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#haechan imagine
twilghtkoo · 3 days
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telling my boyfriend my tampon is stuck . . .
pairings. haechan x reader (f)
genre. crack, fluff? established relationship
warnings. mentions of period blood lol
note. i've wanted to do this one for awhile lol and i finally had time to write this quickly so sorry if it's short, like and reblogs are vv much appreciated !! enjoy <3
[ series masterlist | masterlist ]
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"babe?" you call out quietly, sounding nervous, from the bathroom.
you hear rustling in your bedroom. "yeah," he responds.
"can you come here please?" you wait patiently, swaying on your feet.
he appears a few feet away from the doorway. "what's up, baby?"
with him now standing in front of you, you're not sure how to go about this and you have to fight your inner self from bursting out into fits of nervous giggles.
you start fiddling with the rings around your fingers. "umm, i can't get my tampon out. it's stuck.."
his mouth slightly opens as he glances down then back up at you. "oh god, the string is gone?" he slightly chuckles but inches towards you, reaching with his hand to softly grab onto your elbow.
his reaction has you both chuckling a bit. "yeah, it's pretty far up there. i'm scared."
he nods, "okay, i'll get it." he replies, as if this was a normal occurence.
"no, no wait. it's bloody and gross."
he blinks. "so? i'll wash my hands first, you should lie down- wait i'll set a towel down for you. let me grab a flashlight-"
your head snaps towards him, grabbing his hand from leaving the room, with your eyes wide. "a flashlight? wait, no it's scary." you back away, laughing out of fear.
"baby, trust me i'll find it. we don't wanna leave it in there do we?" he quirks an eyebrow.
"well, no but-" he cuts you off.
leaving to grab a towel from the linen closet as he neatly places it down on the tiled floor. "i'm not walking into uncharted territory babe, don't you worry. take your pants off, lie down, knees up-"
"baby, wait!"
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f4irys4n · 5 months
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nct dream p♡rn links pt1
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lee mark
hitting it from the back
your favourite necklace
nothing a man loves more
huang renjun
treating you right
using his pretty face
it’s play time
lee jeno
he loves hearing you
stretching you out
at your pace
lee donghyuck
he’s an ass man
toying with you
you can’t keep quiet
na jaemin
lunch never tasted better
you love his hands
destroying your insides
zhong chenle
subby!chenle’s punishment
riding him slowly
putting his tongue to use
park jisung
using you like a toy
hands behind your back
pretty boy gets his face wet
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please make sure you log into your twt on the browser or it’ll show up as the tweet doesn’t exist <3 some links also may break over time due to account or videos being deleted/removed !!
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hyuckmov · 1 year
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haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby   read part 2 here <3
'cause he's so pretty when he goes down on me gold-skinned, eager baby 
haechan x fem!reader 7.2k, smut, minors dni, a bit of fluff, basically haechan loves your boobs. not proofread i was too excited. content: chest/boobs/nipples fixation if i ever seen one, consensual somnophilia but not really because one of them is awake, a little bit of teasing and manipulating i guess, unprotected sex, masturbating with a bra (m), shower sex, titty fucking, a little mention of dumbification, dom-ish haechan turned desperate needy (and dare i say, a little bit subby...?) haechan...ngl reader doesn't get to cum a lot this is mostly about haechan a/n: thank you all for waiting i really hope this lives up to your expectations or it's at least a little hot until the call with mark, you hadn’t really noticed at all. 
“dude he’s like…fucking obsessed with your boobs.” mark insists. over video-call, there’s a slight lag between his voice and his actions, but there’s no mistaking the sincerity on his face. 
“are you sure?” you ask, skeptically. “he’s never mentioned it to me at all.” 
mark laughs. “he said he doesn’t want to seem like a perv, so he never brings it up with you.” tilting his head to the side, “i guess that’s why he keeps telling me about it. you should do something about it for your anniversary or something.” 
haechan was a careful boyfriend. you appreciated the way his hands never lingered excessively on your waist even as he was a touchy person. you appreciated how, even if you had just come out from your shower in your towel — hair dripping wet, the material barely skimming the tops of your thighs, he kept his voice as steady as possible while handing you a robe. you appreciated the effort it took for him to keep his palms planted firmly on the bed above your head even as he made love to you. even as you grabbed at him incessantly, his fingers would go white, twisting in the sheets as he held himself back. 
and yet, something in you wanted to see him lose control completely. 
“yeah,” you breathe out, slowly. “i should.” 
happy anniversary, haechan. 
x
you start out small. you just need to see if mark might be onto something. 
“haechan, what should i wear to dinner?” 
haechan had been hyping up this date night for weeks and weeks. you know he researched the restaurant extensively, reading guides and blog posts about which wine to pair with each course. and for the past 30 minutes while you got ready, he sat patiently in the living room on his phone, sitting carefully so his button down shirt and slacks didn’t wrinkle. it was one of the things you found most endearing about him — how much he wanted things to be perfect even as the two of you got close to your second year of being a couple. you just wanted things to be perfect for him too. 
now, at your question, he wanders into your room, an easy smile on his face already. crossing over to where you stand in front of your mirror, he kisses your cheek and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying from side to side. 
“that looks good, baby,” he says, sincerely. “you wanna head out now?”
“wait,” you untangle yourself from him and he steps away politely. “i’ll give you another option.” 
grabbing at the hem of your black turtleneck, a purposefully high collared choice, you tug it off you as quick as you could. you take a quick glance at the mirror, and sure enough haechan has averted his eyes at the prospect of seeing you topless. staring resolutely at the floor, you think you can almost see a red begin to tint his cheeks. 
“tell me when you’re done,” he mumbles, and you want to tilt his head up and make him look at you in the nice lacy bra you’d picked out, but you hold back. you promised you were going to start with something more subtle. 
and so you pull on a tight cropped cardigan with a low dipping neckline — one that hugs and accentuates your chest really nicely. doing up the buttons as quickly as you could, making sure it was just the right tightness, you tap him on the shoulder. 
“done.” 
observing him closely through the mirror, you see how his eyes jump instinctively to your chest, and then to your face, before they gravitate downwards again and settle into what is certainly a stare. almost as if he couldn’t resist. 
and were you imagining things, or was he breathing a little harder than before?
“haechan?” you prompt, and you bite back a smile when you see him jolt a little out of his daze, blinking rapidly. “thoughts?” 
“this one,” he blurts out. almost comically with how he can’t take his eyes off you, he darts out his tongue to wet his lips before repeating himself. “this one…it’s…you…” he swallows. “you should wear this one to dinner.” 
“it’s not too tight?” frowning exaggeratedly, you adjust your bra such that your boobs shift around a little under the top, squeezing them together. 
haechan hesitates. “actually…”, fuck he thinks to himself. because if you wear this to the restaurant, everyone will be able to see you. and he’ll be forced to pretend not to notice all throughout the meal. how the fuck, he thinks, as he watches you adjust your top again, am i supposed to think about wine pairings now?
“yes?” you revel in the way his eyes have glazed over entirely. 
“the first top.” he nods, almost as if convincing himself. “the turtleneck’s good.”
“why?” 
pause. “black looks better on you.” he slots his hands into his pockets, bouncing on his toes. “if you’re ready i’ll get the door.” 
“okay, you go on first.” you think you see relief on his face as he speedwalks out the door. 
twirling on the spot, thanking your lucky stars for mark’s tip-off, you swap out your black cardigan in exchange for the turtleneck, and head out to join your boyfriend at the doorway. 
x
it was exciting — thinking of ways to test haechan, little by little. it wasn’t that he wasn’t a passionate boyfriend, or that he was too shy. he had quite the dirty mouth if the atmosphere ever called for it, and he never attempted to hide his sounds of pleasure if you felt particularly good wrapped around him. but there was no denying that some part of him was always in control. 
because there was one version of haechan, who was something like this: 
“haechan?” 
he made a soft sound, turning to look at you from where you were seated on the other end of the couch. nights like these — with the television light illuminating your faces, haechan cozy and warm in an hoodie and sweatpants, you in one of his old shirts, with just enough of your bodies touching to give each other space and affection, — these were the nights you always felt a little more touch-starved than usual. and your boyfriend was just an arm’s length away, ready to love you in any way you ask.  
“baby?” 
you extend your arms out, reaching for him. “kisses please.” 
smiling, he reaches out and gently pulls you into his lap. your face turned towards him, the two of you beam at each other as haechan cups your face tenderly. dipping his head down so your noses touch, he goes a little cross-eyed as he basks in the feeling of your skin against his, his gaze shining with adoration. 
“okay,” he whispers, as he captures your lips in a sweet, patient, kiss. and another. and another, eyes fluttering shut to focus on the feeling, his hands never moving from the way he holds your face. afterwards, he wraps you in your arms so you can rest your head against his chest, and each time you raise your head up he kisses you indulgently. 
and when, as this progresses, your hands begin to wander purposefully to the strings of his sweatpants, he swats them away softly – the tiniest bit of flush on his cheeks as his heartbeat quickens, flustered.
“just kissing, baby,” he presses his lips on your forehead to emphasise his point. “just want to be close to you.” 
and then there was -
“haechan,” you whine. 
his head thrown back, he at least makes the effort to focus his eyes on you. but his body doesn’t stop moving, his grip on your waist bruising as he fucks up into you with more fervor. 
“yeah?” he mumbles. 
“kiss me?” 
his head snaps to you, and the side of his mouth quirks up. “hold that thought.” 
and then he’s flipping the two of you over. still inside you, he hikes your legs up and wraps them around his waist. your arms go to his shoulders instinctively, while his move upwards to cage you in. and then he goes still. 
“beg for it.” looking way too pleased with himself, he swivels his hips in slow motions, watching your face carefully to find your sweet spot, the angle that will drive you insane. he knows when he’s found it: your body shudders, your nails dig into his back and he hisses with pain. 
“haechan, please…” you whine, as he starts to pull out of you, only to slam right into that one spot inside you that makes you see stars. surrendering yourself to him, you ramble on, “fuck, please, touch me, please…” 
“what did you say, princess?” he buries his face in your neck, the way you squeeze around him and the obscene sounds of how wet you are beginning to get to him, as he begins to chase his own high. 
his hot breath on your neck, his lips brushing against skin but never sucking, his hands hovering beside you but not touching. 
control. boundaries. lines which you would like to see blurred, and crossed. 
x
you knew he would be having a long day at work. he had told you the exact timings of his most important meetings, his lunch break, consults with clients, and then the time and duration of his less important meetings. 
so nothing was a mistake when you sent him the photo of you at 3.45pm sharp, right at the last 15 minutes of his least important meeting of the day. 
because you were nothing if not considerate. 
haechan had been bored, sitting in his swivel chair, trying to maintain eye contact with the zoom conference but also scrolling on his phone when the investors rambled on for just a little too long. 
y/n: image
thinking little of it, maybe you needed an opinion on an outfit, he glanced at his laptop one more time before unlocking his phone and opening his chat with you. 
and he freezes. 
because on the screen, is a photo of you. specifically, from the waist up, wearing one of his dress shirts, unbuttoned almost all the way and pushed open so he could see the very pretty, very lacy, barely-there bra you were wearing. one that was practically transparent with its mesh and lace, your nipples in stiff peaks poking out through the material. the sizing of the flimsy bra making your breasts look even fuller, even softer, than usual. 
fuck. 
he stares at your photo, lips slightly parted. he swallows. he swallows again. embarrassingly, his slacks begin to feel a little tight. fingers uncoordinated and slow, he types out the only response he can think of. 
haechan: hi 
haechan: did you send this to the wrong person? 
while he waits for your response, he clicks back to the photo. he can’t help it, what if you decide to unsend it? the thought flits through his mind, and hurriedly, he goes to save it just in case it didn’t download to his phone. 
y/n: babe you’re my boyfriend who else would i send this too? 
haechan: oh 
haechan: right
he can’t help it. the meeting gone straight from his mind, and your conversation with him slowly making less and less sense, the only thing he can think of doing is zooming in on the photo. deep down, he’s always been obsessed with your chest, but he always felt that it was a weird thing to bring up. you’ve never expressed a fixation with any particular body part of his, and he feels wrong for all the times he sneaks glances at you: be it from over your top, or when you’re midway through changing. he would never dream of asking to touch, but god he wants to. he doesn’t even know what he wants to do with your boobs other than to see, and to touch. and here you are, handing him his first opportunity to act on the former. 
so he stares, and he stares. wildly he considers setting this photo as his homescreen. when the meeting ends, he slams his laptop quickly shut. 
he was going to have to think of a way to pretend this didn’t affect him the way it did. 
x
“needed you all day, baby,” he groaned. haechan had just gotten home, spent about 5 minutes upholding the facade that he could spend a quiet evening just chatting with you after the events of the day, before he’d finally had enough and tugged you into his lap to suck on your tongue. gasping, his body shivering with need, he separated from you just long enough to make out the words “need you. right now”.
indulging him, you kissed him back just as fiercely. “hold on,” you say, as you clamber up from the couch and cross over to the dining table. teasingly, you place a hand on the tabletop, leaning on it as you smile. 
“bend me over?” 
still slumped into his seat, haechan pokes his tongue into his cheek in thought. “why don’t you show me how you want it first?” he challenges.
diligently, you bend yourself over the edge of the table, propping yourself up on your elbows. wiggling your ass a few times in the air, and trying to ignore the fear that he’ll laugh at you, you look over at him expectantly, doing everything but batting your lashes. 
haechan does laugh at you, but not in literal amusement. the dark sound of derision he lets out shoots straight to your core, as he gets up almost lazily, strolling over to you. 
“baby wants it from the back?” 
standing behind you, he runs his fingertips down your spine, stroking your back. it would almost be a tender action if not for the fact that he takes his hand away only to place it between your spread legs. 
sliding your pants together with your panties down your legs, he continues to kiss your shoulders as he begins running his fingers up and down your slit, eliciting a whine from you. 
“haechan…please don’t tease,” you plead, as he places a gentle pressure at your clit. “need you so bad too.” 
“shhh…” he coos, continuing to make soft clicking noises as he circles his digits around your entrance. “i’ll take care of you. just need to stretch you out first, okay?” 
slowly, he scissors his fingers inside of you, pushing them against your walls. wet sounds fill the still air in the kitchen, mixed with your whispers and his continued efforts to comfort you the best he knew how. losing yourself in pleasure, the ache in your belly begins to build, your legs shaking as your hips begin to buck against him subconsciously. 
“getting excited?” he teases, removing his hands from your core. you whine, a high and embarrassing sound, but you can’t bring yourself to care beyond the disappointment at how empty it feels without his warmth. 
“wait for me, princess.” you hear the sound of haechan fumbling with his belt, the clink of it hitting the floor. and then, you feel something thick and heavy press between your legs, stroking up and down your soaked slit. “first time trying this for me too,” he mumbles, and in the cloudy haze of your mind you register that this truly was the first time haechan was fucking you from the back. 
pulling your hips towards him with a slight roughness, he eases into you. the stretch is delicious, the new angle seemingly allowing him to go deeper, and he lets out a low groan at how your walls seem to suck him in. he thrusts a few times experimentally, making you gasp. which in turn makes him still.
‘everything okay, baby?” 
“yes,” you breathe. when he still doesn’t move, you wiggle your hips again, trying to squeeze around him. “please, please haechan i need you to move-” 
“i got you.” rolling his hips with a slow and steady pace, haechan holds your sides gently. but something about it feels off to even you: there’s something not quite right with the way he’s almost quiet, the desperation that started out this entire night seemingly evaporated. 
haechan continues for only a minute more before he pulls out. 
“i’m sorry, but fuck this,” he all but spits. grabbing your hips roughly, which makes you yelp in surprise, he flips you over and pushes you further up the tabletop. you look up at him — his hair mussed up, his chest heaving, a new aggression to him as he pushes your shirt up to expose your chest. 
bingo. 
hiking your legs up so they hook around his waist, he rams back into you. your back arches with how full you feel, the blunt head of his cock dragging against your walls as he fucks into you. hard. unable to control himself, his mouth practically hangs open as he pants, moans spilling from his mouth easily. 
“need,-” he starts, before quickening his pace even further. “needed to see,-” a hand drops one of your legs, and moves to your back to unclasp your bra. shoving it up so it no longer covers your breasts, a high whine tears from the back of his throat as he sees how each thrust makes your breasts bounce.
something clicks in your head. some mixture of the adrenaline, and how sexy haechan always made you feel judging by how desperate he could get around you, boosted your confidence tenfold. 
bringing your hands to your chest, you cup your breasts with your palms and give them a firm squeeze. the lewdness of it coupled with the stimulation making you arch your back, pushing you into him. 
and haechan cums.  
x
later, with his arms draped around you sleepily, you shift a little in his hold so he opens his eyes to look at you. “about just now…” haechan nods, letting you know you can continue. “so you don’t like it when you can’t see me?” you whisper, not wanting to break the silence and the tenderness that always filled the room on late nights like these. 
he hesitates. “i love everything i do with you” he says, quietly and sincerely. a hand comes up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “you know you’re already perfect to me, right?” 
the comment makes you warm up inside. love was so easy for haechan, and he never failed to remind you of how much he loved you all the time. 
“i know.” you snuggle closer to him. “but i just want to know when it feels just as good for you as it feels for me.” 
he hums in agreement. “maybe…” he bites his lip as he picks out the words in his head. “i think i just like to face you as we’re doing it. i like it when you…” suddenly shy, he nuzzles his face into the pillow a little so the rest of his sentence comes out muffled. “when you ride me, or when i’m on top of you.”
deciding to tease him a little, you add, “and the thing i did with my boobs…?” 
nervously, he blinks at you. “what?” 
“haechan, you came when i started playing with my chest.” 
“i j-just liked seeing you make yourself feel good,” he sits up, flustered. “i don’t-that’s not why i…” 
“okay, okay.” you get up too, leaning against the headboard. reaching out to pat him on the cheek, you feel warmth on your fingertips and decide not to push things further.  
“i just want you to know that if you wanted to try anything, you can just bring it up.” 
“i don’t want…i don’t want to try anything…” he mumbles. in the moonlight, you can see how he’s turned away from you, staring at the clock on your bedside table. 
and suddenly, you know exactly what you want to do. 
“or you can try it when i’m asleep.” 
confusedly, he turns around and blinks at you. “what?” 
“i trust you. i give you full permission to touch me in my sleep. whatever you want.” 
he gapes at you, speechless. you wonder if he’s going to protest again, you wonder if you pushed things too far. 
but something in your proposition must have stirred something in him, because eventually, he settles on asking…
“are you sure?” 
you reach over and take his hand to soothe him. “i’m sure.”
x
“has haechan mentioned anything?” 
you’re videocalling mark again. it had been a full week since you invited haechan to basically do whatever he wanted to you — a full week of staying up late and feeling him slide into bed behind you, waiting for what felt like hours. the most he did was maybe pull you towards him to cuddle, but he always did that. 
but it was also a myriad of little things you began to notice in that week. the way he would kiss you a little harder on days you walked around the house without a bra on. how he liked to hug you with his arms pressed against your upper back, pushing you into him. 
and the little things you began to do instead: wearing lower cut tops around the house, bending over so he could catch an eyeful of your cleavage. but every night, your boyfriend still lay still behind you, and you were beginning to think you had truly pushed things too far.
marks hums in thought. “not really.” he pauses. “actually, he doesn’t even talk about your boobs anymore.” 
“he doesn’t?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. 
“nope.” mark sighs in relief. “i didn’t think the day would ever come. did you finally let him act on it or something?” 
“not really,” you grumble. 
“maybe he’s just marvelling at the freedom he has on which to love on your boobs now,” mark assures you. “i’m sure he’ll figure out what to do soon.” a pause. “sorry, is it just me or is it absurd that i’m comforting you about the fact that surely haechan will be obsessed with your boobs again?” 
“it’s a little absurd,” you concede. “am i setting feminism back by 100 years with my attempts to seduce him?”
“a little bit,” he nods, leaning back in his desk chair. “maybe just 50 years, though.”  
you’re in bed, listening to the sounds of haechan busying himself putting away cutlery in the kitchen drawers. the sound of the tap running when he brushes his teeth and washes his face, the light sounds of his bottles of moisturizer and cream being capped and put away. the low hum of his voice, raspy but sweet as honey, as he mumbles a tune to himself. the click of the light switch as the room is bathed in moonlight. 
your eyes firmly closed, you feel yourself begin to doze off — if he hadn’t made a move, he wasn’t likely going to all of a sudden, right? vaguely, you hear him pad over to the bed in his slippers. 
and then he stops. 
unlike all the other nights before, he doesn’t get in immediately. even with your eyes closed, you can feel him standing there, breathing, taking in the look of you in the moonlight. 
“baby?” haechan calls, softly. 
you stay silent.
“are you still awake?” 
he reaches out a hand, and shakes you gently. you make your body go as limp as possible, keeping your breathing steady. 
“y/n?” he tries again. still nothing. 
after another pause, the bed dips as his weight settles in behind you. minutes pass, before you feel his hands come to your waist. they remain there for a while, and you can almost imagine him in the dark — pupils blown out, biting his lip. just wondering. after what feels like years, the sheets rustle as his arms wrap around you, and he pulls you into his chest. 
slowly, incrementally, you feel his hands begin to slide under your shirt. his fingertips are cool against your hot skin, fluttering with a slight nervousness, and you know it’s because he’s afraid to wake you with heavier touches. higher and higher up, his palms snake their way past your stomach, until they reach the underside of your breasts. 
another pause. 
and then, his hands slide up, the drag of it heavier this time, until he has a boob held carefully in each palm. 
you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat thundering in your chest. there’s something about all of this occurring in the dark, and in complete silence, which makes you hyper-attuned to him: the slight twitch of his fingers from his nervousness, his erratic breathing on the back of your neck. 
you feel him tense his fingers a few times, if anything, getting a feel of the soft flesh. and then, he carefully tightens his hold, squeezing each breast cupped in his palm — lightly, almost guiltily at first. as if he can’t believe he’s really doing this. you can hardly believe he’s really doing this. 
“fuck”, you hear him breathe. he squeezes harder.
his movements gentle, and barely noticeable with how slow they are, he begins to roll each 
breast in his palm. “so soft…” he breathes, and bounces them experimentally, feeling them move under his touch.
trailing his fingers inwards, he touches your nipples lightly, before rolling them between index finger and thumb, letting out a groan when he finds them grow stiff and hard. feeling around your areolae, he pinches at the skin. 
when he shifts behind you, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your lower back. 
his soft mutters and swears make you want to flip over and force his head into your chest, where you know he’ll only do better with his lips and teeth and tongue. but something about his warm palms, his fingers pushing and kneading and rolling, swiping in your cleavage, are so calming and loving that it starts to lull you to sleep. 
the last thing you register is his one of his hands leaving your chest, and the wet sounds of haechan fucking into his fist. 
x
haechan thinks he’s lost his mind. 
he used to be able to hide it. he used to be fine with glancing at you, habitually flickering his eyes to your chest when you would walk into the room or snuggling up to him. but now he’s totally fucked, because he thinks he’s developed some sort of addiction. 
he can’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep without reaching over to touch your breasts, and thumb at your nipples. his mind keeps trailing back to thoughts of going further, of kissing your chest, of sucking on your pretty tits and watching your nipples stiffen and harden because of him. 
and he thinks he’s beyond help when he finds himself standing over your open drawer, feeling himself grow hard as he bends down to run his fingers over your collection of bras, brassiere, and lingerie. 
because admittedly, ever since mark tipped you off, you had been stocking up on the pretty fabrics, testing out padded and non-padded ones, choosing colors you know haechan liked to see you in, materials like mesh and lace and cotton. 
his fingers rub against a soft, satin-y material, and he pulls it out. it’s light blue and flimsy, opening in the front, and from the way he’s memorized you through touch alone he knows it will barely cover your chest. it was a piece that would tease him more than anything, and he imagines the satin rubbing against his face, you pushing your chest into him as he unclasps it, watching the fabric fall away from your pretty breasts as you expose yourself to him. 
he can’t help himself, as he falls backwards onto the bed, scrambling so he can sit against the headboard. tugging his pants down with a movement that is too practiced, feeling his hard cock slap up against his stomach. too hurried to get any lube or lotion, scared you’ll come back from grocery shopping to find him like this, he spits into his hand and immediately starts fisting his length, the other still clinging onto your bra. he lets out a sigh of relief, his pants slowing down as he strokes himself. 
spreading the satin out on the bed, he lets his eyes fall to it as his hand speeds up. he wonders how he can request for you to wear it, and send him a picture. maybe he could put it at the very top of your pile of underwear, so you would see it. the color of it would look so pretty against your skin, would look so pretty in your mouth, would look so pretty if he… 
and then he’s grabbing the material, still soft and silky to touch, and now he’s stroking his cock with it, and the feeling makes him gasp, his hips fucking up into his fist, legs planted on the bed so he can thrust his hips up harder. the light blue, delicate material, looks obscene against the bright red of his cock. 
he teases a finger over his slit and he whines, higher than he had ever heard himself. his chest heaving, he imagines you finding him, sitting on the bed, fucking himself into your bra, practically cumming at the thought of nuzzling his face into your boobs. he thinks of what you would say. 
or maybe you would get on top of him like you do, splitting yourself open on his cock as your tits bounce with each of your movements. 
he finishes to the thought of that, cumming straight into the material of your bra. the shame doesn’t hit him until after, when he’s trying to wash the stains out of it, a bright red that starts in his stomach and burns through his neck, cheeks, and ears. he’s silent all through dinner, faces away from you at night. 
but he can’t deny the thought that he wanted to do it again. and maybe all the other things he fantasized about. but how would he ever be able to tell you now?
x
the morning of your anniversary was when you decided this had to stop. all the teasing had begun to backfire, because having haechan’s hands on you every night — especially on the nights you had trouble sleeping, were making you need him badly. and he didn’t have a clue. 
haechan had woken up, kissed you on the cheek and wished you a happy anniversary, before heading to the kitchen. sitting on the edge of your bed, you thought hard about what exactly you should tell him — whether you should bring up the fact that mark was the reason all of this even happened, if you should tell him you had been teasing him, or that you had been awake on all those nights. 
suddenly, it seemed to add up to quite a lot of manipulation and lying. you felt a bit nervous. 
walking to the kitchen, you enter just in time to see him finish preparing the ingredients for the romantic breakfast he had planned. sweeping them into bowls lined up neatly on the countertop, he turns and smiles at the sight of you, standing there timidly in the entryway. 
“what’s wrong, love?” he comes over to you, draping his arms over your hips. “is everything okay?” 
swaying slightly, you look into his eyes, so full of love, and know that you can’t keep anything from him. and also that you weren’t brave enough to do it right then and there. “haechan?” 
“mmhm?” 
you hesitate. “i’m… i’m going to take a shower.” 
laughing slightly, he tilts his head to the side. “o…kay?” 
“do you want to join me?” you say in a breath.
you watch as the words hit him. slowly, he blinks at you, before he swallows, his throat bobbing. “really? that won’t make you uncomfortable?” 
“yes,” you breathe. “i want to.” 
it takes a few more assurances from you before haechan agrees, holding on to your hand as the two of you step into the bathroom. he waits for you to undress first, looking away politely as you get in the shower, before he undresses and steps in after you. as the hot water cascades over you, the steam beginning to make the air heavy, he kisses your shoulder gently before turning you around so your back is facing him. 
“i’ll wash your back for you,” he says, kindly. you hear him uncap the shower gel, and slowly start to scrub at your back lightly with the loofah. sometime between turning around and him washing your back, he’s turned off the water, and there aren’t any sounds except for foam and soap moving against skin. 
“haechan?” 
“yes?” 
you turn around. haechan lifts the loofah away from your skin and looks at you, curiously. 
“what’s wrong?” 
“wash my front for me.” 
he bites his lip, before nodding. 
“okay.” 
he starts at your shoulders, down to your collarbones, working small circles into your skin. when he reaches the top of your chest, where the swell of your breasts begins, he hesitates again, lifting the loofah from your skin so his hand hovers between the two of you. you decide that now was a good a time as ever. 
“haechan…” you reach out and take his hand. and he looks so nervous, his breaths coming in quicker, his eyes darting between yours and your interlocked hands, that it makes you want to delay for just a little bit longer. 
“haechan, you do know that it feels good when you touch my chest, don’t you?” 
“what?” he stares at you. he seemed like he was hardly breathing. 
“i may have been awake a few of the nights in these past two weeks,” you say, slowly, before looking him in the face again. “you left me feeling really needy, you know that?” 
“sorry,” he apologises reflexively, before stopping as the words register in his head. “so, it…doesn’t make you…uncomfortable?” 
“no.” 
slowly, he nods, and then he adds, “you’re not weirded out?” 
“no,” you shake your head patiently. “it’s the opposite of all that. i love it when you touch me there.” 
“yeah?” he breathes, and you watch as his eyes darken just slightly, his chest falling and rising at a slightly quicker rate. and then he’s dropping the loofah, his hands going to your waist as he kisses you, hard. backing you up against the shower wall, he continues to kiss you feverishly as his hands go to the slope of your shoulders, trailing down your front until they cup your breasts, the movement so practiced and fluid that you don’t have the time to catch your breath. 
“always,” he gasps, “wanted to do this,” he moans into your mouth as he plays with your nipples, stroking them, his hands still slippery with soap. 
his movements jerky and disjointed, he turns the water back on so that it runs over the two of you, dousing your chest with warm water so that it’s slippery to touch, and if possible they feel even squishier and softer in his hold. groaning, he pushes his head into your neck as he squeezes them in his firm grip. 
“haechan,” you whine, his hands on you, and the desperation in his rough actions making you need him even more. 
he doesn’t bother to respond, shoving his knee between your legs to knock them apart and letting you grind on his thigh. its the way the movement is meant to placate you, as if he was too busy with your breasts to even pay attention to you, that makes it even more satisfying to grind down on him. 
“can i,” he gasps, breaking away from you. somehow already fucked out even though all he’s done is touch you, he pleads with you with his eyes. unable to catch his breath, he stutters out, “c-can i please, please, suck them?” 
you curse, but he seems to take it negatively. gulping, he begins to move away from you, his hands trembling, but your desperation overtakes you. 
grabbing his head by his hair, you pull his face towards your chest. and now it’s your turn to beg. 
“please,” you rasp, and that’s all you have to say because immediately his lips latch onto your right nipple, a whine sounding from him high and drawn out. swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, his other hand goes to your neglected breast, rolling the other nipple with his thumb and forefinger. all the while, his hips grind mindlessly, his hard cock rubbing against your upper thigh, spilling precum all over your skin that’s washed away just as quickly. 
haechan is in seventh heaven. he thinks he could spend forever like this, suckling on your tits, fucking into your thighs, listening to your pretty gasps and sighs. all the embarrassment from before has melted away, and all that’s left is his desire to touch and to taste, knowing that it brought you as much pleasure as it did for him. 
“eager baby,” you coo affectionately, trying to keep your voice level. with a feeling of elation, watching him grind against your skin and suckle at you as if he was a baby, you realise that you’ve done it: he’s lost all semblance of control. “do you think you could cum like this?” 
haechan moans, and the sound is beautifully crude as it echoes against the bathroom tiles. open-mouthed and panting, he whines again as he switches to another breast, both hands leaving your chest in favor of tugging at his neglected cock. 
and suddenly, you know just what he needs. 
“stop,” you tell him, but it’s not convincing enough — the sight of him, and stimulation from your chest, affecting you way too much. he ignores you, continuing to slobber over you, licking at the crevice between your boobs. 
“stop,” you insist, pushing him away this time. even as he breaks apart from you, his movements halting, his eyes are still trained on your breasts, watching the streams of water slide down them, dripping off of you, as if in a trance. 
reaching behind him to turn off the water, you open the shower door. haechan blinks a few times, the dissipating steam slowly clearing the air of the tension, and clearing the fog in his head too. 
“y/n,” he swallows. “i need you, please-” 
“you’ll have me,” you assure him, grabbing a towel as you lead him out of the en-suite bathroom, and over to your bed. “i just know you’ll really like this, so trust me, okay?” 
“okay,” he breathes, coming to stand between your legs as you sit on the edge of the bed. 
“and-” you point at him. “you need to calm down, okay?” 
looking wounded, haechan practically whimpers, reaching for your chest. 
“it’s not that i don’t like you eager,” you say, hurriedly. “i just want you to enjoy this for longer, okay?” 
he nods. 
a smile tugs at your lips. is this how he usually felt like? watching you dumb and desperate for him? 
“words,” you tease. 
“okay,” he says softly. “i’ll try.” 
“good job, baby,” you reach up to pat him on the cheek, before turning to grab a bottle of lotion that always stood on your bedside table. lying on your back, you motion for him to come over to you. he hovers obediently, sitting on his heels. 
uncapping the lotion, you take one of his hands and squeeze out a generous amount onto his palm. 
“spread it out over my chest,” you tell him, patiently. his lips part, and he’s about to surge towards you, so you place a hand on his arm. “slowly.” 
he swallows. he takes a breath. and then he’s spreading the lotion onto his palms, and as he promised, he slowly places them on your chest and begins to apply it onto your skin. his eyes glaze over as he swipes them under your boobs, rubbing into your cleavage, smearing it in circular motions closer to your nipples. even though you enjoy his touch, and you know he’s enjoying himself too, you motion for him to stop. 
slowly, carefully, you place both hands on the sides of your boobs. haechan’s eyes widen almost comically, and you look at him sternly, reminding him to keep it together. you squeeze them together, creating a tight passage between them where your cleavage is. 
“okay,” you breathe. “now fuck them.” 
haechan’s eyes, which have been fixating on your chest the whole time, flicker up to yours in confusion. 
“baby,” you try again, “here. in between my boobs.” 
haechan had never seemed to hear of the concept. finding the words, he splutters out, “what? how? do i really-” he stares at you, again, before the arousal seems to wind him over and he shuffles up to straddle your stomach. you see his thighs trembling as his large hands cover yours, squeezing your breasts together with more force. the blunt head of his cock makes contact your boobs, and he whimpers, before slotting it in the valley of your breasts, and thrusting forwards. 
you remove your hands, seeming to give him total control, when really he’s lost it all completely. 
his mouth hangs open as he lets out moan after moan, thrusting harder and harder into the tight passage. “fuck,” he gasps, going to stroke your nipples as he raises himself slightly, the need to fuck your tits harder and faster driving his hips forward and making him almost lose balance. strings of curses and nonsensical rambles fall from his puffy lips as he chases his high, wanting to enjoy it for longer but also wanting to cum. 
the sight of him, flushed and panting, holding onto your chest as if for dear life, is enough to satiate you for a little while, but soon the wetness between your thighs and throbbing of your clit feels too much to handle on your own.
“baby,” you breathe, “do you want to-” 
but at the petname, haechan lets out one high whine, and cums — all over your chest, up to your neck and chin and some even dribbling onto your face. all the while, he continues to fuck into your chest, until the stimulation is too much for him and he falls back on his heels, needing to get away. 
there’s a pause. 
his heaves and pants filling the room, he sits on the bed resting on his elbows. you’re a little winded too, but you don’t know what from. it takes him a while to calm down, even after you clean yourself up and pull him towards you to cuddle, him laying a hand on your boob the entire time. 
finally, his head seems to clear and he comes back to himself. looking at you carefully, he furrows his brow. 
“so that day with the turtleneck…” 
“yeah,” you say, feeling a little shy. you can’t believe he remembered something so far back. 
“and the photo of you in the bra…” 
“i thought you’d like it,” you offer, and he laughs at that. before he pauses, and really looks at you. 
“and you haven’t cum at all today, haven’t you sweetheart?” 
“not yet,” you breathe. 
happy fucking anniversary.
taglist: @matchahyuck , @kpopwh0r3 read part 2 here <3
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xrenjunniesx · 2 months
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Can I request nct dream reaction to reader calling them their husband?💕 but they aren’t married
when you called them your husband but you aren’t married
fiancé!nct dream
reader is referred to as wife in jaemin’s.
mark
“hey husband! do your job right!”
you were only messing with him, but god did he love it. he is looking at you with wide eyes. he was just trying to help cook food with your mother as the rest of your family was all waiting at the table.
everyone laughed at your words but mark is biting his lip to try and NOT blush even more. you notice it and when everyone looked away, you gave him a peck on the cheek. he looks at you, eyes filled with love for you. his puckers his lips for you and you giggle, giving him a short but sweet kiss.
renjun
you sent him a text, a sweet little “quit being mean and get me an ice cream too! you’re meant to be my husband.”
he is willing to buy you the whole ice cream shop for you the second he read that message. he is all smiles the whole way home, even as he opens the door and sees you glaring in his direction, waiting for the ice cream. he holds out the ice cream and refuses to give it to you.
“call me husband again and I’ll give you it.”
jeno
he opened the jar for you, all the while you held his biceps and looked up at him with a dreamy look making him laugh at you for the silly act.
“thank you my sweet husband.” you say letting go of him and continuing on with the cooking. he steps back and is smiling at the back of your head, feeling all giddy just from hearing you say that. he wraps his arms around your waist and back hugs you, pressing himself against you and resting his chin on your shoulder, his smile never leaving his face.
haechan
“this is my husband, haechan.”
his is screaming inside. eyes wide for a split second before he is quickly putting an arm around your waist to try and compose himself and he greets your friend who you hadn’t seen since high school. he is one hundred percent blushing and you don’t even notice his reaction.
when you two are walking away, he presses a kiss to your cheek “I didn’t realise we already got married?” he teased, making you realise what you said and blush at the remark.

jaemin
he was taking photos of the scenery when he heard you from behind him, talking to someone who had asked you what he was doing. “my husband takes really good photos so he is opening an exhibition. he is just gathering extra photos.”
he isn’t able to focus for the next few minutes, too busy giggling and smiling to himself. he packs up his camera and equipment, making his way back to you with the grin still placed across his face.
he pulls you into his arms for a brief hug before you two walk off to the next location. It’s silent for a bit before he says, “I want to take photos of my beautiful wife next, you’re a perfect model.” he says it so casually just as you did, you almost missed it.
chenle
“-and chenle, he is my husband.”
that’s all he paid attention too and that’s all he needed to hear. he immediately hung up the phone call he was having with jisung and looked your way. he doubts you even realised what you said because you’re acting so causal. normally you would’ve looked his way with a teasing grin. the thought of you actually considering him your husband already has him feeling even more giddy.
when you walk up to him after realising he was staring at you, he grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, placing kisses on your lips.
“I’m your husband, huh?” he teased.
jisung
he was SHOCKED. like he knows that you already have the wedding booked and everything was planned out. BUT WOAH! he is so happy that you’re just as excited to get married as he is, so excited that you’re already referring to him as your husband. he approaches you and drapes his arms over your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head as you try to look back at him.
“you should keep calling me husband, I like it.” “what do you call me then?” “love, my everything, sweetheart-“ the list goes on, he is saying everything that comes to mind.
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ooshu · 10 months
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falling in love with haechan wasn’t planned.
it started with a walk on that friday night after your long work shift. he was waiting for you. hell, he wasn’t even from around. but he stood there with a chinese takeout in one hand. “breathe a little!”, the enthusiastic one exclaimed. he didn’t like seeing you frown and knowing you haven’t smiled even just a bit for a day. and so you nodded. haechan swore he was head-over-heels.
as haechan kept asking from “how was your day today?”, “does your boss treat you well?” to “did you have lunch?”, the question suddenly escalated to:
“would you go out with someone like me?”
“huh?”, you might have heard differently because the silly boy beside you started to eat his food.
haechan chewed his food fast so he could repeat: “i said… would you go out with someone like me…?”
you hit his arm playfully. “ah, what are you talking about, haech?”
“i mean… hypothetically speaking. would you go out with a haechan?”
“with a haechan?” you furrowed your eyebrows. oh, what a silly man.
“yes, with a haechan. i stand out from the rest, you know?” he nudged you on the shoulders. “you’d be lucky to end up someone like me.”
“you’re so full of shit, haech.”
“willing to be cheesy and anything for you.”, he winked.
so he tossed his empty food into the nearest bin. then there was this silence, a complete total silence as you two continued walking. but it was so nice, so pleasant. it just felt so right. it felt so fitting that it scared you that you wanted to feel the warmth of his body. there’s this strong urge to bury your head in his chest. falling in love was an unfamiliar, frightening feeling. it consumes you to the bone. oh, how clueless the boy beside you was.
and loving a haechan, you cursed cupid for hitting the wrong person with his lovestruck arrow. because he is like this to everyone—so lovingly, so sweet, so reliable, to the point you’ve been confused about where to draw the line between being friends and potential lovers.
but you slowly started reaching for his hand. it looked really soft. you wanted to grab it and interlock your fingers with his and say, “yes, i would go out with someone like you, haech.” and—
suddenly you curled your fist into a ball and pulled out when a honk of a car suddenly was heard. you came back to your senses.
haechan noticed. just so you wish he didn’t.
