>> Take My Breath

man :| i feel like punching myself

“No, it’s fine.  I can wait until you’re done talking to them.” with Yuta please🤎

When Yuta comes over, you’re talking on the phone to your parents. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to see them face-to-face, so it’s nice to at least be able to catch up like this. Yuta sneaks through the front door, takes off his shoes, lays his coat over the arm of the sofa, and he sits down at the other end of the sofa from you, just looking at you and smiling and you can tell that there’s something on his mind that he really wants to say. He’s pretty much bouncing in his seat.

You pull the phone away from your mouth but keep it at your ear as your mother goes on jabbering about something. “What?” You ask Yuta.

He shakes his head, holds his finger to his lips and points at the phone.

“She’ll talk for forever if I let her,” you whisper to him. “What is it?”

But Yuta knows that you’ve been missing your parents, that you don’t always get the chance to have long conversations catching up with them. He shakes his head again more vehemently. “No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

So you bring the phone back toward your mouth, resuming conversation with them.

When you said your mother could go on talking for forever, you meant it. She keeps talking, your father occasionally interjecting to ask you random questions or throw out points to enhance your mother’s stories. After a while you’ve honestly kind of forgotten that Yuta’s sitting there with you, but then he scoots closer and you can’t help but sink toward him, his gravity pulling you in. And then he reaches for your free hand. He starts playing with your fingers, then after a while he moves up to playing with your hair, touching your neck and cheek. Then he’s back to playing with your hand.

You’re so distracted now that you stumble over your words while speaking to your parents. You’ve been on the phone with them for hours, said everything you think you could possibly say, and now with Yuta here touching you all over, you think it’s time to say goodbye, so you quickly do.

Your mother ends the call and as your screen goes dark again, you toss your phone down into your lap and turn your attention to your boyfriend.

“What were you so excited about when you got in?”

Yuta shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing. I could just tell that you were talking to your parents. You were smiling and laughing in that free way you do when it’s them. It just made me really happy. And I wanted to tell you I love you.”

That’s nothing new. Yuta tells you he loves you every day, all the time. He says it first thing when he wakes up and before he falls asleep. He tells you while he’s eating lunch, when he sees something or hears something that reminds him of you. He tells you when you’re falling asleep on his shoulder, when you’re just fixing your hair on a breezy day. He says it all the time, but something about the way Yuta says it in that moment feels different and greater.

“I love you too, Yuta.”

thank you to everyone who sent these in! prompts/requests are now closed, but I’ll be working on the ones I got before this! to see more drabbles you can click here

“Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’ — of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.”

― Elana Dykewomon, Sinister Wisdom 36: Surviving Psychiatric Assault & Creating Emotional Well-Being in Our Communities

The idea of love oddly scares me now a days. The thought of giving my whole self to another… maybe it’s the fear that someone may throw it away? Or maybe the love I have to offer isn’t enough? Or possibly I’m someone who isn’t meant to be loved? Love is such a confusing, yet wonderful thing in life. We will never truly understand the meaning of “love” and what they stand for, but it’s one of the things us human beings  yearn for. Love can be so many things and I think that’s why it’s a gut wrenching fear within me.

Thank you for joining my Ted talk on love.

P.s I know love is scary, but try your best everyday to spread love to those around you.

〔 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.“

Keep reading

touch (mark lee)

lowercase intended

“stop touching me,” mark tells haechan, removing the said man’s arm from his shoulders. “y/n, how do you deal with your boyfriend being like this?” haechan asks. you giggle at the scene in front you. mark isn’t really fond of physical touches even with you, his girlfriend. you have been dating for 5 months now, and you were used to it. he wouldn’t even let you hold his hands for more than a minute. it made you sad at first, but he explained that he just doesn’t like being touched often, and you understood him. it doesn’t mean he loves you less.

a month after

you and mark were both sitting on his couch, watching a movie you weren’t paying attention to anymore. you were busy looking at mark, and how cuddly he looks. you know how it will end if you try to cuddle— him subtly pushing you off him after a few minutes— but you would take those few minutes in his arms any day, so you slowly position yourself, and cuddle him. he wraps his hands around you, and gives you kisses on your forehead. you smile at him, and seize the moment. after a minute, you slowly get off him knowing he would do it himself. “where are you going?” he asks. “hmm? just here beside you,” you smile at him. “come here, let’s cuddle,” he pouts. “getting used to my touches now?” you joke, “the only touch i want on me forever.”

