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00127am · 3 months

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FEBRUARY 13, 10:45PM

hey, um sorry if it's loud...we're uh, we're walking to the bar now. it's jaehyun by the way. your jaehyun...your friend! your friend... yeah, your friend jaehyun... um anyway, just calling to say hi. i uh... i wish you could have come out tonight. it would be more fun if you had--what? no, i'm talking to yn. it's a voicemail, they can't hear you. i'm trying to leave a message and you're...what? no, i'm not confessing. why would i do that over the phone, yo--

FEBRUARY 13, 11:00PM

hey uh if you got a voicemail from me than delete it... it was a uh, accident and um taeyong was saying some stuff in the back that...just don't listen to it. nothing bad, just um, he was being taeyong...so, you know. um i'm just calling to say that i wish you were here...uh is it cheesy to say that it doesn't feel like my birthday without you? if you're still up, just um give me a call when you get this. i uh... i want to hear your voice so... get ready to sing me happy birthday or something.

FEBRUARY 14, 12:06AM

it's my birthday and the first thing i'm doing is calling you. that's weird right? that i just can't stop thinking about you? that i'm starting my birthday by calling you? i just... can i be honest? i'm um...god, i'm so drunk right now. they have these um... these two thousand won shots that just... i've had like... six? no, no uh...seven. i don't know, i can't think ... well, um i'm thinking about you, i guess. but i'm always thinking about you so... hey uh, don't-don't make plans for tomorrow. or uh... today. my birthday. valentine's day. i want to confess, to you...today, so um don't do anything. ok?

☏ new mail! @thecaffeinatedfangirl : you have one new message from 00127am ⤷ here's your finished request! sorry it took so long to get out TT i feel like i really, really can't write jaehyun well at all but i tried my best to make it sound like him (or at least how he sounds in my head)! worried that nothing will ever top the mark voicemail... going to be honest. but! i hope you enjoy, thank you so much for requesting, and thank you even more for supporting me! ♡

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @firstdonutllamafarm @222brainrot @scinclaitnoir thank you so much for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 3 months

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@ barkingatthemoon best friend! liu yangyang x gn! reader, about sickeningly sweet love confessions, friends to lovers, kissing, lower-case intended word count 2k

💿 now playing ... harvey by hers

"wanna date?"

it's a question poised in the lull of your favorite song, asked within half of a beat before it's drowned out by the rhythmic thrum of the lyrics and consumed by the canary-esque tone of the vocalist. a tone which has nothing on you, voice sweet and even, every word framed with the melodic waver in your pitch. and when you propose this question, head dangling off the edge of your mattress, that ever-so-pretty voice of yours is nothing but nonchalant. as if you had just asked the time.

from your upside down world, there's a tingling feeling which races from the stretch of your abdomen to your nostrils, forcing you to blink fast and swallow hard. your nose twitches, scrunching and relaxing in a poor attempt to relieve itself of the buzzing sensation. but it doesn't seem to make any semblance of a difference. instead, it begins to throb in the top of your temple, pressing down against the walls of your cranium as if they might very well break down. you're not quite sure if it's the silence from your best friend or your position that's making it hard to swallow, but you don't think that the cause exactly matters at the end all be all.

you watch him with doe eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheeks only to be stuck in the arch of your brows as you blink back at him. you can feel your face getting hot, a blush burning at your cheeks and searing the tips of your ears. this reaction, without a doubt, is from him. not being upside down. not the silence. just yangyang, puffy lips parted and eyes wide.

he blinks obliviously at you, tongue hesitating at the back of his teeth, and you begin to wonder if he had ever heard you in the first place. so you open your mouth to say it again, lips just barely pursed in into the beginnings of a consonant before he's waving you off. "i heard you the first time,"

unlike the songbird singer of your favorite song and unlike you, yangyang's voice is caught in between something strained (tone low and rough as if it has been dragged upon gravel) and hesitant (yet you're not quite sure if you could describe it as that, not with the way that each ending syllable seemed to rush after one another). in all iterations of his voice, this is one that you like least of all. it tells of an oncoming rejection, the thought process of finding just the right words to let you down.

"ah," you're less casual this time, words stuck in the back of your throat, "is that a no?"

"what?"

"i'm asking if you're rejecting me," you clarify, finally unable to take the rush to your head as you sit upright, "my confession,"

he leans forward and if you weren't so preoccupied with picking yourself up, perhaps you would have been flustered by the lack of distance (though you guess that personal space has never been a forte of yangyangs). he raises a finger in the air, gesturing in circles as if to rewind to your previous words. "that was a confession?"

"what else would it be?" the sudden surge of movement forces you to clench your eyes shut, pressure mounting up behind them as if it might spill out with tears. it takes a couple moments of blinking before your vision returns to normal, accompanied by a faint ringing in your ears. "anyway, i thought you knew,"

yangyang sputters for words, blonde hair falling onto his face in a manner that really doesn't help you keep your composure. he shoots you an incredulous look, eyebrows arched and jaw nearly touching the floor. he brings a hand to his chest, tapping as he speaks, as if he couldn't believe that he's the crush in mention. "knew that you're into me?"

"yes," your tone is bordering the line between a twinge of embarrassment and the foundation of irritation that's bubbling at the back of your throat, "i've been making it pretty obvious,"

"not obvious enough," he grumbles, spoken under his breath as he brings a hand to scratch at the bridge of his nose--looking everywhere but your eyes, narrowed in on him with something more akin to a glare than a glance.

you huff, rolling your eyes as you lean onto your arms, flicking him on the forehead with a force much to harsh to be anything lesser than aggravation. "next time i'll make sure to get on one knee to propose so it's obvious enough for you,"

he swats your hand away, pouting as he nurses his forehead. his discomfort evokes a laugh on your part, lips twitching upwards from their previous position held in the beginnings of a sneer. you can never stay annoyed at him, not when he looks like that. an expression that screams pathetic in every way but overt words as he looks up at you. his bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his next words are spoken within a silver of a breathe--desperate and urgent.

"yes, i do. so, so badly"

it's a statement spoken in the middle of one of your songs, tone so gentle that it was almost drowned out by the steady beat of the instrumental. so quiet, that you're tempted to ask him to repeat it--partially to make sure that you really did hear him correctly but mostly because you just want to hear him say it one more time. there's no question about what he's responding too, voice completely consumed by a honey, lovesick lilt. one that you find far superior to any intonation used by your songbird singer or any emphasis that falls from your own throat. an inflection that you will revisit, over and over and over again until any and all accuracy of the memory is lost.

"ok,"

"ok?"