-
“i’ll take you home.”
“no? you’ve already taken me into the bus shed, haech.”, you insisted. “you promised you wouldn’t go further.”
“but what if someone takes you?”
“haech-”
“…from me?”
fuck. you thought. here he goes again. but you shrugged it off with a laugh. but haechan loved it on you, when you wear it—your smile. and his heart would burst to know your smile was because of him.
the bus arrived and he let you get on first. but you knew haechan liked taking the window seat, so you let him be.
you sat together. he was watching the cars passing by along with the skyscrapers shining at night. would it be unrealistic to dream of someone, you, as high as these buildings?, he wonders. then you looked at him, carefully admiring his sde features. memorizing every line and shape; how his lips would slightly pucker and the bridge of his nose you’d always want to trace and pinch. and little did you know he was watching you from the reflection of the window.
and when he tilted his head back at the front, you steered yours away. but your eyes fell down and roamed around until you see his hand over his bag. haechan looked at you, and he started slightly tapping his fingers on the leather. you wanted to reach for them again but… but—
then you made it less obvious as possible to go back looking at his face, but you couldn’t as your head tries its best to look forward. so your sight landed as farther as this: the crook of his neck, his shoulder blades you would want to lean onto. it’s sad to say your heart absentmindedly made haechan your home, your comfort, your confidant, even though he wasn’t yours.
so you came back to your senses once again. you leaned your head backward fell onto the back of the seat and sighed. you watched the people in front of you as they ride forwards.
and suddenly, haechan reached for your hand and interlocked it with yours.
you looked at him dumbfoundedly; almost taken aback.
then he slowly reached for your head and leaned it on his shoulders. you thought it was a bit uncomfortable so you said, “it’s okay, haech.” because instead, you wanted to nuzzle your head at the crook of his neck. but you believed you weren’t going to fit in, just like the two of you, which you believed. he’s still holding your hand though. so firm yet so soft, how could it this paradox be possible?
so haechan let go of your hand.
you almost yearned for the touch. god, the loss was so overwhelming, you could almost cry. you were dangerously so drawn to haechan, the thought of it would make you flinch. you had to go away. i have to go away. you reiterated at the back of your mind. god, please, help me. how cruel must you become?
but then he wrapped the same arm around your shoulders and enveloped you with his body. he adjusted his body down so your head would lay on the crook of his neck.
and just like that, you surrender.
and nothing haechan would want in this world but to wish this bus wouldn’t stop driving.
it’s okay to fall in love with me, love.
-
happy birthday, donghyuck lee.
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chaerryeoniis · 1 year
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one, two, three | l.dh
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genre ❥ highschool au, best friends to lovers, rom-com
pairings ❥ nerd! donghyuck x cheerleader! reader
word count ❥19.0k (my longest fic ever can you believe it)
synopsis ❥ In which you devise three different ways to get your best friend to fall in love with you, but things never really go quite as planned.
warnings ❥ none! it’s tooth-rotting fluff. the both of them might be a bit frustrating at times but this might be my favourite haechan out of all my fics so far :)
info ❥ please let me know what you think about the individual scenes. also i let myself go a little crazy over the entire running theme of literature and little women in this one
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“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any unattached high schooler in possession of decent grades, must be in want of a relationship.”
The way Karina says it confidently amuses and impresses you in equal measure, but Ningning only scoffs. “That is most definitely not what Austen wrote. Don’t let Mrs Kim hear that.”
Mrs Kim is the literature teacher for your entire level, a kindly woman in her fifties who’s lenient with assignments. You think she’s much too passionate about classics to be stuck teaching a few hundred teenagers who can barely comprehend the intricacies of classical writing, but life has a funny way of putting people in places they’re not meant to be.
Besides you, of course. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. The first table from the left of the canteen, nearest to the food line, and directly under the air-conditioning. It’s also exclusively reserved for the cheer team, while the opposite is for the rugby team.
You never thought you would subscribe to something as ridiculous as a canteen seating hierarchy, but you’ll gladly reap the benefits.
One thing that might be nice, however, is if the meal options were improved. You’re not sure how well pasta salad and a carton of lukewarm milk is supposed to sustain you the entire day, but it’ll have to do for now.
Maybe you’ll drag Donghyuck for a ramen run later. Speaking of which.
“Have any of you seen Donghyuck?” you ask, and there’s a chorus of shaking heads from the rest of the team, before Ningning pouts, looking at you. “Him again? You’re always asking about Donghyuck,” she teases, and you roll your eyes. “That’s because I can never find him,” you mutter, before putting down your cutlery. There’s no longer much of an appetite, especially when you have more important things to do.
When you stand up, Karina raises an eyebrow, and you grin. “I’ll be right back.”
The din from the canteen becomes softer once the glass doors close behind you. Your sneakers are squeaking against the shiny floor, noticeably conspicuous due to the silence. There’s only one place even quieter than the hallways during lunch break, and it’s like there’s a direct path guiding you to Donghyuck.
When you spot a familiar bag resting on the floor, you smile. “Bingo.”
It takes less than ten seconds for you to reach Donghyuck’s desk, and another five for him to realise you’re standing there, hands resting on your hips. He blinks, before setting the book in his hands down gently. “Oh, hey. Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the empty space opposite.
The boy’s dressed in his usual black hoodie and ripped jeans, white reading glasses resting gently on his nose. He had picked them out a few years ago in a shop, after you had finally convinced him to do something about his color vision. The glasses suit him more than you expect, and it’s refreshing seeing them compared to his usual preference of contact lenses.
You slide into the booth opposite until you’re facing him, chin in hand. “You’re reading on lunch break?”
He sets down the book the moment you sit down, pushing away his things to make space for your elbows.
Donghyuck’s the epitome of a model student to you, considering his stellar grades and position as president of student council. It’s not in a way that’s overbearing, but rather plain and simple - the boy is just more intelligent and capable than the majority of people in his age group.
Still, reading on lunch break seems like a bit of an anomaly, considering he likes food as much as you do.
“I’ve got a council meeting after school, but I need to finish this reading for English. Which is why I’m slaving away,” he sighs out, and you look away, humming in thought. “Need me to get you food? I was going to ask you out for a ramen run, but I guess you can’t do that now.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m good,” he assures, and you arch an eyebrow.
“You sure?” You’re looking at him intently now, voice distrusting. Donghyuck looks as if he’s hesitating.
“Gimbap…would be nice,” he admits, and you smile triumphantly. “Got it.” There’s a perk in your step as you rise from the table and tell him you’ll be right back.
By the time you buy it and deliver it to him, the bell rings, and you’re left saying a quick goodbye before Donghyuck rushes off. It’s harder seeing him when he gets busy, but you chalk it down to the fact that during slower months, an inordinate amount of your time is spent with Donghyuck.
And when you finally finish cheer practice in the evening, you notice a plastic bag resting next to your backpack. Opening it makes you grin slightly, immediately seeing one pack of your favourite ramen and a marinated egg, along with iced coffee.
“Who’s that from?” Karina asks, and you grin slightly.
“Donghyuck.”
You can’t hide the smile on your face when you say it.
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The first time Donghyuck got a job, he couldn’t shut up about it.
It’s funny the more he thinks about it, considering it wasn’t even really an actual one - his mother had offered two dollars an hour for him to make sure the dog didn’t trample on her precious flowers.
But for twelve-year-old him, it seemed like the most daunting, impressive task he had been given, one that he was determined to embark on with fervour.
It took less than four days before he realised how aimless it was, and spent more time sitting on the porch with his Switch when his mother wasn’t looking.
But Donghyuck supposes he doesn’t particularly regret taking on the below-minimum-wage job, not when it allowed him to meet you.
“Is this your dog?”
Donghyuck checks twice to make sure his game progress is saved before looking up, only to be greeted by the sight of a girl no older than he is, hair tied in a neat ponytail and a white sundress reaching down to your knees. “Um, yeah,” he mutters, voice not unfriendly but awkward in the way that most boys his age are.
He may be extroverted, but Donghyuck quite literally has no idea who you are, considering he’s never seen you in school. Besides, the only person he’s interacted with all this summer is Jaemin, who occasionally invites him over to play Super Smash Bros. “What’s her name?”
“Bambi.”
You wrinkle your nose at his reply. “Why would you name your dog after another animal?”
His posture straightens imperceptibly, somehow feeling the need to defend himself against your judgement.
“Why not?” He challenges, watching as you hesitate slightly, before seeming to acquiesce, giving Bambi a few affectionate pats on the head. At your silence, Donghyuck sets his gaming console down, elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward.
“What’s your name then?”
You look at him, as if almost surprised at the boy’s curiosity. “Y/N. L/N Y/N. I just moved into the house next to yours,” you reply, Bambi now sitting obediently next to your shoes.
Donghyuck’s not sure whether to be disappointed that your name isn’t weird, but instead very pretty. The syllables are unfamiliar, but they roll off his tongue nicely.
He’s not sure if you’re as fascinated by his name as he is yours - Donghyuck isn’t a particularly unique name, but he can’t stop himself from practising calling yours, until even his mother notices it at dinner.
That summer, you spent a lot of time with Donghyuck - the heatwaves kept most people inside and there weren’t many places a twelve-year-old could go on their own. You quickly got used to stuffy afternoons spent in his living room playing card games, or having Donghyuck attempt baking cookies with you in the kitchen.
And when the holiday ended, heralded by the beginning of autumn, you found yourself still sticking to Donghyuck, even as the both of you navigated a new school year and branched out into different friend groups.
Six years later, the both of you were still side-by-side, even as other classmates came and went and your sixth-grade school uniforms gave way to a lax high school dress code.
On the brighter side, Donghyuck’s area of employment has improved - he’s now making much more than minimum wage helping to transcribe songs for a local indie label, and it’s a job that he enjoys plenty, considering how he’s allowed to take home a few extra albums each month that don’t sell.
It also helps that the employee benefits are good, and the manager, Johnny, is pretty chill with whatever Donghyuck does as long as it’s not a direct violation of company policy. He suspects it’s because the man grew up in Chicago, and is long used to troublemakers. Here, Donghyuck’s job is simple - to help make good music, and he’s fulfilling it to the best of his ability.
You find Donghyuck in his usual position at the counter, headphones over his head and an unplaceable tune escaping from his pursed lips. His fingers are drumming to an invisible rhythm that you can’t hear, but you watch him with a fond smile on your face anyways.
He’s only played snippets of his own work here and there for you, but the boy’s talent is undeniable. Still, Donghyuck only casts you an indulgent look of appreciation each time you tell him he’s just as capable of starting a career as the artists he’s helping.
You don’t tell him that you secretly think he’s even better and would buy his records over anyone’s any day.
When you tap his shoulder, Donghyuck spins around in his chair, hand placed over his heart for theatrical effect. “You scared me,” he says, and you only grin. “Came to drop off the stuff you needed.”
He takes the bag from you, peering inside before looking back up and smiling gratefully. “You’re an actual lifesaver,” he gushes as he takes out the extra discs and a badly-needed charger, along with a change of clothes.
“I know,” you reply smugly, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. He’s already used to the back-and-forth bickering between the both of you, but he’s thankful nonetheless, knowing that you must have dropped whatever task you were busy with to rush down to the store.
Until your phone buzzes, and you pick it up with a concerned glance, wincing apologetically as you gather your things. “Sorry. Karina called an emergency meeting. I’ll see you after work?”
Donghyuck nods, watching as you shove your phone into your tote bag. Right as you turn to leave, however, he places a hand on your elbow, halting your steps.
It’s only then that he notices the claw clip in your hair, a transparent one with little flowers dotted throughout. He doesn’t usually see you with your bangs pushed back, not since middle school, when your mom forced you to get that one bad haircut.
But it looks much better now, and Donghyuck finds his throat turning dry at the sight of you, before he remembers what he had planned to do.
Being the naturally affectionate person he is, Donghyuck has placed soft pecks on your cheek before, often followed up by you quickly shoving him away. But he hasn’t done it for almost a year, for the sole reason that if he allows himself to kiss you on the cheek, he might just want more.
He’s not sure what it means, the way his heart strangely twists each time he looks at you, in a way that’s both pleasurable and painful. It started when you had ditched practice to accompany him on the school rooftop, just to listen to him complain about the new student council treasurer.
The way you had thrown your head back and laughed at his never-ending rant, elbows linked with him as you swung your feet over the edge, taking a sip of the strawberry yoghurt drink shared between the both of you.
Donghyuck doesn’t even remember what he was angry at Jisung for, only that you looked extra pretty that day.
And it’s moments like this where he wants to kiss you even more, and he can’t be bothered to try and hold himself back any longer.
To his surprise, however, you don’t react with your usual expression of disgust, instead remaining silent, your wide-eyed expression searing itself into his mind. It fills him with a quiet, brimming sort of anticipation, and he swears your gaze darts to his lips, just briefly. Maybe if his kiss just shifts a few inches over-
Donghyuck’s train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the door opening, signalling a customer. You quickly pull back, and he tries not to make his irritation at the disturbance too obvious.
“I should go,” you say to no one in particular, before grabbing your tote bag and rushing through the glass doors of the store, the bell signalling your departure. He finds himself smiling at your frazzled state, and wondering if it means something. If it means that he might have a chance, no matter how minuscule.
He doesn’t even realise the corners of his lips are tilted up, until Johnny comes out from the storeroom, the new equipment balanced in his arms.
“Did something good happen? You look pleased,” the taller man comments, looking over at Donghyuck who runs his thumb over the tote bag you left for him.
The younger boy only grins in response, a sort of plaintive expression on his face as he casts a longing glance at the door where you had just been moments ago.
“Yeah. I guess you can say that.”
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The realisation hits you at nine on a Friday evening, and it’s surprisingly easy to swallow. You’re going to fail math.
You shove the textbooks in the corner of your shelf, vowing to never pick them up again. However, the exam date that sits on your calendar circled in red serves as a reminder that you’ll likely have to take your words back soon, if not immediately.
When the doorbell rings, it’s the perfect distraction for you.
Spending time with Donghyuck at the end of each week has quickly become a welcome respite from the monotony of school, and you’re buzzing with excitement as you rush down the stairs.
“I’m not sure why you still ring the doorbell, considering you just come in by yourself,” you say, as you pour the popcorn out into a bowl and hand it to him. Donghyuck shrugs. “Courtesy. Just in case you need time to hide a dead body or something. What movie are we watching today?”
A grin makes its way onto your face at the question, and Donghyuck’s eyes flood with suspicion before he lets out a groan of exasperation. “Do you not get tired of watching it?”
You shake your head, smiling. It’s the sixth time you’ve made him watch Little Women, and despite the fact that Donghyuck doesn’t take literature, you think he might be starting to grow partial to the movie.
It’s coming close to midnight by the time the end credits roll, and your bowl of popcorn lies empty on the table.
“I still think Jo and Laurie are meant to be, by the way,” he points out, and you whip your head towards him indignantly from where you’re seated on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. “You’re wrong,” you retort. Despite the late hour, both of you are surprisingly alert. You from the two coffees, and Donghyuck because- well, he pretty much survives on three hours a day.
“But he’s just settling for Amy.”
“Amy makes Laurie a better person, that’s why they’re together. Jo and Laurie would never work out. They’re meant to be best friends, not lovers,” you explain, watching as Donghyuck’s expression shifts to something unreadable.
“But there’s so much passion between the both of them. Don’t you-” he mutters, before leaning over, “-want something like that?”
His question weighs heavy on your mind as he moves closer, until the both of you are a hair’s breadth away from each other.
The sudden loss of distance between you and Donghyuck makes your breath hitch, the air charged with an unfamiliar tension, one that leaves your heart racing. You have no idea what it is, other than the fact that Donghyuck is much too close for comfort. He looks almost disappointed when you stand up abruptly, narrowly avoiding spilling the drink in your hand.
“I- I’m going to get more snacks,” you stutter out, barely gathering your composure before you rush off to the kitchen. When you’re inside, however, you quickly place your hands over your cheeks, eyes widening in alarm when you realise they’re warm.
You’re blushing. For some god-awful reason, being with Donghyuck has made your heart rate speed up and your face flush, which can only mean one thing.
You’ve fallen sick.
There’s only another possible alternative, and you really don’t want to consider the implications of that.
“Y/N.”
At the sound of your name, you turn around, the perfect image of a deer caught in headlights. It’s only then that you notice Donghyuck’s dressed in a loose band tee and sweatpants.
It’s an outfit that you’ve seen him wear a thousand times, and yet, you can feel a nervous lump form in your throat at the sight of him.
“You were taking really long in the kitchen. Is something wrong?” he asks, eyes curious as he looks at you.
Your mouth feels like it’s full of sand as you struggle to find the words to explain. “I- I think I’m sick.”
At that statement, concern becomes apparent on Donghyuck’s face as he strides over to you, placing a hand gently on your forehead to track your temperature. The sensation of his palm against your forehead floods you with regret, however, for the sole reason that you feel like you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.
“Your temperature feels fine. Do you feel unwell anywhere?” he questions insistently, but you’re too dazed as you continue to lean against the kitchen island, the marble cold against your back.
You need to get out of this situation. Immediately. You duck abruptly, Donghyuck’s palm falling from your forehead to his side.
“I just remembered I have an assignment I need to rush,” you hastily blurt, and he makes a confused face at your change of topic, before shrugging. “I can help you,” he suggests, and you shake your head aggressively at that.
“It’s okay. I’m really good at math.”
You’re lying. It’s a blatant lie, and from the way that Donghyuck stares at you, you know he knows that it’s absolute nonsense. But he seems to relent, perhaps due to your frazzled appearance.
“Okay. Take some Panadol or something if you’re not feeling well. I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Yeah. See you,” you breathe out, watching as he turns away and exits the kitchen.
The front door clicks shut reassuringly a few moments later, and you let yourself sink to the floor in relief.
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Donghyuck doesn’t message you for the rest of the night, something that you’re grateful for. Despite his physical absence, however, the boy resolutely refuses to leave your mind, even as you force yourself to clean up the coffee table and return the snacks to their designated places on the pantry shelf.
It’s only when you’re standing over the sink, red popcorn bowl between your two hands, that your cheeks darken again at the thought of him moving closer to you, eyes searching yours in the darkness of the room.
The both of you have had hundreds of movie nights at this point, the catalogue almost emptied and favourite movies repeated over and over again. Like how the both of you always force each other to watch The Conjuring on Halloween, Donghyuck still screaming at each jumpscare despite how he knows what's coming. The end of the midterms means watching The Kissing Booth, even if you poke fun at him for it.
You don’t mind repeating them over and over again, because it’s Donghyuck. Even sitting with him in complete, utter silence would be enjoyable.
The glow coming from the living room catches your attention then, and you trudge towards the couch to grab the remote before realising that you and Donghyuck never finished the movie before you freaked out and he left.
In a split-second decision, you decide to press play, the house dead silent save for the dialogue between both characters. You only realise seconds later that it’s the scene on the hill, the one where Laurie confesses to Jo.
You’re unable to tear your eyes away from the screen, the scene suddenly feeling a little too real, meaning something more than the previous times that you’ve watched it. Destined to be friends, never lovers. That was exactly what you told Donghyuck.
But you’re starting to think that you might be dead wrong.
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You’re quickly learning that while Karina and Ningning may be encouraging during practice, they’re not as supportive when it comes to your personal life. The latter is staring at you with an expression of disbelief on her face, while Karina simply lets out a tired sigh.
”So…the answer’s no?” you ask, a tinge of hope still sneaking in.
“No, Y/N, you can’t be allergic to a person. That’s not how it works,” Ningning states, looking at you as if you’ve gone mad. “Who even is this about?” Karina asks, and you wince slightly at the question.
“Donghyuck,” you finally admit after long enough, nervously taking a sip of your juice.
“Sounds to me like you just have feelings for him,” Ningning interjects, and you set down your bottle, looking at her. “Not possible.”
“More possible than you being allergic to him.”
Karina’s words successfully shut you up, and you sink back into the chair. “Okay. Maybe I like him. A little bit. But it’s never going to work out,” you whine.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re friends, and he- how can I like a boy who spends more time looking at his gaming computer than me?”
“Most boys like gaming. Jeno’s the exact same, if you haven’t realised,” Karina retorts, and you reflexively turn your head to the other table, where the middle linebacker sits. Contrary to his intimidating exterior, the boy is surprisingly nice, and a good boyfriend to Karina. You’ve never seen her happier, except for the day when they became an official couple. But no matter.
“He likes physics, Karina. Physics. The boy tried to give me a lecture on thermodynamics. What part of that is attractive to you?”
She winces at that, and you bask in the momentary feeling of victory, before Ningning interjects. “Opposites attract. You’re an arts student, and he’s in science. A match made in heaven. You’re just scared you’ll get rejected, won’t you?”
And as always, Ningning hits the nail on the head directly. The fear of rejection feels all too real, especially when you know that Donghyuck has barely even shown an ounce of interest in anything romantic with anyone, let alone you, the girl who’s been his best friend for close to a decade.
You’re sure that he cares for you, but all and any affection he feels is strictly delineated within the insurmountable boundaries of platonic friendship.
You’re silent, staring off blankly into space until someone settles next to you. Giselle, youngest member of the cheer team but scarily good at tumbling, enough for you to take one look at her and sign her acceptance slip. She warmed up to you quickly after the both of you had been paired up for a group project, and the girl’s quick to notice the sombre atmosphere in the air.
“Boy problems?” She asks, looking at Karina, who nods, angling her chin towards you. “Let me guess - you like Donghyuck but you don’t think he reciprocates your feelings,” she states, and your dejection is briefly replaced by incredulity. “How did you know?”
“You’re terribly obvious, Y/N. There’s only one boy in your life - consider the fact that you’ve completely ignored the advances of half of the guys on the rugby team?”
“They don’t make any advances,” you mutter. Sure, Minhyung may have lent you that one umbrella, and Yangyang’s always asking for your notes in History, but that doesn’t mean anything.
“That’s because everyone quickly gave up after seeing you and Donghyuck,” Giselle explains, and you run a hand through your hair, before regretting it slightly when you realise it’s likely messed up the styling that you had done.
“I just- I swear I didn’t feel anything for him like three months ago. But there was that one time he sneaked into my class to take notes because I had a headache, and also he’s just so-”
“So?” Ningning leans over, waiting for you to finish the sentence, and you close your eyes in embarrassment out of what you’re about to say.
“-attractive. He’s so attractive,” you confess, watching as Karina bites back a laugh. You’re not entirely sure when exactly Donghyuck started taking a specific interest in fashion, figuring out more ways to style his hair than simply letting it fall over his glasses.
“I guess, for a physics nerd, he is cute,” she acquiesces, and you sit up indignantly. “He’s not a nerd! Do you know he can play the drums? And he’s really good at singing.”
Karina leans back reflexively at your outburst, mischief glinting in her eyes as you sink back down. “This is so embarrassing,” you whine, letting out a groan of anguish as Ningning looks on sympathetically.
At your forlorn expression, the youngest cheerleader turns to you and grabs your hands in hers, like some sort of messiah.
“Do you trust me?” Giselle asks, and you nod hesitantly, even though you can’t help but feel like you’re being led into some sort of trap.
“I’ve seen this work hundreds of times. If you do this, I promise Lee Donghyuck will be in love with you by the time winter break rolls around,” she promises, and you suck in a breath at the prospect of it, of getting Donghyuck to see you in a light that isn’t friendship.
Winter break. That’s six months away, which is a little under two hundred days. Barely a fraction of the time you’ve known Donghyuck, but it’ll have to count. “What do I have to do?” You ask, and Giselle grins, her smile reminding you a bit of a comic villain.
“Just three things. Simple, really.”
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#1 LEARN ABOUT HIS INTERESTS (PREFERABLY FROM HIM)
The first one is easy. You know Donghyuck’s likes and dislikes from memory, from his personal preferences to the things that make him uncomfortable. He’s easy to please in terms of music, though he gravitates more towards smooth, sultry vocals compared to your playlists of upbeat pop. With regards to food, he’s especially nice to you when you buy him chocolate biscuit snacks, and the only thing he can’t tolerate is celery.
His favourite subjects? Physics and math, though if he had to pick an arts, it would be music. His hobbies include singing, gaming and playing the drums, which he somehow manages to fit in despite the already jam-packed schedule that makes up his life.
When you had duly recited that to Giselle, she hadn’t been sure whether to be concerned or impressed. But she wanted you to take it a step up, which was why you were now in Donghyuck’s room on a Sunday afternoon, arms crossed as he stares back at you.
“What the fuck?”
“Why not?”
Donghyuck shakes his bangs away from the sides of his face, before frowning. “You’re literally the last person I would expect to have a remote interest in Overwatch.”
He’s right, but you ignore that. “I’m…trying new things,” you excuse, watching as he wrinkles his nose slightly before shrugging. “Sure. Sit over there,” he instructs, pointing to the gaming chair. It’s comfortable against your back, and you’re starting to understand why he’s able to spend hours cooped up in his room during holidays.
Donghyuck’s desk is surprisingly organised, besides the empty coffee can abandoned beside the keyboard. Lying in a corner are his files and schoolwork, while the stationery sits on a shelf above. If you force your eyes upwards, you’ll land on a familiar photo frame - one that quickly elicits a smile.
There’s a large Ferris wheel in the background, and right in front, two small children. You’re holding a stick of cotton candy that’s larger than your face, while Donghyuck has one arm around your shoulder and the other grasping onto a teddy bear.
He had won that for you with his pocket money in second grade, and the same bear still sits in your wardrobe, albeit a little dustier. It’s not like you don’t have plenty of other photos as well. There are the ones from Donghyuck’s performances when he was in the school band, and those of you and him during your first cheer competition.
Donghyuck’s there, on every page of your life, like a watermark. Feelings aside, you’re not quite sure what you would do without him.
Your thoughts are disrupted, however, by him leaning over to set up the computer. Donghyuck’s eyes are focused on the screen, and it’s likely why he hasn’t realised how close you are to him. From where you’re sitting, it’s the perfect vantage point to observe Donghyuck’s side profile, lit aglow by the brightness of the screen.
You hate the way your heartbeat speeds up involuntarily, gaze lingering on his jawline and the freckles that dot his cheeks. They always return during summer, only to fade away once the weather turns colder.
The realisation that you find your best friend ridiculously attractive is hitting you straight in the face, and it’s terrifying.
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An hour later, you’re sitting on Donghyuck’s bed, gaming console in hand. You’ve established Overwatch as a fruitless venture, and the boy in question looks down at you, amused. “That was only two games. Do you want to try League?”
You shake your head vehemently in resistance, slotting in the game disc to prove your point. He looks as if he’s not quite sure what to do with you, only moving towards his desk to bring a few snacks over.
“I’ve only ever seen you play Overcooked,” he points out, and you roll your eyes. “That’s because it’s the only one I’m good at.”
However, when you take into account the amount of time that you’ve been playing Overcooked, the achievement diminishes. When you first started, Donghyuck would be the only one helping to clear the first few levels, while your goal was simply to not get in the way.
Now, you’re able to keep up with him decently, though he still gets a much higher score in individual matches.
Donghyuck lets out an exasperated huff, but there’s a smile on his face. “I appreciate it, you know,” he says softly, and you turn your head. “What?”
“Overwatch. I know you wanted to try for me,” he says, and you let out a groan, before sinking into the pillow behind you. Of course he’s figured you out. You suppose you should have planned it better, considering the number of times you’ve complained about having to wait for him to finish his games. “At least I know I’m never going to play it ever again.”
Your voice comes out muffled from beneath the blanket, and you miss the way Donghyuck’s eyes cloud over with fondness as he looks at you. “It’s okay. You’re still my best friend, even if you can’t get three star-rankings on your own- ouch.”
He lets out a grunt of pain as you land a well-aimed elbow in his ribs, placing a hand over his stomach and collapsing onto the bed. “You’re so dramatic,” you complain, pushing him off from where he’s half-sprawled over you.
“You’re so mean to me. I still love you though,” he mutters, pinching your left cheek gently with his free hand. You try your best to not make your expression too plain on your face. “Love you too, I guess,” you say, though it comes out more as an incoherent mumble, eyes looking anywhere but at him.
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#2 MORE TIME SPENT TOGETHER IS BETTER THAN NONE
You’re not sure how much more you can fulfil task #2, considering the only times you aren’t with Donghyuck are when you’re in class, at practice, or sleeping. But Ningning is quick to denounce your claims during the break, when all of you are sprawled on the gymnasium floor.
“Best-friend activities don’t count, Y/N. You need to go on dates. Things that can be seen in the context of romance,” she clarifies, and you lie back down, exhausted.
It seems having to manage your feelings for Donghyuck while attempting to woo him is quickly becoming a full-time commitment.
You let out a sigh, getting back up once the coach calls to start.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
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You did, in fact, do an extraordinary amount of planning.
The autumn festival holiday was around the corner, which meant a few different things. The most important one being that student council went on a break, leaving Donghyuck with precious spare time to rest.
Unfortunately, he was not going to have those three days completely undisturbed, thanks to you.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Donghyuck comments as he follows behind you, hands tucked into his coat. You grin slightly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re almost there. Just be patient.”
However, when the both of you round the corner, you immediately see Donghyuck skid to a halt. “Oh no. Definitely not.”
He’s staring at the ice skating rink with a mixture of fear and apprehension, and you let out a laugh.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to try this?” you ask, and he whips his head towards you. “I meant it as a joke. You know I can’t ice skate,” he mumbles nervously, rubbing at the back of his head, and you grab onto the sleeve of Donghyuck’s jacket, pulling him along despite his complaints.
Despite his reluctance, the both of you are quickly on the ice, skates securely strapped to your feet.
It’s a petty sort of consolation to know that Donghyuck isn’t perfect. It’s even worse, however, to know that despite his inclinations to annoy you to death and steal your food, you still have the biggest, most embarrassing crush on him.
You skate up behind him, pausing to observe the boy step carefully over the ice. His posture reminds you a bit of a duckling, and you have to hold back a laugh. Despite how clumsy his movements are, you can’t help but find them endearing.
“Need help?” You ask once you’re next to him, and Donghyuck grumbles slightly before nodding and extending his hands. “It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it. Try not to walk on the ice. It’ll just make you more unsteady.”
There’s a warm feeling of pride that floods you when you see your best friend attempt to take the advice dutifully, gradually getting closer to gliding on the ice. You try not to focus too much on how his fingers are interlaced tightly with yours, palm fitting perfectly in your grasp.
“I think I’ve got it,” he says after a while. There’s a cocky grin plastered on his face as he looks at you, and you scoff slightly. “Why are you still holding on to my hand then?”
His gaze darts down abruptly as if suddenly realizing that his fingers are still interlocked with yours.
“For security,” he replies teasingly, the corners of his lips tilted up.
You try not to make your bewilderment too obvious at his response. Donghyuck teases you plenty, but you’re not sure whether this crosses into the realm of flirting, except for the fact that it leaves your heartbeat unsteady.
“You’re really flushed. Are you okay?” He pauses when he realises you’re not following behind him, eyes warm with concern.
You paste a shaky smile on your face. “I’m fine. Just a little cold.”
It’s a flimsy excuse, but you’re hoping he’ll let it pass. The boy in front of you seems to pause in thought for a moment, before looping his arm through yours and pulling you out of the rink. “Wait, but our slot isn’t done yet-”
Donghyuck doesn’t reply you, too busy shrugging off his denim jacket as you stare at him in confusion. “There’s only ten minutes left anyways. We can go get hot chocolate,” he suggests.
“Also, wear this,” he mutters, and you feel something warm draped over your shoulders. Donghyuck’s jacket is a little too big on you, but it’s comfortable, with the faint cottony smell that you’ve grown to identify with him. “Thanks,” you mumble softly, your own voice tuned out by the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears.
You’re so fucked.
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When Donghyuck first met Zhong Chenle, he thought he was going to go deaf. It was like the boy was constantly speaking out of a megaphone from his sheer volume.
He once told Chenle that he heard him more than he saw him. The boy had only responded with another ear-splitting laugh. But Donghyuck still enjoys having him around, for the main reason that Chenle’s the only one capable of co-opting with him and not being complete dead weight - Jisung’s pretty hopeless, and Jaemin’s often too tired from training to log on.
“Donghyuck. Do you want food?”
He had given up on getting Chenle to use honorifics a long time ago, the boy either excusing it with the fact that he was foreign, or that Donghyuck acted like he was younger anyways.
“Let’s get Chinese takeout. Loser pays,” he replies, and Chenle immediately nods in assent, switching his mode over to single-player.
It doesn’t take long for the ‘game over’ screen to flash up at Donghyuck, and he flings his controller to the side, Chenle turning around with a smug grin on his face.
“Don’t sulk,” he scolds, pinching Donghyuck in the side, who currently has his face buried in the pillow. “I’m not sulking. I just can’t believe I lost to a seventeen-year-old,” he grumbles, before fishing out his wallet and passing it to Chenle.
It’s not the first time he’s lost - the score is pretty even between them, and no one’s keeping tally, but Donghyuck just likes to be dramatic. He thinks it’s one of his talents, the innate quality of over-emphasising every small thing to draw a reaction out of anyone.
And of course, his favourite person to pester is you. Chenle’s in second place, but that’s because the boy sometimes annoys him even more in retaliation. You’re not capable of annoying Donghyuck even if you tried, because he’s used to every tendency of yours. You only whine when you’re tired or embarrassed, and even that’s more cute than exhausting.
“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”
Donghyuck remains silent, but a nod of his head indicates for Chenle to continue.
“Is it true that everyone gets together in senior year?” he asks, and Donghyuck furrows his eyebrows, considering the question. He supposes there’s Jeno and Karina, Giselle and Yangyang, and in the previous year there was Hyunsuk and Haeun-
“Oh. I guess so? Plenty of people at least.”
“What about you, then?”
What about him? Donghyuck wondered for a brief moment, but the answer wasn’t hard to figure out. He liked you, but he was too much of a coward to ever say anything, because all the words seemed to get stuck in his throat whenever he tried to open his mouth.
“Oh. Not everyone, I guess,” he realizes, and Chenle scoffs. “Is it because no one likes you?”
Donghyuck’s eyebrows raise in annoyance. “I’ll have you know people like me plenty,” he retorts, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy, who only grins even wider.
“Like Y/N?”
“You- how do you know?” Donghyuck thinks this might be the first time Chenle’s ever caught him off guard, the boy’s eyes betraying a certain sense of mischief.
But Chenle avoids his question, instead leaning his head down until it’s hanging off the bed, his eyes staring intently at Donghyuck. “Have you confessed?”
At the boy’s silence, he hums in conclusion. “I guess not. You know, if you even want to stand a chance, you should do it now.”
Donghyuck stiffens at his words. “What do you mean?”
“There are so many more guys at university. And if anything, Y/N’s going to be one of the most popular people there.”
He knows that. For God’s sake, Donghyuck is the best example of the magnetic effect you have on others.
But he was the first. That has to count for something. “It’s fine,” he mutters doubtfully. “It’s not like she hasn’t received confessions before.”
Ha Sungwoon in freshman year, who wrote you a love letter and placed it in your locker. Kim Youngjae from the tuition academy, who was your deskmate for three terms during the summer holidays. And just last year, Kang Taebin, a guy two years older who was a fellow part-timer. Donghyuck had called him a creep three minutes after you had called to tell him about the confession you received, and you had simply laughed before assuring him that it was a rejection on your end.
He remembers each of them clearly, like little pegs on a post arranged chronologically right on top of one another.
And right at the bottom, Lee Donghyuck, who started feeling butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you when he was fifteen but was too scared to admit it until two years later.
“Maybe she’s waiting to date in university. What are you going to do if she actually gets a boyfriend?”
“Be happy for her?” The way Donghyuck’s voice lifts at the end makes it sound like a question, reflective of the confusion he feels swirling in his heart.
It only takes a few seconds for him to realise the idea of having you date someone else causes his mood to dampen considerably, and from the way Chenle purses his mouth, he doesn’t believe Donghyuck either.
But Donghyuck’s only known how to be your best friend, not anything more or anything less.
Yet, if you have to make time for a boyfriend - he feels himself seize with panic at the idea of possibly drifting away from you, of having to make way for another stranger, for another man to love and know you more than he does.
In an ideal world, Donghyuck would move with you to a little island where there was no one else, the kind that both of you promised each other when you were kids. But that’s not how real life works, and he’s starting to realise that the chances he has are running out as quickly as the time left in the year.
Chenle seems to fall silent, watching the minute shift in expressions on Donghyuck’s face, and the latter suddenly feels too vulnerable, too seen. He shoves Chenle’s shoulder - gently, but enough to regain some control over his free-running emotions and inject some confidence into his voice.
“What do you know, anyways? You’re just a kid,” Donghyuck says, looking towards his phone gratefully when it lights up with a notification.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” he sighs out. “I’m going to get the food.”
But as he walks down the long hallway towards Chenle’s door, the marble floor cold against his bare feet, Donghyuck finally admits to himself that the younger boy is dead right.
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At this point, you feel like Karina and Ningning might be more invested in your love life than you are. With the newest addition of Giselle, it’s like they’ve renewed their passion in finding ways to help you.
“So? How was the date?”
Giselle looks over at you expectantly from where she’s seated in the booth. The four of you are in a mall, and you’re starting to regret having agreed to go out. It was an invitation to be interrogated on your progress (or lack thereof) with Donghyuck. “He fell,” you mutter.
“For you?”
“No. On the ice.”
You hear Ningning’s exasperated sigh before you see her face. She looks like she’s about to commit murder, and you smile, albeit apologetically. “He gave me his jacket. And bought me hot chocolate.”
Karina lets out an encouraging hum. ‘That’s good…isn’t it?” You shrug, more nonchalant than disappointed. “I’m not sure. He’s definitely being nicer, but it’s still no indication. It’s probably just because I paid for the tickets,” you reply.
There’s a collective silence that descends over the table when your food comes, only broken when the heaping bowls of pasta are cleared halfway.
“Then I think we should go for the third tactic. It’ll be harder, though,” Giselle says, a sharp sort of conviction in her voice as she gazes at you. “What is it?” Ningning asks, and the brown-haired girl smiles proudly.
“Na Jaemin.”
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Ah, Na Jaemin.
Where should you start?
If perfection exists in a person, Na Jaemin just might be the closest thing to it. The star quarterback is the school’s pride and joy, and you’re quite sure he already has multiple full-ride scholarships secured.
And unfortunately, unlike the cliches, he’s one of the sweetest people in the level, with a smile bright enough to light up any room. Sure, Jaemin might occasionally borrow your homework to copy, but he always makes it up by sending over lecture notes and iced coffee. The both of you are almost like colleagues, considering you’re there to cheer at each of his games and have seen every single touchdown he’s made.
Now, the athlete is sitting in front of you, a Starbucks cup in hand. His drink is a concerning shade of dark brown, almost black, and you’re too scared to ask him what it is.
“How did Giselle convince you to do this?”
“She didn’t have to. I thought it would be fun. Besides, Donghyuck’s a cool guy,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes.
Giselle nods encouragingly. “See? It’ll be a great idea.”
The way she and Jaemin are looking at you makes you feel like you’re the crazy one for doubting the plausibility of the idea.
“It’s the oldest trick in the book, Y/N,” she comforts, and you exhale hesitantly, before nodding.
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#3 THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER AND CUPID ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT
It’s a yearly occurrence at this point, but that doesn’t mean you don’t partake in it either. People flooding to the atrium of the school, towards the large corkboard with its neat rows of printed black text. There are some who are jumping excitedly, others…not so excited.
At least the waterworks haven’t begun, which is always a good sign. You’re scanning the board until you find your name, the number next to it eliciting a soft sigh of relief.
The top thirty of the level. Decent enough to keep your parents happy, even if they’ll definitely ask you how Donghyuck did.
His name is printed in glossy letters right near the top. Second place is every student’s dream, but he’ll probably complain about it to you later. Both he and Renjun have been fighting tooth-and-nail this year for first place, even if they’re technically good friends.
It’s only when you’re at your locker that he appears, backpack slung over his shoulder. “I saw your rankings. You did well.” There’s a glimmer of pride on his face, so genuine that it causes your heart to flutter imperceptibly.
Despite his perfect grades and records, Donghyuck’s never made you feel less than him. Instead, he’s the one who’s waiting for you after every performance, and spending countless afternoons tutoring you in the library. “Thank you,” you say softly.
“By the way, the autumn fair is this weekend. We should celebrate,” he suggests, and your heart stops for a moment. This is it.
You inhale nervously, before looking at Donghyuck. “Actually…”
“If you can’t make it because of practice, that’s okay-”
“I’m going with Jaemin.”
Donghyuck falls quiet at your admission, and you almost wish you had bitten your tongue. His jovial expression looks slightly dimmer now, as he throws a glance at you.
