. 
it was ill-fated timing, really. your mom was diagnosed with hodgkin’s lymphoma, not even a week after what mark believed to be the turning point of your relationship. you had called him from the hospital, voice thick with affliction, rambling about chemotherapy and medical bills and breaking the news to your sister and everything else that had brought your world to a standstill. and yet in the midst of all your despair, mark could not for the life of him string together a single sentence.
later revealed, her cancer was at an early stage, so one round of chemotherapy was enough to quell it into remission. it wasn’t, however, easy on your family in terms of the financial burnden and emotional turmoil that steadily built over her four months of treatment.
all of this, mark would only hear of through haechan, for your relationship had ended the moment you had hung up that call.
blocking his phone number and social medias was the easy part. the hard part was convincing haechan to let mark move in with him. it was completely and utterly stupid and unreasonable, according to him, to end a fully committed relationship just because the guy couldn’t formulate a response to your trauma dump. “why?”
“because he’s emotionally constipated,” was the easy answer with an easy counter that haechan was sure to give, “but you knew that even before dating him.”
you sighed. however impossible, you could hear his impatience over the phone. it was enough to get you to be fully honest with your best friend. “he can’t talk to me. he can’t be honest with me. he can’t look me in the face and say ‘i’m sorry.’ tell me, hyuck,” your breath picks up and you’re mere seconds away from sobbing, “tell me, how am i supposed to come home from the hospital everyday and tell my sob story to a fucking wall?!”
later that day, haechan came over to your apartment to pick up all the belongings of your ex-boyfriend. you had dumped him because your life was in no state to house someone who didn’t know how to shoulder a burden. you had dumped him because, for the sake of your well being, you could no longer put up with his inability to communicate openly with you, to tell you what he was feeling, to tell you to ease your worries, or even just to tell you that he loved you.
but even now as you’re sat in the passenger seat of his car, if mark told you he didn’t love you anymore, you probably wouldn’t believe it.
you know it in the way he looks at you, with eyes so tender and attentive to your every motion, ears perked at every intonation, and heart worn bare at the foot of his sleeve. these were all made fact from the moment you first stepped in his car, when the simple idea of seeing him still made you apprehensive and guarded.
but with how low your defenses have since dropped, there’s no reason left to deny that mark wouldn’t believe you either if you told him you didn’t love him anymore.
and you can’t say it’s any sort of impulsive feeling, or an effect of loneliness that’s gotten the best of you. it’s evident to you now that the mark beside you is not the same mark you fell in love with. he is a result of your breakup, the one thing that he could not bury away with the rest of his feelings. the one thing that, if he ever turned to the lake for refuge, would only haunt him in the form of the memory of you that day. he could not run from the torment of losing you, because it had consumed him whole.
the mark beside you gave you your space when you needed it, and held you close even when you didn’t know you needed it. he still is awkward in responding to your questions, but he responds nonetheless. he apologized.
he’s not the same mark you foolishly fell in love with, overlooking his weakness until it ruined your relationship. the mark beside you is someone you have the choice of falling in love with, in full admiration for his growth and strengths, so much so that it begs the question:
what do you do when the reason you broke up with your ex no longer exists?
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「 DAY 03, 12:47 PM 」 —  WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?
“thank you.”
mark jolts in his seat, though he keeps enough of his cool only to answer somewhat lamely, “uhh… for what?”
“for comforting me.”
mark doesn’t look over at you. he can’t. he’s afraid of what you have to say, of what’s to become of your fleeting friendship, of the boundaries he’d overstepped. so he merely brushes it off, hoping you don’t read too much into his actions to feel uncomfortable about it. “oh that? it was nothing, no need to thank me.”
but you look over at him, and continue to, for seconds or even minutes on end. the profile of his face is perfect to you, round eyes, the slope of his nose, an equally boyish and nervous smile playing at his lips. you could almost cry, again; this time at the irony of how your break up was so ill-fated by time, but your reunion so auspicious.
“it was not nothing to me. it was… everything.”
now he looks over at you with curious eyes, but you just shake your head slightly. “it just meant a lot to me. that’s all.”
mark returns his gaze up front. he’s still nervous, afraid, and ever so conscious of you, but at the very least, he’s glad that he seems to have successfully communicated his care for you. in silence, you’ve spent the last three hours switching between playing sudoku on your phone and annotating a red-covered book titled all about love by bell hooks with a pink pen. 
until a few seconds ago, mark hadn’t had any insight whatsoever as to how you were feeling, whether you wanted more space to yourself, or if you wanted to just put it behind you and move on to cheerier conversations. and with bated breath has mark awaited some sort of sign that you were doing okay. now, as if given the green light, he sighs in relief and begins to speak, almost a little too eager to be able to strike conversation with you again.
“we’re almost halfway through texas now. well, the tip of it.”
the view just outside is completely flat for as far as the eye can perceive. blocked with only two colors, the vivid blue sky is completely void of any cloud, just as the dirt ground is void of any plant. seeing the landscapes change restlessly before your eyes over the past few days has felt like putting your life on double the speed, and the constant and unchanging blue and brown just outside feels like a welcome contrast. in all the flurry of this trip, you yearn for a moment to reorient yourself. and so you ask, “where are we staying tonight?”
“not sure yet, but if you want to you can look up some hotels in new mexico.”
you ponder the suggestion to yourself before suggesting an idea of your own, “how about we go camping? i saw your gear in the trunk.”
it’s gradual and awfully subtle, but you watch intently as the corners of mark’s lips upturn into a small smile. you even take note of how the sunlight from outside catches in his eyes, a small glint that gives his whole countenance a boyish radiance. he chuckles under his breath, simultaneously spotting a sign on the right side of the road. there’s almost a singing undertone in the way he says, “wanna take a break somewhere, grab some food, and plan something?”
you notice that the smile is still on his face as he sits across from you at a wendy’s in the middle of amarillo, thirty minutes later. in the same plaza there happened to be a taco bell and a denny’s, with an ihop and mcdonald’s across the street, inciting a fifteen minute heated debate as to which would make you less likely to vomit all over his car. in reality, there was no right answer. they were all wrong, but mark lee isn’t usually one to win arguments.
he has a few travel brochures splayed on top of the table, though he spends more of his attention typing into his phone and scribbling down notes on a yellow post-it. while he put himself in charge of finding a suitable camping spot somewhere in eastern new mexico, mark put you in charge of something you couldn’t mess up, and something you thought was too easy for the high paygrade of your company.
you did it begrudgingly and anyways, opening up the notes app on your phone, not all that happy to be left with the comparatively more boring job of coming up with a list of things to buy. with some on-the-go food options and a blanket on the list, you contemplated what kind of alcohol would most appropriately suit the occasion, looking up from your phone in time to catch mark as he did the same. briefly, your eyes met across the table.
he knows you both thought of the same thing. you must have. 
he’s the only one who knows he didn’t actually need to study for any of his finals that semester, with most of them being projects and the only outlier being a general education psychology course. but mark was at the library every day and night with you, knowing you were scared shitless for your first week of finals as a college student. you were in two completely different majors, with no overlapping classes or even departments, and yet he was there, quizzing you on your human anatomy or art history notes. you’d get all in your head about the answers, rethinking and doubting yourself. and then you’d look up at him, eyes meeting across the table just the same as now, and you’d say the correct answer.
and there was that one time, in the complete silence of the top floor of the main library, where mark had slipped you a post-it note, eyes attentive and lips pulled into a line as he watched you read over his penned question. and as always, you had said the correct answer. i would love to go on a date with you.
just like back then, you smile at him brightly and fondly from across the table. mark looks taken aback for a second, either reeling or pleasantly surprised by thought of the memory. he takes a bite of his burger, chews a bit, then swallows roughly. you look back down at your screen and quickly type ‘soju’ before setting your phone down, figuring something stronger than beer would be able to get more truths out of you that wouldn’t escape so easily when sober. seeing as how this trip had you revealing more than you expected, even going as far as confiding your most vulnerable self to mark, you wish he would let go of some of his own thoughts as well.
mark sets his phone down too, as you rummage through your bag to find the red box you’d taken from the car. he watches as you set it on the table and after recognizing it, quips almost incredulously, “you still wanna play? after all that?”
“well i was thinking i could use a break from answering.”
“you want me to answer?” he quirks an eyebrow up, and you pass the set of cards over to him. barely shuffling, he draws a card at random and his eyebrows move again, this time to furrow as he skims the question. mark reads aloud, “how old do you feel, emotionally?”
it’s a question that you yourself can’t answer for him, even if you wished to. there’s no way for you to tell what kind of changes had occurred between then and now, but at the very least you know that he’s years wiser than the mark that once sat across from you at the library. and that thought alone pulls at your heart incessantly.
after giving the question some thought, mark answers in all the ways you least expect him to.
“i feel like i know nothing.”
and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further.
“what?”
mark laughs a bit. it’s evident that his thought was underdeveloped, and so he develops it some more, “i feel like a newborn baby, but like… really smart.” he continues to make no sense, so you laugh at him. and then you’re both laughing. it’s sweet, really.
he had spent so long in that library with you, dutifully studying for what would be the easiest final exam of his life. mark reread his psychology notes so many times that week that they would be forever ingrained in his mind. but to you, the next thoughts he shares are completely out of the blue.
“you know like crystallized and fluid intelligence?” he pauses to laugh some more at the quizzical look you’ve thrown him. “like crystallized is like accumulated knowledge and stuff like facts, while fluid intelligence is like problem-solving and reasoning or something.”
now he really needs you to stop laughing because it’s infectious. “and what does that have to do with anything?” your laughter is especially infectious to him, because he really can’t bring himself to stop laughing despite the point he so desperately wants to make.
“just let me finish my thought, okay? and then you can laugh all you want.”
at that, you stifle your laughter by pressing your lips together, and all mark can think of is how cute you are. he pushes past that thought and does his best to sound like he’s not stupid.
