taeeflwrr

[taeeflwrr]

i’m back w a fic that literally no one asked for (myself included) ⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂｡ )⸝♡ different from my norm but prompt #2 instantly caught my eye (bolded in fic)

s_fw, wc2728. he’s an angel but no religious discourse, betrayal mentioned, wound care, love (i like the portrayal here)

“𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸?”

𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡.

𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 ��𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

“𝘏𝘢𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯,” 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘺. “𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”

“𝘐—” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 –𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶– 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺. “𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

The house is as still as stone when you hear it— hear him. Your eyes open as though you’d never fallen asleep, but you lay motionless for a little longer, listening to see if he’ll seek you out or if you’ll have to find him yourself.

Old steps creek under his weight, followed by the drag of the pillowy plumage you know keeps him safe whenever he casts off into the night. You’ve seen it a thousand times if you’ve seen it once, his majestic grace spellbinding against the backdrop of your old farmhouse.

He doesn't disappoint when he finally clears the landing and stumbles down the hall. But you can practically feel his exhaustion as his emotions all but saturate the air around you. The pressure of it –a swirling mix of anxiety and anticipation underlined with something you can’t quite make out– causes you to sit up and reach for your glasses in an attempt to make sense of them just before he stops short outside of your bedroom.

As always, Haechan’s energy makes him seem larger than he is, his wings helping to make up for what he lacks in bodily height. They block all of the moonlight your hallway window usually casts across your doorway, and the near pitch black of your room is momentarily suffocating as your senses attempt to place him. It reminds you of waking up from a bad childhood dream and trying to find the monster in the corner (as though making sure it was where it was supposed to be would make its presence bearable).

He marks himself, leaning into the frame and allowing you to see a sliver of light across him. Over him, honestly, acting as a halo more effectively than his fluffy head of hair. But, the relief is fleeting as you realize there’s something wrong.

It’s been a few days —or was it weeks?— since you last saw him, and things had been fine when he left. Normal. He’d even gone so far as to describe the old summoning scroll that appeared on your dining room table as routine before he loved and kissed you goodbye. 

“Could you help me with my wings?” He shifts again, more light spilling over him. The black and white of his uniform would appear utilitarian if not for his pilgrimage. He distracts you from its state (you’ve never seen it so tattered, and you're sure a piece is missing from over his shoulder) by groaning softly, already stepping away from the doorway completely. “Please?”

You follow after him, but it isn’t until you switch on the kitchen lights that you realize the extent of what he’s asking. He turns away from you when you attempt to meet his gaze, tugging a chair away from the table to make space for his wings.

They’re damaged, though you can’t tell how badly beyond the muck they’re covered in. You debate telling him that you should hose him off in the backyard before deciding to dump some clean washcloths in water to boil. You also grab one of the first aid kits that are solely his before kneeling at his side.

“Cut it off,” he tells you when you begin to fuss with the eyelets on his vest.

At your confusion, he takes your face in his hand and finally allows you to look at him. Bruises are blooming under his skin, but he’s already been tended to. You usually fuss about him coming home to you for care rather than seeing a specialist in (quite literally) God-knows-where, but realizing that someone has already stitched him up doesn’t settle well in your stomach.

Not when he’s so obviously still hurt. 

His thumb strokes your bottom lip tenderly. “Trust me.”

The request does nothing to help. In the three years since he more-or-less crash-landed into your life, he’s never once asked you to trust him.

“You’ll have to cut around the root.”

You don’t even realize he’s reached for the scissors until he’s pressing them into your hand. It dawns on you that he’s been holding his wings strangely this whole time. Even the sound of them across your floor had been different.

“I’m sorry.”

“Haechan” —he sighs at the sound of his name, shoulders visibly relaxing, and it takes the bite (the accusation) out of you as you stand up— “you don’t need to apologize to me.”

You let him guide you between his legs as you tuck the scissors under your arm, and he allows you to take his face in your hand. His dark eyes are endless against yours until he closes them, leaning into your touch as you gently stroke across the curve of his cheek.

The question of what happened, or what was done to him, is heavy on your tongue, but the words never truly form. Trust me, his voice echoes in your mind. Trust me, trust me, trust me—

He jumps when he feels your fingers through his feathers, biting back a pained moan as you brush over the bend of his wing. The tufts are matted with blood and grime, and he repeatedly winces as you cut down one shoulder of his vest and dress shirt and then the other. He rips it off after, whimpering at the action before tossing his clothes to the side. 

“Haechan—”

“You have to cut them off.”

You stumble away from him at the suggestion, scissors clattering to the floor. He doesn’t look at you for a long time. Instead, he sits trembling, elbows propped on his knees until you take a tentative step back toward him.

Now that he’s shirtless and asking you to do something unthinkable, it’s obvious that someone attempted to break them. His tertials are damaged, the skin around the base blistered, and you have no idea how he made it back to you. How he’s even supporting them with the state he’s in.

You’ve never seen him so weak, so human. It adds to the confusion you can’t find the words to address. 

“Please,” he says, doing little to hide the pain he’s in now. 

Your hands shake as you flip through the collection of scalpels in the kit until you find one that seems reasonable. You decide against reminding him that you have no idea what you’re doing. “I think that salve—”

“Can’t use it.”

You spoon some of the simmering water and a cloth into a glass bowl. “Would it be more comfortable to lie down?”

“No.” He adjusts as you step between his legs for a second time. One of his hands ghosts the back of your leg. “It has to be like this.”

You nod slowly, “Because you want me to cut your wings off.”

He hums. “Have to. Please.”

You wonder if refusing would be selfish or an act of love. But he’s trembling just as bad as you are, so you do as asked.

As carefully and quickly as possible, you steady your hand and answer every whimper of pain from him with a silent apology in your heart. You force him to lean into you as you cut around the root of his wing, supporting the weight of it as best you can, lest it tear the skin off his back.

It’s only as the first one falls to the floor with an unceremonious thud that you remember a healing aid he’d brought with him in the past. You pull away long enough to grab it from the kit and wipe that side of his back clean before laying the skin-like bandages over the gaping wound. He sighs in relief, arms daring to curl around you as he hugs you closer, and as you start on the other, he draws it around you, encapsulating you both as you work.

“Tickles,” you murmur once you realize he’s purposely brushing against your legs.

“Just for now.”

The statement is sobering, reminding you of exactly what you’re doing. It causes you to pause long enough to gently brush your knuckles against them as you remember how long it took you to get accustomed to feeling them against your skin. Your stomach hollows at the realization that this is the last time you’ll experience it.

“We were betrayed,” he tells you once you refocus, each word strained. “By someone we trusted.” The silence feels pregnant with circumstances you can’t begin to understand. “It brought a lot of things to light.”

You decide against telling him that it explains next to nothing about the state he’s in now. “Does betrayal breed disease?”

“What?”

“The roots and your skin, it all looks infected. I’m trying to get all of it…” He flinches as you get to a particularly awful patch of blistered skin. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m nearly done.”

The warmth of his wing slowly fades, slipping away until finally the entire thing joins the other on the floor. He lets out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding when you leave him long enough to get a clean bowl and fresh towels from the pot on the stove.

“Time passes differently there,” he murmurs when you return. He bites back sounds of pain as you finish cleaning his back and bandage the leftover wound. “All I could think about was you.”

You come to stand in front of him again, wiping his shoulders and arms clean as he asks, “I was created with a single purpose, you know?”

All too well.

He lets you wipe his chest and face before deciding he’s had enough. His arms close around your waist to hold you closer and tighter, helping to stop the way your entire body trembles with the weight of what you’ve done. 

You’ve had conversations about free will before, debated your truth versus his, and you can’t help but wonder what happens next. Now that you’ve desecrated him.

“Haechan,” you gently push against the curves of his shoulders.

He meets your gaze in tears, lashes wet but cheeks dry. “How is it possible? That it was always you?”

“I—” You have nothing to say to that –to the incredible suggestion that this entire time he’s existed for you– so you lean in to kiss the mole near his eye, your lips coming away salty. “I missed you.”

He pulls you close enough to rest his head on your stomach. “Didn’t want you to find me in the yard,” he admits. “Not like this.

“You were right earlier. It’s…a disease. Caused by transgressions.” His chest stutters before he clutches you tighter. It feels different from before, almost as though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it again. “Cutting them is an offering. It’s called solatium. And this—”

He pushes gently at you before visibly summoning his strength and standing, swaying slightly without the counterbalance of his wings. You hurry to steady him, but he catches your wrist instead, his other hand settling over your heart. 

“An offering to who?”

He places your hand over his heart, too. “—it’s a virtue I never knew.

“You’ve accepted me without conditions the whole time.”

You aren’t sure if it’s a question or a realization. But, when you realize he isn’t going to explain, you go on to say, “This is giving Gabriel Garcia Marquez” —he huffs out a laugh— “All that’s missing is a sickly baby…I guess if you’re both the husband and the old man, I can be the wife and the baby.”

He drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, but you can feel him smile (however briefly). “You’re so weird.” His hand is warm on your chest, even through the fabric of your shirt. “How could you be my purpose?”

It’s existential. You don’t imagine he wants an answer, but one comes to you anyway. “I willed it.”

The tips of his fingers press a little deeper into your chest, a soft sound of surprise forming in his throat, but he doesn’t react otherwise. He just weighs a little heavier into you as you use your free hand to gently rub his lower back and waist until, finally, he sighs and pulls away to sit back down.

You draw your fingers through his hair to distract yourself from how small he looks, smiling softly when he sighs at the feeling. “I’ve always loved you without conductions, Haechan. Wings or no wings. Answers or no answers.

“You are, and I am. And it kinda sucks because it’s led to me doing things like cutting off your wings in the middle of the night.”

He pulls you between his legs again, leaning headfirst into your stomach. It gives you the perfect view of what you’ve done, even if the bandages cover the worst of it, and you continue to distract yourself by running your fingers through his hair from the nape up, over and over as silence stretches between you.

“Why did you do it?” His fingers ghost the backs of your legs. “Without question.”

“It isn’t because you asked me to,” you decide. “I didn’t want to do that to you. But…you needed me to. I know you wouldn’t make yourself so vulnerable under ordinary circumstances.”

He makes an exhausted sound of agreement. “My relationship with you was brought to light.

“We’re allowed to love humans, but it’s taboo to love one over all. The only thing that saved me was that I was in denial…perhaps as a way to protect you.  But, well…

“Either way, my denial stopped the disease from forming. But, once I accepted it as the truth…Time is different. We were betrayed years ago, but it would have been the first day or two for you. And since then, I’ve been answering for my transgressions.

“If I made it back to you, my punishment was to ask this of you. And, the offering was to my maker, past and present. It’s humbling. I could die and return to them. Or I could live and remain with you.”

“Controversial play on fate. Or faith.”

He laughs softly. “It’s neither. It’s your will.” His arms circle your waist when you stiffen, rubbing soothingly over your body. “It’s yours, so it’s mine. 

“You are, so I am,” he murmurs, shifting to press his face into your stomach. “You could ask anything of me. This whole time, but especially now.” He pulls away again, looking up at you imploringly. “Do you understand?”

You trace his brow with your fingertip, careful to avoid a set of stitches. “Is an angel still an angel without any wings?”

He almost frowns, but he doesn’t let it form before he schools his features. “Does it matter?”

The house is as still as stone around you, and you wonder briefly if it’s him who does it. Who quiets the world with his presence alone, underlining the fact that it’s just the two of you.  Your thoughts are cut short by him pouting, the sight drawing a smile to your face because it’s the most normal thing he’s done (aside from cling to you) since he’s gotten home.

“It’s only a question.”

“I’ve never been without before.” The statement in and of itself feels weird, as though he’s talking about something else entirely. “I’ve never had anything of my own, either.”

He puts his hand back on your chest, a soft smile playing on his lips. As he feels your heartbeat, he uses his free hand to reach for yours, rubbing your knuckles to his cheek. “Yours.”

“What?”

“You’re asking me what I am now, right?” He kisses your palm this time, leaving you speechless before him. Your knees feel weak, and as Haechan looks up at you, you can’t help but feel as though you’re looking at each other for the first time. “If I’m still an angel, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, right,” you breathe in light-headed disbelief.

The smirk he levels you with is all too familiar, equal parts tender and teasing. “We can deal with that in the morning. I need you to understand, my love.”

He kisses your inner wrist, tongue coming out to taste the salt of your skin. You settle your other hand over his, slotting your fingers through his at your chest. It’s only as you realize that your heartbeats are in sync that you understand what he’s saying. “It doesn’t matter because above and before anything else: I’m yours.”

a/n. the backstory is that they’ve known each other for three years but he’s been in love with her his whole life (…monster in the corner…). also if it isn’t painfully obvious i did look up parts of a wing but i did not pretend to go to med school

also he’s a bit out of character here but it isn’t everyday you get cast out of heaven and go home to the woman you betrayed god for 🥸

[taeeflwrr]

. . .

Late Night Texts with the Dreamies

a/n: stared at the stars for too long one night and then all these texts appeared...or maybe it was the other way around. regardless, the entire experience was healing

[taeeflwrr]

jeno im coming for you😵‍💫😵‍💫

(the whole time when jenoyn was doing exactly the things that jaemyn used to do i could literally imagine a whole edit with "like him" like it was perfect please come into my brain and watch it)

love you (from afar) - na jaemin

jaemin x female reader (feat. jeno and the rest of the dreamies)

synopsis: When you’re finally pulled out of your house and pushed into your first party at the ripe age of sixteen, you meet Na Jaemin. In an instant, you're captivated and obsessed while he remains oblivious. Unrequited love is hard but it’s even worse when time proves it isn’t on anyone's side. 

Or alternatively: To you, Na Jaemin is the center of your universe but to him, you are an awesome friend.

genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love, basically a love triangle, coming of age if you squint?, strangers to friends to ???

warnings/notes: underage drinking, swearing, no one rlly gets closure, time skips?, haechan is readers best friend lol, lots of mirroring!!, lmk if i missed any.. :3

wc: 9.6k+

a/n: hello hello!! my writing debut! (or return if you can even count the works i published in middle school...) i'm so excited to finally put out a finished piece for the first time in years and hopefully you enjoy it! i'm a person who enjoys writing, i'm not a writer so i'm sorry if this is not perfect- it's just something fun for me! feedback is appreciated and happy reading <3 p.s. i barely proofread this sry!

this piece was loosely inspired by this song! love u (from afar)

The first time you realize you’re in love with Na Jaemin is at your first high school party. 

You couldn’t believe your friend had somehow managed to finally get you away from your desk and into a crowded and overly-heated house. You did not belong here.

“Aren’t you excited to finally live a little?” You look up at the tanned boy throwing his arm around you. Scoffing, you dig your elbow into his side a little, “I live everyday, you just think it’s boring.” Haechan laughs at the eye roll you send him, “Can’t argue there.”

