joyoushyuck

[joyoushyuck]

I got A LOT of requests, to all the lovely ppl who sent them to me, thankyou!! I will start writing them soon snd post them in the week after this one!!! Thank youuu

[joyoushyuck]

Do anyone want to read about a particular scenario? Going through a writer's block:( But I wanf to write something fluffy...

Requests are open!

[joyoushyuck]

What would you all say about a Notting Hill themed story, with Haechan as Anna Scott and the reader as Thacker? Obviously, with a lot of modifications but I like the idea.

(tell me you saw notting hill without telling me you saw notting hill)

[joyoushyuck]

This is still my favorite fic that was written by me. It was super self indulgent but also, the writing process was so easy. I didn't have to stop, think, research, or do anything complicated. I sat down to write and the words just flowed haha!

What did you think about this story?

Lee Donghyuck is an opportunist (spoiler: the endearing kind). 

He knows you like a book he's read over and over again a million times, maybe more. He knows you like no one else does. That is mostly a good thing (keyword - mostly). 

Because as much as he never fails to pick the right gift for your birthday and always gets your coffee order right, he is also a manipulative bitch person who takes advantage of this knowledge and exploits you at your weakest.

Like right now when you really want to be mad at him because he hasn't done the dishes or the laundry, but Donghyuck's hand sneaks under your shirt in the midst of your monologue and you just freeze. 

When his breath ghosts your neck, a kiss landing on your nape, you don't even remember what you were on about anymore. Donghyuck loves it when you go pliant under his touch. He loves seeing the crease between your brows disappear, loves feeling your body going lax in his arms, loves the control he has over you. 

He pins you against the nearest horizontal surface (which happens to be the dining table) and pulls you into a (life-altering, mind-blowing, fantastic) kiss, leaving you completely and utterly disoriented. He loves watching your spit slick lips and the fading hickeys on your collarbone, loves undoing the buttons of your tight work blouse that hugs your chest a little too deliciously. 

He is a manipulator and a great one at that, but he also gets your mind off of your big girl duties because oh- he's sucking another bruise at that spot. He knows your body just as much as he knows you; he pushes all the right buttons that'll have you begging him for more, more, more in a matter of minutes.

And even though Lee Donghyuck is a serial exploiter, he is also a dutiful male wife who finishes the dishes and the laundry by the time you wake up from your exhaustion-induced nap. 

After all, he's your favourite wheeler-dealer.

-

Note:

Reblog if you like my fics, it really helps! I especially love reading the tags/comments when y'all reblog.

I don't know what this is. Let's pretend neither of us read it. Probably my most unhinged fic yet (this was for the tags but I reached my maximum tag limit).

Thankyou for the support.

[joyoushyuck]

23:45

Haechan loves touching you.

He traces the swell of every curve and the outline of every bone in your body until he could carve a sculpture of you with his eyes closed.

His lips press feather-light kisses to your collarbone as his finger glides over the shape of your lips. His touch holds so much reverence that you wonder if he’s praying, if the gentle line down your spine is his quiet act of worship.

Sometimes, in the silence between breaths, you almost believe he needs this to survive. That memorizing every dip, wrinkle, and pore of you is essential for his existence.

And maybe it is.

-

notes:

small one but hope you guys enjoyed it! like, reblog, and comment if you liked the story please:)

[joyoushyuck]

23:45

Haechan loves touching you.

He traces the swell of every curve and the outline of every bone in your body until he could carve a sculpture of you with his eyes closed.

His lips press feather-light kisses to your collarbone as his finger glides over the shape of your lips. His touch holds so much reverence that you wonder if he’s praying, if the gentle line down your spine is his quiet act of worship.

Sometimes, in the silence between breaths, you almost believe he needs this to survive. That memorizing every dip, wrinkle, and pore of you is essential for his existence.

And maybe it is.

-

notes:

small one but hope you guys enjoyed it! like, reblog, and comment if you liked the story please:)

[joyoushyuck]

23:45

Haechan loves touching you.

He traces the swell of every curve and the outline of every bone in your body until he could carve a sculpture of you with his eyes closed.

His lips press feather-light kisses to your collarbone as his finger glides over the shape of your lips. His touch holds so much reverence that you wonder if he’s praying, if the gentle line down your spine is his quiet act of worship.

Sometimes, in the silence between breaths, you almost believe he needs this to survive. That memorizing every dip, wrinkle, and pore of you is essential for his existence.

