YOU ARE IN LOVE

and so it goes: you two are dancing in a snow globe round & round, and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown. and you understand now why they lost their mind and fought the wars and why i've spent my whole life trying to put it into words.

[wldmsdlwldk]

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Jung Heeyeon proposes marriage the first time in The Pojangmacha Across From Doldam Hospital. She doesn't even look her would-be fiancé in the eye, alcohol-addled gaze instead finding a keen interest in the metal cap of a long-finished soju bottle. The realisation she doesn't have a ring comes only after the words are out of her mouth, and she idly wonders if he'd accept the metal ring of the cap instead.

It sounded like a good idea in the moment.

Not so much the morning after, because she doesn't even drink enough to black out and forget. She remembers with startling clarity how she'd interrupted him in the middle of his sentence, blurting a "Should we get married?" in the same tone one would use to ask if they should get another bottle. Starts blabbering on and on about the benefits of cohabitation; economic, taxes, and how they'd be getting their parents off their back if they just told them that they got married.

He turns her down politely, because Im Taein is nothing but a perfect gentleman. Reminds her that she's drunk and not to talk nonsense. Puts her in a cab after, and texts her privately to make sure she's home safe.

The next morning, coffee's sitting on her desk, her name scrawled in his handwriting on the top and an invitation to lunch if she finds time today. Flushed, she shoves the rabbit-shaped sticky note into the pocket of her scrubs before anyone sees, but it doesn't stop Joohwan from giving her a look she can't quite decipher.

It just so happens her lunch hour frees up somewhat, thanks to an elective surgery getting pushed due to the patient spiking a fever. Taein responds to her Kakao message in their group chat almost immediately in the affirmative--- Woohyun says he'll grab a bite when the ER's less busy, and Eunjae doesn't even read the message, which probably means she's in a surgery.

She offers to pick the food up when she sees it's 5 minutes away, but Taein tells her that no worries, he's got it--- it's nice out, would she like to eat in the office or find a spot outside?

She finds a nice bench, under the shade of a plum blossom tree. The sunlight's warm enough it fends off the slight bite of the early spring breeze, and Heeyeon sends him a picture of where she is. Leaning back, she rests her head, thoughts drifting to last night's conversation. Heat rises in her cheeks at the memory of it, and she can't help but cringe at her actions, hands coming up to cover her face. There's nothing to do except hope to God that he somehow doesn't remember and bring it up again.

with ♡, for @ftlove

[staronline]

˖             𓂃      ★ ⠀ׄ   dear    dahye ,

              “  how  does  this  guest list  keep  getting  longer  every  time  i  look  at  it  ?  don't  we  want  to  do  a  small  ,  intimate  thing  ?  seriously  ,  this  is  making  me  think  i  need  to  reevaluate  my  friends  because  no  way  i  have  this  many.  ”  

[wldmsdlwldk]

she leans over, skimming the list. it really is far too long, and dahye drops her head onto blue's arm with a sigh of defeat. "we do have that many friends. believe it or not, i've got another list i came up with in the shower." they lean back with a slight grimace, stretching out the crick in her neck formed by hunching over wedding magazines for hours on end. "i think your mom may just get that big fancy plaza wedding she's dreamt of forever."

[wldmsdlwldk]

yuna's debut novel's thanks to.

Olivia Yuna Go spent her formative years in Chicago and Seoul.

The little author’s blurb underneath the photo of me, photoshopped to high heaven and back by some studio in Itaewon for $20 USD, will say something like Olivia Go is from Chicago. Why that would be important enough information to include, I’ll never quite know, but what I can say to make you want to buy this book is that Olivia Go (me, hi!) is not a romantic. Olivia Go should most definitely not have had her debut novel be a romance novel, but art always imitates real life, and I’ve found it’s impossible to not write about love when you’re in it. 

Thank you to my family– Mom, I know you’ll buy copies of it, even though I tell you not to, and pass it around your book club. Hi, Aunties. Dad, do not let Mom buy more copies. When you inevitably fail this mission, please just limit the damage. Go Yuhwan, put this down right now or else. To my second family, the Jis, this couldn’t have happened without you. No, really. Special thanks to Megan, who I’m very proud of.

To Nicholas, Chaeyunie, Stephanie and SeoGeonwoo, thank you for putting up with me. I’ll come clean here; our pipes got clogged that one time because I tried to flush the first draft of this away. Nicholas, thank you for the Netflix account. And the Ubereats, and the Hulu, and Youtube Premium. You are the true mastermind, and the book would not have happened without you. (I am being held hostage.) Chaeyun, for the beautiful accompaniment whenever I’m writing. Never let the haters (the people you’re between) stop you from playing Careless Whisper. We’ll always have Clair de Lune. Screw V. Stephanie, you cannot stop this book from being published. I checked with Eun, and it’s all on board. How do you say… I love you, and quit being obtuse. SeoGeonwoo, get it together. 