You know Haechan is feeling proud of himself. In your many years of knowing the boy, he was always the one trying his hardest to pull you out of your room. Even though you almost always refused his pleading, you couldn’t help but secretly like that Haechan had never given up on you.

Hearing your name, you whip around to lock eyes with your other friend running up to you, “I can’t believe you got her to come!” 

Rolling your eyes must be a new habit of yours. “I had to bribe her,” Haechan shakes his head, disappointed with the truth, “but she’s here! Finally the trio can thrive!” 

Haechan wraps his other arm around the boy as the three of you continue your journey into the kitchen, “What should her first drink be junnie?” the other thinks for a second, “maybe something easy, she’d probably like a smirnoff ice” You look at the boy, a little worry in your eyes, “don’t worry, it’s an easy drink, low percentage.”

As the night progressed, you became more comfortable as you stuck with your friends, feeling more confident with each drink you consumed. 

Haechan watched as you and Renjun went shot for shot, wide-eyed at the sight. He blinked twice just to make sure he was seeing things correctly. 

Wincing after your third shot, you tap out with Renjun’s solo celebration in tow. Haechan can’t help but pinch at your rose-colored cheeks, “Who knew the introvert had a wild side!” You jab at his side with a laugh contradicting your movements.

Maybe Haechan and Renjun were right. You needed to let loose more often.

“I need to use the bathroom.” you blurt out, looking between Haechan and Renjun. “It’s down the hall, first door on the left.” You follow Renjun’s finger as best as possible. 

You nod, reminding them not to leave this spot without you. After all, you were in a stranger's house, inebriated, and new to this scene. 

Your body glides along the wall as you make your way towards the door. It’s a little quieter down the hallway, making you aware of how loud your inner monologue is.

Reaching for the doorknob, your hand misses it as it swings open, your body colliding with something hard. 

You figure you must’ve run into the door until a pair of hands rest on your hips. 

Shooting your head up, you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you think you’ve ever seen. He smiles down at your shocked face. “Well hello to you too.” Your cheeks manage to flush red even more. 

What. The. Fuck!

You push out of his hold, looking everywhere but at him. “Sorry I have to pee!” Is all you manage to croak out as you push past him, closing the door. 

With your back against the door, you feel your heart beating out of your chest. Who was he? God he was so handsome! No, get it together. Haechan this is all your fault! Thoughts race around your head, too quick for you to catch any of them. 

Returning back to your friends after finally relieving yourself and regaining composure, you're being pulled to the backyard by Haechan, Renjun following right beside you. “I want you to meet my friends!” You let your body relax, completely forgetting about whatever transpired moments ago.

Feeling the cool breeze hit your body, you realize the backyard is significantly less packed and you can’t help but shiver a bit. 

“Haechan!” You hear a chorus of boys chime out as you approach a fire pit. Going from left to right, you recognize some faces while others are brand new or barely holding on in your foggy memory. 

You recognize Jisung right away. You had gym with him freshman year and you cried when his “stellar football throw” went the wrong direction and nailed you right in the head. You had become acquaintances after the incident. He had offered to buy you ice cream at the shop near school and you figured he wasn’t a bad person, he just had bad aim. 

Chenle sat right next to him. You didn’t know him well but you knew Jisung and him were tied at the hip. When the football incident happened, instead of helping either of you, Chenle opted for falling onto the ground, tears threatening to come out as he gasped for air from his incessant laughter.

Next to him was another boy, sporting wire-rimmed glasses and mindlessly strumming a guitar in his lap. He shot you a soft smile before focusing back on the conversation Haechan had started. You figured his name was Mark from the way Haechan whined for the boy's attention.

Beside him was another boy who looked oddly familiar. Watching the way his eyes formed crescents as he laughed felt like deja vu until you realized it was Jeno. In your first semester of your sophomore year, you and Jeno had shared a theatre class to fulfill an arts elective. You interacted once or twice during the semester but only as characters, never as yourself and Jeno.

Lastly, beside Jeno was a recognizable face but a stranger all in one. The boy from the bathroom. You watched as the light from the flames danced across his features, making him look ethereal. Was he even real?

You admittedly stare longer than you should and you’re snapped out of it when Renjun grabs you by your arms, pushing you forward to sit down right next to the boy. 

Your frame instinctively shrinks as he turns, sending you a smile, “Hello again.” You meet his eyes, the fire floating around in his dark brown orbs. You could stare at him all day if he’d let you. “Hi,” Really? That’s all you can muster up? “Sorry for bumping into you earlier, It’s my first time drinking so I’m kind of all over the place up here.” You make a scrambling gesture around your head. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re new to all this but at the moment you don’t have a great filter.

He laughs and you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach. Did you always feel like this when you heard laughter? You could’ve sworn you wanted to kill Haechan most times you heard him laughing.

“It’s alright, I’m Jaemin by the way.” 

Jaemin?

Jaemin.

Jaemin.

Even his name was nice. Was he God’s favorite?

The night continues with the eight of you huddled around the fire getting to know each other. You can’t help but think you really like these guys, especially the one next to you. 

You naturally bounce off one another throughout the night as if you’d always been friends. When someone says something funny, you’re both locking eyes before busting out into laughter.

It’s weird you think, but you’re not opposed to how comfortable the boy makes you. Your heart’s beating faster than you can keep up with and the way he makes you feel so comfortable has you leaning in, feeling weak in the knees.

Is this what liking someone feels like? Is this love?

That night, when you sneak back into your room, Haechan and Renjun passing out immediately on your floor, you make it a priority to find your journal and scribble down how you feel.

First high school party

I think I fell in love with a stranger today.

· · ─────── · ·

The second time you realize your feelings for Na Jaemin is at the end of your senior year of high school.

Hearing your name from behind, you whip around in the crowd of people to see your friends standing a little bit behind you with stupid smiles plastered on all their faces. 

You run straight to them, crashing into a huge group hug, “Guys!” Your voice is laced with celebration, sadness, and fear all at once, “We did it! We graduated!” 

Thanks to Haechan’s persistence to get you out of the house your sophomore year of high school, you now have a rather large group of friends but you’re not complaining. 

After your first ever party, your trio had turned into an octet. It was chaotic but it worked and you loved it.

After a few pictures, insisted by all of your mothers, you hug your friends one by one as if you’re not all about to drive back to Chenle’s house for a pool party.

You end your hugs with the best hugger of them all, Na Jaemin. And no, that is not just because you like him. He really gives great hugs.

His taller frame engulfs yours and his touch feels warm. 

You feel him lean down before you feel his breath on your ear, “I’m so proud of us,” you remove your head from his chest, opting to look up at him instead.

You can’t help but think Jaemin has always been so handsome. 

“Me too.” Is all you can muster up, getting lost in his eyes. He stares down at you softly, the interaction feels vulnerable, intimate even. 

“Guys, let's go! Renjun just got the keys to his new minivan!” Chenle shouts, clenching his stomach as he tries to hold back his laughter.

One man’s graduation gift is another man’s comedic relief.

- 

Arriving at Chenle’s house, you’re always blown away at the size and at the fact that the party you all met at was here. 

Even though you’ve been friends for two years now, you still don’t think you’ve seen his house in its entirety. 

You hear Haechan call your name from downstairs and you’re quick to check yourself in the mirror one more time before heading down.

You don’t personally love the color pink but Jaemin does so you opt for one of the only pink two pieces you own.

“Don’t you hate the color pink?” Haechan asks before opening the door to the backyard, “It grew on me.” 

“Let’s play chicken!” Chenle shouts as soon as you walk out. He knows you’re the only one ever willing to play against him and Jisung.

Slowly getting into the pool to acclimate yourself, you wade over to Jaemin and Jeno.

“Pretty swimsuit, I love the pink,” He noticed! You smile as you finally settle in front of the two, “Thank you! I saw it a few weeks ago and thought the color was pretty,” Jaemin hums as he continues to smile at you. 

You feel small under his gaze, you decide to avert your gaze to Jeno, who’s already looking at you.

“Are you excited for Summer?” Jeno asks as he pushes off the pool wall, moving to stand closer due to Haechan and Chenle’s screaming contest impairing his hearing.

“Very excited to spend everyday with you guys,” you say with a sigh and an eye roll. He knows you’re being sarcastic and the boy can’t help the smile forming on his lips. 

He matches your tone, “Yeah cause you hate us soooo much,” he leans towards you in a teasing manner and you can only laugh before admitting defeat, “Sadly no, I love you guys too much.” you place your hands over your heart and give your best sob face before you’re suddenly pulled away.

You follow the hand wrapped around your arm and you see Jaemin’s figure pulling you to the middle of the pool. 

“Ready to win?”

“Obviously.”

Jaemin dips under the water, allowing you to easily mount his shoulders. 

You’ve done this action a thousand times but his hands on your thighs never fail to make your heart beat like crazy. 

“You’re going down.” Jisung mutters as he comes up from the water with Chenle on his shoulders, “Keep that smack talk up and I’ll make Renjun apply your sunscreen instead.” 

At this Jisung is quick to shut his mouth with Renjun painfully screaming ‘noooo!’ in the background.

Mark goes in between your pairs as the makeshift referee. Everyone knows he won’t rig it because frankly, he doesn’t care who wins, he just thinks it’s funny to see his friends flail around.

“Go!”

Pushing at Chenle’s incoming figure, you feel Jaemin’s grip on your thighs tighten to steady you both. It’s a never-ending pushing match between you and Chenle, both always being full of energy when it comes to a game of chicken.

“You got this! Push him harder!” You hear Jaemin’s support over the screaming coming from Chenle and the rest of the boys. 

You’re quick to push hard, but your hand slips past Chenle’s shoulder, giving him an open opportunity to push you over. 

Before he gets the chance, Jisung screams, suddenly becoming unsteady. You take that opportunity, pushing Chenle with enough force to make him and Jisung topple over. 

You cheer as Jaemin bobs up and down in the water to push you up like a champion. 

“That wasn’t fair! Jeno and Haechan scared me!” Jisung spoke up as he emerged from the water. Your eyes move to the two boy’s floating innocently on the side, catching Haechan’s mischievous eyes and Jeno’s playful smile, “We did no such thing!” 

You don’t miss the playful wink Jeno sends you .

-

By the time the sun starts to set, Chenle sets up the firepit next to the pool with his dad’s help before you all begin making s’mores. 

When you packed for today’s events, it never dawned on you to bring an extra pair of clothes to wear but thankfully Jaemin offered his hoodie and you were quick to take his offer. 

With the fire, Jaemin’s hoodie, his body heat radiating right next to you, and the blanket he made sure to drape over both of you– you were more than warm.

“Want me to make you a s’more?” You nod at his offer as he pushes a marshmallow onto his stick. 

Jaemin’s always been extra sweet to you and sometimes you wonder if he might like you back but other times you chalk it up to you being the only girl in your friend group. 

But the way his touch lingers, the way he looks at you with care, how his voice becomes softer around you– you swear there has to be something.

“Ahhhh” the boy holds a completed s’more up to your mouth, as he looks at you expectantly with a sweet smile. 

Just like the night you met, the fire dances in his dark brown orbs and you swear you would willingly get lost in his eyes. 

Taking the s’more you smile at the boy as he nudges you playfully.

-

That night you make sure to find your journal as soon as you close the door to your bedroom.

Graduation day

Jaemin is such a gentleman, it makes me so giddy. How could someone not fall for him?

· · ─────── · ·

When you’re finally used to your feelings for Na Jaemin, you’re in your first year of college.

By some higher being, you and your friend group had ended up at the same school and although you pretend like they’re a pain in the ass, you’re thankful you didn’t have to say goodbye to any of them.

“Are you coming over tonight?” You look up from your phone to see Jaemin mindlessly picking at the fruit cup in front of him.

It was Friday meaning it was Jaemin and Jeno’s turn to host movie night. You smile as you watch your friend pick the strawberries out and place them on a napkin in front of you. At this point in the semester, this was routine for you two. Meet after class, share a snack, and catch up.

“Do I even have a choice?” you sigh, taking a strawberry. The boy can only laugh at your weak attempt to sound upset about tonight. 

You feel the way his feet mindlessly play with yours under the picnic table. Jaemin has always been like this. Touchy. Playful. Clueless.

As years passed and you grew closer to Jaemin, that weird feeling lingered through it all. His soft touches, his compliments, his banter, his everything– it all burned you but you wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by his flame. 

But you were friends. Nothing more, nothing less. So you tried to push those feelings to the side, opting to be Jaemin’s friend up close and his admirer from a distance.

“I hope we don’t have to watch spiderman for the fourth time in a row,” You joke, pushing your overbearing thoughts to the back for another time. “Maybe we should watch horror or something. I don’t think we’ve done that in a while.” He hums in thought before chiming in, “Haechan would probably die then come back and haunt us.” 

You laugh at the thought of your friend in ghost form, “I don’t know if I could handle Haechan for an eternity.” Admittedly, you spent a lot of nights praying to the air that your friendship with Haechan would surpass time and break the barriers of infinity, but you would never admit that to him. It would boost his ego too much.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. He continued to play footsie under the table as you took the strawberries he despised. Every so often, you stole glances across the table. He hadn’t changed much over the years, instead he had grown into his features. His dedication to the gym paid off though it wasn’t noticeable under the black hoodie he wore but you knew. You knew all too well from the countless beach trips and pool days. 

You needed to stop staring before someone caught you. But it’s almost impossible to not stare when your friend is Na Jaemin. How was Jaemin everything you wanted but everything you couldn’t have?

-

“So did you get the right popcorn?” You glance at Haechan as you make your way down the street to Jaemin and Jeno’s shared apartment. He flashes a wide smile as he holds up the family size popcorn box. 

You were running fifteen minutes late because of Haechan’s dilemma on what popcorn seemed the best. You were always in charge of getting the popcorn for movie nights but this time you sent Haechan so you could finish and submit an assignment. “Thank god.”

Walking up the lawn, you drown out whatever Haechan is complaining about beside you as your eyes focus on the door. 

As you get closer, something inside you keeps telling you to retreat, to not go in. 

Leave! Leave! Don’t go inside! Turn around!

You question your internal monologue but proceed to knock on the door. What could that be about? 

Greeted by Jeno, you give him a quick hug before walking in to see the rest of your friends already surrounding the tv. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You quickly say hi to your friends, catching Jaemin’s sweet smile, before moving towards the kitchen to make the popcorn. Ever since the first movie night and Chenle’s terrible attempt at making popcorn and Jisung’s terrible attempt to salvage it, you were put in charge of popcorn when you popped it to perfection after the scarring (and smelly) event.

Unwrapping four bags for the first round, you flattened each one making sure the kernels spread throughout the bags. 