"ok," you repeat, lips quirking into a teasing smile (one he knows all too well, one that sticks to his skin and haunts him with every waking moment--god, he can't get you out of his mind), "what? you disappointed or something?"

he's quick to clarify, rebutting with a dirty look, "no. i just...i don't know. not very romantic was it?"

"ouch," you wince back in faux pain, holding a hand to your heart with a dramatic drawl, "should i have bought flowers?"

"yes, sure, whatever," he acknowledges your quip only to ignore it, spitting out an agreement as quick as he can in order to get to his next phrase. so rushed that you're fifty percent positive that he didn't even hear what you said, "can i kiss you?"

his question makes you reel, feeling dizzy as the words are punctuated with a look from him that's a hair away from begging. and oh god, you feel like you're going to faint. maybe you're still feeling the aftereffects of your head rush. one look at him says otherwise.

"do you even have to ask?" your lips curve into a smile as you answer. a smile that makes his hands curl into tight fists, knuckles burning a bleach white. he's one hundred percent sure that if he doesn't kiss you right now, then he'll explode. though, it doesn't exactly matter in the grand scheme of things as he thinks that he'll reach the same end when he actually does.

and that's certainly what it feels like as yangyang leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. one that he ends only to begin another, more assured and slightly less gentle, less featherlight. he sighs when he kisses you, as if he's been holding back that same sigh since he met you. one only to be relieved by a kiss he has always so desperately craved. he kisses you urgently, like he's making up for lost time. a pacing and utter adoration that makes your head spin, butterflies fluttering in your stomach only to emerge from your throat in the form of a quiet whine. a noise that has yangyang practically lunging on top of you, hands coming up to hold your face. slender fingers sliding up your cheekbones and resting before your ears, fingernails knotted in the edges of your hair. and then he's pulling away, smushing messy, lingering kisses all over your face.

his lips are everywhere, on the full of your cheeks and the space beneath the arch of your brow. the corner of your mouth and your chin, your forehead and eyelid. chest against chest, his heartbeat hammering so loudly that you wouldn't be surprised if it leapt straight out.

"maybe we should have skipped the confession part and went straight to this," your words are hummed against his face, eyes fluttering somewhere between open and shut as he lines kisses down the angle of your jaw. your arms coming to hang around his shoulders, "might have saved you from my unromantic confession,"

you can feel him grin against you and you know a teasing comment isn't too far behind. "i wish we did. that was the worst confession i've ever received,"

he makes his way back to your lips, pressing soft kisses to the corners before capturing your lips once more. this time, you lead, pulling him ever-so-slightly closer as you take his bottom lip in between your teeth. you nip playfully, soothing over your bite with a passive, lazy drag of your tongue. a feeling that evokes a groan from your counterpart, fingertips digging into the flesh of your face.

"should i take it back then?" it's muttered against his lips, each word spoken between kisses that have his knees buckling, "the worst confession you've ever received, that is,"

yangyang scoffs, words slurred and spoken in the middle of a kiss. "you can't take it back,"

you laugh, a pretty sound that has his ears ringing. one that starts in the back of your throat and ends up bubbling in his, before it's interrupted with a whiny whimper as you pull away. a reaction that nearly has all the blood in your body rushing to your head. you're not sure that sitting up could fix the sensations this time.

instead, you bring a finger to trace along the expanse of his neck. fingernail grazing against his adams apple (which bobs when he swallows, hard, at the feeling of your touch--an action accompanied a slight shiver and unsteady inhale). you continue your journey upwards until you're skimming the curve where his throat meets his chin. and there you hesitate, before flicking your finger harshly upwards. "can't i?"

despite the way in which his face is forced upwards by the motion of your hand, yangyang's eyes never leave yours. they're half-lidded, eyelids drooping down like he's drunk. lips are a vermillion red, puffy and swollen. a small line of spit stuck between the top and bottom and you can't be sure whether that's his or yours. all you do know is that if he keeps looking at you like that, you might just drop dead. they say looks can kill, after all.

"no," he replies, voice hoarse and eyes drawn in soft crescents "it's too late. we're dating, aren't we? you said ok,"

you huff out a whisper of a laugh, expression darting into a grin that you just can't hold back. one that practically threatens to split your face in two as you undertake a teasing lilt. "only because you looked so pathetic when you agreed,"

he wrinkles his nose at your words, toying with a lopsided smile that makes your heart flip. "if that's what it takes for you to date me then i'll look pathetic all you want,"

"i don't think you'll have to try any harder than usual in that endeavor," you remark, shutting your eyes as you lean back onto your palms, "in fact, i'd say that--"

but you're cut off with a kiss, then another, and another, and another. until you've all but forgotten about rescinding your confession, or what you were going to say about him. and the only thing you can think about is him. not that that is anything out of the norm.

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @yangasm thank you for all your support and love! <3

🗯️ i love yangyang so much guys TᴖT i don't even think this is written well because i wrote it so rushed, all in one sitting, because i just needed to get this out of my system. there's something so lovely to me about mundane, realistic confessions and banter that i can't help but think about them all the time. writing this made me all fuzzy and i hope it does the same for you all! ♡

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00127am · 3 months

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"i think i'm in love with you," "... who are you?"

@ sidecharacter'sguidetoromance to put it plain and simple: you don't have time for romance. not between your residency and your coursework that is. and you certainly don't have time to entertain campus crush, park wonbin's incessant, anything but romantic, confessions. unfortunately for you, this simple fact doesn't seem to deter him.

@ information [🚃] pretty boy! park wonbin & med student! afab! reader genre fluff, comedy, uni au, strangers to lovers, crush at first sight, bin is head over heels, mutual pining, campus crush wonbin who yearns and top student yn who doesn't have time for this, idiots in love warnings cursing status wip! ⤷ taglist always open!

@ masterlist @ ♡♡♡♡ @ soundtrack

follow others like this! playlists. yn 𐦍 bin

user sidecharacter'sguidetoromance's posts i. an acute case of tachycardia ii. coming soon!

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 3 months

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"i just can't get you out of my head," "... nice,"

@ pawpossitesattract you're not one hundred percent sure where your cat runs off too during odd hours of the day, but you can't exactly complain when she comes back bearing gifts-- sets of silver, hooped earrings that are just your style. it's just too bad that this leads to your upstairs neighbor banging on your door, cat in tow and ears looking particularly empty.

@ information [🐈] upstairs neighbor! song eunseok & afab! reader genre fluff, comedy, uni au, strangers to lovers, crush at first sight, opposites attract, mutual pining, dog owner seok & cat owner yn, idiots in love warnings cursing status wip! ⤷ taglist always open!

