Mark would stop on the side of the road if he saw a patch of flowers and thought they were pretty. He would pluck them up himself for you. Whenever he saw pretty flowers either walking around or driving, he would stop and pick some for you like its a natural instinct. Rarely do the flowers get back to you in good shape or even at all. He forgets they’re delicate little things and he would stuff them in his pockets or his bag. Next time he wears that item again he’ll find dried up petals in the pockets and send you a picture of them. If he does remember to give them to you, they’ll be wilted and bent. He would never actually buy you flowers, the thought never really crossed his mind to do so. But if this man is absolutely head over heels in love with you, he will be thinking of you a lot and pretty flowers remind him of his pretty girl. He isn’t even trying to be extra sweet and cute, it literally is just him.
Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive [idol!mark, idol!y/n, exes to lovers]
Length: 6k
Warnings: mentions of sex
beta reader: @theonlysoph
. . .
Nights like these have always been your favorite. Nights where time flies so quickly you get whiplash every time you sneak a glance at your phone. Nights where you and Mark are simply extensions of one another, neither letting the other get too far away from the others’ touch. Nights where you feel so relaxed you’d be fair in assuming someone slipped something into your drink.
Tonight, though, as you lay horizontal on the edge of the hotel bed as Mark sits and plays with your hair that’s splayed across his lap, you don’t feel all of those wonderful feelings
It’s dumb, you think, so very dumb. You and Mark did things right. You informed your companies and your managers, you got approval to see each other before anything started. When your company gave you the ultimatum, get caught and break up, you and Mark took it very very seriously. So you and Mark never stepped foot outside together, and arrived at the hotel, your regular hotel, hours apart from each other. Your managers made sure the hotel staff signed NDA’s. When you visited his family in Canada, you posted on Instagram geotagging Seoul and changed your hair color. When your group won the rookie of the year award, Mark clapped politely despite how badly he wanted to shout in pride for you.
You did it all right. But now, it’s all falling down.
Two hours ago, right as you were checking into the hotel room, you got a text from your manager.
Manager: call me now.
It brought shivers up your spine, as she’s never been so forward with you, always preferring to send texts, or at least give you an agenda for the phone call she would have with you. It only takes her 2 rings to answer as you stand in the hotel elevator, pressing the same 14th floor button you press every week.
“Are you alone?” She says, and you swallow, answering her with a whispered yes.
“Ok, listen to me, we just got a tip from Dispatch–” and your heart sinks, you know what’s coming.
“Yeah?” You say, as the elevator door opens up.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing they’ll say or do to negotiate with us, they just told us so we could prepare early–” She rambles on, and you notice your hands are shaking as you insert your key card into the slot.
“Get on with it.” You say, entering the foyer to your suite, the smallest bit of relief washing over you as you see the same old pair of red high top converse by the door as you take your own shoes off.
“You and Mark are being exposed as the Dispatch New Years couple at 1AM.” As much as you knew what was coming, it still took your breath away. Mark exits the bedroom after hearing you enter and pulls you into a hug as you cry, barely paying attention to the instructions your manager is giving you as carefully as she can manage over the phone.
“Can you just– can you text me instead?” You ask, moving your face up from where it was previously pressed against Mark’s shoulder to speak to her. When she hangs up, 2 minutes pass before your phone vibrates twice, indicating an incoming text.You let Mark lead you to lay down on the bed with him.
So now you’re here, all the tears emptied from your eyes to last you a while. You’ve said all you can, every frustrating thought you have about the entire experience, every “We should have–” and “What if we did–” imaginable.
Mark’s been mainly silent, either nodding along to your claims or interjecting to argue with you for a moment. Out of the two of you, you’re the much more emotional one, choosing to vent your feelings to process them instead of thinking them through. Mark knows this in the same way he knows everything else about you like he knows himself, and allows you to have your time. When he does finally speak up and share his mind, you’re surprised by what you hear.