“No wonder the popcorn always tastes good when you make it,” You look up to see Jeno leaning against the counter, hands stuffed into his pockets. “You put so much care into your craft.” He jokes and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

You don’t know when you and Jeno had grown close throughout the years but it was nice to be considered a friend to the boy who was, for the most part, very closed off. You would say out of everyone besides Haechan and Renjun, Jeno had grown closest to you, Jaemin trailing close behind. It was an unexpected duo but Haechan noted that it made sense due to your similar lifestyles. 

“Gotta make sure my boys are well fed.” He rolls his eyes with a laugh while shaking his head, “Yeah cause we’re always starving without you.” You know his sarcasm is laced with a certain sweetness. 

“Help me with the drinks?” He moves towards you as you continue prepping the bags of popcorn before dipping down to be eye level with you. He pinches your cheek while sighing, “I guess” He draws out his words with an annoyed look only making you stick out your tongue at his playfulness. 

You miss the way Jaemin watches the interaction between the two of you, only noticing his presence when he walks up to you punching in the time on the microwave. You feel his stare on you as you focus on pressing the right numbers. You feel small under his gaze.

“Sit next to me?” Your cheeks heat up at the simple question and you can only look down as you squeak out, “Sure.” Jaemin smiles triumphantly. He wants you to sit next to him because you're his friend but he also knows you’re not a popcorn hog like the rest. He misses the very obvious signs of your bashfulness. 

You wonder how someone can be so clueless but you’re thankful nonetheless.

Plopping down beside Jaemin at the end of the couch, you situate the bowl of popcorn on your lap. Haechan and Jeno sit next to you, Mark occupies the single chair near Jaemin’s end with Renjun sitting on the floor in front of him, while Jisung and Chenle lay sprawled across the floor.

“Per the princesses request, we will be watching horror tonight!” Jaemin alerts your group as he starts making his way to the horror section of netflix. You feel Haechan’s eyes staring daggers into your side and you can only send him a hesitant smile while mouthing a quick ‘sorry’. 

“Don’t complain when I sleep in your bed tonight.” You regretted your choice immediately.

The night had gone on like usual. Jisung jumping when Chenle made sudden noises to scare him, Renjun nagging at them saying they’re drawing him out of his immersive experience, Mark laughing at his friends and mindlessly scrolling on his phone every so often, Haechan cowering in fear and holding onto Jeno for dear life as said boy tries his best to push him away.

This left you and Jaemin to exist in your own little world of uncertainties– mainly on your behalf. His arm around you, your head on his shoulder. You can feel his thumb drawing circles into your side when you jump at a scary scene. 

It all feels too intimate to mean nothing or maybe you’re just a chronic overthinker.

By the end of the movie marathon, your group is more than tired. Your body feels so comfortable against Jaemin but you know you need to head home.

“C’mon Haechan, get up.” You nudge at the boy as you stand from your seat. Somewhere throughout the night, Haechan had fallen asleep. He swatted your hand away as he curled more into Jeno.

“Okay, I guess you’re walking home with all the evil spirits tonight.” At this, Haechan shot up with wide eyes. “No! Just give me a second!” 

Saying goodbye to your friends as they leave in pairs, Jeno is the last to hug you before retreating to his room for the night. Haechan was taking forever.

You decided to sit on the front porch, wanting to get some fresh air. You feel a presence sit down and you don’t have to look to know it’s Jaemin. “Hi,” His voice is groggy and laced with tiredness. “Hi Jaemin.”

You look up from your shoes to meet his eyes. It’s his turn to stare for a beat too long. Why is he looking at you like that? Like he feels something?

The silence engulfing you both isn’t normal. It’s heavy and questioning.

“Can I do something and it won’t change anything between us?” His question catches you off guard, your palms suddenly starting to sweat. You reluctantly nod, still looking at him intently. 

Before you know it, the space between you is gone. His lips press to yours as his hand comes up to rest on your cheek. It’s over before you can even close your eyes or kiss back.

He leans back and you watch his eyes flutter open before he completely pulls away. “I didn’t feel anything. Did you?”

What? Was this some sick joke?

In all your years of knowing Jaemin, he rendered you speechless a lot but never like this. 

He just stole your first kiss.

“Why did you do that?” Is all you can blurt out before standing up to look down at the boy. An ounce of you hopes that maybe you misheard him, maybe he did feel something.

Matching your actions, Jaemin stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. How could he be so calm right now? It almost made you angry.

“Mark kept saying something about me and you being so touchy and saying things like ‘don’t think I miss the way you both look at each other’ so I wanted to see if he was right.” 

“And?”

“He was wrong.”

You swear you could feel the cracks forming on your heart as a horrible feeling settled in your stomach. You should’ve listened to your instinct. You should’ve never come over tonight.

Unrequited love is one thing but it’s another for Jaemin to confirm it so carelessly, as if he thinks there was nothing there for either of you.

Before you can say anything, Haechan opens the door, interrupting the horrific silence.

You thank the universe that Haechan is more focused on his surroundings out of fear of a ghost attacking him rather than on you. How can you explain the tears threatening to spill at any second?

When you make it home, Haechan holds true to his promise of sleeping in your bed that night. You sit at your desk feeling the need to write or else you’ll explode. 

You find the page with your two confessions written down. While the other pages are jumbled with words, this page remains untouched.

You know his answer, he made it more than clear there was nothing. It’s better to know for certain rather than chasing mindlessly anyways, right? You feel a tear run down and land on the page. 

From now on, you would love Na Jaemin from afar. 

Movie night

He kissed me and said he felt nothing. It feels selfish, what about how I feel? I’m in love with you Na Jaemin.

· · ─────── · ·

When you start getting good at loving Na Jaemin from afar, he starts trying to close the distance.

To celebrate the end of your first year of college, your friends decided it would be a great idea to go to the beach. 

You were excited but you knew this trip would test your abilities of keeping your distance from Jaemin. 

Ever since the kiss, you limited the number of times you were alone, the amount of times you touched, the amount of times you joked and talked. You didn’t want Jaemin completely out of your life, truthfully, that was impossible. But you wanted to give space for your feelings. 

As much as it hurt to admit, you wanted to love him from afar but you secretly hoped your feelings would fizzle out over time. 

Somehow throughout the course of your first year, Haechan caught on to your actions. It shouldn’t have surprised you, he knew you better than anybody. You just thought you were being more subtle than you actually were. 

You finally told him after weeks of pestering but you made him promise not to tell anyone or else he wouldn’t get to be the flower boy at your wedding. That’s how Haechan knew it was serious. He definitely was not telling anybody. 

So although he knew there was no hatred towards Jaemin and he had never done anything horribly wrong, he helped you create distance, always conveniently needing you whenever Jaemin got you two alone or inserting himself and saying he never got to sit near you during movie nights. A complete lie that Jaemin fell for over and over.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jeno calls your name. “You okay?” His brows are furrowed, voice laced with concern as he takes your bag to situate it in the trunk. “O-Oh yeah, just lost in thought. Thank you.” 

You watch as the boys pack up the two cars in Mark and Renjun’s driveway. Unfortunately, without Renjun’s minivan (which had died during the first week of college), it was hard to haul eight people on a roadtrip altogether so thankfully Mark and Jaemin had offered to drive this time around. 

“Wanna watch a movie with me on the way there?” Jeno closes the trunk to Jaemin’s car, wiping his hands off onto his shorts. You smile with a nod, “Let’s do it.”

As Haechan and Jaemin come out from the apartment with snacks, Renjun following to lock the doors, Jaemin throws the snacks into the backseat before coming over to you with an easy smile. 

“Do you wanna sit up front? You can pick the music.” The offer stings but not as bad as it could’ve a few months ago. 

Your plan was slowly but surely working. By loving him from afar, you were falling out of love with Na Jaemin.

“I’m actually gonna watch a movie with Jeno,” His smile falters for a second before biting his cheek, “Don’t worry though Jaem, Haechan has a good road trip playlist!”

The tips of his ears feel hot at the use of the nickname you had given him at the beginning of your friendship but why was he annoyed that you were choosing Jeno over him?

-

As your ride to the beach began, you decided it would be easier to sit in the middle seat to be closer to Jeno in order to see his small screen. He lended you an airpod and as he held his phone on his lap, you had a pack of gummy bears in your lap for the two of you. 

“What should we watch?” He asked as he looked into the bag for a green gummy bear. “Let’s watch something funny,” Your hand dives into the bag at the same time as his and you look at each other before laughing.

Jaemin can’t help but look at the two of you through his rearview mirror wondering what could be so funny? And why are you sitting so close to each other? And why, oh my god, why was it bothering him?

“Haechan, what funny movie should me and Jeno watch?” You lean forward, tapping the boy in the passenger seat. He thinks for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin, “Over the hedge!”

“Genius!” 

As the car ride continues, Jaemin can’t tell if he’s overstimulated, irritated, or going crazy. With Haechan’s 2000’s music blaring, the boy singing along and your laughter reaching to the front of the car every so often with whispers between you and Jeno following, he doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping the wheel until he sees his knuckles turning white.

What is this feeling? He thinks for a moment, ‘am I jealous?’ and he can’t help but scoff at his own idea. Don’t be crazy Jaemin.

Nearing the end of the drive, Jaemin finds himself growing more and more agitated. The last time he looked into the rearview mirror, your head was resting on Jeno’s shoulder as his rested atop yours. You fell asleep like that?

Although Jaemin was never one to be petty for no reason, he found himself taking a turn sharper than he should’ve. He wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see your head rise from his friend's shoulder. 

“We’re here sleepyheads!” Haechan shouted as the car came to a stop. 

As Jeno opened the door for you both to get out, you're overwhelmed by the smell of the ocean and the warmth engulfing your body. 

You look up at the house before going to help the boys bring in the luggage. This is going to be a long weekend.

Stepping into the entryway, your eyes scan over the layout. An open kitchen to your right with an island in the middle with four chairs and a breakfast nook on the side. To the left was an open living room, the couch being significantly larger than any couch you’ve used for movie night, a flat screen hanging off the walls. Directly in front of you is a long hallway with doors on either side, four to be exact. Two to a room wouldn’t be bad.

You all explore the house for a moment, leaving your bags at the front door.

Upon further investigation, you find a pool in the backyard with a grill, firepit, and large table that would easily accommodate your group. There’s easy access to the beach and a basketball goal near the garage. You decide to walk down the hallway last and notice that all bedrooms have two beds except the last one, the master bedroom. 

Joining the others on the couch, you realize they’re already fighting over who will get the king size bed.

Renjun decides it’s best if they draw names to choose where everyone sleeps and Haechan is quick to find a pen and paper. The boy states it’s best for him to pull so no one can see since he’s sitting at the end.

The others scoff saying he just wants to rig the game.

Haechan starts with the double beds, saving the king for last. 

The first room on the left belongs to Jisung and Mark, they high five at the revelation of sharing a room.  

Next is the first room on the right. Chenle and Renjun get chosen next and even though they both wanted the king, they aren’t upset with being roommates for the weekend.

That leaves two more rooms and four more people. You have a chance of rooming with Jaemin. If it’s the double beds, you can live. If it’s the king, you will die.

Haechan pulls out the first name for the last set of double beds, “Jeno!” he cheers with the boy only nodding. 

Pulling out the next name, Haechan leans back like every other time so no one can see. 

Your leg bounces in anticipation and Jaemin gnaws at his lip, both nervous for different reasons.

You watch as Haechan hesitates for a split second, his eyes flickering up to you. 

Looking down at the ground, you know you’re done for. 

Haechan shouts out your name, your head shooting up with wide eyes. He sends you a secretive wink before calling his and Jaemin’s name out for the king size bed.

So yes, Haechan did rig the game but technically not in his favor. 

Moving to your rooms to unpack, you feel light knowing you won’t have to share a room with the one person you’re trying to, borderline, avoid. 

Jaemin passes your shared room with Jeno and hears your muffled laughter. He doesn’t understand why Haechan purposefully made you room with Jeno. Did you like Jeno? Did you not like him?

Walking into his own shared room with Haechan, he lazily throws his bag onto the bed as he starts to unpack alongside the other.

Silence engulfs the two as if Haechan knows Jaemin sees right through him while Jaemin is searching for the right way to word his question.

“Why did you call her name out when you pulled yours?” Haechan glances up at the boy folding his clothes, his jaw tense.

Quick on his feet, Haechan feeds into what his friends said earlier, “I wanted the king, duh”

“I know you’re lying… what was that wink about? Does she like Jeno?” 

Haechan can only scoff as he closes the drawer, now full of his own clothes, “If that was the reason, I would’ve made sure to put them in here. Trust me, I would’ve made sure she got action.” There he goes, always trying to make a situation light. The thought of you and Jeno together makes Jaemin feel weird. He doesn’t understand why but he doesn’t like it.

“Either way, it’s none of our business.” Jaemin scoffs this time, lazily throwing his empty duffel bag into the corner. “I think it’s my business to know why my friend doesn’t want to room with me?” His statement comes off as more of a question and he watches as Haechan rounds the bed to exit the room, “Not everything is about you Jaemin.” 

Jaemin doesn’t understand when the switch happened. 

You used to be tied to him. You were a duo. You completed each other. You had such a good friendship.

So what happened? Why is Jaemin walking to the pool alone instead of you by his side? Why are you on Jeno’s shoulders playing chicken against Jisung and Chenle? Wait what?

Why are you on Jeno’s shoulders? That’s supposed to be him and you! That’s his thing!

Stepping into the backyard, he watches as you and Chenle push back and forth at one another. He can’t help but wonder if you always look this pretty? His eyes flicker down and his stomach twists seeing Jeno’s hands gripping your thighs to keep you stable. Why did that leave such a bitter taste in his mouth?

He sat next to Mark on one of the pool chairs, watching chaos ensue as Haechan started spraying at both you and Chenle, stating it would make the game more fun. 

Hearing the way you laugh out Jeno’s name to warn him to keep you stable has Jaemin rolling his eyes.

Maybe he’s just in a bad mood today.

For the rest of the day, Jaemin makes an effort to be near you but he picks up on how you turn down his advances. Cuddle on the couch? ‘Sorry I’m going to help Mark… gotta make sure he doesn’t burn the kitchen down’. Wanna watch me grill? ‘I was actually gonna play a game of horse with Chenle while we wait’. Sit next to me at dinner? ‘Sure!’ but then Haechan conveniently sat next to him, leaving you to sit between Renjun and Jisung. 

That last one really wasn’t intentional, Jaemin just thinks everyone is out to get him now.

Something that has really been bothering him is the fact that you haven’t been blushing at his compliments. He always figured you were blushing because you were shy with praise but he was just oblivious of how you only blushed when he said something nice, meanwhile you would simply say ‘thank you’ with a smile to anyone else.

The question still plagued his mind, When did everything change?

He had never realized it but he really liked the way your eyes shined when you looked at him. How you followed him around and how you were ready to jump at anything he suggested. He liked you right next to him. 