@ masterlist @ ♡♡♡♡ @ soundtrack

follow others like this! playlists. yn ⪩ ⪨ seok

user pawpossitesattract's posts i. cat burglary! ii. coming soon!

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 4 months

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"you're an unlucky man when it comes to baccarat, detective,"

@ rollthedice detective chittapon leechaiyapornkyul can't seem to beat you, the vision casino's own high roller, at any game of cards (or any odds of gambling for that matter). but he can stop your repeated attempts to rob the vision's vault.

@ information [🎱] private eye! ten lee & afab! thief! reader genre enemies to lovers, fluff, comedy, insane sexual tension, ten is so pathetically head over heels warnings use/consumption of cigarettes & alcohol, sexual humor/innuendos, cursing, suggestive though never nsfw! status updates every friday @ 10AM ⤷ taglist always open!

@ masterlist @ ♡♡♡♡ @ soundtrack

user rollthedice's posts i. the ace of hearts ii. queen of clubs iii. five of diamonds ♠. valentine's special iv. six of clubs v. five of spades vi. seven of diamonds vii. nine of hearts viii. coming soon!

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 3 months

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ASTEROID BLUES is a cowboy-bebop inspired, x afab! reader fic series that revolves around the futuristic misadventures of easygoing bounty hunter, ln yn.

info. wanted posters are not full plot synopsis. for individual fic information, please click on the 'here' underneath each section. sfw fics will be posted on 00127AM, while all nsfw works will be posted on ROCKSTARYUTA.

soundtrack. tank! seatbelts young jesus logic kimidakenotenshi soul scream interlude: past to present nct u

living bounty to bounty, who's your first target?

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ──── ✈︎ sfw johnny suh ⌖ space cowboy ― fellow bounty hunter wanted for his ... unorthodox methods. the only problem? he's hunting you too. SESSION I. black dog serenade kim jungwoo ⌖ high roller ― wanted for a number of debts owed to some of the galaxy's most powerful syndicates. try not to get too distracted by that charm of his, or else you'll find yourself toeing the line between professional and personal. SESSION II. gateway shuffle huang guanheng ⌖ bartender ― wanted for the commodification and underground auction of information. secrets traded for a drink. watch your words and your glass. SESSION III. easy come, easy go lee donghyuck ⌖ con artist ― wanted for fraud, embezzlement, and that silver tongue of his that seems to constantly get him into trouble. or save him from it. whatever you do, just don't manage to become his next mark. SESSION IV. see you space cowgirl, someday, somewhere! liu yangyang ⌖ pilot ― wanted for illegal gambling and racing. in his world, the most important thing is staying one step ahead--so don't fall behind. SESSION V. boogie woogie feng shui zhong chenle ⌖ heir ― wanted for his outrageously large fortune tied to his namesake. he's playing a dangerous game in the galaxy's elite circles, so tread carefully, lest you become entangled with his high-stakes world. SESSION VI. honky tonk woman oh sion ⌖ journalist ― wanted for learning something he shouldn't have, wrong place, wrong time. whatever you do, don't underestimate him. after all, you know what they say, the pen is mightier than the sword. SESSION VII. stray dog strut maeda riku ⌖ thief ― wanted for his most audacious heist yet. a heist that involved stealing from the wrong person this time around. a person who wants the phantoms thief's head on a platter. be vigilant, or you might miss him before you even know he's there. SESSION VIII. see you space samurai click here if you have any further information about these fugitives

BOUNTY WORTH ₩2,500,000

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ──── ✈︎ ®️ nsfw moon taeil ⌖ ceo ― wanted for the enterprise he has built from the ground-up. it's a shame that the only way to get to him is to become his personal assistant. SESSION IX. you're gonna carry that weight lee taeyong ⌖ hacker ― wanted for the infiltration and theft of millions of megabytes from the 119 conglomerate. he probably knows where you are before you do. ever heard of a digital footprint? SESSION X. cowboy funk nakamoto yuta ⌖ hit man ― wanted for the assassination of the galaxy's most prominent politician. watch your back. in his line of work, you rarely see him until it's too late. SESSION XI. hard luck woman qian kun ⌖ igp officer ― wanted for arresting the son of one of the most notorious cartels in the galaxy. he's not very willing to roll over and be captured, certainly not when he's trying to arrest you. SESSION XII. waltz for venus kim doyoung ⌖ doctor ― wanted for preforming back room operations and illegal modifications. his medical expertise is only second to his ethical ambiguity. try not to lose a limb. SESSION XIII. ganymede elegy xiao dejun ⌖ entertainer ― wanted for his most recent scandal involving a heated affair with the igp chief's wife. one that was destined to end poorly from the start. the world is his stage, avoid getting caught in the spotlight. SESSION XIV. pierrot la fou mark lee ⌖ collector ― wanted for the prized artifact that lies deep within his vault. seems like your employer is willing to do anything to get their hands on it, including sending you to charm your way into stealing it. SESSION XV. brain scratch lee jeno ⌖ informant ― wanted for the dissemination of information regarding neo zone tech. hailed as a whistleblower, he's wanted galaxy-wide. just don't believe everything he says, or you might just find yourself amidst one of his rumors. SESSION XVI. sympathy for the devil click here if you have any further information about these fugitives

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @firstdonutllamafarm @yangasm @sunflowerbebe07 @scinclaitnoir @hyuka-bby thank you for supporting me! ♡ ⤷ for those who are / are not on my general taglist : please let me know if you would like to be included on any of these fics taglist!

──── ✈ see you space cowboy ...

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00127am · 3 months

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QUEEN OF CLUBS : a charismatic woman in a position of power

🃝 🃝 🃝

“What a coincidence, Detective. Who knew you’d try your hand at poker,”

Ten laughs, tossing back his head and meeting your narrowed eyes. “I’m feeling lucky,”

“Oh?” your lips curve into a knowing smile, “So am I. Mind if I join you?”

There’s a slight hitch in his breath at your question, one which he hopes goes unnoticed (it doesn’t, but you refrain from any such taunting remarks). He beckons to the open chair to his left with a sweeping hand and a flicker of something quite unreadable behind pretty, dark irises. “Please,”

As you take your seat, the private eye is able to fully take in your appearance. And this time, his breath really does catch-- stalling in his throat as you lean back in your chair, staring him down with full, unwavering attention. You’re something else. And the dollar green dress which is ensnared on every curve and arch of your stature isn’t exactly helping matters. Nor is the way you keep toying with the cigarette caught in between your slender fingers. Or the way his eyes keep darting to your stained, puffy lips every chance he gets. It’s just professional curiosity he tells himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

“You got a light?”

