a marionette with a ribboned heart

mass posting drafts ♡

just a favour

heeseung finds it ridiculous— mind-boggling, actually; and it’d all be written over his features, from the furrow of his brows, to the narrowing of his pretty eyes, to his lips, tightly pressed into a thin line in an attempt to bite back the gnawing scoff by the back of his throat. “sunghoon’s number?”, he repeats, the edge in his tone blatantly evident.

and when you spare a small nod, an expectant smile gracing your lips, he’d only lean back against the kitchen island behind, arms lightly crossing across the broadness of his chest, head tilting back ever so slightly, almost as though studying the situation.

“why would you need his number?”, follows shortly afterwards, the words laced with an oddly underlying sharpness that’s telling of his distaste towards the whole idea.

“don’t know.. i think he’s pretty cute— you wouldn’t mind setting something up for your friend here, would you?” you reply, lips now curving up into a little grin, almost far too oblivious to the lack of enthusiasm radiating from the man before you.

a dry, almost disbelieving, laugh fills the air, and the sound alone prompts you to continue, lips parting to voice another word of conviction— “c’mon.. it won’t take long; just a tiny favour. promise, that’s all i’ll ask from you”. and it kills heeseung, just how unaware you are of the heightened tension, the heaviness of the atmosphere crowding the expanse of the kitchen, practically reducing the open area to a suffocating box.

“you’re too good for him”, he mumbles under his breath, head lightly shaking as though to wave off the suggestion, feet already dragging against the wooden floorboard of the ground as he averts his attention elsewhere, putting an end to, what appeared to be, a promising conversation.

and yet, you’d continue to pry him for those few digits, fingers relentlessly curled around the rectangular device in hand, not at all noticing the way his voice would drop an octave lower, a clear indication of his disinterest, or the way his jaw would tighten, muscles flexing subtly to maintain his composure— why is it that everyone, but you, can see the way he cherishes you, the way he feels for you?

thinking about boyfriend sunghoon, who has the tendency to be silently clingy when jealous; there’s no mumble of protest, no disgruntled groan about how the man before you practically throws himself at your feet— instead, you find your head tilting downwards, eyes landing on the way sunghoon had wrapped his arm around your figure, pulling you taut to his side.

and he wouldn’t invite himself into the conversation either, his veiny hand simply resting heavy against your body, his slender fingers resorting to thrum lightly on your clothed waist. albeit not a word would slip past his lips, his body language would scream it loud enough for anyone paying attention— the way he’d lean obnoxiously close to you, cologne practically invading your senses; the way his hand would stay glued to the side of your body, never shifting away; the way his jaw would tighten, the faintest twitch of muscle betraying his perceived composure.

thinking about drunken confessions with heeseung; the small room would be starkly quiet, as opposed to the chaos of the party just beyond the door, the faint hum of bass vibrating through the walls. with the weight of heeseung leaning heavily against your body, his taller frame swaying slightly with every advancing step towards the edge of the empty bed, you’d silently groan in an attempt to support his sluggish form for any longer. he looked, quite literally, like a mess— his hair was distraught, falling over his eyes, his cheeks were flushed a hue of pink, the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead catching the dim light of the ceiling lamp above.

once close enough, he’d silently collapse onto the edge of the mattress, his legs giving way, as his head tilts back, a breathless laugh slipping past his lips”. y’know.. you’re so, so pretty”, he’d slur, his words slow and heavy; his gaze would avert to your direction, eyes half-lidded, lightly dark and glazed, with just something raw behind that pretty glimmer.

“you’re drunk, hee.. you don’t know what you’re saying”, you’d brush it off, trying to make it appear as though you’ve busied yourself, attention being directed to the bedside drawer, your fingers latching around the knob in search of a spare towel lying around; “no, i do”, he’d only insist, voice rising slightly as he leans forward, his hand reaching out to clumsily rest over your own— and he’d voice out the softest, “i love you, yn”.

and just for a moment, you’d freeze, your breath catching in your throat, as you tear your gaze away from the wooden tabletop, now looking properly at his face. his face— it’d be so close, his features now softened by the alcohol, but still as beautiful as ever.

and for another moment, you wouldn’t be able to will yourself to speak; it’s as though every working mechanism in your brain has forced itself to shut down, your train of thought rudely cut off— and so, you simply stare at him, eyes lightly widened.

“you’re just saying that because you’re drunk”, you’d mumble out; it wouldn’t take long for you to try and pull your hand away, only for his hold to tighten— not forceful, but firm.