When I think about it again, Olivia Go is from Chicago makes sense for the author’s biography. It’s something unchanging and factual. For the longest time, I thought Olivia Go is not a romantic was, too. I struggled to write romance, because I was doing it for the sake of doing it. I rented rooms in the middle of nowhere, and love did not come to me in the form of lost mail with a name from a decade ago on it. Not then, because I wrote about the Big L Word, never deigning to think I’d ever experience it, even when it was delivered right onto my doorstep.

For once, I’ll admit I was wrong. Olivia Go may be a romantic, after all.

[ftlove]

[ lean ] for receiver to lean in and press their forehead against sender’s forehead + [ top ] for receiver to kiss sender on the top of their head and then rest their cheek against it while holding sender close. + @dearestcupids / haerin + sejun.

crevices of hallways enshrouded in darkness have proven themselves to be more of a home inside this wretched house than anything which masters spew about. the singular constant remains: them, by the open window, illuminated with the gentle touch of moonlight. it's comforting, in a way he cannot explain, in a way he doesn't know how to explain. it's an unfamiliar feeling he's submersed into, on he welcomes steadily — greedily. countless days pass by, turning into weeks, blending into months. and with the comfort settled inside and between them, it matters little. 

he closes his eyes then, not to alienate himself off of the sensation, but to feel it more: over three thousand receptors upon each fingertip that's pressed against the skin of her jaw, warm to his touch; a gentleness, as haerin closes in the little distance between them. more than three thousand receptors but he still cannot get enough of her her body pressed into his, an embrace holding her so tight lest she slips out of his grasp again and disappear. there is not a word ushered, complete silence, a comfortable silence; there is no need for a raise of voice to waver this that they share, actions speaking everything what they want to share to one another.

sejun's lips are pressed against her forehead — days of separation brought by the just rule of masters' has made him miss her presence more than he could miss even breathing itself. an ache within his heart slowly dissipates, pooling away and out into the night, the knot that's held his stomach in a tight hold now finally broken. she's with a heavy breath, chest raising against his, but sejun's is just the same. he does not fear the thud of his heart, either, threatening to burst through the cage made up of his ribs, nor the fact that she can tell. he wants her to know; his want and all that comes with it.

after the gentle kiss is placed, he leans his head against hers. soft inhale of the scent of her, like he doesn't know it as if it were apart of him, as if he couldn't tell her apart from miles away. he pulls at the fabric of her uniform, too, an attempt at bringing her any closer to him.

"missed you."

[wldmsdlwldk]

Desire is a passing thing. A short-lived fire that burns as bright as it does quick.

Ji Haerin knows this all too well. Passion leaves her just as abruptly as it finds her and her partners, often in a dark corner of a nightclub.

So, of course, she assumes that this, too, will pass.

Accidental chemistry finds them together the night of Home School's welcoming party. She's a few drinks and half a joint deep, and it's easy, even without everything in her system, to instruct Sejun to take a deep breath in before pressing her lips against his, softly exhaling smoke into his mouth.

Everything else that happens after is a blur, and the masters slam the door quickly on whatever romance is possibly to be found within the confines of those 4 walls.

Now, her want is different.

It burns slow.

His shoulder brushes gently against hers, as they're laid on the floor reviewing their work in the library. She wants to reach out, press her palm to his chest, and see if his heartbeat's thrumming as fast as she thinks it is.

Constant.

Someone passes behind her, and he gently pulls her aside by her arm. His grip loosens slightly, fingertips dragging slowly and gently down her arm, and it feels like she's going to spontaneously combust. A shrill voice from around the corner reminds them where they are, and Sejun drops his hand. Haerin wants, wants, wants, so hopelessly, that she can't look at him.

Unbearably.

He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, and Haerin still burns. Wants more, to have him without fear. Needs to have him like this, all to herself, all the time, impossibly closer than he is. Lets herself be pulled, pressing into him.

"Did you, now?" Like she couldn't tell. Still, she teases, leaning back and peering innocently up at him through long eyelashes. Her hand comes up to mess up his hair, just the way she likes, before it trails down slowly to interlock with the other at the nape of his neck.

"How much?"

[wldmsdlwldk]

jungjae ​:

❪    ཐི♥︎ཋྀ    ❫     dear   @dearestcupids​  ,    

              “  you  gotta  stop  looking  at  that  article  .  .  they’re  calling  you  a  feminist  ,  so  what  ?  isn’t  that  a  good  thing  ?  ”

it’s times like this she remembers just how different things are for them. the kitchen table between them feels wider than it usually, and she pushes her chair out with an annoyed huff. “it’s not a good thing when men are saying it.” her tone turns sharp, pointed at the wrong person, stress of the entire situation having run her ragged. “they’re asking why someone like you’d ever date a feminist, so it’s not just a me thing, you know.” she slams her phone down with a clatter that’d make anyone else wince. 