You’re looking at him expectantly, head angled in a way which makes him feel like he’s the only person in the room. As if your attention truly belongs to him and him alone. But then the illusion is shattered with a slight twitch of your lips as amusement trickles into your eyes. He’s painfully transparent to you. So utterly infatuated that you can’t help but struggle to hold back a laugh. There’s a slight frown on Ten’s face as he answers, digging his lighter out of his pocket. He knows you’re toying with him, teasing (and it’s working, not that he would ever admit it). How annoying.

Along with his lighter, he slides out his own cigarette-- putting it between his lips and biting down with fanged canines. He lights it--eyes fluttering to meet yours in the process--and before you can outstretch your hand, he slides it back into his pocket where it disappears into the shadow of the fabric. That earns a reaction, a flash of annoyance on your pretty face which disappears as quickly as it came-- so much so that Ten can’t be completely sure that he didn’t imagine it. The detective leans back in his chair, arms falling against the rests below them comfortably. His legs are spread as he slouches, taking a long drag of his cigarette. This time, he’s positive about the occurrence of your reaction as your lips snap into an irked scowl.

He chuckles, looking at you with cat-like eyes. His voice is low and taunting, matching the darkened expression of his irises. “Need a light that bad, huh?”

You hold back a scoff, teeth biting down upon your tongue to keep from snapping out a harsh rebuttal. You hope he can’t see your latent annoyance but you know that he can. He notices everything. Every stammer in your expression and jolt of your fingers. Every minuscule hesitation in each and every one of your actions and words. It’s irritating. Infuriating, even. You have him in the palm of your hand and yet, you find yourself to be as crystalline as glass. You don’t like being somewhat out of control of a situation, even if it is just by a millimeter.

Blinking down to his cigarette, you pause for a moment and consider. Rolling your tongue over every flirtation, every comment and silver-tongued compliment you could possibly muster. The man in front of you isn’t exactly making it easy. Tongue caught in between his smug grin, slim fingers tapping some melody on the cushy fabric of the chair he occupies. An occupation that happens to be performed with legs spread wide, the slightest buck of his hips as he readjusts. A movement that makes you see red.

“Can’t help an addiction,” is the response you decide upon and despite all attempts for any semblance of smoothness in your tone, your words come out grated through grit teeth. And oh god, Ten would smoke three packs a day if it meant seeing you give him that reaction again.

But before the detective can even think about relishing in his small victory against you, you’re standing up. And it only takes a painfully long second for you to be hovering over him, knee placed neatly between his thighs and hands resting just above his shoulders-- careful not to graze them with even the slightest touch. He shudders at the unprecedented close contact, hair raising on the back of his neck and mouth feeling dry. You’re slow in your motions to place your own cigarette in between cherry-red lips, watching his every response with a steeled gaze that makes him take a sharp intake of breath. And then, you lean forward pressing your cigarette against his own in one fluid motion.

He never noticed the exact coloration of your irises or the small, dark beauty marks underneath your eyes. Nor did he catch the small scar slicing through the bridge of your nose or the slight divot in your chin. Or the way your eyelashes fawn on your cheeks each time you blink or the fashion in which small strands of hair lick against your flesh. All of these things, like most others about you, unnoticeable with distance.

A decreased distance that makes his heart feel like it’s going to implode, his entire body reacting to your proximity like a dog in heat. It’s embarrassing, the way he unconsciously leans into your touch, desperate for any sliver of affection. Head spinning and lips parted as he wets them with a lingering tongue. Eyes batting up at you as his breath stutters into silent pants, eyebrows furrowed in a humiliating show of what you find closest to need.

But then, you’re gone. Sitting back in your chair with crossed legs, a lit cigarette, and a self-satisfactory smile. You take a drag, never moving your eyes from your entertained observation of the man to your right. This victory, much larger than his own, rivals him in every way. As if through this, you have set him straight. Once again reaffirming the food chain. Your lips have quirked into something much more arrogant, expression staring back at him saying “I win” in every way but words.

The detective isn’t quite sure he would be able to tell you what had just happened if you asked. But he’s not sure that he would mind if it happened again.

“Thanks for the light,” you purr, turning to the direction of the dealer and beckoning him over with two fingers, “Ever the gentleman, Detective Lee,” Ten swallows, hard.

taglist. @yangasm @misted-dream @evilsailorsenshi @yeosangsbiceps @222brainrot @scinclaitnoir thank you for supporting roll the dice ♡

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🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 3 months

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FIVE OF DIAMONDS : a financial change is coming

🃅 🃅 🃅

Contrary to popular belief, it’s extremely hard to focus on the game of poker when the insufferably confident woman to your left had just given you a proxy kiss only a few minutes prior. And it’s even harder to focus on winning said game of poker when your heart is beating a mile a minute with each subtle movement of her frame (Ten attests that it’s nothing more than the thrill of the game, certainly not any such feelings he has for you).

Any and all luck the detective previously had, he can feel slipping away with every fraction of a second spent fantasizing about recalling your stunt.

You, on the other hand, were certainly right about your odds. Always managing to skip three steps ahead of all of the other opponents (himself included) and play if off like they’re the ones in control. As if you barely have a sense of how to play the game. It’s a clever strategy and you’re certainly a good actress with the way you’re fumbling with the cards and anxiously scratching at the surface of your nails. But if it’s anything like your game of baccarat, then he’s positive that your attitude will change in the blink of an eye when you sense that your opponent is out of good plays. Especially when Ten has a sinking suspicion that the only reason you’re ahead in the first place is because you’re a card sharp.

He began thinking it during your first game with him, after all, the chances of you surpassing Ten’s own skills at the game is a million to one. And (with no offense to you, of course), the detective doubts you could beat those odds. Your cheating is an outlier in his equation, a probability that he simply cannot count for. You’re an unpredictable gambler, someone who’s poker face never wavers nor falls (no pun intended). Ten just can’t figure you out. Nor can he seem to best you.

And, oh god, it’s driving him up the wall.

So much so that he can barely recall the rules of poker. So much so that every shift in his direction from you has his head spinning. It’s getting on his nerves. You might just be the most aggravating woman that the detective has ever had the displeasure of meeting. He throws down a two pair with an aggressive flick of his wrist. His nimble fingers toy with the rest of the cards, slipping between and over his nails in practiced precision. His eyes never look down towards them, peripheral always focused on you--leaning against the table with a hidden enthusiasm, one covered up with the exaggerated biting of your lip and the faux nervous twitch of your eyes.

