d-nghy-ck-ficrecs

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

if I lose my mind

dream sorter haechan x dreamer fem reader

genre: fantasy/tim burton-esque??, romance, smut, angst!!, fluffy moments

warnings: nightmare content (tame), strong language, explicit sexual content [oral f, fingering, mutual masturbation, spit, cum play, dirty talk, manhandling, overstimulation, biting, hickey m]

other characters: taeyong and doyoung as yn’s friends; mark, chenle and taeil as haechan’s friends, jisung

words: 14.5k

you’ve never cared much for your dreams. they were always confusing nonsense you forgot in the morning. this until you started to have the same dream again and again and again: a lobby, pleasant elevator music in the background, many golden doors, a handsome young man welcoming you and asking where you wanted to go that night. his name was haechan and apparently you weren’t supposed to know that, let alone fall in love with him. 

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[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

unavoidable

pairing: donghyuck x fem!reader word count: 5.8k contains: art school au, smut, a bit of sub!hyuck, fluff, mutual pining, oral (m receiving), fingering, kink discovery (exhibitionism), dumbification for like a split second, a little dry humping, protected sex, no pull out tho summary: after swearing to yourself you're done catching feelings for people; you meet someone who makes that incredibly difficult. you think you can avoid him... then you're assigned a final together. a/n: this is my first official fic on this blog! plz plz leave me feedback (whether it be an ask, a reply, reblog, or just a like, it's all VERY appreciated). let me know if i'm missing/need to get rid of any warnings!

“oh, he definitely likes you.”

you groaned in exaggerated frustration and let your body fall forward in your seat, forehead making contact with the cafeteria table. you heard yeri giggle across from you.

your freshman year of college started off strong. as strong as it could, anyway, with different members of your friend group convincing you to go with them to drink, party, or smoke every other week. you felt like you had a good healthy balance between productivity and fun. sometimes due dates came quicker than you thought, and you would pull an all-nighter to finish 2 day's worth of work in an hour, but you made it out alive in the end. even if you felt dead inside.

it was all working well until you met lee donghyuck.

donghyuck was loud and witty and gorgeous. he had a way of holding people’s attention, cracking jokes or making stupid comments that were only really funny because he was the one who said it. he started attending your shared cinematography class way too late into the semester, yet he was smart and creative as hell from the projects you’d seen him submit.

you, however, didn’t let yourself enjoy the experience of crushing on donghyuck because of the promise you made to yourself: no boys this year. dating in high school was a shitshow for you; too many empty promises and too much manipulation, and your grades slipped along with your sanity. it was exhausting, and you weren’t gonna sabotage your opening year of college by letting some guy cloud your thoughts. so you avoided donghyuck; tried not to make eye contact, tried not to check him out so much… tried not to look at him period. it all kinda failed.

yeri thought all of that was bullshit, of course, because “you literally had to write essays hours before your class started ‘cus you were with me and the guys getting high. you don’t really care about that, be real.”

so yeah, maybe you just emotionally closed yourself off. you still weren’t going to go out of your way to interact with donghyuck.

unfortunately, your professor decided the two of you would be perfect partners for a short film project so you had no choice.

he was the one who introduced himself first, all glowy skin and pretty smile and fluffy hair. the palm of his hand was soft but firm when you shook it. he smelled like whatever beachy bodywash he used and you tried not to drool at him while he shared his ideas with you in the last ten minutes of class. at that point you knew there was no saving you.

what really convinced you that you were done for was how quickly the two of you hit it off. a few meetups were all it took, your ideas bouncing off each other as you both enthusiastically got your creative juices flowing, and then you were friends. suddenly donghyuck was in every setting - the cafeteria, the hallways, the library - and as you became designated study buddies, his personality showed its depths.

he liked to poke fun at you over small things (your tone of voice when you tried to prove a point, the food you chose in the cafe, the music you liked, etc), but he was also caring. he’d ask if you needed help on any other subjects, carry art supplies for you, and offer to pay for your food.

you’d noticed about a week after meeting his close circle of friends that he didn’t do those things with them, though, and asked yeri, your closest friend, what she thought about that.

“yeah.. i’m sorry girl, but as someone who’s known hyuck for years, he’s literally an asshole like ninety-five percent of the time. this is honestly hilarious and i will be making fun of him for it.”

you lifted your head off the table with a heavy sigh and looked up to the busy cafeteria’s ceiling as if it’d give you some insight on what to do. “god, i’m so… we were doing fine! like i literally have a crush on him right now but the only thing that was keeping me sane was knowing he didn’t feel the same way.”

yeri continued to apply her makeup using a handheld mirror. she, luckily, didn’t have any classes after lunch for the day and was likely going to spend the rest of her friday with sooyoung. “he must be feeling something ‘cus even the teasing you described isn’t nearly as annoying as it usually is.”

“i mean, surely he’s not just a jerk.”

she gave you a look then huffed a laugh and shook her head. “sure, he can be sweet once every blue moon. he’s never fussed about driving us places, i’ll give him that. he just acts like a little brother to me.”

you practically felt the crush on him brewing into something bigger and more unbearable every time you talked about him. although he was really hot, you did genuinely like him as a person and you didn’t want to end up ruining what you had. “i really don’t know what to do. how am i supposed to control myself, now? just the way he talks sometimes makes me all.. you know.”

yeri pretended to gag. “please don’t talk about him like that near me,” satisfied with her face, she looked up from her mirror and not a second later something behind you caught her eye. “oh, speaking of the devil.”

“heyy girls,” donghyuck walked up to your booth with a very big camera and yeri smiled and nodded to him in greeting. he plopped down next to you and placed the camera right into your lap. your heart raced at how close he was. he pretended not to hear the squeak you let out. then, after noticing the pause, “you guys talking shit about me or something?”

“yes.” you and yeri said it in unison and you both laughed when he pretended to be offended. “what’s with the big heavy camera in my lap, hyuck?”

his excitement made itself known as he spoke. “renjun’s letting us borrow it since his final has him in the theatre. we were looking through the place earlier and found it with some other equipment so i kinda bribed him to let us use it.. it’s super cool.” he pulled out his phone to show some already-downloaded pictures and clips in his camera roll of what it’s capable of. you were honestly blown away.. it all looked straight from a movie.

yeri gave you an amused look. “you know.. you guys are both so geeky. i wonder why you didn’t become friends sooner.”

you knew from her tone and the way she pointedly looked at you what she was getting at with that statement. yeri was just as sweet and adorable as she was mischievous, and while that’s one of the things you liked about her, you couldn’t help the annoyance at her indirect jab at you. just as you were thinking of a response, donghyuck spoke. “you should come over later so we can test it out.”

your eyes widened. you’d never been to each other’s dorms, just meeting up in common - public study spots. and now that you knew he probably liked you back there was no way for the experience to be tension-free... on your part at least. yeri tried to muffle a laugh but it didn’t work.

studying with hyuck was already hard sometimes. he’d drink from a water bottle and watching his throat bob would be enough to make your mind fuzzy for longer than a moment. or his arm would brush against yours and butterflies would erupt all the way from your stomach to your chest. once, he decided to play a game of basketball with jeno before showing up, and you could swear being right across from his sweaty sun kissed body was going to drive you nuts. the idea of being alone with him in the comfort and privacy of his home was way more exciting than you wanted it to be.

you hoped you were playing off your shock well. “uh, sure. just text me the details after lunch?” your voice wavered regardless, and you cringed internally.

he nodded and walked off to grab something to eat, not without shoving your shoulder before he left for literally no reason. you could feel the smile on your face grow and bit your lip.

it was going to be an interesting day.

—

turns out donghyuck didn’t live in a dorm complex like most students, instead shared rent with mark, jeno, and jaemin in a cheap little house off campus. it made sense, the art school you all attended had so much to offer yet all the money they collected never really seemed to reach the dorm life. there wasn’t much space and the beds sucked, the cafeteria a ridiculous twenty-minute walk away from the buildings. it overall ended up cheaper and more convenient to split rent amongst four people and take turns driving to campus.

with that being said, the house was a mess, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. it didn’t necessarily stink (although the air had a hint of the familiar warm scent of weed, the kind that settled into furniture and you can’t quite get rid of), but it was cluttered and almost disastrous looking. while they seemingly had the decency to throw out food, they must not have had the same decency to put away anything else; shoes, clothes, bottles, textbooks, art supplies.. so many art supplies - you wondered how they knew where anything was. the living room tv played some youtube playlist of r&b music videos with no one in the room and you fought the urge to search for the remote yourself.

donghyuck’s shared room however, was very tidy compared to the main area of the house, and you assumed the kitchen and living room was just everyone’s communal workspace. his belongings seemed organized (surprisingly, considering his spontaneous personality), and you felt more at ease. you ended up sitting together on a large fluffy rug that accessorized his floor.

the requirement of your short film was that it had to be a visual study of your partner, whether that be an interview or a short documentary, it just had to be visual. the two of you decided to do both in one, as well as contribute some drawn graphic art into the editing to make it a partially animated piece in the end. in another meet-up you’d already colorfully written letters on pieces of paper, moved them around, and taken pictures of them to create the animation. you just had to start recording each other.

you’d realized you kinda overdressed when you arrived and saw donghyuck in sweats and a hoodie. you needed to showcase your true selves in the video, and while it wasn’t necessarily uncommon for you to wear a denim miniskirt and lacy cropped cami, it was one of your better outfits saved for outings. you had on an unzipped large hoodie for the breeze outside, so hyuck didn’t notice your top right away, but you saw the way his eyes flicked to your legs repeatedly when he gave you a mini tour of the place.

he set his bulky cinema notebook between the two of you and started flipping through it, looking for the pages with notes from the most recent classes. printed pictures and taped-in polaroids made the thing look a mess, but it endeared you, the amount of passion and thought hyuck put into art and photography.

he noticed your fidgeting. “you want something to drink? we have like, tons of soda.”

you hummed a no and stood up. “i’ll just start setting up the camera.”

“whatever you say.”

so far your visit had been almost as tense as you thought it’d be, fewer words spoken between the two of you than usual, and the only thing making things easier was the distant music from the living room tv. his room smelled so much like him, the beachy bodywash suddenly warm and strong in your nose and you figured he had the same scent in cologne. all those moments where each other’s presence felt like fire igniting (lingering looks when passing by, hugs lasting a few seconds too long, not moving away when you accidentally touch hands, arms, legs), felt like they’d been leading up to this; you in donghyuck’s room freshly showered and pampered with excitement bubbling in you, it felt way too similar to a hook up.

you could feel donghyuck’s eyes burning into you while you moved around. “so,” you pulled apart the legs of the tripod, “i assume this is our backdrop?”

hyuck looked to the heavily decorated wall you gestured towards and nodded, his mind visibly elsewhere. it wasn’t quite the white backdrop you had in mind but you figured it added character with all the pictures of him and his friends along with album covers and stuff. it probably should’ve been used for his segment of the video only, but you weren’t really thinking about anything that deeply at this point. your attention was mainly on donghyuck and the way he looked, soft and comfortable yet still as intimidating as usual.

he helped you put the actual camera on the stand and angle it, then played with the settings as you stood in front of the wall. you noticed how his roommate’s side of the room (mark, he told you) was relatively less neat than donghyuck’s and wondered if he just tidied everything up because you were coming. an exaggerated dreamy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts. “this thing is so fucking nice. really wish i could keep it.”

you smiled. what would he even need a big ass production camera for in his day-to-day life? you realized hyuck wasn’t just looking at the camera but you through it, and pursed your lips to keep from smiling bigger out of sheepishness. “let me know when you start recording.”

“i started, like, thirty seconds ago.”

“oh.”

he finally stepped aside from the settings on the camera but stayed within reach to zoom in or move it a bit when he felt necessary. you pulled a chair over and he started asking you questions, ones written and not shown to you during study sessions to keep each other’s answers authentic. the air in the room changed from loosely awkward to playful as you answered the very random questions. hyuck laughed at your responses and initiated friendly banter from behind the camera.

“what would you do with a million dollars? like if i handed you a million dollars right now what’s the first thing you’d do?”

you snorted. “i’d assume it’s all fake.”

hyuck rolled his eyes. “okay. then say you went and got it checked and it was all real. what are you doing with it?”

“buying anything i want, obviously.”

he tsked and flipped his paper to the next set of questions. “you could’ve said something meaningful, like donate it or something. you’re evil.”

you made a face at him while he messed with the camera a bit. the house was significantly warmer than the air outside and you were starting to feel it, so you shook your jacket off and threw it over to donghyuck’s bed. you took the chance to fix yourself up a bit, running your hands through your hair and adjusting both your top and skirt, rubbing your lips together to keep the lip gloss pigmented. your legs felt stiff so decided you’d rather stand, pushing the chair into the desk you pulled it from and standing back into place. there was a moment of silence and you looked up at donghyuck, just to see him already looking back at you. his playful smile was gone.

“you look really hot right now. just saying.”

your stomach flipped and your heart skipped before you even fully processed what he said. you had almost forgot about the butterflies and the tension and yet, it was back like it never left.

something in your expression made him laugh, the airy sound reminding you to breathe.. and to respond. “oh..”

a moment passed.

“sorry if that was crossing a line-”

“i promise you i don’t mind,” you interrupted, hands raised. “i just don’t know how to take compliments sometimes, i think. thank you.” then after a beat, “you look hot, too. like, all the time.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you felt breathless. since when did you forget to say thank you after someone complimented you? donghyuck’s voice sounded almost seductive all of the sudden, and you were ready to throw all caution to the wind. just the fact that he was standing there looking and listening to you, adjusting the camera to focus on you better, and felt the need to compliment you.. you realized his attention had never been undivided on you this way before.

you were about to speak again, but he beat you to it. “do you.. consider yourself a risk taker?”

it made you pause, momentarily forgetting that he was even interviewing you in the first place. a risk taker? a very normal question in contrast to the other things he asked, yet it hit home in a way. it felt almost ironic considering the internal battle you’d been fighting since he entered your life, all to save yourself from some imaginary heartache. you did this with other things in your life, too; emotionally closing yourself off to avoid negative emotions, and while it never got bad enough to cause huge miscommunication issues, you missed out on a lot of great feelings and experiences.