[wldmsdlwldk]

soeun ​:

              attention  temporarily  falls  to  the  fridge  door  left  ajar  and  soeun’s  features  scrunch  together  slightly  —  was  request  of  hers  regarding  the  temperature  deemed  that  essential  or  was  the  other  really  just  that  forgetful  ?  either  way  ,  she  follows  behind  soon  after  and  makes  sure  to  close  the  open  compartment  on  the  way  over.  no  wonder  it  was  freezing  in  there.  

              “  what  temperature  ?  umm  .  .  .  ”  she  trails  ,  bottom  lip  jutting  out  in  thought.  believe  it  or  not  ,  this  was  her  first  time  accessing  the  controls  of  a  home  thermostat  ,  the  task  usually  being  passed  off  to  house  maids  to  carry  out.  though  that  was  probably  obvious  enough  with  the  way  she  leans  forward  and  rockets  the  temperature  up  to  a  number  you’d  see  on  a  cool  summer’s  day.  “  better  !  we  can  just  turn  it  back  down  later  when  it  gets  too  warm.  ”  and  with  a  satisfied  pep  in  her  step  ,  soeun  skips  back  into  the  kitchen  like  normal.  “  soooo  ,  what  do  you  do  around  here  ?  i  know  you’re  like  ,  super  busy  and  stuff  ,  but  what  about  your  off  days  ?  —  ooh  ,  do  you  ever  do  those  like  .  .  little  vlogs  ?  ”

the age difference between them’s not that large--- hell, it’s smaller than her age gap within the group, but sooyeon can’t help but feel like she’s babysitting. she’s always tended to the younger side of the age spectrum of whatever group she was in, and never had much reason to interact with any of her juniors in the way she currently was with soeun. she doesn’t quite know what to do; it’s obvious in the way she’s following behind the other and acceding to every one of soeun’s requests, like the younger’d spontaneously combust if she didn’t.

“vlogs? ummm, i do, but like, mostly for fun? i don’t actually want them to be posted--- i like to vlog, on like, my instagram stories when i’m hanging out with my friends.” she’s rambling. “if i have to do one for work, i usually have to clean the house up before i do and figure out what i’m gonna do. my life’s super boring, so i usually go out to a workshop or something. there’s not much to be seen here, anyway.” vaguely gestures to their (frankly, spotless, and also needlessly large) surroundings. “i wanna be, like, super careful, though. don’t wanna show too much.” she’s enough of a commodity already--- her fridge doesn’t need to be part of it.

[wldmsdlwldk]

Stephanie Shin is now a connection.

Dominic @bitterlcve--

Great connecting with you. Thanks for your note-- glad to hear you enjoyed the Burgernomics presentation as much as I did your take on mergers and acquisitions. Would love to hear more about your thoughts on equity issuance fees.

Best,

Stephanie

[wldmsdlwldk]

Ly’s always been an optimist.

At least, she’s always tried. Grandmother tells her that they--- she doesn’t specify who ‘they’ are--- can take everything, even the clothes off her back, but they can’t take how she views the world.

Grandmother’s always been like that. She’s in her 50s when Ly’s born, but when the job of caretaking falls to her when Me’s off working, it’s like she’s in her 20s, the way she runs around the house to capture a giggling Ly.

The jade-green tiled castle of Ly’s youth is a stark difference to her now-house. 

Her new house has white popcorn ceiling and wall. Her new house has well-meaning neighbours that peer curiously at them, who bring food around and laugh and chat in a tongue that Ly thinks she could understand if she tries hard enough. 

Me, Mom, Mum is now a housewife. He’s true to his word and gives them a good life, and so she stays home. Ly privately thinks she’s going stir-crazy, but there’s not much to be done when you can’t hold long enough of a conversation to navigate out of a paper bag. 

They speak only in Vietnamese when Me forgets they’re supposed to be speaking English to help Ly improve hers enough to go to school, when they’re sitting on the peeling leather couch folding laundry, or at the wooden table in the kitchen stemming spinach. 

She doesn’t remember when she starts replying in English.

Ly learns from hours in front of the TV watching American sitcoms she doesn’t understand the punchline to. The syllables round themselves differently than the way her teachers had taught, but Ly fancies herself a fast learner. 

She’s lucky her classmates are nice, too. They ask about where she’s from. Vietnam’s a few centimeters on the map in their geography classes, a brief lesson during their history class. She spends the recesses of her first week of school telling them about her childhood. Haltingly, but it’s better than nothing.

Thao Ly’s easy enough to pronounce, Ly even more so, but Lia’s the easiest. She doesn’t care then. She thinks she likes being Lia more than Ly, because everything’s so convenient here. 

Me calls her Ly, still.

Here’s the difference between Lia and Ly.

Lia is a naturalised citizen, with opportunities offered that her dependent’s pass kept her from. The immigrant dream, a hardworking model minority who assimilates like a fish to water.

Ly is her mother’s child, who listens to stories about her mother having to pick up grains of rice from the streets to feed her siblings.

Here’s where Ly and Lia overlap: they want a better life.

Lia has a better shot than Ly ever could. 