“Do you ever sorta feel, I dunno, temporary?” You get what he means, you feel that way too and that makes you want to cry even more. Especially belonging to a mid-tier girl group. You don’t imagine the public will have much interest in you after you eventually disband and move on. Mark, however, has found much more success than you have. It’s ironic, though, that no matter what, you’ll both feel the same cold emptiness when the spotlight does eventually die out on you, it does for everyone. You hum in affirmation, finding his eyes as his hand stops his movement on your scalp.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Is this worth it then? Yeah, it’s our careers and stuff, but if we’re eventually going to be irrelevant to the public, is it worth throwing us away?” You don’t know what to say, so you just sit up and straddle his waist, lying your hands on his shoulders and looking into your favorite pair of eyes. Sometimes Mark is really difficult to read, as much as he wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s always been the stable one, the rock for both of you, the leader in your relationship. So as vulnerable and honest as he is with you, he has one hell of a poker face. Both of you do, you have to when you work in this industry. Right now, as you sit here, he lets the mask fall for a moment and shows you how scared he is through his eyes. You say nothing still, tucking your body into his and letting him sigh into your neck and squeeze you tight into him. It’s not long before he falls back, taking you with him so you’re laying on top of him. You can’t help but squeal as he falls, giggling before placing a slow kiss on his lips.
“Fuck, I’m going to miss you so much.” He says with sad eyes when you pull away. The implications are strong, you’re well aware of what tonight is.
“Just so you know, there’s no throwing us away. Ever. Even if–” and tears are starting to pool in your waterline, Mark places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb ready to catch your tears and wipe them when they fall again.
“Even if tomorrow is the end of us for a while, I’ll never be done with you.” The tears do fall, just two, and Mark is quick to wipe them away and kiss your cheek in a comforting manner.
You stay like this for the rest of the night, speaking very few words besides a couple sad “I love you”’s while you make love for the last time.
The bell ring notification disturbs you as you lie breathless in the afterglow, head on Mark’s chest listening to his heartbeat fall back to a regular cadence.
“Let’s not check until we post the apology, okay? Stay with me here.” And you don’t know what he’s talking about, but he assumes it’s information his manager shared with him about damage control strategies for your meeting with the companies in less than 5 hours.
“Okay.” You say, nodding and getting up to turn both of your phones off for the night. His arms are wide open, waiting for you to return to him under the covers.
. . . . . .
The next morning there’s no sneaking around like there used to be, leaving the hotel room at the same time as Mark, grabbing his hand as he hands in your keys for check out at the front desk. You walk with your hands intertwined down the street to the SUV waiting for the both of you at the end of the block. If people see and recognize you, neither of you notice as you realize how much you’ve missed out on by having to be so secretive.
“This is sorta nice, that I can finally do this.” He says, squeezing your hand and brings it up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your hand as you walk. That makes you laugh a sad laugh as he opens your car door for you, letting you slide in before he comes in with you.
At the company, sitting in a way too brightly lit conference room for how little sleep you got last night, it hits you and the anger comes back. The room is packed full, your two main managers sit on either side of you, the same for him. The CEO’s to both of your companies sit at the heads of the table, and PR representatives and administrative assistants scatter themselves around.
It’s crazy to you to have such a packed room for something so trivial as dating news. You’re two kids in your early twenties, of course you’re going to date. You surely wouldn’t care if you were a fan, so what’s the fuss? You just want to go back to that hotel room bed, back to before the announcement, back to before all of this. You want to walk away from this meeting with Mark Lee as your boyfriend, as your future husband like he promised he would be a couple of months ago.
Introductions are made, thankfully yours done on your behalf by your manager to your left. Mark puts on his idol face, playing pretend that he’s okay as he politely introduces himself personally to every person in the room, thanking them for their effort to come in on a holiday. You have the energy and the ability to do the same, but you have no desire to put on your own idol face today. Right now you’re a heartbroken woman first, not an idol. Hopefully they understand.
The meeting begins officially and you learn that they planned for you and Mark to post personal handwritten apologies on your instagram pages. You would have known that if you had paid attention earlier. Apparently all has been taken care of already, both of your notes having been written out already. As your manager does a final read through of the apology she wrote for you to your fans, you can’t help but scoff.