“Na Jaemin? Suddenly?” The tone feels almost accusatory, and you bristle slightly. “Yeah. He asked me. Sorry,” you breathe out, watching Donghyuck carefully as a thousand emotions pass over his face before it returns to careful neutrality.
“Okay. Cool. I’ll see you next week then,” he replies, voice clipped, before turning on his heel.
“Wait! Donghyuck!”
You immediately rush after him, and the boy pauses for a few precious seconds, glancing at you hopefully.
”Aren’t we going for lunch?” You ask, and his shoulders sink back down, as if disappointed. The expression in his eyes is unreadable for once as he gazes at you. “I forgot I had a council meeting. You can go ahead,” he excuses, not waiting for your response before rushing out of your sight.
There’s a pang in your heart at Donghyuck’s cold tone, and you’re starting to wonder if Giselle’s plan is backfiring terribly as he walks further and further down the hallway, without sparing you a glance.
Maybe you’re overreacting. He’s likely stressed by the upcoming end-year projects that the council is planning, along with today’s results. This barely means anything compared to the arguments the both of you have had, the ones where you angrily refuse to read his texts until the boy pesters you into relenting.
Yet, why does it feel like the end?
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Once in a while, Donghyuck has a terrible day. And it’s not just a little bad - like forgetting his umbrella during a downpour, or having all his pen nibs snap on the day of an important exam.
Though those things have happened before, and are particularly vexing, they don’t cause him to lose his nerve, mainly because you always share your umbrella with him and keep spare pens in a box in your locker.
He supposes he shouldn’t complain - one terrible day out of a hundred good ones is pretty decent, and Donghyuck supposes he has his naturally positive outlook to thank for that.
But this might just go down in the books as being the worst day of his life.
His argument with you has dampened his mood considerably, so much that even Renjun noticed in between lessons, nudging Donghyuck when he had failed to hear the teacher call his name.
He supposes he shouldn’t be too upset about it - in the big scheme of things, you going with Jaemin to the autumn fair isn’t something of vital importance. It’s not like you told Donghyuck you’ve decided to date the guy, or that you have a crush on him.
And as someone who takes a science elective, he supposes he should know that nothing should be concluded without proper, repeated results, and that there are too many variables in any experiment that can be changed, much less when it comes to you and Jaemin.
But Jaemin’s not rude like Sungwoon, arrogant like Youngjae, or weird like Taebin - he’s cheerful, volunteers at the animal shelter on weekends, and is the pride and joy of your school’s rugby team. He’s also ridiculously good at Overwatch, which is bizarre considering he only plays whenever Donghyuck convinces him to go online.
He’s Donghyuck’s friend, and a good person. If anything, he should be giving the stamp of approval, perhaps even encouraging because there’s no one else who deserves you.
There’s only one problem - himself. Lee Donghyuck, the independent variable.
Fuck research protocol. He’ll employ whatever methodology he needs if it means you choose him over Jaemin.
“Fuck research protocol,” he mutters, earning a concerned look from his deskmate. “I sure hope that’s a joke. Our lab practical is next week,” Renjun replies, peeling a label and pasting it carefully on the test tube.
Donghyuck shakes his head. “That was a simile,” he explains.
“You mean a metaphor?”
Fuck. Perhaps he didn’t retain the lecture you gave him on literary devices as well as he thought he did.
Donghyuck’s suddenly reminded by the fact that Jaemin’s also a Literature student, which means he definitely knows the difference between a simile and a metaphor, and won’t bore you with explanations of conservation laws.
It also means that Jaemin can definitely understand Little Women on the first try, and doesn’t need to Sparknote it beforehand to discuss with you - and Donghyuck can’t deny that he’s just mildly horrified at the idea of you letting someone else watch the movie with you, one of the cornerstones of your movie nights.
To be fair, Donghyuck’s made his friends watch The Conjuring - but that’s not even the same thing. There’s absolutely nothing romantic about him getting scared half out of his wits after Renjun and Jeno pour fake blood all over the bathroom mirror, but what if you see Laurie dancing with Jo and deciding you want some of that for yourself?
Donghyuck should be there when that happens. Not anyone else, and most definitely not Na Jaemin.
But with the way he shook you off this morning - a pang of crushing guilt floods him, and Donghyuck has the urge to kick himself, just for how stupid he’s been. If anything, he's only pushed you further away.
He realises he never did reply Renjun’s question when the boy waves his hand in front of his face. “Oh. Yeah. A metaphor. Whatever,” he says cursorily, watching as Renjun stares at him as if he’s grown another head.
He’s starting to think it might be better if he did, just to figure out the puzzle of his own heart.
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It’s only when you miss the step for the third time that Karina walks towards you, placing a careful hand on your shoulder.
“Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all afternoon,” she comments, a concerned look in her eyes.
You nod after a moment, signalling for the rest of the cheerleaders to take a break. Your position as captain means that you’re responsible for directing most of the practices, but how are you going to monitor a routine if you keep messing up the steps yourself?
Unfortunately, you can’t seem to take your mind off Donghyuck, and how he hasn’t replied to your texts since the afternoon. You’ve offered to get him snacks after council, and yet, radio silence.
It’s not abnormal for him to forget to check his phone, but with every second that passes, the uneasiness in your stomach just becomes heavier. You wonder if he’s that angry over your change of plans for Jaemin, and whether it might be better to just ditch the entire plan.
Fuck your feelings. You want your best friend back, and you’d rather have Donghyuck’s friendship than a cold shoulder.
However, Karina’s still staring at you, so you tear yourself away from thoughts of him, refocusing on the scene in front of you.
“Let’s do stunts!” You instruct, cupping your hands over your mouth to emphasise your volume. You’re grateful it doesn’t come out shaky and betray the emotional turmoil you’re going through, watching as everyone lines up in their typical groups, clearing the mat space for tumbling.
It’s one of your favourite things in the world, the feeling of soaring briefly in the air before your feet land on solid ground, and it’ll be a welcome distraction from the boy who takes up too much space in your heart and mind.
Karina always leads the first round, and this time is no different. You suck in a deep breath, before taking a running leap and relishing the thrill of momentarily being a full 180 degrees in the air, as if you’re floating. But there’s still a dull ache in your heart that refuses to leave, even as you prep for the second part of the stunt.
You realise you’ve messed up a moment too early, before it happens. You’re not even sure when distraction had gripped at you, suddenly realising the angle at which you’re landing is strangely off. There’s fear that shoots through you, cold and unrelenting, but it only allows you a few seconds of panic.
A grunt of pain leaves you the moment your foot lands wrongly, the concerned shouts of the other girls echoing in the background. Your body collapses to the ground, hands narrowly stopping you from falling flat on your face.
You can only be grateful that you haven’t heard a crack, but the sharp ache that shoots up tells you that something is definitely injured.
You hear the rush of footsteps before Karina immediately crouches next to you, an arm under your shoulder. “Can you walk?” she asks, and you grit your teeth before nodding. Her voice is calm, but you can still detect the undercurrent of panic poking through. It’s likely a sprain, which hopefully means you’ll just have to rest.
Not your first injury, but it still hurts like a bitch.
You try your best to smile at the rest of the team as she helps you hobble towards the gymnasium entrance, but it’s a poor attempt at comfort. But being in charge means that it’s your job to worry, not theirs.
It feels like an eternity as you make the slow hobble towards the nurse’s office, Karina on one side and Ningning at the other. Even as the throbbing pain of your ankle causes to let out an occasional wince, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratefulness for the two girls beside you.
You allow yourself to lean back once you’re carefully placed on the bed, the nurse carefully looking at your foot. “It’s an ankle sprain. You’ll be up in two weeks, but you should be careful for the next month.”
Her words cause you to let out a sigh of relief. There’s two more months to the performance. A tight fit, but you’ll make it.
“The both of you should go back to practice,” you tell Karina and Ningning while the nurse wraps your foot in bandages. Karina clucks in disapproval. “How can we? You’re injured.”
Her evident concern causes you to chuckle slightly. “I’ll be fine. The others are probably wondering what happened. Don’t worry,” you assure, and her face softens slightly.
“Okay. We’ll make sure everything goes well, so just focus on recovering, okay?”
You nod obediently at Karina’s request, and she ruffles your hair affectionately before following Ningning out.
The moment the both of them leave, you let yourself sink back into the pillow and close your eyes in hopes of rest. On record, this might be one of the worst days you’ve had this year. You hear footsteps thud into the room, and assume it’s the nurse moving around.
You sure hope it isn’t another injured student, considering you’d rather not have anyone see you wallow in self-pity.
Until a familiar figure steps behind the curtain, and your heart sinks even further.
“Hey.”
Donghyuck’s standing in front of you, hands tucked into the pockets of his school blazer. His shirt is slightly rumpled, tie pulled out, and he looks like he’s been running. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he crosses the distance towards the bed you’re lying on, settling in the wobbly plastic chair next to the bed.
“Why are you here?” He flinches at your question, and you wonder if he can hear the tremor in your words.
“Does your foot hurt?” He shoots back with another question, and you whip your head to face him sharply.
“I sprained it. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Honestly, Y/N, you should be more careful-”
“Well, how was I supposed to feel when you didn’t reply to my messages-”
“Are you blaming me for your sprained foot?” Donghyuck asks incredulously, eyes wide as he stares at you, willing you to fall silent. He runs a hand haphazardly through his hair, and you’ve never seen him this agitated.
“Fuck, this wasn’t how I wanted it to go. Renjun said- never mind.” His voice is resigned, and the dejected tone causes your shoulders to sink and the fight to leave you. “You know I’m not blaming you,” you mutter softly, and he sinks down in the chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he nods.
There’s more that Donghyuck wants to say. You can tell by the way he swallows nervously, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he thrums his fingers nervously on his lap. “I just- it’s been a weird day, and I took it out on you because I was looking forward to the fair,” he admits.
It’s as close to an apology that someone like him can give, and you can tell the boy’s truly remorseful. Donghyuck’s someone who lives easily without regrets, who says and does the things that he wants. The confidence he possesses is something to be admired, but it also means that sometimes you get hurt.
But no matter what, he’s still your best friend, and the one that you’ll trust with anything.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you mumble softly, watching as his eyes become less dejected and fill with an unfamiliar sort of fondness, one that tugs painfully at your heartstrings. You bring your hand down from where it’s resting on your lap, breath hitching when Donghyuck doesn’t wait to intertwine his fingers with yours. When he lifts his head to look up at you again, his gaze is heavy with the weight of a thousand unsaid words.
“You don’t have to tell me everything, Y/N. We both have our own friends too, and I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything you want to do,” he replies honestly, and you look at him, a stricken expression on your face.
How do you tell Donghyuck that you wish he would care? About who you go out with, or that you wish he would tell you that he doesn’t want you to go with Jaemin, but with him instead?
You would gladly let him hold you back, to cross the line dividing friendship and the heady rush of attraction that you felt every single time you looked at him.
“We can go together instead. I didn’t even confirm plans with Jaemin,” you quickly clarify, looking at him hopefully. You know that the boy wouldn’t mind if you cancelled, considering the very reason behind it. But there’s a mournful smile that makes its way onto Donghyuck’s face, strangely pensive as he shakes his head.
“It’s okay. Jaemin’s nice. You should have fun. I can just go with Renjun or Jeno,” he says, and you’re left helpless in the face of his kind rejection. “What did the doctor say? Is the pain better?”
His abrupt change of topic dispels the awkward atmosphere, and you understand that the rather sensitive topic of Jaemin will be shelved for now.
“It’ll recover in time, but it still hurts,” you complain, and Donghyuck tilts his head sympathetically, but flicks your forehead nevertheless. His previous concern is gone, replaced more with anger. But you don’t mind, because you know it comes from a place of care, even if he’s scolding you. “Be more careful next time. I don’t want you to get injured.”
The firm tone of his voice makes you sink back into the pillow, nodding obediently. Until Donghyuck grabs your hand, causing you to jerk slightly in shock.
“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re precious to many people.”
What about you? Am I precious to you? Is the question on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it quickly. “Okay. I promise,” you reply, and he smiles contentedly, the kind that makes his left dimple peek through.
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“Na Jaemin, if you kick me one more time, I’ll tell Chenle you were the one who spilled water on his computer,” Karina threatens, narrowing her eyes at the black-haired boy. “It was an accident!” he defends, looking towards you for support.
“Y/N? You good?” You jerk up at the mention of your name, realising that Jeno, Karina and Jaemin are all looking at you. “Oh, sorry,” you mumble, taking a big bite of the pumpkin pie that sits in front of you.
It’s supposed to be your favourite, but the puree tastes like sand in your mouth. Karina takes one look at your glum expression, and stands up, not so gently pulling Jeno along with her. “Come on. Let’s go try some games,” she suggests in an effort to perk you up, and you nod in agreement, trying to put on a wobbly grin on your face to appreciate her efforts.
Even then, Karina’s quick to run off with Jeno, and a genuine smile makes its way onto your face when you watch him tease her for failing to get the ball into the hoop. They’re adorable, the kind of couple that lasts even after graduation.
“Have you ever fallen in love?”
Jaemin looks over at your question, his fleece jacket tucked snugly around his shoulders. “No. But looking at you, it doesn’t seem to be that great.”
“Thanks,” you mutter dryly, watching as he grins, pearly-whites poking through. “Just kidding. You and Donghyuck are perfect for each other.”
Despite everything that has happened, it feels nice to have Jaemin’s vote of confidence, even as you teeter unsurely in your relationship with Donghyuck.
“You know, as much as I agree with Giselle’s ideas, I think you should try something different,” Jaemin says, out of the blue, and you cast a doubtful glance. There are people walking past the both of you, an even mix of students and adults. Yet, each time you search for Donghyuck in the crowd, he’s nowhere to be found.
Even after your injury, the both of you had fallen into your natural rhythm effortlessly, Donghyuck still cracking jokes and you responding with laughter. You still ran down to the record store when he needed help, listening to some tracks and providing what feedback you could, and he still left you convenience store bags after practice, sometimes accompanied by extra snacks for Karina and Ningning as well.
Except that nowadays, your heart felt like it was constantly about to burst out of your chest, and you always felt your cheeks warm whenever Donghyuck got a little too close. It didn’t help that he was naturally affectionate, something that you enjoyed and hated in equal measure.
Enjoyed because it meant that he didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a hug each time he saw you, or hold your hand and pull you to walk on the inside of the pavement. Hated because you were now hypersensitive to each time the both of you had any contact, freezing up whenever he leaned his head onto your shoulder or looped an arm around your waist.
A simple action of his was enough to make your heart flutter, and as much as nothing between you and Donghyuck had changed, your feelings were getting harder and harder to hide each day.
You only realise a few moments later that Jaemin’s still waiting for your reply.
“Honestly? I’m kind of tired of trying. If it happens, it’ll happen,” you sigh out.
At this point, the lines between what you can do as a friend and what’s romantic have blurred so much, especially with someone like Donghyuck. He’s held you when you cried over injuries, and looped his arm between yours when the both of you went on trips to the city. He’s seen you at your ugliest and your best, and you would like to think that if he had an inkling of attraction towards you, there would have been an indication.
Jaemin takes one look at the dejected expression on your face, and half-hugs you in an attempt at comfort. “It’ll be fine. If it helps, you can look forward to the game. Boys are overrated.”
“You’re saying that yourself?”
He nods, keeping his face as serious as he can before the corners of his lips tilt up, betraying a smile.
“Don’t tell Karina, but you’re my favourite cheerleader,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you laugh despite the heaviness in your chest.
You wonder if Donghyuck has a favourite cheerleader too.
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Considering how you’ve been part of the team since freshman year, you should feel less nervous. However, there’s still a teeming anxiety that pervades you as you pace around your bedroom. The uniform is already on the bed, your makeup bag shoved into the corner - but you’re still wondering if you’ve forgotten something.
Until your phone buzzes, and you hold it on speaker as you rifle through your closet for an extra pair of socks.
“I’ve seen you walking around your room since afternoon. Need any help?” Donghyuck’s voice filters through the speaker with its characteristic warmth, and you shake your head reflexively, knowing that he can see it from where he’s leaning out over his balcony.
A benefit of being neighbours - he’s never really further than a phone call away.
“I think I’m just nervous because it’s the last game of the season. And I haven’t gotten to practice as much because of the injury.” Your eyes drift to the brace sitting abandoned in the corner of your room, a reminder of the mistake that you’d prefer not to make again.
Donghyuck hums sympathetically, and you know that he understands, considering this happens before most of your performances, unless you’re feeling exceptionally confident.
“Want to go out for boba? My treat,” he promises, and you smile at his attempt to help.
You can already hear him moving around his room, packing up his things, and it causes warmth to surge in you, an affectionate feeling that is slowly becoming directly associated with him.
How are you supposed to get over Donghyuck if he consistently knows what you need? It’s like the boy specifically caters to everything that makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re quick to grab a jacket, pausing briefly to decide before your eyes land on a familiar denim one that’s much too big on you. It’s been your accessory of choice more often than not, until even Karina had noticed it during rehearsal.
Donghyuck raises his eyebrows slightly when you step down the driveway. He’s leaning against his car, ripped jeans tucked into his favourite pair of boots. It’s fascinating how starkly his personal clothing choice differs from what he wears to school, and you suppose the strict dress code has stifled his creativity in terms of outfits.
“That jacket looks familiar,” he points out, and you make a halfhearted attempt to shrug innocently. “It’s mine now.”
He lets out an amused huff at that, before motioning for you to get into the car. “You know, if you wanted more of my hoodies, you could have just asked,” he says, a knowing look in his eyes as he watches your cheeks redden.
“No one wants more of your hoodies. I’m doing this out of necessity,” you mutter, but Donghyuck knows you’re lying. He hasn’t seen you willingly wear a jacket since middle school, which is the main reason why you’ve worn so many of his, but the sight of his clothing draped over your shoulders fills him with a certain satisfaction, one that he can’t pinpoint.
“Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.”
Your head turns sharply at Donghyuck’s words, but his gaze remains fixed on the road, oblivious of the way your heartbeat speeds up in your chest. You wonder if he knows what effect he has on you, saying the things he does - and it seems to happen more often now, compliments slipping out here and there that make your eyes widen and a nervous laugh bubble out of your throat.
“Do you know that differentiation and integration aren’t even antonyms of each other?” You ask, balancing your chin on your hand as you look over at the boy sitting opposite you.
Donghyuck clicks his tongue disapprovingly, tapping your forehead gently with his pen. “Focus.”
“It doesn’t make any sense that they’re the opposites of each other in math-”
He looks up at you, a look of amused exasperation on his face as he stares you down. “I know you’re better than me in languages. But you’re the one who asked for help for your test, so solve these sums, and I’ll mark them,” he tells you, and your lips settle into a pout when you realise he means it.
“Fine,” you mutter, and a low chuckle escapes him at your defeated expression when you dip your head back down to look at the textbook in front of you.
There isn’t any further response from the boy, which is why you fill with alarm when he suddenly scoots over closer to you, head jerking upwards so quickly that your bangs fall into your face, temporarily obscuring your view.
“How are you going to see your worksheet if your hair’s always in your face?”
“You’re one to speak,” you retort, knowing full well that Donghyuck’s always protesting against cutting his hair, preferring when it’s longer. He pokes his tongue in his cheek out of annoyance, and your eyes immediately drift to the action.
“Stay still,” he mumbles, and your eyes widen inquisitively in confusion, right as he leans over, hand moving towards your face to tuck your hair behind your ear. You barely process the movement, only registering the soft brush of his fingers against your cheek before your stomach does a thousand backflips.
The action is sweet, even for him, and the gentleness of it makes your breath catch in your throat.
Donghyuck doesn’t pull his hand away, palm hovering beside your face even as he’s finished.
“Your hair’s soft,” he points out, and you can’t even deign to provide a response, too caught up in the rapid thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. He eventually sits back, eyes never leaving your face even as you stare at him, shell-shocked.
“Y/N. Y/N.” An insistent voice jerks you out of your thoughts, and you turn your head towards its source, only to be met with Donghyuck’s gaze. He must have been calling your name for a while, you realise, and you let out a cough that comes out more awkward than smooth.
There’s a cup of brown sugar milk tea in his hand - your favourite, and the sugar level at half, just the way you like it. It’s not anything special, but the fact that he remembers, and the way you know his is probably a taro milk tea with less ice, brings a smile to your face. “I thought I lost you there,” he says, and your smile turns sheepish. “Sorry. Drifted away for a second.”
He pokes the straw into the plastic, taking a quick sip. “About?”
“Hm?”
“What were you thinking about?”
“You.” The confession escapes your mouth before you can even halt it, brain short-circuiting as you realise what you’ve just said. Your throat seizes up, and you barely stop yourself from choking on your drink, the pearls making their way down uncomfortably.
“I mean- I just- I was thinking about how you were paying for the bubble tea- and how I should pay for your gas or something-” you sputter out a poor excuse, watching as Donghyuck begins to laugh, so hard that he holds on to his stomach.
You’re quite sure your cheeks are now pink with mortification, knowing full well that he can tell that you’re lying and you’ve completely, utterly embarrassed yourself in front of your best friend and the poor barista working the night shift behind the counter.
“It’s not like you haven’t treated me before,” he points out, picking up a napkin and placing it on your side, before his eyes narrow slightly with mischief. “But your first reply-” he moves closer, until you can see your own reflection in his eyes. “-what were you thinking? About me?”
His voice is smug as he says it, and you realise Donghyuck’s simply teasing you. It’s not the first time he’s jokingly flirted with you, but with the weight of your newfound feelings, you’re no longer sure how to respond.
Your mind is running at a mile a minute, before you finally settle on something. “Annoying.”
Donghyuck blinks, caught off-guard. “Huh?”
“I was thinking about how you’re annoying,” you bite out, letting out a relieved sigh when he sinks back into the chair, huffing petulantly.
“Is this because I stole your fries the other day?” He asks, feigning hurt, and you remain stone-faced as you look at him, nodding. “You also doodled little suns everywhere on my worksheet until Mr Kim made me redo it.”
“They were cute suns!”
“Sure, whatever you say.”
They were, but that’s beside the point. Crisis averted, you find it easier to joke around with Donghyuck, lips curving up as he looks at you, an indignant expression on his face.
You love the way he reacts to your dry, barely-there humor, a stark contrast from the way he smoothly interjects with quips and teasing. “Admit it. They were cute,” he demands, hands placed on the table for dramatic effect.
Your arms are crossed as you meet his gaze. “No.”
He huffs out in frustration, and you have to hold yourself back from cooing at how adorable he looks like this.
“I’m never buying you bubble tea again,” he mutters, and you grin slightly. “Sure.”
“You- never mind.” Your heart softens slightly at his forlorn expression, and you wonder if this is what it feels like to have the upper hand temporarily.
“I kept the worksheet, by the way,” you add, and he looks at you reluctantly, as if not yet deciding whether to listen or to ignore you.
“…What worksheet?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
“The one you drew on. It’s still in my file.”
Your hint causes Donghyuck to sit back up hopefully. “You didn’t throw it away?” When you shake your head, he breaks out into a smile so bright that it reminds you a little of the doodled suns themselves.
“Does that mean you think they’re cute?” He follows up with another question eagerly, and you hum, as if deep in thought.
“Maybe.”
It’s just one word, but with the way Donghyuck is looking at you, it seems as if you’ve just told him he’s won the lottery.
You’d do anything to see him have that expression, you realise, unable to hide your grin now as he looks at you. If your friends were privy to your thoughts, they would have teased you for how in over your head you were.
Even if you could get over your crush on Donghyuck, you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to.
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You’ve never told anyone, but the first person who you practised your makeup skills on wasn’t yourself.
It was Lee Donghyuck.
There’s definitely still a picture of him saved somewhere on your old phone, blusher carefully dusted on his cheeks and soft pink eyeshadow blended into a darker brown, complete with mascara and winged eyeliner. You had convinced him by promising to sponsor some of his in-game credits, and after a week of begging, the boy had finally sat himself down and allowed you free reign.
You hated how he had still looked good at the end of it, despite your novice skills. After that, you always used him for test makeup runs, until you finally grew confident enough to do it on your own.
Now, however, you’re standing in your bathroom anxiously, eyes darting to the time on your phone. Three hours before you have to leave for the stadium, and you’ve decided to test out your plan for makeup.
“I’m sure you look good,” Donghyuck assures through the phone, his voice muffled. However, you’re too nervous to focus on the compliment, nibbling at your lip.
“But I’ve never worn silver eyeshadow before! What if I just look washed out in the photos?”
“How about you take a picture now, and send it to me?”
“But my bathroom lighting is bad. Can’t you just come over now and take a look?” you plead, and Donghyuck lets out a soft groan of fatigue, causing you to wince apologetically. In all truth, you didn’t mean to wake him up at four in the morning. It just happens that Donghyuck is the only person you trust with things like these, and you find yourself needing his presence now more than ever.
There’s a beat of silence, and you’re thinking he might just hang up.
“Fine,” he agrees, and you almost let out a squeal of excitement, before realising your parents are likely still sleeping. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whisper into the phone, hearing him chuckle slightly.
“No problem. Now let me in. It’s cold.”
You don’t waste any time rushing towards the door, swinging it open for Donghyuck to come in. He looks at you, blinking tiredly at your bare face. “Where’s your makeup?”
“Oh. I haven’t done it yet. I just wanted to call you first.”
“Wake me up when you’re done, then,” he mumbles, following you into your room and promptly falling asleep on your bed, blanket tucked around him.
You stare at him for a while, mildly amazed at how fast the boy can sleep, before forcing yourself to get back to the task at hand.
It’s over an hour later when you finally trudge over to Donghyuck, hair styled as well.
“Donghyuck,” you call, poking at the boy to get him to wake up. Thankfully, he’s a lot faster this time, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes blearily.
“You’re done?” He asks, and you nod excitedly, before realising something and running back into the bathroom.
When you step back out, you’ve changed from your long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants into your cheer uniform, feeling slightly more confident about the way you look.
“Okay. I’m done. How is it?” You ask expectantly, waiting with bated breath as you step out, to face him directly.
For a long time, Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, and you look up from where your hands are brushing down your skirt, only to meet his heavy stare, that hasn’t left you even once. His eyes dart up to meet yours, catching on the silver eyeshadow that rests on your eyelids, to the gems carefully placed along the edges.
There’s a starstruck expression on his face, one that causes you to shift on your feet, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. Donghyuck’s sitting on the edge of the bed and facing you directly, knees brushing yours, and you laugh out of your nerves. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
He’s still looking up at you, until his gaze darts briefly to the side - you see Donghyuck swallow heavily, as if attempting to find the words to say.
Until he stands up abruptly, rising to his full height. The sudden movement causes you to stumble backwards, and despite his silence, Donghyuck instinctively wraps a hand around your waist to steady you. “Careful,” he mutters lowly, and your mind goes blank for a few seconds, nervousness clearing temporarily to make way for the fact that his face is inches away from yours.
You’re frantic for an entirely different reason now, quickly getting yourself upright to place some distance between the both of you. Donghyuck seems to regain his senses as well, clearing his throat.
“I told you I was right. It looks good,” he finally says, and you take a while to calm down the pace of your heartbeat. “Really?”
“You look beautiful, Y/N. You’ll do great. I mean it,” he assures, voice sincere as he cranes his neck down a little to better match your height, a soft smile on his face. The fluttering of your pulse returns with a vengeance, and you realise that Donghyuck’s hand hasn’t left your right hip, his warmth bleeding through the thin fabric.
At least the nerves about the performance have dissipated, entirely replaced by the dizzying rush that comes with being near Donghyuck.
As if on cue, your phone vibrates several times, lighting up with messages from what must be Karina and Ningning. Donghyuck’s eyes dart to it as well, and he grins slightly. “We should probably go,” he suggests, and you eventually find it in yourself to nod.
When he lets go of you, you try not to feel too disappointed.
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Despite your more-than-distracting encounter with Donghyuck early in the morning, you’re quick to focus the moment you step into the waiting room.
“Two more minutes until we’re on the field!” At your alert, there’s another flurry of activity, everyone rushing to touch up their makeup or check their shoelaces.
Karina makes her way over to you immediately, stepping gingerly over pom poms and duffel bags left on the floor.
“Game day. You ready?” She asks, an excited glint in her eyes as she links both arms with you, a little tradition that the both of you started in your first year.
“As I’ll ever be,” you exhale out, smiling at her and hoping it comes out confident.
“You’re our captain. You’ll do great,” Ningning interjects, passing you your poms, which are thankfully, not damp from sweaty palms. Exhilaration is slowly bubbling up in you, pushing away the anxiety, and you find yourself bouncing on the balls of your feet.
And then there’s the loud blare of a horn, signifying the end of the opening ceremony.
“Hey, you guys ready?” The voice you hear this time is much lower, and you turn your head to see Jaemin, two red stripes painted horizontally across his face. He’s grinning widely when you turn to face him, and you feel strangely comforted by the sight of the bubbly jock.
“There’s my favourite cheerleader,” he says, and you let out a laugh despite your nerves, striding towards him. “Good luck with the game, Jaemin. You’ll crush it,” you tell him, and he shrugs nonchalantly, dripping with confidence.
“We’ll do even better if you guys put on the best performance of your lives.”
There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes, one that grounds you and makes you feel a little more ready to go onto the pitch. It’s as much for you as it is for the rest of your team, and Jaemin’s as well.
“We will,” you promise, angling your chin to the side. Jaemin gets the hint, opening the door wide for you to follow him out, the rest of them behind you.
The cheers in the stadium are deafening, but you tune them out, instead choosing to focus on how white your sneakers are against the red track, or the pace of your breathing as you get into position.
In the few seconds before the music starts, you dart your head up quickly to the spectator stands, searching, before your eyes finally halt on a figure, dressed in a white shirt and jeans, bomber jacket over his shoulders.
You’d spot him in any crowd. From here, you can’t see all that clearly, but you can tell Donghyuck is smiling, cheering as loudly as he possibly can.
This time, when you start your first stunt, your feet land true.
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It probably isn’t the best idea to confess that you barely understand the rules of rugby, considering that you are on the frontline of every single game.
Sure, Jaemin may be the quarterback, but you’re not particularly sure what that means besides the fact that he’s set the highest record for goals scored in a single season.
However, you’ve simplified the rules sufficiently: When the ball enters the in-goal area, you cheer. Which is exactly what you’re doing, jumping up and down excitedly when Jaemin gains another point right as the buzzer goes off, signifying the end of the match.
Ningning is hugging your shoulders tightly, as the both of you watch the team do a victory run, Jaemin and Jeno making their ways back to the spectator stand first.
“I know I’ve seen you on the field a hundred times, but that was amazing,” you gush, watching as Jaemin tilts his head, pleased.
“You know, now that the season is over-” he says, and you arch an eyebrow curiously. “Yes?”
“- you don’t have any more excuses to avoid confessing to Donghyuck,” he finishes, smiling mischievously when your cheeks redden. Jeno nods in encouragement, and you realise that you’ve been set up by the two jocks in front of you.
In an attempt for support, you turn towards Ningning, but she shrugs. “They’re right. Giselle’s ideas were good, but I don’t think they’ll work for someone like him. You just need to say it directly.”
Her words cause your shoulders to sink slightly, and Karina, who’s finally noticed the little gathering, leans in.
“Just do it, Y/N. You never know. Besides, Donghyuck cares for you. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, he would never just end the friendship that way.”
“But what if he does? What if he only wants us to be friends but has to distance himself because of my feelings and we become strangers?”
Jaemin frowns slightly. “That sounds awfully specific.”
His comment causes Ningning to roll her eyes, and she places her other hand on your shoulder, turning you towards her.
“Look at me. I know you’re a literature student, but stop projecting yourself onto characters.”
Your mouth gapes open at her words, ready with a retort, but she continues.
“The both of you are not Laurie and Jo. You are Y/N and Donghyuck, and everything will be fine.”
“Y/N and Donghyuck,” you repeat, almost dazed as you look at Ningning, fear slowly solidifying into something a little more like confidence. Y/N and Donghyuck. It’s the simplest way to explain the both of you, but the mention of it also causes a twinge of your heart.
Being with Donghyuck is easy, something that you’ve been doing for most of your life. But it doesn’t feel like enough, not yet.
You want to belong to him, and you want Donghyuck to be yours.
“Y/N.” The familiar voice causes your heart to seize, and you turn to face the man himself, eyes bright as he looks at you. Karina lets out a soft laugh at your captivated expression, but you don’t bother to turn towards her.
The only thing that you catch is Jaemin leaning closer towards you. “Go get him, Y/N,” he whispers conspiratorially, and you swallow nervously before finally crossing the distance between you and Donghyuck. He looks even more stunning up close, honey-toned skin illuminated under the bright stadium lights.
“Hey.” Your mouth feels dry when you say it, stopping a few feet away from him.
His mouth curves into a barely-there smirk, and your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt nervously. “Ready to go?”
You nod, looping your arm through his and praying the motion comes off natural. Jaemin’s words are still ringing in your head, and you know the four of them are still staring unabashedly, but you shove them down in favour of basking in the moment. However, you can’t deny that you’re shifting closer and closer to saying fuck it and blurting out your feelings as each second ticks by.
It seems that rational thinking is harder to come by these days, especially when you’re with Donghyuck.
“Are you hungry? I ordered pizza already,” he tells you, and it makes you fall just a little bit more, the way he remembers the little things.
“Is it pepperoni?”
“Of course. With extra cheese. I know the way to your heart.”
He does. Donghyuck knows the way to your heart like he has a map, though you’re quite sure he could walk the metaphorical path blindfolded.
Or maybe the path is whichever way he steps. You’re not quite sure.
Donghyuck leads you towards the carpark, until he suddenly halts near the entrance of the stadium, expression changing from lighthearted to stone-faced. “Is something wrong?” You ask, brows furrowing in concern. But he remains silent, hesitating slightly before shrugging off his jacket.
“Wear this,” he instructs, but instead of placing it on your shoulders, Donghyuck ties it around your waist, fingers nimble. When he’s done, he looks up, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours, instead drifting further back and sharpening into a glare. You’ve never seen the boy angry before, and it isn’t directed at you.
“Donghyuck, what is it?” You look behind, only to be met with nothing but a view of the pitch. At your insistence, he scratches the back of his head, as if embarrassed at his sudden outburst. “It’s nothing,” he mumbles.
You make a pointed glance at the jacket around your waist, before glancing up at him, expectant. Donghyuck seems to realize he’s been backed into a corner, and hangs his head down slightly.
“It’s just-”
“Just what?”
“Some guys were looking at you,” he finally admits, and you suck in a breath out of surprise at his unexpected words. It’s not an unusual occurrence, considering you’re a cheerleader and there are always douchebags, even in your own school. You’ve been catcalled, wolf-whistled at - a few guys staring at your legs is barely anything, but you realise this is the first time Donghyuck is witnessing it firsthand, often not being on the pitch with you.
The protective gesture makes your heart skip a beat, however, and you decide it’s as good a time of any to get a gauge of Donghyuck’s feelings towards you.
“Were you jealous?” You quickly lean in as you pop the question, attempting to make your voice teasing to hide your true intentions. If anything, you’ll just brush it off as flirting between friends.
However, he remains silent, and the hope in your heart fizzles unstably as you wait for his response. When Donghyuck finally lifts his head, his eyes are hooded, filled with a dark intensity that makes your heart palpitate.
“And if I said I was?”
Your eyes widen imperceptibly at that, shifting backwards as Donghyuck takes a step closer, and another, until you feel your back press against his car, the cold metal forcing you to bite back a shiver. But Donghyuck only moves impossibly closer, until the tips of his scuffed boots are brushing your sneakers. A nervous laugh escapes you, eyes darting anywhere but him.
“You still haven’t responded to my question,” he points out, the corner of his mouth curled up as he looks at you, waiting.
You’re not sure if you’re even breathing, attempting to focus on anything except the boy right in front of you.
“Then- then I would ask you why,” you finally stutter out, and Donghyuck lets out an amused hum.
“Take a guess.”
You wonder if Donghyuck’s just teasing, or if he’s serious. If there’s even the slim possibility - any chance that he might feel the same way you do.
Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you feel brave. It makes you think that maybe, just maybe- you’ve found the path to his heart as well.
But you’re still scared, so you shake your head. “No. Tell me.”
You need to hear it from him, hear Donghyuck tell you that this isn’t just some pipe dream of yours.
He lets out a huff of amusement at your stubbornness. “Fine. I like you, L/N Y/N.”
The confession goes straight to your head, and you pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Really?”
Donghyuck stares at you in disbelief. “Yes, really. Why do you think I got jealous? I don’t want you to be with Jaemin, or any other guy. I want you to be with me.”
You didn’t think it was possible for him to fluster you even more, but it seems you’re dead wrong, as your cheeks redden further and you tear your gaze away from him. “Oh,” you breathe out, and Donghyuck looks at you with equal parts exasperation and adoration.
“If you’re going to reject me, do it now,” he adds, voice light, but there’s a vulnerability on his face, evident even in the poor lighting. You realise that he’s likely been full of doubt, right up until this very moment - not too much unlike yourself.
You’d be a fool to give this chance up, and there’s nothing to lose, not anymore, when Donghyuck’s already confirmed your dreams and turned them into reality.
“I like you too. So, so much,” you finally exhale out, and his expression softens into something like relief.
“Good. I was starting to think you’d never look my way,” he mutters, and you look at him incredulously.
“Are you kidding? I even asked Giselle for-” your mouth falls shut just in time, but he catches on quickly, mischief glinting.
“Asked her for what, Y/N?”
At this point, you figure it’s better to tell Donghyuck yourself, than let him find out through the grapevine.
“How to get you to fall in love with me,” you force out, and he lifts an eyebrow in response. “Is that what you attempting to play Overwatch was?”
You glare at him, feeling caught. “No!”
“Okay, well, then how about the skating- wait. Was Jaemin in on this?” He narrows his eyes, and you shrink under his gaze, only proving him right.
You’re not even surprised anymore and how Donghyuck managed to decipher each of Giselle’s tactics exactly, and you’re starting to wonder why you even trusted the girl in the first place.
Still, if it got you here, you suppose you owe the girl a thank you.
“I was right. He was in on it. I can’t believe you of all people would agree to something like this-”
That’s it. You’re not sure if you can take the embarrassment of Donghyuck slowly dismantling your plan any more, so you make another irrational decision.
Tiptoeing, you press a soft kiss to the boy’s lips.
It seems to work for a few seconds, Donghyuck freezing up and looking at you in disbelief. “Can we not talk about that anymore?” you ask sweetly, and he nods instinctively, a dazed expression on his face.
“You just kissed me,” he points out, and you nod, head tilting to the side in confusion. “Yeah.”
“You just kissed me.”
“Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t stop repeating the same sentence-”
“Let’s do that again.” He doesn’t hesitate to cut you off, hands gripping onto your hips firmly and pulling you towards him.
If your kiss was a peck, Donghyuck is completely different, eagerly stealing the air from your lungs as his mouth slots gently over yours, tugging gently on your bottom lip.
For someone who’s never dated, he’s an insanely good kisser, and it thrills and terrifies you in equal measure.
Your hands make their way to his chest unconsciously, fisting in the cotton material of his shirt. But he doesn’t stop, and you gasp when his tongue brushes against yours briefly. It’s so very different from the best friend you know and love, the one who’s always bright and focused - the way he kisses you is unrestrained and messy, almost as if he can’t quite get enough of you.
Your brain is short-circuiting, only tuned in to the feeling of Donghyuck’s lips moving against your own. You’re well aware that anyone could interrupt and resign you to months of endless teasing, but you can’t seem to get yourself to care, or stop.
It seems like too short a time when Donghyuck finally allows you some air, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. Even then, he doesn’t make any move to distance himself, breath fanning over your face with every exhale.
“Does this…does this mean we’re a thing now?” you ask, only realizing how dumb your question is once it escapes. However, Donghyuck doesn’t seem to care, looking at you with an expression so fond that it makes you blush.
“Yes. I mean, if you want to. I know I do,” he replies quickly, and your heart feels so full that it might burst as you look at your best friend-turned-boyfriend.
“I’ve never wanted anything more.”
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The months of October and November have affectionately been coined ‘break-up season’ by your entire school, owing to the sheer number of couples that fail to last under the pressure of academic expectations and the stress of final exams.
But if anything, the pursuit of the most important grades of your entire high school life has only brought you and Donghyuck closer, brief kisses shared in the library over textbooks and fingers intertwined whenever he’s sitting with you.
Call it trauma bonding, but it’s not as if you and Donghyuck haven’t been through dozens of other breakup seasons. It’s just a little more applicable now that the both of you are dating.
“Look, if I fail, I just won’t go to university. I’ll hone my other skills.”
You’re currently standing opposite Donghyuck in your bedroom, hands flung out to emphasise your point, and a bemused expression appears on his face at your words.
“You won’t fail, Y/N.”