Her mom must have wanted her to become Lia, because why else would she get married to a man she barely knows and move to a country she doesn’t care for?

So she forgets Ly for a while.

A long, long while.

She thinks she misses Ly, but she’s Lia now.

She wonders if she can be both.

[wldmsdlwldk]

bo ​:

.  .  .    #     ࣪  .  🫧  ࿐    🫖       .      @dearestcupids​​​​​​​​​​​    ⌗

      “…  hey.”  gaze  softens  slightly  as  it  rests  on  object  of  affection,  though  it’s  quick  in  sparing  the  other  in  front  of  them  a  dismissive  glance,  lips  curling  in  an  unimpressed  frown.  grip  ‘round  waist  tightens.  “is  this  asshole  bothering  you  ?“

the bell hung on the door announces her presence with a gentle tinkle. the man following her does his with unpleasantly invasive questions about her weekend plans. scanning the store, she greets bo with a strained smile, and quickly puts distance between herself and her unwelcome companion, joining him where he’s standing. 

jaehee shrinks into his side as an arm-- surprising, but not unwelcome-- wraps itself around her waist. she sucks a sharp breath in at the skinship, heart thudding out of her chest, and manages a slight nod.

the man in front of them, obviously angered by her answer, starts spewing expletives directed to her. nothing she can’t handle--- she’d had a russian ballet teacher, and that’d make anyone invincible--- but unpleasant nevertheless. jaehee makes a little ‘yikes’ face, slinking behind bo to crouch under the counter. looking up at him, her hands come together in a begging motion and her expression pleads for him to do something. 

[wldmsdlwldk]

for @pcperthin, with ♡

Weddings are supposed to be a happy occasion. That particular truism’s, unfortunately, never rung particularly true with Wonjeong. 

Perhaps not something you’d want to be true, in the case of the lady in charge of planning what’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

(She’ll digress briefly: 

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. 

Wonjeong’s lost count of just how many ugly dresses she’s thrown out. The nausea-inducing recycled shades of pink and blue blend together after the 4th wedding she fails to catch the bouquet at.

They’re just not all that fun. Not when you’re the one planning it.

Don’t get her wrong--- she adores her job. Loves it to death. Less so the pains she goes through to ensure her bride gets The Perfect Day. 

The phone calls and emails in which she painstakingly explains every detail of what she requires, and then makes them perfectly read back what she’s ordered. The bride’s meltdown(s), which she’ll need to handle swiftly, gently, and gracefully on top of whatever stupid idiot made the stupid idiot mistake of messing up the flowers. 

She’d go on, if she didn’t physically actually feel her blood pressure rising just thinking about it.

You get the gist.)

Still, they’re supposed to be happy.

Sena looks anything but.

That’s wrong. That shouldn’t be the case, not when she’s the picture of a radiant bride-to-be. Wonjeong pauses her re-re-re-re-readjusting of the veil, and actually looks at the person behind it. 

She remembers being 10 and fat. Sena’s 12, then, if memory serves her right. Her mom squeezes a pudgy arm in warning, when dessert’s presented, and Wonjeong declines as her eyes greedily follow the decadent tarts and cakes making their way around the Lees’ tea room.

Sena slides her an eclair, when the adults aren’t looking.

Now they’re the adults.

She slides Sena an eclair. 

Shoos everyone else out of the room, and they both face the mirror. Wonjeong smiles, brighter than Sena does. “How’re you feeling?” 

[wldmsdlwldk]

soeun ​:

*    ꕤ    …    @hour553​​    …

              “  you  know  ,  i’m  very  thankful  you’re  letting  me  stay  with  you  on  such  short  notice  but  my  god  you  keep  it  freezing  in  here.  ”

sooyeon’s never been a family person. not by choice, though she supposes she could make more of an effort... 

no time like the present, then!

she pauses her re-stocking of the fridge, greek yoghurt in hand as she blinks and whirls around to face soeun. “should i turn the temperature up? shall we do that?” current task at hand forgotten almost immediately in favour of being a good hostess, the fridge door’s left ajar as she pads to the thermostat. “what temperature’s good for you, soeunie? no, actually?” she beckons her cousin to her. “come here, and you can adjust it however you want.” 

[wldmsdlwldk]

for @bitterlcve, continued from ♡

At 22, Yuna has real, actual adult responsibilities!

Like unpacking. Which finds her awake at a not-very-responsible hour, because unlike real adults, she’s oddly unable to do anything productive during the day. Unpacking all her items to make space for the veritable mountain of purchases that’s accumulated during the week since her move, Yuna’s proud to report that she’d finally made some progress! Half of her boxes have been taken out to the recycling, their contents all in their respective places in her room. She’s done such a good job so far...

Her grubby little shopaholic gaze keeps drifting to her packages, and Go Yuna cracks. She needs a coffee table less than she does the cute dress she’d bought 3 days ago with the little bow in the front, and the wedges she’d bought to go along with it. Armed with a penknife, she unboxes a 4-set of apple pencil tips, tinsel for DIY sparkling hair, and... banchan.