“i mean like, i feel like i have a bunch of crystallized intelligence from being in the world for so long, but at the same time i have zero fluid intelligence. like i’m a newborn baby with all the knowledge in the world, and no idea what to do with it.”
and you catch on immediately, “so basically like… adulting? like facing the real world after being coddled your entire life?”
mark isn’t laughing anymore nor was anything he said that stupid, but he has this stupid dopey smile on his face. because if there’s one person that can comprehend his thoughts so completely and so easily, even as he uses the most unorthodox methods to explain them, it’s you. always you. only you.
and just like that you understood it all. the months he spent in solitude after dropping out of college weren’t spent alone, they were spent facing the real world. you had always been so bitter that he would rather endure those rough moments by himself than shoulder his worries with you, but you understand it now. and he didn’t even need to say much at all. mark had needed space to figure out himself, for himself. he needed to unlearn everything that people and society had told him about who he was, what he was good at, bad at, should or shouldn’t do, and for once, spend time to get to know himself. after all, how was he supposed to be in a relationship with you if he didn’t even have an idea of who he was?
sitting across from him now, you can see in full how mark’s grown into himself, his passions, and his work. he’s facing the world still, and will always be, but he is confident instead of prideful. he isn’t ashamed of what he doesn’t know, for he will learn in due time. he isn’t afraid of failure, because he knows he’ll only grow from it.
it’s astonishing how these past few days have brought everything into a full circle. in hindsight, the messy break up was really just what the situation called for. and this impromptu reunion turned out to be a miracle of timing, to the degree at which the both of you can’t help but think…
right person, right time.
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「 DAY 03, 10:12 PM 」 —  MY DREAMS COME TRUE (WHEN I’M WITH YOU)
you found it strange, but didn’t think too much of it.
it was like there was some foggy haze over everything, like a honeyed film that made your world a little sweeter, softer, and more precious. you had spent almost a full two years juggling your classes, extracurriculars, and family and relationship issues, flitting between school and home and the hospital and then repeating it all over and over until you couldn’t even trace when you’d gone a bit insane. to you, it was something between a secret orchestration of the universe and an answered prayer to find yourself out here, surrounded by cicadas and under the scorching sun.
to him, it was everything he could have asked for, and more.
sumner lake state park had his favorite hues of greens, blues, and browns. and you were grateful, for mark frequently paused your impromptu hiking trip to shoot on his camera, leaving you moments to catch a breath and take in the views along the lakeshore.
the sun had set at half past eight. that was almost two hours ago, and two hours after the two of you had luckily scored a spot at the eastside campground. whoever made the original reservation would forever have no clue as to what they helped achieve by simply not showing up.
it was like a dream, except you were awake. it was like a movie, except you were the star. it was like a book, except it wasn’t all about love. it was all about mark lee.
he has one hand holding his mug and the other on your thigh. again, there’s the glint in his eyes, this time sourced from the small campfire he’s made. the summer night is hot enough, but mark had insisted. “for the ambiance,” he’d said, “for the memories.”
this is how the memory will go. for whenever you think back to this moment, you will always remember the glow of the fire reflected in his eyes, the buzz of cicadas, the sound of the lapping lake, and his hand on your thigh.
you take a swig of your soju, face scrunching at the initially bitter taste. setting your mug down, you lean back on the palms of your hands and look up towards the sky. it reminds you of the color pencil set you used to use as a kid, the black you’d always confuse for a dark navy and the dark navy you’d always confuse for the black. and dotted with a white color pencil were the stars, shining one by one, all too similar to the light in his eyes.
the water of the lake reminds you of him. the leaves of trees he’d dedicated countless rolls of film to reminds you of him. the singing of birds, as soft as his mindless humming, reminds you of him. the sweetness left by the soju in your mouth reminds you of him.
maybe the world felt a little lighter on your shoulders when you were with him, and everything seemed a little brighter because of his bright eyes and carefree smile. he makes you feel like you’re a kid whose imaginative color pencil drawings of her dreams spin off the paper and turn into reality. like a kid who, in her heart, only has space for hope for the future.
and you think, that must be what it means to love someone. to see everything in a different light, to see only the best of situations, of people, of the world around you. and ultimately, to love the world, everybody in it, every thing ever created, because you love him. 
and so when he draws the next card, it’s the most ridiculous question ever.
“how did you get over your first love?”
you laugh a little, then gulp down the rest of the soju in your mug. wincing at the taste, you decide that it would do no harm whatsoever to be a little more honest with mark. compared to the first day you stepped in his car, back into his life, you now have a very good idea of how mark had changed, how he knew how to handle your feelings with care this time around. it’s a newfound trust, and you plan on exercising it.
looking him straight in the eye, you cock your head a bit to the left as if considering the thing you already knew you were to say. “i don’t think i’ve ever gotten over you.”
mark has no reaction. he just stares at you for longer and longer, until you tilt your head to the other side and he seems to remember that time hasn’t stopped for him. suddenly he’s also downing the rest of his soju, throwing his head back and gulping it down thickly.
truth be told, he used to be intimidated by the honesty with which you always spoke, but he thinks he gets it now. whether it be with other people or with himself, mark feared that the truth about his feelings, his pridefulness, or the nature of his insecurities weakened him. but at the end of the day, what good has avoiding the truth done for him? it was through losing the most sincere person in his life that he realized being forthright and overcoming the fear, the uncomfortableness, and sometimes the displeasure of being honest, made him all the stronger.
and it’s with these thoughts that mark is able to muster up the courage to regain your gaze with all the softness in the world. maybe it had a little to do with the alcohol in his system, but the words seem to slip right out of him. “i don’t think i’ve ever gotten over you either.”
you hold your gaze for only a few moments longer, for shortly after processing his words you break out into a grin so wide, mark can’t help but think the alcohol’s gotten to you too. and then you’re laughing a bit — whether out of relief or bewilderment, he can’t tell — but he’s glad. mark is glad to hear your honest answer, glad to give an honest answer back. he watches as you fully recline on the air mattress in the trunk of his car, looking onwards adoringly. there’s really no way to tell if he’s feeling this giddy because he’s drunk or because for the first time, there is no need to suppress his feelings for you. mark suspects it’s both, at the same time, in full effect. 
he grabs another card, reads it for all of two seconds. mark leans over to where you’re peering up at him and, smiling fondly, he tells you to, “close your eyes for a sec.” you think of the campfire, the cicadas, and the lake, but when you recall this night in memory, this exact moment is what you remember most vividly.
it was bound to happen. you just didn’t know it’d happen like this.
the air mattress isn’t uncomfortable, per se; it’s just that it feels hot against your skin. chills run down the length of your spine, but it isn’t the doing of the wind from the half-open windows. it’s mark lee and his lips on yours. his hand comes up to your arm feverishly, barely grazing it, and more chills ripple from wherever the rings on his fingers ghost your skin. 
mark stops for a moment. takes a breath. looks back up and peers into your eyes. he kisses you again.
you don’t know what to do except kiss him back. he has both hands on you now, the one on your arm and the other one on your neck. and he keeps kissing you, lips molding to yours with slips of his tongue here and there, gentle and prodding. he’s scared. for what exactly? he doesn’t know. maybe for his life.
his life, that you seem to be holding in your hands, the same hands that are now making their way around his waist. mark can’t breathe. the skin at the back of your neck is warm and soft to the touch, but he already knew that. he’s known it for so long. everything about you is familiar to him like a well-worn book or the lines of his favorite song. the sound of your voice is so low when the briefest of groans escapes you, but to mark it’s almost predictable. this is the you that he knows, the you that he couldn’t forget, the you that he lost.
mark can’t breathe, and so he stops kissing you. he mumbles an embarrassed, “i’m sorry.” he buries his head into your shoulder. he thinks he loves you. he knows he does.
but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud.
out of fear, he can’t tell you he loves you. it’s not the same fear that held him back from sharing any vulnerable side of himself with you, but instead the fear of losing you. even as you admit your lingering feelings and kiss him back like you’d never stopped, mark is filled with the fear of how overbearing he’d be if he fully leaned into his desire for you. he can imagine himself, in this same moment but in a million different universes, and in each one he messes up.
in one, he moves too fast by saying the words but he’s got the timing all wrong, and all of a sudden his feelings are a burden to you whose own feelings lack the depth of his. in another, he never says them at all, and this night marks the last of any intimacy he’ll receive for the rest of his life. in all of these universes, he knows why he kissed you, but he doesn’t know what you meant when you kissed him back. in all these universes, he wants, more than anything, to do right by you.
“sorry for what?”
mark lifts his head up to look you in the eye, and when he still fails to say a word, you tease him a bit to lighten the suddenly dour look on his face. “for kissing me? really?”
to your delight, he chuckles at that and shakes his head lightly. 
you can tell he has a lot on his mind, but his neck and ears are flushed red and you don’t mean to use his inebriation to pry the words out of him. you pat the empty side of the bed, “lay down, we should get some sleep.”
slowly and cautiously, he moves to the spot next to you. laying down flat on his back and staring at the darkened ceiling of his car, mark wonders if this is the universe where nothing happens at all and he misses his chance completely. he sinks into this feeling and almost lets it consume him whole when he realizes he’s the only person who has the ability to change that.
the blanket the you bought earlier in the day has been discarded by your feet, the summer heat imanent even in the dead of night. you don’t know how to process what just happened, and you don’t get a chance to. a warmth is felt along your side before you realize mark’s arms have found their way around your waist, bringing you closer to him. he nuzzles his face into the sleeve of your shirt, eyes closed and humming in satisfaction.
his voice is barely discernible when he mumbles, “i’m sorry if that caught you by surprise.”
the sound of cicadas chirping just outside fills the space between his apology and your forgiveness. “it’s okay. i didn’t mind it.”
mark shifts his position a little. he places a small kiss at the base of your neck. “do you mind this, then?”
though his eyelids remain heavy and all his words are slurred together, he’s more alert than he has been all day. he doesn’t hear your small laugh so much as he feels it pulse against him, and it fills him with much joy. perhaps this has been his superpower all along, changing his universe in small and big ways, however he desires. perhaps, as long as he is true to himself and honest with his feelings, he will always find a way to have you close by his side, feeling every rise and fall of your breath. 
that night, in the brief moments before sleep overcomes him mark decides that he will create a universe where you are his, happily, rightfully, and fatefully.