“Yeah, but in the hypothetical situation that I do, I need to be ready to practise to be a trophy wife.”
“There’s practice for that?”
“Of course,” you reply earnestly. Donghyuck crosses his legs on your duvet, looking at you disbelievingly.
“Didn’t you see that one video? Of the computer engineer and his trophy wife. She’s retired at twenty-six, Donghyuck. It’s the dream.”
“Am I supposed to be the computer engineer?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.
“Does that mean you’re marrying me? You should have told me this was a proposal, Y/N. I would have prepared something,” he replies smoothly, tugging you closer to him by wrapping his fingers around your wrist.
Dating Donghyuck has only caused his flirtatious teasing to increase in intensity, and you’re not sure if your heart might just jump out of your chest one day from his actions. “You wish,” you retort weakly, giving in when he tugs you down to sit next to him.
“I do,” he replies, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your palm, and your eyes widen at his candidness. You drag your hands, and subsequently one of his, up to cover your face, embarrassed.
“You can’t just say things like that!”
“You’re the one who brought up being my trophy wife! What was I supposed to do, say no?”
You don’t reply, but Donghyuck’s stronger than you, eventually pulling your hands away by the wrists.
“In all seriousness, though, I mean it,” he says, looking at you insistently.
“But we’re still so young,” you mumble back. “We’ve barely graduated high school, and you’re saying this?”
“I’m not saying we should get married right now, obviously. I’m just saying that I’ve already spent most of my life with you-” he shifts slightly closer to you. “-what’s a few more decades?”
He asks the question earnestly, enunciating each and every syllable and allowing you to realise that he’s being perfectly honest - Donghyuck means every word. You’re suddenly gripped by longing as you look at him, taking in each and every one of the features that you have memorized by heart.
He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful, and he’s yours.
Student council president, physics nerd, gamer, budding musician - they’re all elements of Donghyuck that make him him, and every part is precious to you. There’s a sort of desperation that tugs at you, an unfamiliar feeling that doesn’t seem to make sense - you’re already dating him. What else could you possibly want?
Until the words appear in your mind, the realization dawning clear as day.
Like isn’t big enough of a word to encapsulate what you feel for Donghyuck, to represent the time you’ve spent with him. You’ve loved him since the first time he stood in your kitchen and attempted to bake a cake for your birthday, since he passed you your first Christmas present and gave you a kiss on your cheek when the both of you were seven, the moment immortalized in a photo frame above your bookshelf.
You’ve been head over heels for Donghyuck since he sat down on your bed and let you put face glitter along his cheekbones, or when he let you make an extra dish in Overcooked, even if it meant the both of you got fewer points. And you fall a little bit more each time he helps to massage your shoulders after practice, or when he kisses you with dizzying passion.
And you’re quite sure he knows you love him, from the way you remember the way he likes his ramen to having his favourite songs saved into your playlists. Or from how you’ve willingly watched Chicken Little with him, or made twenty pages of Languages notes for him to study before the exam. But you want to tell him, just because something about verbalizing it feels necessary.
Ningning might tease you for being a typical literature student, but you need to put your love for Donghyuck into words.
Which is why your voice doesn’t waver as you meet Donghyuck’s eyes, the warmth and adoration in his gaze reflected in yours.
“I love you, Donghyuck. You don’t have to say it back, of course, but I wanted you to know-”
He doesn’t say it back, but you get your answer when he kisses you again. It’s less hungry and more sweet, Donghyuck holding you as if you’re something fragile, something to be treasured.
You take the time to savour the moment, basking in the little bubble that he has created around the both of you. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel Donghyuck smiling into the kiss, unable to hide his joy.
You never needed three ways to get Donghyuck to fall in love with you - he already had. All the both of you needed was a little bravery, that small push that would convince you to take the jump from friendship to romance.
“You look pretty like this,” he whispers, soft enough for only you to hear.
You’re not sure how to respond to that. Like anyone else, you have days where you feel like you look good, or times when Karina and Ningning are there to doll you up. But having Donghyuck call you pretty feels different, perhaps just because of how much he means to you.
“Thanks. You’re…pretty too,” you say absentmindedly, causing Donghyuck to huff a laugh.
“Really?” He asks, batting his eyelashes.
That earns Donghyuck a swat on his back, but you’re laughing as he falls back dramatically, pulling you down with him.
Just like that, the tender moment is broken, but you don’t mind it, not when he’s the one making you laugh.
“Today’s supposed to be movie night. What are we watching?” You ask, feeling the bed shift as Donghyuck turns to face you, resting his head on his hand.
“I was thinking The Notebook,” he suggests, and you try not to make your wince too obvious.
“But it’s so unrealistic.” Donghyuck lets out an affronted gasp at your words, pinching your side. “I will have you know The Notebook is one of the greatest romantic movies of all time-”
You shake your head resolutely, watching as his face falls. “Nope. Most definitely not,” you declare, and Donghyuck pouts slightly, head falling back onto the mattress. It takes a few moments of him staring at the ceiling before you hear a noise of amusement, and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning.
“Did you think of something?” You ask, and when he faces you this time, his eyes are alight with mischief, mouth curled into a lazy smirk.
“We can do…other things.”
Your thoughts immediately drift haywire, and you look up at him, eyes wide. “Like what?”
“Like-” Donghyuck leans in tantalizingly close, the scent of his shampoo filling your nose, and his fingers brush over your lips just briefly.
“Kissing?” You respond reflexively, and his grin turns wider. “You suggested that, not me,” he retorts, but his eyes dart down towards your mouth anyways.
There isn’t any time for you to bite back a reply, before he finally closes the gap and connects your mouth with his. Donghyuck circles slow, lazy circles over your hipbone as he leans into you, and you place your hand on the nape of his neck to pull him closer.
When you push him away briefly for air, your cheeks are flushed, but Donghyuck looks just as affected as you are, hair messy from lying on the bed.
“I think we should scrap movie night. We can just do this instead,” he puts forth, and you nod eagerly, causing his grip on your waist to tighten.
“Sounds good to me.”
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taglist (let me know if you would like to be added for my future works!) ♠ @hyucksdarling @tonicandjins @rosariafanaccount @sundamariis @smwhrinthehaze @renjunphile @loevngyuno @@doieslefttoe @jvjsssnaa @liliansun @pockyandme @haechoshi
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glitchsung · 2 months
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[9:37 PM] , @junghyucknation
[9:14 PM] , @chittsu
grasping , @angelicmark 4.2k
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jenosz · 1 year
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nct dream missing you on tour (text ver)
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it took me so embarrassingly long to post a text fic i am so so sorry, also ive been so inactive i saw the dreamies (jeno my lover) n i’ve been working my ass off to be able to see rv in june!! will try to be more active now sorry!! masterlist here <3
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2K notes · View notes
ruwriteshours · 5 months
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✰ RUNNING AWAY AFTER CONFESSING TO THEM ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ OT7! DREAMIES
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pairing: OT7! dreamies x fem!reader
genre: fluff, suggestive, slight angst
warning: shaming reader for being a virgin, a whole lot of cliche, lots of hand grabbing and pulling lol, i got a little too carried away with Haechan & Jeno :p
@xrenjunniesx did smtg similar to this and i got inspired <3
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✰ MARK.
"Mark, you have to give yourself a break." You advised, watching as he rubbed his face in exhaustion.
It's been five hours since Mark spent doing his song-writings in his room for his upcoming comeback. As much as you admired his hardwork, you also hated when he overworked himself.
As his best friend, you wanted him to get the rest he deserves but it was impossible for the stubborn boy to succumb to your wishes.
Oh, how much you love him.
Rolling over the bed as Mark continued to do his work on his desk, you begin walking over and snatching his pen mid-way while he was writing.
Mark let out a disgruntled grunt, hand reaching out to grab onto it but you only held it away further.
"Give it back, I still have tons to finish!"
"Not until you get some rest." You stuck your tongue out defiantly, "You've been working for hours, just come here and talk to me for awhile and then you can go back, please?"
Mark looked into your eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat.
"Fine."
And that's when the both of you find yourself laughing away from the stories you both shared from your childhood.
"Remember that time when you got braces and you were complaining that you couldn't eat meat." You laughed, "So you blended the chicken and started drinking it!"
"Oh man, it tasted horrible. I don't know why I did that." He cackled. "And I look so ugly in braces too!"
"That's not true." You disagreed, watching as he was wiping away a tear from his eye.
"If anything you looked cute." You mumbled, looking down at your feet. "I liked you back then too."
Shit! You didn't mean to say that!
"What was that?"
Fuck! You were screwed.
"Huh? Nothing." You backed away.
"I couldn't hear you just now. Tell me!" Mark pushed on, holding onto your arm to prevent you from retreating.
You pulled away from his grip.
"It's nothing!" You tried again, standing up onto your feet hastily.
"It's not nothing when you're literally red in the face." He said, making a move to stand up as well. "Come on, tell me. We promised not to keep secrets from each other."
"Just let it go, Mark." You groaned, hiding your embarassment.
"We're literally best friends, you have to tell me."
"That's literally the problem!" You snapped.
"What?" Mark paused, looking at you with wide eyes.
"I said you looked cute in braces because I like you back when we were kids." You pulled your hair in frustation, "And I still like you now! Okay? I have always like you more than a best friend!"
As soon as those words leave your mouth, you could feel the clockwork ticking slow, nibbling your bottom lip in nervousness as you watch Mark's face contort to confusion.
Anxiety arises when he begins to open his mouth, but you didn't let him say anything when you dashed out of the room and into the living room, ignoring his calls.
"Hey! Wait, where are you going?" His voice was nearer to you than you expect.
Just as you were about to open the front door, it was slammed shut when his palm made contact with it.
You mentally cursed Mark for his long legs, having that advantage to catch up to you. You could feel his hot breath at the back of your neck, you shuddered at the contact, refusing to turn around despite his body being much closer to you than it has ever gotten.
"Turn around," He demanded, your name escaping his mouth. His voice tickling your ears as you made the move to turn, eyes closed from the sheer shame of confessing to your best friend.
You could hear his chuckle, making you close your eyes even more tightly, if that was even possible. You were definitely sure that your face was redder than before, not having to expect the situation to unfold in the way it has.
"Open your eyes." He said softly.
However, he was greeted with a shake of the head from you, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.
He pouted, though you couldn't see as you were still having an internal battle with yourself.
Just then, an idea popped into Mark's mind, hand slowly reaching out to your neck, goosebumps filled in your body as he lifted your head higher. You were confused with his actions and just as you were about to ask him what he was doing, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.
You let out a sound of suprise as you began to kiss him back on instinct, teeth clashing slightly as his warm lips moulded into yours with such intensity that you didn't want the moment to go away too soon.
Unfortunately, Mark pulled away, which caused you to open your eyes in disappointment.
However, just as you meet his eyes, you could see him smile smugly, face inches away from you.
"I guess you can open your eyes." He teased, which only made you more embarassed, looking away but you were immediately pulled back by his hands and was met with another surging kiss, which lasted longer than the previous one.
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✰ RENJUN.
The thing about your friendship with Renjun was that the both of you provide equal balances when it came to taking care of each other. It was never one sided.
He was your emotional support and so were you to him. It was a solid friendship from the start, so it wasn't out of the usual for him to get extra protective whenever you would injure yourself during practice.
So you couldn't understand why you felt a sudden tinge of butterfly at the pit of your stomach this time when he carried you out of the practice room after you sprained your ankle.
In fact, it was such a normal occurence that even your friends didn't bat an eye. You ignored it, thinking that you were still skitterish and that the stupid feeling will eventually go away but the more Renjun took care of you, the more flustered you felt. Flushed faced and stuttering profusely when he would ask if you were okay.
"I told you not to try out that dance move!" He scolded you gently, carrying you in a piggyback as he nagged at you like a worried mom.
Again, usually you would take his gesture nonchalantly but this time, you would only apologise while hiding your face at the crook of his neck.
Renjun smiled at your action, finding you adorable.
"You're lucky you have me."
Ever since then, you began avoiding him for the sake of saving yourself from rejection, you knew deep down that Renjun couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. It even took awhile for you to process your emotions towards him but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense.
Renjun had been there for you, had been your number one support system and was overall, kind, generous and caring. Who wouldn't want him?
Unfortunately, you couldn't take that risk and opted to avoid him until you eventually got over it.
Little did you know, Renjun didn't like it one bit.
Especially when you would go as far as to turn the other way when he would approach you. He let it slide initially, thinking you needed space and tried to be understanding.
However, he was very concerned when you began to act weirdly around him, being too anxious to talk to him and being way too overly jumpy when he would touch your shoulder or doing something as simple as a brush on the hand. He thought he had done something to scare you and he wanted to apologise if he did.
But when he came up to you and did so, he was very shocked to find out your actual reasoning.
"Look, it's not you. It's me!" You cringed, hating the way you sounded. Renjun raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced with your words as well. "I'm serious! Lately, I've been having this strong feelings towards you and I can't help but feel nervous around you."
"What 'strong feelings'?" He asked.
"Do I really need to spell out for you?" You retorted, "I. Like. You."
His eyes widened at your straightforward confession, but you were quick to backtrack on your words when you realised you had just spoken aloud impulsively.
"But it's nothing serious— I swear! I'm just distancing myself so that I can get over it and we can be back as friends!" You chuckled nervously, not wanting to embarass yourself more than you probably have.
Without even looking at him, you turned your heels and began speed-walking away, wanting nothing more than to burn a hole in the ground.
Before you could make your exit, he gripped onto your hand, stopping you from your escape.
"You do have a way of confessing, don't you?" He scoffed playfully, pulling you closer so that your chest would touch his. "Dummy, why would you try to get over your feelings for me?"
"Because I know you don't feel the same— ow!"
You rubbed your forehead where Renjun flicked at, glaring at the boy.
"Idiot, you didn't even let me say anything."
"W-What?"
He leaned in closer, breath fanning your face before he gave you a light peck on the lips.
"I like you too."
And that is when you gained the confidence to pull him by the collar to steal another kiss.
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✰ HAECHAN.
"Hey! Get back here!" The infuriating male chased after you, watching as you fastened your pace whenever you saw him.
For the past few days, Haechan had noticed your obvious distance towards him, which only made him upset whenever you refused to acknowledge him. He would sent you texts everyday but was only met by a single tick.
It was frustating to see you get so comfortable around his friends but immediately turning stoned-faced when it came to him, especially when you were the closest to him than anyone else!
Having had enough of your sudden cold attitude towards him, he was determined to find out why.
"What do you want, Donghyuck?" You asked in mild annoyance, partially to cover up the fact that your heartbeat kept racing whenever he was near you.
"Okay, that's it! What's your problem with me." Haechan huffed, arms crossed as he blocked you from the door.
"I don't have a problem with you." You lied.
"Then why do you keep avoiding me?" He asked sternly.
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"We're not gonna talk in circles here." He groaned.
"Great, so let me out." You pushed him aside and began walking towards the door.
You gasped in shock when Haechan held your waist to tug your body closer, face buried in your neck. "Haec—"
"Tell me what's wrong." He said, softly this time.
You gulped nervously, hand holding onto his as you tried to remove yourself away from him, but the persistent male held on tighter.
"I'll let go after you tell me the truth." His voice muffled against your sweatshirt.
"Promise you won't laugh at me?" You asked shakily.
"I promise."
He looked up, piercing eyes gazed onto yours as he saw your pinky out in the open, waiting for his to intertwine against it. He smiled softly and reached out for your hand.
You sighed, mind going haywire as you tried to calm your nerves.
"I like you, Haechan. Like— really, really like you." You emphasised, eyes avoiding his as it was focused on your feet, "I got jealous when you got touchy with her because you were never like that to me."
You mumbled the last part.
"Her? You mean, my junior?" He clarified.
"Yeah.." You trailed off, hating how pathetic you sounded.
A moment of silence passed by when you heard Heachan let out a humouress laugh. You frowned, heart clenching at the thought of him mocking you.
"I knew it!" You shook your head, "I should've never told you anything. Forget I said anything." And with that, you took off.
You ran as fast as you could, desperately trying to get away from the most humiliating situation that you had stupidly gotten yourself into.
Too consumed in your self-pity, you didn't notice an incoming car driving its way towards your direction. It was when a loud honk snapped you out of trance but even then, it was too late.
Just as you were about to accept your fate, a hand pulled you, making you collide with the person.
"Idiot, did you not see where you're running!" Haechan yelled, face full of worry as he scanned over your body to look for any injuries.
"You promised you wouldn't make fun of me." You teared up, ignoring his previous question.
"No! I wasn't making fun of you." He explained, hand gripping your shoulder in an attempt to make you look at him. "I just find it funny that you would get jealous of her."
"I fail to see how that's funny." You crossed your arms.
"It's just, I should be the one confessing first." He revealed.
"What—"
"And don't even get me started on how Renjun would get all up on you whenever he sees you. I hate that shit." He rambled on.
"You were jealous." You concluded.
"Was that not obvious?" He shrugged. "So, I guess we both have a fair share of jealousy."
"But we were just talking about you." You justified, still in shock with his confession.
"Doesn't matter, now that we've both declared our feelings, he needs to back away from my girl." He smiled proudly.
"Um, excuse me. Who said I wanted to be your girl?"
"I literally chased you down the street like a maniac, are you really gonna prolong the inevitable?" He deadpanned.
"Hm," You pretended to think, "Walk me back home first then maybe I'll consider."
"I'll do more than just walk you back home."
"Watch it." You said sternly, face beet red as his cocky smirk was plastered on his face.
"God, you're so sexy when you're serious." He leaned over to give you a peck on the lips, "But let's see how serious you can get when I'm balls deep inside you."
And with that, Haechan did fulfill his promise by doing more than just walking you back home.
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✰ JENO.
"I'm sure Jeno likes you." Haechan repeated for what seems to be the fourth time.
"Of course he likes me," You deadpanned, holding onto two pieces of dresses that you doubt would look good on you. "I'm his friend but does he like me?"
"Again, yes. He does." The male groaned, looking around to see piles of clothes scattered across your room. "You don't need to dress yourself up too much, he loves your own style."
You frowned, recalling the fretful memory a few days back.
"I heard Jeno likes girly girls."
"Yeah, that's what I heard too." Another one gushed, "That's why I don't see her as a competition.
"I know right. I mean, look at her!"
"Jeno must be blind if he ever goes out with her!"
And to think you met him and started off as casual flirting.
"That's a lie. Do you know how many pretty girls that are just drop-dead gorgeous? And you'd think he'd settle for this?"
"You're underestimating yourself, just ask him out normally." He shrugged, as if it was the most simplest thing you could do.
"Like this?" You asked incredulously, gesturing to your clothes.
"What the fuck does that even mean?"
"Ask him out with a baggy shirt and sweatpants? Are you serious?" You threw your dress onto the floor. "He'll laugh in my face, for crying out loud!"
"Look, I'm not gonna feed into your delusions so I'm gonna head outside and by the time I get back, you better be done." He walked out, ignoring your calls for him to come back.
In the end, you just settled with a warm sweatshirt and a denim skirt. It wasn't too fancy but it definitely wasn't your usual style.
"Are you done yet!" Haechan yelled from the other side of the door, too which you answered back, opening the door as he eyed your outfit with a hum of approval. "Not bad. Let's go."
The whole outing went relatively well, I mean—as well as it could cosidering your failed attempts at trying to ask Jeno out in private was very evident. A second couldn't go smoothly when girls would swoop in and join in the conversation, where you would have to awkwardly leave when the girls would get too flirty.
Little did you know, Jeno dreaded the attention, desperately wanting to spend some alone time with you. He sighed in defeat as he tried to tune out the conversation, shoulder slumping when you walked away.
As if the night couldn't get worse, Mark had drunkedly suggested to play a game of truth or dare. You had reluctantly agreed as Haechan practically pushed you in the circle. You blushed when Jeno sat by your other side, knees touching yours.
Rowdiness consumes the room as each took their turns, you looked away in disgust as Haechan made out with a girl as a dare. When it came to your turn, you had meekly picked truth, causing the room to let out sounds of disappointment.
"Okay." Jaemin smirked, watching you tensed up when he called your name. "When was the last time you hooked up?"
You looked down in shame, knowing that you hadn't been intimate with anyone for as long as you could remember.
Giggles could be heard as the girls pocked fun at you, one of them decided to berate you. "Of course she hasn't done anything. Why would you even bother asking her that?"
You were about to speak up when someone beat you to it.
"There's nothing wrong with that." Jeno spoke up, glaring at the girls. "And there isn't anything cool about shaming others for it, too."
"I'm not shaming her, I just think it's pathetic that she hasn't." She scoffed playfully.
"And you think it's not pathetic that you think you're better than her because of that." Silence filled the room as the girl stuttered, tears welling up her eyes.
"I—"
"For the record, I wouldn't fuck you even if I got paid to do it."
The girl stood up and ran away in embarassment, other girls following behind while glaring at you and Jeno.
It was silent for awhile before Mark spoke up.
"Well, this was fun."
After the awkward incident, the party ended shortly after. Slowly the crowd became lesser and you think it's time to leave after helping with the clean-up. Haechan was your ride and you had to wait outside his car alone while he went to the bathroom. You shivered at the cold breeze when suddenly, you felt a jacket wrapped around you.
Turning around, you saw Jeno, with a big smile as his eyes sparkled under the light. You awkwardly shifted, too shy to look at him for a little longer.
"You okay?" He spoke up, to which you give a firm nod.
"Thank you for standing up to me, by the way."
"That was nothing." He shrugged, "I would have done it to any friend."
Friend.
"Of course, we're friends." You gulped, fighting back tears, "That's all we'll ever be."
He called out your name with a hint of confusion, "What's wrong?"
"You know, I don't think I can stay friends with you." You told him.
"W-What, why?" He asked, taking a step closer towards you.
"I just don't know if I can ever deal with just being your friend." You revealed, "I mean, I can't exactly blame you either, I'm just an idiot for liking someone that's out of my league."
You didn't mean to pour all of your doubt onto Jeno but it was something that had been kept inside your heart for the longest time and it just burst out unexpectedly. Luckily, your conscience stopped you from spilling out more than what you have, shaking your head when he would try to come near you.
"Shit! Just ignore what I said." You said regretfully.
"No, talk to me." He pleaded, your name escaping his lips.
"Just let it go, Jeno." You stepped back, "Forget about it, please."
"No, there's no way I'm forgetting what you just said."
Just as he was about to speak again, Haechan came out, to which you signed in relief when he clicked his car keys, giving you the opportunity to slide in his car, Jeno following behind to stop you.
"You can't leave." Jeno pleaded, "We have to talk about this."
"Leave me alone, Jeno."
"What's going on?" Haechan spoke up, eyeing the two of you.
"I just really want to go home." You ignored Haechan's question, he didn't push further and only gave Jeno a look.
Thankfully, Jeno gave you space, but not before giving you one last glance as you sat on the passenger seat, you didn't bother looking at him, eyes focused on the front as Haechan entered the car.
The whole car ride was silent, Haechan didn't bother asking you what had happened, knowing that you didn't want to talk about it.
"Call me if you need anything." He said.
"Thank you." You closed his door before making your way to your apartment, keys in hand.
You stopped dead in tracks when you see a familiar figure standing outside your door, drops of sweats on his forehead as his shirt was wrinked up. You gulped nervously, mentally preparing yourself as you walked up to your door.
Jeno's head immediately turned towards you, he stood in front of your door with his arms crossed, face full of determination as he stared you down.
"Can you move." You looked down at your feet.
"Not until we talk." He said firmly.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Well, maybe to you but I have a lot to say." He said sternly, "You didn't even let me say anything before you start assuming that I wasn't interested."
"You said I'm your friend." You frowned, confused with his words, "Why shouldn't I assume that!"
"Because I thought you liked Haechan!" He shouted, chest heaving up and down.
"W—What, why?"
"Well, for one, you came to the party with him, and two, both of you would always come in pairs all the damn time so I'm sorry if I saw it the wrong way!"
"You should be because there's nothing going on between me and Haechan." You explained.
"I got that now." He muttered sarcatically, "And what were you even talking about with 'liking someone out of your league'?"
"It's pretty self-explanatory!" You deadpanned, "You're hot— like really hot, and look at me, you'd want to go out with someone who looks like this!"
"Someone as gorgeous as you, yeah!"
"You don't understand!"
"Make me understand then!"
"I'm sorry." A woman's voice spoke up, the room beside you opened as she walked outside the hallway, "Could you both keep it down a little, I have work the next morning."
"Sorry." The both of you mumbled in unison.
"We're done here." You said, taking your keys to open the door as you walked in to slam it shut on him.
However, he put his foot in between the door before squeezing his way inside. "Could you stop running away from me, we're having a serious conversation here!"
"Well, how about I take back my confession so you don't have to stress yourself out too much."
"There's no way I'm letting you take that back!"
"Well, too bad. I did." You crossed your arms, as if you had solved the problem, but your smile quickly dropped when you noticed his expression.
"Are you sure about that?" He smirked, trapping you behind a wall as his arms caged around you.
"What are you doing?" You asked nervously, watching as his eyes looked at you up and down with hunger.
"Changing your mind." His mouth made contact with your neck as you let out a loud moan.
You were in for a long night.
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✰ JAEMIN.
Jaemin had always been a romantic. To you, it could come as an advantage or the complete opposite. For one, he would always notice the little things that would upset you, offering comfort and food to cheer you up and overall being the most caring and loving friend someone could ask for. However, his charms played a huge part in fuelling your hopes towards the lover boy. You couldn't risk destroying whatever you had with Jaemin just because you couldn't control your emotions. For that, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you truly felt.
This was one of those days. You were sick for the past few days and Jaemin had took the liberty of taking care of you, despite you warning him that he could catch your illness. The boy couldn't care less.
He placed a hot cloth on your forehead, bring you a bowl of soup that his mom made and rub circles at the your hand. All of this actions were too overwhelming for you to the point where you had accidentally blurted out your feelings towards him.
"You're such a boyfriend material, Jaem. I wish you knew how much I love you." You sighed dreamily.
Of course, in your sickened state, you hadn't realised and went back to sleep after your confession.
Jaemin chuckled at that and gently caressed your cheeks, admiring you, even though you were basically at your most unappealing state, tissues stuck up your nose as your eyes were puffy from the flu. Eventually after a few minutes, he too dozed off.
When you had awoken up the next morning, you felt much better than before, thanks to Jaemin. As you shuffled your way to the kitchen, you could already see him cooking up something. You quietly sat down on the stool as you watched him do his thing.
When he turned around, he gave you one of his signature smile that made your heart melt.
"You feeling alright?" He walked over, handing you a plate of omelette.
"Yeah." You yawned, "Thanks for taking care of me, Jaem."
"Of course, why wouldn't I take care of the girl who's in love with me?" He teased, making you freeze in your seat, eyes widening at his words.
"W—What are you talking about, idiot?" You attempted to cover up, chuckling nervously when he rounded to corner to get close to you, in which you backed away in return.
"Come on, let's not kid ourselves here." He smirked, "How long were you gonna keep your feelings hidden away from me?"
You began backing away more further, "Stop coming nearer, you freak!"
"Stop running away then!"
"Get away!"
"Get back here, missy!"
He broke out to a sprint, chasing you around the house when you began picking up your steps. You were red from embarassment and Jaemin didn't make things any better for you.
"Stop running!"
"Never!"
Unfortunately, you did stopped when Jaemin tackled you down on the couch, his hands holding your arms to restrain you from moving. You squirmed under his touch, humiliated that you had just gotten caught.
He began tickling you, to which you only thrash around, laughing hysterically as you begged him to stop.
"I'll stop when you don't make a move to run again." His hands made its way towards your stomach, continuing his attack, "Do we have a deal?"
"Deal! Deal! Just stop!"
True to his words, he did and that's when the laughter died down as the both of you stared into each other's eyes, lost in the moment as he began to lean in. You didn't get to process his actioms before you began kissing him back, hands wrapped around his neck to pull him closer as he gripped onto the couch to support his balance, hovering over you as you both made out.
After awhile, you pulled away, to which Jaemin leaned in again, wanting to get another kiss.
"I'm still sick, Jaem." You leaned away.
"I don't care."
And with that, his lips reconnected with yours once again.
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✰ CHENLE.
"Idiot, watch where you're going." Chenle scoffed, bumping his shoulder against yours. "I almost spilled my drink on my shirt because of you."
You rolled your eyes at the taller male. Chenle had been your arch nemesis since the dawn of time. It was never usually serious though, more of light jabs and insult thrown at each other but none were ever meant to be hurtful. You never really hated Chenle, it's just that you had this dynamic where bickering was a constant need to keep the conversations going with him. And you really like aggravating the hot-headed male.
"Whatever, I bet it would make it look better than whatever you're wearing."
"You little bitc—"
"Okay!" Jisung interjected, squeezing his way between the two of you, hand awkwardly stretched to keep a distance. "Let's have fun at this party and not cause unnecessary fights."
"But she— fuck!" Chenle groaned, bending down slightly to rub his ankle that Jisung had kicked, glaring at the male. "Right, Chenle?"
Chenle let out a sigh of defeat before nodding along to his best friend's words, burning holes at your face when you snickered at him.
The night went on, full of alcohol and dancing and you were honestly on the brink of passing out but you kept downing down shots, your body at a point of losing its own control.
"Okay, that's enough." Chenle snatched your glass away, which caused you to whine obnoxiously.
"Dude, you're completely intoxicated. I'm taking you home."
"N-No! I wanna stay! It's fun here." You slurred, stumbling with your balance.
"Uhuh, come on." He held your waist to balance you up, "Let's go."
After bidding goodbye to your friends, he guided you towards his car and just when he tucked you into the passenger seat and helped you with the seatbelt, your words made him paused his actions.
"You know, Chenle. You're lucky I like you because I would never let anyone do this to me."
"Is that so?" He hummed.
"Mhm, here feel my heartbeat." You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest, he could feel your heartbeat beating fast, "It always like that whenever I'm around you."
He smiled softly, a blush crept on his face. "Let's get you back home, cutie."
The following day felt like a blur, you groaned when you stirred yourself awake, only to be greeted by three missed calls from someone.
You grabbed your phone and looked through the call sheet to check who it was, your brows furrowed in confusion when you saw that those three calls came from Chenle.
Just as you were about to ponder more, your phone began to vibrate and he called you again, making you answer his call with a loud huff.
"What do you want?" You said.
"Shower and get ready, I'll pick you up."
When you were about to reply, he had already hung up. In your tired state, you didn't have room to argue and you shuffled your way to the bathroom, yawning loudly in the process.
"Mind telling me why you're acting so weird today?" You entered his car, watching as he helped put on the seatbelt for you.
"Can't I just be nice today?" He shrugged, a smug smile on his lips.
Throughout the car ride, he would occasionally steal glances in your way and purposely shift in his car seat to get closer to you. At first, you didn't think much of it and assumed that you were just overthinking but the more you could feel his arms brushed up against yours when he made a u-turn, the more you couldn't contain your flustered state. Letting a noise of complaint when you realised that he was doing it intentionally.
"Ugh, is it something I did yesterday? I swear, whatever I did or say means nothing. I was drunk." You explained, once he had parked his car outside your destination.
He wasn't fully convinced with your words, "Haven't you heard of 'drunk words, sober thoughts'?"
"Just tell me what I did—"
"You confessed your undying love for me." He revealed, making your eyes widened as you let his words sink in.
"You said I was the reason your heartbeat's beating so fast everytime." He came in closer, hand reaching out to hold your palm, "Let's put that to the test and see if you're lying."
Truth be told, your heart rate was beating so fast that you swore you could hear it. Embarassment flooded through your face as your only thought was fleeing out of the car, reaching out for the door handle, your heart dropped when it clicked back in place.
"Nuh-uh, I knew you were gonna run away." He tsked, "Come on, sweetheart, nothing to be embarassed about."
"Ugh, Chenle. Let me out!" You groaned stubbornly. "This is kidnapping!"
"You're such a drama queen, at least turn around and look at me."
"No!" You refused, "If I do, I feel like I'm gonna humiliate myself further!"
"You won't, just look at me please." He said softly, hand gently holding onto your shoulder to turn you around.
Just as you did so, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. His other hand cupping your cheeks as his teeth gently bite your bottom lip, causing you to gasp as he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside.
For a moment, you indulged yourself into the kiss, hand reaching out to tug his hair as you both made out in his car.
Pulling away, you slowly opened your eyes, only to be greeted by a cocky smile from Chenle.
"No more running away, we're together now." His hands made its way to yours as he interlocked it.
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✰ JISUNG.
"Do you think this girl looks cute?" Jisung showed you his phone, for what felt like the tenth time, at this point, you were grown tired at his obliviousness to your bubbling jealousy.
"I don't know, does she?" You asked in annoyance, trying to appear as if the topic bores you.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." He scratched his head awkwardly, looking back and forth between his phone and your disinterested figure.
"Are you serious, right now?"
"What?" He tilted his head in confusion.
"Nothing." You huffed, "It's whatever."
"I'II help you find a guy too if that's what you're angry about." He muttered, as if that was what you were truly upset about.
"It's not even about that!" You snapped, head turning back towards the TV screen as you tried to contain your emotions.
"Then what is?"
"Forget it!"
"No, something I'm doing is upsetting you and I want to know what."
"Fine." You looked at him, watching as he slightly flinced at how fast you turned. "Since you want to know so much, I like you Jisung." You rambled on, "And it hurts when you don't feel the same! Watching you for hours finding some chick all while trying to keep it to myself at the fact that I'm madly in love with you!"
You let out a breathe you didn't know that you had held for so long, conscience crept in when you realised you had exposed yourself a little too much. Regret started seeping in as you began rushing to collect your things to leave his apartment before you embarass yourself further.
"Fuck! I should go."
"Wait!" He grabbed onto your hand, preventing you from moving.
You tried to pull away from his hold, shaking your head when he came closer.
"Just leave me alone for now, okay?" You pleaded, "I really need time away from you."
He seemed to hesitate, hand still gripping onto yours when he realised your distress state and eventually loosened his hold, giving you the chance to run away.
Ji: 'I hope you get home safe.'
Ji: 'I know you want space but I really want you to know how much I care about you. Talk to me when you're ready, I'll wait.'
It's been a few days since you've been actively ignoring Jisung, despite him agreeing to give you space, he didn't necessarily stopped checking in with you through messages, to which you only replied dryly.
Other than that, he didn't try to approach you and would only give you a small smile from a distance.
Days went by till weeks and you were still in the process of getting over him. It seems as if the odds were in your favour when you met a a friend of a friend, you both seemed to be getting along well and you agreed to hang out with him when he offered.
Hearing this, Jisung didn't like it one bit. Hating the fact that you were trying to get over him. He rushed at your apartment door, banging on it repeatedly, stopping when you opened it abruptly.
"Jisung?" You asked, "What are you doing here—"
You were cut off when he engulfed you in a tight hug, face buried in your neck as he mumbled something you couldn't quite understand.
"What?"
"I said don't go on the date with him." He pleaded, eyes glossy as he looked at you. "I was an idiot, I should've realised it sooner. I love you too and I was too scared to admit it too!"
You gasped in shock but Jisung still continued on.
"I tried to move on because I thought you didn't feel the same but when you confessed to me that day, I was happy." He explained, "You told me you needed space so I gave it to you, but I can't let you get over me. I won't let you!"
He sobbed quietly in your arms while you tried to soothe him.
"Calm down." You patted his shoulder, but he only gripped your waist tighter.
After a moment, he lifted his head up to which you took the opportunity to give him a kiss. You could hear him gasped in shock but he eventually melted against your lips, moulding it against yours as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.
It was safe to say that you had ditched your date.
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©ruwriteshours
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tonicandjins · 9 months
Text
all of the girls you loved before
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CHARACTERS: lee donghyuck | haechan x fem reader
WORD COUNT: 3k
GENRE: best friends to lovers, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift
WARNINGS: none, just fluff
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this has been in my drafts for way too long. hope you like it! please consider donating/tipping me
all of the girls you loved before is the fourth installment from 23 moments with donghyuck
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lee naeun, June 2013 - July 2013
Lee Donghyuck’s first love turned out to be the quickest one.
It was a whirlwind romance, like how he would describe it whenever you’d ask him. At thirteen, you and Donghyuck were finally catching up to the rest of your homeroom’s growing pains—both literally and figuratively. Your legs were longer now, albeit Donghyuck’s becoming longer than almost everyone else’s, and you were prettier than most. Letting your bangs grow was a wise decision in the summer, after all. Long gone were your chubby cheeks and you’d learned how to put on some lip tint before jumping on the bus to school. The internet was a better teacher when it comes to styling your hair; you’d never expected hairstyles come with face shapes. Meanwhile, Donghyuck, though his cheeks are still as round as they were in primary school, has learned that the hugs and kisses he used to give everyone in homeroom erupted butterflies all over.
You’d wondered, of course, because among everyone in class, Donghyuck’s probably given you the most hugs and kisses, yet you haven’t quite figured out what they meant when they say he gives people butterflies.
In the same year, Donghyuck learned consent. His mother and father gave him a lecture on why kissing people randomly isn’t ideal at his age and why consent is important. Hence, he’d stopped giving everyone random kisses. The last one he’d kissed you on the cheek was a week before summer started—not that you were keeping a record of all the stolen kisses—right when you were about to jump off the bus you and him were on.
Lee Naeun gave the first consent at thirteen. On the last day of classes.
She was moving to the US the next school year. Donghyuck made you wait by the benches as she packed up her duffel back after soccer practice.
She was taller than everyone else. Sporty and ambitious, Lee Naeun was every boy’s kryptonite. Just like how Lee Donghyuck was every girl’s.
“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck asked. Naeun blushed like crazy. She was taller than Donghyuck, so when she’d nodded, Donghyuck had to go on his tip toes to reach her lips.
You looked away when Donghyuck got his first real kiss, wondering if the sudden pain in your stomach is the same as the butterflies that people get when Donghyuck kisses them.
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kim haerin, August 2016 - January 2018
Kim Haerin was Donghyuck’s girlfriend all throughout junior high school.
Contrary to popular belief, Haerin pursued Donghyuck from the first week of classes. You and Donghyuck had moved to a different school after middle school as the one in your hometown didn’t focus much on arts, leaning towards STEM more, which, if you and Donghyuck were being honest, is the last thing you’d want to do in high school. This also meant that you and Donghyuck were new in town—the new girl and the new guy—and that people your age were particularly curious about you and Donghyuck that school year.
Oddly enough, the first thing they needed to confirm was whether you and him were dating. As soon as it was a clear no, you and Donghyuck received flowers left and right. You wondered whether this is what high school should be like and expected Donghyuck to feel the same, but that school year was different. The people liked the extroverted, friends with everybody Donghyuck, so it was easier for him to adjust to the new place and the new people.
They’d started dating the week after school started. Haerin was a part of a big group, the ones who’d studied in the school’s sister middle school down the road, and she knew everyone. She was nice, or so you’ve heard because you didn’t have that many conversations with her to confirm if she truly is, and she’d say hi to you when you passed by her by the lockers.
Donghyuck tried to take you with him whenever they’d hang out, of course, but his attempts could only do much because you weren’t into the same things as they were. Eventually, you’d found your own group and adjusted to the new school all by yourself. It made you worry about Donghyuck less whenever you’d see him all happy and loud like the person he is. While Donghyuck’s name stuck with Haerin’s all throughout high school, yours remain independent. You’d decided you’d start dating when you’re ready.
The only times you’d see each other, apart from the classes you shared, were weekends with your families. You and him talk, of course. Donghyuck at home is different from Donghyuck at school. But it was different. The memories of you and him going to and from school gradually blurred between all the people you’d met in high school.
Kim Haerin broke up with Donghyuck as soon as you all came back from Christmas break on the last year of junior high. She’d started dating the new guy from the other class who transferred all the way from Germany. She’d given Donghyuck a kiss in the middle of the empty gymnasium and told him she’d loved him but the sparks were gone.
Donghyuck waited with you on the bus stop that same day. To this day, he waits with you.
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im jieun, November 2019 – December 2019
Im Jieun was one of a kind, and if you could pick, she was your favorite from Donghyuck’s long list of lovers.
She was a couple of years older than you and Donghyuck. How Donghyuck even got the slimmest chance of dating her, you have no idea. She was a freshman in college. You and Donghyuck met her at one of your seniors’ birthday party; they’d hit it off easily. They had the same personality, almost like twins, and were pretty much the perfect couple in your newly found friend group.
That year was the most life changing for him because Donghyuck lost his virginity with her, and for quite some time, similar to when he’d dated Kim Haerin, he disappeared from your life, and not that you’d cared at much at that time because you were also dating your first boyfriend, Na Jaemin.
Jaemin was everything a first boyfriend should be. Gentle and sweet, determined and future-driven, truly the kind you’d want your parents to meet. He’s been in the same class as you since junior high, but he wasn’t the kind to approach women that easily. He was brought up loyal and kind, and it showed with the way he treated you. He asked you out on a dinner for the first date, at an amusement park for the second, and a picnic by the park for the third—which was the same day he officially asked you as his girlfriend.