It looks far too homemade for Yuna to have brought it from Gmarket, all packed neatly in well-loved Tupperware with a selection of snacks she’d never have deigned to purchase for herself. So she comes to the next logical conclusion: it’s a classic case of mail mix-up, and this olive-enjoyer probably had her items, too. 

In fact, it’s probably them at the door right now!

Panicking a little, she hoists the hefty box onto her hip, calling out a hurried “Yes, I think I’ve got one of yours here! Sorry, just-- give me a second! ‘s really heavy.” as she searches for a name on the box to confirm their identity.

Yuna finds Ji Youngtaek on her doorstep, just as she makes out the name written on the haphazardly pasted mailing label.

She drops the box by her feet, hands coming up to massage her eyes and temples. Christ, she has got to go to bed. Visual and auditory hallucinations are an absolutely fucking terrifying combination, even if it’s not her first sleep-deprived rodeo.

It’s an odd thing to dream of, though. 

Ji Youngtaek lives in the back rooms of her mind, their friendship archived in dusty boxes she’s not touched since 16. She no longer dreams of, or thinks of him. Not even fleetingly, when she forgets to specify that she doesn’t want olives on her pizza and has to pick them off and those sad little bastards go into the food waste. 

He doesn’t, and shouldn’t be standing in front of her in a sharehouse in the middle of nowhere, a package addressed to her in his arms. 

And so she kicks the door shut, mumbling a prayer for exorcism under her breath.

[wldmsdlwldk]

hyemi ​:

              “  well  ,  no  but  …  ”  words  trail  as  her  eyes  do  ,  hyemi  thinking  back  on  all  the  years  the  pair  have  spent  living  together  and  ,  well  ,  what  do  ya  know.  dahye  really  has  had  the  same  hair  color  for  as  long  as  she’s  know  them.  the  realization  doesn’t  matter  anyhow.  her  friend’s  not  even  listening.  “  can’t  we  like  ,  pierce  another  part  of  my  ear  or  something  ??  look  ,  look  !  ”  suddenly  she’s  pulling  back  her  hair  and  showing  them  all  the  free  space  they  can  stick  needles  in.  “  any  spot  you  want.  go  ahead.  nearly  virgin  ears.  ”

              there’s  a  silence  that  fills  the  room  between  them  for  a  moment  ,  dahye’s  eyes  displaying  an  unconfident  sense  of  hope  while  hyemi’s  are  also  unconfident  but  there’s  genuine  consideration  present  in  them  too.  a  hot  girl  era.  it  sounds  so  nice  ,  yet  so  unattainable  for  someone  like  her.  never  in  her  life  has  she  been  considered  a  hot  girl  ——  not  by  others  and  definitely  not  by  herself.  cute  girl  ,  sure  …  but  hot  ?  certainly  that  was  pushing.  “  a  streak  ?  ”  she  repeats  ,  though  it’s  mostly  said  to  herself  as  she  turns  around  and  gives  herself  a  quick  glance  in  the  mirror.  just  that  quickly  ,  her  face  falls  at  the  reflection  and  she’s  turning  back  to  dahye  ,  who  is  now  practically  hovering  in  front  of  the  door  in  an  attempt  to  block  the  exit.  “  if  i  change  my  hair  then  i  have  to  change  everything  else  too.  i  can’t  walk  into  my  classes  with  neon  green  highlights  and  pair  it  with  my  favorite  brown  turtleneck  sweater.  i’ll  have  to  get  a  whole  new  wardrobe  and  god  knows  how  bad  i  am  at  shopping.  ”  ramble  after  ramble  but  she  can  tell  the  other  isn’t  budging.  not  even  close.  seriously  ,  why  did  she  have  to  get  drunk  and  show  her  the  hair  inspiration  pinterest  board  ??  why  couldn’t  it  have  been  the  traveling  board  ?  she  blows  out  a  defeated  sigh  and  plops  herself  back  down  on  the  toilet  seat  ,  giving  dahye  one  of  her  fine  you  win  looks.  “  if  i  hate  it  ,  you’re  taking  me  to  a  salon  immediately  and  you’re  paying  whatever  it  costs  to  fix  it.  ”

      oh,  that’s  actually  tempting.  

      dahye  loses  herself  in  a  movie  montage  of  constellation  piercings  and  the  gorge  jewelry  combinations  hyemi  could  be  wearing  on  her  ears,  but  she  catches  it  for  what  it  is:  a  attempt  at  distraction!  a  good  one,  which  she’ll  file  away  for  the  future,  but  distraction,  nonetheless!  