Because you’re not sorry for sneaking around behind your fans’ back.
You’re not sorry for going to that hotel restaurant.
Above all, you’re especially not sorry for falling helplessly in love with Mark Lee.
As you find his eyes across the conference room table as his manager begins reading out his own fake handwritten apology, you realize that in this industry love isn’t enough to sustain happiness.
After all, how could you and Mark be happy, if happiness just simply wasn’t meant for you two?
When the meeting ends and the posts are up, you do your best to hold back the tears to save the smallest amount of dignity you have remaining. When the meeting is closed and everyone preps to leave, he says your name from across the table. It kills you to ignore him and leave him hanging in this way, but there’s no point.
“See you around, Mark.” you avoid his eyes and grab his hand, squeezing lightly and letting go. You don’t know what his face looks like, if he looks as disheartened as yours, or if he’s kept his idol facade on. You don’t want to know, Mark Lee isn’t your boyfriend anymore, you aren’t meant to care anymore.
So you go home, lay low for a couple of weeks as you prepare for your new comeback and never ever check your Instagram or search your name on the internet. Your managers bother you to reply to some Bubble messages and interact online, but you can’t bring yourself to open up the opportunity to see what people are saying about you, much preferring to live in ignorance until people eventually forget, just like they always do.
. . . . .
Two years later, you’re still not over Mark. The public has for the most part forgiven you for dating, the entire situation actually proving to be great for publicity, your music video views having skyrocketed, shooting you and your group into one of the top groups in the industry. At every awards show you win at least one esteemed title. You’ve personally become the most popular member, snatching brand deals left and right.
When your group and NCT promote on the same shows, or perform at the same festivals, or walk the same red carpet, you’re too busy to notice or even think about him being there. You still, however, excuse yourself to the restroom every time NCT goes to perform at any of those award shows. If you, even for a moment, allowed yourself to think about how close yet so far he is, you’d begin to spiral. So avoidance and ignorance become your best friends, and you find yourself gaining your own idol face. And you wear that idol face everywhere you go. Even wearing the idol face when you’re in the privacy of your home, and when you’re in meetings with your company assigned therapist. You’re afraid that if you let it slip, allow the hurt to come in, allow the longing for him to make its home in your heart again, you’ll never be able to put that wall back up. So it stays up always, and the pain of your break up and the longing for him.
And suddenly, you’re six years into your contract, having found enough success to buy your own apartment just one block away from the hotel you used to stay at with Mark before your break up 2 years ago. It’s lonely living alone, you realize. Having gone from living with your family, then the trainee dorms, then the dorm with your group.You thought this is what you wanted, but you’re growing to realize you despise having so much empty room.
You hate it, especially when the loneliness becomes just a little bit too tempting one night. The loneliness teetering like a wrecking ball about to slam into the wall of your heart. You almost find yourself dialing Mark’s number when the right side of your bed is just a little bit too cold for your liking, but you stop yourself. Lie to yourself that you don’t miss him. Make the excuse that you made a promise to your company, and another scandal is the last thing you need with contract resigning negotiations around the corner. You’ve lawyered up to argue for a 45% increase in your profit cut on your album sales, if the company finds out you’ve ignored the rules they gave you, you could kiss those profits goodbye. You lie to yourself that one night spent with him would not be worth it to throw that away.
So you don’t text or call him, lying to yourself that you have no desire to for months to come, never allowing the heartbroken tears to slip out of your eyes late at night after an exhausting day, no matter how much you want to. Your best kept secret.
. . .
Everything comes crashing down, your emotional wall and idol face, on a random Tuesday in May.
Your doorbell rings and you open the door to a terrified looking Mark Lee holding a bouquet of pink roses.
“What the fuck?” is all you can let out when you make eye contact with him, your heartbeat quickening to the point it barely feels like you have one anymore.
“Uh, hi. I heard somewhere online that you’re supposed to bring roses to a housewarming. So uh,” He extends his arm to hand the flowers to you, “here ya go, I guess.”