“ooh you’re thinking hard about this one. it must’ve been good,” hyuck teased, and you couldn’t help the big shy smile that erupted on your face. he just had a way with words.

“i don’t think i’m a risk taker,” you decided. when he just hummed in response and waited for you to continue, you figured your emotions must just be visible in your face or something. “...but i want to be. i want to take risks.”

“then why don’t you?”

“it’s scary sometimes,” you shrugged.

“don’t be scared, then.”

you genuinely laughed, and maybe it was the way his chest tightened at the sound, or the way your eyebrow curved in disbelief, but he felt something in him snap suddenly. he stepped over to you, grabbed your face, and kissed you in one seamless motion.

your heart soared, his lips soft and strong against yours, and you grabbed his forearms to anchor yourself. the kiss winded you; the shock of it wearing off and into a simmer in your gut. it all felt so warm - his body heat having melted into the fabric of his hoodie, his hands on your face - and you leaned in closer, running your hands from his arms to his back and up near his shoulder blades.

the feeling of your hands on him made him kiss you deeper, hotter, and you moaned. his brain short circuited at the sound and feeling, humming and kissing you even harder. the room temperature rose rapidly as the kiss went from sweet to desperate, hands grabbing and groping at and around each other until yours brushed the skin under his hoodie. he broke the kiss to pull you over to his bed, laying back on it and guiding you to straddle him with his hands on your hips. you felt yourself become wetter at the light manhandling.

now on top of him, you leaned down to kiss him again, curling your hands into his hair. it all felt so right, any doubts or worries you had beforehand completely forgot about as you felt donhyuck’s bulge grow stiffer against you, body euphoric and mind hazy with nothing but his warmth and his softness and his smell.

you pulled back to admire his face, a red flush beginning to form on his skin and a shiny plump to his lips. you impulsively traced a finger through the slit in his brow (something you’d wanted to do for a while) and he laughed lightly, “you’re a good fucking kisser.”

you hummed in response and slowly started to grind on him, watching his eyes flutter shut as his breath stuttered. seeing him like this after so much time imagining what he’d look like - under you, above you, between your legs - made you feel hot all over. it was almost surreal. you sped up and huffed a laugh when he grunted.

“guess i’m in control here?”

“shut up.”

he rolled his own hips up a few times to meet yours and you moaned louder than you meant to, dipping down to mouth at the side of his neck to hide your embarrassment. he wanted to laugh but ended up hissing loudly when you bit and sucked at it, dick twitching in his pants.

was this a good idea? you didn’t know nor care, everything feeling too good, and neither did donghyuck it seemed, his hands pushing your already ridden-up pleated skirt even further to grab each of your ass cheeks and push you closer into him. his hands squeezed and kneaded, and after noticing your breath hitching against his neck he slapped one side, and you keened. the sound went straight to his dick, and he lightly pushed you off of him. you gave him a confused look.

“need you.” he explained. his breathing was labored, mind and body focused on the feeling of your weight on top of him.

you shook your head. “can i suck you off first?”

you felt him twitch again before his head fell back on the pillows. “god, you can’t just say things like that. i’m already not gonna last long.”

“so is that a yes?”

he looked up at you and just studied your face for a second, then playfully flicked your forehead when you gave him puppy eyes. “no, i totally don’t want head from the sexy girl in my bed right now. why would i want that?”

rolling your eyes at his sarcasm, you bit your lip and started making your way down. hyuck helped you pull his hoodie off as you reached the seam of it. the t-shirt underneath rode up his chest in the process and you left a couple kisses on the smooth skin of his lower stomach. his abdomen tensed up.

“oh, you’re sensitive..” you whispered hotly against his skin and he took a moment to respond, just staring down at you, his brain moving like slush.

“‘m just ticklish.”

“right.”

when you finally pulled his dick out it was fully hard and a red-ish purple at the tip. feeling the warm weight of it in your hand and seeing the trimmed hair at the base made everything feel so real all of the sudden; the cute funny guy from cinematography now underneath you, pretty and responsive waiting for you to make him feel good. you hummed and kitten licked at the tip, eyes flicking up to lock with his. his face was now fully flushed, hair all messed up from your fingers and being rubbed against his pillow.

you licked a long, slow stripe from the base to the tip, then loosened your throat and sunk down on him. the relieved moan he let out was the greatest enabler, and you tried your best to take all of him in. when you were at your limit, you started lightly bobbing your head and used your hand for whatever didn’t fit when you began to speed up.

donghyuck was nearly panting at this point, staring blankly down at you with his mouth agape. before he got too comfortable with the pace, you lifted up and kitten licked his tip again. his dick twitched.

“you ticklish here, too?” you joked.

he didn’t even respond, too lost in his pleasure. you felt his dick twitch again and his eyes screwed shut, so you removed him from your mouth and waited.

some time passed with hyuck just breathing, calming himself down. he opened his eyes and looked visibly flustered when he saw your smile.

“i’m not usually this sensitive, i swear,” his voice came out hoarse. “i’ve just been wanting to.. like, i’ve thought about you for a while. if you know what i mean.”

your heart stuttered at the confession. donghyuck, probably the least shy person you knew, wasn’t even able to tell you straight-foward that he’d imagined fucking you. “it’s really okay. i think it’s cute.”

he pouted. “i don’t wanna be cute, though. i wanna be sexy.”

you laughed and dipped down to lick at the spot right under the head of his cock, eyes never leaving his. his mouth parted and you smiled. “i promise you’re just as sexy as you are cute.”

your underwear was definitely soaked now, so you decided not to waste anymore time, biting your lip and moving back up to straddle. hyuck reached down and into the pocket of his sweats and pulled out a condom.

you snatched it from him. “you just carry these on you?”

he sucked his teeth. “of course not, i was just hoping. didn’t wanna have to stop and grab it from my dresser.”

you tried to hide a smile and shook your head in mock disappointment. his hand grabbed your wrist after you teared at the packaging for a second.

there was concern clear on his face. “we don’t have to do this, by the way. we don’t have to do anything.”

“i want to, hyuck. i wouldn’t be doing this if i didn’t want to,” the unsure look on his face didn’t budge so you continued, “do you want to?”

“hell yeah,” he scoffed. “you just looked put off by the whole condom-in-my-pocket thing.”

“oh, it’s not a problem. i just think you’re lazy.”

after you put the rubber on him, you flattened your hand on his chest and tried to use the other to move your underwear to the side, but he lightly slapped your hand away to replace it with his own. a rush of pleasure ran through you as he rubbed your clit over the fabric, feeling his larger fingers on your most sensitive spot for the first time. apparently the moan you let out sounded funny because he laughed, but your brain didn’t catch up to anything before he breathed “how the fuck are you this wet?”, and suddenly you were extremely impatient.

“please hurry up,” you whined, and surprisingly he didn’t make a comment about you begging. he got to work instead, pushing your underwear over and inserting a finger into you, free hand grabbing the back of your head to pull you down and kiss you again. the feeling of your hot wet walls around his finger set him off, and he wrapped his arm around you, flipped you both over, and gently placed you down so he could thrust it in and out. once you pushed your hips up and mumbled some jibberish (something that sounded like a jumble of “more” and “too slow”), he added a second finger then sat back on his knees to really look at you.

he felt almost dizzy. your eyebrows were furrowed and your skin was flushed, body still clothed yet moving like a wave from your abdomen to your hips against his hand, pushing into the pleasure he was giving you. you huffed out whimpers with most breaths, chest rising and falling giving donghyuck the tempting view of the lacy fabric of your top against the flesh of your boobs. he pushed in a third finger and used his other hand to lift your top up, grabbing a boob over the cup of your bra and squeezed.

you bit your lip, body buzzing. “hyuck.”

“hmm?”

you could feel yourself whining again but you didn’t care. “please just. i need you inside me,” the familiar winding-up in the pit of your stomach was coming way too soon.

the words ‘i need you inside me’ rung in donghyuck’s head as he looked at your pretty little skirt that’d been pushed up, your underwear that had been moved to the side, and the way your pussy took his fingers. your body layed there on his bed in his room, halfway clothed and desperate. he let out a shaky sigh. “i’m not gonna last long.”

you grabbed his wrist. “i don’t care. i’m not gonna last either.”

“you get all whiney and needy when you’re horny,” he teased, his wet fingers exiting you and indenting into your hip as he grabbed you and lined himself up. “would’ve never thought you were ever ‘in charge’ of me.”

you both moaned loudly when he sunk in. his cock inside of you felt like a missing piece to a puzzle, and you tried to slow your breathing to relax your body. he waited a moment, twitching inside of you as he waited for you to adjust, then thrusted in and out slowly.

it was overwhelming to say the least, everything you felt inside and out was hot and the stretch was addicting. if this was what you’d been missing out on all this time, you hated yourself for it. you moaned again when he sped up, the cheap bedframe creaking below you.

hyuck furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. he breathed in deeply, closed his eyes, then exhaled a half-whispered “you smell so fucking good.” he let go of your hips and draped himself over you, placing his forearms on each side of your head and just watched your expressions. you breathed hot and quick in each other’s faces, whimpers mixing with moans.

you faintly heard the music from the living room tv get louder and louder, some bryson tiller song echoing off the walls, and your stomach dropped a little. someone had come home and heard you guys fucking right next door. the tightening feeling came back to the pit of your stomach fast and you tangled your hand into donghyuck’s hair, bringing him closer to rest your foreheads against each other and anchor yourself.

he moaned loud and clear, fucking into you faster and harder, eyes screwing shut. “r-renjun’s here.”

you panted. “fuck.”

“hnng. fuck,” he nodded against you, but it was obvious the nod was in agreement to something neither of you would say out loud.

turned on beyond belief, you rolled your hips up to meet his thrusts, your g-spot getting pistoned into as hyuck chased his own orgasm. he huffed out a desperate little whimper at the action, and you wrapped your legs around him, pushed him deeper into you, and pulled his hair as you felt yourself start to let go.

he really did try to speak, but the only warning you were given that he was about to cum was a quick rough inhale and a violent twitch inside you before you felt the warmth fill you. you swore you felt numb in your limbs as your own vision went blank. your highs lasted a few extra seconds of both of you stiff against each other before you sagged into the bed, satisfied.

donghyuck rolled off of you and the two of you just panted up into the air for a while. he eventually breathed out a “woah.” and sat up, walking out the room to get warm wet towels to clean up with.

he came back with a stupid big smile on his face, and when you looked at him questioningly he just snickered. “he’s pissed.”

he was wiping your inner thigh for you, for soothing purposes more than anything, when you finally spoke.

“i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” you stared hard at his ceiling as if it’d give you the right words to say. the high from arousal had worn off and you were left with that anxious uneasy feeling that kept you from doing this in the first place, but after experiencing what you just did, you didn’t want to just move on. “i’m not sure how you think of me..,” you sat up to look him in the face and he paused, giving you his full attention. “..but i really like you. and i don’t wanna screw anything up.”

the look on donghyuck’s face was nothing but puzzled. he stared at you, really stared at you, and you felt stupid. did he not like that way at all? you were ready to accept the rejection and move on as friends with benefits and a hurting heart until he cut your thoughts short.

“you really don’t know?”

you frowned. “don’t know what?”

his entire demeaner softened as he took in your genuine confusion. then he looked a little embarrassed. “i’ve been kinda obsessed with you since we met. i thought you knew ‘cus the guys make fun of me for how i act around you all time.. they always joke about telling you. in fact jaemin said he told you and i couldn’t tell if he was kidding. so when you kissed me back earlier i guess i just assumed that was like, a reciprocation.”

despite having caught on to his crush the literal day before, you were shocked. you didn’t even suspect that he was ‘obsessed’ with you, if anything you thought it was just a bit of attraction from spending time with you so often. you could feel your skin go hot.

“i didn’t even think you were into me at all until yesterday,” you swore, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “it really wasn’t that obvious.”

“even though i follow you around all the time?”

“huh? you follow me around? like, at school?”

he laughed in light disbelief. “yeah? i’m with you almost always outside of class. it’s pathetic.”

the butterflies came back to your stomach as the two of you talked about all the (very obvious) hints to your interest in each other, and when he kissed you again and asked you to be his girlfriend, you didn’t have to think twice before answering.

–

when you were being walked out by donghyuck, you were met with renjun sitting on the kitchen counter with a sketchbook in his lap and a paint set next to him. you guessed you were right about the communal workspace thing. he took out an airpod when he notice your presence and you smiled at him bashfully.

“is there anything you two would like to say to me?” he looked between the two of you pointedly, the edges of his lips curling up despite his efforts.

you and hyuck looked at each other then back to renjun. hyuck pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing.

“we’re dating now?” you tried, and renjun rolled his eyes.

“not even a sorry?”

“well, i’m not sorry, personally,” hyuck said, cocky smile stuck on his face. “this is payback for making me pay for dinner the other day.”

renjun scoffed. “that’s not even remotely the same!”

hyuck just grabbed your hand and continued to walk you out, and you turned to wince and mouth a ‘sorry’ to renjun.

you were definitely in for a ride with this man, and you had no doubts about it this time.

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

seventeen; saying i love you [performance unit]

Junhui: It takes him by surprise one day. Love peeks it’s head around the corners of his mind and says ‘hello,’ and Junhui, with some small curiosity thinks, ‘how did you get in here?’ He spends so much of his time in his internal landscape–tending to the garden of his thoughts, lost in a world of his own, that welcoming someone else in feels like a foreign experience. He’s not sure what to make of it at first. An intrusion? But that doesn’t feel quite right. A guest? Also wrong. He sits with it, for a while, gazing it in the face before standing up and leaving his thoughts for reality. There he finds you and he realises what that word is. Neither guest, nor intrusion—it simply is. ‘I love you’ seems a paltry statement to welcome you home. 