      “no!”  they  gesture  with  an  angry  index  finger  in  hyemi’s  direction.  no!  no,  bad  hyems.  stop  exploiting  the  fact  that  dahye  has  the  attention  span  of  (if  they’re  being  generous)  a  gnat  to  try  to  get  out  of  it.  “we  will  pierce  your  ears  later,  after  we’ve  dyed  your  hair.  imagine  washing  your  hair  with  6  new  holes  in  your  ears.  it’s  very  much  a  risk  for  infection.  plus,  i  think  you  could  go  blind  if  i  poked  the  wrong  part  of  your  ear  or  something...  doesn’t  dying  your  hair  seem  so  much  sexier  and  safer  by  comparison?  you  get  to  keep  your  vision  in  both  eyes!”  it’s  not  actually  true,  but  dahye’s  not  above  lying  to  get  their  way.  they’d  googled  it  when  blue’d  pierced  their  ear  that  one  time.  

      one  way  or  the  other,  hyemi’s  convinced,  and  a  cheshire  grin  stretches  onto  dahye’s  face  as  she  talks  herself  into  it  with  the  carrot  dangling  above  her,  the  glimmering,  glittering  promise  of  a  hot  girl  era.  “bestie,  you’re  going  to  want  to  dye  your  entire  head  after  this.  swear.  pinky  promise.  my  mother’s  grave  and  shit.”  she  snaps  on  rubber  gloves  and  gets  to  mixing  the  bleach  solution,  nose  wrinkling  at  the  smell.  plastic  was  safe,  right?

      eh,  they’d  figure  it  out.  

      “if  you’re  worried  about  your  closet,  then  we  won’t  do  neon  green  highlights.  get  something  easy  to  match.  basic.  pink,  blue,  ya  know?  remember  that  time  i  had  smurf  hands  for,  like,  a  week?  if  i  could  make  that  work,  you  can  pull  off  a  little  pink  streak.”  dahye  holds  up  the  brush,  a  glop  of  bleach  dripping  onto  their  floor.  “where  are  we  doin’  it?” 

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dohyun ​:

              really  he  would  have  been  asleep  by  now  ,  eventually  shifting  enough  in  the  tight  space  the  couch  has  to  offer  and  finding  a  position  that  was  comfortable  enough  to  pass  out  in.  though  somewhere  between  the  constant  shuffling  sounding  from  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  the  light  being  flicked  on  from  the  bathroom  what  seemed  like  every  thirty  minutes  ,  dohyun  just  couldn’t  quite  fall  into  that  sweet  release  of  temporary  unconsciousness.  

              hell  ,  did  she  always  have  to  pee  this  much  ?  he’s  not  able  to  recall  ,  but  then  again  ,  it’s  not  every  night  the  two  are  having  to  bunk  together.  

              this  time  he  waits  a  while  ,  trying  to  see  if  he  can  count  down  the  minutes  before  hanna  gets  up  next  to  go  do  god  knows  what  in  the  bathroom.  impressively  enough  he’s  discovered  more  than  an  hour  has  passed  as  he  glances  over  at  the  alarm  clock  that  notes  the  current  time  in  big  red  numbers.  somewhere  in  there  he  managed  to  doze  off  ,  but  there’s  a  cramp  starting  up  in  his  shoulder  from  this  awful  couch  and  he’s  just  about  to  flip  over  and  relieve  it  but  …  damn  it  ,  is  she  really  getting  up  again  ?  god  forbid  she  leaves  any  toilet  paper  for  the  rest  of  the  place.  don’t  move  ,  the  little  voice  in  the  back  of  his  mind  quickly  urges  him  to  pretend  he’s  fast  asleep.  always  better  safe  than  sorry when  it  came  to  ———  “  oh  my  god  ,  what  ?  ”  dohyun  jolts  at  the  contact  so  quickly  he  almost  slips  right  off  the  couch.  though  hopefully  his  corner  of  the  hotel  room  is  dark  enough  that  the  other  doesn’t  catch  it.  “  did  you  really  just  kick  me  ?  —  what  do  you  need  ?  you  run  out  of  toilet  paper  or  something  ?  ”  a  huff  punctuates  the  words  that  reveal  he’s  pretty  much  been  awake  this  entire  time.  

      she  half-expects  it,  but  hanna  still  starts  a  little  at  his  voice.  maybe  it’s  the  dark  creeping  her  out---  she  wouldn’t  have  left  a  light  on,  not  with  her  arch-nemesis  in  the  same  room.  imagine  if  word  got  out  that  park  hanna,  at  her  grown  age  of  19,  still  couldn’t  sleep  without  a  nightlight;  it’d  be  humiliating.  no,  there  was  no  way  she’d  give  her  sworn  enemy  anything  more  than  he’d  already  had  on  her.  

       she’s  fantastic  at  tuning  white  noise  out,  and  so  she  ignores  his  jab.  it’s  great  taking  the  high  road.  "guess  you’re  not  sleeping.”  well,  duh.  hanna  pauses,  a  little  embarrassed.  moving  on.  “i’ll  offer  one  more  time,  and  then  i’ll  really  be  going  to  sleep.  you  can  sleep  in  the  bed.  we’re  both  adults.  it’s  fine.”  she  realises  how  her  words  could  be  construed  differently  as  they leave  her  big,  stupid  mouth,  but,  well,  it’s  dohyun. 

       not  even  if  they  were  the  last  two  people  on  earth.