If you noticed his continual glances in your direction, you didn’t outright show it. But he knows you did. He can tell with the way your fingers trace the edges of your chips in an agonizingly slow pace. And the way you have your jaw tilted in that alluring show of arrogance, the same one that makes him grit his teeth. Ten knows from the way your tongue snakes out from your mouth and slides slowly across the bottom of your top lip before darting back inside like it was nothing more than his imagination. And from the fashion in which you have yourself propped up against your seat, dress pulling tightly against smooth flesh. The split hem of the fabric creeps up at your thighs, high enough to reveal the jut of your hip bone before it curves down to cup your- the detective snaps his head back up to the table, the tips of his ears flushed a handsome red.

Your lips blossom into a knowing grin at the reaction. He tosses a four of a kind onto the velveteen felt top with a scowl.

You raise. Ten follows suit.

Your free hand makes its way to palm at the venomously tinted cocktail an onlooker brought you (no doubt persuaded with that grating, charming intonation of yours) before raising it to your lips. You drink it eagerly and elegantly, sparse blue droplets spilling from your lips and slipping down your chin. There, they leave an excruciatingly stagnant trail of nearly transparent kisses declining the length of your throat before they’re just about all swept away with the absent minded swab of your handkerchief. Droplets of alcohol that he’s embarrassingly jealous of, wishing instead that it was his mouth pressed against the expanse of your neck--making your pretty lips part in something other than delight at his continued discomfort. You dab at your wetted lips, careful not to remove any wine colored lipstick. Ten clenches his fists, knuckles turning a blanched white.

You raise again. The detective mimics.

And then his attention is directed to the movement of your figure, leaning over him on the table as you laugh at something the man to his right said. You’re doing it on purpose, dangling yourself right in front of his eyes. Eyes which can only watch and hands that can only remain pressed against the poker table in a manner which is anything but composed. Your eyes have become upturned crescents, hair falling to the front of your face as you lean a bit farther, standing on the tips of your toes. You’re wavering a bit in your stature, a motion which nearly forces his hand to raise to your form. Delicate fingers digging into your hip and holding you steady as he kneads at your flesh.

But he doesn’t.

Too afraid that if he did, every shred of self respect would leave his body faster than he’d blink. Or that his hands (and their weight) would reveal something that he’s much too unwilling to admit. Something that you already know, as much as he likes to pretend you don’t. He’s not quite sure how long you were leaning before him (twenty-two seconds but who’s counting), but to him, it lasted an eternity.

But then you’re leaning back, eyes sliding to his own in a manner that Ten could find almost familiar. A look that causes his stomach to lurch, butterflies fluttering up to his throat where he swallows them down with an irritated gulp. And Ten is forced to return to the game (as much as he can) as you sit, perched upon your swiveling throne as you offer him a seemingly distracted apology, one intertwined with underlying teasing tones. A phrase he exchanges with silence, for the fear that he’d accidentally blurt out exactly how he’s imagining you.

You toss down a royal flush. Ten slides a straight against the table.

Wait… what?

As previously mentioned, it’s not often that the genius detective Ten Lee finds himself awestruck and more importantly, wrong. It’s even more seldom that he finds himself in this situation twice. By the same woman nonetheless.

The detective scrambles to regain his wits in an instant, snapped back to reality by the jangle of the clips being slid in your direction. You won. Something that Ten didn’t exactly expect despite his inattentiveness. Specifically because last time he checked, he was the one holding the royal flush-- not you. But it seems his entire deck was swapped with nothing more than a skilled trick of the hand during an all too distracting act. Or magic. Something that he would rather believe than the fact that he got played by a conniving con artist sitting no more than three feet to his left. One staring him down with cat-like eyes, a pile of chips which could fill a bag, and his own lighter sitting atop your winnings. Spoils of war. A trophy.

Your words are nothing short of an invitation.

“Better luck next time, Detective,”

taglist. @yangasm @misted-dream @wooluvsworld @evilsailorsenshi @yeosangsbiceps @222brainrot @scinclaitnoir thank you for supporting roll the dice ♡

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🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 4 months

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JANUARY 1ST, 00:03AM

hey! uh hey... this might be weird but um happy new year! well, uh that's not the weird part, no the weird part is that um... like... i don't know man. i've recorded this like twenty times already, since uh eleven fifty? i think? i actually wanted to send it before the countdown but um... here we are. yeah i'm not sending this one either. it shouldn't be that hard to confess to the person you like right? not that a phone call is that romantic either but dude... i just can't stop thinking about you. and it's driving me crazy like i can't keep it to myself anymore man. oh shit is that two minutes...oh fuck um no cancel. delete...delete! DELETE DO NOT SEND DO NOT--

JANUARY 1ST, 00:05AM

hey um don't listen to the voicemail you just got from me! i um said some stuff that ... look man i'm a little drunk right now and -- MARK GET OVER HERE -- haechan dude i'm literally on the phone. no it's a voicemail... dude if they picked up i wouldn't be having this conversation with you. stop, dude, come on... no hyuck move--

JANUARY 1ST, 00:10AM

ok um hey, it's me again. uh mark. it's mark. mark lee. i'd appreciate it if you didn't listen to the uh... the two other voicemails i left. i just wanted to call and say um happy new year! you've been on my mind lately and oh... is that weird to say? man that makes me sound like some kind of pervert. uh ignore that then, i mean... i just... can i see you tomorrow? i um... i need to talk to you about something. nothing uh super serious! like don't worry i just... AGAIN? THAT WAS NOT TWO MINUTES I'M NOT DONE YET I--

JANUARY 1ST, 00:12AM

i think i'm in love with you.

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 1 month

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YOU HAVE A NEW LIKE! select NCT members as hinge messages i've received 𓍯𓂃 all for shits & giggles! warnings cursing, yang's (14) mentions a kys joke, taeyong's second message (17) mentions blood

🧾 © 00127am 2O24

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00127am · 2 months

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"you're spiderman?!" "NO! no... who's that??"

@ hero4hire being spiderman has always come naturally to mark lee. he'd even go as far as saying it's easy—no bragging intended. well... it was easy until his identity is revealed to the one person from whom it must be kept at all costs: you. nyu's most renowned, promising, and adjudicating law student. a law student who seems to hate mark lee just as much as she hates spiderman.

@ information [🕷️] spiderman! lee mark & law student! afab! reader genre fluff, comedy, smau, uni au, spiderman au, one sided enemies to lovers, mark is down atrociously bad, billion and one new york references (native new yorker warning) warnings cursing, au typical violence & gore status wip! ⤷ taglist always open!

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user hero4hire's posts i. your friendly neighborhood spider--mark??!! ii. coming soon!