Hoshi: Hoshi’s idea of love is noise. It suits him. He lives in chaos and cacophony and so why would he ever think that love would be any different? It blooms in his mind like fireworks in the night sky—illuminating the expanse of his heart and his thoughts; coalescing and dancing with the stars of his energetic ambitions. His wild hopes and dreams. He seeks his love out in bright places—in busy streets and busier people—and that’s why it takes him off guard when it finally does arrive. Wrapped in silence and stillness, love drops a pin inside of him. Suddenly everything stops. And there you are, standing crystal clear in the muddy waters of his mind and now the only words he can hear are love, love, love. And he realises now why he never found it before. 

Minghao: The question of ‘love’ settles in Minghao’s mind like a concern. A concept, an idea, a theory—something to mull over in the small hours of the night. He plucks it up, like a book, and turns it over in his hands. Wondering at the stillness of it. At how something so intangible can carry so much weight. Under his watchful gaze, it blooms like a orchid inside of him—tender and delicate. He tests the words out to himself before ever uttering them aloud, for he fears them crumbling in his hands lest he put in the effort to maintain their strength. And when he finally does utter them into existence—wrapped in silks and satin, a gift for you alone—he is surprised at how they bloom anew in the space between. No longer a contemplation for himself alone, they shimmer and reflect in your eyes and he wonders how he thought they could ever possibly lose strength in the first place. 

Dino: All of the trappings of love—the flowers, the hearts, the letters, the love songs. They all surround him in a pink cloud of romance. He delights in them—dancing through these delicate accoutrements of emotion like a cherub in the sky. They excite him, they give him a feeling of purpose and belonging at the beginning of the formation of his love. The ‘l’ blooms in his chest and his eyes are wide with possibility. The ‘o’ brings with it a rose-scented wave of longing and desire. The ‘v’, a choir of angels singing haloed wherever he goes. By the time the ‘e’ has formed he is standing before you, empty handed, grinning wide, and freed of all the clutter of his infatuation. All he has is words. All he needs is you. 

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

Five Senses

explicit descriptions of sex below the cut (mark + 00 line)

Keep reading

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

On this festive night

pairing: neighbor! hyuck x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers!AU

warnings: none, i think

word count: 1.1k words

a/n: merry christmas everybody :) sorry this was a bit half assed i havent really been in the christmas mood hhh :(( alsooo part of @kflixnet 's dialogue prompt event !!! (fluff prompts 4, 14, 18, 21, and 23)

networks: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @ficscafe

You never expected on one of your least favorite Christmas eves your (very cute) neighbor would be knocking on your door, asking for some blankets since the whole building's power went out and his friends suddenly came over. And you definitely didn't expect one of his friends to invite you to the Christmas gathering they were going to.

You also didn't expect yourself to smile at the thought and agree. Not one bit did you expect that you'd find yourself enjoying the party with your neighbor at his friend's, who's name you've learned is Jeno. (with Jaemin and Renjun. You suspect they're a packet, buy one get 3?)

And the very last thing you expected was to be staying at their house after the party, in Jeno's room while he was passed out on the couch.

Donghyuck turns his head to face you, sprawled on Jeno's carpet with cookies Jaemin made this morning between you. Jeno said you two could stay in his room, just not his beloved bed.

Donghyuck's eyes trail down, and stare at the socks you wear. In the dim lighting, he can barely make out what patterns were on them, but after a while he recognizes the reindeer on them, and he vaguely remembers your Christmas socks being santa.

"Are you wearing my socks?"

You hum mindlessly, nudging his foot with yours, "Yeah, they're warmer than mine."

Funny, you don't remember being able to get this close to someone you met the day before. You guess it's just how Lee Donghyuck is, outgoing and very likeable. Maybe you have a small crush on him.

For like, a long time now.

There was that one time he held the elevator door for you and you decided you were in love that afternoon.

It's not like your neighbor didn't feel the same way, either. The moment he saw you pushing a heavy box into your apartment, swearing under your breath, he fell. For some apparent reason. Was it because you looked so determined just to get a stupid box into your house? Perhaps he just thought you looked really good that day.

Donghyuck won't complain about his stolen socks. He's wearing the fluffy stockings that Renjun gave to him on his birthday.

"I'm surprised you were alone." He suddenly says out of the blue.

"What?"

"You know," Donghyuck shrugs, tearing his eyes off your socks, instead keeping them on the band poster Jeno hung on his wall. He remembers that day, Jaemin almost ripped the poor poster.

"when I asked to get some blankets."

"Oh..." Embarrassment fills you, and your voice grows quieter. "yeah, my friends had plans with their family, and my parents thought it would've been better if I just stayed here."

Donghyuck gets it, he gets it with his whole heart, He's been through it for a few years now, but he has Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun to accompany him so he likes to think he's alright.

"I'm actually glad you were alone, I don't think I would have had the balls to knock on your door."

At this, a smile spreads across your face, and a laugh bubble from the back of your throat. In a way, you're kind of glad you were alone too. Sure, you were sulking around and super petty about your friends having fun without you, but it led you to meeting Donghyuck, officially. And this night.

"I'm glad you knocked,"

"I am too."

There's a comforting silence that fills the air after that, no words needed to be shared, no nothing, just faint Christmas msuci playing from Jaemin's room, and the light fiddling of Donghyuck's fingers on a Christmas hat.

If it weren't for tonight, you'd be a big pile of sadness, eating ice cream in the middle of winter while watching home alone. You know you would've done this, because it was the only thing on your mind before Donghyuck knocked on your door.

It's like when you opened the door, everything disappeared. All your previous negative thoughts of being alone for Christmas flying away, and you're sure, even if he didn't invite you to the party, you still would've been thinking about him.

He distracts you. In the best way.

You turn your head to Donghyuck, just as he catches your hand with his. He has a sparkle in his eyes, it's so very genuine, you think you might just drown in how beautiful they look. "and I'm glad you're here," his hand tightens around yours, "with me."

A smile curls at your lips, "I am too,"

Donghyuck suddenly shifts, closer to you, much closer than you had anticipated. It's not like you minded, really. You could see him clearer in the midst of the dark room.

His eyes reflect the many Christmas lights illuminating outside, and the streetlamp just in front of the house, it's oddly appealing, calling out for you.

As if your eyes were calling out for him, Donghyuck leans down, nose brushing oh so softly against yours.

A breathy laugh leaves your lips, blowing right against his. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

Donghyuck can just barely feel your lips moving against his, it feels better than they should, "Only if you want me to."

Your head moves to the side, your noses nudging, lips just barely brushing against his. "And why would I want that?"

Your eyes carry a glint of mischief in them, and affection that draws Donghyuck in.

"Well," He leaves a small peck by your cheek, "I like you. You like me. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory, don’t you think?”

He has a point. It's very evident that he has feelings for you, no doubt you have some for him, either. It's written all over your faces, your eyes every time they trail to him during the party, your lips every time he makes a very stupid joke, every lingering raise of your cheeks when you're with him. You might just be smitten.

And then your lips connect. Softly, lovingly, with small smiles pressing against each other. Donghyuck's Christmas sweater feels soft on your fingers, his hair even softer. And your lips feel heavenly on his, like a dream. They move together feverishly, pouring every ounce of feeling you have for each other.

There, on this festive night, you don't feel lonely anymore. Not in Jeno's room, with Donghyuck's warm embrace around you. You don't think you'll ever feel lonely on another Christmas.

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

— body electric; j.jh

— summary: you and jaehyun are friends, and you and jaehyun are roommates, and you and jaehyun really, really have the hots for each other. — pairing: jung jaehyun x fem!reader. — genre: smut; roommates!au. — word count: 3.7k (3741) — warnings: mutual masturbation, voyeurism, dirty talk, use of the pet name "kitten", mentions of oral sex (m!receiving), both of them are sooooo far gone for each other. — song: crush — cigarettes after sex. — a/n: so jaehyun cursed me and this is the result! i'm going thru it! (dedicated to my jsoulmate and favorite peachzen, @svtxsoju ❤️‍🔥)

Jaehyun is sure he’s imagining things.

Okay, well, maybe he’s not completely sure, but oh does he want to be. See, if he were to be imagining things, he’d simply be able to put a record into his player, focus on the music, close the book he’s been trying to read for the past few minutes, and have some time to himself. If he were imagining things, simply hearing your voice inside his head, seeing you dancing before his eyes in the sweetest of fantasies, then maybe, just maybe, he could think of a way to release the pent up tension that has his hands shaking by his sides.

The feeling in his chest though, the sound of his heart thumping violently against his ears and the heat rising to his cheeks really, unfortunately, lets him know he’s been hearing things right. And, God, as much as he likes being right, Jaehyun finds himself wishing that the sweet little moans coming from the room next door were as much of a dream as they had been ever since he had moved in with you.

He wonders how it all began, but deep down, he knows it had all been brewing from way back. A happy coincidence, an advertisement for a free room in a complex near campus, printed in a brightly-colored flyer that had caught his eye after his last medieval literature lecture of the semester and led him straight to you.

Enter Jaehyun, a last year literature student, desperately looking for a new place to live in after his best friend and roommate graduated from college and moved across the city. Enter you, a last year architecture student, desperately looking for a new roommate after your best friend, a quiet man named Dong Sicheng, agreed to move in with his girlfriend, leaving you with a free room and full rent deposit to pay.

And really, ignoring the almost immediate sexual tension, everything had started out well, but sadly, a line came to form between you and Jaehyun that the two of you had been too cautious to cross. Living together, and especially with all the pressures of a busy semester and a near graduation, was hard enough on its own to then add any sort of roommate drama on top. So you became friends.

Sure, friends who check each other out before leaving the house. Friends who look at each other during kiss scenes in movies wishing they could be brave enough to admit their feelings for each other, but still being careful enough so that the other person doesn’t meet their eyes. Friends who hug each other for a little longer than they should. Friends who hold onto the accidental hand grazing that came with handing each other a cup of freshly-brewed coffee in the mornings. And yeah, friends who have made out once or twice when going out partying, but friends nonetheless. Friends and nothing more.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun breathes out as he hears you cry out a little louder, feeling himself becoming hard under his light gray sweatpants. Do you even know he’s home?

He doesn’t even notice the moment he gets up from his bed, his copy of von Goethe’s Selected Poetry laying long forgotten on his bed. It’s almost as if his mind is blank, suddenly becoming a wandering man following your voice like a map that will finally bring him home. He walks faster than he can think and feels deeper than he can reason, and he’s not completely sure of how he’s gotten there, but he’s suddenly standing outside of your door with a tent in his pants and a hand balled up and ready to knock.

“Oh, God,” he hears, and he nearly has to pinch himself in the arm to make sure he’s not dreaming, as much as everything about the situation feels like a dream, because as soon as he’s there he notices the door isn’t closed.

It’s not wide open either, but rather somewhere in between, and Jaehyun quickly tries to find a place where he’s not visible from the inside. His breath gets caught in his throat, trying to tell himself that he should go back to his room and lock the door, leaving you alone in such an intimate moment but for some reason, he can’t bear to look away.

He wonders if he’s ever gonna get you out of his mind, or if you’re engraving yourself in the very deep, a friend, a crush, suddenly becoming a muse he’s set and ready to adore for as long as he’s living. He sees you laying down on your bed, bare naked, a light layer of sweat resting upon your skin and making you look like you’re glowing, a sort of vision like that of an oasis for a man who’s dying of thirst. It’s like you’ve bewitched him, like you’ve sung a siren song and pulled him to the deepest corners of the ocean, and he knows, deep down, that he’d follow you even if you were. He’d let himself be enchanted by you, any day and any way, because you’re magic in and out of yourself.

He drinks you up, bit by bit, moan by moan, trying to hold back one of his own as he grabs at his crotch, letting out a loud breath at the touch.

And you hear him, because your hand stops for a brief moment while you turn to look at the man standing outside your door. He’s some sort of desperate, knowing he’s caught, and knowing he should run away before you’ve given yourself time to react to him seeing you like this, but he doesn’t. He stands his ground, praying that you won’t stop singing, that you won’t break your spell, because he’s too far gone to let himself free. He wants to adore you the way a muse should be, venerate your body like you’re the highest form of art, let himself be devoted to you like his soul is telling him to.

“Sorry, I —”

“If you’re gonna watch, then you might as well have some fun too,” you whisper, quickly brushing your discarded brassiere off your bed and onto the hardwood floor. Jaehyun’s eyes follow the garment, taking it the entirety of its bright red lace, and he gulps as he feels his throat go dry. “If you’re hard enough yet, you know.”

He doesn’t find the words to respond, or, at least, the courage to actually speak them, but he takes a step into your room and closes the door behind him. He takes note of the music playing from your computer, propped up on your desk, not that far away from you, and he wonders if maybe you had been thinking of him while listening, because he recognizes the song and knows he’s thought of you while doing the same.

Looking away from your desk, his eyes meet yours once again, and Jaehyun can do nothing else but stare.

He finds his hand traveling lower and lower, somehow still entranced by your words, your shameless invitation and your watchful eyes, staring at him in the exact same way he's staring at you. He’s not sure if you’re both gonna end up regretting this, once the lust has faded and the adrenaline has run out, having to live with each other and see your faces every day, remembering just how desperate you had been in finding relief while using each other as an inspiration.

“Can I?” He asks, voice softer than the moment would ask for. He doesn’t elaborate, walking closer to your bed and nudging at the empty space right next to you.

You nod, scooting over to the other side of the bed as he comes to sit down next to you. He begins taking off his sweats, taking his time with the piece of clothing in what you assume is a method of seduction, but really, it’s really just him trying to hide the nervous shake in his hands that came with the adrenaline. He wants to appear smoother than he is, pretending he hasn’t been dreaming of being so close to you from the past few months, but the reddening of his ears gives him away. Or it would, at least, if you had noticed.

He lets the sweats fall down to the floor, joining your discarded lingerie, and moves so his bare arm touches yours as he falls into place. The movement of the bed, combined with the non-stopping movements of your fingers against your core has you producing a soft moan, one you don’t even try to hold back, mind completely fogged up with the only sense of clarity coming from Jaehyun’s skin brushing against yours.