      “... only  since  you’ve  got  that  photoshoot  or  whatever  tomorrow.  it’d  be  embarrassing  on  a  national  level  if  you  went  looking  like  a  corpse.”  very  nationalistic,  park  hanna!  a  fat  load  of  good  that  patriotism  did  her,  though---  they  couldn’t  even  book  the  country’s  two  top  skaters’  rooms  properly...  which,  again,  brought  them  right  back  to  the  matter  at  hand.  “stop  being  a  baby,  dude.  seriously.”

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      this  must  be  the,  what,  4th  time  they’ve  done  it?  she’s  lost  count,  really.

      sooyeon  is  under  him,  chest  heaving.  she  thinks  she  looks  rather  pretty  in  that  angle,  actually---  hair  fanned  out,  lipgloss  and  slight  sheen  of  sweat  glistening  under  the  kwoon’s  fluorescent  lights,  doe  eyes  wide  as  she  gazes  up  at  jungjae.  they’re  sparring---  are?  were?---  and  she  must  say,  this  is  much  more  by-the-book  than  the  past  few  times.  

      (the  first  one  was  personally  her  least  favourite;  the  menace  had  pretty  just  bent  her  over  in  the  cockpit  of  the  jaeger  and  had  his  way  with  her  when  she  got  too  mouthy.)

      she  leans  up  to  nip  at  his  earlobe,  slowly  trailing  hot  open-mouthed  kisses  down  his  neck.  a  hand  finds  a  way  to  the  nape  of  his  neck,  and  she  lightly  tugs  at  his  hair,  allowing  her  more  access.  the  other’s...  getting  to  know  him  better.  much,  much  better  than  sooyeon  ever  wants  to.  

      “aw.”  she  smiles  up  wickedly  at  him,  eyes  glinting.  “i  guess  i  lost.”  the  buttons  go,  and---

      aaaaand  she’s  not  wearing  anything  underneath.

      why  wouldn’t  she  be  wearing  anything  underneath?  that  was  so  unrealistic!

      she  rips  herself  out  of  the  memory,  hearing  a  ‘neural  bridge  exercise  invalid’  somewhere  behind  her.  it’s  always  weird  being  in  someone’s  head,  never  mind  the  fact  she’d  just  seen  herself  giving  a  handjob,  and  she  shakes  her  head  hard  to  situate  herself.  

      “oh,  for  the  love  of---  the  sex  rabit?  really?”  maybe  she  shouldn’t  be  quite  so  smart-mouthed,  but  if  their  drift’s  anything  to  go  by,  jungjae  seems  to  like  it  much  more  than  he  lets  on.  “don’t  cream  your  pants,  kwon.  you’re  into  some  really---”

[wldmsdlwldk]

dohyun ​:

@hour553​  is  typing  …    (  ꕤ  )     ❛    chivalry is overrated,  get in my bed.     ❜

              all  that’s  offered  on  the  boy’s  countenance  is  a  flat  look  ,  displeasure  read  clear  across  every  crease  and  ridge  of  his.  how  the  other  could  say  something  so  ridiculous  like  that  and  still  maintain  a  straight  face  was  truly  astonishing.  it  was  either  take  the  floor  or  take  the  couch  (  seriously  ,  was  that  thing  getting  smaller  every  time  he  looked  at  it  ?  could  practically  feel  the  aching  in  his  neck  and  knees  already  )  ——  those  were  his  options.  as  you  could  see  the  bed  was  not  one  of  them  ,  because  such  a  spot  had  already  been  claimed  by  hanna  before  he  even  got  the  chance  to  step  both  feet  into  the  room.  

              the  last  thing  dohyun  is  doing  on  this  trip  is  sharing  a  bed.  especially  with  her.

              “  i’m  sleeping  on  the  couch.  ”  he  mumbles  ,  already  tossing  a  spare  pillow  and  blanket  onto  it’s  cushioned  surface.  “  if  it’s  that  big  of  a  deal  then  i’ll  get  the  bed  tomorrow  and  you  can  have  the  couch.  if  not  ,  then  just  …  turn  over  and  go  to  sleep.  ”

      it’s  perhaps  a  little  underhanded,  in  retrospect,  but  park  hanna’s  all  about  the  victory,  baby!  so  maybe  it’s  a  tiny  bit  despicable  she’d  cheated  in  their  match  of  rock-paper-scissors  for  the  bed,  but  there’s  no  prize  for  sportsmanship.  definitely  no  podium  for  hanna  if  she’s  to  spend  the  night  before  her  short  program  on  the  tiny  sofa.  

      but  she  does  have  a  tiny  bit  of  a  conscience,  and  she  figures  she’s  done  her  bit  to  ease  the  nagging.  it’s  on  him  if  he  doesn’t  want  to  share;  not  like  she  didn’t  offer!