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「 DAY 05, 1:44 AM 」 — JUST TELL ME YOU LOVE ME
number three on mark’s bucket list — the one he made in his sophomore year of college — is to one day visit the svalbard islands. located in the arctic circle, the northernmost town in the world, called longyearbyen, goes about half a year without sunlight during its dark season. it is there that mark wishes to undergo the challenge of photographing in almost complete darkness, something he’s never quite been able to catch the hang of.
number four on his bucket list is to start a company that produces camera gear for his own needs, and for the needs of the many people he’s inspired with his work. number five on his bucket list is to buy an old ass subaru manual transmission wrx and fix it up until it’s perfectly to his liking.
out of all these ambitions listed on his bucket list that mark had told you about way back then – the previously mentioned visiting of all the national parks and forests, shooting in svalbard, starting a camera gear company, and owning a wrx — he’d neglected to tell you what tops his list at number one.
after two years, his bucket list remains unchanged, even the mystery number one: to complete everything on his list with you.
when you had asked a few days prior why mark hadn’t bothered moving out of nyc as it no longer served his needs, he had said you were the one reason he couldn’t part with the city. it had made you frustrated as to why he kept you in the equation even after your relationship came to a close, but more so confused as to why he still held you to such importance. 
you had spent the many months after the break up working hard at keeping your life together, removing all emotions, situations, and people that stood in the way of your priorities at the time, which were school and family. while that still holds true for you, mark’s priorities hadn’t changed either; you have continued to be a priority of his to this very day. and only now, when he’s right in front of you, do you realize this.
maybe it had been your insistence on moving on from him that you believed all his actions were nothing more than displays of his latent guilt. he’d send boxes of protein drinks to your front door, salves and balms for cracked skin, and woven hats for your mom who was undergoing chemotherapy at the time. and for you, there’d be the occasional uber eats ramen or chicken noodle soup that would arrive at your doorfront unprompted, and especially right at the times when you were up studying all night.
under suspicion, you had stopped complaining to haechan whenever you were feeling particularly tired or hungry, and the late night meals that were sent to your house lowered in frequency, and weren’t as punctual to your needs. mark wasn’t outright with anything, never showed up himself, or contacted you personally, but he wasn’t exactly discreet either.
only you, haechan, and mark knew your door code, for you hadn’t bothered to changed it after he moved out as there was no apparent need to. after the lightbulb in your kitchen went out and you had asked haechan a favor to buy you one at the nearest hardware store, you came home later that day to find it already fixed. knowing haechan was also busy with school and wouldn’t go to such lengths without further bribing, you had surmised it was mark and decided to put it to the test. the next time when your shower faucet started leaking, you mentioned it in passing to haechan and before the end of the week, it was good as new.
could it have counted as breaking and entering? that’s debateable. but you were aware of it and yet did nothing about it, rendering it legal at the very least. back then, you had given the vitamin supplements he had sent to your house to your mom, eaten every meal he bought you, and accepted all his covert services without a second thought, because you were firm in your belief that any form apology sent your way was useless in repairing the relationship you had put to a stop. you might as well accept it, move on, and wait until the day mark was no longer ridden with guilt, and no longer felt the need to perform such acts out as a result. 
that day never came, and it’s evident to you in retrospect that he did nothing out of guilt, but everything out of care, for your health, your well-being, and safety. his care, simply, for you.
it’s evident to you in the way mark exceled in his role as the passenger princess the entire day. after he lost another argument to you, you finally found yourself behind the wheel which, somehow, felt like the safest seat in his car. he fed you snacks, kept you entertained, put on all your favorite songs, and navigated the both of you safely to the white sands national park in new mexico.
mark kept an extra pair of sunglasses in the central console of his car. mark also had facial oil blotting papers in the glove box. in the trunk, there was an extra pair of sandals in your size, and a set of two fold-out camping chairs. the way he never stopped caring, it was as if you never broke up with him.
there is no city in the world that mark would rather live in, if you are not there. there is no national park he would ever visit, if you are not with him. he would freeze to death in the northernmost city in the world, without your warmth beside him. he would run his company to the ground without your input, and his favorite wrx becomes just another car without you in the passenger seat. all his life goals lose their meaning in your absence. this is how it’s always been for mark. this is why you are a priority to him.
even with his sunglasses on, the white sands were exceptionally bright. for the duration of 45 minutes, mark had guided you along the dunes drive, a scenic eight mile drive through the famed gypsum dunefield. the road conditions were harsher the farther you went along, and so he instructed you into the nearest parking lot, and swapped seats with you before going on. mark held your hand while driving, and he also squeezed it whenever he inevitably hit a bump here and there, as if in apology, as if it was his fault.
mark had kissed you again, with nothing but the white sands and blue skies in the backdrop. he’d taken pictures of you, using up his most expensive film stock on your priceless smile. he’d paid for the motel too, knowing you hadn’t initially wished for the trip to be more than three days, but wanting you to stay for yet another.
all of this has you wondering if you have it in you to care for him the way he cares for you.
you wonder how much importance he holds to you, how much of your heart you’d be willing to give to him, where your love for him would take you if you set it free.
as it turns out, your unanswered questions would be answered in the wee hours of the following morning. this is after mark had driven another six hours to ensure you would be able to make it to los angeles by the day after that to help with last minute preparations for your sister’s wedding.
you are in miami, a city in which — up until the last hour of your life — you had no idea existed outside of florida. you are in arizona, a state in which you would never have had a reason for visiting, if not for mark lee.
you are in a room, at the two-star rated el rey motel. and now you are in the bathroom, dimly lit by the dispersed light of a plastic water bottle placed atop your phone flashlight. you are in the bathtub, and though the water’s no longer hot, the temperature maintains its warmth from the heat emanating off your body. alongside mark lee’s.
it’s a forced darkness; the single lightbulb was out, and the early hour meant the motel staff had already retired for the night. with only one weak light source, the darkness of the room sets a tension so high that both of you are afraid to speak, much less move. but you put it upon yourself to break the tension, as it was your idea in the first place. bathing together.
the silence and the darkness combined makes it so every movement and every breath is unmistakeable and pronounced. the same applies to the sound of your voice when you start to speak, “thank you.”
all of a sudden, mark repositions himself. you can barely see it, but you hear the water sloshing and you feel it move about you. he’s sat across the tub, and you find it fascinating that even without light, his eyes still manage to shine. looking into them, you resume, “thank for everything you did, after we broke up.”
you can hear him swallow. the more you talk, the more you feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your emotions rising as you continue to speak, “and thank you driving me across the country, and for always being considerate, and for apologizing, and for…” your voice lowers to a bare whisper, “...everything. for everything you have ever done for me.”
“you don’t… you don’t have to thank me for anything.”
whereas your tears are at the precipice of falling, you notice that mark has begun crying. they’re silent, the way his tears roll down his left cheek. the water around you shifts, ebbs and flows, as you move closer to him and reach a useless wet hand to wipe his tears. you keep your hand on his cheek. and again, mark finds that he can hardly breathe, “i did it all… i did all of it, because i…”
mark breathes a sharp inhale, the air struggling to squeeze past the three words that remain lodged in his throat. he’s twenty-four now, and he’s still scared of the dark. but by no means is he scared of the monsters under his bed. without light, a camera has to resort to longer exposure times to piece together a full picture. without light, the human eye has to dilate to capture more of what is right in front of it. if his exposure is set too low and if his eyes fail to dilate, all that will remain will be a blurry image, uncertainty as to what was, nothing when there was actually everything. 
here in this bathroom, where there is nothing but you and him and a million unsaid truths, mark finds that he is terrified of losing what’s right in front of him to the darkness. again, he is most fearful of losing you.
both of your hands now cup his cheeks, bringing his face in line with your own. he has his arms around you, and you can feel his fingers pruning on the skin of your waist. you think you have an idea of what he’s about to say, was about to say, but you’re scared he won’t say it. with nothing but a thin veil of air between your noses, you decided to help him overcome his fears.
“i think we feel the same way about each other.” please say it to me.
mark blinks, breaks the stare, looks away, upwards, to the side, “we can’t possibly feel the same…”
he sounds almost exasperated, in the most diminished sense, but you push again, “even then, i don’t mind,” just tell me you love me.
“we can’t possibly feel the same…” mark returns your gaze again, and you watch as his pupils dilate, “because there’s no way you love me as much as i love you.”
the veil of air between your two noses lifts as you lean in for a kiss. a small one. one that says, i will always love you.
of all the things water could symbolize, the water in this bathtub surrounding the two of you represents life, the life that was breathed back into your relationship. this is owed to truth, which is a funny thing for it often hides in plain sight. a year ago at the lake, where the sun had touched every surface on the face of the earth, it had not bothered to dig deeper than that. it is only in the darkness that the truth has nowhere to hide. and if mark had been fearful of the dark moments ago, it is for this reason that he isn’t anymore.
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「 DAY 06, 1:18 PM 」 —  LIKE WE JUST MET
the trunk of his beloved subaru crosstrek slams shut from behind. mark winces. the car door of the passenger seat slams shut shortly after. mark winces once again, and complains rather brashly, “can you not do that every time you get in my car?”
“you’re late. we’re late. can we just get going already?”
mark huffs, turning his attention to the front because the both of you are at fault. you, for not treating his baby with love and care. and him, for picking you up almost twenty minutes after he was supposed to. the wedding venue was an hour away including traffic, and now mark had only forty minutes to not jeopardize the state of his new old relationship.
he’s all but broken your neck by the time you arrive — only five minutes late — after accelerating and braking as aggressively as was necessary to get you to your destination.
while you collect your belongings, mark exits the car, straightens out his tux, and makes his way over to your side of the car, pulling the door open for you. you meet him with a glare while clambering out the car, “you’re lucky nothing’s started yet.”
with you as the maid of honor and with him as just your plus one, he spends most of the time idling around and mingling with acquaintances he hasn’t seen in ages, whilst you headed to the suites of the beachside resort to help your sister get ready. mark is shocked, more than he has been in the past week, to find out that you hadn’t told a single relative that you’d broken up with him in the first place. still, he plays his role as “boyfriend for almost three years” quite well.
throughout the rest of the day, mark notices a few things. 
1) you like the venue, a lot. a summer wedding on the beach, with pastels and flowers and the wind in everyone’s hair. and since you’d commented on these things more than once, mark made sure to commit it to memory for future reference.
2) your sister made a face at you before turning around and throwing the bouquet, which you caught. did everyone think he was supposed to propose right then and there? he doesn’t know, but something about the way your sister had regarded him the whole night makes him nervous. as in the “meeting the in-laws” kind of nervous.