And maybe it is.

-

notes:

small one but hope you guys enjoyed it! like, reblog, and comment if you liked the story please:)

[joyoushyuck]

23:45

Haechan loves touching you.

He traces the swell of every curve and the outline of every bone in your body until he could carve a sculpture of you with his eyes closed.

His lips press feather-light kisses to your collarbone as his finger glides over the shape of your lips. His touch holds so much reverence that you wonder if he’s praying, if the gentle line down your spine is his quiet act of worship.

Sometimes, in the silence between breaths, you almost believe he needs this to survive. That memorizing every dip, wrinkle, and pore of you is essential for his existence.

And maybe it is.

-

notes:

small one but hope you guys enjoyed it! like, reblog, and comment if you liked the story please:)

[joyoushyuck]

(suggestive content)

Jaemin has been trying to get your attention for the past half hour.

You pretend to be engrossed in the book you are reading, pretend not to notice the way his pants are hanging lower than usual on his waist. You pretend as if the sight of his chest (which is shirtless, by the way) doesn't turn make your stomach drop and your thighs clench.

You can sense your normally composed boyfriend growing increasingly impatient, a rare occurrence. You want to drag it out for as long as you can.

But Jaemin seems to have an entirely different plan.

He settles next to you on the couch and leans in as though he wants to read too.

"How's the book so far? Interesting?"

You raise an eyebrow as you are met with an innocent pair of eyes staring back at you.

"It's-" you clear your throat, your voice hoarse from the lack of use. Totally not because of the proximity. No. "It's okay, I guess."

Jaemin hums in reply and you get back to reading your book, but not even a whole minute passes before you feel him pulling the strap of your shirt down with his teeth, and nibble at the exposed skin of your shoulder.

You stifle a gasp.

"Jaemin," your voice is more breathless than you'd like it to be.

He ignores you.

His teeth graze your skin again, more deliberate this time. Your fingers curl tighter around the pages of your book, now completely forgotten, your entire focus narrowing down to the feel of Jaemin's mouth trailing up your shoulder.

Soft, warm, maddening.

“Princess,” you murmur, and it comes out as a warning.

He hums, still not looking at you, still pretending like he’s done nothing wrong. One of his hands find your thigh, fingers light, tracing shapes that make your skin burn.

When he finally glances up at you, there’s a smugness in his gaze.

You snap your book shut.

He freezes.

“I think,” you say, voice syrupy sweet, “you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here.”

He opens his mouth (to argue or to beg, you don’t know) but you don’t give him the chance. You swing your leg over him in a swift movement, straddling his lap, trapping him beneath you. You watch the way his breath catches, his hands going still on your thighs.

Jaemin looks up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, with so much admiration and so much fear and so much desire.

Like your touch is both salvation and punishment.

And you plan on being both.

-

notes:

like, comment and reblog pls. asks are open. you can request fics, or just share your thoughts in general. i'd love to read them! (even if they are just about your day, share them! those are the best kind of asks)

[joyoushyuck]

(humour, fluff)

coworkers to lovers

Summary: In the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

...

08:53

Let's talk about inertia.

On any other day, inertia is just another physics concept that was defined by mad scientists for the sole purpose of ruining your life. The number of times you've lost your footing every time a bus accelerated is pathetic - made worse by the fact that public transport was your primary (and only affordable) mode of commute. Thankyou inflation.

On any other day, the first law of motion is just another major inconvenience in your already majorly inconvenienced life. On any other day, you'd be wasting your twenty seventh fuck on things that are not in your control.

This, however, is not any other day.

Hell no!

It is a very, very, very abnormal day. Not in a bad way - definitely not in a bad way. For once, inertia, and everything else not in your control, are working in your favor. It feels like the universe has finally seen enough of the tragedy that is your life and decided to send you a singular compensatory gesture.

Said compensatory gesture whistles as you fall on him. Again.

"If I were you, I'd take a guy out to dinner before falling all over him."

"Shut up, Haechan!" You roll your eyes. The compensatory gesture is a 5'8 man with gorgeous, gorgeous skin and a siren-like voice.

You know him. He knows you. You are coworkers.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

You also have a crush on him. No big deal. The nickname definitely didn't cause your brain to short circuit. It isn't making your stomach do all sorts of stunts like it's possessed by Bruce Lee's soul. Nope. No.

"What happened to your motorcycle?" You try small talk. Or maybe you are just curious. Public transport isn't really his thing.