You don’t grab the flowers, still absolutely shocked at the boldness from him. Is this real? Is he really here? You want to pinch yourself awake from this nightmare.
“I’ve lived here for like a year and a half.” is the smart response you have for him, and you feel like you’re about to faint from the way he looks so absolutely desperate.
“Yeah, I know.” How does he know? Who told him? Why is he here?
You continue to stand, shocked and still as you stare at him, mouth agape. The lines between relief, excitement, and terror are all so thin, you’ve never felt more overwhelmed in your life.
“Would you just let me in, Y/N?”
Still just as shocked as before, you step to the side to allow him to brush past you and enter into your apartment. Your apartment. Mark Lee is back, he’s here, he’s in your apartment. He wants to talk to you. You’re going to talk to him.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“So, you probably have a lot of questions, and I’m sorry that I dropped in on you like this out of nowhere.” He said after he was finally seated on your sofa. Standing at the edge of your rug seeing him sit there alone now makes you realize just how big your apartment is, and how lonely it is to be here all alone.
“Yeah.” You say, moving to sit on your coffee table, facing him and bumping your knees together. You haven’t felt this close to him in years and the faint musky smell of his classic cologne is making you dizzy. You missed everything about him, sure, but his scent was one of the hardest things to let go of.
“I just– I missed you.”
“I know.” Because you miss him too, what you had isn’t something you just move on from. It grows with you, but never truly leaves you alone. If there’s anything these 2 years have taught you it’s that.
“I’ve been missing you for such a long time. Like way too long, and I sorta just remembered today that one conversation we had a while ago about marriage, and how I’m not even close to being okay with that not being a part of my future anymore. Like, I want that.” He’s grabbing your hand, and you feel the familiar sting in your nostrils that tell you that you’re beginning to cry. Of course you are. Mark Lee is here. Your Mark Lee is here, confessing his love to you again. It feels like the first time he told you he liked you 4 years ago, the nerves are the same,but the emotions are much stronger now. A really big portion of your heart belongs to him this time, you have huge emotional stock in this conversation.
“I want that so damn bad. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. And I don’t care if I lose my career, my fans, whatever. I want to marry you. I want my future to be you. All of this–” He takes his spare hand and wipes your cheeks, you’re crying again. That’s no surprise to either of you.
“All of this is pointless if I’m not working towards a future I believe in. And this is it, this is the future I believe in. It’s you, Y/N.”
“Holy shit Mark,” you say, leaning forward and slamming your lips together. Words can’t describe how you feel, how kissing him for the first time in years feels like finally getting a deep breath of air after sticking your head under water for too long, how it feels like laying down in a bed with fresh sheets after a long day, returning home after a long work trip away.
“Did you just fucking propose to me?” You say, leaning away to his lovestruck, shining eyes. He’s gripping the sides of your face with an insane grip, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him again.
“I think I did.” He says, laughing to himself. And kissing you on the nose, his own eyes shining with happy tears.
“Oh my God, do you have a ring?” You say, moving to straddle his hips and sit on his lap, hugging him close to you.
“I– fuck– no I don’t. So, forget that the whole marriage proposal thing happened. I didn’t propose.” And you can’t help but laugh at him, throwing your head back enjoying the weight of his arms around your waist for the first time in forever.
He grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his glimmering eyes, “But I will, and I’ll do it soon. And it’ll be perfect, with the biggest diamond you’ve ever seen, and everyone will know. Your fans and mine, the company, whoever, everyone will know. I promise.” You don’t think you could contain the smile painting across your face if you tried, as you nod, kissing him once more.
He pushes your shoulders away lightly to add one more note, “That is, Y/N, if you’ll have me back.” And he looks nervous, like he’s afraid you’d say no. As if you’d ever dream of saying no to him.
“Do you hear yourself, Mark Lee? Of course I’ll have you back, you’ve always been mine.”
. . . . .
The next day, you tell your companies and managers. His company threatens to drop him from the label, and when Mark gives a cavalier response to the threat, they rescind. Your managers aren’t surprised to see your hands intertwined under the table, fighting on both of your behalf to come to an agreement.
