Codename: Monster (M)

Tell your kids about me

I hope that when you’re older

and your hair is begin to grey

when you’ve built your life

found your happiness

Your child asks about me one day

I know that you’ll be stunned

But let out a soft smile

I hope that you’ll ask them to take a seat

Cause you’ll be talking for a while

It was never a thought in my head

That we would be sharing our love story alone

I always thought those kids would be ours

But I guess the future is unknown

Please tell them how much I loved you

Share our memories

Give them advise

Tell them about the choices you made

It’ll make you wonder if it was worth the price

Be honest with them about what happened

Please don’t tell them we endet fine

Your first love just not your last love

But maybe we will work out in another lifetime

m crying in the corner rn

[10:34 a.m] People would call her Y/N. Jaemin calls her Love.

Love had the most beautiful eyes, always shimmering like someone spilled golden glitter in them. Love's cheeks were always inviting, and don't even get him started on Love's lips — they were their own shade of rose and they were curled up in a smile, his favorite smile— Love was laughing at him.

"What the hell is this?" You giggled, holding his 'gift' in your palm, your other hand setting down your iced drink.

He pouts, "It's a rock."

"Is this your way of telling me that I am dense, or are you asking me for permission to try and crack this open on my head like an egg?"

Love was funny. Love always jokes here and there, making sure that it's at the worst timing ever.

"It's not just a rock, it's a pretty rock! Plus, look at those weird curves, doesn't it look like our initials? Look, this one looks like a star—!" He was cut off from his rambling.

Why had he been so much of a fool? You were beautiful. You were a wonder of a person, a goddess of a girl. You deserved more than palaces of promises and golden kisses; you deserved galaxies and diamonds and he wonders if he could still call you 'Love'.

Love makes Jaemin feel a mixture of 'I'm glad you're mine' and 'Why did you choose me?' and it didn't make sense.

Jaemin was confident, so casual that he comes off as flirty. And maybe he was flirty. But alas, Love, no matter how confident he was, makes him feel inferior. Who knows why or how, or if that was what it was at all.

There was a cold press against his lips, and a hint of your favorite drink left alongside a little stain of your flavored lip balm. His entire face flushes red and he realizes that it couldn't be helped.

It was just the truth of all fates. Fire loves paper to the point where it smothers it with warmth to the point of nothingness, the lady who lives across was widowed and childless having forgotten most of her early years but could recall her first love at just the sight of daffodils, and Jaemin was only one of the sunflowers who looked up to the Sun that is named Y/N —

"Thank you, Jaemin, love," you whisper, pressing a kiss on his forehead and whispering 'just an extra for always being so thoughtful'.

— and Jaemin was the only one Sunflower the Sun would care for like this.

The Sun he calls Love.

He smiles, wordlessly kissing you back.

Other people would call him Jaemin — the Sun calls him Love in return.

“Keep it up and you’re never shoveling my walks again.”

namjoon x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.3K

a/n: Hi lovelies! This fic started with the simple idea of Joon and Daisy/reader walking around in the winter time and him being adorable about a small Christmas tree. The rest- well, I don’t know how it came to be but I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

Walking happily down the street, you actively avoided meeting Namjoon’s stare, knowing he was watching you as you smugly swung your shopping bag back and forth. 

“You won’t even look at me,” he huffed and shook his head, though you could hear it in his voice that he was biting back a smile. “You’re so proud of yourself,” he continued his lighthearted complaints. Rolling your eyes, you stepped in front of him, halting his steps, your hand resting on his shoulder to hold him in place. Widening your eyes, you looked at him directly to make your point. “Stop it,” he told you quietly, a small grin breaking through, his dimples appearing as small divots in his cheeks.

“Stop complaining then. And stop glaring at me,” you retorted, Namjoon taking offense.

“I haven’t been glaring,” he defended himself, making you shoot him an expression that said, really?  

“I bought the shoes, get over it,” you shot back, Namjoon’s mouth dropping open as he glanced down at the shopping bag.

A gust of cold wind struck you both, sending his hair flying across the side of his face and a shiver through his tall frame. You were struck with the desire to warm him up.

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“As soon as you begin to ask the question, Who loves me? you are completely screwed, because the next question is How Much? and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job in the world: to be an accountant of the heart. It is late at night. You are by yourself, and all around you, you can hear the sounds of people moving in and out of love, pushing the turnstiles, putting their coins in the slots, paying the price which is asked, which constantly changes. No one knows why.”