"Maintenance," he sighs dramatically. You simply roll your eyes. He is one of those people with an unhealthy obsession with their motorcycles.

You are not one to complain. The sight of Haechan getting off his motorcycles, one hand taking off his helmet as he shakes his head to tame his hair, the other twirling the key in his hand-

Yeah. You wipe the metaphorical drool dripping down your mouth.

A very uncomfortable silence fills the space between you too (uncomfortable only for you, he looks pretty relaxed with the way he's looking around everywhere but you- wait...).

"Uhh..." you say intelligently.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "I am aware I tend to have this effect on women, you know. I tend to leave them speechless~" he sing-songs.

Aforementioned compensatory gesture also happens to be an ass.

You slap his (toned) biceps. He catches your hand. You make eye contact. His smirk drops to give way to something softer. You begin to think you are the protagonist of a kdrama. He parts his lips to say something.

Cue the perfectly timed brake that sends the two of you staggering towards the floor, assissted by the pull of gravity.

Oh.

Gravity.

Another one of Newton's concepts playing cupid today. Two is not a lot but it's weird it happened twice. On the same day.

Haechan falls on his ass, and somewhere during the fall his hands had secured themselves around your waist, so you fall square on his chest. You hear him exhale sharply, but before you can scramble to get up, you meet his eyes again.

And you both are so, so close. His eyes are wide, not a trace of his usual smugness visible on his face. A slight dust of pink decorates his cheek. You feel your own face heating up.

Fuck.

Some passengers help you get back to your feet. When the bus starts again, there's more tension between the two of you than the tension at the top of a vertical string supporting a weight. You clear your throat. Not very helpful.

When you finally arrive at your destination after a stifling 6 minutes and 33 seconds of awkwardness, Haechan slips something into the pocket of your coat before he leaves without another word.

You pull a note from your pocket. It’s his number. Below it, in scrawled handwriting: “Gravity’s a bitch. Call me.”

That's how in the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

(You got married in a public transport themed wedding ceremony 3 years laters.)

-

notes

if you liked the story, please reblog and comment. it motivates me to write more. constructive criticism is welcome:) requests are open.

this was my attempt at writing humour and it had more physics than fluff in it, but more couple centered fics will be released soon. engagements are treasured, but if you are a silent reader reading this, know that i love you.

[joyoushyuck]

(humour, fluff)

coworkers to lovers

Summary: In the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

...

08:53

Let's talk about inertia.

On any other day, inertia is just another physics concept that was defined by mad scientists for the sole purpose of ruining your life. The number of times you've lost your footing every time a bus accelerated is pathetic - made worse by the fact that public transport was your primary (and only affordable) mode of commute. Thankyou inflation.

On any other day, the first law of motion is just another major inconvenience in your already majorly inconvenienced life. On any other day, you'd be wasting your twenty seventh fuck on things that are not in your control.

This, however, is not any other day.

Hell no!

It is a very, very, very abnormal day. Not in a bad way - definitely not in a bad way. For once, inertia, and everything else not in your control, are working in your favor. It feels like the universe has finally seen enough of the tragedy that is your life and decided to send you a singular compensatory gesture.

Said compensatory gesture whistles as you fall on him. Again.

"If I were you, I'd take a guy out to dinner before falling all over him."

"Shut up, Haechan!" You roll your eyes. The compensatory gesture is a 5'8 man with gorgeous, gorgeous skin and a siren-like voice.

You know him. He knows you. You are coworkers.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

You also have a crush on him. No big deal. The nickname definitely didn't cause your brain to short circuit. It isn't making your stomach do all sorts of stunts like it's possessed by Bruce Lee's soul. Nope. No.

"What happened to your motorcycle?" You try small talk. Or maybe you are just curious. Public transport isn't really his thing.

"Maintenance," he sighs dramatically. You simply roll your eyes. He is one of those people with an unhealthy obsession with their motorcycles.

You are not one to complain. The sight of Haechan getting off his motorcycles, one hand taking off his helmet as he shakes his head to tame his hair, the other twirling the key in his hand-

Yeah. You wipe the metaphorical drool dripping down your mouth.

A very uncomfortable silence fills the space between you too (uncomfortable only for you, he looks pretty relaxed with the way he's looking around everywhere but you- wait...).

"Uhh..." you say intelligently.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "I am aware I tend to have this effect on women, you know. I tend to leave them speechless~" he sing-songs.