When Donghyuck had learned, he was as surprised as a best friend would be.
“You never told me you liked Jaemin,” he commented when you’d told him the news. He was sitting on the swivel gaming chair you and him bought as pairs right beside your bed, where you were still half asleep because he barged in at seven on a Sunday morning. Apparently, he learned it because he saw Jaemin’s Instagram story from your date with him last night.
“Because I didn’t,” you groggily replied. You squinted, trying to make up your mind whether Donghyuck’s a dream or not. “I mean, I like him now. But it didn’t occur to me until he started asking me out for dates.”
Donghyuck leaned his head against your chair, kicking his feet off the floor to spin himself around. “You never even told me you went out on dates.”
You giggled. “Are you sulking now, Donghyuck?”
He sighed. “I tell you all about the girls I date. Even the ones I dream on dating. And this one time you finally decided to start dating, I wasn’t there for you.”
You sat up, watching as your child-like best friend spins himself dizzy on your chair. “Check your phone. Every time Jaemin and I went out, I texted you.”
He sighed again, pressing his foot on your bedroom’s floor, stopping so he could look at you eye to eye. “You didn’t tell me it was a date. You said you were having dinner with him, going to the amusement with him, and hanging out with him at the park.”
“We’re 19,” you pointed out. “What would 19-year olds do alone together?”
Donghyuck tilted his head sideways. “You and I are always alone together.”
“It’s different.” You throw a pillow at Donghyuck, kicking off the blanket from your body and moving to give him some space to lay on. “Come here, you big baby.”
Donghyuck’s mouth formed into a pout but occupied the space on your bed anyway.
“I’m a big girl,” you reminded him as he rested his head on your chest. “I don’t need you to be there for me on my first relationship.”
“Ouch,” he mumbled.
“I will always need you in my life, Donghyuck,” you clarified, knowing well how Donghyuck hates being not needed. “Just, not for this one. I might actually, truly like Jaemin. He’s a good guy.”
Donghyuck hummed. “But I’m still your best friend, right?”
You laughed. Because it’s the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard. Donghyuck will always be your best friend. You were certain no relationship would break that. You and him were past being insecure about your friendship.
“Always.”
Donghyuck broke up with Jieun before Christmas break. The reason, you have no idea. But he’d told you it wasn’t as fun as it was in the beginning anymore. And Jieun was in university, after all, and you and him had SATs to pass and college essays to ace before the school year ends.
You and Jaemin took him out for clubbing that night, in hopes of cheering him up. It was a mystery to you why he’d suddenly decided to end it when the relationship seemed like it was smooth-sailing. They’d even talk about Donghyuck going to the same university as Jieun next year. You didn’t recall any fights within the relationship, so you wonder why.
Donghyuck leaves the club without you and Jaemin.
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lee naeun (again), February 2020 – April 2020
Donghyuck learned from Lee Jeno that his first love returned from the US to take her bachelor’s degree in Seoul on Valentine’s day. He found her wandering around SNU’s main lobby on the first day of the spring semester. You and Donghyuck were visiting the university after receiving your acceptance letters, looking for an apartment to share. Jaemin was going to another university, so it wasn’t wise for you and him to move in together, hence Donghyuck offered to move in with you to save up some money for rent and other expenses.
Lee Naeun stood there, still taller than Donghyuck, still the first person who ever kissed Donghyuck’s lips, still the first person you’d ever compared yourself to, wondering what she had that you didn’t.
Like the day they kissed in 2013, you looked away when Donghyuck finally reached to where she stood, wondering why, all of a sudden, many years later, the butterflies were flying all over in your stomach once again.
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ginny williams, September 2020 – October 2020
Of course, the first woman that Donghyuck officially dated in university is from the UK. Jeno said he only dated her to show everyone he’s immensely improved in English.
The break-up was proof Donghyuck never improved in English. He didn’t even understand why she was breaking up with him.
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park yesol, September 2021 – February 2022
You introduced Donghyuck to Park Yesol because it’s what she wanted for her birthday.
She had invited you to her 21st birthday. You and her, if you were being honest, barely know each other. You only shared a class in Literature once, so at first, it was a mystery to you why she suddenly invited you. When she’d asked if you could ask Donghyuck to RSVP with you, you’d known that it’s all she wanted from you.
Eventually, they’d start dating. Donghyuck, at that time, had been single for almost a year. He thought he convinced you that college was finally catching up on him hence he’d put a stop to his “demanding” dating life. However, Donghyuck is your best friend, and you could see right through him. You knew he liked someone he wasn’t willing to share with you, and he was probably working up the courage to ask that person out, which, when you thought about it, was new. Donghyuck was cunning and ambitious and he knew what he wanted and how to get it. He was never one to shy away from the people he liked, so it was a little suspicious that it took him almost a year to start dating again. You did not figure out who he liked, and you knew he’d only started dating Yesol to get you to shut up about it.
You and him knew it wasn’t a serious relationship because Yesol was dating other guys while she’d dated him. Donghyuck told you it felt like the relationship was just for sex because of his oozing sex appeal; you’d thrown a cushion at him when he’d said that.
Meanwhile, you and Jaemin were almost at pointbreak.
You didn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day being uncertain of the relationship would go, so you broke up with him on the first day of February. Jaemin had gotten an internship in Japan a few months ago, and the company that hired him liked him so much that they wanted to keep him while he finishes his degree virtually. You wished you could say the same, that you loved him so much you also wanted to keep him.
It was finally catching up to you and him, the distance. So, it was better you’d break it off before you and him start failing subjects just to keep a relationship steady.
Two and a half years together wasn’t enough. You and Jaemin wanted to spend the rest of your college years, at least, together. But like he said the night you’d ended it: it wasn’t worth it if it was compromising your mental health and studies. You’d cried so much that night, and you wondered if Donghyuck pretended he couldn’t hear you sobbing from the other side of the apartment.
Come Valentine’s Day, Donghyuck asked you to dress up, throwing a paper bag at you.
The place he “luckily scored” a reservation from, on a busy, fully-booked Valentine’s night, was nice. It was romantic and you were flushed and giddy from all the wine and all of the Donghyuck.
“Why are you here with me and not with Yesol?” you’d asked after the waiter filled your glass.
Donghyuck smiled at you. “I broke up with her two weeks ago.” Around the same time you did with Jaemin. “I figured if my best friend would be miserable on Valentine’s day, I should be, too.”
You laughed. “Well, you don’t look too miserable for a newly single man.”
“I’m not,” he confessed. “I’m never miserable when I have you.”
You reached out one hand, palm facing Donghyuck. He intertwined his hand with yours. And it fit perfectly. Just like the dress he got you.
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your name, June 2022 – present (or alternately, sometime in 2005 – forever.)
“Lee Naeun, Kim Haerin, Im Jieun, Lee Naeun again, then Park Yesol,” you enumerate. “You were a ladies’ man!”
Donghyuck whines, begging you to stop as you go through his things in his room, particularly the notes and letters from the girls he’d dated.
You and him are moving out. Graduation is just around the corner, and you and Donghyuck decided to move on to a better place. Your boyfriend got a job in one of the biggest companies in his industry, while you’re yet to find yours.
“Don’t forget Ginny Williams,” he teases, throwing you a love letter from the bunch.
“You did not date Ginny Williams, Donghyuck. It was an illusion,” you scoff. “Tell me one conversation you had with her. A real one.”
“I swear to God, she loved me,” he answers. “Stop playing around and help me in here.”
You stand from the carpeted floor and walk towards Donghyuck as he sorts out the things from his study desk. Donghyuck starts with the tower of books and folders, organizing them alphabetically as he carefully places them on the box labeled as books. The other box is labeled as essentials; hence you start throwing his headphones and speakers and its chargers in. While doing so, you get a hold of a small box that contains what you thought were miscellaneous items mixed in with trash, until you realize what’s inside.
There are a few polaroid pictures of you and him from high school, including a picture of you and him on your high school’s graduation day, some receipts from, now you recognize, the places you’d gone to. There’s a receipt from when you and him took the subway to visit a museum at the other side of the country back in 2018, another from Valentines day 2022, when you and him celebrated being newly single, the old ticket from your senior prom when he’d gone with you, and so many more that you could recognize just from its dates.
“Donghyuck,” you whisper as you look at the box of memories. Donghyuck turns, eyes wide when he recognizes the box you’re holding. “Where… where should I put these?”
Donghyuck loved many girls in his life. You can recall their names in the order of when he’d dated them. You had your favorites and the ones you didn’t like that much. Some of your friends wonder if you’ve ever been insecure knowing you weren’t the first kiss or the first person he had sex with and if you were okay with knowing all of that. You weren’t the first and you wish you’d be the last. The only thing you’re certain of, is that he had always loved you, and that alone erases all the other thoughts.
If you could say so, you’re thankful for all of the girls he loved before because they made him the one you’d fallen for. Every dead-end street led him straight to you.
He smiles. “Essentials.”
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neocentral · 8 months
Text
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: dacryphilia, masturbation (m), haechan x crybaby!reader
masterlist
crybaby, haechan thinks.
haechan imagines your eyes that leaked like a faucet, tears bouncing down the apples of your cheeks and down your neck, some traveling into your mouth. haechan saw you licking at them, collecting the salty liquid on your tongue. haechan wishes he had gotten a taste.
he shakes his head at the desire, opening his eyes to get himself out of his head. you're supposed to be annoying. you cry over everything. crystal beads trickling down from your overflowing waterline at the slightest inconvenience. and he was supposed to be sick of it.
"fucking crybaby," haechan growls, tugging furiously at his heavy cock in his hands. he licks the rim of his lips as if it would quench the craving of your salty tears.
admittedly, sometimes haechan did provoke you. poking at your fragile feelings in a way he knew would have your lips quivering, which truly wasn't very hard.
haechan hears your whimpers echo in his head, incoherent blubbering about how mean he can be as he releases a low moan, sliding his hands down his shaft. but it's not his fault everything he says or does makes your eyes well up with tears, puffing the surrounding areas and turning the whites of your glassy eyes pink. it's also not his fault that the thought makes blood rush to his own sensitive places until he can't help but play with himself in his bedroom, picturing your sweet face in his mind.
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hyuckmov · 10 months
Text
haechan - all my demons have your smile
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demon!haechan x angel!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff if you're into it wc: 9.6k <3 warnings: dubcon-y & morally gray (reader is a literal angel and doesn't know a lot about anything so it's hard to give informed consent, haechan manipulates her emotions and dreams bc he's a demon), heavy on the corruption kink, wet dreams, masturbating (m), thigh riding / grinding, blowjobs and oral, fingering, haechan thick cock agenda, power dynamics (supernatural edition), sweet aftercare, overstim other warnings: angel demon lore is a mix of representation in pop culture and media and is very NOT based on its religious connotations a/n: happy birthday to me...ngl i wrote 40% of this either tipsy or drunk. this is for all the people who requested being corrupted by haechan….please lmk what you think i hope you guys like this!!! thank u to @saintlyhyuck for giving me the idea for writing demon hyuck <3
haechan thinks your reaction when he calls you angel is like a shot of pure pleasure in his veins. 
"hey, angel." 
you spin around, mouth falling open, flush high on your cheeks. "how could you…?" 
in the dim light of the club, haechan can hardly believe his luck. he raises his eyebrows, leaning in closer to you, delighting in the way you tense. the glow of your skin growing stronger, the feathers of your wings – folded and poorly disguised as a halloween costume, beginning to rustle nervously. 
how could he? more like how couldn't he, what with the way you looked then. the glow of your skin growing stronger, the feathers of your wings – folded and poorly disguised as a halloween costume, beginning to rustle nervously. 
"what do you mean?" he smiles innocently, tilting his head to the side. he has to bite back a laugh at the sound of confusion you make, a small whimper in your throat. "angel is what i call all the pretty girls i see." 
at the stricken look on your face, he lets his mouth fall open deliberately slowly, widening his eyes mockingly. "unless…you're a real angel?" 
you look like a deer in headlights, trembling slightly, unsure of what to say. it was only your first night in the human world. you'd heard there were demons and devils roaming the streets, monsters and spirits hidden in shadowy corners who would hurt you for your wings, worse ones who would strip you of your skin. creatures who were dying to get ahold of an angel and figure out what made you glow, harvest parts of you which were so holy and undamaged. you weren't supposed to let anyone know who you were, least of all strange boys in dark and shadowy places. 
haechan can feel his body burning. it's as if he's hyper-attuned to each breath you take, every single particle of you seeping with untainted innocence, something breathtakingly pure about the way you shake in your flimsy white dress. anticipation claws against his insides – he wants you, wants to learn every part of you, drink in your sweetness and choke on it. 
he's never ruined an angel before. the thought of it sends a heavy pulse through him, right to his gut. 
"relax…" he soothes. he wants to touch your skin, but he knows you might just burst into pure flame out of sheer fright. he softens his gaze as much as possible, tries to dim the desire. a soft smile on his face, he places a hand on his chest, to where his heart should be — if he had one. 
"i'm an angel too." 
you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, relief flooding your system. "really?" 
he nods, lips morphing into a comforting smile. his hand reaches out to touch your upper arm, stroking your skin soothingly. he almost moans with how soft-to-touch it is, your angel's glow tickling his fingers with warmth, spreading through his body and churning inside him. 
"of course," he murmurs. "you're safe with me." 
"if you're an angel…" you lean closer to him, wary of others who may be listening to your conversation. you couldn't believe your luck, finding another angel the first night you got here. breath fanning lightly over his face, you whisper, "where are your wings?"
he can't help it – his breath hitches. he's able to count your every eyelash, feel your chest rise and fall, pretty pink mouth so close to his. there's no suspicion at all in the way your eyes sparkle with innocent curiosity, wide and trusting. 
he can't help it — he wants to see them fill with tears. 
"you want to see my wings?" he murmurs, leaning down. brushing a light hand on your shoulder, he skims the glow of your skin, reaching behind you and letting the tips of his fingers brush the feathers of your wings. 
you still. a strange feeling spreads through you, the room swimming slightly as it makes your head go light, settling deep inside your bones with a dark pulse. this is something you've never felt in heaven – and you're not sure if you want to scream, or run, or guide his hand further on your shoulder blades, letting them linger on places you're sure no angels would ever touch… 
"can you show me?" your voice, achy and soft, is the only sound he can hear. 
and he can't help but wonder, as he guides you towards the back door with a hand on the small of your back, your footsteps barely touching the ground, holy light misting around your body in dizzying waves, – what is an angel like you doing in a place like this?
x
you close your eyes, but open them to find yourself sitting up in an unfamiliar bedroom. 
not the one you had just gone to sleep in - this one had dark silk sheets instead of your white ones, a red glow cast over everything from the lights above. it made you dizzy, and your mouth felt dry as you turned and realised you weren't alone.
the angel you just met was sleeping peacefully next to you, his wings tucked out of sight, skin glowing slightly even under the red light. one of his large hands rests on your thigh, and you suck in a breath at the sight of his veins protruding from his arms and over the back of his hands, long fingers seeming to burn against your skin. 
something stirs in you, a heat you've never felt before that creeps all the way from your navel to the tips of your toes. you didn't know why, but you felt the urge to press your thighs together, letting out a small sigh at the tiny bit of relief it allowed you. you hardly know what you're doing, as if you're being controlled by some higher power or deeper desire, when you guide his hand between your legs with your own trembling ones. 
his fingers twitch, and you freeze. 
his eyes open slowly, nothing innocent about the way his eyes slide over your body and stop at where his hand is nestled between your legs. parting his lips, his eyes flick back to yours, a careful eyebrow raised. 
"angel…what are you doing?"
x
"that's called a dream, sweetheart." 
rubbing your eyes, you steady yourself on the kitchen counter. "so it's not real?" 
"it's not," haechan assures you, kindly. 
"is it…like…my imagination?" 
"some dreams can be pure imagination, but sometimes dreams are our mind's way of letting us know what we want," he explains, purposefully. you sit there, lost in thought, as he brings out dishes from the kitchen and encourages you to eat breakfast. 
while in the human realm, you were bound by the limitations of any human form – needing to sleep, being able to dream, having to eat and drink to sustain your energy. and although there were still aspects of your divinity which spilled over: such as your wings, and the heavenly fire which made you glow, haechan was much more interested in the other ways mortality would change you. 
your propensity to feel lust and desire, primarily. 
"so…" you chew on your lip. "the people in my dream…are they…actually….in there with me?"
haechan smiles to himself. "i don't know what you mean, angel," he fakes a look of genuine confusion when his eyes refocus on you. "who did you dream about last night?" 
"you," you answer, honestly. 
"really? what were we doing?" 
you drop your fork.
haechan laughs lightly when you fumble for it on the ground, smiling serenely back at you when you straighten up, looking at him through your lashes. 
"but, if you don't know…" you tilt your head to the side, slight hopefulness in your voice, "doesn't that mean you weren't actually in my dream last night?" 
"well…" cocking his head to the side to match your own movements, he relishes the way you tense up when he makes eye contact. "we'll only know for sure if you tell me what you were dreaming about." 
your hands fly to your mouth and you shake your head. haechan watches with fascination at the way you mist sparkling light, blush tinting your cheeks with embarrassment. "i don't want to say," you whisper. 
you don't have to say anything. haechan still remembers the way you had looked at him when he opened his eyes, the thrill of feeling you guide his hand to your core. 
dipping into your dreams had been easier than usual, your mind offering up no resistance at all and handing over all reins of control to him. 
"angel?" 
it takes him a second to realize you're referring to him. 
"yes?" 
"i realised i don't know your name." 
he only hesitates for a split second. "it's haechan," he decides. full-sun – a typical angel name. you test it on your tongue, carefully forming the sounds, and he savors it.
he can't wait for nighttime again. 
x
the second time you wake up in a dream, you almost feel at ease in the familiar red-light flooded bedroom, relaxing further when you realise it's empty this time. 
this is just my imagination, you remind yourself.
getting up from the bed, you tiptoe over to the window, looking out at the starry sky. it calms you even further, giving you the courage to turn around and explore your surroundings. aside from a bedside cabinet, and the ridiculously large bed, the room was quite empty.
wondering what lay beyond the bedroom, you make your way to the door of the bedroom, and your hand is just on the doorknob when-
"angel."
if this was just your imagination, then why did it seem so real? 
haechan lay on the bed you woke up in, one hand fisting the black silk sheets while the other traced down his body, writhing with what looked like pain. his eyes were closed, lips parted as he let out small sounds of some emotion you couldn't quite place. 
even as you try to take in what you're seeing, your mind races as you pick up a million other details. you've never seen him in clothes like this before — straps and buckles adorning his chest and pulling in his waist sharply so that you can catch every heaving breath he takes. and when his hand slides lower, ghosting under the waistline of his pants, the soft fabric shifts and you can faintly see the shape of something twitching between his legs. 
"haechan?" crossing over to the bed quickly, you place a hand on his shaking thigh, withdrawing it as if scalded when his back arches and he lets out a moan. "sorry-" you blurt out, "did i hurt you?"
"angel," he whimpers, eyes still closed as he rubs his palm over the front of his pants, his other trailing up under his shirt and teasing over his chest. "fuck-" you suck in a sharp breath at the profanity.
you know there's something wrong about the scene before you. there's nothing holy in the way he tilts his head back to let out a slew of sounds, the line between what was pain and what was pleasure blurring as his lips glisten with saliva, and when he slides that familiar veiny hand underneath his waistband, you could swear he purred. 
and surely, there was something desperately wrong with you too, because the ache between your thighs that you felt the last night was now burning something unbearable, and you felt the urge to reach out and touch him, hear what sounds he would make under your fingertips, beg him to open his eyes so you can see that hungry look again. 
his body stills.
his breathing slowly calms down, his hands slowly releasing himself from under his clothes, falling limply on the sheets. silence fills the room again and static buzzes so loud in your ears you feel like you're about to burst into flames. you don't know what you're doing, as you reach for one of his hands, guiding it towards your mouth as you dart out the tip of your tongue to taste the sticky white substance coating his fingertips. 
and then his eyes open, staring directly at you. 
x
"haechan?" 
"mmhm?" 
"did you dream, yesterday?" you ask him, hesitantly.
"yeah," he answers, easily. 
"what did you dream about?" 
"nothing much. i was in bed, –" a small gasp, and another sound as the mug in your hands slips and falls onto the table with a small thud. he grins, continuing to work on the wards guarding your front door, listening to you clean up behind him. "why? was i in your dream again?" 
a long pause. "kind of." 
when he turns, you're looking at him guiltily, hands clasped tightly in front of you as you twist your fingers this way and that. 
"angel…" he soothes, but the name only makes you shiver. crossing over to you, he pulls you into a comforting hug, your body relaxing under his touch as you lean your head against his chest. you can hear his words through his chest, a low hum filling your ears and making you feel so safe. 
"the dreams…" you admit, softly. "they're so scary…and confusing…i wish i didn't have to dream anymore, i don't think i like it at all…"
"do you want me to stay by your side when you fall asleep again? i can wake you when the dreams make you uncomfortable." 
you nod, eyes shining up at him with adoration and gratitude. 
he just can't wait for nighttime again. 
x
you can't fall asleep. 
haechan holds you against his chest, one of his thighs slotted carelessly between yours. he's resting peacefully, looking angelic under the moonlight, an arm slung protectively around your waist. but if it weren't for your white sheets and your familiar bedroom – adorned with flowers you had picked and shiny trinkets he collected for you, you would have mistaken it for another dream because of the desperate heat that throbbed inside you. 
you didn't know what to do to relieve the pain, body shifting clumsily as you tried to move your hips or rub your thighs against each other, the movement blocked by the way your legs were tangled together. frustrated, you give your hips a rough pulse against his thigh, and freeze when the sensation offers you more than a little relief, an insidious sweetness in your core. 
you move your hips again, grinding gently on his plush thighs, then a little harder as you realise it feels better the more friction there is as you rub against him. and now you're positively humping his leg, breaths coming quick and fast, whines seeping out from behind your closed lips as you try to make the pain go away, chasing pleasure as it comes. 
"angel?"
a rough hand grips your waist, and you gasp. 
haechan's wide eyes meet yours, darker than you've ever seen before, and for some reason when his hand squeezes your side you find yourself shifting even more uncontrollably against him, seeking the friction you craved. 
"i'm sorry!" your voice comes out as a whimper, as you try to back away from him. the room is burning hot, dizzying heat making you gulp. "i don't know what came over me, i just really-" your whole body flooded with shame and guilt, you pull his hand away from where it squeezes your waist.
"hey, hey, it's okay…" in the moonlight, you can see his face morph into an expression of understanding, a sense of authority in the way he helps you sit up and pulls you into his lap. he sweeps you into his arms, and you feel safer than ever before as you straddle him, your body melting with his as you nuzzle your face into his chest, still feeling the aftershocks of embarrassment when you realize he just caught you doing something so unspeakable to his unconscious body. 
you whimper out another apology, letting each stroke of your hair calm you down as he hums, low in his chest, the sound shooting straight to your core in a way that both thrills and frightens you.
"is this what the dreams were about?" 
"yes," you mumble, the sound of your heartbeat still rushing in your ears. timidly, you lift your head to meet his gaze. "i don't know why this is happening, i've never felt this way before…" 
"like this?" his hand slowly snakes down in between your legs, cupping your core with his large hand. the heel of his hand presses against some part of your core, and you keel over into him again, body shuddering as your hips buck into his hand instinctively, as if you were made to react that way. soft whimpers rise from the back of your throat as you nod in response to his question, body moving clumsily as you grind against his fingers. 
haechan swallows, hard. the image of his angel, dressed in that tissue-paper thin white nightgown, humping desperately against his hand like a bitch in heat, was more arousing than he could have ever anticipated. he wants to push you down to the bed and fuck you hard, splitting you apart on his cock and making you beg to cum, he wants to- 
"help me-," you pant in his ear, hips now moving in jagged circles, as if your body can't decide whether to lean into the pleasure or move away from it. "please, i don't know what's happening…"  
"angel, do you trust me?" he murmurs, quietly. 
the answering moan you let out punctures the air. "mmphh…
yes…" you gulp, hands now pawing at his chest as he ghosts his fingers over your clothed core. 
"then trust me when i say that all angels experience this," he advises, calmly. you're enraptured by his every word, and he leans even closer to you as he presses an insistent finger against your clit, smiling to himself as your body shudders.
hopefully, you gasp into his neck. "really?" 
dipping his fingers under your panties, he begins to rub slow circles on your clit, relishing the way you shake under his touch. "of course," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. 
pressure begins to build up in your core as you submit to the feeling. you close your eyes, feeling him rub and pinch at your clit in a way that makes your hips jerk and your thighs go weak. you push your hips into his lap, not even really sure about what you're doing, being met with something hard that makes you whimper as it ghosts over your clothed cunt. strangely, when your hips meet his, haechan also lets out a pained groan, the hand at your core speeding up, wet sounds filling the room as he dips lower and lower, fingers tracing around your slit as he throws his head back and lets out a moan. 
"am i hurting you?" you ask, panicked, hips stuttering to an unsteady halt as you place both palms flat on his chest, trying to push yourself away from what was threatening to unravel you. "haechan i'm so sorry, i must be really bad at this-" 
he interrupts you with a searing kiss, his mouth moving against yours, tongue stroking into your mouth and claiming all your sounds. pulling you back against his body, his hips drag sinfully upwards, grinding into you with just the smallest hint of desperation. 
feeling you fuck yourself against his clothed cock, mind clouded with desire and not a single idea of what you were doing – knowing he could corrupt you in so many different ways, had his head spinning with all the possibilities.  
"you're perfect, angel." pushing you so you lay flat against the bed, he clambers over your body, all the while sponging kisses on your neck with a sweet tenderness.
"but," you shake your head, trying to get rid of the haze in your mind. "you sound like you're in pain, and-" 
"you wanna make it better, angel?" 
nodding vigorously, you sit up and almost hit your forehead against his. "please!" you beg, hands fumbling beyond your control as you struggle with the the waistband of his pants, trying to tug them down so you can see what he was doing in your last dream, so you could help with where it hurts. "i want to help, i want to make you feel good…" 
his hands sweep your wrists into a tight grip, and your movements freeze. you look up at him, breath caught in your throat. 
"from now on, angel…" he traps your hands above your head, his other dragging your nightgown up your waist with a flat palm, still trying to feel as much soft skin under his hands as possible. "can you be quiet for me? can you do that, sweetheart?" 
you nod, bottom lip snug as you bite down on it. he knows you won't be able to hold it for long. 
"i'm going to make you feel so good, angel," he breathes, hand now tugging your panties down your legs at a sinful pace. he answers your silent question with a smile. "feel how wet you are? do you know what this means, baby?" he taunts, quietly. 
"all of this…" he slides two fingers against your slick core, smiling as your hips thrust up, your body responding to him and completely out of your control. "all of this shows me how much you like me, angel." 
one long finger slides into your core, and he lets out a filthy groan at the way your tight pussy sucks him in, tight and eager. 
"have you ever touched yourself here before?" 
you shake your head. "i didn't know i could," you mumbled, hips still stuttering, fucking yourself on his finger. "haechan…it feels so…" 
he starts to slide his finger out, thrusting it slowly against your walls, this thumb comes out to rub your clit, and your back arches, a gasp wrenched from your throat as you cum, uncontrollably, all over his hand.
pulling his hand out from your core and freeing your wrists, he silences every single one of your gasps with a kiss, tenderly nipping at your lips as his hands roam over your body. he just made his angel cum for the first time. 
"m-more," you pant, hands scratching down his back as you attempt to thrust up against his stomach. "haechan- i don't mean to be greedy, but i want… i want…" 
two fingers slide easily into your core, your moans morphing into a pleasurable sigh as your eyes roll back in your head, drunk on a feeling you've never felt before. a slow heat crawls around your body, wrapping itself around you and suffocating until all you can think about are his veiny hands, the hard length in his pants, and the way you still felt empty even as he pushed a third finger into you. 
"you see how your cunt just sucks my fingers in?" his voice is baby-talk pitched, and you fall even harder under his spell, nodding vigorously as your thighs clamp shut around his hand. "such an insatiable, needy slut… thought you were supposed to be an angel, hmm?" you claw at his body, hips moving in time with the way his fingers were moving in and out of you. 
haechan feels like he's in seventh heaven, the way you're losing your mind over just his hand, obsessive over a feeling you can't even articulate. he crooks his fingers against your walls, a triumphant glow thundering in his chest when he sees you fall apart even more. 
it's when you're on the brink of cumming for a second time, your body glowing like a bonfire, spilling light all over the room, when he suddenly withdraws his hand. leaning back against the headboard, he tugs his pants down and feels his thick cock slap up against his stomach, precum glistening from the angry red tip. 
he's not prepared for the sight of you, on all fours, crawling towards him, eyes wide and begging. as if in a trance, your hand reaches towards his cock, and your palm wraps around it curiously, giving it a hard stroke. his lets out another groan, one of his own hands wrapping around yours and encouraging you to squeeze even harder, focusing your attention on the tip and covering it with your fingers. 
"i know a way that can make both of us feel good." he makes sure there's nothing but sincerity in his eyes as he watches your head shoot up in excitement. 
"how?" 
pulling you into his lap again, and whispering his words sinfully against your lips, he coaxes you with a quick nip to your bottom lip, a swipe of his tongue against yours. "let me fuck your sweet cunt, hm?" he pants. fingers sliding expertly into your cunt, he wraps an arm around your waist as he makes scissoring motions in you, stretching you out. "bet you feel so empty…" he pouts, nodding sympathetically towards you. "i can fill you up so good, angel, you'll realize this is what you were made for…" 
your mind is slipping out of your grasp. you forget everything about being an angel, about how weird it felt to be touched like this, how you never once had another angel touch you between your legs, ideas of purity and innocence and sin blurring in a happy haze. 
"are you…" you gulp, eyeing the girth of his cock, the way it twitched under your palm as you squeezed. "are you sure it'll fit…in me?" you wonder aloud. 
"would you rather have me fuck your throat, angel?" 
"would that work?" and fuck, you're back on your knees, head dangerously close to his cock as your tongue darts out, licking up a shiny bead of precum from his slit. he's frozen in place as he watches you nuzzle your face against it, making a soft whiny sound at the back of your throat as you messily tongue at the base, his cock twitching against the soft skin of your cheek. "i don't…" you lap tentatively at his tip, using a hand to steady yourself on his thigh, the other gripping his cock and gently sucking the tip into your mouth, withdrawing when you feel the stretch against your lips. "i don't think it'll fit…" 
"come here," he croaks, arms coming up to steady you as you rush up to meet him, doe-eyes searching his for answers to this desperate desire he's instilled within you. 
"i need you," you whimper, frustratedly. "haechan please, i'll be good for you, just make this feeling go away…"
his cock teases over your entrance, and your moan rips through the half-finished sentence on your lips. 
"feels good?" he murmurs, kissing you deeply again as he thrusts up gently into you. "sit on it, don't be shy angel…" 
steadying yourself on his shoulders, you sink down on him, stopping every few seconds as you feel a slight stretch. the prep you've done with his fingers and all the teasing allowing your walls to give way to him, snugly sucking him in as you pulse around his member. every time you whimper, wings fluttering where they were folded against your back, he kisses you gently, hands stroking up and down your spine and distracting you from the sensation in your lower half.
"just a bit more, baby…" he bottoms out in you, a satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he squeezes you into his embrace, your arms wrapped around him, craving his skin against yours as you shudder. he's already ripping your nightgown from your body, the luscious feeling of bare skin making you purr in delight. 
your palms skid over his skin, settling on his shoulders as he gives a rough thrust upwards, and you feel his cock drag heavy against your walls. his hand moves purposefully over to your clit, mimicking a vibrating motion with his fingers so you only clench tighter around him. when you cum again – the inner sides of your thighs now so wet that the filthiest sounds fill the room every time your hips meet, he feels lke he could do this forever. 
slowing down his movements, he gently pushes your hair out of your face to give you a little break. "how do you feel, angel?" he asks, softly.
"g-good…" you hiccup, swivelling your hips this way and that, trying to find a rhythm now that he had stilled within you. 
he hums, still not moving, enjoying the way you squirm in his lap. "something wrong?" 
"it hurts…" you whine, now bouncing on his lap, nails digging into his shoulders. "it hurts when you don't move, haechan, please…" 
"do you believe me when i said you were made for me?" 
"yes," you rasp out, as he starts to fuck into you again, making you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he grinds up into you, blunt tip insistent against your sweet spot and making you feel that mind-numbing pleasure again. 
"is this all you're good for, angel? sitting in my lap, looking pretty…" he bites down on your neck, and you let out a soft cry. "being fucked open on me…" 
you nod, words leaving you as you melt under his strong grip. 
"making me so happy, angel," he murmurs, and you smile dopily up at him, panting. 
"you like making me happy?' 
you nod, swallowing hard as you work yourself into a frenzy, and he loves it, loves the way you rock your hips into his at an embarasing pace, sensitivity all at once too much for you and never enough. he watches as your eyes roll back into your head, wings bursting open with the sheer force of how hard you cum, walls squeezing him so tight that he can barely move as he lets go too. you gasp when you feel his warmth painting your walls, a new sensation on top of everything you've experienced that night making you let out a distressed whine. 
"be good for me, angel, hmm?" he coaxes, pulling you harder down onto his lap so you can't free yourself from his embrace. "let me fill you up."
dumbly, succumbing to the way he pulls you in for another kiss, you let your eyelids flutter shut, an overwhelming sense of fatigue flooding your entire system. until the room goes blurry at the edges, and the last thing you're aware of is haechan's hands sliding low on your navel, feeling where he was buried deep inside you, hands pressing against the way you bulge out — his pretty little angel stretched out and filled with him.
x
he's never fucked an angel before, so it almost comes as a shock when he catches a glimpse of you on his way out of your bathroom, immobile on your bed, skin drained of all its heavenly glow, a dullness so abrupt he freezes.
if he was to be honest, which he almost never had to be, his original plan had included leaving immediately after he got you in his bed. he had only been drawn to the idea of defiling an angel, filling you up with a need you never felt before, staining the glow of innocence that lit up your skin from beneath. 
he wanted the sight of you on your knees — of tears rolling down your cheeks. but he never prepared for this – 
haechan. 
your voice murmurs in his head, and he can hear how hoarse and fragile it is. he doesn't dare to move as he watches you, so motionless you're barely breathing, your body shielded by your wings and drawing his attention to how your feathers look like they would crumble into ashes. 
your voice creeps into his head again, and it's like some form of sick retribution – first he plays with your dreams, and now he doesn't know if it's really your voice in his mind or if it's some sort of guilt that seeped out of you and into him. 
haechan?
he moves without meaning to, the next thing he knows he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands sliding against the sheets towards you. 
"angel?" 
your eyes open to look at him, and through the haze of fatigue and your slow blinking, he can see that you're terrified. 
what's happening to me? 
he touches the tip of your wing. he pitches his voice low, and soothing.
"you're just adjusting from being in the human world," he murmurs. 
what if what we just did was wrong? tears well up in your eyes, and your lips part in a silent cry. haechan, i've never felt like this before…
he shushes you with a soft sound, leaning over to gather up your limbs and hold you against his chest, rocking you back and forth as he murmured praises into your hair. 
"how could it be wrong if it felt so good, angel?" wiping away your tears with a careful finger, he smiles encouragingly at you, pressing a light kiss to your cheek.
you nod, hanging onto his every word, letting it wash over you as your truth.
 "and also…" his voice dips. "didn't you see how happy you made me just now?" he murmurs, lips nipping at your ear. "don't you like making me happy?"
you nod again. 
hesitating, his hand cups your face, stroking over your jaw. he knows what would make you stronger again — something he read about angels surfacing in his mind before, recalling how your power was usually most concentrated in the column of your throat, and why it was extra sensitive. creatures would slit your throat for just a taste of your angel's grace, but if he were just to touch you at your sweet spot, feel your divinity underneath his fingertips and coax it to grow stronger with his own powers…
quietly, so as not to startle you, he slides his hand to your neck, tracing his fingertips over where your pulse point would be. your body begins to stir as he rubs circles closer to the back of your neck,  limbs twitching back to life and falling limp again. 
"how does it feel, angel?" he asks, softly. 
your lips part. "strange…" your voice is raw, a hollow and broken sound. "never felt this before…" 
he reaches the nape of your neck, and suddenly your hand flies up to grab his wrist in a strong hold – halting his movements and causing him to freeze as your nails dig into his skin, threatening to pierce through to his veins. "don't-!"
"i'm not going to hurt you," he murmurs, voice dripping patience and tenderness as he slowly pries each of your fingers off his wrist, interlocking his other hand with yours. "this is going to feel really good, okay?" 
your body continues to squirm against his, finger locking his in a death grip as he ghosts his hand over the nape of your neck, finally locating your most vulnerable spot judging by the way you let out a soft sound in his ear. he applies more pressure, massaging his fingers in soothingly and whispering praises to drown out your whimpering. 
and sure enough, your glow begins to come back – starting from where his hand held yours, a warm golden light which flowed through your veins and under your skin, your body heating up and enveloping him in that blissful glow again. you taste sweet when he presses a careful kiss to your collarbone, and if he listens closely he can almost hear your body hum with power, wings fluttering against your back as their ashy color seems to wash itself off, replaced with the pristine glow he'd taken a liking to. 
"haechan?" 
"yes, angel?" 
"when can we do that again?" you mumble, shyly. 
fuck that – he was beginning to grow obsessed with you. 
x
strolling with you outside, haechan lets the fresh air wash over him and calm him down. you look ethereal next to him, passerby's eyes glazing over when they catch sight of the way you seem to glide rather than walk, peering curiously at the different shop windows and dreamily staring at the stars above. possessively, he wraps an arm around your waist just so anyone who looks at you looks at him too, and realises you're his as much as he was yours. 
"this is so pretty," you whisper to him, tugging him to a display of diamond jewelry up ahead. he's learnt that you like shiny things and the smell of spring-time, that he could make your skin glitter by gently nipping at your bottom lip when he kissed you. looking at you and completely ignoring the jewels behind glass, he takes in the familiar look of love in your eyes and smiles. 
he could have robbed the store for you before you even had the time to blink. a snap of his fingers and the very necklace you were pointing at could have made its way onto your neck. or he could have had some fun with you and convinced you to steal it, coax you into doing one more terrible thing. 
but he pulls you into the store anyway – even as you latch onto his arm nervously, tugging at his sleeve telling him you don't need the pretty jewels. but still he patiently converses with the store attendant, encouraging you to pick out the pieces you liked the most, enjoying the genuine happiness in your eyes as he spoiled you with gifts. 
when the attendant is busying himself in the back room, you peek over at him with barely contained excitement, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 
"i'll make it up to you," you breathe, arms hooked around his neck. 
"how?" 
"i…" you look at him through your lashes, and he can feel your skin heat up. "i can do that thing you talked about last time…" 
"what thing?" he presses, pulling you closer so all of your attention is focused on him. 
you barely notice, caught up in your thoughts. "when i asked…and you told me…" 
"angel," he says, lowly. his voice is more raspy than he thought it would be, rough with need. "i won't know what you mean if you don't say it-" 
"you can fuck my throat," you say, softly. he searches your eyes and sees that you're embarrassed, yes, even a little guilty at the crude words which your lips just formed, but there's no trace of fear at all. you trust him wholly and completely, your breathing tinged with desperation as it picks up, as you brush up closer to him. when he doesn't respond, you hesitate a little, trying to decipher his expression. "if…if you still want to." 
"want to?" he murmurs. 
"i might not be very good at it, but you can teach me-" 
groaning, he swallows the rest of your sentence with a hungry kiss, the kind that lifts you off your feet and makes you feel like you're flying and falling all at once. 
x
he takes you home in an instant, dropping the bags of necklaces and diamonds as he pushes you roughly against the bedroom door. you slide to your knees in between his spread legs, his pretty angel, eyeing him with a maddeningly innocent look of wonder on your face. 
"how…how are you going to…" 
"do you want me to teach you?" 
you nod excitedly, hands now stroking his thighs absentmindedly, and he has to stifle a groan. 
"what if…" he clears his throat. "what if i changed my mind? what if i don't want to teach you anymore?" 
"please-" your eyes widen with fear. "i'll be good for you..." he still looks unconvinced, so more words fall at random from your lips. "and if i'm not good enough, you can punish me-" 
pulling you up, he kisses you harshly. it was almost as if you were rotten through and through, and it was all because of him. 