A week later, your companies give in to your stubbornness and release the official statements that you’re back together. You disable all instagram comments and DM’s.
A month later, Mark moves into your apartment, and it almost gives you whiplash at just how easy it was to change your sad, lonely apartment into a home. Our home. You’re happy to get to call it that now.
. . . . .
Three years later, both you and Mark have left your groups and your companies officially, both of you resigning with different agencies who offer you much more money and much more freedom. You were able to take your manager with you to the new company, the new company compensating her better as well. Mark remains partially contracted with his old company as a mentor to the new generation of his group, and it feels like he’s finally found his place. It took him 15 years, but he finally found his passion, he finally found his place. You’re extremely proud of his new achievements.
You, on the other hand, have also found your rhythm behind the scenes. You’ve been able to assist your new company in recruiting, training, and preparing to debut a new girl group. These are girls you believe in, who you see a bright future for. You’ve played a heavy hand in their styling, and have begun to play a sort of advocacy role for them, breaking the cycle of unfair and harsh treatment you, your members, and Mark faced when you were in the industry as idols. Unlike Mark, you still make music. It isn’t nearly as successful as your former group’s music. You have yet to have your first win on a music show as a soloist, but you aren’t really bothered. It’s never been about the money or the achievements for you, as much as your former heartbroken self would like to tell you it is. You write your own music now, mainly sappy and slow love songs, and nobody has to question who it’s about or who it’s for. That fact makes you smile every time you get to release something new, which is infrequent. Your girls preparing for their debut take up most of your time. That’s okay with you, though. You care much more about continuing your legacy than holding onto it personally when it’s trying to die.
You and Mark are good now, like really really good. It took you a while, but you finally discovered the sweet spot in your relationship to the public between sharing too much, and being too private. The world knows of your love, but for the most part, what you have with him stays between you and him, and it’s exactly how it should’ve been the entire time.
Sometimes with your schedules, you and Mark pass like ships in the night in your home, both of you constantly running late to some activity for the groups you’re individually taking care of. But neither of you have ever canceled your Thursday night date night, placing your relationship at priority. Both of you figure if you had to fight so hard to have each other it’s not worth it to let it slip away.
Except for this Thursday.
Mark: hey babe. gotta cancel tn.
Mark: jae rolled his ankle really bad, im gonna take him to the hospital.
Mark: im really sorry :(
Mark: but hey! arent ur girls performing show champion tn? u should go!
Mark: sorry, stalked ur work calendar ;P
Mark: but fr, dont wait up for me pls
Mark: get ur rest. i know its been a long week
Mark: love u forever, see u in the morning!!!!!
It stings a little to get that string of text, but you understand wholeheartedly why he’s canceling on you. He’s always had a big heart, but finding a large group of boys to care for has truly brought out that side of him.
Y/N: its okay love
Y/N: ill probably just stay home tho
Y/N: the girls get nervous if i watch them perform sometimes
Y/N: i dont wanna spring that on them last minute
Y/N: tell jae to feel better!
Y/N: ill see u tomorrow morning baby :) love u
Sighing, you remove your heels off your feet, moving to slump on your new sofa and relax for the evening, until your phone buzzes again.
Mark: no u should go
Mark: really
Mark: itll be good to test them
Mark: learned that in my mentorship + leadership class last week
Mark: they need the push
Mark: so just go tonight
Mark: please
That’s odd, you think. Mark has been taking leadership classes, but he’s mainly been criticizing them for being cheesy. Suddenly he’s pressuring you to listen to the advice his class taught him, advice he doesn’t even follow himself?
Y/N: whats going on with u? u hate that class
Mark: i just think it would be good for u to step up
That makes your jaw drop, who is he to say that to you?
Y/N: excuse me? are you saying what i think youre saying?
The text comes in much faster than ever before. Your phone has your full attention as you watch the three dots at the bottom of your screen dance as he types.
Mark: fuck
Mark: no baby
Mark: im sorry that came out wrong
Mark: but just trust me
Mark: go to the performance
Mark: itll be worth it
You heave out a sharp breath as you respond. As much as you love this man, he can be absolutely infuriating sometimes.