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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00127am · 2 months

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qian kun & gn! reader about summer heat, sharing a bed, non-sexual intimacy, roommates who are “just friends,” lowercase intended word count 2K words

JULY 26 87 degrees 📀 小雨天气 by 苡慧, 嘿人李逵, 十七草

“it’s hot”

your words are just short of a half-hearted groan, slipping through the abrupt ruffle of the sheets as you (poorly attempt) to desperately kick off the comforter from the expanse of your legs. it only takes a second before you're arching your back in the fashion of a cat, stretching out your limbs in search of the only untouched portion of the mattress, toes straining and muscles tight. and when you do find it, relishing in the cold relief of the unexplored fabric, it's a feeling nothing if not short lived, stifled by the heat of your roommate's breath fanning against the side of your neck and the brush of his knuckles against the bare skin of your stomach.

"you’ve said that,”

his reply is spoken in a low, quiet inflection. one barely above a whisper, and yet with the lack of distance, one which deceivingly sounds much louder. kun's words are partnered with the motion of his legs as he attempts to shift to something akin to what you assume to be a more comfortable position--knees knocking against your own and hand retracting from your torso as if he was scalded. cheeks burnt a rosy red, rivaling the heat of summer as he pushes his hair back upon his head with an impassive undertaking.

“i’ll keep saying it,”

he huffs and despite the darkness of the room, you know he's shooting you an incredulous expression. “that won’t make it any less hot,”

“you know what would make it less hot,” you words are acute--directed at him with a acumated accuracy--as you angle your head upwards, slightly grazing his chin as you narrow your eyes at the shadowed frame of his silhouette.

it takes him a moment to find the words, to compose himself enough to muster an actual answer other than an audible gulp. an embarrassingly loud response doubling as a last ditch effort to relieve the sudden dryness in his mouth. “what?”

“if you got out of my bed,”

the noise that leaves kun's mouth can be likened more to a whine than anything else, the hand previously laying upon his forehead falling to rest upon his eyes. “it’s too hot in my room,”

you raise a brow, lips parted and tongue lifted against the sharpened point of canines. your words are drawled, consumed by a sarcasm otherwise suffocated by the casual tone of affection. “so your solution is to sleep in a twin sized bed with your roommate?”

kun's quick to jump to his own defense, parting his fingers and snapping his gaze towards your own. an undertaking which he ultimately, immediately regrets within the first fraction of a second, seeing far too much of those pretty eyes of yours for his voice to remain steady. it takes all his effort (and a calculated cough from the back of his throat) to beholden any shred of faux apathy--lips pursed before reluctantly curving into the beginnings of his softly enunciated consonants. “the couch is uncomfortable,”

a noise that can only ever be interpreted as disbelief is quick to leave your ajar mouth. “more uncomfortable than sleeping on top of me?”

he hesitates, swallowing quickly only to part his lips in the swift beginnings of a further explanation. one that begins only to end with the tensing of his jaw, before repeating the process three times over until your roommate is positively confident that any and all arguments are utterly incomprehensible and inconclusive. he intends to think up some witty remark, something to have you grinning and pushing back on his shoulder (he loves that habit of yours, though ten would argue that kun seems to love everything about you... ) but the only clever rebuttal he summons is:

“… yeah?”

you laugh and for the moment, for the split second in time which his ears ring from the airy, tired expression of your continued amusement at his own expense--he's holding nothing but a puffed up pride from his not-so-witty, very-much-not-so-clever response. (speaking of ears ringing, he might have tinnitus. is it possible to contract it from long term exposure to a roommate who sends him into something just short of cardiac arrest?)

"you don't sound very confident," your tone is a whisper away from mockery, flashing him that crooked and right leaning smile that hes found to be burned into his memory (so burned in fact that even the sher recollection of it makes him feel as if he has been set alight, pun intended). he only hums in return, a reply that spells out defeat in every way but overt words.

and for a few moments, with the lull in your usual back and forth, you're met with nothing but the steady inhale and exhale of your counterpart and the accompanying song of cicadas which thrums through the open windows. it's within this intermission that you find yourself growing ever warmer. though you can't be too sure if it was from the humid heat of july or the ever decreasing distance between you and your roommate--however, you find it safest to assume the former (despite all signs pointing to the latter).

the comfortable silence between the two of you is interrupted only by the shift of your frame, flipping over to face him with a sluggish roll of your shoulders. you're much closer than before, albeit there's more of you on the bed now then off of it, and you tense--body pressed gingerly against his own in a far from subtle affection that has kun about to drop dead on the spot. it's a touch which lingers, as if you're testing the waters, waiting for the inevitable, brash jerk of his stature that never seems to come. "i don't mind it,"

"me? or the heat?"

your answer follows instantly, like you were expecting the question. a reply made with no hesitation, almost as if there was no thought behind it at all. "the heat,"

"and me?" you've known kun long enough to be familiar with the slight tremble in the inflection of his voice, the way his tone darts upwards at the end of his sentences and the nervous swallow between each word. all things present here, all found within two measly syllables--spoken with such an unbridled anticipation that you nearly kiss him tell him then and there (perhaps you're getting overheated, a twin bed is much, much too small).

"honest answer? or a funny one?"

kun pauses, tongue caught between puffy lips as he considers his options. his eyes roll over the details of the ceiling, carefully selecting his vocabulary and drawing out his response for fear of all the wrong words spilling out. words that detail just exactly how much you've occupied his every waking thought, that express in every detail how he's thinking of you right now (a series of sentiments that are in no shape or form anything that just a roommate would feel). "funny, then honest,"

you shrug, shoulders brushing against his own as you offer him a seemingly disinterested countenance--one disrupted only by the slightest, upwards tug at the corner of your lips. "you're tolerable,"

he scoffs, thrusting an accusatory finger in your direction. one that begins with a high velocity only to falter backwards, much to close to nearly poking out your eye. the proximity is unprecedented, intimate, and he finds himself struggling to adjust to it (though he'd like too, get used to it that is--a thought that has the tip of his ears painted a charming shade of crimson). "if i'm tolerable, i can't imagine what ten is to you,"

you laugh and once more, kun finds himself attempting to commit it to memory. there's something different about it here, perhaps the closeness, perhaps the muddied humidity of the weather thats drenched itself over your sickeningly sweet, songbird intonation. or perhaps it's the way he can feel your chest shake with the vibrado of your entertainment or the details of your face (the way your eyelashes stick to your cheek, the crease of your brow, and the soft crescents that tug at the corner of your eyes). "do you really want to know?"

your tone is playful, question poised in between the beginnings of your snickering. a reception originated from the soft snarl on your roommate's lips and the ever-obvious widening of his eyes. an expression all too familiar in the confines of conversation about ten lee. the same ten lee who is a little too sweet on you for kun's liking and whom you seem to favor more than anyone else in your apartment's social circle. the same ten lee who knows this fact drives kun up the wall (and then some) and who uses this to his utter advantage (and amusement).