"i don't think there will be a need for punishments, angel," he assures you, gently pushing you back down on your knees as he shoves his pants down, tongue poking into his cheek and stretching his puffy lips apart as he watches the way you eye his cock almost hungrily. 
you start out by taking just the tip into your mouth, suckling on it lightly and letting go with a gasp when you feel like you can't breathe. he trains you through it, coaxing you to take more and more, holding your head down when you feel like giving up and stroking your face encouragingly every time you smile back at him, lips messy with drool and precum, eager for his approval. 
he finally gets you to sink down on him — feel your hot wet tongue licking over his veins, shoving your way through and choking yourself on his length, nose hitting his navel as your nails dig into his thighs with pain, trying desperately hard to breathe through your nose like he taught you as he fucks his hips up experimentally. 
it's like one of his filthiest fantasies, the way he pulls out to cum all over your face — your mouth lewdly open and trying to lick up as much of him as you could, unaware of how it made you look. 
"i'm sorry, angel," and he swears he almost feels it, as he pushes his fingers deep into you, rewarding you for your good behavior. "next time, i won't make it so messy." 
but you shake your head vigorously, back arching into his chest as your thighs clamp around his hand. "'m always making a mess of you too," you mumble, blush spreading to the tips of your ears as you smile up at him. "i don't mind you making a mess of me." 
drawing away from your body, he keeps his eyes on you the whole time he crawls down to situate himself between your legs. he keeps his eyes on you so he can catch the first look of surprise, confusion, and pure desire that spreads across your face when he sucks your clit into his mouth. 
"sometimes, i wish you could hear the things you say to me the way that i hear them." he laps at your entrance, and you swear you see stars. "you're so filthy, angel."  
and in the darkness of the room, you glow even brighter with pride. 
x
haechan feels a little stupid right now, sitting in his booth, letting some human girl put her hands all over him and hoping you're watching. 
"i'll only be a minute," he had murmured into your ear. "have something to take care of."
and for the past 5 minutes he's played his part well – fingers tilting her chin up so he can whisper words into her ear and brush his lips against her neck. playing with strands of her hair, eyes half-lidded and body slumped against hers, legs carelessly spread. he knows it's making her dizzy simply being around him, his body radiating lust.
it's when she slides into his lap that he finally feels your eyes on him, picking up on the way your breath hitches in a small gasp from all the way across the room. he doesn't bother to hide his smile as he rubs his thumbs on the girl's bare waist in slow, tantalizing circles. begging for you to take the bait. 
all the way across the room, your body tenses, hands trembling slightly as your vision zeroes in on haechan and the girl draped over him. you watch as she guides his eager hands up her thighs, the glint of his smile almost blinding in the dark. something roars inside your chest, clawing at your lungs, an acidic something you've never felt before threatening to melt you from the inside out as you watch her lean in towards him, lips dragging across his jaw where you had kissed him last. 
haechan closes his eyes when he feels her lean in, lips falling open as he mimics the look of someone lost in pleasure, hoping to rile you up even more. her lips barely brush his skin before he feels something searing hot take its place, pure pain rippling up from his palms where he was touching her skin. his eyes shoot open as he sits up with a jolt, but he doesn't have to look long to understand what happened.
the lifeless body of the human girl slumps to the dirty floor of the club. towering above her, wings fully extended, skin glowing so bright he could hardly make out your features, you look down at him with gold flashing in your eyes. 
"when you said you had something to take care of, did you mean her?" 
exhilaration races through him, your jealousy and your anger feeding each pump of blood in his veins. 
"angel-"
he starts to speak, but you cut him off with a tight hand on his wrist. 
"no." 
light briefly darts across his vision, the scene melting like wax as your bedroom materialises soundlessly around the both of you. 
he didn't even know you could do that. 
when you let go of his wrist, your wings are folded again, your skin returned to its normal pale glow. but there's nothing normal about the way you sink onto him on the bed, his body pliant under your touch in a way he isn't even able to control, all semblance of the power he just gained draining from him as you put your hands on his chest. 
"did i do something wrong?" you murmur, your voice lower than he had ever heard it. "is that why you went looking for her?"
his lips part, mouthing soundlessly as your weight shifts on him. he had forgotten how to speak, the way you were looking at him stealing his breath from his lungs and turning his mind to mush.
"why did you let her touch you?" you demanded, a slight growl to your voice he never heard before. "hm?"
"i'm s-sorry," he whispered. 
"do you want her?" your eyes flash dangerously, your skin burning hot to touch now, wings rustling along your shoulder blades. your hair moving unnaturally despite there being no wind in the room, reaching out and curling in lazy tendrils at the base of his neck. "are you thinking of her right now?" 
dazed and drunk on your voice, he shakes his head, eyes never moving from yours. drool glistens on his lips, his body numb under your spell. 
"want me, haechan," you breathe, pressing yourself into him needily, dipping your head so you can feel his labored breathing on your lips, lips brushing his as you beg – when really you have him under your complete control. "tell me you want me, just me." you push your hips against him, and he can feel himself throb with need. 
"i want you," he whimpers. "fuck, angel, i want you so bad, please-"
"show me," you murmur, your nails scratching down his chest and making him moan out breathily as you lift your weight from his. moving so you lie back against the headboard, you watch as he takes a second to catch his breath before scrambling up, eyes wild and movements jerky. 
positioning himself in between your legs, his hands drag your skirt up your thighs haphazardly, breath hitching when he sees you're already bare for him. 
"angel," he says without thinking, "fuck, angel, you're perfect." he dips his tongue into your cunt, moaning loudly and lewdly as your sweet arousal floods his tastebuds. sloppily moving his mouth over your folds, his tongue circles your clit expertly before dipping down to collect your juices. he moves his head this way and that, mindlessly holding you in place with strong arms as he licks his tongue as deep into you as it will go. your thighs clamp tight around his head, and he lets out a muffled sob of approval, his stiffened tongue pushing past your tight entrance and nose bumping your clit with his movements. 
you can feel your climax approaching, your body trained by him to respond to his touches. thrusting your hips into his face, he frees a hand to slip a finger into your tight hole, mumbling with pleasure when he feels you suck him in. 
"want my angel to cum," he begs, desperation dripping from his tone. the pads of his fingers brush your sweet spot, the warmth of your skin spiking again as the feeling makes you glow with pleasure, trapping him in a heat haze between your thighs. "my pretty angel," he hums approvingly, slipping in another finger. your hips twist this way and that but he pins you down firmly with his arm, stretching you out with his fingers as his lips move back to your clit. his mind is flooded with the thought of you and your pleasure, your small whimpers and each tremble of your body making his body buzz with satisfaction. his mind wiped clean of everything but your smell and taste. he spells out your name with his tongue, silken movements on your clit paired with rough drags of his fingertips against your walls finally making you release all over his face. 
he moans as he laps it up, sticking his fingers in his mouth to savor it. dizzy, he blinks up at you, feeling lightheaded as reality rushes towards him in a tidal wave. 
what the fuck did you just do to him? 
"angel." he starts, shaking his head to clear it again, loosening himself from your grip. "what did you…"
"did I hurt you?" you cup his face in your hands in one swift movement, tilting his head up so his eyes remain fixed on yours. "haechan? is everything okay?"
it's the way you say his name that pulls him right under again. gold specks dance in your eyes as your voice lowers, and it's like you slow time, and he can see your every word hang in the air, feel your angel's glow seep from the pads of your fingers into his bones and liquify every particle of him. 
"i-i…" he stammers. "angel…" 
"why did you stop?" his pretty pink mouth falls open when you place a thumb on his lower lip, his eyes glazing over as you let out a needy whine. "haechan…"
wordlessly, because he's forgotten all forms of language, he pulls you into his lap, letting you straddle him as he blinks up at you adoringly. kissing your collarbones, he removes your dress with shaky movements, reduced to nothing more than a human, forgetting to use his powers entirely as he shoves his own clothes away. 
his lips never leave your skin, sucking messy bruises and nuzzling his nose against your warmth. you're misting light in a hypnotic glow, and he's sure it's the reason why he's so hard it hurts, shaky hands now ghosting over your hips as he tries to stop himself from cumming untouched. 
"will you be good for me?"
amidst the fog in his brain, arousal shoots through him when he hears the words rise from your throat, and he bucks his hips up instinctively. his cock slides against your folds, and he lets out a choked sob, gripping onto your hips even tighter as he throws his head back. 
"i'm yours", he whimpers, hips shallowly thrusting up into you. a high pitched moan rips from his throat as he feels you sink down on him, gummy walls clenching onto him like never before. 
"are you mine?" you murmur, neediness still dripping from every syllable even as you have him reacting to your slightest touches like a livewire. you circle your hips, causing his to stutter. 
his arms wrap around your body, worshiping you with his touch. "i'm yours," he trembles, hips thrusting up to pound further into your heat. you clench hard around him, and he loses all control, cumming into you with an embarrassed whimper, his head falling against your chest. he slows to a stop as he feels himself coat your walls, sensitivity making him hiss.
"more," you urge, and his body reacts to the command before he realises what he's doing, thrusting up into you again as his voice cracks and jumps like a broken record. through tears in his eyes, he admires the way you look as you bounce on him, chest heaving and skin flushed, the soft sounds you make. he speeds up even as it hurts, a hand snaking in between your bodies to press at your clit, rubbing it in quick motions. 
"angel," he whimpers, like a prayer, breathing rough and shallow. "angel." you trace a hand on his cheek, and he nuzzles his face into it, bucking up into you with more fervor. he'd do anything to make you feel good, in that moment, no matter what it took. 
he cums when you do, feeling slick ooze out from where he was stuffed into you. he doesn't stop rubbing your clit, forcing your walls to clench in spasms around him. whimpering against your lips, you let him drive you into overstimulation as he fucks his spent cock into you again, dribbling out the last bit of cum he had left. 
when he pulls out of you, letting out a last gasp of pain, your eyelids are already starting to droop. the room is cold and silent without your glow, and he watches dazedly as you drain of all light again, a dullness spreading from in between your wings, faster than the last time. his whole body feels sore and spent, his arms barely able to hold you up as you slump against him. you look fucked out, and ashen, and — 
he pulls you in for a soft kiss. moving his mouth gently over yours, feeling stronger when you sigh into his mouth. his fingers caress the inner edge of your wings gently, moving to stroke comforting circles down your spine, his hand eventually trailing its way to the nape of your neck. 
"haechan…" 
"is this okay?" he murmurs, applying gentle pressure with his fingertips. your noses brush as you blink sleepily up at him, and he watches a little bit of glow flicker to life in your eyes, feeling your skin warm under his touch. you squirm a little in his arms, head nuzzling into his neck and throat letting out a soft whimper. 
"why…" you bite your lip as he applies a bit more pressure, "why is it always you taking care of me?"
the answer comes to him easier than breathing. "because you're my angel." 
"but i-" 
he gently maneuvers you around in his lap, strong arms lifting you so your back faces him instead. brushing your hair aside and gathering it up in one hand with a tenderness you can't even begin to place, his plush lips begin to graze your neck, reverently sponging kisses on the sweet spot he's had burned into his memory. you tilt forward, tingles running down your spine, but his arms encircle you and pull you back until you're almost flush against his chest.
this time, when he presses a soft kiss to your skin, warmth rushes through you like a shot of pure light through storm clouds, your whole body alight. 
"i want to take care of you too," you say, quietly. and then, bolder, "i don't know if i'm just weak because i haven't been here very long, but this never seems to affect you like it affects me…"
"you're not weak, baby," another kiss, a gentle brush of his forefinger. "you're just an angel." 
"but you're an angel too," you insist. 
haechan's chest aches. 
you continue, "and you never seem to grow weak whenever we…whenever we…" 
"that's because you're always so good for me." now burying his face in your neck, he pulls you closer in his arms, closing his eyes so he can breathe you in. "you're too good for me, angel." 
you relax in his hold, and when he next opens his eyes, you're glowing as bright as all the stars in heaven put together. 
x
haechan thinks of the way you reacted when he first called you angel, weeks ago, in this very club. 
now, the air is sticky, and it clings to his skin too uncomfortably. bodies press up against him, eyes seeking his, but he doesn't meet any of them – his mind in a completely different place. 
your skin glows gently even in the dark bedroom. 
you lie on your chest, wings folded against the sheets, your face turned towards the side so that he can see just a hint of your features in the shadows. even as he backs towards the door, he feels the inexplicable urge to wake you from your sleep, if anything to see your eyes open again, drink in the doe-eyed sweetness. the entire time he sweeps through your apartment – carelessly erasing the traces of his presence, picking up his jacket, pocketing shiny trinkets he bought you, — he wishes you would wake up and cling close to him the way you always used to in the mornings. longing to feel the light on his skin again, your touch hesitant and needy all at once. 
lust, envy, wrath, pride – all of these meant nothing to him, but watching the way they drained you, and realizing that by corrupting you he was killing you softly every night…it clawed at him like nothing ever had before. 
looking up from his drink, he's startled to come face to face with a girl he's never seen before. her smile doesn't reach her eyes as she reaches out to touch his hand, fingers drawing practiced circles on his wrist. 
he didn't tamper with your dreams the night he left, but still he wondered if you were dreaming of him.
he takes a deep breath. 
"hey, angel."
taglist: @jenomov, @91qowngus, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @matchahyuck, @prdshobi, @smwhrinthehaze, @yesohhsehun, @chimiwimi, @haechaniesunshine, @hyukiebb (can't tag- sorry!)
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xrenjunniesx · 4 months
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when you accidentally ignore them
bf!nct dream
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mark
you were talking to your friend on face time while doing your make up when mark walked in. you smiled at him through the mirror before going back to talking to your friend. you were giggling too much to hear mark say something. your friend noticed him though. she laughed at him, catching your attention.
mark was just awkwardly laughing, saying your name in between his breaths. “sorry, did you say something?” he approaches you this time and stands right behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I just asked what you guys were talking about.” “oh! oh my god wait tell him the story!” you say to your friend on facetime.

renjun
you and renjun went on a walk for a much needed mental break. you put your headphones in, wanting to drown out the world for a little bit. you thought he saw you do this, but perhaps he didn’t. he stopped walking about half way through your walk. you stop as well, turning your music off as you look back at him.
“why’d you ignore me?” “I can’t even hear you.” you say pulling one of your airpods out of your ear. he awkwardly smiles and begins walking again. “leave one ear out for me?” you giggle and agree, putting the extra airpod into the case.
jeno
you were so immersed in watching the newest episode of a show that regularly played on the television. it wasn’t even a show you enjoyed, but you were absolutely immersed in it. so immersed that you didn’t notice jeno getting home until he was stood right beside you. you almost screamed when you noticed his presence.
he smiled and dropped his things onto the couch beside you. “you didn’t hear me?” you shook your head and reached for the television remote, turning it down so you could actually hear things around you, instead of just the television. “what if someone broke in? you wouldn’t even have noticed.” he joked.
haechan
you were playing with a strangers dog that you walked past on a nightly walk by the beach. you had heard haechan and the owner talking a little bit, so when haechan spoke up again you automatically assumed he was talking to the owner again. It wasn’t until the owner didn’t reply and you felt an awfully heavy stare on your back that you looked up to haechan.
he was just staring at you, before repeating it again, “let’s go now?” as you both walk away you tell him that you didn’t hear what he said the first time. he scoffs and looks at you with a pout, “am I that easy for you to ignore?”
jaemin
you were watching a movie when you heard jaemin say something. all day, he had been talking to his three kittens, so you assumed he was just talking to them again since he wasn’t even in the same room as you. it wasn’t until he walked into the room and sat next you, looking at you with awaiting eyes. “what is it?” you ask, before realising maybe he was talking to you earlier.
“Oh I’m sorry, we’re you talking to me before? I thought you were talking to the cats.” he laughs and shakes his head, “ah yes, because the cats have a choice of where we are going tonight?”
chenle
you’re on you phone, watching some stupid reels that make you giggle to yourself. chenle calls out to you from the kitchen, “do you want me to cook dinner now?” when you don’t reply, he sighs and closes the fridge, walking down to the bedroom where the door was wide open. you didn’t even notice him there until he coughed.
“oh sorry chenle, what’s wrong?” “babe… you’re going deaf I fear.” “huh?” he just leaves the room saying he is going to start dinner now, hoping you at least heard him that time.
jisung
you were sitting on the couch, playing a game musical rhythm game when he sat down next to you. you heard him saying something, but because you had your headphones in your ears and you weren’t sure if he was even talking to you, you stayed quiet and ignored it. when the song finished, you finally heard what he was saying. “what do you think?” you looked at him only to find that he was looking at you.
“oh… ji… I didn’t hear anything you said.” you said taking the headphones out of your ears. he just blinks at you and closes his eyes, leaning his head back, muttering something about having to repeat everything, but he does it anyway.
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ooshu · 11 months
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sequel pt. 2
-
“why were you ignoring my calls?”
after two weeks of purposely dodging haechan’s presence, he had finally cornered you by ringing your doorbell on a friday night; a night when he knows you would be wide awake until god knows when.
haechan peeks at the television at your back, “and watching a film without me, too?”
good for you, though. you are good at making excuses.
realizing you were in love with your best friend haechan made it seem difficult to get by. ever since mark pointed out you would literally do anything for him in a heartbeat, you became extremely conscious. sure, there was a distinct line between liking and loving. you were aware you liked him, but loving sure is a big word.
and everyone saw it except you.
and the worst thing that could probably happen is haechan seeing it, too.
usually, haechan would walk directly toward your living room, but you’re still holding the door. haechan attempts to put one foot forward, but you are doing all your might to block his way.
“i was busy.”
“bullshit.”
“i can’t be busy now?”
“it’s 11 pm.”
“i can’t go beyond that?”
“you never work at this hour.”
“i have a lot of…”, you turned your head at the back, attempting to look at your surrounding to salvage your excuses but miserably failed. fuck, a deer caught in the headlights. "stuff.”
“holy shit.”, haechan exclaimed. “you’re really bad at this.”
“jesus, fuck! what do you want?”
“i wanna be with you.”
maybe if you were really not into your best friend who has a way with his words, you would completely laugh it off. but no, you were dumbfounded, hopeful, and taken aback.
“what?”
“said i wanna be with you.”
you just stared at haechan. could he possibly be…?
“who’s gonna take care of you, huh? who’s gonna be there when you trip on the sidewalk when you’re shitfaced? who’s gonna buy you dinner when you refuse to move until you finish your work?”
you tilted your head and leaned against the doorframe. your faces are just inches away from each other. haechan cupped your cheeks until he reached down your chin. “who’s gonna wipe your tears away when you’re sad, hmm?”
your lips ajar, trying to comprehend what he had just said. haechan lee just might have listed down the things he would willingly want to continue doing with and for you. and your heart might just have liked every bit of the sound he uttered.
“so… are you gonna let me in or what?”, haechan stared intently at your eyes. you just wanted this moment to last longer. this close, this proximity, you hope it gets a little closer. your gaze grazes on his plump lips, and it takes a lot of your courage right now to not kiss him.
“oh, yeah.”, you opened the door wider and haechan took a few steps forward, almost reaching the center of your living room.
but his steps faltered when his phone rang.
haechan stood just there and answered.
“yeah, yeah, yeah. just stay there. i’m coming.” — these were the words you heard, and in a heartbeat, he was on his way to finding the exit.
“but you just dropped by, haech…?”
“sorry. she needs me.”
“she?”
“oh, yeah. i’ll introduce you to her.”, haechan did not even spare looking at you. he was just texting on his phone, a bit in a hurry. “she’s a keeper. you’re gonna love her.”
you felt your heart sink but your feet did you no justice; you followed him like a little kid full of wonder and questions. and when your stop reaches back to your door, he slowly turned around and said:
“please don’t… don’t leave me ever again.”, haechan bit his lip. you can see how his eyes glisten, almost teary-eyed. “you’re my everything and more.”
there you saw haechan go. slipping through your fingers, just when you thought you had wrapped him around your finger just like what you are for him.
and you might just have another excuse to continue distancing yourself from the things he made you feel special and needed, and everything and more. no more trouble because the answer was plain and simple all along:
it’s because i love you, haechan lee.
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chaerryeoniis · 1 year
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double take | l.dh
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genre ➳ friends to lovers, highschool au, slowburn, fluff, angst  pairings ➳  best friend!haechan x fem!reader   word count ➳ 6.3k warnings ➳ mentions of alcohol info ➳ i just really needed to write this out...it’s likely a little messy and also not proofread but i hope everyone here likes the concept of pining bestfriend donghyuck as much as i do 
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Haechan distinctly remembers the first time he found you beautiful.
It wasn’t that you hadn’t been pretty before - sufficient compliments from other boys in your level and the occasionally affectionate parents meant you were well aware of your looks, and the effect it tended to have on others.
But for Haechan, the person that he knew at the age of eight with bright blue braces and Sailor Moon t-shirts was inextricable from the person you were now, someone who understood which angles flattered her and where one could get good haircuts in town.
Until the second week of summer break in junior year, when his world spun on its axis.
The both of you had just left the bus stop when it started pouring, and Haechan hadn’t brought his umbrella because the weather forecast had told him it would be sunny out.
“Fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Haechan mutters, already grimacing at the squeak of his new sneakers against the wet pavement. You only grin slightly, grabbing your jacket and throwing it over the plastic bag covering your lunch. “It’s only a drizzle. Don’t be a wimp.”
“You called me at two in the morning because you watched a horror movie and got too scared to sleep, and you’re calling me a wimp?” Haechan asks incredulously, and you huff slightly, brushing the damp strands away from your face.
“That was a one-time off thing- oh, shit.” Your words cut off when you feel large, heavy drops of rain pelt onto your face, the drizzle quickly becoming a full-blown downpour. “Let’s run,” Haechan suggests, not giving you time to oppose before he slides his hand into yours and drags you with him down the path.
It usually takes ten minutes to get to your house. Most of the time, it’s fifteen, because Haechan gets distracted easily and always finds some way to derail the both of you. That day, the both of you make it to the doorstep in five, mainly because he knows how grouchy you get when you fall sick.
He doesn’t say anything as you key in the pincode and push the door open, and Haechan relishes the warmth that welcomes him once you switch the heater on. Despite that, his soaked-through shirt clings to his back, damp and uncomfortable.
He’s arranging the groceries when the sound of your footsteps coming down the hallway alerts him to your presence.
“Take this towel and dry off. There’s clothes if you want to change into them,” you tell him, and Haechan doesn’t look up at first, only grabbing the cotton towel from your hand with a soft ‘thank you’.
Only when he folds up the empty plastic bags does he allow himself to lift his head up, and- oh.
You’re standing on the other side of the kitchen island, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you attempt to dry your hair with your towel, your cheeks still slightly flushed from the run through the rain.
Instead of the uniform, you’ve changed into an oversized t-shirt that he knows has been in the wash too many times, and your favourite pair of shorts that you practically live in at home.
It’s a sight he’s seen a thousand times. But Haechan’s throat is dry as he looks at you, unable to tear his eyes away.
A bizarre feeling floods his chest, creeping up to his head and filling him with an unfamiliar sort of adrenaline. There’s something about the action that makes you look so effortlessly beautiful to him, even with your hair messy and your face completely void of makeup as you stand barefoot in the living room.
He wonders if he’s dreaming, or if the chill from the rain has gotten to him. When it comes to compliments, Haechan is one of the most generous people around - letting honeyed words fall from his lips is as easy as breathing, enough to make you blush on rare occasions. He does it for a simple reason - he loves you, and he wants you to feel good about yourself, especially when you put in the effort to dress up, or try something new.
As much as he may tease you for that time you drooled on his shoulder while asleep, or had the milk foam stuck unknowingly on your top lip, he can also confidently say that you’re one of the prettiest people in the level, if not the prettiest, should anyone have asked.
But this. This is different. There’s always been a strange fluttering in his chest each time Haechan sees you. but this knocks it completely out of the water. He’s rooted to the spot as he stares at you, almost breathless.
You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful. It’s as if his vocabulary has suddenly expanded, full of words that just come to mind at the thought of you. And yet, this is the one time that he isn’t able to tell you how beautiful you look, because his words are annoyingly stuck in his throat.
Eventually, you notice the way Haechan hasn’t moved from his position, and you smile slightly at him, a soft curve of your lips. “Hyuck? You should go change, before you catch a cold.”
He thinks he might be dying, if the pace of his heartbeat is anything to go by. Your voice is so gentle, so warm, that he wants to sink into the sound of it and never leave.
Until you take a few steps towards him, your proximity enough for Haechan to jolt in alarm and regain his senses.
“Right. Change. I should go,” he sputters out, warmth surrounding the back of his neck. “Absolutely freezing in here.”
He’s actually perfectly warm, but he added the last sentence in for good measure. Haechan ignores your bewildered eyes as he shuffles down the hallway, carding his fingers through his hair harshly.
But he’s quickly realizing that getting away from you doesn’t help much, not when pretty much everything in your house holds some semblance of you. Down the corner is your bedroom, the one that he knows you’ve had since childhood. On the windowsill sits the paper stars he folded as a gift for you five years ago, because someone told him that a hundred of them would allow him to grant a wish.
And even the bathroom holds hints of you, from the regular brand of strawberry toothpaste you like to the skincare products carefully arranged on the counter. He’s immediately hit with the scent of your perfume once he steps in, warm notes of vanilla that are already so synonymous with you that they provoke a jolt of affection.
It makes him feel close to you, which is ridiculous in itself - there aren’t many people closer to you than Haechan is. And neither does he have many friends that take up as much space as you do in his heart. In fact, the counter is likely zero, but he refuses to admit that.
Haechan drags out his time to change, only pushing the door open when his heartbeat resumes its normal pace, and his cheeks aren’t completely red. You’re nestled comfortably on the couch, a slice of pizza already in your hand as you scroll absentmindedly in your phone.
When you see him, you only smile sheepishly.
“Sorry. Got too hungry,” you mumble apologetically. “But I saved this slice for you! You know, since you like pepperoni.” Your cheeks are puffed up as you make an attempt to explain your actions, already sliding over a plate to him before he can ask for it.
But Haechan can barely focus on the pizza, and he feels like he’s returned to square one. If someone reflected their emotions exactly, he’s sure that he would have long melted into a puddle of nervousness.
Instead, Haechan sits stiff as a board on the couch, taking small bites of the pizza as his eyes stare blankly at the television. Anything besides looking at you, because he knows that will only cause his brain to short-circuit.
He’s not sure what kind of affliction this is, but he hopes it ends quickly, if only for his own good.
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It takes a good year or so before Haechan realises that whatever spell you’ve put him under resolutely refuses to go away. The way his cheeks flush, pulse speeding up, as if he’s down with a fever, becomes painfully obvious whenever you’re around.
However, there’s also something about it that’s vaguely dreamlike, as if he’s floating in a cloud of blissful denial. Haechan laughs louder, smiles wider, and the colours seem to become more vibrant in his eyes whenever he’s around you.
It’s a crush, a rapidly growing one, but he doesn’t realise that just yet.
He’s also quickly growing more partial to love songs, no longer mocking them for the sappy undertones. Instead, the lyrics fill his heart with a strange sort of longing, one that only grows the more time he spends with you, whether when walking home from school or when sharing food over lunch break.
This feeling, however, just might be the worst that you’ve evoked in him.
You’re smiling as always, the same dazzling sight which makes Haechan’s throat dry up, but this time is different.
This time, he feels the burn of jealousy tear painfully at him, worse than the alcohol which he poured down his throat an hour ago. Likely not the best idea to have trusted a university student with his drink, but what was Haechan supposed to do?
You would have told him to politely refuse the vodka that Jaehyun handed him, and you would be right.
But you weren’t here to curb Haechan’s poorer impulses, because you were on the dance floor, arms wrapped around Kim Seungmin as he held your waist, dancing to whatever song was currently blasting through the speakers.
Just saying his name made Haechan feel sick. Three months. That was how long you had been dating Seungmin, after you met him at an open house.
Haechan thought it was strange. What would a second-year university student want with a high school senior? Didn’t he have any other options?
Not that you weren’t desirable to almost any man that you met, but why you? You were all Haechan had, and all he wanted.
But you were stuck in the throes of puppy love, and any person could see the way you turned bashful each time Seungmin held a door open for you, or threw his jacket around your shoulders.
Haechan could do that too. He was already doing it, and more, until goddamned Kim Seungmin walked in with his carefully-ironed shirts and shiny leather shoes.
Was it because he was tall? Or perhaps because he was good-looking?
There wasn’t a clear reason Haechan could determine to explain why you would choose Seungmin over him, which only frustrated the boy more.
But when it came down to it, he relented. Because you were happy, and that was what mattered to him at the end of the day.
He was okay if you no longer walked home with him if you had a date with Seungmin, because at least you made sure to keep the weekly lunches and dinners. And he was able to smile if you got excited talking about Seungmin’s drink preferences because at least you remembered that Haechan’s favourite was a taro milk tea with pearls.
“Not dancing?” Haechan feels the weight of the sofa shift, Jaehyun sinking down next to him.
“Didn’t feel like it,” he replies, taking another sip of the now lukewarm alcohol.
But the computing student only grins knowingly. “Must suck being the third wheel and knowing you lost your chance.”
“There wasn’t a chance in the first place.”
Jaehyun only raises a curious eyebrow. Haechan’s not sure why he’s telling the man all this - he doesn’t even know him that well.
“You miss a hundred per cent of the shots you don’t take, dude,” Jaehyun reminds, and Haechan only blinks back, unimpressed.
“Did you just use a sports quote to sum up my love life?” he asks incredulously, and Jaehyun coughs awkwardly, waving a dismissing hand. After a while, he stands up, patting Haechan comfortingly on the shoulder.
“Hope it works out. I’ll see you around,” Jaehyun says, and Haechan nods, watching as the man weaves through the crowds and out of sight.
Somehow, his words only make Haechan feel more miserable, more pathetic as he leans against the couch, pillow on his lap.
When he finishes the first cup, he heads over to the bar himself, unable to stand the sight of you throwing your head back and laughing at something Seungmin is saying.
The bartender looks doubtful as to whether Haechan’s legal, but he doesn’t ask any questions as he mixes a margarita, handing him a bright yellow drink that fades into gradients of orange, a bit like a sunset. It’s tangy, citrusy and bright.
You’d love it, and that only makes him down the entire thing and ask for another one.
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Eventually, Haechan does reach the legal age to drink, one week into June.
But he quickly realises that alcohol doesn’t quite have the same kick when it’s not technically forbidden, and he chooses to celebrate his birthday quietly instead of throwing a full-blown party.
Sure, Jaemin may have slammed his face into a cake at some point during lunch, and Jeno left little piles of whipped cream all over his desk, complete with candles, but that doesn’t mean Haechan isn’t able to wind down with the few hours he has left of today.
Eighteen. It should feel like something big, something monumental, but Haechan feels strangely calm as he stares absentmindedly out of the window.
Eventually, he’ll be nineteen, then twenty, once the hands of the clock make enough rounds. In the big scheme of things, his turning eighteen feels minuscule.
“Happy birthday to you, dear Lee Haechan,” you sing, and Haechan turns his head to see you step out of the kitchen. You’re holding a cake gingerly in your hands, the candles casting a warm glow over your features as you move closer and closer to him.
When you set it down, there’s a breath of relief that escapes you, and he can’t help but laugh softly. The expression on your face is adorable, and you clap your hands together before looking at him.
“You should make a wish,” you say, grinning at him. Haechan decides to indulge you and lean forward.
“I hope Y/N’s singing improves,” he mutters lowly, but audible for you in the silence of the room. You let out an offended gasp, and he glances up at you innocently.
“You- I planned all this nicely, and- ugh. Fine. I’ll be nice to you because it’s your birthday,” you splutter, hands resting on your hips as you glare at him accusingly. “Also, if you say your wish out like that, it won’t come true.”
“But you’re the only one who can make it true. Isn’t this the most effective way?”
“You’re right, but- can’t you just make a real one?” you whine out, and Haechan scoffs slightly. Nevertheless, he closes his eyes.
A wish. He knows what he wants, but Haechan’s a little too scared to speak it into reality.
He wishes that you’d like him back. That you, Y/N L/N, would realise that maybe he, Lee Haechan, could belong to you, if you’d just let him.
And when he finally blows out the candle, there’s a desperate longing behind it, one that makes Haechan take a few moments to regain his composure before opening his eyes again, only to be met with the sight of you, looking at him with a pleased expression on your face.
“Here.” You hand him a fork. “Dig in.”
It’s become a tradition for both of you, splitting a small cake on birthdays, neither you nor Haechan bothering to cut it into neat slices.
He takes a large mouthful, chewing slowly. “This isn’t the cake we usually get, is it?” he asks, and you shake your head.
“Is it good?” you ask eagerly, and Haechan watches as you fiddle with your fingers nervously. He hums in thought for a few seconds, just to draw out the suspense, before nodding. “Yeah. I like it.”
Your shoulders collapse in relief at that, and Haechan rests his chin on his hand, now curious about your dramatic reaction. “Why? Where did you get it from?”
“I…made it,” you admit, tucking your hair behind your ear as you observe his reaction.
Haechan falls quiet, an unexplainable warm emotion flooding his chest as he looks down at the cake, and then back at you. It’s slightly lopsided, the frosting uneven on the sides, but none of that matters, not when he thinks about how you made it for him.
And he wishes that it would mean something beyond a caring gesture by a friend, because surely something about this is special.
“If you prefer the chocolate one we usually get from the bakery, I can get it next time-” you start, and in a moment of impulsivity, Haechan grabs your hand, causing you to pause when he looks at you, gaze heavy.
“I love it. Thank you,” he murmurs, not entirely sure if he can raise his volume without sounding like he’s choked up with emotion. A satisfied smile makes its way onto your face at that, and your eyes dart down to your intertwined hands, but you don’t pull away.
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
Eighteen doesn’t feel like much to Haechan, but spending it with you makes it feel a little more special.
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Haechan’s studying when you call him close to midnight.
“Hey. What’s up?” he asks, only to be greeted by a silent pause.
“Haechan. Are you- are you free?” you ask, and he frowns slightly, darting a glance at his watch. You don’t usually call him this late, and he’s already seeing you tomorrow. “I’m in my room, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“…Oh.” You’re oddly withdrawn when you reply to him, voice devoid of its usual cheeriness, and Haechan feels worry fill him. It sounds like you’re outside, and he wonders if you’re alone.
“Could you come and pick me up?” you ask, but your voice cracks with the last word, sounding strangely watery. He immediately closes his book, sitting up.
“Are you crying?”
You don’t reply to that,  but your quiet sniffles only further confirm his suspicions. “Text me your location, okay? I’ll be there soon,” he promises, grabbing his jacket and car keys before closing his bedroom door behind him, phone still pressed to his ear.
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“That jerk didn’t even bother to send you back?”
“I told him not to,” you reply, and Haechan looks over from the driver’s seat to see you leaning against the window.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, before wincing at the directness of the question. Haechan’s not exactly the best at comforting people, or empathizing with people, but you’re one of the people he knows too well, whose face he can read much too easily.
“As good as someone who got cheated on can feel,” you breathe out dejectedly, and Haechan takes one hand off the steering wheel to grasp yours, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles.
“You’ll meet other guys,” he mutters comfortingly, and you offer him a half-smile.
Haechan doesn’t point out the fact that he wishes he could be an option.
“Honestly, it doesn’t suck as much as I expected it would. I think- I think I was going to break up with Seungmin eventually. It’s just humiliating, I guess,” you admit, shifting your body to lean against the seat, eyes closed. “God, and all his university friends knew too. I looked so stupid.”
“That’s their problem,” Haechan hums. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, fiddling with the stereo slightly. “I’ll get over it eventually, I think. Thanks for picking me up. And just…being here,” you say softly, looking at Haechan with an unreadable look.
“Of course. I’ll always be here,” he replies immediately, feeling oddly nervous with the way you’re staring at him.
“I know. Me too.”
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By the time Haechan cuts the gas and pushes his car door open, you’re fast asleep in the passenger seat, breathing in a soft, steady rhythm as your head leans against the headrest. Thankfully, you’re no longer crying, which means you feel fine, at least for the moment. 
It’s times like this when Haechan’s grateful his parents forced him to join the taekwondo team in fourth grade, because he’s able to carry you up the stairs with little difficulty. You wake up briefly, which causes him to freeze, but you’re quick to nod off again, arms laced around his neck in a way that makes Haechan’s cheeks redden.
Just as he’s about to tuck the blanket over your figure, however, you stretch a hand out,  stopping him from going to the mattress laid out on the floor.
“Hyuck.”
“Hm?”
“Sleep here,” you mutter, shifting backwards and lifting the blanket away to show the space you’ve made on the bed.
Haechan’s eyes widen. “I don’t think-”
“Don’t be stubborn. It’s colder down there,” you protest,  pulling at his wrist insistently.
If anything, Haechan thinks you’re the more stubborn one, with the way you refuse to let go of him until he slides in next to you.
And when you throw an arm around his waist, the boy freezes completely, which causes you to make a sound of disapproval. “We used to do this all the time when we were kids.”
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Neither you nor Haechan are children anymore, and the latter is constantly plagued by the thought of his increasingly intense romantic feelings for you, which only seem to worsen in proximity.
“Are you sure this is a good idea-” he stops when you pinch the soft flesh of his waist, and Haechan stares at you, open-mouthed.
”It doesn’t matter. Now sleep,” you instruct firmly, nestling your head closer into the crook of his neck in a way that makes his brain short-circuit. “This doesn’t mean anything. We’re friends.”
And as Haechan lies there in the darkness of the room, your body tucked close to his, he can’t help but wish that it did.
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The first time Haechan gets drunk, he becomes dangerously close to confessing to you.
Thankfully, or not-so-thankfully, he bites his tongue at the last second, and instead settles for having you bring him home. It makes him feel a little better, having you care and fawn over him that way, especially when you leave a little note telling him about the porridge left in the rice cooker for him to eat when he wakes up.
Moments like those give Haechan a taste of what it’s like to be loved by you, and he can’t quite get enough of it. But it’s also heart-wrenchingly painful, especially when he knows he’s grasping at straws with you. After all, the illusion always breaks, leaving him to remember that as a best friend, he’s not supposed to love you in that way.
It would defeat every reason you had Haechan in your life. He was living, breathing proof that friendships between a male and a female could be platonic, and that he wasn’t selfishly one-minded like all the other guys that attempted to get close to you.
And if he confessed - Haechan feared he would no longer serve any key purpose in your life, which was an even more dire consequence than just pining over you.
But Haechan had never been very good at remaining patient.
Four years was a long, long time to have a crush on someone, and Haechan was starting to feel almost dishonest. Each time he hugged you close, or let you peck him on the cheek affectionately, Haechan had to act as if your actions hadn’t affected him, or caused his pulse to skyrocket.
If anything, he was like a parasite, basking in your attention as someone close to you could do.
“Hyuck!” You appear in his line of vision, smiling brightly, as if summoned.
God. You look beautiful. You always do, but there’s something about tonight that makes Haechan feel as if all the breath has been knocked out of his chest, the strobe lights making him feel awfully heady.
He hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol today, and neither have you. The both of you had made a promise to stay completely sober during the party, because there were lectures early tomorrow.
“Hey,” he says, in a gentle tone that seems to only be reserved for you, which Renjun had oh-so-kindly pointed out. Haechan wraps a hand around your waist, and you grin up at him. “Enjoying the party?” you ask, and he nods in response, swallowing hesitantly.
Haechan forgets that you know him much too well, however, and you extricate yourself from his grasp, frowning up at him. “Hyuck? Is something wrong?” Your eyes search his, and it takes everything in Haechan to shake his head, plastering a comforting smile on his face.
“I’m good. Why don’t you go dance?” he suggests, gesturing to the dance floor, and you furrow your eyebrows further. “Something’s up with you. You’re trying to chase me away.”
“I would never.” And he means it, he really does.
You shake your head, however, before an idea seems to enter your head and you light up. “Screw this party. Follow me,” you say, before wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pulling him through the throng of people that fill the club.
Haechan follows you wordlessly as you exit the club, turning a corner before walking down the pavement. “Here,” you say, and he glances at you.
”You brought me to…a park bench?” he asks, and you scoff. “It’s a park, genius. This is just for us to sit.” You settle down quickly, hands smoothing over your dress. “So, what’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, dragging his sneakers over the pavement. “Liar.”
“Why would I lie to you?” he asks, and you wrinkle your nose, an adorable action that makes Haechan want to peck it softly. “Because you’ve been acting strange all morning. You keep staring at me, and you get all stiff whenever I hug you, and you keep getting distracted while I talk to you,” you ramble, lifting up your fingers to count off for emphasis in a way that makes Haechan wince.
He didn’t know he was that obvious.
But that slight hesitation is now replaced by inner turmoil, especially while you continue looking at him, expectant of a reply.
Four years. That’s over a thousand days of loving you, of wishing you’d glance his way and maybe decide that your best friend is the person you want. He wonders if it’s too much to hope for, but that’s all his heart can do when it comes to you.