“Fuck,” he hears you whisper, head thrown back as you let little whimpers roll off your lips without a care in the world. “This is s-so hot.”

Jaehyun agrees, but words are stuck in his throat as he moves his hand inside his boxers. He’s not sure if he’s simply imagining it or if his body temperature has actually risen, but as he grazes his fingers over his cock, the skin almost but burns at the touch. His eyelids flutter close, and he’s grateful he had sat right next to you on the bed, letting his back relax onto the headboard.

“I-I’m gonna take them off,” he says, fingers toying with the elastic rim of his boxers. “They feel too tight.”

You turn to look at him, lowering the motions of your hand to slow down but not stopping them altogether. Your fingers still graze upon your clit, allowing your body to take a breath as you watch Jaehyun slowly removing the fabric off his body. It feels like a waiting game, and you wonder if he’s doing it to purposefully tease you as some sort of revenge for the loud moaning that had brought him here in the first place. Or maybe he’s doing it to tease himself, letting the linen run down his shaft as some sort of caress; never enough to actually please, more than necessary to build up the tension in his stomach.

He does it, finally, after what feels like an eternity for the both of you, letting his dick spring free against his stomach. He’s rock hard, tip red and already leaking pre-cum, and your movements on your core speed up ever so slightly at the thought of putting him in your mouth. He lets out a sigh of relief at finally being free from restraints, cool air hitting his skin and making him wince. His hands fall down his sides as he lets his head hang back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He likes the waiting, letting the pressure rise until he can practically feel himself throbbing against nothing but the cool wisps of air coming from your open window.

“God, Jae, you’re so hot,” you whisper, letting your fingers travel down your core until one teases at your entrance. Your nail teases the tender skin as you drag it up and down, biting your lip as you feel your head start spinning.

You’re tempted to just relieve the pressure right then and there, but your other hand seems to have a mind of its own as it moves up your body and gives a playful squeeze to your breast. You let out a moan and Jaehyun moves to look at you once again, eyes set in the way you tease your body in the exact same way he’s teasing his. There’s something about the two of you enjoying the same kind of pain that came with the waiting to be pleasured, like a thousand electric volts running through your veins by the second.

“You look so fucking pretty like that,” he speaks, voice deep. You frown at his words, hips unconsciously snapping up as you try to get even a sliver of release. “So desperate and ready to cum, f-fuck. Is your own touch too much for you to handle, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, but the word comes out as a broken moan. “I-I want to make myself cum so bad, and all for you to see.”

Jaehyun chokes out a moan of his own at your words, the pressure on his cock heightening as he feels thrills running down his body as a product of the arousal. He’s so hard it hurts, and can already think of how good it’s gonna feel when he finally lets himself give in.

He bites his lip, moving his hand from the bed to rest at the base of his cock. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he grabs at his dick as he watches you finally insert a finger into your core, not missing how your body seems to visibly relax once you start moving your digit. A whine forms in the bottom of your throat and you pinch your nipple with the hand that was holding your breast, making Jaehyun finally move his hand along his dick as he lets his imagination fly, wondering just how warm your skin would feel against his fingers if he were the one pleasuring you, preparing you to come undone because of him.

He hears you pant as you introduce another finger, maintaining a steady pressure on your perked nipple, speeding up his own rhythm.

“Are you gonna make yourself cum, kitten?” He groans, tightening his grip. His other hand balls the fluffy comforter under him, a sort of reminder for him to stay grounded and not let himself go before time. “Are you imagining those are my fingers, stretching you out and making you feel better than yours ever could?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really wish these were your fingers instead of mine, Jae, making me feel g-good.”

He runs his hand up and down, grip never softening, his rhythm constant as he takes in your words. It’s like a game of cat and mouse, tempting each other with words and movements alike, toying with your patience until one of you inevitably gives in. And it’s addicting, the feeling of his burning gaze upon your body, admiring every part of you and consuming it bit by bit. It’s good enough to remind yourself of the game you’re playing, and you remove your fingers just when the pleasure they’re giving becomes too much.

He watches with half-lidded eyes, the sudden withdrawal of your hands from your body, admiring the calmness in your face despite the eagerness in your eyes. You’re watching him too, and, contrary to you, he doesn’t allow his hand to stop its ministrations on his cock as he watches you switch positions.

“You look even better up close,” you say, placing your knees on the bed and letting your head hang close to his member.

One of your arms supports your weight as the other one snakes from under your body and finds your core again. You let out a moan when the tips of your fingers come in contact with your clit, and Jaehyun is just removing his hand from his cock when your breath meets his skin. He bites his tongue, pulling his head back as he gathers every ounce of self-control he has to keep himself from asking you to take him in your mouth.

“Don’t do that,” he says, and you barely hear him, both because you’re too focused in the pleasure that comes from the rubbing of your clit and because his voice had been way too low in the first place. It was more of a whimper than an actual request, and you had never really been as complacent as him. “Fuck, don’t do that again.”

“Don’t do what, huh?” You ask, making sure you lower your head even more when speaking. You’re sure that is what he meant not only because of the timing, but because of the way his fingers seem to grip tighter against the comforter everytime you utter a word. “Speak so close you can practically feel me?”

Jaehyun groans, muttering a quiet fuck between his teeth as he raises one of his hands and runs it through his hair. He’s practiced edging himself and has gotten pretty decent at it, but the closeness of your body has him feeling so out of control he’s on the verge of snapping.

“You’re making this really hard for me, kitten,” he whispers. “You’re making me wish I could just fucking cum.”

“God, then why don’t you,” you whine, letting yourself get lost in his holding back. “Jae, just, oh, just do it. I’m so fucking c-close.”

You increase your rhythm, rolling your clit between your fingers as you feel a familiar pleasure building in the base of your stomach. You don’t bring yourself to a stop, and you don’t think you have to, brain fogged up and overfilled with the need of release that your arm gives in and you let yourself fall onto Jaehyun’s lap. You’re so close, and your movements against your clit speed up as you moan against the skin of his thigh, shutting your eyes closed as you let the sounds come out of your mouth without caring about the volume.

Jaehyun doesn’t notice, but the hand that was just playing with his hair comes to rest on top of your back and he keeps you flush against his lap, not really exerting any force but still keeping you glued to his body. It’s the movements of your hand, the warmth of his skin and the musky scent of his cologne that lingers on his body even after a full day of work that finally breaks the tension in your body.

And it’s so much, so goddamn much, that you end up coming against your fingers as you nuzzle your face against Jaehyun’s thigh, almost but crying out his name as everything but his touch disappears from your mind.

“O-oh, fuck!” You curse, plopping completely onto the bed. “Oh my God.”

Your forehead is still pressed tightly against Jaehyun’s thigh, the hand that was previously on your back coming to rest on top of your head. You’re not sure if he simply likes feeling you on him or if he’s trying to somehow comfort you with his touch, but either way, you don’t move. Trying to regain your breath while being glued to Jaehyun’s skin proves to be difficult, but you just keep your eyes closed and take deep breaths, inhaling his scent as you do fresh air. The breaths come out as whimpers from your mouth, causing the blonde’s mind to run a thousand miles per hour as he does his best to keep you close, close, close. He doesn’t want to let go of you, and the pressure on his unattended cock has risen to the point he’s breathing heavily as he reminds himself to not cum just yet.

“That was so hot,” Jaehyun says, breathing out as he keeps his eyes set on you, and your skin, and the way it feels like it’s almost burning his own at the mere touch. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He’s had his fair amount of experience, but he had never felt nearly as aroused and needy as he’s doing now, and he wonders if it’s just the situation or if what you two have is really fueling the fire that is now consuming the room. Everything feels hot, way too hot, and his mind starts spinning uncontrollably as he thinks of just what he can do to relieve himself of the heat. The cool outside breeze hits his skin but it doesn’t help, he’s merely reminded of the fact that he’s almost but begging to be touched.

And you notice. His hand shakes a little when he runs it from your head and down your back, and he jumps a little whenever you move, no matter how slightly. Despite the sudden rush of adrenaline (or maybe because of it), your senses are heightened and Jaehyun is all you can feel, all you can see. His pleasure is still rooted in the back of your mind, and you raise yourself on your elbows to come face to face with his cock.

“Do you want me to help you out?” You ask, voice growing a little shy. It’s almost as if you had forgotten what had just happened, the way you had reacted to his voice and the way he had stared at you as if his life depended on it. “I can suck you off.”

“I just don’t- fuck,” he swallows. He’s still staring at you, and a blush rises to his cheeks as he notices the mischievous gleam in your eyes. You haven’t gotten enough. “I don’t want to make it awkward for us after this, kitten.”

You smirk. The entire thing still feels like some sort of fever dream, still not completely real as you see Jaehyun sprawled out in front of you. It’s like he’s a product of your imagination because there’s no way he’s actually this perfect and so dangerously close to you after feeling so far away for far too long. He’s your roommate, and he had been just that, no matter how much you had wished he could just be something else. Until tonight.

“I just came in front of you while you called me kitten,” you say, smirk growing as you recall the nickname. “It wouldn’t be awkward for me.”

He takes in a deep breath. He can’t hide the fact that he’d been crushing on you for months - longing stares shared whenever you walked from the bathroom to your room in a silky bathrobe, or whenever he got home from the gym, drenched in sweat and with the breathy tank top glued tight to his skin. He’s wanted you, a burning desire growing wild and ravishing in the back of his mind, and he’s finally got you.

And he’s not sure if it’s wishful thinking, but the way you’re looking at him suggests you feel the exact same way about him. He’s right, and you try to communicate it with a smile, a little giggle escaping your lips as you look up at him like he’d painted the stars in the midnight sky.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he groans, smiling when you move even closer to him. “Go ahead and make me cum, baby.”

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

Romance Masterpost

How to write it

How to write romance

Love Language - Showing, not telling love

Love Language - Showing you care

Honeymoon

Slow burn

Forbidden Romance (+ prompts)

Reasons for a break-up while still loving each other

How to write a wedding

How to create quick chemistry

How to write enemies to lovers (+ prompts)

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers

Arranged matrimony for royalty (+ prompts)

Date gone wrong

Academic rivals to lovers

Romantic Fall Date Ideas

How to write a polyamorous relationship

Milestones in a relationship

How to write age difference

Fluffy Kiss Scene

Reasons a couple would divorce on good terms

Prompt Lists

Romance Prompt List Part I + Part II + Part III + Part IV

Bad ones, unrequited, break-up Part I + Part II

Flirting - Successful and unsuccessful Part I + Part II

Two smart and also stupid people in love

Push and pull romantic prompts

Co-workers - Hate to love

Lovers to enemies

Love to hate relationship

Romantic One-Liners Part I

Smutty One-Liners Part I + Part II + Part III

Physical One-Liners Part I +  Part II

Jealousy + Things said during sex prompts

Moving in together

OTP Christmas Prompts

Prompts about kissing

Romance Sentence Starters

Romantic Question Prompts

Domestic Fluff Prompts

Fluff Prompts

Romantic, non-sexual intimacy prompts

OT3 Prompts

OT3 ideas

Royalty Prompts - Loyal companion x Princess Romance

Royalty Prompts - Prince/ss x Commoner - Revealing royal heritage

Royalty Prompts - Knight x Princess

Fake Dating Royalty Prompts

Forbidden royal love prompts

Arranged matrimony for royalty

Arranged Marriage Royalty AU Events

Royal Arranged Marriage Dialogue Prompts

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Roommates to Lovers Prompts Part I + Part II

Professor/TA Romance

Friends with benefits to lovers Prompts

Flirting Prompts - Oblivious and flirty

Teasing Prompts

Unrequited Love Prompts

Dramatic/Break-up Dialogue Prompts

Romance Dialogue Prompts – Uncomfortable with affection

Matchmaking Prompts

Valentine’s Day Prompts

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Fake Dating Dialogue Prompts

Fake Dating AUs

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Touching

Physical Reactions

Casual Affections

Accidental Kisses

Love Confessions

Love confession - Screaming at each other

Drunken Love Confessions

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Ways to say ‘I love you’

Love Triangle Ideas

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Second chance trope

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Exes to lovers

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50 Cute Date Ideas

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Lover being hurt Prompts

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[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

kun x reader

bakery au

fluff

no lie, i was partially thinking about @weishenkonbini​‘s wayv penis post

[1:26 pm]

“congratulations on your huge penis, kun.”

“you… you want me to write that on your cake?”

“yes, definitely.”

you purse your lips, hand on your hip, staring at the order slip in front of you, still refusing to write down their custom message in the blank. 

“we’ll pre-pay,” the voice on the other end of the phone says helpfully. “i promise it’s not a prank.”

doubtful. there’s no way this isn’t a prank of some kind, even if the victim isn’t you. “fine then,” you sigh heavily. “can you repeat the message?”

“yeah. it’s… congratulations… on… your… huge… penis… comma… kun. that’s a comma like the punctuation mark, not the word.”

you’re sure you wouldn’t be sweating so much if this were a completely random prank by some total strangers, but you know kun. he drops by the bakery to grab a croissant and coffee for breakfast every morning, and a few times a week he’ll come in after work to pick up a slice of cake. he’s always kind and polite, and he’s very, very handsome. he’s so handsome that you’re never quite sure if he’s flirting with you when he leans on the counter and asks about your day, or if you’re just being delusional and looking at the interaction through hot-guy-goggles. you had even considered slipping your number in the sleeve of his coffee a few times, but never mustered up the courage.

now, you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to look him in the eye anymore. 

the caller, someone named liu yangyang, pays for the cake with his credit card and promises that kun will be around to pick up the cake later, a promise that you’re not particularly eager to see play out.

.

.

[6:02 pm]

the front door of the bakery jingles, signaling the entrance of a customer. you turn from the espresso machine to see kun walking through the door. you feel your mouth dry up.

“hi,” he smiles brightly at you. “busy day?”

“it’s winding down,” you tell him. “but it was a pretty standard day, i guess.”

kun nods sympathetically. god, he’s beautiful.

“medium iced americano,” you call out, sliding the plastic cup onto the counter and pressing the lid down. the only other customer in the store looks up from his phone, approaches the counter, grabs his coffee, and exits the store, leaving it empty save for you and kun. you look back up at him. 