“i may be drunk, yeah”, his voice would drop to a low murmur; “but i’m not that drunk. i know what i’m saying, and i know how i feel— i love you”.

and he’d be impossibly close, his forehead just merely millimetres away from your own, his breath warm against your heated skin; your head spins simply from the faint smell of alcohol, mixed with his cologne. you wish to say something, to respond to the suddenness of it all, but before you could even start, he’d lean in, his lips barely brushing against the shell of your ear— “tell me i’m wrong; tell me you don’t feel it too, yn”.

but you can’t, and you’re not sure why; you, oddly, can’t bring yourself to do so, especially not when you’re taking in the way his pretty lips part in anticipation, the way the apple of his cheeks appear to have reddened from minutes ago, or the way his gaze never drifts from you— maybe, just maybe, those feelings are more mutual than you thought.

thinking about girl-dad heeseung; he’d always be so full of love for you both; would steal every, and any, opportunity to engulf the two of you in a tight-knitted hug, little pecks being littered over the swell of your daughter’s smaller face, and an equal amount of attention being devoted to you, as a longing kiss finds itself planted on your lips— has to compose every fibre of his body from breaking into cuteness aggression at the mere sight before him.

he’d relish in the simple things; his little princess sat right in the middle of your bodies, almost sandwiched, as he reaches an arm to wrap over your shoulder, pulling you both impossibly close to his side. he would have the biggest, most precious smile adorned on his lips, despite the lack of conversation— the sound of your shared giggles filling the empty air is all he needs.

he’d melt into a puddle at the sheer thought of being away from you two; always being eager to check the time plastered above his lockscreen, eyes occasionally flitting to the watch strapped around his wrist; is always talking about his pretty girls, no matter the topic— and he’d be so incredibly proud of the little family he’s been blessed with, a toothy grin gracing his features.

thinking about best friend jake, who has a full-time career as a rising boxer; he’d be sat before you, your body standing between his thighs, an antiseptic cream clutched in one of your hands, a roll of bandage in the other. there’d be a hiss slipping past his bruised lip at the brief contact of the medication against the open wound embellished on his right cheek— “you’re going to be the death of me one day, sim”, you’d mumble under your breath, bottom lip escaping the nibble of your teeth for a fleeting moment.

he’d merely offer a soft chuckle, voice gruff and resonant; “i won though, didn’t i, baby?” he’d say, gaze shamelessly latched onto your face, drinking in your pretty features, a hazy smile plastered over his mouth. your hand would pause mid-air, fingertips hovering over the surface of his skin, a small frown decorating your lips— “not funny”, you’d coo, only to be met with his pretty laugh.

thinking about husband jay, who’d be so incredibly sweet and doting towards you— especially tenfold, when you’d be pregnant.

for instance, he’d notice you bending down to grab a fallen bag, a hand resting on your lower back for some form of support, the other reaching forward in an attempt to pick the tote, fingers barely brushing the strap. and albeit you’d try to conceal the twinge of discomfort jabbing at your side, the shift in weight sending waves of pain along tender points of your body, it’d all be crystal-clear in his eyes. “babe, no— let me get that”, he’d voice out, his hands already empty, the items he’d been carrying long abandoned by his feet.

and when you’d straighten your body ever so slowly, a hand instinctively resting on the curve of your belly, you’d mumble a small word of protest, “it’s just a bag, jay— i’m not made of glass..”; and he’d already be crouching beside you, his fingers closing around the strap before you have a chance to reason further. “i know you’re not— but you’re carrying our kid, and i’m carrying the bag. that’s the deal, baby”.

a soft sigh would slip past your lips, but there would be no actual frustration coating it; “you know i can handle things on my own, right?”

he’d silently swing the strap of the tote bag over his shoulder, a hand busy holding up the rest of the grocery haul, the other brushing ever so gently against your own; “i know; but you don’t have to, not with me”.

when you try to distract them with a kiss

heeseung would only flash a small smile, finding it adorable how you’d tried to distract him from the giant bouquet hiding by the side of the table, your lips pressing a quick peck to the swell of his cheeks, having to tiptoe ever so slightly to temporarily match his height; “are you sure that’s noth—“ and he’d be cut off with a kiss to his pretty lips, your head shaking immediately afterwards; he may or may not continually ask you for an answer, finding it endearing how you’d plant a kiss onto his lips whenever the words would slip past his mouth…

jay would be met with genuine confusion for a split second— he’d sworn that he’d seen two ginormous balloons cooped up in the cupboard, and who better to ask than you? and the moment that the question would fall from his lips, he’d find himself being peppered with kisses, his following sentence being interrupted by another peck; “woah woah.. what’s going on, babe?” he’d ask, receiving a little shrug in return, a small grin plastered on your face…