— Tony Hoagland, “The Loneliest Job in the World”

"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and being alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You have to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could."

– Louise Erdrich, "The Painted Drum"

his choice

summary: at the end of the day, haechan chooses you despite the distance in time and proximity. but why do you feel so... guilty?

notes: idol!haechan, long distance relationship, no amount of fluff detected in this fic lol 221130 haechan i have real feelings for you

genre: angst | word count: 1.4k

- “baby?”, haechan says on the other line.

“haech… hi.”

you were laying on your bed. it has been a long, tiring week. on the other hand, haechan was sitting in front of his laptop. he was trying to fix his phone, trying to find the right angle for you to see his face clearly via facetime. once he felt everything is settled, he just stared at you. he can’t help but smile at your loving features. you are still beautiful as ever, he thought.

but you can see he was also exhausted. his eyes were kind of droopy, longing for some good night sleep. but he decided to stay up to accompany you while you twist and turn, and find the right sleeping position until you fall asleep.

“not going to bed, haech?”

“i’ll let you sleep first, baby.”

then a faint smile slowly crept on your face.

you thought it was cute. he is still the haechan you knew when he mustered up the courage to say he likes you on that one night in that one september night. you thought it was funny, even. he cannot look you in the eyes when he confessed, shy and all. it was unusual for someone who is loved by plenty to still giggle and blush like a little kid. haechan remains humble, head on the clouds but feet on the ground. and that is why despite the doubts and risks of accepting his love, you took the leap of faith, and haechan never failed to make you feel special every single day.

but with the tremendous amount of work lined up in his unpredictable schedule, you cannot help but feel… sorry.

you would be lying if you say you purposely did not answer some of his calls because he was persistent to see you when he gets the chance to do so.

january 16, 1:07am | haech wrote:

january 16, 1:07am | haech wrote:

where were you?

you weren’t picking up :(

you can almost hear haechan sulking as you read his text.

january 16, 2:15am | you wrote:

just out, haechan.

january 16, 2:16am | haech wrote:

tell me about your day? :)

there were at least six missed calls that you refused to answer before this. as you watched your phone vibrating, you just wished he would… stop. it was also two in the morning from where he is, currently touring and all, while you just came back from work and slept. timezones, the distance; you can’t help but to wonder why he still stays.

january 16, 2:20am | you wrote:

tired, baby.

january 16, 2:20am | haech wrote:

just five minutes, please?

but you just left him on read. the way he waited for you to response as he replied instantly for your texts is already bothering you. you also clearly did not know back then why you would do such a thing to haechan until weeks passed by…

it never occurred to you what exactly it was until you have seen him yawning and falling asleep as the both of you catch up on what has been going on with your lives. you clearly knew it was guilty to have him around while he was struggling to maintain his life and work. the guilt rushed in when he started texting almost apologetic messages saying “i’m sorry, i fell asleep.”, “have a great day, baby! i know you could do it!”, and the recent and out-of-the-blue text message he sent that sent you the urge to hit the block button for his own good:

january 28, 5:55am | haech wrote:

baby. i hope you never get tired of me… of this. i know it has been a rough couple of weeks of us being in different parts of the world. you don’t know how much i want to hold you, kiss you, and hug you at every chance i get. please wait for me to come home. please never be tired. i’m willing to work this out. i’ll make time for you, baby.

don't leave me, please?

and by that time, you knew haechan has been also feeling you were about to back down. it is just that the assumed reasons were different. haechan feels he was losing you because of the lack of time and distance he spends with you, and you, on the other hand, are willing to sacrifice this love that you wanted to keep for a long so he could continue living freely.

so you decided to talk to haechan tonight.

he deserved to at least receive a proper goodbye.

“what time is it there, haech?”

“it’s…” haechan looked at his watch, eyebrows scrunched and all, “two-thirty a.m.”

“aren’t you tired?”

“not when i see you, baby.”

you felt like your heart is about to burst from being squeezed so tightly. you removed your phone from your face and let the camera face in front of the ceiling. you were suppressing your whimpers. it hurts to hear those words; those words that were carefully curated for you to be heard so you would be convinced he is enduring it all when he is not. and giving up the fight is only the answer you have.

“baby…?” haechan asks for you. “still there?”

“yeah, yeah.” you wiped your tears away and faked a forced smile for him to see. you picked up your phone and made sure he could not see any hints of you hurting. “just… picked up something.”