Y/N: fine.
Y/N: but were talking about this when u get home
You shut your phone off and slip your shoes back on after sending the last text. It’s confusing, he never acts this way. He’s never insisted on you doing anything ever, always being just a little bit too much of a pushover to your stubbornness. Tonight, apparently, you going to the fifth music show recording this week meant enough to Mark that he borderline insulted your leadership abilities.
So you go, huffing and puffing the entire ride there as you reread the text thread over and over again in the back of your company SUV.
“We’re here, miss.” The driver turns around to inform you. That was short, you think as you thank him and look out the window for the first time tonight.
Except this isn’t the Show Champion service entrance. This is the Han river. Approximately 3 miles in the wrong direction of the studio.
“Sir, I don’t think you took me to the right place.” You say, doing your best to bite back the irritation that threatens to seep through your words. By the time you get to Show Champion and through security, the girls will have already finished their recordings.
On almost perfect timing, the opposite door to you opens on the SUV. You’re shocked to see Mark standing on the other side, giggling at your confused face.
“Surprised, baby? Come on.” He says, reaching a hand out to you.
“What? What do you mean? What surprise?” You say, eyeing him up and down, not grabbing his hand.
“Oh, come on baby, trust me. Surprise.” He says, slowing down the last word as he leans in closer and offers you his hand more.
Although you’re still a little bit angry at him, you grab his hand and allow him to pull you out of the car.
He thanks the driver and closes the door behind you, waving him off as he drives away.
“Mark, what the hell is happening?” you demand, squeezing his fingers. He just laughs and leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Baby, relax! I just wanted to surprise you.” He rubs a soothing thumb over the back of your hand.
“So Jae’s okay?”
He nods, “Jae’s fine. He’s at home or whatever. I didn’t even see him today.”
You frown, “And my girls?”
He giggles, “They aren’t performing tonight. I figured you’d catch me on that one.”
“So what was all of this for?” You say, relaxing a bit at the snippets of clarity he’s offered you.
“I won’t give it up that easily, baby. Trust me, let’s go.” He begins to walk, taking you with him from your intertwined hands.
You hold back your questions as you walk, knowing he’d get significantly irritated if you kept on asking questions much longer.
Suddenly, it comes into view and you gasp. A beautiful candlelit arch sits on the riverbank, pillows scattered around a basket with a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on top.
You sneak a glance over to him, and he’s smiling, already watching you.
“Mark–” you say, a hand coming to cover your mouth as you stare.
“You like it?” He half whispers. You stop walking to face him.
“I love it baby, thank you.” You say, giving him a short peck before walking over.
“What’s this for?” You say after sitting down, analyzing the very expensive bottle of wine.
“Stop asking questions. Would you like to open it up?” He says and you nod, still shocked at the romance of this moment.
Mark’s always been sweet, and in your opinion precious and thoughtful enough to put rom-com boy’s to shame. This, however, is on another level. He’s never done anything like this before.
You’re not an idiot, so your brain begins to wander to what possibly this could mean. You don’t want to name it just yet, afraid of the disappointment if what you think may be happening isn’t actually happening. So you just enjoy this, drinking wine with the love of your life and watching the ships pass by.
He’s looking at you differently tonight, something beyond the loving gaze he’s always given you. You’re inclined to say that his eyes are attempting to communicate something more to you, something deeper than the already intensely passionate love you share. You feel like blushing every time he stares deeply while you speak.
“So, baby. I think it’s time I tell you what we’re here for.” He says, standing and offering a hand to help you up too. You’re a little wine tipsy, so it’s a difficult task in your stilettos, but he eventually does get you to stand, keeping a stabilizing palm on the small of your back. You giggle and lean in to kiss him again. He doesn’t pull away this time, letting your languid kiss go on. He sighs and pulls you closer into him so that you’re flush against his body. Eventually, you pull away, your curiosity getting the better of you.