3) lastly, you were more beautiful that you were yesterday. but also, yesterday you were more beautiful than you were the day before. mark had recognized this ongoing phenomena ever since you’d stepped in his car, and it doesn’t seem like there’s a cap to his admiration for you. at this point, it’s like he’s just waiting for any day now where it gets out of hand and he does propose.
it’s on the dance floor where this last point becomes very apparent to him. you’re laughing at everything he’s saying, eyes beaming up at him as he sways you this way and that. when he leans down to plant a kiss to your forehead, mark swears the smile you give in return could save lives with just how radiant it is. he feels a bit silly, like he’s gone a little crazy, but mark knows that the next wedding he’s going to will be his.
and it’s as if your minds communicated on a frequency that only the other could hear, as just the next moment you whisper in his ear.
“us next?”
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✧ [ FIN. ]  copyright © 2023 rouiyan all rights reserved.  
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✧ author's life update — honestly who knew i would get back into writing ff... basically i graduated from high school, got into a few t20 colleges, lost a parent to cancer, gained a parent, lost two best friends, broke up with my long term boyfriend, got my license, turned legal, AND saw the dreamies in concert. so if anyone's wondering why i left.... i'm just glad to say i'm so bored that i'm back. and yes this fic is mostly a self-indulgent account of what i wish my relationship and family life turned out to be but the moral of this story really is: if you're emotionally unstable, seek professional help before relying too much on your s/o. unless they are, of course, mark lee.
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sources wnrs card game wnrs free deck (shhh) upmc pinnacle colon and rectal surgery center brockhampton saturation ii track 16 one star relax inn review little crazy love song alley spring mill the flea holiday inn at ok my fav tea that got me thru this wendy’s in amarillo sumner lake state park svalbard wikipedia things to do at white sands national park new mexico el rey motel
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gyunglitter · 6 months
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stupid cupid ➷ choi beomgyu
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-"oh the way he makes me feel that love isn't real--cupid is so dumb"
or
unlike you, your brother's best friend just doesn't know when to quit
status: ongoing
started: (9/18/2023)
tags: brother's-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff, boy-next-door!beomgyu, flashback city over here tbh, pining from both parties, timeskip, older-brother!soobin
warnings: swearing, angst :(, unedited (sorry not sorry), writing might not be great since i haven't actually written a full story before lmao, lots of groveling, unrequited love, kinda, cringe most likely ngl
featuring: all txt members, yunjin of lesserafim, hyunjin and jeongin of stray kids
notes: i'm not going to do a taglist, mainly because i've done some before on different acounts and it ended up just stressing me out lmao, i'm trying to get back into writing and keeping it healthy for me so sorry babes, but i hope you enjoy this beast!! please let me know what you think <3
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masterlist
prologue - intro
01 - meeting for the first time twice
02 - promises and confrontations,,kind of
03 - when you’re naked and afraid
04 - the reason you like quiet moments with beomgyu
05 - coming soon!!
06
07
08
09
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byhuenii · 1 month
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SHE KNOWS.
“that boy is mine.”
synopsis : " chishiya and i are merely just friends, nothing more nothing less.." was the lie you told the world-and god did that make chishiya pissed off at you. those moments together were not real to you? fuck you and those memories. everything that had to do with you were nothing but useless memories he wanted to erase.
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starstruck au! no boderlands - less fluff more angst - crack (attempts of me being funny) — jealousy — slow burn — requited love.
warnings : kys/kms jokes - lots of cussing - sarcasm - unfunny jokes - mentions of stalking/stalkers — never proofread — typos!!
taglist - open !!
cast : faceclaim sakura miyawaki!YN — Older sister!Ann — Older brother!Kyuma — Famous Doctor!Chishiya — Assistant!Kuina — Baker!Usagi — Streamer!Arisu — College Student!Heiya — Driver!Tatta — Bartender!Karube
main pairing : fem!yn/reader x chishiya
ongoing
୧ 01. 31. 23 - 00. 00. 24 !!
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profiles — jollibee >> kfc & babycakes
- Alice in borderland characters
beware !! there is going to be a a bunch of typos and grammatical errors, i suck at english even though it's my first language LMFAO. this is going to be like 60% smau 40% written or 50% smau 50% written
ᰔᩚ — includes a written portion
TEASER
ONE - no. no. NO! ᰔᩚ
TWO - you're stupid respectfully ᰔᩚ
THREE - cute.
FOUR - giggle-meister
FIVE - invitational ᰔᩚ
SIX - its not what it looks like
SEVEN - cupid shuffle
EIGHT - well fuck me ᰔᩚ
NINE - goodnight yn
TEN - doing too much
ELEVEN - puppy love?
TWELVE - she knows.tv
THIRTEEN - consequences of my own actions
FOURTEEN - can we not
FIFTEEN - kiss kiss
SIXTEEN -
SEVENTEEN - i wan(ted) to be yours. ᰔᩚ
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sadienita · 1 year
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Seventeen Masterlist
Series
Is It Fate? (Seventeen Soulmate Au) Masterlist
One Shots
2k Song Blurb Masterlist
Planning a Wedding in 13 Easy Steps Wedding planning one shots with Seventeen
Step 1: Tell the Family (Chan)
Step 2: Take Your Engagement Photos (Seungkwan)
Step 3: Assemble the Wedding Party (Seungcheol)
Step 4: Find the Venue (Wonwoo)
Step 5: Find the Dress (Mingyu)
Step 6: Start any DIY Projects (Minghao)
Step 7: Consider Eloping (Jeonghan)
Step 8: Figure Out The Menu (Junhui)
Step 9: Take Dance Lessons (Soonyoung)
Step 10: Pick the Music (Hansol)
Step 11: Throw a Bridal Shower (Seokmin)
Step 12: Write Your Vows (Jihoon)
Step 13: Pray (Joshua)
Song Drabbles Seventeen Angst My Happy Ending (Seungcheol) The Winner Takes It All (Hansol)
Seventeen Fluff goodnight n go (Seungcheol) On & On (Jeonghan) She Looks So Perfect (Joshua) Do You No Wrong (Junhui) Dance Me To The End of Love (Soonyoung) Oh Darling (Wonwoo) Finding You (Jihoon) Lullaby (Seokmin) Crush (Mingyu) Kiss Me (Minghao) Paradise (Seungkwan) Sweet Little Something (Hansol) And Dance (Chan)
Romantic Cliches Each member of Seventeen paired with a romantic cliche moment because I love writing fluff
Awkward (Seungcheol) What Is This Feeling (Jeonghan) Let Me Count The Ways (Joshua) Airport (Junhui) Kissing in the Rain (Soonyoung) Notes (Wonwoo) You Weren’t Supposed to Hear That (Jihoon) Duet Partner (Seokmin) She’s All That (Mingyu) Playing Pretend (Minghao) Late (Seungkwan) Headphones (Hansol) Oh My My My (Chan)
13 Halloweens General Series Warnings: death, kidnapping, some gruesome moments
Introduction Prequels: 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Crossroad Blues Pt. 1 Love Hurts Clap Your Hands If You Believe Faith - Epilogue Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell The Bad Place Just My Imagination Heart What Is and What Should Never Be Crossroad Blues Pt. 2 Bloodlust Skin Death’s Door
The Four Seasons Season themed drabbles
Winter  
Ice Skates (Jihoon)
Snow Day (Soonyoung)
Spring
The Great Egg Hunt (Joshua)
벚꽃 (Seungkwan)
Sun and Flowers (Wonwoo)
Take a Hike (Chan)
Summer
Lazy Beach Days (Jeonghan)
Make A Wish (Minghao)
A Boy And A Girl In A Little Canoe (Seungcheol)
Autumn
Cotton Candy and Lemonade (Junhui)
A-Maze-Ing (Mingyu)
A Jack-O-Lantern Smile (Hansol)
Frightful (Seokmin)
Miscellaneous One Shots
An Arrow a Day (Cupid!Wonwoo) L-O-V-E (Minghao) - for @frostyhao Bitter (Soonyoung) and Sweet (Mingyu) - for @gamerwoo Dance With Me (Jihoon) - Requested Bear Hug (Bear Hybrid!Seungcheol) - for @thetypingpup Main Street Drive-In (Mingyu) - for @cheesekimpup A Garden In Spring (Reaper!Hansol) - for @gamerwoo The Joy of Moving (Junhui) - Requested Cliffside at Sunset (Hansol) - Requested Playful (Tiger Hybrid!Soonyoung) - Requested A Stupid Choice (Hansol) - Requested A Song For You (Jihoon) - Requested Someone Cool (Jihoon) - Requested)
Bulletpoints
Seventeen Babies Seungcheol / Jeonghan / Joshua / Junhui / Soonyoung / Wonwoo / Jihoon / Seokmin / Mingyu / Minghao / Seungkwan / Hansol / Chan
Boyfriend Seventeen Seungcheol / Jeonghan / Joshua / Junhui / Soonyoung / Wonwoo / Jihoon / Seokmin / Mingyu / Minghao / Seungkwan / Hansol / Chan
Seventeen Cuddles Seungcheol / Jeonghan / Joshua / Junhui / Soonyoung / Wonwoo / Jihoon / Seokmin / Mingyu / Minghao / Seungkwan / Hansol / Chan
SVT Makeout Sesh Seungcheol / Jeonghan / Joshua / Junhui / Soonyoung / Wonwoo / Jihoon / Seokmin / Mingyu / Minghao / Seungkwan / Hansol / Chan
Reactions
SVT Dating an American Popstar SVT with a tall s/o SVT with a chubby s/o To Date Seventeen (blurbs about what Seventeen would need in a partner) SVT reaction to you wanting to adopt SVT reaction to you having a different bias SVT Most To Least To Have Cooties
Timestamps
OT13 17:00
Seungcheol 1:25
Jeonghan 2:12
Joshua 3:51
Junhui 4:01
Soonyoung 5:40
Wonwoo 6:53
Jihoon 7:05
Seokmin 8:37
Mingyu 9:37
Minghao 10:00
Seungkwan 11:36
Hansol 12:16
Chan 13:27
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envieuu · 1 month
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𖤐 ʾ ⠀ ❪ PASSION is the debut studio album of the first sub-unit of the girl group ENVIE, titled the same name, released on February 26, 2024 by FLEURY RECORDS. The unit consists of the two idol members Ying Jiali and Lee Kiyeon. The album is made up of a total of nine tracks, with MONSTER serving as the title track. Alongside Monster, the duo promoted two other side tracks during the period: NAUGHTY and ALL THE THINGS SHE SAID.