“oh, okay.”

you can hear haechan singing baekhyun’s love again, and you just smiled through the entire mini-show, exclusively for you. he loved singing and sharing his favorite songs with you. you were never a fan of ballads until he came into your life, and suddenly everything felt at ease. but you had to ask before you.

“does it get tiring sometimes, haech?”

“what do you mean?”

“this.”

he looked straight at the camera and stopped the music playing in the background. haechan kind of stood still for seconds, bracing himself on where this conversation is going. but he responded upfront and with no hesitations.

“never.”

“why?” you asked.

“because it’s you.”

“why do you still stay?”

“because it’s you.”

“why do you keep saying it’s me?”

“because i love you.”

haechan can feel the series of questions from you being said so nonchalantly and so monotonously. he already knows your walls are building themselves up as he continuously answers. it was frustrating to see that you were no longer convinced, that the i love yous no longer work.

“stop saying that, haechan.”

“it’s haech.”

“what do i even do for you?”

“you—you make me happy, baby.”

“just go to sleep, haechan.”

“i won’t.”

“why?”

“because i know i won’t be seeing you in the morning after this.”

and you know he was right. you were already consumed by the thought of leaving and convinced he makes himself strong in front of you despite the circumstances.

but haechan is not ready to give it all up, not just yet.

“listen to me, baby. please?”

you turned off your camera, and you can see haechan slightly panicking. but he had to keep his composure still.

“every day, i choose you. my heart chooses you. i come back to you because my heart says so—that you keep me sane. you keep me feeling things; that you keep me afloat; that you keep me human.” haechan insists.

“you are that tiny light that i see whenever i come back to my apartment; and when i see it, it feels like someone’s waiting for me to come home, baby.

you are that someone, baby. you love me because i can fall crumbling and all because you are my home. and you accept my flaws.

it doesn’t matter if i’m tired and all, because you’re… you’re my rest.”

you let out sobs and your cries were no longer able to be contained. haechan waits for you on the other line to open your camera, or at least say something back. he anxiously taps his foot on the floor.

you picked up your phone and there he was, staring intently at a blank screen, biting his lower lip and teary-eyed.

“loving someone is a choice.

and every day, i choose you.”

and before you end the call, you heard him saying:

"i love you so much.

come back to me, baby, please?”

would you?

rose

pairing: mark lee x reader

warnings: none, fluff

word count: 928

You felt Mark's eyes on you as you sighed loudly again. Yet another couple had walked by, arm in arm, giggling affectionately at everything, at nothing. Like the other couples around you, she held a red rose in her free hand. It was Valentine's Day and you were struggling to hide your loneliness in your still-tipsy state.

You turned to him with an eyebrow raised, inviting him to ask the question on his mind. But before he could even get a word out, you interrupted. "I'm fine, Mark."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

His tone softened "It's okay to want that, you know." He gestured towards another happy couple that passed by the restaurant. "And it's okay to still feel sad about, you know... the past."

You knew he felt awkward about bringing it up and the last thing you wanted was for him to walk on eggshells around you. "But it's been years, Mark. I just want to forget him." You felt vulnerability creep into your voice but you were too defeated to pretend right now. And you were with Mark. You knew you didn't have to pretend with him. "He made me feel like something to be ashamed of. It's taking me such a long time to put myself back together."

His large eyes grew softer, if that was possible. "That's a good thing. You know that, right? It means that you won't hurt the next person you're with because you want to heal."

You felt a small lump in your throat as you considered his words. You were healing. It was a slow process but you were certain you would get there in the end thanks to the love and support from friends like Mark.

"Thank you, Mark," you said, your voice thick. Truthfully, you weren't sure if you'd ever find someone else. Love felt so out of reach at the moment.

He gave you a warm smile and squeezed your hand softly but then chuckled nervously and ran a hand through his hair. "So, trying to cheer you up by taking you out on Valentine's Day is working out great, huh?"

You giggled before reassuring him. "I always feel good when I'm with you, Mark." You sighed again before continuing. "It's just, I know it seems like I don't need it, but I want to be spoiled sometimes too, you know?" You gestured towards the couples around you. "I dated someone for years who didn't want to take me out or do nice things for me. Nobody's ever gotten me flowers before. I would have been over the moon to receive just one rose." You looked down at the table as you said that, chuckling awkwardly, knowing how pathetic you must sound. You cleared your throat before changing the subject. "So, how's work? Is your boss still trying to put you in every group project?"