Now your eyes are getting duller, you’re not sticking to him at all and you’re turning down every suggestion he sends your way, you haven’t been near him this whole trip. And now that he thinks about it, you haven’t been by his side for a few months.

And when he looks up from his plate he wonders if you were always this beautiful. Did his heart always beat like this?

His eyes flicker to your lips and he can't help but think back to the night he kissed you. Was he nervous that night for fear of losing you as a friend or did his fast heart rate mean something else?

Shaking his head, he focuses his attention on Mark who’s saying something about going to the beach tomorrow.

Haechan says a joke that he doesn’t quite catch but his eyes move to yours, wondering if you’ll look at him the way you always do after someone says something funny. 

His stomach drops and he thinks he’s gonna be sick. Your eyes shoot straight to Jeno’s as you laugh together.

Jaemin is in trouble.

· · ─────── · ·

The next morning is when you stop loving Na Jaemin from afar.

Waking up, you’re blinded by the lights peeking through the curtains. 

Groaning as you stretch the sleep from your body, you turn your head towards Jeno’s bed to see him already facing you with a lazy smile. “Hi.” His voice is groggy, laced with tiredness. 

“Hi Jeno.” you flash your own lazy smile before continuing to stretch under the sheets.

The whole interaction feels like deja vu to you but you shrug it off. 

Today was a new day. Today you felt lighter. But most importantly, today was beach day. 

Taking turns with Jeno in the bathroom, you both get ready for the day before heading out to the kitchen to prepare for the long day.

Realizing you were the first two awake, you take it upon yourselves to cook breakfast for everyone. 

You and Jeno work well together. Where one lacks skill, the other makes up for it. You’re good with eggs and dicing fruit, he’s good with meats and getting the perfect toast on bread. 

While focusing on cutting the rest of the fruit, Jeno comes up behind you with a slice of bacon between his fingers, “ahhh” he mocks to alert you to open up. Skillfully taking the bacon from his hands with your lips, you hum at the taste. You shoot him an ‘Okay!’ sign with your fingers as you continue to chew and he flashes his signature crescent smile. 

You mirror his previous actions, bringing a piece of pineapple to the boy’s mouth, “ahhh” you copy and he laughs before biting the fruit in between your fingers. He closes his eyes at the sweet and tangy taste. “Delicious!”

The rest of the boys file into the kitchen, creating their own plates as they fuel up for the day. Jeno and you continued to snack on breakfast as you started to tackle the sandwiches for the beach.

It was weird how you and Jeno worked so well together. You knew you were alike but the fact that you could easily pick up where each other left off, finishing the task the way the other intended– it was fascinating to you. 

“Jeno can you pass me–” His hand appeared in front of you with the head of lettuce suspended in the air. You look at him to see he’s still focused on spreading condiments on the bread. “Thank you.” You glance at him one more time to see a soft smile on his lips. 

Jeno had always been attractive. He was handsome and sweet but with the way he always matched your energy, you couldn’t help but congratulate the lucky person he’d end up with. 

Turning around as you finish your last sandwich, you notice Jaemin staring at you. This time though, his stare doesn’t make you feel small and all of a sudden your heart beats normally under his gaze. You flash him a smile before continuing to pack the sandwiches into a bag. 

Watching you and Jeno work together to prepare everything for the day, Jaemin wonders if you two had always been like this. Did you bounce off each other just as easily as you and Jaemin had? 

Thinking back to that one movie night where he walked in on Jeno teasing you before helping you with drinks, Jaemin reluctantly agrees that yes, it’s always been like this for you and Jeno. Had he simply not cared until now or had he been bothered this whole time?

He can’t help but notice that shine in your eyes. But this time it’s not directed at him, it’s only when you focus on Jeno.

He thought about it a lot last night, his mind not allowing him to sleep. All he could think of was you. 

Na Jaemin has come to the conclusion, he likes you.

-

When you finally finish fighting against the sand as you make your way towards the ocean, hauling supplies and chairs, your group starts to set everything out. 

While Haechan and Renjun argue over how to set the umbrella up, Jisung is already leaving to go look for shells with Chenle following right behind him. Jeno and Jaemin set up the chairs while you and Mark set out a big blanket to sit on. 

“You seem happier these days,” the boy starts as he flattens out his side of the blanket, “like your consciousness isn’t being weighed down.” You look up at the boy as you finish your side and you can’t really grasp onto what he means.

Mark had always had this ‘talk in riddles, be philosophical and then move on like it didn’t happen’ way of reaching out to people. He knows things without having to be told and you know Mark Lee has you read front to back, fully memorized– just like he has all of his friends. 

“I guess I have been happier,” you start as you scan your group of friends scattered around. Your eyes land on Jaemin and you can’t tell if the love you feel for him is romantic or platonic. But it doesn’t scare you. The thought of not being loved by Na Jaemin doesn’t hurt anymore, “What do you think changed?” Your question is mindless, not expecting an answer.

“I think you finally like someone who likes you back.” The statement rolls off his tongue, bounces your way, and smacks you right in the face.

Your eyes subconsciously flicker to Jeno. 

Before you can say anything, Mark is already moving to settle the quarrel between Renjun, Haechan, and the umbrella. 

Eyes locking with Jaemin, he smiles and you can’t help but smile back. Something in your heart is telling you not to run away from Jaemin anymore, that there’s nothing to hide– nothing to protect.

You don’t have to love Na Jaemin from afar anymore. You can love him upclose– the same way you love the rest of your friends.

-

Jaemin notices the switch. 

Compared to yesterday, you entertain his conversations and you’re by his side. But he notices it all– especially the fact that it’s all half-hearted.

Truthfully, it’s not half-hearted. You let your guard down with Jaemin for the first time in months. He only views your actions as half-assed because he’s so used to being the center of your universe. But now he’s just like everyone else. To you, Na Jaemin is just another friend. 

Nonetheless, he’s thankful you’re not avoiding him anymore. It makes him feel giddy when you laugh at his jokes or lean your head on his shoulder for a moment. When you flash him a smile he can’t help but feel lightheaded and when you shout his name he feels hot all over.

Is this what it feels like to like someone?

He eyes your figure now laying out on the blanket as you mindlessly play with its loose strings, listening to whatever Haechan is talking about. 

Jisung sits beside you as he places the shells he collected along your back in a spiral pattern. The boy makes a very important note to you, “stay still”.

“You look like a creep staring at her like that,” Chenle leans over to whisper in Jaemin’s ear. His face goes red as he whips his head to look at the younger, “I’m not staring,” he defends but his voice is so weak, Chenle almost lets a laugh slip before continuing to joke, “You’re not the only creep. At least he’s more subtle about it.” Jaemin follows Chenle’s nod and his eyes lock onto Jeno’s figure, looking at you with the most lovesick gaze he’s ever seen.

“It’s getting hot, I wanna get in the water!” You whine out. The closest any of you got to the ocean today was Jisung and Chenle’s shell collecting and truthfully, you do not count their fingers grazing wet sand while running away from the waves as getting in the water.

Jaemin hesitates before he decides to speak up but he’s cut off.

“I’m almost do– Jeno!” Jisung screams as Jeno quickly gets up, grabbing your hand and pulling you up, knocking Jisung’s shells all over the place.

Jaemin watches you scream as Jeno throws you over his shoulder, running towards the ocean with Jisung chasing after him screaming about how he’s going to drown the older boy.

He watches as his friends get up and follow after the three of you and he wills himself up to follow.

When did Jeno get so confident but more importantly, when did Jisung get so loud?

It dawns on you that you really love your friends. As you watch the boys splash one another and Jisung holding true to his promise of trying to drown Jeno, sure enough you feel at home.

You float on your back, letting the water hold your figure as you look up at the clear sky. 

Today felt like a rebirth for your emotions and you were thankful. Head not clouded by the same boy anymore, you had the opportunity to explore new connections and the thought of it was thrilling. 

“Hi,” you slightly move your head to see Jeno swimming up to you and away from the chaos.

“Hi Jeno,” your tone is teasing, dancing on the fact that you’ve already had this same encounter today. 

You feel him mindlessly drip water onto your exposed stomach as you continue floating. Your cheeks flush a soft hue of pink at the change in energy. 

“You look really pretty,” The shyness in his voice catches you off guard, causing you to look up at the boy. His cheeks mirror yours, dusted lightly with pink. 

Before you can respond, he continues, “Can I ask you a question?”

Jaemin watches from afar and wonders what you’re talking about.

He finds himself battling internally with whether or not it’s morally okay to pursue you while knowing his best friend might also have feelings for you. Jaemin believes he has a better chance because in his eyes, you’ve always been closer.

Little does Jaemin know, you’re already far out of his grasp.

-

That night, you all decide you’ll make use of the firepit as Chenle says he’ll order some food delivery and s’more supplies. 

You had gone back to your room to change before going to the backyard but you felt silly when you realized you really hadn’t packed anything warm considering it was Summer. 

“Do you wanna wear my hoodie?” You hear Jeno’s voice from across the room and you look up to him already holding out the enticing material. He must’ve noticed the way you kept running your hand up and down your arm for warmth

“Are you sure? You won’t get cold?” He smiles with a nod as he walks over to you, “Just wear it,” You take the hoodie, throwing it over your tank top. Your thank you comes out muffled but he hears you just fine, “Sit by me as a repayment though.”

You nod with a smile as you follow him out to the backyard, his hoodie engulfing you like a blanket. 

Sitting down next to Jeno, he drapes a blanket over the two of you before beginning to impale a marshmallow. 

“I’ll make this one for you.” Jaemin overhears Jeno’s good deed and he can’t help but feel like he’s watching an out of body experience. The scene looks all too familiar to him, feels too familiar to him– like you and him had done the same exact thing once.

He catches your eyes from across the fire– you shoot him a playful smile that he can’t help but return. The way the light from the flames move across your features make Jaemin’s heart race and he swears he can see the light dancing around your eyes, making them even more beautiful.

How had he never noticed before? You’re so beautiful.

-

Before you know it, it’s the next day and you’re packing up to leave.

Watching as the other boys climb into Mark’s car, you let your head rest against the seat with a lazy, but satisfied smile plastered on your lips. You hope you all can do this again before Summer’s over.

In the backseat with Jeno right next to you, scrolling for another movie you can watch together, you can’t help but let your eyes follow through the window and up to the house with a smile. You thought this would be a long weekend for other reasons but in the end, you’re wishing the trip didn’t feel so short.

This trip was good for you and your heart. 

Jaemin starts the car, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a soft smile. He made up his mind last night. He doesn’t think there is anything wrong with him pursuing you, if anything– may the best man win. He swears he has a whole plan on how to win your heart.

Unfortunately for him, Jaemin misses the way your pinky finger is intertwined with Jeno’s. 

-

When you make it home, you don’t miss the way both Jeno and Jaemin hug you a beat longer than usual.

Saying your goodbyes as you and Haechan walk up to your shared apartment you feel a sudden need to scribble more in your journal. 

This was a turning point. This. This was monumental.

Beach trip

My heart finally knows its place with Jaemin. He’s a great friend. 

· · ─────── · ·

Jaemin is four drinks in when he realizes he’s in love with you.

To celebrate the beginning of your second year of college, your friends, mainly Haechan, deem it appropriate to turn movie night into a gathering to drink. 

At the moment it’s just six of them, you and Jeno missing from the group.

Jaemin wonders where either of you could be. Jeno had mentioned going out today but didn’t tell him where. Ever since the beach trip, the boy seemed to always have something to do on Fridays but Jaemin never paid much attention to his whereabouts, though one time he checked the boy's location out of pure boredom and saw him at the mall which was strange. 

The only information he had on your whereabouts was Haechan saying you’d be late, so truthfully, he knew nothing. 

Over the summer, things between you and Jaemin had gone back to normal, sort of. You accepted his touch, you hung out with him one on one, your banter was back and forth, you were by his side. 

He thought he was doing everything right. He was drawing you in slowly but surely. It was gonna be so perfect.

But he noticed the way you didn’t let your touch linger longer than it needed to, how it wasn’t him you sat next to during movie nights, how you still looked at Jeno instead of him when something was funny.

They had started drinking without you two, Haechan assuring that the early bird always gets the worm– or something like that. 

So as Jaemin finishes the last of his third drink, he’s starting to feel his tongue become more loose. “Where are they? Is she gonna be okay walking here alone?” 

The others can only murmur ‘i don’t know’ with shrugs, “They probably stopped by the apartment so she could change,” Haechan states, taking another sip from his drink. 

What? You’re together?

Putting his empty can down, Jaemin reaches for another, cracking it open, “They’re together right now?” Jaemin feels strange but he chalks it up to the alcohol.

“Yeah? They go out like every Friday… They leave me all alone!” Haechan pretends he’s been wounded as he cries into Renjun’s shoulder who can only roll his eyes at the boy’s dramatics. 

“What do you mean?” He feels himself clenching his can tighter, trying to use what’s left of his sober consciousness to navigate what Haechan’s saying.

“Dude, does Jeno not tell you anything? Ever since the beach trip he’s been waltzing into my apartment every Friday and stealing my best friend like I’m some sort of wicked witch!” Haechan scoffs at his own statement, “He’s a friend stealer!” Haechan shouts but Jaemin could care less.

So that’s where Jeno’s been every week. With you. 

All Jaemin can let out is a soft and confused, “What?”

As if on cue, the front door opens and his eyes shoot up from his can. There you are in all your glory, Jeno’s hand wrapped in yours.

Jaemin swears he’s about to have a heart attack as he feels his chest clench in such an uncomfortable way. He thinks he can feel his heart being ripped to shreds and he wonders if you can feel so torn apart about someone you like. 

He concludes that no, you cannot be this torn up about someone you like so with a heavy heart, the boy admits to no one but himself, 

He is in love. 

· · ─────── · ·

It’s weird how your sophomore year of college feels oddly similar to your freshman year.

The only difference is that you’re walking hand in hand with Lee Jeno. 

You don’t know when the switch occurred but you noticed Jaemin distancing himself from you. At first you figured he was trying to be respectful of your relationship but when he stopped inviting you out and jumped at the feeling of your skin on his, you knew it was something more.

In fact it was.

The tables had turned, the roles reversed, the ball in the other’s court but never to be served.

Na Jaemin started falling in love with you at the exact same time you were falling out of love with him. For his own sake, the boy had no choice but to start loving you from afar.

To you, Na Jaemin is a wonderful friend but to him, you are his whole world.

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading⭐ p.s. - thinking abt writing a jeno au from his pov in the same universe! lmk what you think <3

[taeeflwrr]

Too Hot for Snow

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader x Jaemin

Genre: angst, drama, romance, smut, love triangle

Word Count: 17k

Warnings: There are two smut scenes with the same mc, but nothing that really needs a tw. If you aren't here for him, you can skip them without missing out on anything tho! The other mc won't come short in terms of romance either, trust the process! But it's a bittersweet ending.