“are you here to pick up your cake?”

“my what?” he stares at you, bewildered. his brows furrow in confusion.

“someone named liu yangyang called and bought a cake,” you explain, unsurprised when kun’s face instantly changes into a look of irritation at the mention of the name. “he said that you’d be by to pick it up. i’m guessing this is news to you?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he responds. “i only dropped by to grab a dessert for dinner.”

“he pre-paid, so you better take the cake anyways,” you sigh. you turn and grab the cardboard box from out of the fridge, all tied prettily with a ribbon. “here,” you set the box on the counter in front of him. “all yours.”

kun grabs one end of the ribbon holding the handles of the box together and tugs, unraveling the bow.

“you might want to wait to–” you start, but it’s too late. the white cardboard sides of the box fall apart, revealing the buttercream frosting inside and the neatly piped cursive words adorning the top of the cake.

kun stares down at the surface of the cake, face undecipherable. he stands in silence for a few seconds, his face and ears steadily flushing more and more red until his skin matches the strawberry frosting piped onto the cake. 

wordlessly, he closes up the box and lifts it off the counter. “um,” he says, blinking at the marble countertop, “thanks. i’ll, uh, get going.”

“sure thing,” you say as he turns and heads to the door. the back of his neck is flushed pink. he pushes the door open with a jingle of the bell, and you suddenly feel a strange rush of audacity fill you. “oh, and,” you call out just as he’s halfway out the door. a grin spreads across your face. “congratulations.”

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

hi mads! just wanted to drop by and ask for a bit of writing advice on how to show not tell in writing? i remembered that you once said that you liked to put the readers into the settings of your fics and i love how you do it, sucks me in every time. it's something i want to learn how to do in my own fics because damn do i like to 'tell' a lot. perhaps you have any advice on how to 'show' instead of straight-up telling?

I think this is something that definitely comes with time and practise. The more you experiment with writing and with ways to submerge your audience in the text, the more you develop and understanding of how to do that that becomes almost second nature.

Again, I say this every time, but it always comes back to sensory language and feelings.

Yes, it's cold outside. But how does that make the characters feel, what does that cold do to the buildings, to the trees? Are they frostbitten with the first thaw? Are they simply chilled to the touch? Does the winter air bite the skin, is it bitter? Or is it just nipping at your nose like it does in fall?

Yes, he cooked a meal, but what are the flavours? What is the scent? Does it remind the character of anything from their childhood? From their mother's cooking, or their grandmothers cooking?

Even if you start only doing this, asking yourself these questions, in certain parts of your stories to start off with and experimenting with the answers, you will slowly learn how this is employed in writing more easily!

People relate most to feelings. The feeling of cold, the feeling of heat, the feeling of sinking into a warm blanket at the end of a long day, the feeling of someone's arms around them. You can tell them that, but it doesn't sink in. It's almost clinical. And there are times where telling is fine, but showing in writing really equates more, to me, to feeling.

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

without warning / ldh

pairing: Lee Haechan x fem!Reader

There is always a certain breaking point to a habit. For you, it was Haechan and not falling in love. It just happened in the most unorthodox way.

word count: 8.6k

genre: college au, fluff, angst (a little bit)

notes: reader is besties w nomin :)

hi!!! a bit overdue, but happy birthday haechan! also my photoshop crashed so please bear with the banner until i can make one that i enjoy seeing lol hopefully its okay :) ! I hope you like it pleaase leave feedback!

—

You like to pride yourself on the fact that you’ve never played into the mushy love bullshit.

You’re a stark contrast from your best friends, Jeno Lee and Jaemin Na, who, when boiled down to it, are basically a married couple who love to employ plausible deniability. They’re constantly teaming up to tease you/comfort you/set you up on god awful blind dates, and they’re self-proclaimed hopeless romantics. Which means there’s virtually no room for your anti-romantic philosophies in the apartment you share.

No, literally. Your DVDs are all romcoms. Your Netflix list is all Nancy Meyers. Your library is all cheesy romance volumes, overshadowing your preferred type of literature. It’s living hell.

“Are you ready for a date draw?”

“There’s Craig Cruz from my Bio class, Matt Lennox who’s my TA, Brad Aoki from my Spanish elective, Rex Smith from debate club, aaaand Lucas Wong from my football team.” Jeno offers the names to you, and before you can even form a coherent response, Jaemin is quick to follow up.

“Oh, have I got a roster for you. Nathan Davis from Physics, Charles Bass from my golf club, Jason Rodriguez from Creative Writing, and my mentor’s son’s best friend, Mark Lee. He studies in California.”

Jeno and Jaemin have long arranged date draws for you: a night where you pick out the blind date of your dreams, based on their extensive CVs, handpicked by your depressingly single best friends. (Any/every girl they manage to charm is scared off by how early they drop the L bomb.)

From your place propped up on the sofa, you hum contemplatively. Clearly, the two guys are nervous and stressed to see whose recommendation you’re going to pick: it’s always like this on date draw night, because it’s become somewhat of a competition between them to see who’s going to find your soulmate. Half the guys they recommend suck, and the other half, just a little less.

You spoon Chunky Monkey into your mouth. “Moving on to the next round: Lennox, Wong, Bass, Lee. Two even.”

You can’t deny the way you enjoy these biweekly nights of picking out your next date, even if the results are usually poor. They buy you ice cream and popcorn and let you watch something that doesn’t revolve around a couple falling in love in the Midwest/Paris/New York City (you’ve had enough of it.)

You hear noises of triumph as they quickly crumple up the paper resumes they have on your rejections. “Let me hear about Bass first.” Jaemin lets out a small yes! as he pulls up his file on Bass, reading aloud from it.

“Rich, golfer, business major. His philanthropy involves animals, cute baby animals, and he wants to run for mayor of New York one day. Rundown of pros and cons—rich, owns houses in Europe, but we have an unclear visual on his political stance.”

“Does he wear suits and talk like a douche?”

Jaemin’s silence is affirmative, so you follow it up. “Who’s his role model?”

“…Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos. Said it himself on his Facebook biography.”

You gasp.

“God, Jaemin! You can’t just leave that out! What if I picked him?!” You heave a spoonful of Chunky Monkey again. “Gross. Bass, out. Jeno, you’re up.” Jaemin groans, crumpling Charles’ paper and catapulting it into the garbage across the room.

Jeno speaks up, elated. “I’ve got Mark Lee for you. My writing mentor’s son’s best friend. He’s a church guy, but I hear through the vine he’s freaky in the sheets”—at this, you audibly gag and remove your ring to chuck it at him—“and he’s super ambitious. Wants to become a writer, settle down in the city with kids. Voted for Biden, but dislikes Biden—that whole shindig. Con: Soundcloud rapper.”

“Sounds okay,” you grimace, attempting to ignore the last bit, “but is he willing to do this long distance thing? Opposite ends of the country?”

“I was thinking it might be ideal,” Jeno explains. “So you don’t have to face the clinginess all the time.”

“So he’s clingy,” you deadpan. You allow no room for explanation and wave him off. “Jaem, go.”

“Damn it,” curses Jeno under his breath, frustrated. Jaemin is quick to remedy his previous mistake, fast in his talking.

“Lucas Wong, basketball star. 6’0, born in Hong Kong, knows how to cook. Con: kind of a man whore.”

“I don’t slut shame,” you respond, intrigued. “Go on.”

Triumphant, he proceeds. “He’s delicious, man. I mean, I’m saying this so honestly right now. He’s also super caring, a Chem Engineering major, and constantly shares his decent political opinions online.”

You sit up. “Oh, my God. He’s perfect.”

“Right?!” Jaemin’s smile is wide and he’s so, so close to reaching his victory. It’s cut off rudely by Jeno’s knowing scoff.

“Please. Jaem, tell her the real con.”

“Real con?” You quirk a brow, your head cocking to the side. “Jaemin Na, what is the real con?”

He falters, spluttering. “It’s—it’s nothing. A minor setback.”

You spoon the last of your Ben & Jerry’s into your mouth. “Now, Jaemin!”

“He has a girlfriend,” he says fretfully, refusing to meet your sharp gaze. At this, you burst into a loud yell, throwing your hands up in the air. “What the hell, Jaem?! Second straw much?”

He hides his face from view, but you persist. “Jaemin! You were going to turn me into a homewrecker, you enabler! You should be asha—”

“Tell ‘em,” Jeno says with a scornful smile. You turn on him immediately, though, eyes fiery.

“Oh, like you didn’t know and chose to use it against him so you could win today’s date draw. You make me sick! Both of you. The next five date draws are cancelled.”

The words are uttered with a vile, ugly tone that sends your best friends into a downward spiral. It’s evident immediately, what with the way their faces fall instantly and Jeno’s is the epitome of the world flummoxed. They quickly turn to each other, vexation in their eyes as they begin to swat at each other.

Being of similar height, the swatting quickly intensifies, but Jeno’s tendency to poorly control his strength results in Jaemin hitting back twice as hard.

“—I was gonna remedy that before you ruined i—” Poke.

“How do you remedy an ongoing, committed relationship—?” Hit.

“I have my ways, Lee!” Swat.

“If you just let me get to my final recommendation I would’ve won, Na!” Slap, smack, strike.

You tsk disdainfully, walking away to dispose of your Chunky Monkey. Considering the kitchen isn’t too far from the living room, your ears quickly pick up on the progression of their fight: you hear more chaos, then it fades away. It takes you five minutes to drink a glass of water and wash your spoon, and when you return, they’re cuddled up to each other on the sofa watching Me Before You.

“Insane,” you mutter dismissively.

“No non-romance for you,” says Jeno, through a mouthful of popcorn. “Rejecting our picks.”

“That’s the angle you took? 2 versus 1? Instead of you and I teaming up against Jaemin for condoning homewrecking?”

He ignores you.

But you’re blissfully unaware that the events of tonight would lead to you meeting the guy who would reach far beyond the standard set by Lucas Wong, your one that got away, so you shut your bedroom door behind you and work instead.

—

Jeno and Jaemin’s cardinal rule when it comes to date draws is to not interact with any male presence in a flirtatious matter for at least a week to purge yourself of any potential matches, so that you can fully immerse yourself in the experience.

Knowing date draws happen every two weeks, this allows you only one week to fully appreciate any cute stranger in your life. Knowing that, this basically declines your flirting skills to a good 6. You’re well aware of the pretty privilege card you hold, so it’s all you have, because your smooth talking skills have well diminished.

So here you are, perched on a bench, staring at the opposite one intently. Sat on it is a tall, and handsome guy reading—oh, God—Arendt?

The grip you have on your Journalism supplementary book turns your knuckles white, your mind struggling to think of something to say. You curse under your breath as your body gets up on its own accord, your body walking to him and offering a stuffy smile.

“Hello,” you giggle, breathy.

“Hi,” he says, and you melt inside. He must be some sort of dreamboat.

You take a seat beside him, hesitant but spurred on by his smile. You introduce yourself quickly, and he tells you his name is Hyunjin, and that he’s a Humanities major. You sit in tense, but comfortable silence, intermittent smiles and hums of affirmation filling the void of the conversation.

“Are you a fan of Aren—”

“You’re hot,” you say in one breath. What the hell.

“Oh,” says Hyunjin dumbly. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. You are. So gorgeous.”

He smiles, politely now instead of warmly, and makes up a shit excuse to save himself, walking away quickly. You groan inwardly at your mishap, slamming your textbook against your forehead in frustration.

This is one of many reasons you detest date draws.

—

You make your anger clear to Jeno and Jaemin by refusing to cook them Friday dinner. All of you can cook fairly well, but perhaps because of your natural affinity with a cookbook, you’re magical at it. So, every Friday is reserved for your amazing cuisine and the rest of the week is devoted to takeout and the others’ subpar cooking skills.

“You promised you’d cook us bibimbap,” gripes Jaemin. “Jeno and I miss home. How do you expect us to survive in a city populated by white people?!”

“Well, find a Korean restaurant and order a bowl for yourselves,” you say cuttingly. “I’m still upset over the entire date draw catastrophe from two days ago. I tried flirting with a cute guy today and, thanks to your cardinal rule, failed.”

“But you make good bibimbap,” sobs Jeno theatrically, ignoring the latter part of your sentiment.

You narrow your eyes and swat them both with your textbook. “I’m dying alone with my eggs shriveled up, and I want you both to know it’s all your fault.”

You tell them the full tale of your foiled coquetry from earlier that day, and they stifle guffaws behind their clenched fists. You hit them again, for good measure.

“You love us.”

“I hate you,” you say sharply.

—

“I love you guys. I’m serious,” you say delightedly, scooping more frozen yogurt into your mouth. You’re spending your Saturday in the Upper West, shifting through ice cream parlors and corner cafes and halal delis and watching Jeno show off his skateboarding skills. You’d stopped at a small frozen yogurt joint where you found the cups to be way too overpriced, and upon your defeat, instead found that an extended February 14 promo meant a couple gets one cup for free.

The plan was crafted ingeniously: you and Jeno would hug subtly to show that you were a couple, playing into the heteronormative bias of the cashier, and get two cups with unlimited toppings for the price of one.

However, in the middle of your planning, the shifts changed and the new cashier found Jaemin and Jeno to appear more lovey-dovey, revising the plan on the spot.

“Very cute. Love is love,” the middle-aged woman says. Jeno nods, smiling and holding Jaemin closer, despite the poorly disguised grimace on his face. You play along, a stuffy smile on yours.

So it goes that you get one for yourself and the other two fight over theirs, wooden spoons clacking against each other as they fight over the yogurt.

“Love you both, so so much,” you say happily. “So much.”

“Real quick, does this mean date draws are back o—”

“No,” you retort.

“Yeah. That checks.”

You glare at the mere suggestion, averting your attention back to your yogurt. Humiliation still courses through you, blazing your every thought with your fiasco at the park. Hyunjin is probably having a permanent freakout over your foolishness, and in your frantic attempt to pin the blame on somebody other than yourself, the fault falls on your two best friends.