jake wouldn’t even register it as anything unusual; he’d casually ask about the little traces of crafts, and the very prettily-made card lying on your tabletop, not finding it strange how you’d rush towards his embrace, pressing a long kiss onto his lips to cut his words off; simply kisses you back, because realistically, he wouldn’t be able to resist your pretty lips. “ah right, about that card—“, and he’d be silenced with another peck; would be a little puzzled, asking a similar question only moments later…

sunghoon would realise your little ‘tactic’ almost immediately, finding it strange how you’d been so alarmed by the mere mention of a ‘bouquet of roses’— would honestly ask out of pure curiosity, not expecting you to press the longest kiss onto his cheek, lip-tint leaving a light kiss mark on his skin; and when he’d ask again, only to receive a similar response, he’d be struck with an endearing moment of realisation— “okay, okay.. i won’t ask anymore, baby”, he’d coo, a soft laugh slipping past his lips…

sunoo would be a little taken-aback; when he’d ask about the mysteriously packaged gift lying by the side of your desk, he’d be interrupted by a peck, the dragged ‘mwah’ cutting him off mid-question; only stares at you with lightly widened eyes, lips slightly parted in surprise. “woah.. what’s with the occasion, love?” he’d softly ask, seeing the light shake of your head, and the cross of your arms across your chest— asks about the present a mere few moments later, heart thumping with genuine curiosity, and from the sudden, yet not unwelcome, kiss…

jungwon would, intentionally, ask about the present by the bedside, over and over again, discreetly wanting to get more kisses and attention from you; “what’s that?” he’d ask for the first time, being answered with a short peck on the lips; “is that for me?” he’d ask a few moments later, lightly smiling against the kiss this time around— finds it endearing when you pout in light annoyance, brows digging into your skin as you cross your arms; “okay, okay.. i’ll stop”, he’d coo, softly laughing when you whip your head to the side, bottom lip jutting out sulkily…

riki would be speechless, the definition of being at a ‘loss for words’; would casually stroll into the living room with a prettily-wrapped gift, head lightly tilting as the words “what’s this, love?” slip past his lips— hadn’t expected to be met with a kiss on the lips, the present swiftly being swiped from his grip, and hidden behind your back; he’d meet your eyes with parted lips, light confusion hazing his gaze. “there’s a.. erm.. spider! behind you!” you’d hurriedly choke out, taking the turn of his head as an opportunity to scurry off, concealing the present at a better hiding spot…

thinking about boyfriend sunghoon who’d be so incredibly eager to tag along during your shopping trips; it wouldn’t be out of some obligation, or a half-hearted attempt to be a ‘good boyfriend’— no, he genuinely seemed to enjoy it, which struck you as both baffling and endearing initially.

the first time he’d offered the back of his hand for you to swatch the plethora of lip products clutched in your hold, you simply offered the cock of your head, watching with the shadow of a perplexed frown, as he held his hand out, palm down, his expression borderline adorable, almost as though contorted in light anticipation. “you’re really okay with this?”, you’d sounded, glancing back to meet his eyes. he only shrugged, a small smile gracing his lips, “why not? besides, how else are you going to figure out which one’s the prettiest without a little help?”; he’d walked out of the store that day, the back of his hand adorned with a variety of vibrant stripes— a few lip tints, glosses, and even a few blushes— and a pretty grin.

he’d always offer to carry your shopping bags, no matter how many there might be; even when you’d insist that you could handle it, he’d gently take them from you, his fingers brushing against your own in such a soft manner— “i’ve got it”, he’d mumble, the certainty in his tone leaving no room for protests.

he wouldn’t complain either, no matter how long you might need; he’d simply wait outside the fitting room, scrolling through his phone ever so patiently— and when you’d emerge from the confines of the cubicle, dawning the prettiest of dresses, he’d tuck all distractions away, a boyish grin decorating his features. “this is the one”, he’d hum, gaze coated in a sheen of lovesickness.

thinking about husband heeseung, who has this insanely attractive habit of loosening his tie; it’d be the most minute of things, the action so seemingly simple, it’d pass off as casual for anyone else— but there’s just something so mesmeric about it.

after an arduous day at work, he’d trudge into the house, chocolate-brown hair lightly tousled from him raking a hand through his locks, the top button of his dress shirt undone, revealing a silver of his honeyed skin; and when he’d reach a veiny hand up to the band of his tie, tugging on the fabric ever so slightly as it hangs a lot more loosely around his neck, you’d feel your whole world freeze in place.

and when he’d engulf you in a hug, his cologne filling your senses with hints of musk, you’d only feel your heartbeat quicken. “i’m exhausted, but seeing you makes it all worth”, would leave his lips, voice lightly gruff, yet carrying such a soft undertone towards you; and that would only have the swell of your cheeks reddening further— and that’s all because of his stupidly charming habit.

thinking about boyfriend jungwon; it’d be such a minute and simple action— him zipping up the back of your dress— and yet it’d have a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering about the pit of your stomach.