"no, no, don't tell me," kun corrects (though his dismissal sounds as if it's a hair away from begging) with the click of his tongue and a lazy flick of his wrist, waving off your taunt with no more than a dissatisfied huff, "i don't want to hear it,"

you quirk a brow, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek (another habit that kun is endeared too, one that makes his head spin and his knees feel weak). "afraid it's something good?"

his answer is immediate, an earnest confession made with no equivocation but only the barest bones of irritation (one garnered from the thought of your affection being directed at the cat-like blonde rather than himself ... completely normal for roommates, right?). "yes,"

in every depiction of how this conversation was going to go, you certainly never expected a straightforward, blunt answer from kun. or at least, not one that made your stomach plummet to your knees and your heart beat five times too fast. you might be suffering from a rapidly onset case of heat exhaustion, maybe sun poisoning? one look at his expression--eyes half lidded and brows furrowed to sit upon the slender bridge of his nose--says otherwise.

perhaps it's his own searing honesty (one that makes you feel much hotter than the weather does) or the soft, ardent tone of his reply but you find yourself posing him another question--one framed around a quieter, more tender lilt. "well do you want your honest answer?"

"as long as it's better than ten's,"

in any other scenario, you would jump at the chance to tease him. to hold his schoolboy-esque jealously over his head in a light-hearted triumph. to bring it up in any and every further conversation, only for the sake of pricking at his pride and to earn nothing but taunting grins and laughter from yourself. but when you try, when the words lay on the tip of your tongue ready to be spat out with a dizzying purr, you find yourself unable to find them. or say them. or anything with the way he's looking at you. an expression that screams impatience and an adoration that goes straight to your head--dizzying you to a degree of nausea (or butterflies fluttering against the walls of your stomach, the more likely yet less inclined explanation).

"i think you're my favorite,"

kun blinks slowly at you, tilting his head on his shoulder to get a better look, to determine if you were teasing (an outcome he dreads more than honesty). there's a smile toying at the edges of his lips, pulling up into a softened, tired grin. black eyelashes fawn against his cheeks, strands of platinum blonde falling before his eyes as he speaks. "your favorite what? roommate? because you only have on--"

"everything,"

you think you can pinpoint the exact moment when his breathe catches in his throat, a short-lived, choked sputter of a response that drags both him and you into an underlying, all consuming silence. one interwoven with the trill of the cicadas and the trembling, spontaneous steps of the curtains, locked in an undying trot with the july breeze.

"it's hot,"

you huff. "i've been saying that,"

he shifts, dropping his hand from his face to rest upon yours. it's a movement made with no indecision, no pause or procrastination. a gentle, delicate endearment emphasized by the threading of his fingers between your own. kun's words are quiet, a clarifying correction that only serves to worsen the flustered state of his countenance. "i feel hot,"

"yeah," you return, squeezing his hand against your own, "me too,"

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @firstdonutllamafarm @222brainrot @scinclaitnoir @yangasm thank you for all your support and love! ♡

🗯️ if there are ever two things i am absolutely obsessed over and crushed by, it's kun and summer. the latter of which everyone on this account is about to be made painfully aware of with the 10+ timestamp works in progress in my drafts that are all summer centered. i'm so endeared to kun, i am just so fond of him (·•᷄∩•᷅ ) so i hope that (and the sweetness of the mundane) was conveyed well here. this was also supposed to be no more than a couple hundred words ... but it's practically a short form (ง ͠ಥ_ಥ)ง i got a little overtaken by it ...

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00127am · 5 months

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"it's a wonder how you don't have girls falling at your feet," "i have you,"

@ notyourmalelead top of his class, hallway crush kim doyoung isn't very interested in his semester long partnership with sailor moon obsessed, popular vlogger: you. until your larger than life crush on him is revealed. then he's much more interested in proving that he's not your male lead (and subsequently wishing he was).

@ information [🦀] class president! kim doyoung & afab! vlogger! reader genre smau, fluff, comedy, uni au, enemies to lovers, crush at first sight, mutual pining, lots of sailor moon references warnings dark humor (kys jokes), sexual humor/innuendos, cursing status updates every monday and friday @ 9AM ⤷ taglist always open!

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follow others like this! playlists. yn ⟢ doyoung profiles. taeilenators ⟢ doyoung fan club ⟢ assorted

user notyourmalelead's posts C01. pretty sailor soldier meets her tuxedo mask C02. practically dating (give or take) C03. get an inch take a mile C04. chiba marmoru! or not... C05. in defense of usagi tsukino ⟢ new years special C06. on the dark side of the (sailor) moon C07. one step forward ten steps back C08. coming soon!

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00127am · 2 months

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TAPE ONE. tokuno yushi & gn! reader RUN TIME. 1K words

2OO4. 勇志

"you look pretty,"

the chatter of passing people from beneath your open window nearly consumes each syllable of his compliment, tone much too soft to be deciphered through the hustle and bustle of the city. a noise partnered with the all too familiar serenade of cicadas and the steady stop and go of traffic. the life all around you so loud that yushi, in all his gentle and tender words, is almost forgotten. washed away with the sudden strike of high tide, only to be resurrected by the lull in the surf and your significantly fine tuned hearing.

"yeah?" a question poised in the undertaking of an action as you pull your shirt from over your head, collar getting stuck on the angle of your chin. a problem solved as quickly as it had arisen with one harsh tug until the article of clothing is tossed absentmindedly onto the bed behind you.

he swallows softly, eyelashes fawning against his cheeks as his head tilts upon his shoulder. catlike eyes follow the curves of your naked spine, tracing over every muscle, every beauty mark, every imperfection and division. his answer is one made without thought, an immediate response that even he finds to be said much too instantaneously. "yeah,"

"thank you," you unbutton your jeans, shaking them off the bone of your hips with a few light steps and a yank at your beltloops. balancing on one foot as you slide them down your legs, kicking them off with a rightward snap of your ankle.