Not even frozen yogurt can help it. But it’s getting there.

—

Your designated bench at the park is yours for a reason. It captures the breeze perfectly, and the sunlight filters just right through the trees overhead. You get a good view of the buildings, and the nearest exit gives you just a ten minute walk to your apartment. Granted, it’s “your bench” from 2PM to 6PM, since any other hour you’re either home or at class.

Yours anyway. Blissfully empty. Except it’s 1:15PM and somebody’s sitting on it.

“Hey—do you mind?” You gesture to the empty side of the bench and the guy sitting waves you off with a polite nod. Smiling calmly, you take a seat and draw out your study materials, getting to work on your latest news piece.

The sun is high and the park gets the brunt of it, heat surging through the walkways. Damn early classes. Now it’s too hot. You pout in mild frustration but continue anyway.

You’re in the middle of typing out your concluding paragraph, and your mind is in the middle of thinking of dinner, froyo, and the ducks at the lake altogether, when your train of thought is tersely cut off.

“Hey, aren’t you the girl who flirted with that guy on that bench? Like, four days ago?”

Fear floods your body and renders you frozen, your head inching bit by bit to face your certified day ruiner. Your eyes land on a guy about your age, nose buried in a Murakami book. He quirks a brow, beguiled by your sudden reaction. “So. Are you?”

Your jaw drops open, mouth spluttering for something logical to say. “Er, yeah.”

He laughs loudly, an unabashed guffaw leaving his mouth. “Woah. That sucked.”

“Did it really?” Your woeful tone catches his attention, his head whipping in your direction.

“Yeah—I mean, I’m not trying to insult you or anything. But I—”

“No, it’s okay,” you muse. “I’m just getting really bad at flirting.” You turn to him, a polite smile on your lips.

He smiles back. “Hyunjin’s an acquaintance of mine, you know. If you want another chance. He liked you.”

Your heart beats impossibly fast. Dangling in front of you is your chance at redemption, a date, possibly getting laid, and above all, proving to Jeno and Jaemin that you do not need their godforsaken date draws to find love.

You’re halfway through this epiphany when you realize—

“Who are you?” You blurt out, confused. “Sorry. I mean, what’s your name? I just met you and it feels like you already know me.”

“That’s ‘cause I do—I mean, when you flirted with Hyunjin, I was just over there”—he points at a nearby bench—“and then after it happened, I just saw your name being dropped on the groupchat.”

“I was made into groupchat material,” you fret. “That’s like, the worst of the worst.”

“Not really—it was talked about for five minutes tops and then somebody mentioned a deadline, so. I’m Haechan, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say simply. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. I was just. It sucked.”

“Sucked is an understatement,” says Haechan through gritted teeth. “Anyway, if you want a second date, I’d be happy to arrange that.”

You bite your lip, weighing the pros and cons in your head. You could earn yourself a new boyfriend and turn the flirting affliction into a meet cute story, but it could also go to shit. You could get laid, but who knows if he took some sort of celibacy vow. You don’t need a boyfriend, but you desperately need to prove your two best friends wrong.

“I’m in,” you say. “It has to be the best date ever. I’m talking dinner, a walk, a sports game, that whole thing.”

“Are you suggesting I help you arrange that?”

Roping a stranger into your dating agenda was definitely not on your list of things to try in your junior year.

But, well. “I’m graciously asking you to.”

—

Haechan Lee, you quickly learn, is an energetic, bubbly, class clown-y Econ major. He laughs at that’s what she said jokes and doubles over every time he sees the numbers 69 and 420, especially if he sees them consecutively (not hard, given the city’s size.)

You learn over the course of three coffee outings that he takes all his coffee with three extra shots of espresso. (He tries to make you freak out using this fact, but you combat it with Jaemin’s all time record of eight shots.)

You find out he always separates the corn bits in fried rice, and that he’s an oversharer. It’s obvious he is, considering you’d known all this prior information in the course of just seven days.

Maybe you just like to observe a little more, too, but that’s besides the point.

“I’m thinking you attend a Yankees game, dinner, then a Hudson boat ride. Hyunjin likes that stuff. He won’t admit it, he wants people to think he’s a rugged New York man, but he likes to get fancy. I’m saying this like we’re best friends, but. You get it. Boat, sports, the works,” he says through a mouthful of pad thai.

“I’m thinking you chew your food before talking,” you comment pointedly, and he nods, swallowing. You continue. “That’s nice, but I’m broke and I’m not willing to spend my existing money on a date. I said extravagant…ly cheap.”

“Boo,” he laughs. “I could get you Yankees tickets for free. Then…you split dinner and you rent the boat.”

“Perfect,” you say victoriously. Then. “This is weird. This is full on Pavlov-ing.”

“Mmm, no. Pavlov was the dog guy. Conditioning? Sound? Yeah, er, this is Cyrano-ing.”

You nod in agreement. “Nerd”—you gesture to him—“hot dude”—you gesture to yourself—“nerd helps me get the hotter girl. AKA Hyunjin.”

“If I’m going to be branded a nerd, this isn’t going to work out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

—

18 days until: JUNE 8 DATE DAY!!!!

You smile amusedly at the reminder ping on your phone that Haechan had set up for you. When you look up, the smile is quickly extinguished by Jaemin and Jeno’s trenchant expressions, piercing right through you.

“What are you smiling at?” asks Jaemin with faux nonchalance.

“A TikTok,” you fib easily. “Something about the whole Paeka issue.”

The conversation switches easily to the issue you’d mentioned, and soon Jeno and Jaemin forget you had even smiled at your screen, playing Call of Duty on their Xbox and leaving you to your own devices.

U busy? You read when you’re done downing a packet of Caprisun.

No, you type back. See u.

You’re well acquainted with Haechan at this point, having seen him regularly over the course of the past week. You’re growing less and less unused to the sight of him on the bench you’d previously branded as your own.

“Hello, Cyrano,” he says with a cunning smile. “Since we’re both free, I thought you’d like to know more about Hyunjin. Also, when I’m with you, I get free food because you get hungry so much.”

“It’s easy to fall into the quirky cafe temptations in the city,” you remark. “Isn’t the date supposed to make me get to know him?”

“Yeah, but remember—this is all for Jeno and Jaemin.”

You’d established your objective for this entire master plan of a date three days ago. As handsome as Hyunjin is, you know you’ll probably find some minor flaw about him and fixate on that. So, your motive is to charm him into maybe a fling-sized relationship so Jeno and Jaemin would lay off your back.

Working? So far. Ish.

“Alright, so Hyunjin Hwang, HH, HHJ, HJ, Jinnie, Jin, Hyunnie, he has lots of names ‘cause he’s popular. Philosophy major, writing legend, blazer wearer. Smartass. Hipster.”

“So every guy then,” you deadpan with an enigmatic smile.

“See, you get it!” He sits up a little, “For that, I’d like a cup of coffee.”

—

You spend the next week and a half bent over your master plan Google doc, which Haechan covertly names SEX TOY RECOMMENDATIONS :P under your name. Really, not at all infuriating. You find it funny, though, and it stays like that the entire time.

On the first day, Haechan sends you a Starbucks drink. Scrawled on it is the name Dildo, and you groan and hide it with your own Sharpie, lest one of your best friends find it in the disposal.

On the second day, Haechan introduces you to his dog. His height and his build gives you an impression that his dog would be, maybe, a bulldog or a Lab. Instead he approaches your usual park bench with a tiny, tiny Pomeranian in his hands, attached to a pink leash.

“This is Genghis Olaf,” he states proudly, his eyes crinkling with his smile of adoration.

“She’s very c—” you cut yourself off with your own chortle, attempting uselessly to hide it behind your sweater-clad hand. “She’s cute, I swear,” you breathe between bouts of laughter. “Just. Her name is what?”

“Genghis Olaf,” he says seriously. “A very nice name for my strong dog.”

“She looks so tiny, though,” you coo, but she bites deeply into your finger when you attempt to pet her. Haechan’s laugh rings treacherously in your ears.

On the third day, you watch Annabelle: Creation on Netflix Party. He makes big talk of not being scared, but half the time his camera is shielded by his blanket.

On the fourth day, you admit your unabashed love for Taylor Swift’s music, and Haechan admits his for One Direction. You sing Dear John and replace the “green eyes” lyric with “brown”, and it makes Haechan blush. He sings Drag Me Down and matches Harry’s high note.

—

On the fifth day, your meeting place deviates from one section of the park to another, to avoid the spookily overcast weather.

“It’s not so rainy here,” rejoices Haechan, doing a small happy dance. You roll your eyes and sit beside him.

You make it a good ten minutes with your laptops open working both on Hyunjin and your own schoolwork before you notice droplets of water growing more and more frequent on the spreadsheet you’d pulled up.

“Oh, shit,” you curse, wiping it hastily and stuffing it into your bag. Haechan follows suit, but the nearest exit is a ways to go.

“Could you run any faster?!” You wail, covering your head with your tote bag, to no avail. Your hair gets the brunt of it, and so does your black tee, since the mild drizzling intensifies into heavy rain within seconds.

“Sorry I’m trying to protect my phone!” He cries back, maneuvering between garbage cans and other people in your way who have actual umbrellas.

You make it out, though, after a chaotic five minutes, and you’re one subway ride from your apartment. Haechan’s is way nearer, though, so you part, both absolutely soaked.

Before you do, he tugs a dry shirt out of his bag. “You might get sick. God knows what kind of bacteria you contract with wet cloth in the subway. Maybe even murder evidence.” He plays it off but your heart blooms with gratitude, taking it.

“Thanks, dumbass.”

You skip the sixth day and meet on the seventh.

You’d officially grown used to each other’s company, nearing three weeks of knowing each other. You swap your usual park bench for a cafe, but on the cab ride there, Haechan constantly changes his mind.

It’s Indian first, then Thai, then American, then Korean. Then Chinese. Then coffee.

“We’ve been in this cab for ages,” you whisper-yell. “Have some shame!” But he doesn’t, persistently switching the destination. It turns into a minor roadtrip around the Upper East. You pull out your laptop to work on a paper.

It only stops when Haechan abruptly yells for it to, so he can puke his guts out. Well. At least you know he’s carsick now.

—

“Yours, hers, mine,” Jaemin says, gesturing to the folded piles of fresh laundry. “She’s never even home anymore, lately. I miss her bibimbap.”

“Could you just get to folding the clothes so I can play Overwatch with Sungie?”

“You don’t care that our best friend is never home?!” Jaemin’s voice is saturated with offense and betrayal. “She’s probably out partying.”

“You mean having fun, like people our age should,” corrects Jeno sternly. “Don’t be so worried and hand me that gray shirt.”

Jaemin grumbles, but does so, despite the reluctance in his actions. “Who knows what she’s mixing herself with out there? New York is a danger zone. Scaffolding is lethal enough.”

Jeno folds up the tee with an amused scowl on his face. “You know, she’s having fun, doing schoolwork, and if she’s happy, we’re happy. That’s how best friends operate.”

Across him, Jaemin pouts. He knows this is true, and beneath the petty feelings he harbors, he’s genuinely happy that you’re having fun. “I guess,” he grouches. “But I hope she’s not sad we cancelled date draws.”

“Temporary cancellation,” Jeno says. “Also, I doubt she’s sad. She insisted we cancel it. She ordered the cancellation, so. Shirt.” He chucks the folded tee into Jaemin’s pile.

“Touche,” sighs the latter, “but I gu—hey, what? This isn’t mine, dipshit.”

“Oh,” Jeno says. “It’s mine, then.”

“Wh—it’s not yours, either.” He unfolds it to reveal the faded, bleached pattern of the Sex Pistols logo, and they squint.

“Not mine,” says Jeno quietly. “Guess it’s hers.” He tosses it onto your pile, but Jaemin snatches it before it lands.

“No way it’s hers,” he comments, inspecting it. “She’s never worn this, and it’s not branded, but she hasn’t gone thrifting in a while. She did last week, and this wasn’t in her haul.”

“So? Some band geek’s laundry got mixed up with ours,” Jeno says, but Jaemin’s quicker to come to a different conclusion.

“Are you kidding? It’s the third week of the month. She got it washed herself at the laundromat self service. This is from our apartment. Is this what you think—are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jeno nods slowly.

“Say it, on three,” says Jaemin. “Go!”

“A guy is living in our ceiling!”

“She snuck someone into our house!”

“She snuck—yeah, that’s way more likely.”

—

On the eighth day, Haechan texts you to meet him at an entirely different part of the park. You get there, confusion written all over your face, and find him sprawled across the grass, denim-clad legs splattered with yellow paint and glitter.

“Hello,” you say, “I’m not at all confused by what I’ve walked into.”

“In exchange for being your Cyrano nerd,” he begins theatrically, “I only ask one thing.”

“All the cups of coffee I’ve bought you?”

“I only ask several things,” he remedies. “Coffee and your help with my little sister’s crafts project.”

You eye the expanse of white canvas on the grass, untouched by Haechan’s skills, or, rather, his lack thereof. You roll your eyes.

“Okay. What do you need to paint?”

“Anything yellow,” he says. “New York preschool art teachers are super hipster, so their assignments are graded on a college basis. I’m half-joking.”

“What makes you think I want to help you?”

“Your date thinks so.”

“I suck at crafts, Haechan.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Now, paint!”

You take the brush and get to work, dirtying yourself up in the process. By the end of it, you’ve crafted a kiddy-sized abstract masterpiece, dizzyingly yellow and sunny and bright. It’s just a bunch of brush strokes and fingerprints in a vast array of yellow, but you’re sure it’s a show stopper, since Haechan’s little sister is a five-year-old.

“If your sister is stamped a prodigy after this, I get a portion of her earnings.”

You beam down at Haechan, but you miss the way his gaze lingers on you for just a second, smearing a brushful of canary paint on his face.

A second.

Considering he’s the sole reason you talk to Haechan, you don’t remember the last time you talked about Hyunjin. You don’t mind, though, running along the open grass while flinging all sorts of shades of sun onto Haechan’s face.