The album went onto be a success, ultimately. All three promoted tracks charted in the top 5 of music charts, with Monster peaking at #1 and garnering 5 music show wins, accompanying 1 win for Naughty and 2 for All The Things She Said. The music video for Monster received 20M views in the first 24 hours of its release.
The physical album features two different versions—HUNGER and ARDOR—along with a random 1 out of 2 individual posters, random 1 out of 2 duo posters, random 2 out of 4 individual photo cards, random 1 out of 2 photo books, 4 stickers, 2 coasters, 1 CD from each album—2 versions, and random 1 out of 2 member representative mood rings.
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↳ TRACKLIST ◝
youtube
01. MONSTER
02. NAUGHTY
03. ALL THE THINGS SHE SAID
04. VICIOUS
05. OPENING ACT
06. ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART
07. TRICK
08. LIAR (FT. MICKEY MOON)
09. MY SWEET MELODY
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↳ STAGE OUTFITS ◝
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↳ FUN DETAILS ◝
This era was (to no one’s surprise) very successful! Except for the fact that no one really expected them to be this successful. Not even the girls were a 100% certain that their debut would be met with as much acceptance as it was. Fleury, however, knew what they were doing. Yejun put a huuugee chunk of funds into this debut behind the scenes, everyone was looking at him a little sideways. But all he told them was to trust him and he did no further explaining. Yejun knew that they were going to be big. Those are his golden girls, after all!
There were a lot of TikTok’s made. They had a lot of idols on their account doing the ‘#NAUGHTY_CHALLENGE.’ Fans often made jokes about them literally hunting down idols in the halls of music shows to record the videos. The challenge included beloved idols such as STUPID CUPID’S CHESKA with Jiali, STUPID CUPID’S VIVA with Kiyeon, PARADOX INVASION’S DASHI with both the girls, NCT 143’S LILY with Kiyeon, THE PINKETTES’ CHARMEINE with both girls, DREAMCHIC’S MICKEY with both girls, NATALIA HWANG with both girls, all the members of ENVIE, and more.
Their variety show appearances were really popular but a little limited in comparison to previous promotions. They could be found on shows like THE MANAGER, PSICK SHOW, and even had their own mukbang series which aired on YouTube.
The choreography for Naughty was a hit, by the way. The dance practices circulated a lot during this era, many people praising them for their dance skills and synchronization together. It’s safe to say the two work really well together.
All The Things She Said was also a hit. The song trended and charted extremely well. The performances also went viral for the girls’ stage presence and chemistry onstage. It seemed like they really enjoyed performing the song, really getting into character whenever they performed it.
Monster of course was a success, charting highly upon its release, but somewhere along the lines it kind of got overshadowed by the other two promotional tracks. It did make noise, as expected, but after the first two weeks of the songs promotions it ended up falling behind Naughty and All The Things She said who received separate promotions from one another—two weeks dedicated to Monster, two weeks dedicated to Naughty, and one week dedicated to All The Things She Said.
There was a tiny problem with solo stans this era. Because the album exceeded the sales of every ot4 ENVIE release, there was a division in the fandom. Avoir’s fought over favoritism from the company, jealousy within the group and from other members’ fans, and even comparing all the members’ (talents, visuals, and solo success). It was a mess.
But aside from that, it’s safe to say that Passion was a smashing success!
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x-xxiaos · 2 years
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10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU!
a genshin impact smau | xiao x fem reader au
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summary after breaking up with his since-high school-girlfriend, xiao made a long list of things he should and hated her for, so he won't fall for her again in case name tries to enter his life once again. for five long years, xiao did a great job at keeping name off of his mind, but what would he do if she suddenly shows up at his door, asking him to work with her?
tags modern au, fluff, angst, lovers to exes to lovers again (maybe)
notes this smau is heavily based and inspired off on the kdrama/webtoon, our beloved summer. feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated!
status discontinued
from eyn its my first time making a smau so pls dont expect too much! i tried being funny but my sense of humor is zero and making jokes in english is hard (the urge to write this in tagalog is so strong)
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
the beginning of the end (prologue)
the selfish | the childish
01. I HATE HOW SELFISH YOU ARE
101. the audacity of this artist, 102. dm his account, 103. i hope you choke on your noodles, 104. venti's cupid plan, 105. surprise for you, 106. the email, 107. major bag alert, 108. anti-xiao account, 109. favor to ask, 110. stupid gdrive link and name's stalker era, 111. sasaeng behavior, me thinks!, 112. mr. i already moved on
02. I HATE HOW YOU HAVE NO SOCIAL SKILLS
201. tba.....
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urszn · 1 year
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NOTE. this is mostly enhypen (its just enhypen), i cant guaranteed all of these will ever come out, but also some txt and nct dream fics will be added in the future hopefully!
ARCHIVE 01. “sent lies”
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ONESHOT/SMAU (?). | in which y/n finally gets the courage to ask out her long-time crush jay but soon realizes she made a big mistake. she accidentally sent her confession to his best friend who happened to like her ! but instead of telling sunghoon that those texts weren’t meant for him, she decides to give sunghoon a chance to get over the fact she would have probably gotten rejected.
PAIRING. | fem reader x non idol!sunghoon ft fem reader x non idol!jay
STATUS. | nothing is confirmed.
ARCHIVE 02. “broken hearts club”
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SMAU. | in which y/n and Jungwon become distant from each other after Jungwon finds a girlfriend, years later they end up talking with each other again on the website broken hearts club after he gets dumped.
PAIRING. | fem reader x non!idol jungwon
STATUS. | most likely to be released.
ARCHIVE 03. “chamber of reflections”
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ONESHOT. | y/n and sunghoon have known one another since they were children, both enjoyed skating and often got paired together, eventually, they started developing feelings for one another and start dating, as he find a new passion and quits skating y/n can’t help but feel like they were drifting apart and decided to call it quits meanwhile he finds himself not being able to let go, reflecting back on all the good memories they've had together.
PAIRING. | figure skater!fem reader x figure skater!sunghoon
STATUS. | being written at the moment.
VERY BIG THANKS TO @jennaissantes FOR MAKING THE HEADER <3
ARCHIVE 04. “start again”
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SMAU. | y/n left a long time ago, she wanted to start a new life and leave the old memories behind. after two years she comes back for her senior year of highschool. everyone seemed to have found new interests and friends…and he’s still the same jungwon the same person who made her leave in the first place. after making new friends and her life seeming to have come back together she suddenly gets two messages, one being from him, “yang jungwon: did you also get that message?”
PAIRING. | non!idol jungwon x fem reader
STATUS. | not confirmed
ARCHIVE 05. “cupid is stupid”
( HEADER N/A )
SMAU. | y/n has only ever had one boyfriend and it ended with her crying in her room. as y/n enters university she decides to give a second chance to cupid, the thing is the guy her friend set her up with is one of the biggest anti-romantic people she’s ever met and also hers ex’s bsf…well his now ex bsf.
PAIRING. | non idol!sunghoon x fem reader
STATUS. | soon?!
ARCHIVE 06. “A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS”
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SMAU. | jungwon was never really fond of talking to anyone new, he always kept to himself and had a couple of friends but besides them, he never really interacted with people and you were no exception, he hated how cheerful you always were and how you had a perfect life with lots of friends, you were the total opposite of him. suddenly he finds himself on Twitter pressing a link to the website “A penny for your thoughts” and talking with Rizzleryn, someone he related to a lot.
PAIRING. | non idol!jungwon x non idol!fem reader ft some sunghoon x reader
STATUS. | ?
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© URSZN
more to be added soon.
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Text
stupid cupid
or: stop picking on me!
gn!reader, no content warnings, fun dumb fluff for the soul. sam collins, you’re a real mean guy! takes place inside the wonderful lexi’s prissy au, where alexis and christian are together - @autisticempathydaemon i hope i do your blorbos justice! as always, i owe everything to the discord girlies - i get the sudden feeling that @zozo-01 ​ might want to hear about this... oh, and all my love to my lovely dialect coach, the incomparable @sri-rachaa - without whom, you would all be subject to the most unholy combination of accents imaginable. be very very grateful! 💕💕 heavily inspired by stupid cupid by connie francis, which i demand you listen to while you read. spot the 五二零 reference! sam being absolutely, thoroughly to blame in just over 2200 words.
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“Well. Fancy seeing you here, hmm?”
Sam Collins is an idiot.
Yeah, you’re not afraid to say it.
Sam Collins is an idiot, and you’ll tell anyone who listens, swear up and down it’s the honest truth. A bleeding-heart birdbrain who couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. An empty-headed vamp with a talent for healing and an even bigger talent for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Nobody else alive can put their foot in their mouth quite so quickly or obviously, and - despite Asher’s continued existence - he actually holds the state record for most dumb things said in a single minute. He’s a moron and a fool and the stupidest goddamn loser you’ve ever met in your life, and the worst part about it is that you’re absolutely, ridiculously, so so so in love with him.
It’s not fair!
What even is there to like about him? His stupid face and his awful smile and that horrible way he says there’s my darlin’, all relieved and deep and easy, when you come traipsing back through his door like a drowned rat because you hadn’t checked the forecast and it had started raining about twenty minutes after you left. His old-fashioned, ugly haircut that’s the perfect length to run your fingers through, all messy and falling across his face when he’s asleep in your arms, unfairly soft and pretty even though he barely takes care of it at all. That god-awful scruff around his jaw that you can’t help but kiss as he fills the kettle up with water, those strong hands that gently find their way around your waist as you’re listening to Milo’s tale of whatever bullshit he and his mate got up to last week, the way he likes to prop you up against his chest whenever you’re watching TV together…
…Sorry, what were we talking about?
Oh, Sam, right. Yeah, yeah. He’s an idiot. Have you mentioned that yet?
He gets back and finds you perched on the kitchen counter, elbow deep in the bag of crisps you said you didn’t like but he knows you do, because he pays too much attention to stupid shit like that for his own good. He lets you play your music in the car way more than the 50/50 you’d agreed on, which you know is true because you’ve started counting, because he’s a lying liar who lies. He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair at the table and brings you flowers, but never lets you do the same for him, because he’s an enemy of goodness who hates things being fair.