Haechan remembers when you were in the hospital for fracturing a bone, and he told you that if you folded hundred paper cranes and made a wish, it would come true.
The day you finished, you were discharged, but not before he got you that book that you had been eyeing ever since its promotional poster was stuck up on the wall of the local bookstore.
He’s not sure if the same logic can apply, but if Haechan’s loved you for this long, he at least deserves to be honest with his feelings. There’s not much that he wouldn’t do to see you happy, to see all of your wishes fulfilled if he could do something about them.
“Y/N. Can I make a wish?” he asks, and you tilt your head curiously. “What is it?”
He knows that what he says next will decide everything. It’ll shift the world on its axis, or at least Haechan’s, considering how big a part of it you are. But he wants to be brave, or at least try.
“I wish you’d give me a chance,” he breathes out, leaning against the park bench and tilting his gaze up towards the sky. He hears your sharp inhale, not quite finding the resolve to look at your expression. “What do you mean?” you ask, but there’s a sort of knowing in your voice, the kind that tells Haechan you already know what he means.
“You know what I mean,” Haechan replies, finally turning to face you. “I think my crush on you is pretty obvious. I was much better at hiding it when I was eighteen.”
“How- why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not sure. Crippling fear of rejection, maybe,” he jokes, watching as your expression lightens and you throw your head back to let out a laugh before leaning down next to him, head resting on his shoulder.
You haven’t made any indication of what you’re thinking, which should make Haechan feel bad, but for some reason, he feels strangely light, as if a burden’s been lifted off.
At twenty-two, Haechan finally tells the world about his feelings for you, and he quickly finds that he doesn’t regret it.
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When Haechan was in first grade, his elementary teacher asked him what his biggest fear was during an ice-breaker exercise with the other kids. Most of them replied with spiders, ghosts, or heights. The more humorous ones replied with death, earning a few giggles from the rest of the classroom.
But Haechan had answered with loneliness. It was oddly sorrowful for a young kid, but truthfully, he had just learnt the words a few days ago and wanted an opportunity to use them.
And he supposes it’s quite accurate, especially when he turns to face the ceiling, the bedsheets cold against his bare torso. There’s not much that Haechan can do to prevent loneliness, beyond finding others who temporarily fill the gaping hole in his heart.
But being in solitude was inevitable, which meant that he simply had to grit his teeth and push through until he found another distraction.
“You’re still awake?” A voice pulls him halfway out of his thoughts, and Haechan’s fully brought back to reality by your fingers dancing over his bare skin, before cupping his cheek gently to bring his mouth towards yours in a gentle kiss.
“I’m not sure. Crippling fear of rejection, maybe,” he jokes, watching as your expression lightens and you throw your head back to let out a laugh before leaning down next to him, head resting on his shoulder.
“You should have told me. I thought we promised not to keep secrets from each other as best friends.”
“I didn’t want to. God- you have no idea how much I wanted them to disappear. I wish I could say that we were just best friends, but I think- that changed for me a long time ago. You’ve never just been a friend. You never could be,” Haechan feels himself swallow hesitantly, gaze quickly dragging away from yours. “But it’s up to you. I’ll accept anything.”
The silence is deafening as he waits for your reply. Haechan feels vulnerable, terribly so, but it’s also strangely freeing.
“If I say that I’ve never thought about you in a romantic way, I would be lying,” you start. “But I’m scared.”
At that very moment, Haechan’s heart seizes with a hope that’s all-consuming, so much that it’s almost painful. “Why are you scared?” he asks, interlocking his fingers softly with yours, and you laugh lightly.
“I take too long to get over people. Even an asshole like Seungmin took a year,” you huff out, causing Haechan to chuckle, a fond sound that lights warmth in your chest. “But you- if we break up and you leave my life, I don’t think I’ll ever recover fully,” you finally admit, looking down at your lap.
It takes a few moments before Haechan pulls your hands over to his lap, and you look at him , wide-eyed with surprise.
“Even if we did break up, I doubt I could leave your life. You’d probably have to move to a different country,” Haechan replies. “And if you did, who says I wouldn’t book the next flight out?”
His question makes your lips quirk up despite the sombre atmosphere, and you giggle softly. “Fair enough. I would do the same,” you reply, and the look that Haechan gives you is one so full of love, of affection, that you’re not quite sure what to do about it.
“I’ll let you break my heart before I even get close to hurting yours. Is that good enough of a promise?”  Haechan’s eyes search yours desperately as if looking for some sort of answer, and you find that you can’t quite find it in you to refuse, not when he’s looking at you as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered.
He loves you. That much is clear. But now, Haechan is asking if you’re willing to let him love you in all the ways he wants to, unabashedly and unrelentingly.
“Okay.”
When you finally break away from him, Haechan grabs onto your waist reflexively, in a futile attempt to reduce the distance between the both of you again. He watches as you lean against your forearms, hair falling carelessly over your shoulder as you meet his gaze.
“It’s three in the morning,” you remind him, but offer an indulgent smile anyways. “It’s fine. Neither of us has work tomorrow.”
“But I’m tired,” you mutter softly, and Haechan’s lips tilt up. “Sleep, then.”
“I will, if you stop trying to kiss me.”
“You were the one who kissed me first,” Haechan murmurs against your skin, peppering kisses against your jaw and relishing the content sigh you let out. “You’re only getting what you wanted.”
“Fine. Just a while more, then,” you relent, and he tries not to make his smile too obvious as he moves to rest his weight over yours, your back now lying flat against the bed.
Haechan takes the opportunity to brush your hair over your forehead, tucking it behind your ear.
“You know I love you, right?” he asks, and despite your drowsy expression, you manage to hum teasingly. “Do I? I think you should tell me again, just in case I forget.”
He laughs then, a careless sound that echoes around the empty bedroom. “I already do. Every single day. But I’ll tell you more often, if that’s what you want,” he promises, and you nod in satisfaction.
It’s only thirty minutes later, when you begin to doze off and Haechan moves to grab another pillow, that you nestle closer to him, hair tickling his neck slightly. “I love you too, Hyuck,” you whisper, but in the quiet of the room, it comes out crystal-clear.
Haechan’s heard it a thousand times, but it still makes his heart twist delightfully each time you tell him you love him. Nevertheless, he soon realises that he doesn’t need you to say it, not when you’ve already shown it from the way you hug him close in the morning, or make sure he eats his meals every single day.
And now, as you lean against his chest, fingers resting gently against his skin, Haechan can’t help but press a gentle kiss to your forehead and pull you as close as physically possible.
He finally knows what it’s like to be wholly loved by you, and it’s breathtaking.
2K notes · View notes
haechwrites · 11 months
Text
sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH
prince!lee donghyuck x baker fem!OC (no name!)
synopsis: prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.
wc: ~17.1k
warnings: pet names used only so i don't have to namedrop lol. no other warnings tho!
A/N: this is my second longest fic i've actually finished hehe i'm really happy with this one and now i wish i had a prince haechan lol
-- some things to note first:
THIS FIC IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON. if you see ♔, that means it's in haechan's pov written in third person!
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
As a child, life is all about the simple pleasures. It didn’t matter that I’d come home to a dark house carrying the faint snores of my mother. I was still reeling from the sweet taste of mangoes on my tongue, the slight dusting of sugar in my hair, and the lingering soreness from laughing in my cheeks. I’d quickly wash up, give my mom a quick peck on the forehead, and tuck myself in bed. Before I know it, the sun greets me again and I meet my grandma outside as she leads me to the palace. This was my routine and for my young brain, there was nothing ever wrong with it.
My grandma is the head baker at the palace. Since the separation of my parents, I have spent my days with my grandma at work. It was all I knew and I was content with it. Every sunrise, I’d have 30 minutes before I had to meet her outside. Together, we’d walk to the palace’s servant entrance and my grandma would give our favorite guard, Doyun, a warm smile and a promise to slip an extra pastry in his meal for letting me tag along. I’d walk past him with a finger to my lips asking him to be sworn to secrecy. He’d always return it with a wink and a small laugh. It was our little promise, though I’m sure no one would actually mind an extra guest on the grounds – especially a mere 7-year-old. 
Once inside the kitchen, I strap on the apron that the palace’s tailor secretly made specifically for me. Grandma told me that the busiest times in the kitchen were the mornings, so I always sit in the corner to let her start the day. I occupy myself for at least an hour before my friend comes to play with me. His entrance is always the same: a secret knock on the side door and a gleaming smile when I open it for him. 
Today he’s dressed up in a super fancy garment, almost like a uniform. I had never seen him in anything other than his casual button-up and pants, typically covered by an extra adult-sized apron we’d find laying around.
“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”
“Princess!,” He’d squeal, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s my special outfit.”
“Is it your birthday?” My nose scrunches in confusion, looking him up and down. Even if it was his birthday, I can’t imagine his servant parents could afford such expensive fabric. 
Donghyuck laughs before yanking a spare apron off its hook and pulling it over his head. 
“Nooo. I have something important to do today. That’s why I’m wearing this,” He explains, looking a little nervous.
“Oh wow. You look like the King. Or like a prince,” I say jokingly, but Donghyuck freezes. His eyes are wide like the time he accidentally ate the last mango tart I was saving.
Then he breaks out into an awkward laugh and smiles wide at me, “I am a prince… because you’re my princess.” He says with utmost confidence, before grabbing my hands. We’re standing the way I position my two play dolls during a pretend wedding ceremony.
I quickly turn the shade of freshly baked cherry pies and I tear my hands out of his hold.
“Donghyuck-ah! How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I huff, crossing my arms. 
He snickers, “Hmmm… maybe one hundred more times.”
“One hundred more times?!”
“Yes, if you can even count that high,” he smirks, instantly easing the tension from earlier. He plops down onto my stool and looks up at me. “So what are we playing today? Or should we read? Or does Baker Grandma need help?”
I aimlessly kick the leg of the stool, thinking about what we could do today as I can see him anxiously bounce around in his seat. He looks like he’s running on limited time today. Sometimes Donghyuck disappears on me in the middle of our hangouts or doesn’t show up at all. I just assume his parents need help with their tasks just like how Grandma often calls me to help her bake. He’s never told me where in the palace they work despite the years we’ve been hanging out. 
“What if we help your parents today?” The minute the question leaves my lips, I hear a snort from the kitchen staff and Donghyuck goes into a coughing fit as if the flour seeped into his lungs.
I begin to feel myself turn red again and wondering what was so wrong till I feel a familiar warm hand on my shoulder.
“Ah Donghyuck, you’re here today?” My grandma looks at his attire with a suspicious gaze. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Her hands are on her hips and it feels similar to the times she’s caught me using the oven on my own.
Donghyuck starts shyly giggling while fiddling with the oversized apron my grandma is reaching to remove. I stand there in confusion as he looks like a puppy that was told he wasn’t allowed to play or have a treat. I want to help him but the look on grandma’s face is too scary to fight.
She’s slowly ushering him out the door and I’m holding his apron in my hands, watching him pout.
“Bye Hyuck,” I mutter, sad that our day was cut short before it even began. This was the quickest that one has ended.
“Byeee Princess,” He says with as much despair in his voice. He always has to be a little more dramatic than me. I giggle and wave him goodbye, spirits lifted by his antics. I see a smile grow on his face at the sound of my laugh before my grandma closes the door.
My loneliness returns as I stare at the wooden panels of the side door. 
“Did he have to go?” I ask, slumping back onto the stool he was just on.
My grandma turns to me with a quizzical look. I can’t tell if she’s angry, sad, or disappointed and then she’s crouched down in front of me. Her flour-coated hands are resting on my lap.
“Donghyuck got called by his parents. They’re very important people,” She starts slowly. Grandma has never talked about Donghyuck’s family or personal life before. It was never brought up in the past because I assumed he was just like me. Now that we’re finally beginning to talk about it, the hesitant look on her face makes me not want to know anymore. 
“Guards?,” I ask. To me, Doyun is the most important worker in the castle as he freely lets me in and out. Maybe guards earn enough to adorn such fancy clothes I saw Donghyuck wear.
“No, honey,” She glances back at her staff, and I notice they’ve been watching. They give me a reassuring smile, but there’s uneasiness quivering on their lips.
“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
They found him. Donghyuck’s personal guards find him where they usually do when he escapes his tasks, and that would be at the palace kitchen. This time, they find him outside the door, rather than inside scarfing down mango tarts. 
Without any hesitation and with no room for him to trick them and run, they grab the tiny prince and bring him to the meeting he was meant to attend with the King. It was meant to be the first glimpse of his life as a future ruler, attending meetings with fellow diplomats and other boring princely things. Donghyuck does not understand why he can’t spend his day playing like a regular 7-year-old with his pretty friend from the kitchen. 
Despite having complained and whined his way out of most duties, Donghyuck had reached the level of maturity to know that this one he couldn’t fight. I mean, the tailor adjusted his royal attire just for this one-hour meeting. After having come to terms with sitting in boredom for an hour, Donghyuck did not expect to be dragged into more as he was about to skip his way over to the kitchen once the diplomats left.
“And where are you off to now, Donghyuck?”
He freezes in his tracks and a shiver ripples down his spine at the sound of her voice. He’s been caught again.
He spins around, plastering the biggest smile possible on his face. “Nowhere, Mother. Just strolling around until my tutoring session.” He hopes she doesn’t recognize this path to the kitchen.
“And is your tutoring session located in the kitchen today?” She asks, words dripping with a patronizing attitude. Nothing Donghyuck isn’t used to.
“Oh! I wanted to see if I could get a quick snack before. My brain needs food, right?” He hides his crossed fingers behind his back, praying she doesn’t call his bluff.
“And you’re not just going there to see that girl, are you?” She takes a step closer and Donghyuck is scared she can see the drip of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead. How did she know about Princess? He wonders if his guard ratted him out… even after Donghyuck gave him half of his tart. The betrayal, he scoffs. 
“There’s no girl, Mother.” Donghyuck decides it's best to deny it and stare straight at his feet. 
“You are correct, there will never be a girl. Instead, there will be a future queen. A princess for now and you need to begin meeting our potential suitresses,” The queen firmly states, grabbing his shoulders to steer him towards the library. Before he could stop himself, his chest bubbles with heat, and his brain is fogged with confusion. He can’t imagine anyone by his side but her.
“Why can’t she be my princess?”
The words spill out from his royal lips before he could catch them. There’s no missing the instant look of rage and disgust on the Queen’s face when her son’s true desires are revealed. Desires of the heart, but a complete disgrace to his duties as the Prince. Her eyes grow colder and her skin pales till her blush is the brightest hue on her cheeks. 
Donghyuck feels his throat go dry and the crossed fingers behind his back unlock. No luck can help him now.
“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”
The queen’s words are final. His shoulders slump lower and his feet are heavy as he drags them across the cobblestone trailing toward the library. It feels like there was a wall that slammed into the ground behind him, forbidding him from seeing her again.
“Yes, ma’am. No more.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^
The only memory of my childhood that lingered was the heat of the oven. Like I did every day at the age of 7, I continued to bake to keep that fire alive. There were days where the warmth was cooler than normal and my urge to bake waivered. Days like when my grandma stopped showing up outside my house every day a half hour after sunrise. Days like when my mother decided I was too much to raise when I stopped spending my time at the palace. And days like the one when I moved out of the city to live with my dad. 
However, there were also days where the flame was ablaze. Days like when I got my own personal baking set. Days like when I got accepted into a baking school. And days like today, where I return to the city that pushed me out fifteen years ago to open a bakery. Despite the dismal circumstances of the day I left, I always felt the urge to return. It never felt right that I moved in the first place. Confusion still envelops my mind when I think about how my grandma stopped taking me to the palace for unsaid reasons and how my mother was incapable of taking care of me due to it. There had to be something more going on. 
Outside of this mystery of my childhood, my main goal was to return with my own bakery specializing in my soon-to-be infamous mango tarts. I had visited the city for the first time since my move before to scope out bakery locations. But today was the day that I officially move in, to both my home and bakery, and kickstart my business. My first task was to put up a sign displaying the bakery’s name.
“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”
Warmth blooms in my chest; I would recognize that voice anywhere. I flip around and I’m greeted with her same sugary sweet smile. My grandma looks just as she did before but her hair is dusted white like the flour she worked with. But she still smelled like spiced apple pie, my eyes watered in disbelief. 
“Grandma!” I ran into her open arms and I could feel her chuckle. 
“Oh honey, it’s been much too long. Look at you now… a beautiful woman before my eyes,” She’s smiling widely and I can see her eyes take in my features. Fifteen years worth of change and growth. 
“I’m sorry we haven’t been in contact much. I could barely find the time to tell you I was coming back.”
“It’s alright. All that matters is you’re here,” Grandma rubs my arms reassuringly. “And are you here alone? Or have you moved back with a lover?” The childish gleam on her face makes me giggle and I quickly correct her that I’m single and focusing on my baking.
“Ah, I see. In that case, you must have more time than I anticipated. You must come with me to work one of these days. Just like old times. Consider it research for your bakery.” The way she sways with excitement makes it hard for me to turn it down, and I can’t deny the flutter in my heart at the idea of stepping foot onto the palace grounds again. It was where it all started for me. I agreed with a smile.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
After a week of prepping the bakery, I decided to visit my grandma. To be completely honest, outside of the work I had to do, my nerves did play a role in keeping me from going earlier. But now that I’ve decided I’ve run out of excuses, I’m walking to the servant entrance of the palace a little before noon to give my grandmother the morning to solely focus on work. It makes me smile knowing I still remember the schedule of the palace kitchen. 
The streets surrounding the castle are quiet at this hour. I can still remember the hustle and commotion of the staff in the early morning, lining up to get inside to start their days. It was never daunting to be a young girl surrounded by a diverse array of people. It was thrilling and almost comforting and it was much better than staying home alone. 
When I reach the gates, I feel like I’ve traveled back in time because blocking my path is a young guard who looks eerily like Doyun, the guard I knew from before.
“How can I help you, miss?”
“Hi.” I’m inspecting his face. He has the same colored hair, but it’s parted differently. He has the same warm light brown eyes and his face is a little softer than Doyun’s. My mind can’t help but ask, “I’m sorry if this is a strange question but do you know Guard Doyun?”
His stiff demeanor drops like a curtain and the young guard’s eyes light up, “I’m his son, Yunseo! How do you know my father?” Suddenly I don’t see a guard in uniform, but instead a bright, inviting individual in his place.
“No wonder! I’m the granddaughter of the head baker. I used to greet your father every morning when I was a child.” 
“Oh yes! Yes, she told me you were coming. You can go right along in, just make sure she knows to sneak me an extra sweet treat.” He opens the gates for me.
“Ah like father, like son,” I giggle, slightly bowing to him as I enter.
“Do you remember how to get to the kitchen?”
I stare at the familiar worn cobblestone paths and nod, “I think so.”
The walk to the kitchen is shorter than I remember but the smell wafting from the windows is all the same. I reach the side door and I’m about to knock when I notice it’s creaked slightly open. I hear a voice above all the kitchen noise.
“Gran, please sneak something in my food today so I can get sick and stay in bed for the whole week. I do not want to court these women.” I peek my head in further to take a look at the man speaking. I let out a soft gasp when my eyes land on him.
Outside of his stunning beauty, he looks familiar. His tufts of chestnut brown hair are slightly waved as they curl around the nape of his neck. He often shakes his head to get the bangs out of his face, exposing his tan skin. If I look close enough, he has distinguishable moles on the plush curves of his cheeks. His rosy lips are wrapped around a piece of pastry and even when he’s talking with his mouth full, he’s still attractive. My eyes instantly widen when I notice his outfit: the royal attire.
A squeal escapes my mouth and before I could hide, the door is swung open by my grandma.
“You’re here!”
At the announcement of my arrival, the young man is dusting the crumbs off his hands, and looks like he’s about to make a quick escape. 
“Hi Grandma,” I give her a hug, not minding the flour sticking to my sweater. “I was just about to knock.” I let out a small laugh to hide the fact that I was definitely eavesdropping not moments ago.
“Grandma?” I hear the man say behind her. He decided to stay after realizing it wasn’t one of his guards coming to get him, but instead a pretty woman. An oddly, familiar, pretty woman. 
My grandma bites her lip to keep from smiling any bigger and she grabs my arm to present me to the man.
“Oh my. I forgot you guys know each other! It’s Donghyuck, do you remember, honey? You used to play with him every day as I worked.” The glint in her eyes is something more than just happy nostalgia and I give her a look.
“Pri-... Princess?” When the old nickname leaves his lips, I gasp and feel my cheeks bloom pink. The layers of the handsome man in front of me started to peel and I could see the little boy I spent my early life with. Most of my warmest days were spent with him. But I’m also brought back to one of the colder days of my childhood. The day I found out my childhood best friend was the Prince. 
At first, I didn’t understand why my grandma was so fearful of telling me who he really was. I was ecstatic to hear that Donghyuck was royalty. I was fascinated and curious to see what his life was like and how it compared to being the granddaughter of a palace worker. I soon learned that what I wanted to discover was not so glamorous. Because apparently, his life excluded me. I didn’t piece that together until a few years after my move. Why else did Donghyuck stop showing up and why else was I forbade from going to the palace with my grandma? When I came to the realization, I began to resent him and eventually, completely forgot about him.
“Prince Donghyuck,” I bowed, trying not to show any expression. He had his arm slightly raised like he was about to reach for me but his body stiffened at my curtness. My grandma even looks at me with confusion. “It’s… It’s nice to see you again.”
“Oh, there’s no need to be so polite. You guys were friends!” My grandma squeezes my arms, urging me to get closer. I stay in my place.
“He’s the Prince, Grandma,” I whisper through my teeth and I can tell he hears me by the dejected look on his face. I can’t get myself to look him in the eyes.
“It’s quite alright. I actually have to get going. Prin-... Sorry, It was lovely to see you,” The Prince ducks his head and leaves the way I came in. He looks back at my figure once more, thoughts churning, before he disappears.
My feet remain still and I’m staring at the place he stood. Staring at the pastry he bit into. He’s real and he’s back. And the door he walked through was the same one he used to leave me 15 years ago. The alarms rang in my brain and I quickly shook my head, grabbing a bowl and mixing whatever contents are in it. The faster I stirred, the more I begged my mind to stop thinking about Donghyuck.
“You’re overwhipping the cream.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
On every page he turned to, the words blurred and all Donghyuck could see was her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She’s much taller now, and he naturally smiles remembering when she used to argue that he was only taller than her by a centimeter. Her hair was also longer and not bound in her classic two braids. Though he didn’t get to see her smile, he was sure that it’s brighter than before. After all, everything about her seemed to have grown more beautiful than before. Donghyuck wonders if he should be calling her “Queen” now with how wonderfully she’s aged. 
A delicate tap on his shoulder forces Donghyuck out of his lovestruck haze. “Prince Donghyuck, are you enjoying your book?”
He remembers that he’s in the library with one of his potential suitresses. He turns to her and almost wants to laugh. For the years that his childhood friend has been gone, it was the memory of her that invaded his mind whenever he was forced to go on these dates. But now that Donghyuck has seen her again in the flesh, he realizes how doomed he is and how these other princesses definitely don’t stand a chance.
During the fifteen years apart, Donghyuck’s gloom exacerbated the Queen’s determination to find him a future queen. Out of all his regular royal responsibilities, his courtships took the most time. He excels in all areas of his duties, but the one he can’t manage to succeed in is getting a wife. From playdates to formal dates, Donghyuck aged and remained single. And both he and the head baker knew why. 
Despite the Queen’s warnings to never enter the kitchen, Donghyuck found himself there every week whether it was to steal extra mango tarts or ask about the baker’s granddaughter. It was usually after failed dates when he’d trudge into the kitchen, completely drained of energy, and beg the baker to talk to him about his first love. Questions about where she is, how she’s doing, and whether she thinks of him spill from his mouth, and the baker would entertain him every time. Even if he only knew and could only remember the child version of her, Donghyuck still managed to compare her to every suitress he met. None of them stood a chance against his princess. And though with time he could recognize how silly this infatuation had gotten, he grew fatigued of courtship and this was the easiest way to go about it. The grandmother was wary of this long overrun connection as well, but at the same time commended him for his commitment to her granddaughter. She also didn’t have the heart to tell him to move on.
And now Donghyuck’s here, on another date and he actually has an image, a real person, to be thinking of. 
“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to work out.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“So you are hiding from me?”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” I drop the bowl of frosting at my feet and scramble to pick it up. A pair of far too expensive shoes enter my vision. I shoot up and my heart races, knowing exactly who it is.
“My prince,” I bow, meeting the ground once more. I stand upright and give him a passing smile.
“I like hearing you say that,” The Prince smirks. He swiftly scoops a finger of frosting before popping it in his mouth.
“Formalities,” I respond and I move the bowl out of his reach.
He chuckles and he starts to fiddle with an apron left on the counter.
“So you’ve been visiting at nighttime. Are you actually avoiding me?” He looks at me like he’s challenging me to say no. 
Yes. “No, I just prefer the kitchen at night.” I clutch the frosting bowl tighter and focus my attention on what’s salvageable.
“You mean my kitchen… which you’ve been sneaking into with the help of my guard.” I can feel that he’s moved closer and I wince.
“Yes… I’m sorry. My grandma said it’d be okay and my kitchen at the bakery isn’t finished being built. If you’d like me to stop coming, I can.” I start to untie my apron and his hand catches my wrist.
“No,” He blurts out. “There’s no need. Feel free to use the kitchen.” The Prince raises his hands in the air as if to give me permission. I politely nod and go back to fixing my frosting, ignoring the tingling I feel on my wrist. 
He doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he puts on the apron from the counter and leans in to watch.
“Um, what are you doing?” The Prince is tapping the table and humming as he stares at me.
“Hanging out,” He says matter-of-factly. 
“I see,” And that’s all that I can say because who am I to kick the Prince out of his own kitchen? So I just mix and continue doing my thing.
“Just like the old days. You do remember, right?” I make the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. He’s looking at me like his question meant more than just a test of my memory.
“Vaguely… It was a long, long time ago.” A time I don’t wish to relive.
There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.
“Well, I remember. I think I’ll always remember. You were my best friend… And those were probably the best days of my life.” He doesn’t look at me when he says this. In fact, he looks nervous to be admitting it in the first place. 
All I can do is nod, not knowing what to say to his confession. Especially when the feeling I get when I look back on those times is not as positive.
“Anyway… I’m planning on recreating those times.” Without thinking, I meet his eyes and he’s smiling hopefully. “So don’t try to hide from me next time. I’ll be here whenever you are. Think of it as your payment for using the kitchen.” 
The uneasiness and warmth in my stomach are hard to decipher. The thought of spending more time with him is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I try to ease my nerves by mixing even harder and he notices before laughing. 
With my unspoken agreement, we spend the rest of the night in silence, just in each other’s presence. Every now and then he steals a bite of my makings and tries to lighten the air with a poorly made joke. And I don’t hold my laughter back.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“And then, once the frosting is on, you can add the strawberries.” I demonstrate by putting the nicely sliced strawberries on in a thin layer. 
“When are you going to teach me how to make the mango tart?” The Prince pouts and bites the strawberries instead of putting them on the cake. I scowl and move the bowl away from him. 
“When are you going to stop eating my ingredients?”
He smirks and taps the counter, “When are you going to stop using my kitchen?” He tilts his head to the side to goad me.
I roll my lips into my mouth and stuff another strawberry in his face when he laughs. 
“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.
Completely out of my control, my hangouts with Prince Donghyuck have returned. However, this time, I know he’s the prince and instead of every day in the morning, it’s 2 to 3 times a week at night. My excuse is that my kitchen in the bakery isn’t done being built, but to be completely honest, I could have it done by the end of the week. Maybe it’s because I enjoy my time with the Prince or maybe it’s because I actually do want the extra amenities I asked to be installed last minute… who knows? The end conclusion is that I find myself in the palace’s kitchen more often than I intended, and I find myself enjoying the Prince’s company more than I intended.
“Okay, your highness. Do you think you can stack these layers evenly?” 
He gives me a playful salute, mouth full of cream, as he hops off the kitchen counter. He stands by my side and takes the cake from my hands.
“You know… as much as I like hearing you call me ‘your highness,’ why don’t you ever call me by my name anymore?” 
“Because now I know you’re the Prince.” And I don’t know how it feels to have your name roll off my tongue as it did before, I think to myself.
The Prince lets out a low whistle. “Do you see me differently?” He trains his eyes to the level of the cake to get it precisely right. I watch him from above.
“It’s been fifteen years… so yes, I do see you differently.” I move to mix more frosting to coat the cake with.
“Okay,” He nods, thinking about my response. “So me being the Prince isn’t part of it?” He glances at me quickly with what I can assume is worry before he goes to add another layer of cake.
“Mmm… It is. Not a big part, but definitely a part. I think it’s mainly because you’ve grown up, We’ve both grown up. Maybe me more than you,” I tease. He sticks his tongue out at me and I make a face back. “Example number one.”
He finishes putting on the last layer and stands up straight to admire his work.
“What makes me different than before?” He takes the frosting bowl from my hands and begins icing the cake like I’ve taught him a couple of days ago. I take this as a break and I lift myself up to sit on the counter, dangling my feet.
“You’re taller than me, for one,” he gasps in fake shock and I hit him on the shoulder. 
“You’re dressed nicer.”
“That’s not a compliment for me, that’s a compliment for my stylist,” He corrects me.
“True, okay. You’re smarter than before, I can see you’re not skipping your tutoring sessions. And… you’re not as cute.”
At that, he perks up, frosting is long forgotten. “What do you mean I’m not as cute?” And with the face he’s making, I almost take back my words.
“Well, your highness, you were a boy before. Of course, you’re not cute now. You’re a man.” I roll my eyes as if that were the most obvious thing.
“If I’m not cute, then what am I?” He squints at me and I can tell I’ve fallen into a trap.
“You’re… You’re handsome. Now,” I mutter out. I quickly clear my throat and point to a bald spot on the cake. “Hey, you missed a spot.”
Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling. “You think I’m handsome.”
“Alright,” I drag out the word. “You’re the Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome so you can woo and marry a pretty princess?”
“Not exactly. Being ridiculously handsome isn’t a royal requirement.”
I let out a scoff, “When did I say ‘ridiculously handsome’?”
“You didn’t have to, I see it on your face.” He taps my cheek and I suddenly notice how close our faces have gotten. Before I know it, my face is blooming pink again and I can feel the warmth shoot from my head to the rest of my body. I launch myself back and adjust my apron. And he stares at me like he’s won.
“Okay, your turn. What’s different about me?” I look around the kitchen to get my heart to settle down. What is happening?
The Prince doesn’t hesitate. “Well, you’re just as beautiful as you were before. Maybe even more.”
I gasp at his words and look him in the eyes. There’s no hint of his typical teasing attitude; he looks completely genuine. My mind goes blank and my ability to respond is rendered useless. He seems to notice that so he brushes off his comment quickly, thinking he’s overstepped.
“Anyways, since we’ve discovered that the only thing that makes me different from before is that I’m exceptionally more handsome-”
“Didn’t say that.”
“-Then why don’t you just call me ‘Donghyuck.’ Like you did before.”
Maybe it’s because he called me beautiful. Maybe it’s because I like the idea of exclusively calling him ‘Donghyuck.’ Or maybe I’m excited to eat the cake we just made, but my heart is fluttering quicker than it ever has.
“Okay. Donghyuck.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”
“OH SHIT!”
Watching the medium sized fire bursting from the top of the pot, I run to the fire extinguisher. I’m scrambling to grab it, swift to squeeze the white dust all over the burning stove, despite the dough covering my hands. I hear Donghyuck’s screams in the back and he’s grabbing my shoulders to hide. Once I see the last flame get coated, I drop the extinguisher on the ground, exhausted.
I feel his hands digging into my shoulder blades and I grab him by the jacket, turning him to face me. Knowing how to cover his ass, he smiles in shame, rubbing my arm.
“I swear I was watching the stove,” He whips out his baby voice and try my best not to smack the side of his head. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince, I repeat to myself. 
“Your looks distracted me.” I slap him anyways.
He groans in pain, even though I could’ve slapped harder and I cross my arms to look as threatening as possible. 
“You burnt the caramel,” I whine, staring at the black tar in my brand new pot. “And my pot!”
He immediately attacks me with a hug, shaking me around, mumbling apologies. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise! I’ll buy you three! Four? Seven!”
“Make it eight,” I huff, tearing his arms off me, only to weirdly miss them.
He gasps, hands against his head in shock. “You definitely dressed prettier today just so I could set your pot on fire and buy you twenty more… You’re evil,” He looks at me like I’ve masterminded the biggest robbery of the century. 
I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my hand to smack him again. “And you’re on timeout. No more baking today.” I start putting away the dishes I had ready.
“Hey! Who’s older here?” Donghyuck begins helping me sort the supplies into the pantry.
“I’m pretty sure I am,” I say, trying to remember if we told each other our birthdays back then.
“When were you born?”
“May.”
“Shit,” He mutters. He tosses the burnt pot into the trashcan, wincing at the char. “Okay, let’s keep the ball rolling. What’s your favorite color?”
I laugh, “Really? Also should I save this dough for tomorrow when we try again?” I hold it up to show him and inspects it.
“Yeah, why not? Just wear a trashbag or something tomorrow.” I kick him in the foot and he chuckles. “But yes, really. What’s your favorite color? I like red.”
“Purple,” I play along while saran wrapping the dough. “Favorite food?”
“Kimchi jjigae,” he spits out, with no hesitation. I nod along, remembering all the times he’s requested it as a midnight snack while we bake. “What do you like to do besides baking?”
“I like to go on walks. When I moved out of the city and with my dad, we lived near the beach. It was nice to just walk on the shore only five minutes away from me. I miss it sometimes. I should probably visit soon.” I tap the bowl mindlessly, trying to figure out my schedule.
“You should take me,” Donghyuck says. He’s right next to me now. “I always wondered where you went after I stopped seeing you. I assumed you were still in the city, until your grandma told me you moved-moved.”
“Ohh, no, yeah. I moved. It was hard leaving everything I knew, but at the same time, I learned so much when I was there with my dad. Come with me next time, and we can hangout on the beach. Nothing should be too flammable there.” I tease, bumping his hip with mine. He laughs with me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks almost guilty.
“You know, when I found out you were the Prince, I wrote down a list of questions. I was so excited to see what your life is like.” 
This grabbed his attention and my heart eased seeing his eyes light up a little more. The kitchen was relatively clean now, so I decided to prop myself up on the counter. Donghyuck always gets mad at the sudden height difference, but I can tell he loves it when he naturally wedges himself between my thighs like he does right now.
“Yeah? Do you remember any?” His hands were pinned on either side of my hips, forearms pressed against my outer thighs. It’s comfortable. I’m not sure when we got so comfortable. “This is kind of like ‘Princess and The Pauper.’”
I snort trying to remember my list. “I think I wanted to know how many crowns you had.”
“Classic question. I’m pretty sure I have three. My head’s kinda small, so it actually takes awhile for them to make it.”
I hum, investigating his head. “I can tell.”
“Mean.” He lightly pinches my thigh and I stop staring at his skull.
“I also wanted to know if you had any royal pets.”
“A cute, small, white dog. Yep.” He nods, like he’s impressed with himself for having such a basic dog and I have to laugh. 
“Any cool cars?”
“Tons,” He brags. “Okay, what does ‘Adult You’ want to know?”
There’s always been a question I wanted to ask him since I started hanging out with him again. It nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him, always happy, always cheering everyone on. Despite his bright facial expressions and body language, I could tell it was tiring, it must be. I never imagined the royal life to be hard, or as hard as my own, until I met him again.
I look at his face, checking for any signs that I shouldn’t be asking him. But he looks at me with such softness and openness, that I don’t hesitate to ask.
“Are you happy? Like… do you like being the Prince?”
His eyes widened at my question and he looks down at my lap to think. He takes longer than I expect, and I assume no one has ever bothered to ask. His silence is telling.
“Hey…,” I reach for his face to lift his chin up. “It’s okay to say you’re not. You don’t have to be all the time.”
He flinches like this was a concept he couldn’t accept for himself. I grab his face a little tighter so he really hears me.
“As long as you’re at least looking for your happiness, that’s all that matters,” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You deserve all the happiness, Hyuck.”
I can see his mind slowly wrapping around my words as something in his face shifts. He looks hesitant for a different reason.
“And what if I find my happiness in you?” I gasp, instinctively letting go of his face slightly. He’s fast to bring his hand up to keep mine there. His fingers slot between my gaps. He looks desperate to keep me here.
Knowing my words hold immense weight, I still don’t stop myself from saying, “Then I’ll be that for you, in whatever way I can.”
Despite me being vague, Donghyuck takes all that he can. His face blooms into a smile and I return it, knowing it was cause of me. He holds my hand this time and brings it down to my lap, sighing happily.
“Thank you.”
And for a split second, I’m scared for what I’ve promised. After all, he’s the prince and I’m the pauper.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Donghyuck is the happiest he has ever been. Unlike how it was when he was a kid, he’s attending his classes, his meetings, and even having lunches with the princesses the Queen sends over. However, he can’t promise that these dates are leading up to a potential marriage. He’s doing just enough so that his mother doesn’t get suspicious. Best of all, for most nights, he gets to sneak into the kitchen and talk, bake, and laugh for hours.
The secret hangouts are going amazingly. He can tell she’s warming up to him as she did back then or maybe it’s just the fire from the oven heating up the place. Last week, the kitchen at her new bakery finally finished being built and he knows this because he hired his staff to make sure the job was done well without telling her. That day he expected her to come in and tell him that she had to stop seeing him, but she still showed up like clockwork – two to three times a week. 
Next week, her bakery is set to have its grand opening and Donghyuck hopes this isn’t what actually stops her from coming to see him. He’s even practiced his baking skills on his own and eaten less of the fruit while they’re together in hopes it doesn’t make her want to leave again. And so for the following week, Donghyuck is treading carefully.
“Do you need help with that, Princess?”
“Should I preheat the oven for you?”
“Here, let me tie your apron.”
“I’ll carry that for you.”
All of these mini acts of chivalry are met with a suspicious gaze and a light dusting of red on her cheeks. Donghyuck feels a sense of achievement whenever she accepts his help. And this all leads up to the night before her grand opening.
Donghyuck is lighting the last candle when the sound of keys unlocking the side kitchen door is heard. He quickly blows out the match before scurrying behind the table to greet her with a “Surprise!”
“Donghyuck! Don’t do that! God, I thought I was caught for sneaking in.”
He rolls his eyes at her lackluster reaction and reorients himself. 
“I said… Surprise!” He dramatically waves his arms around to show all the work he put into decorating the kitchen. She finally notices her surroundings and her eyes light up. Donghyuck can feel his heart soften, compared to how it was racing earlier trying to set all of this up without his staff.
“What… what is all of this?” Her hands are covering her mouth in disbelief. There are streamers and fairy lights gracing the walls and candles are littered all around the room. Donghyuck is standing in the center with a single cupcake in his hands.
“Congrats. I heard from the grapevine that your bakery opens tomorrow.” She laughs at his theatrics and sets her bag down to look at the cupcake he’s made. In messy red font, the top of the treat reads the name of her bakery. She almost wants to tear up.
“Only one? Are we sharing?” She takes the cupcake from his hands and he tries not to think too hard about her fingers touching his.
“Well, I made that myself, and I personally don’t trust that I didn’t mess up the recipe in some way. So if anyone’s getting food poisoning tonight, it’d be you.” He taps her nose. “Eat up!”
At that, her jaw drops and she keeps the cupcake at a distance as if it’s some nuclear substance.
“Do you secretly want me dead?” She laughs.
“Hey, when it comes down to a royal and a baker. The baker’s going.” Donghyuck mimics his throat being slit and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard. He loves to mess with her.
“You are the worst. Way to look out for your people, your highness.” She begins to unwrap the cupcake, taking a sniff out of precaution.
“‘Your Highness’? Aw, Princess, don’t be like that.” He moves closer to her and she shifts back, tutting.
“Nope. As a baker under your kingdom, I will gladly sacrifice myself by eating this cupcake. Alone.” She dramatically curtsies before going in for a hesitant bite.
Donghyuck swiftly beats her to it and takes a large bite out of the other end as her lips touch the cupcake. Her eyes widen in shock and he sends her a wink before brushing the crumbs off his mouth.
“Now you can’t tell me I don’t care about my people,” He says while chewing the weird texture of his creation. Donghyuck smirks at the deer-in-headlights reaction she has on her face. 
She gulps, shaking her head so that her hair hides her blush. She sets the cupcake down, not wanting a reminder of how close his face just was.
“Well, it’s edible,” She jokes. Donghyuck’s tongue prods the inside of his mouth as he takes in what was supposedly a compliment.
“Says the one who took the smallest bite known to man,” He accuses, pointing at the cupcake.
“How was I supposed to take a bigger one when you practically shoved your face into it and devoured half?” Once again, she’s reminded of what just transpired and feels her cheeks growing warm.