Aforementioned compensatory gesture also happens to be an ass.

You slap his (toned) biceps. He catches your hand. You make eye contact. His smirk drops to give way to something softer. You begin to think you are the protagonist of a kdrama. He parts his lips to say something.

Cue the perfectly timed brake that sends the two of you staggering towards the floor, assissted by the pull of gravity.

Oh.

Gravity.

Another one of Newton's concepts playing cupid today. Two is not a lot but it's weird it happened twice. On the same day.

Haechan falls on his ass, and somewhere during the fall his hands had secured themselves around your waist, so you fall square on his chest. You hear him exhale sharply, but before you can scramble to get up, you meet his eyes again.

And you both are so, so close. His eyes are wide, not a trace of his usual smugness visible on his face. A slight dust of pink decorates his cheek. You feel your own face heating up.

Fuck.

Some passengers help you get back to your feet. When the bus starts again, there's more tension between the two of you than the tension at the top of a vertical string supporting a weight. You clear your throat. Not very helpful.

When you finally arrive at your destination after a stifling 6 minutes and 33 seconds of awkwardness, Haechan slips something into the pocket of your coat before he leaves without another word.

You pull a note from your pocket. It’s his number. Below it, in scrawled handwriting: “Gravity’s a bitch. Call me.”

That's how in the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

(You got married in a public transport themed wedding ceremony 3 years laters.)

-

notes

if you liked the story, please reblog and comment. it motivates me to write more. constructive criticism is welcome:) requests are open.

this was my attempt at writing humour and it had more physics than fluff in it, but more couple centered fics will be released soon. engagements are treasured, but if you are a silent reader reading this, know that i love you.

[joyoushyuck]

note:

engagements are appreciated:)

(suggestive content)

Jaemin has been trying to get your attention for the past half hour.

You pretend to be engrossed in the book you are reading, pretend not to notice the way his pants are hanging lower than usual on his waist. You pretend as if the sight of his chest (which is shirtless, by the way) doesn't turn make your stomach drop and your thighs clench.

You can sense your normally composed boyfriend growing increasingly impatient, a rare occurrence. You want to drag it out for as long as you can.

But Jaemin seems to have an entirely different plan.

He settles next to you on the couch and leans in as though he wants to read too.

"How's the book so far? Interesting?"

You raise an eyebrow as you are met with an innocent pair of eyes staring back at you.

"It's-" you clear your throat, your voice hoarse from the lack of use. Totally not because of the proximity. No. "It's okay, I guess."

Jaemin hums in reply and you get back to reading your book, but not even a whole minute passes before you feel him pulling the strap of your shirt down with his teeth, and nibble at the exposed skin of your shoulder.

You stifle a gasp.

"Jaemin," your voice is more breathless than you'd like it to be.

He ignores you.

His teeth graze your skin again, more deliberate this time. Your fingers curl tighter around the pages of your book, now completely forgotten, your entire focus narrowing down to the feel of Jaemin's mouth trailing up your shoulder.

Soft, warm, maddening.

“Princess,” you murmur, and it comes out as a warning.

He hums, still not looking at you, still pretending like he’s done nothing wrong. One of his hands find your thigh, fingers light, tracing shapes that make your skin burn.

When he finally glances up at you, there’s a smugness in his gaze.

You snap your book shut.

He freezes.

“I think,” you say, voice syrupy sweet, “you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here.”

He opens his mouth (to argue or to beg, you don’t know) but you don’t give him the chance. You swing your leg over him in a swift movement, straddling his lap, trapping him beneath you. You watch the way his breath catches, his hands going still on your thighs.

Jaemin looks up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, with so much admiration and so much fear and so much desire.

Like your touch is both salvation and punishment.

And you plan on being both.

[joyoushyuck]

(humour, fluff)

coworkers to lovers

Summary: In the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

...

08:53

Let's talk about inertia.

On any other day, inertia is just another physics concept that was defined by mad scientists for the sole purpose of ruining your life. The number of times you've lost your footing every time a bus accelerated is pathetic - made worse by the fact that public transport was your primary (and only affordable) mode of commute. Thankyou inflation.

On any other day, the first law of motion is just another major inconvenience in your already majorly inconvenienced life. On any other day, you'd be wasting your twenty seventh fuck on things that are not in your control.

This, however, is not any other day.

Hell no!