Summary: When your husband decides to file for divorce, you find yourself back in the arms of your first love. After all, things are different now and you're not kids anymore. But after a weekend lost in heavy snowfall and wishful dreams, you come to the painful realization that some people don't want to change, and others change too much.

A/N: I wrote this inspired by my own experience from a time where I had to decide between my situationship and now-bf. I thought I could pass this message on to ones who need this as well. Sometimes, we make the right decisions, sometimes the wrong ones. Sometimes, it's too late, sometimes it's not. (Also, I miss Jaehyun :( D-497)

Three years. That was how long your marriage had lasted.

“I want a divorce.”

These words shouldn’t surprise let alone hurt you - but they still did. After all, nothing could prepare you for the day your husband decided to divorce you.

You had talked about it before Jaehyun had moved out and mutually agreed on seriously thinking about an official separation while taking this six month break from each other. 

Yet, hearing this final decision out loud from your own husband’s lips made it real. And even though it had been foreseeable and up to a point even inevitable, you hadn’t been prepared for reality, for the fact that now, this was indeed real.

Your husband didn’t want to be married to you any longer. 

How was that even possible?

We walk down the aisle, thinking it will be forever. Donned in our white gown, the veil in our hair and the flower bouquet close to our chest, we are full of hope, light and love for the person who awaits us by the altar. 

“Till death do us part” is considered the love line of our lives as we all desire to vow it one day to our partner.

But thinking about it, it sounds morbid. We stand in front of witnesses and promise to the heavens that it will literally take a terminal illness, a fatal accident or another forced act of nature to tear this love apart. 

The painful truth is that it takes much, much less.

It often takes minimal profound, heroic and inspiring reasons for two married people to never look at each other again. Oftentimes, love doesn’t get torn apart by death. It gets torn apart by pent-up arguments, lack of commitment and the belief that everything you already own still isn’t enough.

“What about Kang Kang?”

Your throat was so dry, you didn’t even recognize your own voice, and Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were wrinkled, hair completely askew. 

There had been a time, back then in university, where on weekends, you both had looked like that, but for entirely different reasons. You were just staying at home, playing games and watching movies together. It had been the best and most carefree time of your lives. The strict business man Jaehyun had turned into throughout the years would have never left the house looking like this.

At this moment, you could see your past boyfriend in your husband again, who you had long deemed missing, and you wondered where you both had taken the wrong turn in your once fairytale-like relationship.

“He’s your dog on paper,” Jaehyun said nearly matter-of-factly. “You can keep Kang Kang.”

You bit into your bottom lip, so hard that you swore you could nearly taste something metallic. “Is this your final decision?”

In the break of the second that he needed to answer, you grew hopeful again. Hopeful that your husband would admit this decision was wrong, that he wanted to work on things for you two to be happy again.

Because this was the conclusion you had come to last night. You didn’t want a divorce, you didn’t want to give this all up. You wanted your little family, you wanted your husband and your dog, and children of your own in the future.

But instead, Jaehyun said with a tired, but determined voice,

“It’s my final decision.”

____

If Jaehyun were a season, he’d be summer. 

He was the feeling of getting woken up by sunshine tickling the tip of your nose. He was the salt on your skin when you emerged from the sea, the sand beneath your toes and the water dripping from your hair tips. He was the shade under a tree on sweltering days and flowers blooming in all colors.

He was everything good, fair and bright.

… Until summer vanished and you were left alone when seasons changed. It didn’t only become clear by change in weather, but also by the fact that Jaehyun had taken every last piece of himself out of your once shared apartment.

By the next week, he had officially filed for divorce. 

Summer had come to an end.

____

If Jaemin were a season, he’d be winter.

He was the feeling of thick sweaters when you got dressed on a cold day. He was the sound of snow crunching under your boots, the cup of hot chocolate you drank while watching the icebound lake. He was the snowstorm that came overnight and locked you in, causing chaos and destruction.

Jaemin was charming, tempting and dangerous.

But who, after a hot, sweltering summer, had never not anticipated a beautiful winter wonderland?

Luckily, winter came early that year.

____

“Why are you calling me at this hour?”

You stared at the skyline stretching in front of you. The few cars passing by were only recognizable by their headlights, but apart from that as well as a handful of windows reflecting some light in the building across from you, it was a quiet and dark night, the clock showing 3am.

“Why are you picking up?” you asked.

A light hearted laughter that made your heart jump followed. “I will always pick up when you call, you know that.”

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed by as you opened the balcony door and stepped outside, closing it again behind you. You turned your head to the sky and watched the moon, and you knew Jaemin was doing the same right now. 

“Did you already sign and send out the papers?” Jaemin questioned.

“Yes,” you answered, and as you spoke, you could see a small cloud forming in front of your face. “They are at my lawyer’s now to get checked. So perhaps, by next week, his lawyer will get them and send them out to him to sign too. Then, I’ll be a divorcée.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Why not?”

“It sounds like you’ll be a lonely, sad woman.”

“Well, if anything, I’ll be a lonely, sad dog-mom.” Your gaze wandered aside to the balcony door from where you could see Kang Kang sleeping peacefully on this dog bed in the very corner of the living room.

“You’re neither going to be a lonely, sad woman nor a lonely, sad dog-mom. You’re going to be free. You should be happy.”

“I can only be happy with you.”

Jaemin let out a chuckle that came in unison with a cool winter breeze grazing your skin, and only now you noticed how icy it actually was outside, only dressed in your pajamas and a bathrobe. But right now, you didn’t mind the cold. You only tried to remember the last time you had felt so… like Jaemin had said… happy. 

It had been half a year since Jaehyun had come to you to file for a divorce and already a full year since you had actually started living in separation. That was enough time to move forward when you had been long unhappy before.

You could finally quit pretending, quit fighting, quit caring. You had finally reconnected with the man you had always referred to as your first love, willing to start all over again with him.

Then why, when you looked at the night sky, the only thing your mind wandered back to was still the night Jaehyun had proposed to you?

Back then, he had just graduated from university and you had been working in your job for two years already. He had saved up all the money that he had earned while being enlisted to buy you the perfect engagement ring that was now kept hidden in your drawer along with the wedding band. A very beautiful ring that had once been a symbol for a very beautiful relationship.

His proposal had taken place under the night sky too, in privacy like you had wished for, with only the moon and stars as witnesses. It had hurt to look at the night sky for a very long time after your separation. But it didn’t anymore now, it was more of a nostalgic feeling.

As though Jaemin could read your thoughts, he said, “Don’t worry, when we get married, we don’t have to go through a divorce, I’ll get you an even more striking ring.”

“Stop joking.”

“I’m not joking,” he obliged. “I mean it.”

“Jaemin…” You swallowed, hard. “What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying,” you overheard him taking a deep breather, “if I had done things right the first time, we would have stayed together after high school and you would have gotten married to me instead, and you wouldn’t need to go through all this now.”

You both knew that this wasn’t true. 

There had been grave things that had led to the downfall of your first relationship and you into the arms of your soon-to-be ex-husband. Things that had been totally out of your might to control as you had been so young. But that was long in the past and you had both grown enough as people to pick up where you had left off and do it better this time. 

After all, Jaemin was your first love. That meant something, that was something special.

You sighed. “We were only kids. But now we’re adults. We now have the chance to do it better than back then, Jaemin, and that means to always be honest with each other.”

“I mean every word I said.”

You felt your heart turn heavy. “But for me, it means that I don’t think I will be ready to get married again in the next few years. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that.” His light-hearted laughter took the weight from your chest at an instant. That was what had always fascinated you about Jaemin. Everything seemed so easy and carefree with him. “I’ll wait. One year, two years, five years, ten years… I’ll wait until you’re ready again.”

“Back then, you never wanted to get married and always dreamed about getting famous, moving to America....” You only then realized that it could be taken as an insult and wanted to correct yourself quickly, but he preempted, 

“Back then, I chose foolishness over commitment. But this time, I mean it and I will come get you next week.”

“Get me?” You raised a brow. “To where?”

“To Jeonju."

“To do what?”

“To be with me.”

“I can’t move to Jeonju so suddenly, Jaemin. I have a job here, my apartment, my dog, my family, especially my grandma…”

“Then only for the weekend. Bring Kang Kang with you. And the rest, we’ll figure it out together.”

Silence from your end, but he was being patient. “Do you mean it?”

“I mean it this time too. It’s been two weeks since we’ve last seen each other and we only met twice overall since back then. I know there is so much going on in your life right now, but I need more of you. And you could need a break from your daily life. So come to me.”

A romantic weekend in Jaemin’s home in Jeonju sounded exactly like what you needed right now. 

So you answered, “Okay, let’s do it.”

You were looking forward to winter.

____

The first family gathering without your husband took place two days later, the weekend before you planned on leaving for your short trip to Jeonju.

You had informed your mother about your separation two weeks after the official decision via a text message, very short and dry. You hadn’t wanted to speak to anyone as to why and when, ignoring all upcoming calls from every family member since the news had spread like wildfire. It had been hard enough the first time already when you had to explain why your husband had moved out. You couldn’t do this all over again.

Not because you were rude. But because you were still hurting and you feared that speaking about it stirred up feelings you had long locked up deep inside your heart. Only now, you were ready to face everyone again. Because half a year later, you were fine again.

Your big family adored Jaehyun so much, especially your grandmother, so you still met her with a heavy heart. To her, Jaehyun had been the perfect grandson-in-law, everything she had ever wished for you, and the feeling had been mutual since you had rarely seen your own relatives act with your grandmother as closely as Jaehyun had.

Whenever you had visited, he had brought her gifts, helped her with the chores and told her stories that made her laugh her heart out. Nobody else had done all this with such sincerity and continuity as Jaehyun, and it broke your heart to know that you had robbed her of this experience forever.

Your grandmother was celebrating her 80th birthday that Saturday, and with her declining health you didn’t know for how many more birthdays she could still be around, so you wanted to spend the remaining time with her, even if it was only you alone.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

You were sitting on the couch in her living room while everyone else was still dining, chatting and laughing.

“I think I’m doing quite fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

She reached out her weak, fragile hand and touched your cheek. You started to wonder when your grandmother had aged so much. The woman who had watched over you when you were still a child, had driven you to school, had made you food, and had let you spend the weekends with her. The one who had dried your tears when you had gotten your heart broken in school, who had picked up every single broken piece of you throughout the years.

She couldn’t do all that anymore, but she still could tell how you were feeling just by taking a brief look at you.

You couldn’t deceive your grandmother, so you just shrugged and her hand slipped from your cheek right into yours, squeezing it meekly. 

“It’s alright to still mourn him, sweetheart. If, at some point in your life, you realize that you have made the wrong decision, don’t hesitate for a single second and tell him.”

“What do you mean?”

You didn’t believe in the term ‘the one that got away’ which people would commonly use to describe a lost lover they were still thinking about all the time. You believed that you could grow to love someone just as much as you could grow to stop loving someone. If humans could never move on, how were they supposed to continue living?

“Your grandfather…” Around your grandmother’s thin lips played a mild smile that gave her face back something very youthful. “He was and will always be the love of my life. I married him young and I stayed loyal to him until he passed away. I loved him with my whole heart and he was the only person that had ever evoked such feelings inside of me.”

It tightened around your chest as it reminded you painfully of Jaehyun.

“But there was a time before our marriage,” your grandmother continued, and although the smile around her lips was still present, it wasn’t quite merry anymore, but rather pained, “where we were separated, because we didn’t know whether we should get married or not. There was still so much to see in the world, so many people to get to know. Why would we settle so early? So we decided we wouldn’t.”

“Grandma, you never told me that.” You squeezed her hand back to comfort her.

“I got back with my first ever love from when I was still a teenager. The timing was just right, we both seemed to have evolved so much. Maybe fate wanted us to take this path and meet again much later.”

Now, warmth grew in your heart as it reminded you of Jaemin. 

You had gotten to know each in the second year of high school when he transferred to your school, and the two years that followed was a whirlwind of ups and downs that, looking back at, you wouldn’t have wanted to miss a single second of. After all, it had forged you into the person you were now, and also into the one that had met Jaehyun and had now led you back to Jaemin. 

But you feared your story would separate from your grandmother’s at this point. “How did you then end up with grandpa?”

You now understood why your grandmother was wearing that expression. It wasn’t a fully happy core memory anymore, nor a completely sad one either. It was bittersweet. “It didn’t work out the second time around as well.”

“...May I ask why? You sounded so happy. What happened?” It wasn’t like you wanted to push her boundaries, you were genuinely curious as you secretly found yourself in a similar position now.

“When one day, I returned home, I encountered your grandfather by my house. Apparently, he had waited two days and nights for me and refused to leave unless I talked to him. So I did and he officially proposed. I wanted a week to think about this, and when I, following this event, wanted my first love to make a decision, he couldn’t.”

“He didn't want to marry you?”

“Even after all these years, he didn’t know whether he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. And I wanted a man that knew.” 

You inhaled deeply. “And you never went back to your first love.”

“I never went back to him,” she repeated. “Not because I didn’t love him, but because I knew your grandfather would show up in ways he could never. And that was what I wanted.”

You were asking yourself whether your grandmother told you this story on purpose. But then again, she never did anything without a purpose. She wanted you to learn something from it, and it actually hurt you quite a bit that she was questioning your decision.

“I don’t regret it. Do you regret it, grandma?”

“I don’t regret anything either, sweetheart, absolutely not.” You were worried that she might conceal the truth from you, but from her voice alone and the way her mien changed to the one she was always wearing when she talked lovingly about your grandfather, you were assured that she was being honest and always had been. “Sometimes, I still think about him and wonder where he is, what he’s doing if he’s still al-... And it’s normal. Sometimes, I wonder what if. But if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t have chosen differently.”

Your grandmother’s gaze wandered to the coffee table where you spotted something very familiar for the first time since you had arrived: a pink bouquet consisting of different summer flower arrangements. The one Jaehyun and you usually got together and brought over to your grandmother whenever you visited.

This time, you hadn’t had time to bring anything, and admittedly it had also slipped your mind completely. Yet, the very same bouquet was standing there on the coffee table.

“Jaehyun was here?” you breathed.

She nodded. “This morning.”

You weren't surprised. This was typical of Jaehyun. He always thought about others first, never missing an event, always reliant and considerate. With your own mind always wandering, you had very much relied on him and he had never complained about taking matters into his own hands.

“Grandma, I-” You didn’t know why your heart suddenly felt so heavy.

“I’m not telling you what to do, sweetheart. I’m just wondering if nowadays, before a couple decides to divorce, they have already given everything. There is a reason you were married in the first place. That’s all. That is something you should always think of.”

Yes, you had given everything, every day and minute of your marriage. 