“Ooo, did I make you flustered? Scared your lips were about to touch mine?” Donghyuck takes a step closer and brushes a nonexistent crumb off her lip with his thumb. He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart pounding like fireworks.
Like she can sense his fake confidence, she grabs his wrist. “Is that what you were thinking about when you took a bite? Kissing me?” She tilts her head to the side and his whole body buzzes.
Before he could crumble even further, he tears his hand out of hers. “Please. Like I’d let anyone touch these royal lips.” He turns around to calm himself down and pretends to busy himself with something on the fridge.
He hears her laugh behind him. “I bet they’re not as sweet as a baker’s.”
He turns around and narrows his eyes at her. “How did this grand opening celebration turn into you messing with me?” Accepting defeat, he resorts to fake anger and his signature pout.
“You started it,” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways…”
With the softest smile, she says, “Thank you, Hyuck. I really appreciate you.”
He returns it, “Always.”
The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playful bickering as the two avoid finishing the mysteriously textured cupcake. Donghyuck makes multiple attempts to pit the blame on her as the teacher, and the soon-to-be bakery owner fails to leave and sleep early at the expense of the Prince’s whines. To be honest, the lack of sleep was worth it if she got to spend more time with him.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Now that the bakery is well past its grand opening and flourishing greatly, I’ve gotten my days back. My employees are well-trained and seasoned and I feel comfortable taking days off when I need to. Oddly, my new opened-up schedule was somehow sensed by Donghyuck and I was invited to the palace during the daytime for the first time ever. I was nervous at first to be sneaking in in broad daylight, but he assured me that if I followed the steps he gave me exactly, I’d be fine – not that reassuring. 
As written in his note, I greeted Yunseo, the guard, as usual, and he gave me weird looks, going back and forth between the sun and my face.
“You know the sun is out, right?” He asked, still looking at me funny.
I gave him the most incredulous look. “You’re joking? It’s not nighttime?” I made an effort to crazily look around and he sighed.
“Alright, alright, I get it,” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d switch things up,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal who I was meeting.
Yunseo nodded, “Fair… okay, be careful, okay? The palace feels a little frantic today.” With that, he opened the gates for me and I gave him a smile.
“You’re the best. Make sure to stop by sometime this week, I have pastries for you.” I waved goodbye as he promised to come. 
Following Donghyuck’s poorly drawn-out map, I realized our meeting point isn’t the kitchen and that he’s taking me on an obscure path that the Queen and King definitely are not aware exists. As I walk through centuries-old, dimly lit stone walls, I think about how many times Donghyuck has used these secret passageways and if little Donghyuck used these when he snuck out to see me, 15 years ago. I can imagine 7-year-old Donghyuck discovering these routes within the castle’s walls.
“Stop right there!” A voice echoes through the abandoned hallway.
My heart spazzes and as loud as my brain is yelling at me to run, my feet don’t budge. I curse under my breath and crumple Donghyuck’s map in my hands, remembering to kill him unless I die right here. And if I do happen to die here, then I have to make sure I return as a ghost, haunting that man for life. I turn around slowly, eyes half closed, to see who’s behind me, but there’s no one there. There’s no one in the passageway at all. I whip around a few more times to confirm and I notice a crack in the wall to my right. It’s a peephole overlooking the actual palace hallways.
Out of curiosity, I look through and I see the Queen, face as red as the beautiful gown she adorns.
“Prince Lee Donghyuck,” his name is spat out like bile. “You will follow my orders.”
Coming into view, I see Donghyuck. He and the Queen are in the middle of a heated argument. His head is hung low and I can see him playing with his sleeves like he does when he gets anxious. I wish to reach for him, but then I remember the wall separating us.
“Your majesty, I… I can’t. I don’t want to,” He hiccups, and if I can’t see the tears on his face, I can hear them. “I never did.”
The space in my chest feels as tight and narrow as the walkway I’m in and I want to look away, but I can’t.
“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are the Prince and you are expected to marry a Princess. How dare you fool me for all these years?” As the Queen, she still carries her natural elegance, but her words burn like acid. She’s speaking to him at a normal volume, but her tone pierces your ears. 
“I-I didn’t mean to fool you. I tried my best, but I don’t love them. I don’t love the suitresses you send. And I need you to understand that I never will.” Donghyuck finally looks up and I can see the desperation in his eyes from where I stand. 
“Love?,” The Queen laughs bitterly. “I don’t need you to love them. You just need to marry one. As the Prince, what makes you think you have the privilege of being in love? Not when you have a country to rule.” There’s less anger in her words and more disappointment. 
Donghyuck winces, looking like he’s fighting back what he wants to say. His bottom lip is trembling and the grip he has on his sleeves is tight. His whole body practically shakes. Eventually, he lets go.
“If I’m not meant to love someone, then explain to me why I already do. Explain to me why I love her? Explain to me why I can’t have her?!” 
Tears are rolling down his cheeks like heavy rainfall. “I never asked for this!” He screams, and I wonder to which he’s referring to. 
My body is sweaty like I ran a mile and I feel like my breathing can be heard through the wall. He never mentions my name, but I know, I can feel, that he’s talking about me. My whole body is buzzing and I don’t know whether to feel ecstatic or sad. Despite my confusion, one feeling is clear: fear. Before I can hear what the Queen has to say, I run. 
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“Oh God. Sorry, I was supposed to get here before you. I was supposed to be part of the surprise,” He smiles meekly, praying the puffiness from crying doesn’t make him look strange. He accidentally sniffles and hopes she blames it on the flowers and his chronic allergies.
She’s sitting in the garden chair next to the tea table Donghyuck had set up an hour ago. He scoped out a secluded spot in the royal garden and slowly put everything together. He moves to sit down across from her and she’s staring intently at the cup in front of her. 
“I asked Gran what your favorite tea is and brewed some for us. I know I don’t have your baking skills, but if we get hungry, we can sneak back to the kitchen,” he playfully winks, trying to hide the fact that he was in the worst state five minutes ago. Although he can’t bake, he can definitely make a good batch of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold. 
He waits for a response, but she’s still frozen, chewing the inside of her cheek. Maybe he’s still on edge from his argument with the Queen, but she doesn’t look happy. This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting.
“Do you wanna try the tea? I bet it’ll amaze you so much, you’ll beg me for the recipe,” he teases. The teapot hovers over her cup, but she makes no move to accept it.
“Okay, no tea. That’s fine,” Donghyuck chooses to laugh it off. “Do you wanna walk around? Most of the garden is secluded so we don’t have to worry about someone catching us.”
“Would that be so bad?” The first words she whispers strike him with confusion. Her voice is dry like she just strained it.
“Huh?” He tilts his head, scooting his chair in closer to hear her.
“Would that be so bad?” She says, unable to bate her anger. “Being caught with me? Would his royal highness hate being found walking with me?”
“Hey,” Donghyuck grabs her hand from her lap, interlocking his fingers. “What’s going on?” She tears her hand out from his hold like it stung and he feels like he’s making mistake after mistake.
“I-I’m sorry, is this too much? I wanted to do something nice for our first date outside of the kitchen. Was this a mistake?” He starts to stack the plates, quickly discarding his work. “I usually don’t plan these myself, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I-”
Donghyuck sees her wince in his peripheral and feels her hand on his wrist as he’s about to haphazardly dump the tea in the bushes. Her hands are cold today.
“Date?” The word leaves her mouth as if it made her sick.
The alarms go off in Donghyuck’s mind. “Date? Did I say date? Sorry, I actually mean-”
“Donghyuck,” she cuts him off. He can see her harshly swallow. “Why are you doing this?”
He blinks. “I… I wanted to do something nice for us. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Donghyuck can feel himself beginning to ramble.
“No. Why have you been hanging out with me? If it’s because you feel guilty about ditching me all those years ago, forget about it. I don’t care anymore.” She looks at him with so much intensity, not only trying to convince him, but convince herself that none of this matters.
“Princess, please. No, it’s not out of pity. You know that.” He shakes his head almost violently, begging her to believe his honest intentions. He was shocked he had to convince her in the first place, always assuming she knew his heart better than him.
Completely ignoring him, she continues, “And why aren’t you married yet?”
“W-what?” Similar to whiplash, Donghyuck feels like his brain has just been jostled. Are his ears tricking him and forcing him to relive the traumatic conversation he just had with his mother? Why is this topic being brought up?
“You’re the Prince,” she says like it’s an unwavering fact. “You’re meeting with princesses weekly. You’re meant to rule side by side as King and Queen. Why… why aren’t you married yet?” She asks and her eyes are ice cold like her hands. 
She too closely resembles the older woman who was just yelling at him moments ago. The casing around his heart begins to harden and the feeling he gets from the girl in front of him is now anger. The same bitter taste returns in his mouth.
“Are you serious?” He looks at her and the Donghyuck she knows has washed away. Betrayal, rage, and sorrow are painted across his face. It was like she was looking through the peephole again.
“Don’t ask stupid questions you know the answers to,” he mutters, words barely making it past his tight lips. He’s breathing much harder than before.
“Answer me. Why. Aren’t. You. Married.” Her hands are gripping the edge of her knees to stop them from shaking. 
Donghyuck stares at her for a long time, eyes flittering over every facial feature, confirming that she actually wants to hear the answer. Her face is firm and her question is set. He takes a deep, pained breath and leans back slightly.
“It’s because I love you.” Not like the confession he imagined in his head, Donghyuck reveals his long-term feelings like this was their end and not their new beginning. The period at the end of a sentence. The last page of a hardcover book. The last second on a timer.
She simply nods, stiff in the neck. She excuses herself before standing up, bowing, and walking away.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“That’ll be $6.06. Would you like your receipt?”
The cash register dings with another purchase and I slump back in my chair as the customer leaves. It was a slow and agonizing shift with only two more hours till closing. It’s also been a slow and agonizing two weeks. 
I’m haunted by what went down at the royal garden almost every hour of the day. At first, I was using every chance I could get to skip work and wallow at home. But suddenly the plants in my room reminded me of him and the teacups in my cabinets smelled like the tea he prepared for us. So for the second week, I decided to dedicate myself to work. I’ve been coming in every single day and overworking myself to the point where my employees don’t know what to do but stand around. I debate whether or not to let them leave early when a familiar head of brown hair walks in. My heart picks up its pace and it’s like the teacups all over again.
“Donghyu- oh. Hi, welcome!” I smile wide, trying to hide the previous disappointment drawn on my face. The customer gives me an awkward smile back and begins browsing the pastry racks as I mentally slap myself.
I slump down to the floor behind the counter and silently groan in my hands. Why does every male brunette customer these past two weeks remind me of him? And why are there so many of them? Like every other time I’ve confused a customer with Donghyuck, the guilt begins to creep back into my system and I get flashbacks of our last conversation. 
“Why aren’t you married?,” I mock my own voice. “Are you stupid?” I repeatedly hit my palms against my head when I hear a ding from the counter bell. I quickly shoot up and brush the bangs out of my face, hoping the customer thinks I’m at least slightly normal.
“Hi, how can I hel- Grandma!” On instinct, I glance behind her, foolishly hoping he’s hiding behind her tiny frame, and my shoulders slump when I’m met with no one. So now I’m really imagining him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, composing myself.
“Just checking in on you. I notice you haven’t been coming to the kitchen because when I come in in the mornings, my counter is actually clean,” she jokes. I smile sheepishly and nervously adjust the apron string around my neck. 
“Sorry, it’s usually Donghyuck’s fault,” I quickly clear my throat, answering a little too fast. “The Prince, I mean.”
Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of his name and she looks down at her feet, suddenly fidgety. I notice her change in demeanor instantly. 
“Speaking of him…”
“We don’t need to,” I cut her off. “Speak about him, I mean.” I wince at how suspicious my words sound.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just curious… if anything happened between you two.” She whispers the last part, looking back at the customer to make sure he can’t hear. She clears her throat and steps behind the counter with me, naturally rearranging the bread in the display case. She busies herself while encouraging me to speak.
I gnaw on my lip, tapping the counter, debating if I should finally talk it out with someone. I’ve only been talking to my employees about bread starters and yeast.
“We fought.” I admit.
“About?” Grandma loads the case with more bread. I start passing them to her one by one. 
“He told me… he told me he loved me.” I press my lips together and I hear her head hit the top of the display case and the bread hit the floor. “Grandma! Are you okay?”
I crouch down, grabbing the top of her head to inspect, and she’s giving me the most incredulous look.
“He told you he loved you?!” She squealed at an embarrassingly non-discrete volume, making the customer drop the pastry in his hands. He’s looking around, frazzled, and I can see him debate whether or not he should pick it back up.
“Don’t worry about it! I’ll clean it up!” I screamed from behind the counter. 
“Grandma, keep it down,” I curse through my teeth.
She’s rubbing her head and shaking it in either pain or confusion.
“I know, I know. A Prince saying he’s in love with the baker’s granddaughter is farfetched and unrealistic. I get it.” It’s what has been circling through my brain every day.
“That’s not what I’m confused about, dear.” She looks like she’s debating what to say next. “Did you not hear?”
“Hear what?” At the end of my question, and like a universal sign, the door jingles and the mailman is rushing in, hair swept back by the wind. 
“Sorry! I forgot to drop this off this morning. It’s urgent mail.” He salutes and is out the door as quickly as he enters. 
On the counter is a letter with the royal stamp. My stomach feels queasy assuming this is the first contact I’ve had from Donghyuck since our fight, but I can’t help the naive smile that breaks out on my face. I rush to open it, not worrying about the papercuts. Every doubt that was just in my head disappeared and my grandma interjects, hoping to bring me back down from my high.
“Sweetie, wait. I need to tell you that-”
To the owner of Princess Bakery,
Prince Lee Donghyuck will be celebrating his union with Princess Nam Soohae on 26 May, 2023 at the royal garden grounds. The royal family requests a wedding cake to be made with your expertise and culinary skills. 
Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.
Signed,
The Lees
The words on the page silenced me and my thoughts, my breaths barely leaving my lips. My eyes kept darting across the paper; the calligraphed words are being repeated over and over again in my brain. 
Prince Lee Donghyuck.
His union.
Wedding cake.
Realization finally dawns that this isn’t the love letter or apology I was expecting from Prince Donghyuck. A breath finally escapes and it’s shaky as it wavers in the air like an offkey music note. A heart-stopping pain envelopes my chest and it seizes up to my eyes. The whites of the paper burn my irises. I catch a teardrop splattering onto the parchment. I’m haunted with images of Donghyuck at the altar with someone else. And then I’m thinking about the garden. And us. 
Surprise.
Our first date.
Because I love you.
Because he loves me? Because Prince Lee Donghyuck loves me? Prince Lee Donghyuck who is getting married to an actual princess in a week? Suddenly, it feels like the floor’s unsteady and the oven temperature was turned up to the highest. The letter wrinkles between my fingers and the ink smudges with salty tears. 
This is what I was afraid of. And yet this is what I set myself up for. I knew I should have stopped seeing him. I knew it the moment mango tarts began to remind me of him. The moment my secret ingredient of love found in every bake was powered by him and his place in my heart. Even though I meant to stop this from happening during our talk in the royal garden, that small teaspoon of hope was still sprinkled in my mind. That hope stayed every time I saw a plant, a teacup, or a brunette. But now it’s dissolved.
A new feeling washes over me. One that I haven’t felt once these past two weeks. Not false hope. Not heartbreak. And not regret.
Anger. 
“Don’t blame him.” 
My grandma’s words slice through the red and her hands on my arms attempt to calm me down. I look up through wet lashes, lips trembling.
“Donghyuck… Prince Donghyuck had no say. The royals… they never do.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be my grandma?” I clench my jaw to stop the shaking, slightly regretting my bitter words. 
Her grip is softer. “Oh honey, I am. And that’s why I’m telling you not to waste this energy on being mad at him. What you guys share is beautiful, don’t let this taint it.” She takes the letter out of my hands and physically turns me to face her.
“Shared,” I corrected her.
“Share,” She corrects me. “Your love for each other is seen by everyone. I know it can’t flourish the way love is supposed to, but at least cherish it for what it was.”
Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration. 
“I was really hoping this time it works out…” She voices my thoughts.
At this point, I’m hiccupping between breaths, caught between reliving the past and hearing these explanations. The world was never meant to have us together it seems. But at least I was told this time we had an ending.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The next royal letter came two days after the first, and I was called to spend a week in the royal palace to test out different wedding cakes. I essentially had no choice but to say yes as the royal chauffeurs picked me up every morning to take me there. It felt like those sunrises with my grandma when I was seven but the butterflies in my stomach turned into bees. Unlike the past, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Prince Donghyuck, but with him having requested I make his cake, I’m sure he knows I’m here.
My grandma designated a portion of the kitchen to me as the head baker and it mimicked the old days as much as it could. That was until I got a visitor on the second day.
“Good morning! I’m Princess Nam Soohae.”
My eyes widened and my whisk fell out of my grasp as I took in her presence. She’s beautiful. She’s an actual princess. Her bright, toothy smile would’ve made anyone smitten if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to marry the man I loved. The pretty pink dress she wore was tinted green through my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remind myself of my place. 
“Good morning,” I bowed. “I’m the baker in charge of your wedding cake.” My smile faltered only slightly with the mention of the union.
She giggles and I almost want to laugh with her. “I know that, silly. I was sent by the Queen to sample some. Or should I say my future mother-in-law.” She bites her perfectly manicured nail with excitement.
Soohae leans her hands on the counter and peers at the bowl in my hand.
“Is there any to try right now?” Her head surveys the kitchen like a kid looking for cookies. It’s genuinely hard to dislike her.
“Um, I have a few cakes placed to the side to cool right now. There’s no frosting on it yet, but I’m sure it’d be good to try the base first!” I move to grab one of the trays and she flutters to follow me.
“Ooooh!” She gushes. “I’m so excited to try it. My own wedding cake, can you believe it?”
“No.” I almost drop the cake. “I mean, yes? Sorry. Getting married to the one you love is… it’s a crazy thing.” I cut a piece of cake and place it on a plate for her.
She doesn’t hesitate to take a bite and as she chews, she thinks. 
“I don’t love him yet, to be honest. This cake is really good, by the way.” I start cutting a slice from the other cake to sample. “But I know I will love him eventually. I already get butterflies when I look at him. I trust that he’s the one for me, I mean have you seen him?”
Before I can agree, and thank god she doesn’t give me a second to, she continues, “I know it’s silly for a person in my position to believe in the one. But I really, really do think it could be him. The other day he brought me my favorite flowers, like how did he know?!” She pops a bite of the other cake in and her eyes light up.
“Oh this is the one! Don’t even think about giving me another,” The Princess reaches for another bite and applauds me.
I laugh and make sure to note to go with the lemon base and not the mango one. As my hands are about to toss the mango cake away, my mind stops me and I consider whether Donghyuck would prefer this instead. The clanking of the Princess’s fork on the plate, finishing the lemon cake slice till it’s crumbs, reels me back and I let the cake fall into the garbage. It feels eerily like a metaphor.
For the rest of the week, Princess Soohae visits me and taste tests the frosting, fondant, and other things she wants. With every passing day, I hear more about Haechan and I can feel that her words have turned fonder. Coincidentally, her sweet tooth has gotten worse and the final components of the wedding cake are a complete sugar bomb like her personality.
On my final day, the Queen joins her. The last time I saw her majesty, she was berating the Prince as I secretly watched. It felt like I was in that hidden passageway again as she watches me prepare a slice of the wedding cake for her. My hands shake, placing the plate down in front of her and her gaze is sharp. It’s interesting how harsh her energy is when her facial features are as soft as the Prince’s. She looks like she’s been through a lot and I wonder if Donghyuck will experience the same thing when he fulfills his role as King. Like she can tell I’m thinking about him, The Queen’s eyes narrow. 
“I hope you enjoy,” I bow, and she doesn’t say a word. Princess Soohae on the other hand is completely bubbling over how good it turned out and how her guests are sure to love it too. 
The Queen simply nibbles on a piece and nods along. The black and white vibes almost give me whiplash as I stand there, watching the two of them. A sweat forms on my hairline and I’m internally glad this is my last day. I can’t go through this any longer. 
And like a karmic jinx, the kitchen door opens and a familiar brunette walks in. This time, it is him.
“Oh my! Prince Donghyuck!” Princess Soohae scrambles off her chair and bows both gracefully and clumsily. I bow as well, trying hard to hide the immediate blush on my face I get whenever I see him. I wonder if I can stay bowing so I don’t have to meet his face. The last time we saw each other was when we talked at the royal garden, and as much as I prayed I wouldn’t run into him here, truthfully, a part of me also hoped I would.
As soon as I force myself to stand up straight, we lock eyes and the strain in my chest loosens like a snapped thread. I can feel my lungs fill with air and it’s relieving to see him again after so long. It hurts in the best way as I’m overwhelmed by his presence. That familiar brown waved hair, the sunkissed tan skin, and the plump smiley cheeks. Everything is how I left it but his expression is not one I expected. He’s in complete shock and I don’t know what to do but look around the room to find something that would cause such surprise. I quickly glance at the Queen, and for the first time since she sat down, there’s a small lift in the corner of her mouth. Is she smirking?
“Princess?” He tilts his head, still staring at me before he realizes what he just called me. “Princess! Princess Soohae! I came to get you.” He runs over to grab her hand and the lifted cheekbones on her face tells me she’s grinning. 
“What- uh- what’s going on?” I’m fixated on the way he fiddles with her hand as he looks around the room for answers. 
“Cake testing? How did you forget, silly?” Princess Soohae laughs as she playfully pats his cheeks. Everyone in the room can tell she’s head over heels and my stomach hurts. As I’m clutching my stomach and the Prince stares at me quizzically, there’s one person in the room watching all of this go down.
“She’s the wedding cake baker we outsourced, Prince Donghyuck.” The Queen says calmly, gesturing to me. She tells him like it’s his first time hearing this and I’m taken aback, my movements making the utensils on the table quiver slightly.
“He didn’t know?” My mouth was too quick to voice my thoughts. “His highness, I mean.” I bow in apology.
“No. No, I didn’t.” His hands are at his side now, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. The shock left his face and now he’s staring at me with pity and then silent anger when his head turns towards the Queen. My eyes follow his and she returns his look as if to challenge him to say more. 
Completely obvious to the shift in atmosphere, Princess Soohae raves about the final wedding cake decisions and begs the Prince to try a bite. He turns her down without sparing a glance and asks her to leave with him. He doesn’t give me a second thought as he breaks eye contact with the Queen and drags his future wife away. There’s no stopping the ache that fills my chest again, slow but strong like the rising tide.
“So he still likes you.”
Snapped out of my haze, my ears don’t believe the words I hear coming from the Queen’s lips.
“Pardon?” She’s looking at me now and it’s a mixture of disappointment and disinterest etched on her face. The warmth on her face has depleted. 
“My son. Prince Donghyuck. He still likes you,” she laughs dryly. “After all these years…” 
My eyebrows furrow and I feel myself getting dizzy. Maybe this is all some sort of hallucination and the Queen isn’t talking to me right now. I grip the counter for support, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond.
“You know, I thought I handled the issue 15 years ago when I asked the head baker to stop bringing you here. I was stupid to think it would be that easy when he purposely sabotaged every date I set up for him the years after.”
She’s twirling the fork on the plate now and the scrapes make me flinch. The kitchen no longer feels like a safe space for me right now as her words slowly suffocate me. 
“And when he started to actually go on these dates this year and report back to me that they’re going well? I was foolish to think it was him beginning to try. I saw you one day, back in this kitchen. Back in his life. It all made sense and it made me so angry.” Her hands grip the fork handle. They’re dainty, but if you look close, they’re calloused, indicating years of work. Her face appears the same. If it weren’t for the terrifying state I was in, I would’ve wanted to comfort her. She looks up at me, and I felt tinier than I did before, her eyes piercing into me. 
“Do you not understand the life I’m trying to set up for Donghyuck? He’s the future king. He needs a queen, a real queen to survive in this world. As the queen, I know firsthand what he needs. My king wouldn’t be anywhere without me and his mother who set me up with him. You’re not fit for this role and you never will be.” She finally sets the fork down with a clatter. 
“Listen to me, and let him go. It’s what’s best.” Her threatening nature fades as quickly as it came and she gracefully stands up, brushing the nonexistent debris on her gown. The Queen gives me one final look, waiting for me to bow and essentially agree, before leaving the kitchen. 
The air returns and I grasp my chest to let myself breathe. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I choke back sobs.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“Remember, it’s the room on the right hallway. Third door. And if anyone sees you, don’t tell them I sent you. I’ll get in trouble.” My grandma hammers in the details one more time, waiting for me to nod in confirmation.
It’s the end of my final day and she asked me to deliver pastries to a room in the palace before I leave, saying her workload is too large to be going herself. I figured it’s one more thing I could do before I never step foot in the palace again. I almost turned her down earlier in fear of running into the Queen. Just the thought of that happening makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be seeing her again after this anyways.
I scoff, “So you’d rather I get sent to the guillotine?” I tease her with an exaggerated horrified look. 
She easily flicks my forehead, despite our height difference, and I grab it wincing. “You’re lucky I don’t chop off your head myself with that attitude of yours.” She sneers at me and I giggle.
“Fair…,” I playfully mutter, soothing the area between my brows.
Her directions sent me to a room with beautiful brown double doors. I smile at the two ladies standing outside of it and I’m about to explain why I’m here before they cut me off.
“Pastry delivery for the Prince?” They say in unison.
Like a horror movie, my jaw drops and I lose my instinct to run. One thing I do know is to make sure I yell at my grandma later as I nod and tell them they’re correct. She completely set me up.
On another occasion, I would’ve appreciated the doors to Prince Donghyuck’s bedroom more, but right now, they look like the gates of Hell. I attempt to swallow whatever saliva was left in my suddenly dry mouth as I brushed my hair out of my face. The ladies allow me to knock on the door. My palms are sweaty as I shakily knock on the varnished wood, hearing it echo into the space on the other side. His room must be huge.
No responses are heard. This was my out, but my body was telling me not to leave, even though my mind was screaming to run. Instead of knocking again, I turn the knob and almost wish it wasn’t unlocked, but it was.
There he is on the other side, scribbling at his desk. His back is facing me and I watch the muscles in them move with vigor. I haven’t seen him work this hard since he convinced me to teach him how to make a creme brulée and accidentally made scrambled eggs with the yolks.
I shut the door behind me and hope it catches his attention, but it doesn’t. I gulp, realizing how very real this situation is and I almost want to throw up knowing I have to speak.
“Hyuck.”
I hear him inhale and he spins quickly out of his chair to look at me. Different to how it felt seeing him in the kitchen earlier today, his face is softer, accepting my presence. My heart floats in my chest, wondering why I was so nervous to see him when just the sight of him oozes comfort. He looks at me like he’s feeling the same way. I see the longing in his eyes and the way they warm, I close my own to stop myself from giving in too much.
“Princess.”
His voice is fragile and his choice of words makes me shut my eyes harder, scared that I’d lose all my resilience and run straight into his arms. He doesn’t correct himself this time, and he says it again with more confidence.
I finally peel them open and force myself to act cold. Just an hour ago I was finishing his wedding cake; this fire has to be extinguished.
“Princess Soohae will make a great queen.” I move to set the pastry basket down on a table near me.
“It’s not what you think. I was going to-“ He turns around in a frenzy and grabs the paper he was just writing on. The Prince takes a step closer and it takes all my strength to recoil. It takes all of me not to be swayed by the obvious hurt on his face. This will be good for us, I have to remind myself.
My hand is up, drawing the line. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not what I’m here for.”
He hesitantly puts his arm down, eyebrow twitched in confusion. The paper is still in his hands.
“I got you a gift,” I partly smile. “A wedding gift and I guess, also… a goodbye gift.” With that statement, I break away from his stare, fixating on a corner in his grand room. 
I hear paper wrinkling. “A goodbye gift?” His voice gets lower and it causes me to wince. It feels like all the tension in the room gathered in the small vacancy in my chest and the overwhelming pressure makes my eyes sting. I can already feel the tears build up as I play with the hem of my shirt. 
“Mhm,” I painfully affirm. “The wedding cake. It’s both my gift and my goodbye. I thought you requested it when I first got the royal letter,” I laugh at the situation, trying to stop myself from letting him see me cry.
“Turns out it wasn’t you, but regardless. You’re getting married and I can’t be here anymore. So I left it in the kitchen. Obviously, it’s not a goodbye-goodbye, since I’ll still be living here in the city, but… No. Yeah, it’s a goodbye,” I nod to myself, trying to unravel the knot in my throat. “I guess you took my advice, huh? Congratulations, your highness.”
The silence from him is thick and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. It calls me to look up at him, and his eyes are icy cold. The sweet honey brown is as dark as coal.
“This is your response?” His words are robotic, I can feel the venom on his tongue as it pricks at my heart.
“S-sorry?” I tilt my head, not understanding him. It felt terrifying to make him repeat himself in the state he’s in.
“I told you I loved you. I’m assuming this is your response.” My eyes flicker to the paper in his fist, no longer readable. Neither is his face as he gives me the blankest look. It makes me want to cry more knowing this is how I will remember our last moments.
This time, I do take a step towards him but he’s shaking his head aggressively, lower back pressed against the edge of his desk. Now I know how he felt.
“If you want to hear me say ‘I love you’, you know I can’t do that.” Just having those three words leave my lips causes a tear to roll down my cheek. 
“Because I’m the Prince?” This time, his expression changes to match mine. I can feel the frustration and pain radiating off of him, and all I want to do is to tell him what he needs to hear. But I just nod, forcing a distance.
“So it always mattered. What if… what if it was 7-year-old Donghyuck asking his princess? What would you have said? You didn’t know who I was back then. I was just… just Donghyuck.” He sighs, his body is limp as he settles onto his desk. I notice his frail build, worried that he’s been eating less.
I smile, fondly remembering the ignorant bliss from 15 years ago. But then I’m forced to remember our situation now, our ugly situation where our hearts are demanded to stay silent. 
“I would’ve told him I loved him too.”
And with that, all strength is gone as I sob into my palm. I’m trying to force the wails in, but my body is shaking. My legs feel weak and he’s over here and his arms are wrapped tightly around me in a second. I can feel his heart beating against my arm trapped between our bodies and his breath shakily blowing on the top of my head. One hand is holding me tight and the other is brushing through my hair as he shushes me. 
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He repeats. A part of me thinks this is to calm himself down too. 
I know I’m right when I slowly pull myself back and see the red in his eyes and on the tip of his nose. My hand flinches as I’m about to caress his cheek. His breath is steadier as it now fans across my face and his eyes are lidded like they’ve finally got some rest. My hesitation vanishes as I let myself cup his face, trace the constellation painted on his cheek, and feel the sweetness of his lips on mine. The warm sensation that envelops my body makes me gasp and Donghyuck tightens his embrace on me, refusing to let go. He tasted better than every sweet treat I’ve had combined. He was intoxicating and my whole body buzzed like a sugar rush. 
I close my eyes tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips, wanting to remember every trace — letting myself be selfish this last time. He’s sugary, cozy, and soothing like the afternoon sun on my back. His mouth moves with such ease against mine and it feels like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. The feeling of his tongue gently nudging my bottom lip jolts me back to reality and I push away, seized by the cold air of his big room again. 
I bring my hands to my face, hoping to cool down the flush. The Prince is breathing as heavily and in sync with me, and all I can hear is our matching breaths and the ringing in my ears. I have to end it here. 
“Um. Congratulations on your wedding,” I say in one breath. I don’t dare look at him as I quickly bow, scrambling to his door. 
“Princess! Wait,” He grabs my wrist, almost too tight. “I can’t go through with this. Please, I-I only want to marry you.”
“Your highness…”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Say my name, please. Call me Hyuck. Call me Donghyuck. Anything but that. Just don’t-“ His teeth are chattering and he blinks away the tears. “Don’t leave me again.”
Without a second thought, I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ Even with tears blurring my vision, I can see the hurt on his face and I feel a part of my heart rot. It pains me just as much to reject him, but the Queen’s words swirl around in my head, unrelentless. I’m forced to leave him and my heart here and I want to scream, but I can’t. He notices that. It reminds him of himself.
Letting the finality of my decision settle in, he lets go of me, taking in a shaky breath. This was our end.
I restrain myself from taking any steps towards him as I reach for the door behind me. The wooden panel swings open, gliding past my extended fingers as I’m met with the face of the Queen.
That same hand shoots up to touch my lips, remembering what just happened in here and I bow till my hair grazes the tiled floors. 
“Your Majesty,” I squeak. She looks at me with a million emotions and plants her glare at the Prince. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, her face twists into anger, dissecting the situation. I take this as my cue to leave but the Queen shuts the door behind the both of us. I don’t hear the Prince make any moves to save me.
“What were you doing in there?” She angrily whispers between clenched teeth. Not sure what comes over me, but the fear I felt before is gone. Instead, I’m left feeling numb.
“Don’t worry. I was just saying goodbye.” I swallow, bracing myself for her reprimands. 
A beat passes, before she speaks, this time in a normal tone. “Are you done?” 
I nod, “Yes, and I’d like to be excused from attending the wedding to serve the cake.” The Queen’s eyebrows quirk up, shocked that I’ve made a request. I look her straight in the eyes so she knows I mean it.
“I can’t… I can’t be there for that. I believe I’ve done all the preparation I can and I am not needed to actually attend.” My confidence waivers, and I draw my attention back to the ground.
“Fair enough. You don’t have to attend. I’ll tell the other bakers to serve it.” I take my chance to meet her eyes again and I can almost see concern on her face. I shake my head of that ridiculous thought, and offer her my best smile.
“Thank you, your majesty.” I bow before dragging my feet off the palace grounds. Hoping to never set foot in here ever again.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Bells. I plan to remove all bells from my bakery. The royal wedding bells have been ringing all morning and I don’t need any more reminders moving forward. 
I spent the whole night crying after leaving the palace and then my anxiety kicked in, trying to get me to map out my life without him. Naturally, I planned to pour myself into work and here I am, out of bed, manning the shop by myself on his wedding day. I may have cried into a batch of dough in the morning, but baby steps are important. This is only day one anyways.
I realized I made a mistake leaving the house when I overheard everyone in town talk about the wedding of the century. I even let my employees off for the day, mainly to have my space to wallow alone. Practically everyone was outside the palace gates, waiting to get a glimpse of the couple. The streets were currently empty and I wonder if I should just close up shop. 
Right when I was about to count up the cash and close out the register, the bell on the door jingles. I’m halfway into the one dollar bills when I roll my eyes at the sound, pressing my lips together to stop a groan. I make a mental note to remove the bell before I leave.
I look up to check on the customer and I see a man with, of course, brown hair surveying the bread on the back wall. All I can see is the back of his head as he peruses. I scoff to myself at the instant fluttering of my chest at yet another brunette customer. Is no one blond anymore? Are gingers that rare for me to never encounter one in my bakery?
I finish counting the ones and I move onto the fives when I realize he’s still standing in the same spot. I’m organizing the bills in my hands as I examine him. Normal guy. Black hoodie. Jeans. 
Maybe he’s just really indecisive. I can see him tapping his foot from the counter. I decide to offer help after I finish counting the five dollar bills.
With the last dollar to count, I place it in the tray and slowly walk over to the man. As I get closer, my stranger danger instincts kick in and I suddenly regret my decision. His foot is still shaking and from this close, I can see him fidgeting with his sleeves in front of him. I grab a pair of tongs from the closest case and approach him.
“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you find something?” I have the tongs gripped with both hands, discreetly but ready to swing. 
I see his body tense and my breath hitches, thinking I’m really going to have to hit this man with my makeshift weapon.
He turns around painstakingly slow and I raise the tongs instinctively to block my face, before letting out a squeal.
But then I see his face. And different bells go off.
“Oh my god. Hyuck?”
The bags under his eyes are prominent and I finally notice the way his hair has been pulled in different directions. His lips are dry as he cracks a sheepish smile. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and notices the kitchen utensil in my hands.
“Were you gonna hit me?!” His mouth is open in surprise and he’s taking the tongs from my hands. I let him and put my hands up in defense.
“You were standing there for so long, all fidgety! I’m alone in here, what was I supposed to think?” I fight back, taking the tongs back and clutching it close to my chest.
He lets out a long sigh, seemingly frustrated with himself as he runs his hands through his hair. I hate that I find it attractive.
“Wait.” He looks up at me through his lashes, swallowing. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He blinks, knowing that question was coming. 
I expected to feel sick awaiting his answer, but instead my heart is racing, anticipating his next words. I almost feel that false hope I felt a week ago, and I try hard to deny it. But the way he’s looking at me leaves me with no doubts. 
I’m about to push him out the door when he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. The wrinkled piece of paper from yesterday. He plays with it in his hands as he thinks about his next move.
“I was drafting a request to get the law changed.”
His words peak my interest. I set the tongs down and let him continue. Wrapping my arms around my waist for security, I’m fearful of what he has to say next.
“I’ve actually been working on it for the past two months.” He flattens the paper out in his hands. “You caught me finishing the final draft yesterday. I didn’t expect it to take up until my wedding day…” He laughs, unhumored by the situation. 
He hands it to me. “This is an old copy now, but it’s actually already being reviewed by the King. Right now. Being who I am, I fled just in case.” 
He looks at me anxiously as I read the top of the page, the words in bold:
Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance 
Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck
My eyes don’t believe what’s written, like the royal letter I received not too long ago, requesting I bake the royal wedding cake. The same royal stamp and all rests in the top left corner. 
This time, I can read the words clearly. They settle into my chest, leaving me with such a funny feeling. I read the text and I can tell it’s written by him. I imagine him staying up every night after we meet in the kitchen, working by himself on this proposal. All of his hard work for the past couple months was printed on this very paper. All this work… for us. 
I feel my cheeks wet from pure joy and I cover the smile straining my mouth. A rush unfurls through my body like sweet, sweet sugar and I look up to share it with him. 
“Donghyuck… You-?”
“Marry me.” 
He gets down on one knee, holding my free hand. He’s rubbing that one spot on my ring finger and it feels unreal. The gleam in his eyes reminds me of the toasty fires in the oven, the glistening mangos on his favorite tart. His smile matches mine, nervous just slightly, and I want to paint this memory in my brain forever. The love and desperation in his eyes are begging me to think of him. Think of us. Every fear that had been eating away at me the past month was overcome by his pleas. This paper and his actions are proof that we can happen.
He continues, 
“Princess, please marry me. I’ve only wanted to marry you almost my entire life. I know that sounds crazy, but how can I doubt my obvious soulmate? You always come back to me, but I still don’t want another reason for you to have to leave. So please, trust me and trust us. Forget everything and everyone else and say you’ll marry me. If this petition doesn’t pass, I’ll continue to fight. Just…
Say you’ll be my princess forever.”
I tug his hand softly to get him to stand up. He obliges and I free my hands to hold his face. He finally breathes and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I can feel him relax and his hands rest on my hips, drawn like a magnet. My mind is bouncing back and forth trying to contain the frenzy in my heart and the steady warmth of my core. I tap his eyelid lightly with my thumb and ask him to look at me. He opens them slowly, fear still trickling in his irises. I smile at him.
“My Prince,” His breath hitches. “I love you too.”
Donghyuck wastes no time tucking his head into my neck and lifting me against his body. He spins me around between the cases of bread and I giggle, feeling his heart beat erratically against mine. He softly lets my feet touch the ground and we’re looking at each other again, tears adding sparkles to his eyes. I wipe them away instantly.
“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers, but it feels like he said it with his whole being.
“Always.” I say with just as much commitment.
We’re cherishing the moment together, laughing at how happy we get to be, when the wedding bells go off once more. I look at him with confusion and he shrugs, just as lost.
“I can’t believe my wedding cake is going to waste,” I pout, remembering all my hardwork. And he squeezes my hip at my choice to be silly, snickering.
“I can’t believe you went with a lemon cake. Do you even know me?” He teases, pretending to be hurt. I gasp, slapping his chest.
“I’ll make sure to go with the mango tarts for ours.” I press a soft kiss on his lips and he smiles with me, pulling me unbelievably closer. 
“I like the sound of that,” Donghyuck hums.
“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.
Donghyuck and I stand there in each other’s arms for as long as our legs allow. We talk about the past, how it felt to leave each other. We talk about the garden and I admit to catching him talk to his mom, which explains everything he needs to know. Even as I’m profusely apologizing, he’s doing the same, saying sorry for putting me in such a situation. I choose to ask about Princess Soohae and he bites his lip nervously, telling me he hasn’t handled that predicament yet. I almost drag him out of the bakery at the sound of that. We even go over his repeal proposal and I call him out for some typos.
Eventually we move to the kitchen, doing what we do best, and what we’ve done for years, waiting for someone to find him. The Prince and his Princess.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! pls like, reblog, reply, whatever!! if u want hehe
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