It is a very, very, very abnormal day. Not in a bad way - definitely not in a bad way. For once, inertia, and everything else not in your control, are working in your favor. It feels like the universe has finally seen enough of the tragedy that is your life and decided to send you a singular compensatory gesture.

Said compensatory gesture whistles as you fall on him. Again.

"If I were you, I'd take a guy out to dinner before falling all over him."

"Shut up, Haechan!" You roll your eyes. The compensatory gesture is a 5'8 man with gorgeous, gorgeous skin and a siren-like voice.

You know him. He knows you. You are coworkers.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

You also have a crush on him. No big deal. The nickname definitely didn't cause your brain to short circuit. It isn't making your stomach do all sorts of stunts like it's possessed by Bruce Lee's soul. Nope. No.

"What happened to your motorcycle?" You try small talk. Or maybe you are just curious. Public transport isn't really his thing.

"Maintenance," he sighs dramatically. You simply roll your eyes. He is one of those people with an unhealthy obsession with their motorcycles.

You are not one to complain. The sight of Haechan getting off his motorcycles, one hand taking off his helmet as he shakes his head to tame his hair, the other twirling the key in his hand-

Yeah. You wipe the metaphorical drool dripping down your mouth.

A very uncomfortable silence fills the space between you too (uncomfortable only for you, he looks pretty relaxed with the way he's looking around everywhere but you- wait...).

"Uhh..." you say intelligently.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "I am aware I tend to have this effect on women, you know. I tend to leave them speechless~" he sing-songs.

Aforementioned compensatory gesture also happens to be an ass.

You slap his (toned) biceps. He catches your hand. You make eye contact. His smirk drops to give way to something softer. You begin to think you are the protagonist of a kdrama. He parts his lips to say something.

Cue the perfectly timed brake that sends the two of you staggering towards the floor, assissted by the pull of gravity.

Oh.

Gravity.

Another one of Newton's concepts playing cupid today. Two is not a lot but it's weird it happened twice. On the same day.

Haechan falls on his ass, and somewhere during the fall his hands had secured themselves around your waist, so you fall square on his chest. You hear him exhale sharply, but before you can scramble to get up, you meet his eyes again.

And you both are so, so close. His eyes are wide, not a trace of his usual smugness visible on his face. A slight dust of pink decorates his cheek. You feel your own face heating up.

Fuck.

Some passengers help you get back to your feet. When the bus starts again, there's more tension between the two of you than the tension at the top of a vertical string supporting a weight. You clear your throat. Not very helpful.

When you finally arrive at your destination after a stifling 6 minutes and 33 seconds of awkwardness, Haechan slips something into the pocket of your coat before he leaves without another word.

You pull a note from your pocket. It’s his number. Below it, in scrawled handwriting: “Gravity’s a bitch. Call me.”

That's how in the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

(You got married in a public transport themed wedding ceremony 3 years laters.)

-

notes

if you liked the story, please reblog and comment. it motivates me to write more. constructive criticism is welcome:) requests are open.

this was my attempt at writing humour and it had more physics than fluff in it, but more couple centered fics will be released soon. engagements are treasured, but if you are a silent reader reading this, know that i love you.

[joyoushyuck]

what do you get when you mix public transport, physics, and a massive crush?

chaos. tension. and possibly a wedding 3 years later.

(coworkers to lovers, but make it gravity-powered.)

(humour, fluff)

coworkers to lovers

Summary: In the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

...

08:53

Let's talk about inertia.

On any other day, inertia is just another physics concept that was defined by mad scientists for the sole purpose of ruining your life. The number of times you've lost your footing every time a bus accelerated is pathetic - made worse by the fact that public transport was your primary (and only affordable) mode of commute. Thankyou inflation.

On any other day, the first law of motion is just another major inconvenience in your already majorly inconvenienced life. On any other day, you'd be wasting your twenty seventh fuck on things that are not in your control.

This, however, is not any other day.

Hell no!

It is a very, very, very abnormal day. Not in a bad way - definitely not in a bad way. For once, inertia, and everything else not in your control, are working in your favor. It feels like the universe has finally seen enough of the tragedy that is your life and decided to send you a singular compensatory gesture.

Said compensatory gesture whistles as you fall on him. Again.

"If I were you, I'd take a guy out to dinner before falling all over him."

"Shut up, Haechan!" You roll your eyes. The compensatory gesture is a 5'8 man with gorgeous, gorgeous skin and a siren-like voice.