When Jaehyun had stayed for work longer, then worked during the weekends and then rarely came home anymore. When you had started to feel lonely, not appreciated and unheard of your feelings. When, every time you had still seen each other, every minor thing led to an argument where one of you needed to leave the house. 

You had tried, over and over again. 

“I have given it my all, grandma. I have.”

“If you can confidently say that, then move on, sweetheart.”

____

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You followed Jaehyun into his new apartment, Kang Kang passing by you. He was jumping up and down, circling around Jaehyun like the happy labrador he was. As you had figured out, there were no dogs allowed in Jaemin’s apartment, so you had asked Jaehyun to take care of him this specific weekend.

You wondered whether it was selfish of you and quickly came to the conclusion that yes, it was, and cruel on top of that too. That was why you hid the truth from your soon-to-be ex-husband and had told him you had work in Jeonju this weekend and no other family could take Kang Kang. At least the latter was the truth as you had earnestly tried it everywhere before, but to no avail.

At least, you knew Kang Kang was in good hands, and he hadn’t seen his human dad in so long either. You put your dog’s belongings in the living room, which consisted of his bed, a few toys, his bowls and other necessities.

“Don’t you have to work this weekend, though?” you asked Jaehyun politely. 

You still didn’t know how to behave in front of him whenever you had to interact. This was actually the third time you met since your official separation half a year ago with the first two being the time he had to pack his stuff and move out completely. How did one interact with the person you were soon to be called ex-husband?

You were nervous and anxious, but also somehow happy to see him, because you hadn’t seen each other in three months. Jaehyun was still Jaehyun, he hadn’t changed. You wondered whether he was dating someone new now too, though.

“I actually requested time off this weekend when I knew Kang Kang would come,” he answered almost nonchalantly. “Do you want something to drink? I’m sorry, I only have water.”

You weren’t sure whether the water would help the lump that had built in your throat to disappear, so you declined. And just like that, Jaehyun had requested an entire weekend off when you had had begged him in the past to do so over and over again. You were hurt, once again, and it showed all over your face. 

“I’ve started a new job, actually,” he quickly explained, but you didn’t know whether it would make it all better, truth to be told. “Less salary, but since I’m living alone now, it’s fine. They still pay well enough and I have more time to myself.”

You deadpanned, “Good for you.”

It shouldn’t bother you anymore, it really shouldn’t. But you couldn’t shake off the fact that Jaehyun had changed his work and lifestyle almost so easily right after separating from you when he hadn’t been able to do exactly that while still with you. What had hindered him all this time?

Jaehyun, sensing already where this conversation would lead to since you had been there over and over again in the past, quickly changed the topic. “How is your grandma?” 

You unpacked Kang Kang’s stuff while he arranged the bed for him where he thought your dog would like it. 

“Quit playing, I know you visited her.”

He let out a shy laugh. “Did she tell you? I purposely told her not to.”

“She didn’t have to, really. I saw the flowers and knew immediately.”

You turned around to him, and even from the side, while he was kneeling down and petted Kang Kang, you perceived how shy he had gotten as his ears had turned slightly red. 

“I was worried about her since she hasn’t been feeling well these past months. So I wanted to check up on her. I didn’t want to break tradition, you know. Yet.”

“I know,” you admitted and quietly added, “Thank you for that.”

“I hope she’ll get better soon.”

He shifted in your direction and smiled, and this reaction made you longing for easier times where you didn't have to deal with the fact that this was the last time he had seen your grandmother.

Had you been too greedy, wanting too much that he hadn’t been willing to or couldn’t give yet? Had you pressured him too much and driven him away instead? Should you have been more patient with him and supported him, even though you hadn’t condoned any of his actions? Had it only been a rough patch and you would have come over it by now? 

Those were questions to which you would probably never get an answer. It was all too late now anyway. The papers were signed from your side.

“Jaehyun…” you whispered and wondered whether he had heard it as he suddenly interrupted you with,

“Ah, I’m sorry but you have to leave now.” He arose from the crouch and scratched the back of his head. “I actually have a visitor over the weekend and she’ll arrive soon.”

“She…?”

He nodded with a hint of reluctance.

You couldn’t explain why this revelation hurt almost just as much as the day Jaehyun had opened up about wanting a divorce. You were seeing someone else too, probably for longer than him, but you didn’t want him to be dating anyone else, giving her everything you had been asking of him for so long. 

You should be happy for him to have finally changed and wanting to make it better with the next woman he would grow to love. Yet, all you could think about was that he had never been able to give it to you.

You were so selfish.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly and grabbed your purse, moving to the entrance door. 

“Hey.” You heard footsteps, and before you could grab the handle, Jaehyun was already holding you back by your arm. “I’ve known you for too long to unsee the fact that you’re upset. And let me tell you, I understand why you’re angry.”

You lowered your head so that he couldn’t read your exact expression. But he didn’t need to. He never needed to. To him, you had always been an open book. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jaehyun…”

“You’re probably asking yourself why I couldn’t change my job to have more time for you too. Just like I’m asking myself why you couldn’t have been more independent and wouldn’t rely on me only. We’ve both come quite a way, haven't we?”

You took credit for the not independent enough part. After all, since freshman year, you’ve only had Jaehyun. He had been the center of your life, of your universe, and this view had shifted into a toxic direction you never wanted to look into again. You truly had turned codependent at some point, you owed that part. 

All that was left to do was not letting these negative traits affect your new relationships. That was a promise you didn’t only need to make to yourselves, but to your new partner, too.

“Do you think… Do you think we could have reached this point too if we had stayed together? This is what we have wanted, right?”

After all, it didn’t matter anymore. But you really wanted to hear this opinion, whether he thought the same. 

He admitted, “I don’t think we could have evolved like that if we had stayed together.”

“I think so too.” You shrugged off his grip and pulled down the door handle. 

“If you ever need something… I’m always here, okay? Call me, text me, no matter how late, I don’t care. I will always be here for you.”

After all, he was still so good, fair and bright.

It was unfair that you couldn’t offer the same kindness in return. Envy never looked good on anyone.

You switched to a cold business-tone. “My lawyer told me you received the papers already.”

“I did yesterday. I’ll sign them this weekend and pass them on on Monday.”

“See you on Sunday then when I come to pick up Kang Kang.”

And then, you left without another word.

____

“I have a gig tonight, but don’t worry, we can drop off your things first and head right there,” Jaemin declared. “I already told them to start the soundcheck without me.”

“Gig?” Jaemin had picked you up with his car from the train station and you were currently on your way to his house. “I thought we were going to spend the whole weekend… you know, at your place.”

“We will, we will!” he repeated and put his hand on your thigh while the other was still holding onto the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about that. It’s only tonight. Besides… you’ll get to know all my friends and bandmates too, so that’s gonna be fun!”

You should actually be excited about getting involved with his life right off the bat, but you couldn’t help but to feel more anxious about meeting new people when all you wanted to do was to spend a cozy weekend at Jaemin’s place, just the two of you. You wanted to take your sweet time, learning about each other, and only each other, again.

Jaemin had always been an extrovert while you were the complete opposite, and in all these years, this fact hadn’t seemed to have changed at all - just like him always forgetting how hard it was for you to come out of your shell. But you decided that you weren’t going to be hurt over this and see it as a compliment to get introduced to his friends and lifestyle so short into the relationship.

Perhaps, this was also a sign for you to break out of your shell that had only hardened throughout the years you had spent with Jaehyun as he was very similar to you. You couldn’t always live that way and accepted Jaemin offering to show you a new lifestyle.

“I’m looking forward to it!” you exclaimed and shifted your head back to the street, swallowing your anxiety and just hoping it wouldn’t resurface.

____

But it did later that night when you stood by the bar in that very small club, the crowd dancing and singing along to tunes you had never heard before, and you suddenly felt so alone and lost. 

Back in the days, Jaemin had also been in a band, just one of many self-formed ones in school, but his band had always been the most popular, because, well, he himself was so popular. And even now, he was remaining true to his image, flirting with the crowd through his mimicry and gestic, radiating a charisma that would have all girls on their knees in front of him if only he asked.

Since he was with you now though, you felt proud and a bit haughty that he was still so popular and you had him all to yourself. But also, on the other hand, you were questioning if the negative feelings from your teen years would resurface…

The irritation when he hadn’t looked at you even once during his performances. The doubts when he had always winked at another girl during his solos. The jealousy when he had eventually talked to said girls after his performances, treating you like air.

But this Jaemin… he was different. Just when he finished and you viciously feared that it all would be repeated again, he passed by the entire crowd, not sparing his female fans even a single glance, and walked straight up to you.

“How was I?” he asked with a beam and you fell happily into his arms.

“Amazing!”

He laughed. “I’m so happy you liked it! Here, let me introduce you to my bandmates.”

So many new faces, but you were feeling welcomed from the very first moment on. There was no need to be anxious about feeling left out and to be nervous about nobody wanting to talk to you. You were having so much fun and everyone wanted to talk to you, wanting to know more about Jaemin’s girlfriend.

You hadn’t known he had already introduced you as such and felt very honored.

“Let’s have a toast!” Jaemin then raised up his shot.

“This will be our fourth toast!” a band member pointed out. “What do we still have to celebrate?”

You felt Jaemin’s strong arm around your shoulder, claiming you in front of all his friends and his entire band. “We’re celebrating her divorce. I’ve waited many years for her to separate from her husband, and now I can have her all to myself, for my entire life!”

You blushed at his loud confession. That didn’t seem like your Jaemin who you had known for so long at all. He had always been openly flirty and charming, but love confessions were never really his thing. Until now, apparently.

“So you want to marry her and spend the rest of her life with her?” someone teased. “What happened to Jaemin and when do we get him back?”

You quickly shook your head and waved aside. “Please, he’s only joking!”

“I’m quite offended you think I’m joking!” Jaemin objected and turned to you to make the conversation more private. “I mean it. We will spend the rest of our lives together. No matter where.”

This had suddenly turned into such an intimate moment, and all of his band mates sensed it which was why they pretended to be occupied with each other.

“You can’t say things like that so casually here!” you chided. “You’re probably drunk.”

“I’m actually quite sober and can think straight, and these thoughts currently always lead me to one desire: I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if you marry me or not, I just want you to always be with me. We will make it work. With your job, your dog, and your family. Even if it means I will have to come to you and live in the capital.”

“The Jaemin back then wouldn’t have uttered these words at all. He was always talking about going to America, getting famous with his music…”

“Well, I can still go to America. But with you. And one day, when you decide that you’re ready, even if we’re old and grey, we can get married.”

He then kissed you, and you dared to daydream just a little bit. In one possible future, you actually saw yourself watching your husband, Jaemin, standing on the stage of a big stadium in America while the crowd cheered, but he only had eyes for you who stood in the first row. 

One faraway possible future, you didn’t dare to venture in further, because in this one, you were still married and it would take so, so much time until you could actually think of accepting a proposal ever again.

Forgotten was the toast still, and you and Jaemin called it an early night. You were surprised, because back in the days, he would have partied until the sun went up, and longer.

“I want to spend the remaining time with you,” he only said and led you out of the venue by your hand.

Maybe, just like you and Jaehyun, Jaemin had evolved too - to the man you had always needed him to be.

____

The next morning, it had started snowing.

The blanket slipped from your naked shoulder when you arose, the mattress giving in under you as a result of you bracing your hands against the surface. Jaemin was still sleeping soundly next to you. Of course, because a brief look at your phone told you that it was only 7am on a saturday.

Yet, you didn’t want to miss this beautiful, quiet hour and slipped out of the bed. Throwing on Jaemin’s t-shirt from the night before, you walked to the big window that offered a panoramic view of the landscape. 

There were only a handful of high rise buildings in his city and no skyscrapers were seen far and wide. The horizon was a bit cloudy, but the beautiful landscape was still recognizable through the falling snow. 

You had been to Jaemin’s hometown only once when you were together as teenagers. He had been sent to Seoul to attend a better school and eventually university, but had moved back after his degree.

You loved it here, it was the entire opposite of the bustling and ever lively capital. But living here, you wondered, would you get bored eventually? It was quite the contrary to your personality, but you had always enjoyed your environment being fast and never sleeping while you stood still. It gave you the feeling of never being alone while actually being alone.

A kiss on the back of your neck let you shudder, but in a good way. You giggled and turned around to Jaemin who had his arms wrapped around you now. His muscles were well-built and tense in your grip.

“Look Jaemin, it’s snowing!” you pointed out. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Mhhmm,” he muttered, but he didn’t look. “I know a more beautiful view, and it’s also in front of me.”

His voice sounded so sexy when he had just woken up. He embraced you tighter and kissed your temple. “You’re so charming as always.”

Jaemin chuckled. “Why are you up so early already?” he then asked you and gently rocked you in his arms. “You can still sleep.”

“I know, it’s just…” You shrugged. “I want to spend as much time with you here as possible.”

“Oh, does that mean I have to get up now too?” he seemingly wailed. “But what if I don’t want to get out of bed yet? Is there something we can do in bed together?” 

You didn’t need to be told twice, but let yourself get carried, with both of your legs hooked around his waist, back to the bed. Letting out a laugh, Jaemin threw you onto the mattress and then crawled on top of you. He was still naked from last night, his muscles flexing nicely in the dim morning light.

You stretched out your arms and placed them around his neck. Gently, you pulled him close to you so that your nose tips touched, and smiled. You wanted to stop time right here and now, and bathe in this intimate moment for a while longer.

Jaemin didn’t know the words ‘enjoy’ and ‘patience’ though as not much later, sweat droplets started to collect on his chest, making his skin glisten with every shift that he performed on top of you. Your breathing came in hitches and caught every time he pushed himself deeper into you.

“You like that?” he whispered into your ear, causing goose bumps to spread all along your neck.

“I lot…” A gasp passed your lips when his wet tongue licked your earlobe.

It had slipped your mind when you had last felt this deeply satisfied. What Jaemin was doing right now even topped the events from last night when you had returned to his apartment, even though you had thought that it was impossible to top that.

You stretched out your legs and placed them around Jaemin’s waist, pushing your hips up. 

“Hm?” He raised his head and locked eyes with you, revealing a sneaky smile that was accompanied by a cocked brow to emphasize his feigned surprise. “What’s that? You’re impatient already?”

“It’s you,” you said. “I just can’t get enough.”

Jaemin lowered his head again and started sucking on the side of your neck. You were sure you would be able to see a few faint bruises later on, but it was the time to wear scarves anyway and you wanted him to mark you in every way possible. 

Your fingers entangled in his soft hair that then slipped through the gaps between them, and after a few bypassing moments of absolute stillness from his side where you slowly grew even more impatient, Jaemin started to move inside of you again. 

When you were a teenager, you had lost your virginity to Jaemin after a few months of dating. He hadn’t been as insecure, nervous and awkward as you, because of course, the most popular boy from the band had already gained experience. And it seemed like he hadn’t lacked keeping to do so.