He’s just so - he’s - the - he - aargh!
Stupid, stupid Sam Collins. It should be illegal to be so - so like that, you know? Who even let him get like this, anyway? Kissing your hand as he says hello with that damned smile, like some dashing hero out of one of those gushy romance novels Vincent’s always carting around - you know the ones, the cringy airport-duty-free types with the big cursive letters and a stock photo of some windswept white guy plastered across the cover. Your real life white knight, stepped right off the page and into your arms like it’s where he’s meant to be.
(It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, but sometimes you really do have to wonder. He gives Vincent shit for reading all those cheesy romance novels, but you’re starting to think it’s Sam who takes them to heart. He does know that those aren’t instruction manuals… right?)
He’s something else, that man. Unfortunately, you can’t say you don’t like it.
At first, you’d thought he was just playing it up - trying to be courteous, trying to be nice, and accidentally laying it on just a bit too thick. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d do, from what you could tell. He’s just so good - the kind of guy that you can’t help but admire in a sort of ‘oh, he’ll make someone really happy, one day’ kind of way. Does that make sense? Charming, really charming, even if he thinks he isn’t - and thoroughly, utterly, absolutely meant for someone a lot better than you.
You don’t say it. Never have, never will. It’s obvious. Larger than life, moonlight on the silver screen. He’s always been meant for more than this, more than you, and you won’t insult his intelligence by pretending you don’t know. He could do so much better, couldn’t he? To start with, you’d thought he must be more of an idiot than he’d seemed, to want you the way he says he does.
You know a little better now, but it doesn’t stop surprising you - he doesn’t stop surprising you.
Credit where it’s due, he’s stuck around, even when you thought he wouldn’t. The truth isn’t hard to see, but he does his best to persuade you otherwise, in as many words - and sometimes not so many clothes. More often than not, you tend to believe him. He’s very convincing, when he wants to be - that or he’s just stubborn, and you never learnt the difference. Whatever it is, it sounds so nice when he says it. If that’s what his version of persuasion feels like, you’re more than happy to, uh… to be convinced, if you will.
You don’t have to say. He knows. He already knows, and he stays anyway.
“...Darlin’?”
Oh, fuck, he - um-
“Uh - yeah, I - oh - yeah, I, um…” Startled out of your daydreaming, you’re caught off-guard by that foaming, fizzing feeling that bubbles up in your chest as he catches your eye, leaning down to prop himself up on the side of the sofa right next to where you’re sitting. “I was just, you know… sitting here…”
He laughs low and easy at your smooth comeback, shifting his weight to rest on one arm so he can reach out and take your hand gently in his. “Gettin’ comfy, are we?”
“Mm-hmm,” you mumble, trying desperately not to look as flustered as you feel. Fuck, does everyone feel like this when they see their mates? Or is it just the effect Sam has on you? You’d better start cutting Milo some more slack for that dumb face he makes whenever his mate walks into the room. “Got back early from David’s.”
“He alrigh’?”
“Seems it.” It’s always a bit awkward, going over to hang out at David’s house, but it’s generally a good time when you can pluck up the courage to actually go. “Ash spent half the time giving him shit for losing at Mario Kart, and the other half was mostly David beating him into the ground at Gang Beasts, so… yeah?”
The afternoon had been pretty good, all things considered - barring one minor mishap with a deck of UNO cards, a saucepan full of rice and some god-awful rhythm action game - and it had been nice to spend some time just relaxing with the others again. Everyone’s been so busy that it’s been hard to find a day you could all do, so it was a good change of pace.
Sam nods, thumb idly stroking over the back of your hand. “Seems like the pair of ‘em are settlin’ right in with this whole engaged business, then.”
“Business as usual, more like. They’re all lovey with their mates anyway, so it’s no different.” It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault - it’s just the way the bond works, you know? Not a compulsion, it’s not forcing you close or making you want to be all soft and touchy all the time. It just… it feels nice, is all. Like it’s good, like it’s true, like it’s right. You’d like to say you’re not as PDA-heavy as the really ooey-gooey ones like Milo and his mate, but… Well. Maybe most of the time.
“Mm, ‘spose you’re right on that front,” he muses, regretfully letting go of your hand as he stands up and starts walking off towards the kitchen. “‘Sides, ain’t David the one who proposed to his mate on solstice day? Guess he’s just the romantic type.”
“I…” When you think of romantic people, David Shaw isn’t top of the list, but maybe he’s right. When it comes to all that cheesy, cutesy stuff? Angel isn’t exactly the most subtle pet name, after all. “Yeah, I guess.”
You make to get up and follow him, but he holds out a hand to stop you before you can even properly stand.
“Nope - you stay right there, darlin’,” he says, grabbing the remote off the side table and tossing it lightly into your lap as he disappears out into the corridor. “Won’t be more’n a minute.”
“Everything alright?”
“Left my phone on the counter, ‘s all,” he replies, voice echoing slightly in the hall as you turn the TV on, idly flicking through the channels. “Vincent wanted me to take a look at some website or other - last I heard, he’s been makin’ plans for some Valentine’s Day thing?”
“He’ll be disappointed, then,” you snicker, readjusting yourself slightly to make room for Sam as he comes to sit next to you on the sofa. “He has realised that Valentine’s Day was, like, two weeks ago, right?”
A long-suffering sigh - which, to be honest, is most of the clan’s reaction when Vincent starts waxing lyrical about his partner again. There’s been a meeting at William’s all evening, something about making preparations for an event at one of the properties in a few months’ time, so Vincent must have got a hold of him there.
“Well, whatever it is, he’s got all sorts of ideas floatin’ around. He normally asks Alexis about this kinda thing, but she wasn’t there tonight so he came to me.”
“Huh.” That’s unusual. Alexis is normally really on top of these sorts of things - say what you will about her, she’s always on time and she never misses anything business-related if she can help it. “Maybe she’s just feeling a bit under the weather today.”
“Vincent said she had some ‘prior arrangement’ in town she couldn’t miss.” Sam shrugs, settling in next to you as you switch over to Netflix. “Guess she must’ve been double-booked tonight.”
Hmm. Why is that familiar? Playing truant, ‘double-booked’... You haven’t heard anything about Alexis being busy tonight before, so why does ‘prior arrangement’ ring a bell?
...Wait.
Oh, so that’s why Christian left early! You’d thought he was looking unusually dressed up. Their date night is normally Wednesdays, so it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but now that you think about it you remember Chrissy bitching about being on an out-of-town job all this week and having to miss it.
Oh, fair enough then. If someone had tried to send you out on some boring security gig for a week and you couldn’t see Sam until you got back, you’d probably be pretty pissed off too.
The conversation trails off a bit as you finally find a show you want to watch, and you’re just reaching for the blanket behind you when he - oh, when - um, when, ahhh…
“This alrigh’?” Curse his vampire speed! Before you really know what’s happening, he’s got you pressed right up against him, legs draped over his lap and curled in close under his arm, blanket over both of you. Not that you need it, anymore - your face feels like lava with the way he’s looking at you, impossibly gentle and kind.
“Yeah, yeah…” The spotlight of his attention, turned fully on you, and you’re practically blinded every time. “Good, yeah, it’s uh… yeah, ‘s fine…”
“Good,” he says, smiling softly like he has no idea of the effect he has on you. “Wouldn’t want my mate gettin’ cold on my watch.”
Fuck, does he always have to say it like that? Doesn’t he know what it does to you? Mate, mate, mate. Rattling around in your head, that firecracker-fizzing in your chest that runs through you at just the thought. He’ll end up giving you a heart attack one of these days, the way he’s going. And if it means he’ll heal you, hands all over you, holding you close as his aura cracks and sparks with healing magic? Maybe it’s overkill - but you can’t say the thought isn’t very appealing.
You hide your smile against his shoulder, burying your face in his chest in a vain attempt to play it cool - unfortunately his ridiculously-affectionate little laugh as you twist your fingers in his shirt tells you that it hasn't quite worked.
“Y’know, you seem a bit distracted, if I’m bein’ honest.”
The TV is long-forgotten as he gently tips your chin up, that idiot, idiot Sam Collins - dumb silver eyes and horrible smile and stupidly-handsome face just inches away. Is it just you, or is it a bit warm in here? In the arms of an evil, awful, wicked man whose favourite thing to do is make your stupid brain stop working, who sets your face and your heart and your soul on fire without a second thought, without even knowing he’s doing it. Honestly. What’s become of you? A house and a life and a mate that’s yours, it’s yours, he’s yours.
“Penny for your thoughts, darlin’?” A soft kiss, pressed lightly to your cheek, and all of a sudden the inside of your brain lights up a familiar shade of bright, bright blue.
He - you - oh, that’s - he just - aargh!
masterlist
this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute
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woonierkiz · 1 year
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VALENTINE BY VALENTINA — Yang Jungwon
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CHAPTER SUMMARY. Valentina, the new solo artist of Ador, runs a mini show where she gives a gift to strangers for a gift on Valentine's and accidentally runs to Jungwon, whose dancing her song cupid at the hallway.
PAIRINGS. yang jungwon x fem reader
GENRE.  idol au, smau with written chapters, second-hand embarrassment moments, fluffy fluff, crack, idiots in love.
INSPIRED BY. tada our sassy but lovable and beloved DONGPYO <;3
MEMO. this series is entirely fictional and made for entertainment purposes (a.ka.a feeding my delulu selp). reader will be visualized by various face claims i saw on pinterest and uses feminine terms.
taglist is open, send ask or fill tag form.
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⠀⠀⨯ ◞ PROFILES | ( valentine ╱ enhypen )
UPCOMING CHAPTERS. . . .