You know him. He knows you. You are coworkers.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

You also have a crush on him. No big deal. The nickname definitely didn't cause your brain to short circuit. It isn't making your stomach do all sorts of stunts like it's possessed by Bruce Lee's soul. Nope. No.

"What happened to your motorcycle?" You try small talk. Or maybe you are just curious. Public transport isn't really his thing.

"Maintenance," he sighs dramatically. You simply roll your eyes. He is one of those people with an unhealthy obsession with their motorcycles.

You are not one to complain. The sight of Haechan getting off his motorcycles, one hand taking off his helmet as he shakes his head to tame his hair, the other twirling the key in his hand-

Yeah. You wipe the metaphorical drool dripping down your mouth.

A very uncomfortable silence fills the space between you too (uncomfortable only for you, he looks pretty relaxed with the way he's looking around everywhere but you- wait...).

"Uhh..." you say intelligently.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "I am aware I tend to have this effect on women, you know. I tend to leave them speechless~" he sing-songs.

Aforementioned compensatory gesture also happens to be an ass.

You slap his (toned) biceps. He catches your hand. You make eye contact. His smirk drops to give way to something softer. You begin to think you are the protagonist of a kdrama. He parts his lips to say something.

Cue the perfectly timed brake that sends the two of you staggering towards the floor, assissted by the pull of gravity.

Oh.

Gravity.

Another one of Newton's concepts playing cupid today. Two is not a lot but it's weird it happened twice. On the same day.

Haechan falls on his ass, and somewhere during the fall his hands had secured themselves around your waist, so you fall square on his chest. You hear him exhale sharply, but before you can scramble to get up, you meet his eyes again.

And you both are so, so close. His eyes are wide, not a trace of his usual smugness visible on his face. A slight dust of pink decorates his cheek. You feel your own face heating up.

Fuck.

Some passengers help you get back to your feet. When the bus starts again, there's more tension between the two of you than the tension at the top of a vertical string supporting a weight. You clear your throat. Not very helpful.

When you finally arrive at your destination after a stifling 6 minutes and 33 seconds of awkwardness, Haechan slips something into the pocket of your coat before he leaves without another word.

You pull a note from your pocket. It’s his number. Below it, in scrawled handwriting: “Gravity’s a bitch. Call me.”

That's how in the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

(You got married in a public transport themed wedding ceremony 3 years laters.)

-

notes

if you liked the story, please reblog and comment. it motivates me to write more. constructive criticism is welcome:) requests are open.

this was my attempt at writing humour and it had more physics than fluff in it, but more couple centered fics will be released soon. engagements are treasured, but if you are a silent reader reading this, know that i love you.

[joyoushyuck]

(humour, fluff)

coworkers to lovers

Summary: In the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

...

08:53

Let's talk about inertia.

On any other day, inertia is just another physics concept that was defined by mad scientists for the sole purpose of ruining your life. The number of times you've lost your footing every time a bus accelerated is pathetic - made worse by the fact that public transport was your primary (and only affordable) mode of commute. Thankyou inflation.

On any other day, the first law of motion is just another major inconvenience in your already majorly inconvenienced life. On any other day, you'd be wasting your twenty seventh fuck on things that are not in your control.

This, however, is not any other day.

Hell no!

It is a very, very, very abnormal day. Not in a bad way - definitely not in a bad way. For once, inertia, and everything else not in your control, are working in your favor. It feels like the universe has finally seen enough of the tragedy that is your life and decided to send you a singular compensatory gesture.

Said compensatory gesture whistles as you fall on him. Again.

"If I were you, I'd take a guy out to dinner before falling all over him."

"Shut up, Haechan!" You roll your eyes. The compensatory gesture is a 5'8 man with gorgeous, gorgeous skin and a siren-like voice.

You know him. He knows you. You are coworkers.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

You also have a crush on him. No big deal. The nickname definitely didn't cause your brain to short circuit. It isn't making your stomach do all sorts of stunts like it's possessed by Bruce Lee's soul. Nope. No.

"What happened to your motorcycle?" You try small talk. Or maybe you are just curious. Public transport isn't really his thing.

"Maintenance," he sighs dramatically. You simply roll your eyes. He is one of those people with an unhealthy obsession with their motorcycles.

You are not one to complain. The sight of Haechan getting off his motorcycles, one hand taking off his helmet as he shakes his head to tame his hair, the other twirling the key in his hand-

Yeah. You wipe the metaphorical drool dripping down your mouth.