"have i ever told you that?"

you crouch down to one of your wardrobe drawers, sliding it open in a single, fluid motion. tongue caught in between your teeth as you sift through the clothing, fingertips slipping over the folded fabric once, twice, then three times over until you've successfully found the bottoms you've been searching for. "that i'm pretty?"

he nods, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you stand to your full height. a motion undertaken with little thought, one that he realizes you did not catch with the continued silence on your part. so instead, he offers you a hum of affirmation. one which stands out from the noise of your backdrop, a sound much too sweet too blend into anything else.

you pause, thinking for a moment before tugging on your pants. brows furrowed and nose scrunched as you button them, slender fingers dropping to the zipper. despite the thorough mundanity of the action, your red-haired counterpart gazes upon you as if you were dancing a pirouette la seconde. though, he supposes that he would watch paint dry if you were the one who had put it there. "i'm not sure,"

"well i do," he says, lips parted and tongue caught gently between them, expression tensed as if it were a matter of life or death, "think you're pretty, i mean,"

you laugh, eyes flicking upwards to meet his gaze. eyelashes upon eyebrows, the upwards curve of your lips obscured by the angle of your chin. your inflection is genuine, earnest. "so are you,"

despite the warmth which spreads throughout his chest at the register of your reply, your words are anything but. they're cool. refreshing and short-lived, like a breeze in the unrelenting gaze of the summer sun. one he wished would lay upon his skin for even a second longer, yearning for the chill which lays upon his spine and the sigh of relief which escapes his tongue.

swallowed in the heatwave of june, you're the only one who could make yushi freeze. and perhaps that's why his next words slip off his tongue with such ease, such an unconsciousness that he barely registers that he was the one who said them.

"i was in love with you last year,"

if you were at all startled by the sudden admission, you didn't show it. instead busying yourself with adorning your top chosen just a few moments prior. you're focused on straightening your shirt, attention unfocused on the boy in front of you. and for once, yushi's glad to not hold every ounce of your consideration. for if he did, if he was met by your gaze (the one which makes his heart drop to his knees) then he's positive he might explode.

your tone is nonchalant, an underlying hint of amusement evident in the ending intonation of your vowels. "really? did my failing grade in economics charm you?"

he shrugs, attempting to keep his tone every bit as casual as yours (it doesn't work, in fact, he sounds too much like a schoolboy with a crush for his replies to be considered anything but lovesick). "a bit,"

"glad it did something," you laugh, finally picking up your head to meet his gaze. a movement which encourages the sudden flight of a million and one butterflies, battering and banging against the walls of his stomach and sending his cheeks burning a shade of red most akin to his hair. "but now?"

yushi clears his throat, a last ditch effort for any sliver of composure (one which reaps no rewards). "what about now?"

arching your brow, you shoot him a incredulous look. as if what you were referring too was all but obvious (it was, but he's trying so desperately hard to wear an aloof facade despite the feeling of it unraveling with each and every glance in your direction). "you said last year. was in love. past tense,"

your words are spoken with a hint of haughtiness, a puffed up pride which sits upon your head like a golden crown. as if you had just gotten him to admit something you already knew and won the cat-and-mouse game which the two of you have been rattling between for the last year and a half. something that for all intents and purposes, you had. a trend which he was all but reluctant to continue. an unwillingness that lasts for just a fraction of a second. he huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in a show of faux annoyance. "i'm not giving you the satisfaction of using present tense,"

"but you would use it?"

"yeah," like the initial confession, the answer comes easy. slipping down from upon the tip of his tongue as smooth as honey. pooling in the roar of your heartbeat and resting upon the crimson blush of his cheeks. yushi's words are spoken with such an ease, such a natural lilt as if they are the only things in the world which he was ever meant to attest. "i would,"

return to the vhs collection

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00127am · 2 months

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signed with love and forever yours, mark

postage. lee mark & gn! reader, mentions of death in the context of greek mythos cost to ship. 712 words

growing up, i never understood the tragedy of orpheus and eurydice. how, upon achieving the opportunity to bring back his beloved, orpheus squandered it all with a single look. it frustrated me, that after all that effort--every song he had written and preformed, compositions which moved all, even gods-- he abandoned all success with a single glimpse backwards. a second of a stare that only captured the whisper of eurydice's figure before she was dragged back to the depths of the underworld. i never understood why he looked back, why he had to fail when he was so close to the edge of triumph.

though i suppose that after meeting you, if i took the place of poor orpheus and you, my eurydice, i'm afraid that i would also lose you for a second time. that i would risk everything i had worked towards, everything that i had done just to see your face in that fraction of a second. to look at you, no matter the consequences. no matter what what i had sacrificed to get to you, no matter if i too would be punished for this singular stare. i would do so, even so close to escape, so close to having you in my arms again without a moment of hesitation. i, not only as orpheus but as mark--your mark--would do anything to spare even the slightest of glances in your direction. even if they would only forfeit half of a second of being captured in the reflection of your eyes and nothing more. for that half of a second, that split sliver in time, would be worth more to me than any hours of gazing upon anything else.

i find us to be more likened to paris and helen of troy. a story i've always understood, at any and all basic fundamentals of its core, though doubted. for how could anyone be so beautiful that others would begin wars over them? that their beauty would be more fair, more compelling than that of the gods? that men would be reduced to nothing more than spurned infatuation, fighting battles--killing-- for any brief moment spent within helen's gaze.

i wasn't sure that any such person could exist. but with you, i find myself to be playing the part of poor paris--destined, perhaps, to starting wars over the mere thought of you.

about mark's love letters.

mark's handwriting is rough and scribbled. oftentimes jotted down with whatever pen he has lying around, series of swirls and scratches at the top margins of the page where he attempts to get the ink to flow. his words, in a stark difference to the somewhat chaotic state of his slanted, all-caps writing, are carefully chosen. hand-picked with the utmost care, the upmost emphasis to ensure the quickening of your heartbeat. though short, his letters are poetic and always very true to himself. you can almost picture the look on his face when he writes them, a fantasy that does nothing but conjure heat into the full of your cheeks.

he first writes these down in his notes app of all places. thumbs frantically typing with every out of the blue strike of inspiration (something that happens rather often, both for songs and for you, though mark could argue that these two things are nearly synonymous). and when he does get the time (something he seems to be always running out of) he transfers these pretty proses to the whitened canvas of card stock. a firm choice, made to last. each one of his letters are signed with less-than-perfect stars and a drawing of whichever thing has recently caught of your fancy (usually him).

mark often sends them in the mail to you but prefers to give his letters to you in person. something he often finds himself regretting when you choose to read them outloud, burying his face in his hands as he begs you to stop. you don't and mark often finds himself begrudgingly thinking that you're much too like haechan for your own good (or his). it's not all bad though, not when the reward for withstanding such utter humiliation on his part is all of your affection. and mark would take anything in the world if it met just receiving one shred of your heart.

your mailbox

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