You looked up, startled to see him looking at you intensely. But the expression disappeared as quickly as you had spotted it as he talked about work and how he didn't mind as it was for the good of the company. To your relief, your love life wasn't mentioned again and you spent the evening laughing with your best friend, feeling a little more whole.

The next day, to your surprise, Mark was outside your apartment. He was slightly out of breath but smiling as usual. "Hey, Mark, is everything okay?" you asked as you invited him in.

"Great, Y/N. Perfect, actually." He chuckled and you raised an eyebrow. He held out his hand in answer, and in it was a beautiful long stemmed red rose. Your heartbeat quickened remembering your conversation from last night.

"Mark, I'm really okay, I swear--"

"This is not a pity rose, Y/N," he clarified as if reading your mind. "I'm not giving you flowers because I feel sorry for you."

You nodded, believing him, but still confused. He continued, "I know you're not ready to date, but I want you to know that I'm gonna be here while you put those beautiful, broken pieces back together." He looked down for a second before staring directly into your eyes. "I've had feelings for you for a while, and when you're ready, if you'll let me, I'd love to give everything you deserve. I want to hold your hand in public and take you out on fancy dates and waste money trying to win you a plushie from a claw machine we both know is rigged." He stopped for a moment as you both giggled. "I want to make you feel adored, Y/N."

You stared at him in shock for a second, overcome with emotion. Your heart was racing. You could picture it all. You wanted it. You wanted it with him. And yet, you heard yourself say, "But, Mark--"

"And, before you say anything, no, I'm not gonna put my life on hold waiting for you." He rolled his eyes, predicting everything you were gonna say. "But I want to give this a shot. I want to give us a shot. So take your time because I'm not going anywhere."

He held out the rose, which you shyly accepted. You felt yourself blushing as you smiled and looked into his eyes. His face lit up as your eyes met. "I would buy you a rose every day just to see you smile like that," he said, making your heart speed up.

And suddenly, love didn't feel as far away anymore. Maybe it was right under your nose the whole time.

[11:22 am] Mark Lee could not stop the laughter that spilled from his mouth everytime your lips touched his. It was an automatic reaction, and the same blush of embarrassment covered his face each time.

“Why do you keep laughing?” You asked, giggling as well. Mark groaned, turning away from your intense gaze. Being with you in an intimate way always made Mark’s insides feel like jelly, butterflies erupting in his stomach at the smallest of touches. Each time your lips brushed up against his, he felt like a giddy teen experiencing their first kiss.

“You make me nervous.” Mark answered your question, a shy smile on his face. You raised your hand to cup his jaw, pulling him close to you once more. Despite the two of you dating for nearly ten months, Mark’s eyes widened at the close proximity, as he had never gotten used to it. He didn’t believe he ever would. Mark was able to see every single perfect detail of your face up close and he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume that sent him into a frenzy. He couldn’t be more in love with you at the moment.

“You’re so cute.” You cooed before kissing him again. This time, Mark didn’t laugh, but you didn’t miss the feeling of his lips curling up into a smile smile.

©gyuuss all rights reserved

〔 𝟎𝟗:𝟐𝟔𝐩𝐦 〕 “am i really your boyfriend, y/n?”

the question is so out-of-the-blue, you nearly drop the freshly carven watermelon from your hands and into the kitchen sink. “if your name is ‘mark lee’ and you were born on august 2nd, 1999 in toronto, then yes. you really are my boyfriend,” you say from over your shoulder. “why? do you not want to be?”

“that’s not it,” he sighs, propping himself on an elbow as he stretches across the couch. “it’s just kinda hard to remember that i’m your boyfriend when you have six other guys flirting with you all the time.”

you chuckle to yourself. “since when have the dreamies been flirting with me?”

he immediately sits up and points at you. “so you’re admitting that they do!”

“that’s not what i meant, baby.” you quickly gather the fruit into a container and bring it to the living room, offering a fork to your boyfriend before sitting down beside him. “what ‘six other guys’ would you be talking about, other than them?”

“true…” he murmurs, stabbing at an innocent cube of watermelon and shoveling it in his mouth. you half-expect him to squirm in satisfaction, but he doesn’t. instead, he exhales an exasperated sigh and tosses the fork onto the coffee table. “ahhhh, i don’t know, i don’t know, i don’t know.“

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