A very uncomfortable silence fills the space between you too (uncomfortable only for you, he looks pretty relaxed with the way he's looking around everywhere but you- wait...).

"Uhh..." you say intelligently.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "I am aware I tend to have this effect on women, you know. I tend to leave them speechless~" he sing-songs.

Aforementioned compensatory gesture also happens to be an ass.

You slap his (toned) biceps. He catches your hand. You make eye contact. His smirk drops to give way to something softer. You begin to think you are the protagonist of a kdrama. He parts his lips to say something.

Cue the perfectly timed brake that sends the two of you staggering towards the floor, assissted by the pull of gravity.

Oh.

Gravity.

Another one of Newton's concepts playing cupid today. Two is not a lot but it's weird it happened twice. On the same day.

Haechan falls on his ass, and somewhere during the fall his hands had secured themselves around your waist, so you fall square on his chest. You hear him exhale sharply, but before you can scramble to get up, you meet his eyes again.

And you both are so, so close. His eyes are wide, not a trace of his usual smugness visible on his face. A slight dust of pink decorates his cheek. You feel your own face heating up.

Fuck.

Some passengers help you get back to your feet. When the bus starts again, there's more tension between the two of you than the tension at the top of a vertical string supporting a weight. You clear your throat. Not very helpful.

When you finally arrive at your destination after a stifling 6 minutes and 33 seconds of awkwardness, Haechan slips something into the pocket of your coat before he leaves without another word.

You pull a note from your pocket. It’s his number. Below it, in scrawled handwriting: “Gravity’s a bitch. Call me.”

That's how in the span of half an hour and a bus ride, you isaac newton-ed your way into Haechan's heart.

(You got married in a public transport themed wedding ceremony 3 years laters.)

-

notes

if you liked the story, please reblog and comment. it motivates me to write more. constructive criticism is welcome:) requests are open.

this was my attempt at writing humour and it had more physics than fluff in it, but more couple centered fics will be released soon. engagements are treasured, but if you are a silent reader reading this, know that i love you.

[joyoushyuck]

hi! I just thinking about how soft and needy sub!jaemin teasing readers

It's done anon!

https://www.tumblr.com/joyoushyuck/790833971385778176/suggestive-content-jaemin-has-been-trying-to-get?source=share

[joyoushyuck]

(suggestive content)

Jaemin has been trying to get your attention for the past half hour.

You pretend to be engrossed in the book you are reading, pretend not to notice the way his pants are hanging lower than usual on his waist. You pretend as if the sight of his chest (which is shirtless, by the way) doesn't turn make your stomach drop and your thighs clench.

You can sense your normally composed boyfriend growing increasingly impatient, a rare occurrence. You want to drag it out for as long as you can.

But Jaemin seems to have an entirely different plan.

He settles next to you on the couch and leans in as though he wants to read too.

"How's the book so far? Interesting?"

You raise an eyebrow as you are met with an innocent pair of eyes staring back at you.

"It's-" you clear your throat, your voice hoarse from the lack of use. Totally not because of the proximity. No. "It's okay, I guess."

Jaemin hums in reply and you get back to reading your book, but not even a whole minute passes before you feel him pulling the strap of your shirt down with his teeth, and nibble at the exposed skin of your shoulder.

You stifle a gasp.

"Jaemin," your voice is more breathless than you'd like it to be.

He ignores you.

His teeth graze your skin again, more deliberate this time. Your fingers curl tighter around the pages of your book, now completely forgotten, your entire focus narrowing down to the feel of Jaemin's mouth trailing up your shoulder.

Soft, warm, maddening.

“Princess,” you murmur, and it comes out as a warning.

He hums, still not looking at you, still pretending like he’s done nothing wrong. One of his hands find your thigh, fingers light, tracing shapes that make your skin burn.

When he finally glances up at you, there’s a smugness in his gaze.

You snap your book shut.

He freezes.

“I think,” you say, voice syrupy sweet, “you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here.”

He opens his mouth (to argue or to beg, you don’t know) but you don’t give him the chance. You swing your leg over him in a swift movement, straddling his lap, trapping him beneath you. You watch the way his breath catches, his hands going still on your thighs.

Jaemin looks up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, with so much admiration and so much fear and so much desire.

Like your touch is both salvation and punishment.

And you plan on being both.

-

notes:

like, comment and reblog pls. asks are open. you can request fics, or just share your thoughts in general. i'd love to read them! (even if they are just about your day, share them! those are the best kind of asks)