“let me”, he’d mumble softly, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your back, the touch being feather-light, almost gingerly; his fingers would find the metal of the zipper, the cool material sliding upward, inch by inch, his knuckles lightly brushing against your spine in a way that made your heart thump.

he’d be so close— so close, you could practically feel the warmth of his chest against your back, despite the small distance between your bodies. and as you’d glance up, eyes meeting the mirror before you, you’d notice the look plastered across his face— his plump lips would be slightly parted in concentration, his hair falling softly over his forehead, ending by his pretty eyes.

“there”, he’d say, his voice barely above a whisper, as he fastens the clasp at the top of the zipper; instead of stepping back, however, his hands would linger over the curve of your shoulders, his thumbs tracing small, absentminded circles against your skin, which now burns ever so slightly with the warmth emanating from his touch.

“you look..” he’d start, before pausing, as if to search for the right words; “you look beautiful, baby”— and his voice would be so sincere and soft, it’d make your heart ache.

thinking about girl-dad jake; he’d be the type to watch heaps of tutorials, just to learn how to braid and style his pretty baby’s hair— would purchase the littlest of hair clips and ribbons, a lovesick smile embellished onto his lips as he sticks another accessory onto her head of hair.

he’d be so doting towards her; always tucking her into bed, a hand raising to gently swipe a stray strand of hair behind her small ear, the soft melody of a nursery rhyme falling from his mouth; would always fail to say ‘no’, especially to her beady pair of eyes— she’d be a little carbon copy of him, pretty, cheery gaze staring right back up at him; would never shy away from her requests, from painting his fingernails, to letting her messily paint on some toy-store makeup onto his features.

“no, no— i miss you more, princess”, he’d coo, almost melting at the way she’d mirror his tone, lightly jumping in place as she squeaks a small, “no, i do!”; he’d wind up giving into her little giggles, and that endearingly persistent nature of her voice— a trait that’s almost telling of a sim— peppering her smaller face with tons of kisses.

when you want to do the ribbon trend

heeseung would have the smuggest look smothered all over his features; it’s as though it’d be a telltale hint as to why his pretty girl would be skipping towards the living room, a roll of pink satin ribbon in hand; and immediately after you’d ask him for his permission to tie little pretty ribbons around his biceps, he’d respond with a playful “you don’t even have to ask, love”; would intentionally flex his muscles whilst you’d be tying them, wanting to show off a little— and perhaps earn a compliment or two…

jay would be a little amused; had he ever seen this trend before? never. is he bothered by it? absolutely not— especially not with the glint in your gaze, the way you excitedly explain the concept of the short video to him has his heart melting, hesitance dissipating into thin vapour; “just let me know what to do, yeah?” he’d say, sitting still and patient as you tie the pink ribbons around his biceps— would flush ever so slightly when you tie one around a bundle of hair, the bow sitting pretty atop his head…

jake would, initially, be a little confused, but he’d simply follow along, not wanting to defuse that euphoric tint to your eyes; once he’d gotten more or less of the trend, he’d fully bask in it— “are you sure that one’s straight? looks a little wonky from where i am”, he’d comment under his breath, a cheeky smile playing on his lips as you lean in once more, re-tying the satin ribbon around his bicep— it’s just a silly excuse for you to do it again; would wind up leaning close to press a kiss on your lips, heart thumping with adoration, the video stopping its recording a second or two later…

sunghoon would, surprisingly, be a little menace, and find new ways to fluster you; the whole concept of the trend already has him drowning in a puddle of excitement. would wind up being a little trend-inventor, suggesting new takes; “how about you leave a pretty kiss mark on my cheek, that way it’ll highlight the whole ribbon thing”— that’s.. not exactly correlated; “how about i tie some in your hair too? that way we’ll match”— you’re sure that he’s forgotten the main idea of the trend; regardless, you let him do as he suggests with a small, exasperated smile, given that he’s so enthusiastic about the whole video…

sunoo would be adorably eager about the whole idea; a millisecond after explaining the concept of the video to him, he’d find himself sprinting to the room, already grabbing the roll of satin ribbon for you— “i’m ready, baby”, he’d chirp, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his biceps; you’d have to contain the growing blush across your cheeks from his directness, paired with the urge to giggle at how enthusiastic he was being…