01. im so lonely 02. twitter momints 03. dispatch you keep ruining my mascara by xg. 04. CUPID IS STUPID EY 05. omgah omgah show is on 06. tba
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yeongwonie · 2 years
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STUPID CUPID! — 33
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pairing. park sunghoon x f!reader
SYNOPSIS. alone on valentine’s day, you decide to sign up for the student council’s fundraiser: a matchmaking survey, hoping to at least get a few laughs out of the whole ordeal. little do you know, park sunghoon (your archenemy since junior high) has the same idea. but it’s fine! your student body president, kim sunoo, would never tamper with the matching system, right?
note. this is my formal apology for chapter 29 </3 i loved writing this so much even tho its literally my own smau i am the biggest sungy/n fan
+ please rb if u want to!! it rlly helps w/ tumblr’s algorithm :))
masterlist
⤎ prev | 33 — like it was (written; 1.2k) | next ⤍
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AT 11:01, SUNGHOON FINDS YOU slumped against a tree in the school’s courtyard.
initially, it’s hard to tell, but when he sees you curled up, face half-hidden in the warmup jacket you’re clutching to your chest, he knows it’s you. he approaches slowly at first, then breaks into a light jog until he’s standing in front of you. he crouches down until he’s at your eye level, then, tentatively, a hand reaches out to touch your shoulder, tapping lightly in the hopes of waking you up. 
when you don’t stir, sunghoon examines your face more closely. your hair clings to the sides of your face, and your brows are furrowed. he holds the back of his hand a few centimeters away from your forehead and finds that even the air around you feels warm and clammy. 
lightly, his fingers move to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. the moment he makes contact with your skin, your eyes shoot open, and you blink up at him in disbelief. 
“what are you doing?” you ask, voice low from disuse. in a flash, he retracts his hand and moves backward in slight fear. somehow, you still manage to appear more than a bit intimidating, even though he’s just woken you up from your impromptu nap on school grounds. 
“sorry,” sunghoon mumbles, still squatting awkwardly in front of you. it’s a little unnerving, the way you stare at him in silence for a long pause (though, he supposes if he’d woken up to you in front of him, he’d have the same reaction). eventually, you sigh, then pat the space next to you under the tree’s vast trunk. 
slowly, sunghoon moves to lean against the tree alongside you, though he never lets you out of his direct line of sight. he watches your eyelids flutter closed as you let out a shaky exhale. for a few moments, he mirrors you, letting the warm sunshine of the late morning wash over his face. staring up at the thin veil of branches and leaves stretching across the sky, it’s not hard for sunghoon to see why you’d fallen asleep here so easily; he’d known you’d looked tired, and something about the atmosphere of the courtyard was strangely tranquil and soothing. 
while sunghoon watches the leaves rustle slightly in the light breeze, he thinks only of you. he and you had gone so quickly from close friends to strangers because of his cowardice, and now, it was far too easy for him to fall back into his old routines and find comfort by your side. it terrifies him, how easily he had sat down next to you despite years of trying to push you from the furthest depths of his subconscious. 
at the same time, he can’t help but wonder why it is you seem so exhausted. he wants to believe it’s only because of the pressure of this showcase. during your years “apart”, sunghoon thinks you’ve only gotten more admirable, though you’d always been someone who was willing to work yourself to your limit for the good of your team. still, another part of him knows it has to be a little bigger. the puffiness around your eyes betrays your clear lack of sleep.
sunghoon hopes you’re not losing sleep over him, as he does so often. 
lost in thought, a sudden weight on his shoulder is enough to make sunghoon jolt a little, then look down at you in surprise. your hair tickles the skin of his neck, and sunghoon is rendered helpless, frozen in utter shock. you’re still asleep, having effortlessly fallen back into your slumber minutes prior (your unbothered state is an almost comical juxtaposition to his panicked expression, he thinks).
and then, sunghoon realizes what he’d come outside to do.
“it’s past 11, now,” he murmurs softly, turning his head a little to look down at you. your eyes don’t open, but he continues, knowing you’re listening. “we should go.”
you shift the position of your head, pressing your chin more firmly into his shoulder while mumbling a light protest, and sunghoon feels the tips of his ears burn bright red. 
“come on,” he tries to say seriously, though the end of his order breaks off into a laugh. “i’m not going to carry you, by the way.”
“i would hope not,” you reply. at last, your eyes crack open, and you sit up straight, squinting against the sudden rush of bright light and schooling your features into a soft frown. after lingering for a few seconds, you push yourself to your feet and dust any dirt off of your practice clothes. 
you extend a hand to sunghoon, and he stares at it for a second too long before allowing you to pull him to his feet. one of your hands slips into your pocket and pulls out your phone, and once you look at the screen, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. 
“it’s 11:20?” you exclaim, voice rising in panic. 
sunghoon laughs a little, then places a hand on your shoulder, as though he’d sensed the sudden urge you felt to sprint the entire way back to the practice room. “don’t worry, he says, “coach said she only wants us back to help set up. don’t tire yourself out.”
“but,” you protest, brushing his hand off of your shoulder, “won’t she still be annoyed?”
“i don’t know, aren’t you the captain? i think you should get special privileges or something.”
“that’s really not how it works,” you say, a smile contradicting your seemingly bothered tone. 
side by side, sunghoon and you start to walk back to where your teams are probably waiting. he grimaces a little at the thought of setting up every single chair for the auditorium, but any negative feelings are pushed out of his mind by the sheer elation he feels just being next to you like this, as though no time had passed and nothing had happened to jeopardize your relationship. 
and just like that, the words flow out of his mouth, as easily as he wishes they had any time during the last four years. 
“about what you asked yesterday,” he begins, pausing in the middle of the walkway. “do you still want to know?”
you pause alongside him, and sunghoon scans your face, expecting curiosity or even eagerness. instead, you look pensive, and maybe even a little sad. 
“can we talk about this later?” you ask, and his heart drops. noticing his shift in demeanor, you quickly continue. “i do still want to know, i just.” you pause to swallow. “i don’t know if i’m ready to hear it, right now.”
sunghoon nods, because it’s all he can really do in the moment. he wonders what would’ve changed had he said something sooner, or if he hadn’t said anything at all and you’d continued on your separate paths like two parallel lines. with a grim look on your face, you turn and continue walking back to the dance room, leaving sunghoon to trail a few steps behind.
he decides then, for probably the sixth or seventh time (and a few years too late), that he will do everything he can to fix things. the prospect of valentine’s day in the near future looms over him like a vast shadow as he watches you walk ever further away.
✮✮✮
taglist (OPEN). @linoragi @msxflower @wonzone @vantxx95 @c9tnoos @abdiitcryy @w3bqrl @acciomylove @laiverose @shawkneecaps @jjunis @niorawr @chiyuv @gyusteez @theskzvibe @yeppeudau @atsumuluvbot @renjunvrse @saucytaehyung @cocoabeen @nomniki @ashxxkook @angelicncity @fairybangtan @fadedluvv @haoreo @love-4-keum @solarswonderland @emoworu @revemixer @hrjchive @sushiriki @hseungi @enaus @maeumiluv @blu3ming-hoon @soobin-chois @ifwtyun @sweetjaemss @luviehyck @angelbaby-rose @beomsun @tobiosbbyghorl @junqwonni @jungwonnieee @carayat @iovnyu @cyuuupid @dekusgirl @hobistigma
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cvntrlseecvntrlvee · 2 months
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- SEVENTEEN FIC RECS
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[♡]=personal favs, [♕]=smut, [☼]=fluff, [☁]=angst
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↠ scoups
full seungcheollie masterlist
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↠ jeonghan
full jeonghannie masterlist
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↠ joshua
↳ breakfast in bed (jeonghan, joshua) by peachybun-bun — ♕ | 1.2k
↳ isohel by toruro — ☼, ☁ | 26.2k
fairytales can be rather misleading, can’t they? when you and your mother are ripped away from your life at the castle, you spend over a decade resenting the royalty. so naturally, when you find prince joshua at your doorstep, you’re more than eager to shut the door on him. but as your life takes twists and turns, you happen to find yourself in the arms of a man you never thought you’d have to see again.
↳ mr. nice guy by toruro — ♕ | 5.3k
you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.
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↠ jun
↳ stupid cupid by hansolmates — ☼, ♕ | 8.4k
After seeing your best friend get paired up through an alleged matchmaker, you can’t help but wonder about the credibility of his business. Wen Junhui, your resident Cupid, can’t help but take on the challenge of setting you up with Mr. Right. (Un)fortunately it seems like that person is right in front of you.
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↠ hoshi
full horanghae masterlist
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↠ wonwoo
full wonu masterlist
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↠ woozi
↳ don't sweat it by miraclewoozi — ♕, ☼ | 18k
Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.
↳ just us and the moon (till the sun starts waking) by 97-liners — ♕, ☁, ☼ | 10k
In which there’s two things you knew when you were entering this arrangement. One: Jihoon doesn’t like relationships. Two: You’re a damn fucking fool for Lee Jihoon.
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↠ dokyeom
↳ civil affairs by bitchlessdino — ♕, ☁ | 7.7k
With the mutual understanding being cheated on, Seokmin finds solace in you, the beautiful stranger with ties to man that ruined his marriaged, Fortunately, light peeks out of the most inconvenient of circumstance.
↳ fireflies by chocosvt — ☁, ☼ | 12.6k
the time has come for prince seokmin to meet his arranged marriage, which forces you to confront a strange predicament: if you truly hate the prince, then why does the thought of him being with someone else hurt this badly?
↳ love scene by cheolhub — ♕ | 2.3k
you’re scared that seokmin might want to go separate ways after graduation, but he proves, in more ways than one, that he wants you. forever.
↳ the language of flowers by luvhaos — ☁, ☼ | 10k
you have a big, fat crush on the owner of the flower shop across the street but there are two pretty big problems: you’re pretty certain he has a girlfriend and both of your staff hate each other’s guts.
↳ yuck \ part 01 \ part 02 \ by hannieween — ♕ | 19.1k
how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind?
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↠ mingyu
full mingoo masterlsit
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↠ the8
↳ fixer upper by seungkwansphd — ♕, ☼ | 9.5k
you love your friends dearly, but do they really think that they can match make for their resident matchmaker? minghao’s certainly interesting, though, so maybe you can fix him up with someone else instead.
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↠ seungkwan
↳ first by cheolism — ♕, ☼ | 5.8k
you and seungkwan were new to relationships, and netiher of you felt rushed to do anything. six months in, and you both still haven’t had sex. but then you start looking at his hands and thighs, and find you just can’t help yourself.
↳ office hours by seungkw1 — ♡, ♕ | 6.2k
↳ you got it all wrong (seungkwan, dino) by seokgyuu — ♡, ♕ | 10.7k
One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.