—

“Honeys, I’m home!” You yell, dusting dried paint off the hem of your jeans. You deposit your keys at the entrance and make your way to the kitchen, sliding your shoes off. “What’s for dinner?”

“Thai, with a side of betraya—oomph!” You can’t catch Jaemin’s last word, Jeno’s elbow hitting his gut before he can enunciate it.

“Thai, with a side of biryani. Sounds perfect, you two,” you swoon with an appreciative smile. “Bibimbap next week, I promise!”

“Yup,” Jeno says through a strained breath. “Go get changed, you!”

You shrug off the odd behavior and follow suit, shucking your clothes off once you’re alone. You spot a neat, folded pile of fresh laundry at the foot of your bed and stop in your tracks upon seeing the familiar gray one atop it.

You touch it, a little hesitant. Jaemin and Jeno must’ve seen this, then. Your heart races inexpainably quick at the possibilty that the insinuation would be that you were dating the owner of the shirt.

But then again, Jeno and Jaemin probably couldn’t care less. You shrug indifferently, chucking the tee into your bag for Haechan’s taking tomorrow and walking back into the kitchen.

“Where’s the biryani?” You ask, confused, upon seeing its absence at the table. Jeno shrugs and mumbles some excuse about it being unavailable, and Jaemin grumbles a quiet agreement.

You eat in silence for a while. “How’s class, you two?”

“My professor,” says Jaemin, cutting off what Jeno had already opened his mouth to say, “was revealed to be in an affair this morning. It’s wild, honestly.” He rolls up the sleeves of his mint sweater. You gape through a mouthful of khao pad, brows raised. “Do tell,” you say simply, intrigued.

“Well, he was happily married to his wives—wife, his wife, and then he turned and had a nasty affair and now he can’t even face the betrayal he committed. Neither can the wife,” he says quickly, his voice laced with truth and hurt.

You nod slowly. “So. That’s it? No sordid mistress? Murder ploy? Money?”

Jaemin shakes his head, pouting. “None. Just plain”—he stares right at you—“betrayal.”

You nod again, and then your thoughts are full of khao pad.

—

Haechan picking up your dry cleaning, paying for three cabs, and accompanying you on three coffee runs is the only cause of your current predicament. Not debt—you’re not so unfortunate there, thankfully—but something much worse. See, you liked Haechan. You’d spent so much time around him it was dizzying, and he was funny and a great friend.

Which meant you’d do any minor favor for him. Which means—this. It means this. And that is how you find yourself seated on a neon green beanbag listening to a roster of Soundcloud rappers on a JBL speaker.

The room is lit only by a string of pink LED lights and the light emanating from the PC setup on the desk, shades of blue and purple radiating from it.

There are teddy bears strewn around the room, almost as many as there are Nike shoes that look extremely obscure and/or expensive. This is a very specific brand of person you’re dealing with. You take a drag from the joint in your mouth, eyeing the other contraband drugs on the desk but ignoring them for the sake of yourself.

Who else would own this kind of room—closed off, dark, lit by neon illumination only? You don’t need to look far. Spray painted in a glow in the dark green on the opposite wall is the name—

“Yangyang!” Haechan hollers when the former finally swings the door open. “Thought you’d never return. You were gone for, like, an hour.”

True enough, he was. He’d apparently left to fetch his wallet in his friend’s dorm, but never came back, granting you and Haechan plenty of time to plan for Hyunjin—well, talk, actually.

“I’ve gotta go again. Sorry, you two. Enjoy the ganja. Haechan, don’t leave yet. You have that favor you owe me!”

He slams the door shut again and you stifle a laugh. “I’ll get going if you don’t mind.”

“No,” he pleads. “We can exploit the weed and the air conditioning and everything.”

“Fine,” you say, because you weren’t planning on leaving at all. “Let’s plan.”

“Nice. Hey, you know I used to own a bear just like that?” He deviates from your suggested subject, probably unconsciously, but you find yourself being grateful for it. You follow his finger to the bear leaning against the wall opposite you, a huge brown one.

You hum. “Did you also spray paint red Xs over the eyes?”

“Yes, and on the genitals,” he says with a loud laugh. “God, no. My mom was always iffy about that stuff. We grew up well. Here in the city, I mean. Brownstone and everything. My little sister still has that life, but…yeah.” He dismisses the topic and you nod.

“I get it,” you say, leaning back and taking a drag. “Well, I don’t, but. I do.”

“Yeah. I miss my mom, and my dad hates my guts, so that’s that. I just find all the solace of the world in my sister.”

“She loves you, Haech,” you say quietly, a small smile on your face. He chuckles.

“I know she does. Me, though—I’m never good with that stuff. Gotta practice saying it somehow.” He turns to you, quiet. Then.

“I love you.”

The world slows, time melting into an indistinguishable, homogenous blob of pink and green and weed. You feel like you just ingested one of the smiley faces on Yangyang’s desk, if you’re honest. You open your mouth to respond but your eyes catch on the way his mouth is slowly curving into a smile, and you lose yourself in it. Your body bubbles in confusion and indifference—why the fuck are you so affected?

He grins. “So? Sounded genuine? I hate you, by the way. Can’t have you getting the wrong idea.”

Then the world ticks back into normal speed, a haze of lights and teddy bears, and you regain composure. “No. You sounded like a Republican apologizing.”

You brush him off, but the thought of him plagues you all the way home.

—

You dogsit Genghis Olaf for the first time on the tenth day of your planning.

You’d rather not talk about it.

—

Last edited 12 days ago stares cunningly back at you as you open the starkingly empty Google doc of your date plan. You tsk at the lack of progress, but inwardly, you don’t mind so much.

Your past weeks with Haechan have been busy, and eventually they grew to be less about Hyunjin and more about genuine conversations between the two of you. You’re not dumb. You know where this is leading—and normally, you’d start to shy away from it.

You’ve got six days until June 8th, and you can’t seem to remember the details of that date for the life of you. Your thoughts are just full of Haechan’s jokes, Haechan’s dog’s new dress, Haechan, Haechan.

It’s devastating. “—are you listening to me?” Haechan’s voice flows abruptly from your laptop, which rests on your bed. You hum loudly to say yes, pulling on a hoodie and taking a seat to show yourself on camera.

“Actually, I wasn’t. What were we talking about?” He groans at this statement, raising his brows in frustration and poking his tongue through his cheek. He does that a lot. It’s—

Your door swings open and, like clockwork, you slam your laptop shut, feigning nonchalance and getting up.

The thing is, you haven’t ever thought of Haechan in that way. In a non-platonic way. (Half truth.) But around friends like Jeno and Jaemin, who love to twiddle with stories until they’re worthy of Nora Ephron films, you can’t ever keep your mouth open, lest they think of Haechan as some sort of soulmate of yours.

So your rendezvous with him were kept a perpetual secret, and the shirt you had never returned was laundered in secret. You weren’t necessarily ready to tell them about Haechan Lee, because it would mean chronicling the past three weeks of spending all your days together.

So. “Were you watching porn?”

“Wh—what?! Jeno, you’re sick!” You toss a throw pillow at him and he catches it, scoffing.

“Porn is nothing to be ashamed of!” He yells back. “I’m just saying, if you shut your laptop so defensively, you were probalt watching porn, or…” He narrows his eyes and makes a beeline for your desk, but you’re quicker.

You jump onto his back, estimating his strength perfectly and putting enough weight on him that he slows down but stays standing. “Get off me, you nympho! Probably watching foot fetish porn, but I don’t—oomph—judge!”

“Get away from my laptop, Jeno Lee!” You wail, digging a nail into his arm so he curses and stops. He mumbles in pain and an I’ll get back at you before jogging out of your room, ensuring your victory.

—

It’s 2AM and you’re an hour from home. It’s windy, too—that fact would prevail by a lot if they had a competition deciding what was most obvious. Your hair whips across your face until you splutter and resort to tying it up. Also, you’re on the 70th floor of a building, sprawled across the cement rooftop. That would probably win the competition.

You’re also in Haechan’s arms. Now, that—okay, you’re done with this whole hypothetical fact competition.

But subjectively, it’s nice, you know that well enough. It’s nice to be out at 2AM on a cold, windy night, 70 floors above the city, and it’s so nice to be resting your head against Haechan’s chest, arms loosely wrapped around your figure as he hums a song that you recommended to him.

The rational part of your head is reeling over in shock and offense. The other is—well. In Haechan’s arms. “It’s 2,” you say, “in the morning, Haech.”

“So?”

“I’m sleepy. And you dragged me up here.”

He laughs with incredulity, and you can’t help but join him. You both know that while it was suggestion to check it out, you’d been just as complacent, since the words Hey, wanna go up to the 70th floor of my friend’s dad’s uncle’s building? just seemed to ignite a thrill in you that caused you to nod.

“Then I’ll drag you down and to the subway and come back up here myself.”

“But,” you say, sitting up. He lets his arms fall and you turn, facing him. Your faces are way closer than you expected, and while you take a sharp breath inwards, you make no move away. “Then you’ll have fun without me.”

“Then stay,” he says. It sounds like he means something else.

You gulp. “If I stay, we should plan for, um. Hyunjin, then.”

Something you can’t describe, and you barely catch, quivers through his gaze, but he blinks and looks away, getting up quickly. You lose your balance, following suit, confusion written across your features at the way he’s acting.

“No kidding,” he chuckles. “What else do we need to plan?”

“Dinner? I—I don’t know. I was joking.”

“You probably really want this date, so. It’s in a few days, you know?” You nod, but your thoughts are roaring something else entirely. “Haechan, I—”

“Well, there’s a good Italian place near your apartment. I’ll text you the address. Settled. Let’s go.”

He bends back down to tug his bag up from the floor, and you’re hit with a sudden rush of vertigo, your confusion and the cold and your racing thoughts hitting you instantaneously. Your hair flattens against your face and you rake it back. “I’m—are you—is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asks Haechan carefully, eyeing you.

You splutter. “I’m just asking.”

“It is,” he says, smiling. It’s forced. You can tell.

“It’s not,” you say, stepping closer.

“I’m serious. It is.” There’s soft solemnity in his face, but his gaze betrays it, flitting everywhere but your face.

“Haech—”

“Let’s just finish planning and, um, we can go back to being acquaintances.”

“Just tell me what it is, Haechan.”

“I—” he laughs, and it’s mirthless. “You don’t get it?”

You shrug, rolling your eyes. “Stop being so damn weird, face me, and answer me so I can.”

“I can’t look at you, goddamn it. I can’t see you, I can’t touch you, I can’t laugh around you, I can’t crack a joke around you. I can’t even mention your name. It—I. I don’t. I don’t know why, okay? I just—you’re so cool. You’re amazing, and you’re everything, and you’re funny and flawed, and bright and weird and hilarious and every other adjective I can’t think of right now. And when I see you, I feel all of that. I feel it all.

And it sucks, b—well, because, well, seeing you means hearing about Hyunjin, and everyday I think—what if it was different? What if. What if it was—I—fuck. I like you, okay? God, I do. I mean, who—wow. You’re just.”

He turns to the front of the building. “I like her!” He shouts. “And it feels good to finally tell you, but now, I just—I don’t—I.” He faces you, eyes hopeful, eyes sorrowful, and you open your mouth to form a reply.

It falls silent. It stays silent for a while.

—

JENO + JAEMIN’S Certified Heartbreak Checklist!!!

ben & jerry’s (preferred flavors: chunky monkey, cherry garcia)

taylor swift/early 2000s/dance music

feel-good movie i.e clueless, mean girls, 13 going on 30, superbad, project x

a round of call of duty with amateurs to make you feel better

sob session

“I don’t need this,” you say through a wad of snot. “I’m not heartbroken. I’m just confused.”

Jeno looks over to Jaemin, panic written all over his face. Jaemin mends it quickly, grabbing a Sharpie from the counter and scribbling over the word heartbreak, replacing it with the word Feelings?, much to your confusion. He does a bad job of it, though, and after he does it it looks more like Heartings?

“I’m okay,” you insist fruitlessly. You’d been crying your eyes out for two days, knowing not much other ways to cope with such a frighteningly confusing situation. You’d made a list of pros and cons before realizing you didn’t need any. You wrote down a speech for how to respond to Haechan, and you’d gone all over your usual meeting spots to recite it to him.

You couldn’t find him, for the life of you. You’d gone back home instead and recited a play by play of the events in your head.

“I hate myself.”

“Don’t. Haechan’s probably just not ready.”

Minor detail: you’d also spilled the totality of your predicament to Jeno and Jaemin, whose faces morphed from giddy to anguished to confused and back, much like your feelings. While this eliminated the need to hide Haechan’s existence from them, it also opened to you the copious amount of unsolicited advice.

You rack your head to try and find ways to apologize to him. That night, faced with bewilderment and feelings, you’d gasped in air until you couldn’t, shoving the exit open and running down flight after flight of stairs.

By the time the adrenaline had worn off, you’d just made it about six floors down. You took the elevator the rest of the way and kept hoping he would enter.

It sucked. However you chose to react, it was your mistake to remedy, and you didn’t quite know how. You still don’t.

You wallow in self pity and puzzlement and a spoon of Cherry Garcia before Jaemin bounds out of his room and into yours, smile broad on his face. “Yo, dude. I just saved your life.”

“Whose? Mine, I hope,” says Jeno offhandedly, walking into your room holding a slice of pizza. Jaemin glares at him.

“No, you dumbass. Hers.”

“Not to invalidate, but looking at my grades makes me feel like my life needs major saving.”

Ignoring him, Jaemin continues. “Listen—Haechan Lee, the guy you fucked over”—this earns him a flick of ice cream—“you want to apologize, right? But you never knew his exact address. But I’m telling you now. It’s his birthday, and…”

You’re sure Jaemin says the details afterwards, but your mind sticks itself onto the fact that it’s Haechan’s birthday: a fact he’d never told you before, and one you’d never thought to ask about. It’s his birthday. Birthday. His birthday. June 6th. It makes sense, and not even in an astrological point of view. It just does.

“I’m going,” you state blindly, getting out of bed immediately. “Now.”