Or how else did he know to slip out with only the tip remaining so that you could quickly catch your breath, just to thrust back inside you with full force again? You couldn’t help but scream every time he penetrated that sweet spot, and he made sure to hit with every single motion.

The sheets grew wet under you as you were sweating so much, and in the peripheral of your blurry vision, you noticed that it had turned a bit lighter already in the apartment. God, for how long had this been going on, and how much more could you take?

You were already calling out, “Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin!”, mixed with dry screams that only grew more hoarsely, but you couldn’t seem to reach the anticipated release. Whenever you faced him, you only encountered his wicked, charming grin, and were assured that release was nowhere near yet.

Time and space blurred together for you and your mouth hung open, longing for air as he ripped you off it with his thrusts, again and again. The neverending string of a nearing orgasm was always graspable, but remained out of reach as each time, Jaemin took a brief pause by halting his motions and never pulling out entirely. 

“Please…”

You didn’t know why he was doing that or where he had even learned to be this skilful to drag it out for so long, and truth to be told, you also didn’t want to know. At this point, you were only worried that he was punishing you on purpose, for dumping him back in the days, and for letting him wait for so long. Fair enough, you accepted this kind of punishment over anything else. 

Jaemin drew his face close and licked over your dry lips. “I want to hear you beg.”

You didn’t care anymore at this point. You pressed him close to you, drawing your thighs even tighter around him. “Please, Jaemin!”

“Louder.” A low growl into your ear. But eventually, you felt him moving again.

“Please, Jaemin. PLEASE!”

“Louder!” he summoned.

“JAEMIN, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, I BEG YOU, PLEASE!”

The next moment, it felt like a wave came crashing down over you after trying to swim away from it all this time. It only took Jaemin two more skilled thrusts at the right angle until you let out a long-lasting scream that was on the brink of waking all the neighbors up, but you didn’t care.

You felt your insides clenching around him, your legs shaking in the aftermath while your fingers simultaneously dig deep into his skin as though you were holding onto a lifeline, nails grazing along his back and leaving long marks that would also be visible for quite a time.

Jaemin followed almost directly after you. He was gracious and quiet about it, but you knew him well enough to see that he was still enjoying it a little too much as he revealed himself by a low whimper that he tried to hide in the side of your neck, followed by a long sigh. His arms were shaking as he lost all strength and limply fell on top of you.

Your fingers were still on the back of his head, slowly stroking and comforting him while he was coming down from his heights. Your sweaty chest heaved up and down with Jaemin’s head on top of it.

For a moment, it was silent, only your regular breathing rhythms audible. 

In that moment, you wondered when you had last felt this happy.

____

“Are you with Jaemin this weekend?” 

Jaehyun’s anger was palpable through the phone. You moved away from the queue, signaling Jaemin that you had to take this call while he was lining up to buy you octopus skewers.

“Uh… I-”

Your still-husband had caught you red-handed and you didn’t know what to answer, because you hadn’t been prepared for this kind of situation. Only now, you realized that it would have been better to not have picked up the call at all when you had seen his name popping up on the display - ‘hubby’ and a heart. You still hadn’t brought yourself to change it to his government name.

“Answer me,” he demanded when your stuttering slowly grew uncomfortable and you settled for a quiet corner to talk to him.

“Jaehyun…”

“Someone sent me a video of his stories from last night and you were in it. I should have known the first thing you’d do would be running to him.”

How was that possible? You didn’t have mutual friends anymore from back then who would have cared enough as all contact had started to dwindle down at some point. And as far as you knew, these two had each other blocked everywhere. Unless they didn’t anymore and Jaehyun was lying to cover up that he had been digging.

“Jaehyun, that’s not fair at all.”

You heard a snort, followed by dead silence, but he didn’t hang up. “When did you want to tell me you were spending the weekend with my best friend?”

Dead silence again, but this time from your side of the line. Eventually, you reproached, “You haven’t been best friends for four years.”

“You told me you weren’t in contact anymore since he tried to creep back into your life even shortly after our marriage and I had to nearly physically fight him when he suddenly stood in front of our door.”

“We weren’t in contact!” you defended yourself. “But he had gotten wind of our separation and then hit me up again. Initially, it was just small talk, how I was doing and dealing with the situation. This is only the third time we've seen each other ever since. I really wasn’t in contact with him all this time, Jaehyun.”

“You never blocked his number or his socials as you had promised or otherwise, how could he have reached you?”

“I did! I told you I did, and I immediately did so back then! He contacted me from another number as he had changed his phone contract. I’ve never lied to you throughout our entire marriage! Don’t doubt me now just for me to fit your narrative, Jaehyun.”

“Hm.” He always let out this sound when he was at a loss for words, but didn’t want to drop the topic just yet. “I see.”

Somewhere in the background you heard Kang Kang and suddenly felt so guilty. Yet, you shrugged it off. You were too happy to get dragged down by his double standards right now. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about why I wanted to go to Jeonju. But honestly, Jaehyun, you also have a female over this weekend, don’t you?”

“I told you straight-forwardly. Also, she’s not an ex or your best friend, and certainly not my first love.”

He was right. The way you had handled this situation was certainly not pretty or fair at all. Why hadn’t you told him the moment you asked him to take care of Kang Kang? 

Perhaps, because Jaemin had always been a threat to your relationship, long before your marriage and after it too. And it had always been your fault, even though you had complied with Jaehyun's requests about blocking and deleting him.

Somehow though, whenever Jaemin wanted to find you, he always did. And he was lucky to now have found you at a time where you had wanted to be found as well.

“Jaehyun…”

He let out a long breather and you imagined him shaking his head at this very moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m calling. I just thought… It’s not even my right anymore to know who you’re with and what you’re doing, but… really, him out of all people?”

“Jaehyun…”

He hadn’t been in Jaemin’s band, but in the same class. You had always seen him around, but never interacted as you had rarely hung out with Jaemin’s friends. He hadn’t wanted that. And when you had finally had enough of his shenanigans after suffering in your on-off relationship for two years, you moved on in university - with your ex’s best friend who had happened to be the complete opposite, and everything you’d ever asked for.

In the beginning, you had tried to keep it a secret, but eventually came clean with Jaemin after a few months, who had reacted in a very mature way. Or so you had thought. You didn’t want to be friends with him as you rarely saw him anyway, but you let them be friends. Eventually, you warmed up to this new dynamic as Jaemin had once been a huge part of your life too. Nothing had seemed weird at first and Jaemin seemingly was okay with it. 

Until it all went downhill.

“Do you remember the day you told him we were engaged?” Jaehyun then asked.

Of course you remembered. Jaemin hadn’t let his true emotions slip, he hadn’t thrown a tantrum, he hadn’t said anything more than,

“Good luck. But you won’t be married for too long, because she’ll be mine again.”

And ever since then, best friends Jaehyun and Jaemin had never spoken a word to each other again.

It was eerie and sad how this prediction had eventually turned out to be true.

“I chose you, because you are kind, dedicated and warm, Jaehyun. Jaemin was fickle, unreliable and unfaithful, yes, but we were almost still kids! He’s changed.”

“That’s what you also said when I was in the army and he tried to test the waters with you again. That he’s changed, when you went back to him shortly. And look how that ended.”

“Are you bringing this up again? We were never involved in that sense again! You were in the boot camp and could only text me for one hour on the weekend, I felt lonely and we wanted to meet up as friends! I was young and stupid, how many times do you still want to hear it?”

“... And he never turned up.”

You bit into your lower lip. If you didn’t know it better, Jaehyun was hurt and jealous. But there was seriously no room for him to feel this way anymore. You were separated and it was only a matter of days until it was official. You didn’t even need to talk to him right now, but somehow, you also couldn’t bring yourself to just hang up.

“This time, he did turn up. Among many other things.” 

Only then did you realize that tears were pricking behind your eyes. In your peripheral, you could watch Jaemin ordering the skewers already, he was not supposed to see you cry.

“And you know that from a day of spending with him?”

“You know, I don’t have to justify myself in front of you, Jaehyun.”

‘If you still love me, then say it out loud!’ that was what you wanted to tell him. You wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him and ask him why he hadn’t told you so earlier. Why Jaemin had to come in between you again for him to finally open his mouth. 

At the other side of the line, it had suddenly turned quiet. 

“Are you sure about it?” you whispered into your phone. “About the divorce.”

“What is this about?” Jaehyun almost seemed angry now. “We’ve talked about it over and over again. This is for the best.”

“Then stop bothering me!”

Finally, you hung up and took a deep breather. Wiping a tear from your cheek with the back of your hand, you turned your head against the sky. It was still snowing, and the flakes melted immediately on your hot cheeks.

“Everything alright?” Jaemin asked when he had reached you. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head and accepted the skewer he was holding out to you. “No, nothing. Let’s go.”

____

Jaemin rolled his head back, his mouth falling agape.

“Yes, just like that.”

You felt his fingertips grazing over the back of your head, and then, with a firm tug, he had your hair between his fingers, tightly pulling on it. You swallowed a pained squeal, but the discomfort passed quickly as you realized it even added up to the sensation of sucking Jaemin off.

You let it slip past your mouth, only trapping the upper part between your lips, and then halted. With the tip of your tongue, you pressed down into the slit where you already tasted his sticky precum. You smiled when you heard him groan.

This time though, Jaemin didn’t let you get away with teasing him so easily. He pushed your head down his length, and as you didn’t have time to prepare yourself for this sudden action, you almost choked at him hitting the back of your throat. 

You weren’t trained in deep throating at all, the only time you had tried, you had wanted to gag so badly. Even now, it wasn’t really a cakewalk for you to suppress the reflex. But as you turned your gaze up and caught Jaemin stretched out gloriously on the couch, enjoying it with angelic moans, you gladly complied, no matter the circumstances.

Jaemin set the rhythm with his fingers still entwined in your hair. He pulled on your strands and lifted your head up his length just to slam you all the way down again until you nearly met his pelvis with your lips. It took you three tries to get rid of the gag reflex and another two to adjust to this submissive act.

“Now, suck it.”

You happily did so as it meant having a break from the excessive motions earlier, and only dedicated yourself to the upper half, sucking him off like a lollipop. You also used your tongue with which you teased him again by letting it glide over the smoothest part, just passing the frenulum. The sound he let out as a result was the loudest you had ever heard pass his lips during an intimate act.

“What was that?” he asked almost breathlessly, and looked down at you.

“You like it?” you wanted to know shyly.

“I love it!” he exclaimed and laughed. “Do it again!”

You felt Jaemin releasing himself into your mouth without a warning not much later, though you felt it pumping past your circled lips. Patiently, you waited until he was done and only let him slip out of your mouth then, falling back into a crouch and wiping over your stained mouth.

With a smirk, Jaemin patted the top of your head, then dropped his hand and angled your chin with his index finger. You faced each other, and you observed his expression changing.

“Now, your turn?” he asked with a bit of danger in his voice.

You swallowed, but didn’t hold him back. You were in for a wild ride.

That was until Jaemin’s phone rang and he needed to interrupt your act. You wanted him to ignore it, but he had already told you beforehand that he was expecting an important call. Just talk about timing…

You wondered what it could be about when you arose after Jaemin had left the room to go to another and take the call. It was kind of a long conversation as you only remembered how you went on to lie in bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone and losing track of time. The next moment, when Jaemin came out again, it was already dark.

You were standing by the window now, the snow still hadn’t stopped falling. As a matter of fact, it was snowing even harder, and you wondered whether by tomorrow morning, the snow would have put a white blanket over the whole country.

“What happened?” you asked, unsure what to read out of Jaemin’s undefined expression.

That was until he broke out into a beam, closed the short distance between you and swept you off your feet. He had his hands placed under your ribs and swung you around with your feet dangling above the floor. 

You laughed and asked, after he had placed you down again, “Will you tell me what happened now?”

“Great news!” Jaemin declared with your hands remaining in his. “That was a producer who’s called me. I’ve been sending demos to different companies for years now, and finally this one is interested in my music! The producer wants to meet me tomorrow, isn’t it great?!”

“Oh, Jaemin! That’s amazing to hear!”

“I know, right?I have to prepare a few things for tomorrow since I have to drive to Gwangju where the company is located, do you mind?” He suddenly drew his brows together and looked very concerned. “I know we had dinner plans, but…”

You immediately shook your head. Of course, disappointment sank into your stomach as you had especially looked forward to this fancy dinner with him. It was your last night together as you were supposed to go home the next day, but another part, a bigger part, didn’t want to be so selfish. She knew that music had always been Jaemin’s dream, and if he could make it his main occupation, who were you to stop him?

“I’m gonna make up for it!” he immediately apologized, led your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. “Tomorrow, fancy brunch or lunch before you leave?”

You nodded, very well aware of the fact that knowing Jaemin for the passionate man that he was, neither brunch or lunch would take place tomorrow. Somehow, it was all high school again, but you were more mature now and there was no room for your own, selfish needs.

Jaemin let go of you and dedicated himself to his music station where he gathered together a few documents. “Imagine,” he then summoned, “if it’s really going to work out and I am really going to be big with my band, we could play so many shows or even do a tour - maybe internationally too! And I would take you with me of course! To America!”

“Jaemin, I have a dog to take care of and a job I’m really dedicated to, you know that. I cannot be on the road for months.” Had he forgotten the words from last night where he had offered to move to the capital for you? Had your wants been overshadowed by his daydreams once again like back in the days?

“Oh yeah…” He scratched the back of his head, but then beamed again. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a solution!”

Again, he was proposing something so far off into the future without asking what you wanted. Aside from the fact that you liked living a domestic life with a stable job and a routine, you didn’t want to be separated from your dog. Or your family, especially your grandmother yet.

And that was what Jaemin didn’t get… again. Just like the fact that you couldn’t think of another marriage already when you were still with one foot inside your current one.

He was impulsive, dreamy and so demanding. But this was what you had wanted, right? Someone to take things into his own hands and consider you in his future, whether you fit in or not.

“Yes, we’ll find a solution,” you eventually replied as he was expecting an answer. And who knew, perhaps you would really find one.

Jaemin turned back to this work and rambled on about how great of a life you two would have together.

Would you, though?

Your current life as it was, was already perfect for you. Just the man in it hadn’t been.

____

With shaking hands, you swiped over your phone screen until, from your blurry vision, you finally saw your husband’s name pop up. Hubby and a heart next to it. You still hadn’t changed it, and for now, you were glad for that as it had made finding his contact easier.

It was only 7am on a sunday, but you knew Jaehyun would pick up no matter how early or late, no matter what, regardless of your dispute from the day before. He had promised.