“Tell me.” You whisper, biting your lip and staring into his eyes. He looks nervous now, and you’re beginning to believe your suspicion about the night may have been right. You definitely aren’t wearing the right outfit if it truly is the occasion you think it is.
He lets out a shaky breath and blinks a couple of times.
“Uh– yeah. So– uh. Hold on.” He says, patting his pockets.
“Fuck– wait babe. Uh, close your eyes.” He says when he discovers his pockets are empty. You giggle, blushing like crazy and take your hands to cover your eyes. The nerves are beginning to bubble in your belly as you hear him curse to himself and rifle through the basket on the ground.
“Okay, open.” He says and you uncover your eyes to see him standing in front of you, blushing just as much as you are, but a nervous look painting his face.
“Hi, baby.” You say through a giggle, smiling at him.
“Hi,” He says, looking down and avoiding eye contact with you.
“Relax, love.” You say, reaching out and smoothing your hands over his shoulders, pushing them down from their tense position.
He huffs a silent laugh, “I’m being obvious, aren’t I?” He says, still keeping a hand behind his back.
“A little,” you say, using one of your hands to rub his bicep. “but keep going.” You whisper calmingly at him. He breathes out another shaky breath and whispers an “okay”.
“So, uh, Y/N, you know how far we’ve come to get here. And I'm so damn proud of us. I’m proud of how hard we’ve had to work to get here, like to get to each other, and to get to the point that we’re at today so that I can do this. And it’s all because of you, like how amazing, and special, and wonderful, and perfect you are that we’ve been able to make it this far. I’m seriously so fucking lucky that I get to love you, that I got to love you for the 2 years we were together beforehand, the 2 years we were apart, and the 3 years we have going strong together now. Thank you for letting me love you. And you know, like you have to know that you’re the love of my life. Like, you’re my future. You’re my fucking everything. So,” and he steps back, and moves to get down on one knee. You knew it was coming, but you still gasp, hand moving to cover your open mouth, the other going into his hand as he looks up at you, finally revealing what he was hiding behind his back.
“Y/N, will you marry me?” He says, opening the box to reveal a stunningly huge ring, staring at you with the same shimmery eyes as the first time he asked you.
“Oh my God, yes!” You say, and he stands, smiling the biggest smile of his life, picking you up and twirling you in his arms as you kiss. You’ve genuinely never felt happier than you do right now, your heart finally feeling exactly where it belongs as he lets you down and shakily grabs your left hand, slipping the beautiful ring on your finger.
“She said yes!” He yells to the path behind you, where unbeknownst to you, a huge crowd of your friends and family have gathered to watch the event. He raises your intertwined hands, up to the crowd as they cheer. You’re crying, like you always seem to when you think about how much you love Mark, feeling elated and so very in love as you look at him, giving him one final smashing kiss when you lock eyes.
That night after the last guest leaves your shared apartment from the engagement party that was organized for you, you lay in bed, head on Mark’s bare chest, admiring the way your ring glimmers under the dim moonlight.
“Did I do good?” He says, and you lean up to look at his expectant, satisfied face. You kiss him, and he accepts that answer and wraps his arms around you and attempts to deepen the kiss.
That night, after you made love for the first time in your shared bed as an affianced couple, lying in the safest place ever, Mark’s arms in the afterglow, you realize that it was all worth it. The years spent apart, the pain of breaking up, the confusion of getting back together again, the fighting with your public personas.
All of that led you to here, right now, with the love of your life.
You did everything right.
A/N:
im here to break hearts and put them back together OK. and HOLY SHIT I wrote this in 2 days and edited it in 1. The idea for this fic originally was a lot sadder with a lot more dramatic shit, but mark isn’t that kind of man and i wanted to be as true to character as possible. So much love for soph for beta reading this fic and being so patient w all my empty promises to review her notes and then not doing it for like another week LOL. talk to me in my asks!! lemme know what u thought!
taglist (if u rb’d the teaser i added u to the taglist my b if u didnt want to!) : @enjennie @chitaphrrrr @byunfirstlady @unmethodicals @matryoooshka @prodhyck