—

Haechan’s apartment, you quickly learn, is a very nice one with nice windows and nice doors and a nice guest list. You heave the door open, Jeno and Jaemin teetering behind you, and find a room full of people. You tug it back shut instantly, nerves pulsating through you like a bad drug.

“I can’t,” you lament, biting your lip. Jaemin tugs on a lock of your hair.

“Don’t be a pussy and do it,” Jeno says sternly. “Own up.”

You pout, but push it open again and slip inside, your two friends following suit. You weave your way through the crowd and find groups scattered along the wide area—beer pong, weed, making out, there’s a space for everything. Judging by the way Jaemin and Jeno leave your side instantly, probably single hotties, too.

Your heart thumps with uncertainty, but it mellows down after ten minutes of futile search attempts. Every time you think it’s him, your heart leaps to your throat, but it never is.

So you take it as a sign. He’s probably getting laid in one of the two closed bedrooms, or buying more booze outside. You find your two henchmen—friends—in a throng of people playing Uno and tell them you’d be back.

You navigate the building’s elevator buttons until you find the rooftop one and wait in idle silence. Of course, he’s waiting on the other side when it opens.

His back is turned to you and you’re feet apart, the wide expanse of the rooftop separating you. You press the close button furiously, not ready to confront another rooftop confession yet.

A nasty deja vu cascades through you, and you shiver. The doors are closed for one minute and then they ding open, and you see him on the other side, and God he looks great. He’s in a black polo and black jeans and somebody’s written birthday boy on the space on his cheek, underneath his eye.

He enters the elevator, swallowing and clearing his throat. It smells like him. It’s stuck to his clothes.

“I’m sorry.” The starking silence is broken and in your shock, you can’t form a reply. Your head turns to him fast, eyes unblinking.

“Don’t,” you say, and then you inhale, deep. “Don’t be. I am. I—”

“But I’m—”

“Let me talk.” You say, facing him. You realize everything you’ve wanted to say is stored in your rigid script, so you take a deep breath and let it all out. To hell with being eloquent.

“I got nervous. I got—I got shocked, I got confused. The truth is, I’ve been running in circles trying to figure out how I feel for you. I mean, you’re funny. You’re cool and you’re—I don’t know, you’re just.” You take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from rambling. “Okay. Well, I like you, too, and I like you a lot, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I like you! I have nobody to yell this to, but you, but you’re the only person who needs to know right now. I like you. And I like liking you. And I like not planning this date on June 8th because I don’t want Hyunjin. And—I don’t know—I’m scared, that maybe this will all go to shit, because I suck at these stuff, and so do you, but I don’t know, it feels like if I try, it won’t be so bad.”

Obviously, when you look back up at him, he’s sporting a shit-eating smirk.

“Happy birthday to me,” he says, and then you’re kissing him so he’ll shut up.

Your hands find his face, trailing your touch everywhere so you can feel the change of texture when you encounter the eyeliner smudged beneath his eye, the moles dotted across his face. He smiles into the kiss, deepening it, his hands finding your waist to bring you closer to him. It’s a kiss you’ve wanted for always, but one you never knew you’d wanted. It’s a soft kiss, but a deep one, one with laughs and one with breaths that smell of ice cream and mint. (Not cigarettes, as you later learn: he was just watching one of his friends smoke and the scent stuck to him.)

“Give it up,” you mumble. “I hate you.”

“That’s very contradictory, considering I just received the best gift of my life.”

“Well, you’re about to get another one.”

—

It’s the 8th of June, and Hyunjin sits alone at the dinner table, wondering why Haechan, the guy from the groupchat whom he barely even knew, called him out of the blue and requested to meet him. The restaurant looked fancy, and expensive, and he began to feel nervous at the propect of having to pay for a meal.

He’s been waiting for ten minutes now, and both him and the waiters are beginning to grow antsy. He’s ordered water maybe six times, and to be honest, he’s getting a little pissed.

And then. “Hwang? Hyunjin Hwang?” He looks up, eyes gleaming in relief and then in bewilderment at his companions for the night. Politely, he cocks his head to the side, running a hand through his hair.

“Hi, do I know y—”

“Jaemin Na. This is Jeno Lee. We understand you’re in need of a date.” Two guys clad in matching black tees sit on either side of him, voices loud despite the quiet aura of the restaurant. Hyunjin doesn’t know how to react.

“I’m really not, y—”

“Trust us.” Jeno slams a manila folder on the desk, and opposite him, so does Jaemin. “We are high-tier selectors of love interests. Our past clients…client, rather, is extremely content with their love life.”

“Because you recommended their soulmate?” asks Hyunjin, confused.

“Well…no. Actually, she met her boyfriend elsewhere. But that’s besides the point.” Jaemin extracts ten papers from his folder and Jeno follows suit.

“Hyunjin Hwang, are you ready for a date draw?”

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

ocean vuong on writing metaphors

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

[10:25pm]

pairing: lee haechan x reader

genre: slice of life, fluff, cf2l

wc: 541

warnings: one swear word!

taglist: @perhapsthanatos @neotism @koishua @ilovjaehyun @reiichann @floraljae + taglist form

The cement steps in front of your house feel cool, the small stones and bumps imprinting themselves into your skin like a pattern. Haechan stood a few feet away, conversing with the ice cream man as he prepared a chocolate cone and banana split, laughing loudly at a story the man tells him with a smile.

The lights had gone out a couple minutes ago, resulting in your neighbors coming out to sit on their front steps or on foldable chairs. The only light came from the moon and ice cream truck, which played a cheerful tune that you knew would stay in your head for a couple of days. You felt warm, but a wind that was cool enough to make it bearable came every so often. You looked down at your knees, your pointer finger running over the multiple scrapes on the skin from failed bike rides or jumps too high up on the stairs. Haechan walked up to you, his beat up shoes in view, the laces an off white after a long summer.

“Here, I told him to add whipped cream to your banana split,” he says, bumping into you lightly as he sits down.

You scoop up a combination of vanilla and strawberry onto your spoon, wiping the excess on the side. “Thank you,” you mumble through a mouthful of ice cream, wiping at the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

You watch as a small line of younger kids form by the truck, handing their money through the window in exchange for popsicles of cartoon characters.

“Remember when we were that small?” you ask, motioning towards the kids with your head.

Haechan nodded, licking around the chocolate ice cream.

“I used to beg my mom to give me a couple bucks so I could buy you ice cream too.” He laughs. “It’s hard to come up with money at 6 years old, the tooth fairy can only do so much.”

You snort at his comment, thinking back to a bright eyed Haechan showing you the crumpled dollar bills he got from his mom to buy your banana split. You both could barely reach the window, struggling to place the money on the small piece of plywood that acted as a counter.

“It’s been nearly fifteen years and your order hasn’t changed,” he says.

“I stick to what I enjoy,” you explain, nudging his side. “Like you.”

“I’d like to think I stuck with you, you were an annoying kid.”

“Please, not as annoying as you offering me candy every day in exchange for a kiss on the cheek when we were seven.” you reply, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh shut up, my idea of romance is way better now,” he says proudly.

“Is it now?”

He straightens up, grabbing your chin to turn your face toward the sky. “Us. Olive Garden breadsticks at 2am. Music blasting in a parking lot.” he explains, moving his hand across the air as if presenting something.

“Oh wow, fuckin’ marry me Hyuck.”

“That’s the plan,” he replies, leaning back onto the steps with a smirk.

You laugh loudly, leaning into his body and offering him spoonfuls of ice cream as he continues rambling about your future plans.

© fullsunfluff

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

kiss me quick

✩ haechan x reader | enemies to lovers | college roommate!hyuck | fluff | suggestive | 1k

SUMMARY | a kiss between you and your awful roommate reveals something neither of you expect. WARNINGS | swearing, intense kissing, mentions of drinking/alcohol RATING | teen+ PROMPT | kissing to prove there’s no chemistry, even though it’s a lie, the kiss proving it REQ BY | anonymous 

“No fucking way,” Donghyuck mumbles, shaking his head. 

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[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

prompts  —  kisses edition, pt. 2

small kisses littered across the other’s face

a kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

an unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it

breathily demanding, “kiss me”

wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain

a kiss pressed to the top of the head

stopping to ask “do you want this?”, only to be answered with a deeper kiss

tangling hands in each other’s hair to pull them closer

a small, hesitant kiss immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss

kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap

kissing to prove there’s no chemistry, even though it’s a lie, the kiss proving it

an awkward kiss given after a first date

a kiss so perfect that neither can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards

tracing one person’s lips with a finger before tilting their chin up for a kiss

kisses shared under an umbrella

pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips

placing hands under the other’s shirt, making them gasp at their cold hands

a kiss that quickly descends into passion, ignoring what’s going on around them

kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height equality

hugging their love close before kissing them passionately on the lips

desperate whines of surrender when they know they’re done for

slow and drawn out kisses where neither wants to let go

laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand

that moment where they know they shouldn’t, but they kiss anyways

not being able to stop themselves from touching each other

pressing a kiss to the other’s forehead as they sleep

staring at each other’s lips for a moment before giving in

having to hold each other while the world is spinning and they’re out of breath

morning kisses exchanged before either opens their eyes

winding around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished

whispering “i love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss

that ‘oh shit is this actually happening?’ moment before it actually happens

kissing as they move around trying to get to a bed, bumping into everything

a lingering kiss before/after a long trip apart

a kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of each other

almost kissing before turning away from each other

avoiding each other at all cost, yet somehow ending up back together

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

— nct 127 reaction to someone jokingly asking you two when the wedding is.

︱requested.

[✿] — TAEIL. the question makes him smile and he turns to look at you as he replies to the person. “well, whenever this one is ready,” he says with a playful smile although there’s a sense of sincere tenderness in his eyes.

[✿] — JOHNNY. he laughs light-heartedly and turns to look at you with a mischievous smile before directly asking if you want to get married. he’s only half-serious, expecting you to say no, but when you tell him otherwise, his playful grin melts into a soft smile as he holds your gaze and takes your hand in his, squeezing it lightly in confirmation.

[✿] — TAEYONG. he goes along in a light-hearted manner with a polite laugh. when the person leaves you two alone afterwards, he nudges you from the side and pulls you close to him, “do you want to get married one day?” when you half-jokingly replies that you thought you already are, the smile on his face is pure bliss, “that’s true.”

[✿] — YUTA. he laughs a little in surprise before replying casually with a small shrug, “i’m ready when they are,” he tells the person, meeting your eyes for a brief moment. later on, when it’s just the two of you, he brings it up again (most likely when making out or making love), letting you know that he meant what he said.

[✿] — DOYOUNG. he lightly jokes, “at this point, it feels like we’ve been married forever. the real question is ‘when is the divorce?’” this leads to a bicker between you two, half-forgetting the person is still in front of you. like always, you eventually break into adoring smiles and laughs, looking at each other like there’s no one else in the world.

[✿] — JAEHYUN. the question catches him a little off-guard but he can’t help the smile forming on his face. “hopefully, soon.” he says, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him.

[✿] — JUNGWOO. he surprises you by having a proper answer prepared for this question. he stops himself and looks at you, “this is certainly gonna get awkward if you tell me now that you don’t want to get married.” when you tell him that’s not exactly the case but you’re not ready yet. he takes your hand and presses a brief kiss on your palm with a gentle smile, “i’m willing to wait,”

[✿] — MARK. the question makes him flustered and he ends up rambling the plans he had for the wedding and marriage with you. when you stare at him in pleasant shock, he replies, “what? of course i think about marrying you, why are you so surprised?”

[✿] — HAECHAN. it happens on call and he immediately starts pranking the other person, telling them it happened a week ago: “we sent you the invitation. thanks for coming by the way,” he tries to sound sarcastic. you instantly join in the fun, saying how you had to be discreet and why there aren’t wedding photos on social media. you both start making elaborate details of your wedding and honeymoon and the more details you add, the more serious the atmosphere gradually becomes as your eyes lock, wordlessly letting each other know that you’ll make it happen for real one day.

[✿] — MASTERLIST.

[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

sunsets, picnics, and energy drinks | l.dh

you only knew donghyuck as the boy who played soccer, always slept in literature class, and never paid attention in anatomy. meanwhile, donghyuck knew little to nothing about you. but he did know one thing: you had stolen his heart and he didn’t want it back.

PAIRING: soccer player!lee donghyuck x classmate!fem!reader

CHARACTERS: ft. nct dream members

GENRE&AU(S): fluff, classmates to lovers, soccer!au, high school!au

WARNINGS: language, pure fluff (if you need a warning for that)

LENGTH: 2.7k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE:      here is hyuck’s part of the heart is the goal series! because it was him who inspired this series, it’s only fair that his story is posted first. please let me know if you enjoyed this! feedback is very much appreciated <3

TAG LIST:      @quokkacore​ @leetaeyonglover​ @lebrookestore​ @sleepylixie​ @peachyyjaes-main​ @sprngfeverr​ @colpen​ @aevizen​ @yoongischeeksluv​

“That was intense,” Jisung panted from where he sat beside Donghyuck. “I thought we were going to lose for a minute.”

Chugging down the last of his blue Gatorade, Donghyuck tossed the bottle aside and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you ever trust Jeno’s strategies?” he teased his younger teammate. “Of course we won. We always do.”

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[d-nghy-ck-ficrecs]

friends kiss too

12:22AM ➴ bestfriend!johnny x gn!reader | college!au

word count: 620 words

Seven minutes–a mere 420 seconds–can make or break relationships. It obliterates awkward friendships, founds the basis of sensual romances, or, in most cases, is simply spent in silence with a stranger.

     A blurred friendship however–one constantly recoiling at the edge of something more–can fork into a multitude of possibilities.

     You and Johnny have been friends since high school; ending up in the same university had been the best thing you’d heard all senior year. Enrolling in your dream university with your ideal partner. In companionship, of course. Not the romantic kind. No, totally not. Absolutely not.

     But standing here, backed against the cramped wall of some frat guy’s closet across Johnny Suh, every sensation you’ve fought to curb, rises in your throat (along with the two shots of vodka you swigged an hour ago).

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