      “alright,  well,  goodnight!”  she  chirps,  snapping  her  eyemask  back  into  place  and  free-falling  onto  the  bed  she’d  cheated  her  way  into.

      damn  it,  conscience.  

      perhaps  it’s  karmic  retribution  and  she  has  a  little  guilt  baby  growing  in  her  for  the  sole  purpose  of  tapdancing  on  her  bladder,  because  she  wakes  up  no  less  than  3  times  in  2  hours  to  answer  nature’s  call.  

      each  time,  na  dohyun  doesn’t  so  much  as  stir  as  she  glances  suspiciously  at  him,  rise  and  fall  of  his  back  as  boringly  constant  as  he  is.  hanna  thinks  there’s  no  way  he’s  actually  sleeping---  his  head  crammed  uncomfortably  into  the  crook  of  the  sofa  and  feet  stuck  out  straight  over  the  edge  like  a  corpse  (knock  on  wood.),  but  she  doesn’t  put  it  past  him.  the  14  or  so  years  she’s  known  him,  he’s  seemed...  robotic,  almost,  with  his  stoicism.  maybe  he  even  falls  asleep  like  one.

      she  figures  the  best  way  to  test  her  hypothesis  out  is  by  kicking  him  lightly  on  the  arm.  twice.

[wldmsdlwldk]

hyemi ​:

              “  wait  really  ?  why  would  you  never  dye  your  hair  ??  ”  she  suddenly  asks  as  she’s  being  led  to  the  toilet  seat  ,  as  if  it  was  the  only  thing  the  other  said.  “  that’s  so  surprising  ,  you  seem  like  the  type  that  would  dye  their  hair  all  sorts  of  colors.  ——  have  you  really  never  done  it  ?  ”  no  way  hyemi  had  her  beat  at  that  one.  granted  she’s  only  gone  between  her  natural  dark  locks  and  a  dirty  blonde  ,  but  still. 

              she  nods  along  ,  attention  falling  back  to  the  bottles  littering  the  side  of  the  sink  before  the  realization  of  what  her  best  friend  has  just  said  sinks  in.  eyes  widen  and  she  shoots  dahye  one  of  those  i  know  you’re  joking  looks.  except  ,  they  don’t  seem  to  be  joking  at  all  and  only  further  strip  away  her  hopes  as  they  go  on.  hyemi  is  quick  to  stand  on  her  feet  so  that  dahye  no  longer  has  the  advantage  of  towering  over  her  ,  and  still  ,  the  disbelief  continues.  “  oh  no  no  no  ,  we’re  not  doing  this.  dahye  ,  come  on  ,  i  wasn’t  being  serious.  i  don’t  even  remember  saying  any  of  that  !  for  all  i  know  ,  you’re  making  that  up.  ”  something  close  to  a  laugh  falls  from  her  lips  because  really  there’s  no  way  they  thought  that  even  for  a  second  sober  hyemi  would  do  something  like  this.  “  seriously  ,  i’m  not  dying  my  hair  freaking  ,  ”  she  reaches  out  and  picks  up  the  colored  container  closest  to  her  ,  “  atomic  turquoise.  ——  oh  i  know  !  we’ll  do  lizzie  !  there  ,  now  it  doesn’t  have  to  go  to  waste.  ”

      “just  ‘cause.”  dahye  shrugs  simply.  they’ve  just  never  had  reason  to  dye  their  hair,  and  seeing  their  friends’  hair  damage  quashed  any  desire  to.  “i’m  getting  sick  of  your  stereotypes.”  eyes  narrow  at  their  roommate,  as  if  they’re  actually  taking  offense  and  not  just  quoting  a  tiktok  sound.  “really,  hyems.  think  about  it.  4  years  living  together---  have  you  ever  seen  me  with  different  hair?  you  literally  never  pay  any  attention  to  me.  so  upsetting.  i  think  you  should  make  up  for  me  by  letting  me  dye  your  hair.”  she  ties  it  together  with  what  she  thinks  is  a  very  cute  smile.

      it’s  a  valiant  attempt,  but  hyemi  doesn’t  seem  convinced.  “do  i  look  like  a  liar?”  they  bat  their  eyes,  looking  as  innocent  as  they  can.  “come  on,  hyems.  this  could  totally  kickstart  your  hot  girl  era.  maybe  a  fun  little  streak  is  all  you  need!”  doubtful,  considering  hyemi  in  general,  but  dahye  figures  it’ll  be  a  good  way  to  kill  a  couple  of  hours.  “oh,  yas!  i  googled  it,  because  i  figured  there  would  be  some  leftover  and  we  could  make  liz  lgbt,  but---”  she’s  getting  distracted.  “BUT!  we’re  only  going  to  do  that  after  you  dye  your  hair.”  throwing  herself  in  front  of  the  bathroom  door,  dahye  flings  her  arms  out.  “and  we  are  not  leaving  until  you  do.  this  is  a  hostage  situation.”