jungwon would tease you on end; “gosh, if you wanted an excuse to gawk at my biceps, you could’ve just said so, baby”, he’d cheekily sing, rolling up the short sleeves of his shirt to show his toned bicep— would intentionally flex his muscles, finding the bashful clear of your throat, and the pink hue to your cheeks, adorable; “it’s the prettiest thing ever, love. thank you”, he’d giggle, gazing up to meet your twinkling eyes…

riki would be flustered beyond the capacity of words; would cock his head to the side, brows furrowing as a soft “huh?” slips past his lips— wouldn’t get it even after the second time of explanation; simply follows what you say, gazing at you with light confusion as you tie a pretty ribbon around his biceps. “i still don’t get it.. but i guess it looks nice”, he’d mumble, fingers lightly fiddling with the ends of the satin; without a doubt, he’d lie in bed the following night, scrolling through social media for more couple trends…

park sunghoon adores your acne; they may be your biggest insecurity, but he finds them pretty in their own unique way— they make you real, make you human, and he finds that endearing.

when he spots you sitting by your vanity, face tilted towards the mirror, fingers brushing over the small, stubborn bumps that dot your skin, concealer in hand, he acknowledges that that’s the thing running through your mind.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply studying your face— the way the light catches your eyes, the way your pimples would peek through the previous layer of makeup applied. he’d reach up, his thumb brushing over a spot you’d missed, a small blemish near your jawline; “you don’t need this”, he’d mumble— “you’re pretty.. just the way you are, baby.. so please, don’t think otherwise about yourself”.

thinking about boyfriend jake, and how he habitually bites his lips; there’s just something about the way he’d catch his lower lip between his teeth, often when he’s deep in thought, or trying to suppress a small smile, that’d have your stomach flipping, every single time. it’s lightly intoxicating, yet confusing— the way your mind would flit between how endearing he’d look, expression pursed in adorable focus, and how you’d simply want to kiss him, until he, perhaps, forgets how to think at all.

he isn’t oblivious; he notices the way your gaze would shamelessly fixate on him, eyes never tearing away from the manner at which his teeth would graze the plush curve of his bottom lip— he notices the way the swell of your cheeks would redden ever so slightly at the sight of his jaw tightening with every moment he’d bite down, his lips appearing a little pinker.

“you’re staring”, he’d state, the tone of his voice a reflection of the little grin decorating his features; you’d open your mouth to protest, but before you’re even able to say anything, he’d do it once more, and your resolve would simply crumble. “okay, okay— it’s just.. you do this thing with your lip, and it’s… distracting, i guess”, you’d awkwardly mumble, only to be met with his widened grin, tone border-lining teasing, as he speaks— “so.. what you’re trying to tell me, is that.. you like it?”

personal space

sunghoon has always been a, ‘my personal space’, kind of guy. he’d valued distance above all; to have things neat, predictable, and entirely his own. his room was no exception either; every book was in its shelf, every pen properly stored away, every item in its rightful place— until he met you.

you always sat a little too close to him during lunch, your elbow practically nudging his own, as you reach out to nab a few side dishes on his tray; you always leaned over his shoulder during study lessons, your hair gently brushing his arm as you point out his careless errors— you even showed up to his house announced at times, claiming that you needed someplace quiet to think; or rather, to fill some of his silence with your endless rambling.

but the odd thing was, he didn’t mind; in fact, he started to crave it. his room, once a shrine of order, was now dotted with little reminders of you— a hair tie haphazardly discarded on his desk, a sweatshirt of yours draped over his chair, and a few paper origami pieces by his bedside drawer; it was more like ‘our’ personal space.

and now he wonders; when did his, strictly, ten-foot radius shrink into five, then two, then none at all?

sim jaeyun adores your stretch marks; he never quite understood your growing hatred towards those delicate lines mapping the area of your thighs, your stomach. to him, they’re like pretty brushstrokes on a canvas— to you, they’re reminders of change, of things you can’t control.

when he sees you perched on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, knees pulled close to your chest, he knows something’s wrong— and so, he asks softly, “what’s going on in that little head of yours?”

“it’s my stretch marks.. they’re ugly.. and i feel so.. broken”, and it’s without fail that a frown graces his features, his hands resting on the bare surface of your thighs, his touch warm. “you’re not broken, baby.. you’re gorgeous— these”, he traces one of the lines with his fingertips, “these are just proof that you’ve lived, that you’ve grown— and i find that beautiful”.