☆ camellia ☆

♩: camellia - slchld

pairings: haechan x gn!reader. genres: springtime fluff. warnings: casual profanity. synopsis: you're the prettiest flower earth has ever witnessed.

haechan calls you many things. baby. bestie. angel. stink bug. my love. stupid ass. bro. haechan also likes to get you flowers when you least expect flowers because—he tells you—when he’s with you, it’s like spring never left.

when haechan gets you flowers, it’s never a small bundle of five roses picked up from the supermarket or a standard arrangement from an outdated catalogue of an online store. it’s peonies; soft pink buds opening to cream. black pearl lisianthus for date nights and fragrant tuberoses on days when the night feels a little colder than usual. haechan never forgets to let you know that you are loved, treasured. so he sends you peach tulips—sixty-nine of them (you counted and have confronted him about the specific number). sometimes, he leaves a bundle of spring-kissed ranunculuses in your locker and an undercooked cupcake—homemade, you presume. sometimes, he gifts you a single white daisy which he stealthily nicks from his vengeful neighbour’s backyard. he’s done it thrice and has never been caught. 

on one morning in early june, you woke up to blushing spring at your doorsteps; a huge bed of hot pink camellias on a low, round glass vase. that week, your entire living room smelled like spring. 

haechan will probably never tell you this, not because he’s got a lion’s pride, he’s just—get this—shy. when he sat across you in a booth of a rundown diner on the side of a forest highway during a late night drive home from his lacrosse game, and when he watched as you took a large bite of the cheeseburger, smiling, mouth full, at how good the sauce was, haechan knew he wanted you. to be with you. to watch you eat cheeseburgers for the rest of his life.

he wished diners didn’t have to close.

that night, haechan thought about writing you a poem. something short with a bit of edge like dickinson. or perhaps a haiku. but he barely passed literature and rhymes were the least of concerns right now. then he thought of flowers. his form of poetic expression. a sixth love language you never knew existed.

haechan calls you many things. but you love it most when he calls you his camellia. for as long as spring still sings and the sun still shines, you’ll always be his most precious camellia.

© luvm4rk 2022. all rights reserved.

1000 likes!

“And I knew it. That’s the worst part: I knew it.”

dangggg man, tumblr is deffo better than wattpad at making me feel like stabbing myself with a fork

— [7:22 pm] it’s the way mark holds you after a long and stressful day. the way his arms completely engulf you as if he’s trying to shield you from the rest of the world, protecting the one he cherishes the most. he leaves a kiss on your forehead as his heartbeat lulls you to sleep and you can’t help but fall more and more in love with him.

it’s the way mark picks up little things for you when he’s out shopping with the notion that “this reminded me of you” or “I just feel like you’d like this” and you do. you love everything mark gifts you, but nothing can beat the greatest gift you’ve ever received: him.

it’s the way his eyes always find yours in a crowd. the packed parties you frequent courtesy of your mutual friend johnny always ends up in the two of you separated. but with one look, mark is able to spot you, silently asking if you were okay. your eyes tell all. if you were fine, he’d let you mingle with the new friends you meet. if you weren’t, he’d quickly swoop in by your side and save you and link your pinky with his. once again, proving that he was your ultimate safe haven. an angel sent to you personally from the skies above.

it’s the way mark lee tells you he loves you without outright saying it. it’s the way that you can feel it every time you’re in his presence. the love radiates off his body as if he can’t hold it in, wanting the whole world to know. dropping down on one knee, he says nothing as he opens the box. he doesn’t have to with the way his gaze speaks nothing but forever. with you.

from mani’s writing game!   taglist: @deputyjuyeon​​​ @wonjaems​​​ @changminurheart​​​ @exfolitae​​​ @lilacdreams-00​​​ @nycol-ie​​​ @sohnkiss​​ @cookydream​​​ @ahtisa02​

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—