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↠ vernon
↳ cuff (vernon, seungcheol, wonwoo) by smileysuh — ♕ | 4k
You and Vernon have been together forever, and your relationship is almost perfect… but it’s missing something. When the young member mentions wanting to spice things up a bit in the bedroom, his hyungs Wonwoo and Seungcheol are more than happy to give you and Vernon some in-person lessons.
↳ or, would you rather it be me? by thepixelelf — ☼ | 7.9k
A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?
↳ work husband by wondernus — ☼ | 8.8k
falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband
↳ voicemail drabble by wqnwoos
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↠ dino
full lee chan's masterlist
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↠ multi
↳ cuff (vernon, seungcheol, wonwoo) by smileysuh — ♕ | 4k
You and Vernon have been together forever, and your relationship is almost perfect… but it’s missing something. When the young member mentions wanting to spice things up a bit in the bedroom, his hyungs Wonwoo and Seungcheol are more than happy to give you and Vernon some in-person lessons.
↳ where you return (mingyu, wonwoo) by miabebe — ♕ | 7k
After almost a year of no contact, you meet an old fling at a wedding
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↠ reactions/scenarios
↳ svt as the type of boyfriend - 95' liners by juverine
↳ svt being clingy with their s/o - ot13 by babyleostuff
↳ how svt react to their s/o backhugging them by fairyhaos
↳ seventeen & touch-starved s/o (hhu ver.) by wqnwoos
↳ how svt react to you asking for a kiss by cheolism
↳ the italicised 'oh; moment // hyung line // maknae line by sunshinehaos
↳ saying something they didn't mean in a fight (perf unit) by babyleostuff
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cookiesandlynx · 1 year
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SOUTH PARK 26x3 Overview. SPOLIERS FOR 26x3!!!
I'm actually writing this down while watching the episode, so there's gonna be more things I know and remember
We finally got our integrity weed episode
Randy playing Hogwarts Legacy. That's it
SHELLY SCENES! I LOVE HER!!
I like the look of their bathroom
Rest in peace "ol' blue"
Home Depot is an exact replica of my mom's work
This episode reminds me of "More Crap" from season 11 with its humor
I like how it's not a weed episode in general, it just takes place at tegridy farms
[BIG SHOT](I'm sorry, but I'm super into deltarune)
I like the look of that blonde girl
Randy being pretentious is a mood
Stan's voice sounds kinda different
JFK Randy
Randy has hemorrhoids reminds me of that vine
Butters is so adorable
Jimmy speaking facts. I love him!
What is Randy's middle name? My guess is Samuel.
Okay, apparently his full name is Randall "Randy" Marvin Marsh. Where did the S come from?
Randy muttering Japanese in his coma
Harrison Yates being iconic(The police chief)
The proctologist taking the home Depot hostage then shoots his foot.
Jimmy Valmer lore. He's an icon.
This is a really dramatic episode, considering where this episode started
We finally get Kyle in the 19-minute mark!
"Bro! I got ****ing shot!"-Randy Marsh, 03/01/23
Ol' Blue is back!
It's a very generic title
In conclusion, I really like this episode. It seems like something they would do in seasons 10-13. I think it's better than Worldwide Privacy Tour but not as good as Cupid Ye. I thought it would be a stupid episode about toilets and fart jokes, but it got dramatic super fast. Even if you don't watch recent south park, I would watch this one.
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scphiavnv · 1 year
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༻❀༺  Abaixo encontram-se algumas conexões que pensei para a Sophia! Algumas tem especificação de gênero, mas as demais são gender free. Quero muito plotar com todes, é só dar um alô!
Friendship
I’ll stand by you: A amizade com [MUSE] aconteceu assim que entrou para a Academia. Sophia tinha medo de ser rejeitada por ser diferente, mas a amizade que construíram está acima de qualquer diferença. Podem sempre contar um com o outro, em qualquer situação, são os dois contra o mundo! ( open - 01/02) -- @kcithen
Me and my girls:  Ao chegar na academia, Sophia achou que seria difícil se enturmar, porém [MUSES] a acolheram e acabaram formando um squad. Acabou se tornando seu porto seguro, sempre tendo com quem contar para não ficar sozinha e isolada.  ( open - 01/?) -- @khvnsky​
Hey soul sister (F) : Sophia tem muito carinho por [MUSE], não consegue explicar o carinho que desenvolveu por ela desde que se conheceram. Sophia considera [MUSE] como uma irmã,  talvez para preencher a lacuna emocional que sua irmã de sangue deixou após falecer  ( open - 0/1)
 Keep holding on: Em meio às aulas na Academia, Sophia teve uma crise de ansiedade no corredor, e foi [MUSE] que a ajudou. No momento de fragilidade, Sophia desabou em choro e desabafou tudo o que sentia, mesmo que achasse estranho. Agora ambos se ajudam em momentos difíceis, e Sophia encontrou alguém para desabafar sempre que se sentia angustiada.  ( open - 0/1)
Looser like me: Da mesma forma que Sophia preferia ficar isolada, sem chamar muita atenção para si, percebeu que [MUSE] agia da mesma forma, como se não se encaixasse. Isso fez Sophia tomar coragem para se aproximar, descobrindo que se tratava sim de uma pessoa legal que pensava de forma semelhante. Desde então são amigos que fazem companhia um ao outro.  ( open - 01/?) -- @ccrlisle
You’ve got a friend in me: Sophia e [MUSE] são como água e óleo, à princípio impossíveis de se misturarem. Porém ocorreu a oportunidade em que os dois conversaram e descobriram que podem sim ser amigos! Apesar de opiniões totalmente diferentes, sabem se respeitar e aproveitar o que tem de bom um no outro.  ( open - 01/?) --- @ncslihan
Be my friend: Sophia é aquela típica garota quieta que na maioria das vezes senta-se isolada, com fone em seus ouvidos, se isolando do mundo. [MUSE] achou uma boa ideia implicar com esse jeito dela, o que a deixou extremamente incomodada. Porém acabaram por se conhecer melhor e tornaram-se amigos. Sophia até divide seu fone nas horas vagas!  ( open - 01/? ) --- @grcckgoddess
Reading Freaks: Um dos hobbies favoritos de Sophia é ler, já que gosta da fuga de realidade que os livros proporcionam. [MUSE] partilha desse mesmo sentimento, por isso sempre conversam com empolgação sobre os livros que leem, e também indicam livros que consideram essenciais para ler antes de morrer!  ( open - 0/? )
Cupid Shuffle: Sophia não leva jeito para relacionamentos, sair para um date é algo que basicamente não faz. Porém MUSE sempre está lá para tentar desencalhar a coitada, sempre empurrando ela pra alguém ou convencendo a amiga a sair num date.  ( open - 0/1 )
Hateship
Can’t fight this feeling (M): Sophia e [MUSE] se provocam desde que se conheceram, não concordam em nada e praticamente não se suportam. Mas em meio a tantos xingamentos não podem negar que existe uma certa atração, e ambos tentam resistir à tentação.  ( open - 0/1)
Don’t rain on my parade: Desde a sua infância Sophia tentou ser boa em tudo o que fazia para chamar a atenção dos pais, e esse traço persistiu por toda a vida. Agora na academia, sempre quer tirar as melhores notas, porém [MUSE] é um oponente à altura. Os dois sempre brigam por notas ou para serem os melhores nas extracurriculares.  ( open - 0/1) --- @eunjik
Romantic
Stupid with love (M): Sophia pode não ter experiência com relacionamentos, ou flertes. Mas nada impede que ela sonhe com um príncipe encantado que virá buscá-la em seu cavalo branco. Viu em [MUSE] esse cavaleiro, que arranca suspiros dela sempre que passa. Óbvio que não teria coragem de revelar seus sentimentos, mas olhar não tira pedaço.  ( open - 0/1)
Don’t go breaking my heart (M) : Antes de entrar para a academia Sophia mal se permitia relacionar amorosamente com outros garotos, por isso ainda era virgem quando chegou. [MUSE] jogou usou todo seu charme para conquistar a búlgara, porém foi só depois de muita insistência que conseguiu roubar o primeiro beijo. A primeira vez aconteceu somente depois de muita confiança de Sophia em [MUSE], porém ela ainda não sabe como lidar com o fato de que o fez antes do casamento, e agora espera levar a relação para frente  ( open - 0/1)
Blame it (On the Alcohol) (M): Sexo casual definitivamente não combina com Sophia. Porém é como dizem, álcool antes de matar te humilha! Fraca para bebida como é, Sophia nem se lembra como foi parar na cama de [MUSE]. E a ressaca no dia seguinte só não foi maior que a ressaca moral que passou a sentir daquele dia em diante.  ( open - 0/1)
Others
We’re young: Como uma garota que passou basicamente a vida inteira em um convento, é de se imaginar que Sophia não tem muita experiência, nem muita malícia. Ao dar abertura para uma amizade com [MUSE], não esperava que fosse ser levada direto pelo mal caminho. Festas, bebidas, drogas, e outras loucuras com as quais Sophia não está acostumada sempre estão nos planos.  ( open - 0/1)
Let me be your teacher: Sophia pode ter dificuldade de enturmar, mas pelo menos é muito boa nas matérias da Academia. [MUSE] tem dificuldade em determinada matéria e resolve se inscrever na monitoria, e é Sophia que fica encarregada de ensiná-lo.  ( open - 0/1)
Cause i’m royalty: Sophia chegou de paraquedas na academia, não conhecia nada nem ninguém, sequer tinha dicas sobre o que enfrentaria. Não tem experiência nenhuma com a nobreza, nem como se portar, e foi [MUSE] que se ofereceu para ajuda-lá.   ( open - 0/1)
Dress you up: Se tem uma coisa que Sophia precisa na Academia é ajuda, e as roupas estão inclusas. Tem dificuldade em escolher a peça apropriada para cada ocasião, já que tem zero experiência com eventos de gala. [MUSE] é quem salva ela nessas situações, dando dicas de moda e orientando sobre as tendências mundiais.  ( closed- 0/1) -- @princesadclar
Learning to ride: Sophia sempre teve interesse por cavalos, porém nunca teve a oportunidade de aprender a cavalgar. Porém observou que [MUSE] é um mestre da equitação, e fez sua melhor cara de cachorrinho sem dono para pedir por aulas. No fim, [MUSE] está realizando um sonho de Sophia, que nunca imaginou que seria capaz de montar num cavalo.  ( closed - 01/01) -- @cvaughan
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