“Grandmother is in the hospital,” you cried into the phone the moment the ringing stopped. “And I- I can’t go back. I-I don’t have a car and I’m in J-Jeonju, the trains are not running because of the heavy snowfall and I don’t know how to get back, how to get to my grandmother. Jaehyun… C-can you-”

It was rustling on the other line and from your peripheral, you could see Jaemin watching you with a displeased face. 

No questions asked. Jaehyun’s voice was still so deep and raspy as you had just woken him up, but his head was as clear as ever. “Send me the address, I’ll take the car and come pick you up.”

“Th-there is snow everywhere! It’ll probably take hours.”

He didn’t ask why Jaemin wouldn’t drive you or why Jaehyun himself should do this even though you were separated. At this moment, none of this mattered except the fact that he needed to bring you to your grandmother. 

“I don’t care.” There was some noise on his end of the line, and you could have sworn you also heard a female whispering something, but none of this mattered. “I’ll get going now and will text you the estimated arrival time.”

He didn’t care about the weather, the amounts of snow blocking the streets, whether he would even get through the traffic, none of this mattered.

“Thank you,” you whispered through your sobs.

It was like he still wanted to say something, but only brought himself to end the call with, “See you.”

Jaemin waited for you to finish typing the address for Jaehyun first before he spoke up. “I wish I could change things.”

“You can!” you yelled at him, having suppressed your anger for an hour already.

At 6am, you had been unexpectedly awakened by a call from your mother that held unfortunate news you never wished upon anyone to ever receive: Your grandmother was in the hospital as she had fallen in the bathroom that night and had been unconscious for a few hours before she could call anyone for help.

And Jaemin’s reaction? 

He fell into silence again.

“You can change things, but you don’t want to,” you repeated through tears and fled out of the bed as you couldn’t physically bear being close to him anymore.

“That’s not it…” His feeble attempts to defend himself were all to no avail as expected. “It’s just a once in a lifetime chance, if I need to cancel, I might not be able to…”

“My grandmother can also live just this lifetime! I only have her for one lifetime,” you hissed, not sparing him a single glance as you started to throw your belongings into your bag. “She’s fighting for her life in the hospital and you think your music appointment is more important than driving me there? It’s only in the evening, and you’re worried you won’t make it back to your appointment on time, because of the snow?”

“We called your parents and the hospital already.” His voice got louder, more determined now, though it was nothing compared to yours. “She’s fine. You can probably take the train by midday, maybe even forenoon, anyway. I’m just being realistic.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you? Probably because no one has ever been this important to you.”

The moment you had spoken the words out loud, you already regretted it, but an apology refused to pass your lips as Jaemin only said,

“You are this important to me.”

“I don’t believe you as you cannot even do this for me.”

His music was more important, his career and everything connected to it. It would always, always come first, and this was something that was never going to change, and had never changed, you saw it clearly now. 

Your relationship in your adulthood was merely a projection of what it had already been in high school.

Nothing had changed.

____

Jaehyun picked you up from a nearby café four hours later. 

You had directly left Jaemin’s apartment the moment you had gathered all your belongings and hadn’t looked back - neither had he. He hadn’t changed his mind about the situation and he hadn’t tried to hold you back, no matter how much you had wished for it. 

You were standing in front of the café, still in your joggers and with tousled hair, freezing to your bones as the snow touched your naked ankles, but at least Jaehyun was here, regardless of the weather, his appointments and the time.

He was here.

He had always been here. 

You had just been too blind to see it.

The moment he opened the car door at your side, you broke out into tears again, unable to move, and it caused him to actually get out of the car himself to then approach you. 

Suddenly, it got so warm around you despite the weather, and even with your teary eyes closed you realized that Jaehyun had pulled you into an embrace. With his slender fingers, he brushed over the back of your head in a comforting gesture as you sobbed into his jacket.

“Your grandmother will be fine,” he whispered into your hair, unaware of the fact that you were currently not crying over your grandmother anymore, but over the fact that he was here regardless of how ridiculous it might sound.

He had made it through the snow chaos and traffic just to bring you home safely. If this wasn’t what your marriage vows had been about, then what was? Was that what your grandmother had been talking about?

You had two hours to think about it as you made your way back to the capital. There were many things you wanted to ask Jaehyun. How serious it was with that woman, if she was mad he had suddenly left her for his soon-to-be ex-wife and if he himself was mad that he was here now. But first and foremost…

“Why did you come?”

“I told you, you could always call me. No matter how late… or early in this case, I’ll always be there. Despite that, I care about your grandmother and your entire family, too. For a large part of my life, they were also my family.”

“They will always be, Jaehyun.”

“I know.”

His gaze was too focused on the street ahead of you as though it was taking him everything in his might to just keep his eyes averted from you. The majority of the snow had been cleared from the streets already so that cars could drive without many obstacles again. 

“Are you sure about it?” you repeated from your disrupted phone call the day before. “Are you sure about the divorce?”

“Why does it matter?” he asked back strictly. “Haven’t you moved on with my former best friend already, this time for good, because he’s changed so much?”

“That’s not an answer, Jaehyun.”

You had no reason to feel so attacked, but it still hurt, because he was wrong, even though Jaehyun didn’t know it yet. Jaemin hadn’t changed at all, and you were too proud to admit it. Perhaps though, you had overreacted as well. Perhaps, everything would have gone so well if only you had been calmer and more rational, and had actually listened to Jaemin. Perhaps, you had done Jaemin so wrong. 

But Jaehyun was now in the car, driving you back home, and not Jaemin, right? Jaehyun was here, and not Jaemin.

“On the way to Jeonju,” he started, “I had a few hours to think about everything. Have we given it all? Was a divorce really our last solution? What could I have done differently, what could you have differently for us to avoid this outcome. And I just… couldn’t come up with an answer. 

“Which means, on the contrary, perhaps a divorce was not a solution either,” you concluded. “But we’ve lived in separation for half a year at that point, Jaehyun. And we were fine with it. We’ve had many talks, so why are we here, ripping open this wound again? What’s the purpose? I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that it only took one weekend for us to doubt this decision.”

“Perhaps, there is none,” he said, and shrugged. “Perhaps, it’s all about what makes us happy, after all. And finding out you lied to me and spent the weekend with him, didn’t make me happy at all.”

Now that he was so honest with you, you could be honest with him too. “I also wasn’t happy when you told me you would get a female visitor this weekend.”

A long pause followed the conversation before you confessed,

“But you picking up the phone and being here with me now, makes me really happy.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “I’m also happy you called me and didn’t rely on him.”

He didn’t ask what exactly had happened with Jaemin, and you also didn’t ask him about the other woman when you arrived at his empty home much later that day to pick up your dog after having visited your grandmother together first. 

She didn’t get hurt except for a bruise by her hip and would be fine after being taken care of in the hospital for a few days. You visited her every day for one week straight, but on neither of these days did you see Jaehyun or Jaemin.

The fact that you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you were too caught up with everything going on at this point that you couldn't waste too many unnecessary thoughts in their behaviors.

____

A week later, you and your mother returned home with your grandma. Despite her refusing your offer, you had still insisted on taking one week off from work and living with her, just in case something could happen again and until she regained her health. 

Nevertheless, you as a family had all agreed on hiring a caretaker that would look after her half a day and who would start right after your week off with her. After a few attempted protests from your grandma’s side though, she had eventually given in as well.

“Where’s all the food I requested?” you asked in astonishment as you opened shelf after shelf in your grandmother’s kitchen, but each of them you found empty. “Didn’t father and uncle do grocery shopping? I made an entire list for them and they knew she’d return today.”

“Oh, they were busy last night,” your mother explained after she had taken your grandmother to her bedroom. “They’ll do it later today.”

You rolled your eyes as you tried to fight the wave of reproach against your family. “Busy with watching football all night long probably. What did they think would happen when we came back home with grandmother? There are no ingredients to make food for her and when I looked into the bathroom, she had also run out of toilet paper. What were they thin-”

“Honey…” Your mom placed her hands on your shoulders to calm you down, but somehow, her not getting as heated up as you was making you even more disappointed. Were you the only one who cared? “Please be reassured that everything is going to be fine.”

“How?” you asked back, a tinge of anger in your voice. “We come back and the sheets are not washed, we have nothing we can make food of for her and we cannot even-”

Your mom exhaled deeply as she tried to convince you again, “Let’s just order the most important necessities online, okay? Then your father and uncle will bring the rest later today, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Sweetheart, will you come here, please?” you heard your grandmother suddenly disrupt your conversation. 

You let out a long sigh, threw another glare at your mom and then left for the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, grandma,” you apologized as you popped into her bedroom with your head first. “I will go to the store right now to bring you the necessities. You don’t need to worry about this, please relax.”

“I do not worry about this,” she reassured you. “I feel so fine here. And you do not need to worry that much either, it’s all going to be fine.”

“No,” you cried out and shook your head, tears welling up on the brim of your eyes. All your feelings came crashing down on you at once, feelings that you had tried to push aside for an entire week. “Nothing is ever going to be fine again!”

You sat down by her bedside and dropped your head. Her soft, warm hand found your fingers and gave them a comforting squeeze. “Is this about your husband?”

“Yes,” you admitted, and ‘no’ you wanted to say simultaneously as this wasn’t about your husband alone. Perhaps, now ex-husband on official papers even. “Why did he never show up again after going to the hospital with me the first day? I thought… he still cared, not only about me, but about you too. I’m so disappointed. I thought he was different.”

The last sentence was dedicated to both of them, though you confessed silently to yourself that you had never expected this from Jaehyun, out of the two. 

“But dear… he did come.”

You lifted your head and wiped away a tear that had dangled on the corner of your eye as you faced your grandmother with much surprise. “What are you saying, grandma?”

“He came every single day in the morning before work, we talked for half an hour when I was awake. I thought you knew?”

You had no idea, and looking at your grandma now, who was grinning widely and also a bit sneakily, made you assume that perhaps, she had kept it a secret on purpose - because the effect, when you found out, would be so much more impactful.

And it was.

“Grandma, I had no idea…”

“That’s why I asked you, before you decided to separate, did you really give it your all and tried everything possible to fix your marriage before moving on? Because, as far as I can see, you’re not the only one not ready to do so entirely.”

“I… I can’t say. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter anymore, grandma,” you eventually said. “Even if we both wanted it, it’s too late. He has probably already signed the papers and sent them out.”

“Fine. But don’t forget my words. If, at some point in your life, you realize that you have made the wrong decision, don’t hesitate for a single second and tell him.” She leaned back into the pillows. “It’s almost afternoon, I want to sleep. Can you close the door behind you then, dear?”

“Of course.” You gave her a kiss on the forehead and quietly walked out of her room.

Back in the kitchen, you saw your mom sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone. Why was she not up and about yet to do some grocery shopping or at least call your father to do the trip? You were fed up by now, fueled by your grandmother’s words too.

“Mom, I’m going to the store and I’ll take your car.”

“Okay.”

That was it. You knew she had had a lot on her plate too, but why did everyone not take this situation seriously enough? 

When you put on your jacket as it was freezing outside, you wondered whether you were overreacting and just putting all your time and energy into this situation, moving here and taking care of things, just so you didn’t need to think about how your own life was falling apart. As long as you could take care of someone else, you didn’t need to face your own problems. Hadn’t this been the root of your downfall as well?

After all, when you returned home after this week, you would get a call from your lawyer to confirm that the divorce was through. You had specifically requested for him not to call while you were here.

What then, after that? Then, you were a divorced woman, and you weren’t ready to settle with this term yet.

“Careful!”

You nearly ran into a tall figure when you opened the entrance door. A familiar scent touched your nose, strong hands holding you by your arms so that you could keep your balance after the impact. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked Jaehyun as your gaze simultaneously scanned his appearance, and you spotted two big bags of groceries to either of his sides on the floor. 

“I thought since your grandmother would come home today, you would need a helping hand,” he stated and pointed at the grocery bags. You saw toilet paper, rice, water, and other necessities peeking out. “I didn’t know what to buy, so I just brought a bit of everything. Is that… okay?”

You couldn’t help yourself but fell into his arms, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulder, and suddenly, this entire situation didn’t seem so difficult and hopeless anymore.

You had felt so left alone, like you had overreacted and that your feelings weren’t valid. But now your husband was here, having shown up in ways nobody else was. Your feelings were valid, they had always been to him.

Perhaps, your grandmother had been right all along. 

No, you hadn’t tried everything possible, because this clearance came way too late now, and you couldn’t apologize anymore for sometimes being a selfish, spoiled brat that had demanded much more from her husband than he was able to give. And always, you had wanted more and more.

Your views on life and the way you wanted to live it had started to take separate roads and you had thought this was not fixable anymore, but was that really what mattered after all?

It wasn’t about who was there for you all the time. Your problems couldn’t have been solved in that way either. That was why it couldn’t have worked out with Jaemin too. It wasn’t about this at all.

It was about who showed up during the times you truly needed someone. And it was always Jaehyun. When you needed support, a helping hand or someone to call during an emergency, he had always been there.

If you needed someone at all times, it could be anyone. But if you needed someone when times were hard, it was Jaehyun.

It had always been Jaehyun. 

“Your grandma is going to be fine,” Jaehyun whispered and gently patted the back of your head.

But you weren’t crying over your grandmother anymore, but about your failed marriage.

Because yes, you regretted it deeply and had not given it your all.

Because now, it was too late.

Neither of you spoke about the divorce papers that day.

____

Jaehyun didn’t come over anymore and neither did you reach out to him during the week you lived with your grandmother. 

You were determined to make it on your own from then on. Very soon, you were an official divorcée and single dog mom, so it was better to start early with this new lifestyle. Knowing you too well, Jaehyun might have already sensed it as he was leaving you completely alone during that time.

You brought Kang Kang with you to live and thus your days started with walking your dog before helping your grandmother get ready and preparing breakfast that you eventually ate together just like the other meals. Even though your grandmother was still able to do most things by herself, you noticed how slower, shakier and sometimes disoriented she had become. 

Time was not stopping, for nobody.

During the day you were occupied with doing chores, taking care of paperwork as well as your grandmother and Kang Kang. At the end of each day, you fell into your bed, absolutely exhausted and tired. Your mind was always occupied as well and there was no space for other things except for those brief moments during nighttime when you were alone and neither busy in a physical way or in your mind.

Then, you stared at the ceiling and wept.

Because you missed Jaehyun so badly and wished for him to be with you. You would have done anything for him to be here right now, but your marriage was over and you needed to move on without him. 

Everyday with this realization was hard, but luckily, no day grew harder than the day before. Eventually, they would only grow brighter.

That was your silver lining. 

____

Realizing that you wanted to be with Jaehyun after all, meant in retrospect that you couldn’t be with Jaemin. And just because you couldn’t be with Jaehyun, didn’t mean you should be with Jaemin. That was not how it worked, unfortunately.

“Hey, it’s me,” you spoke on the phone, watching the skyline from your window the first night you had returned to your home. 

He had promised to always pick up when you called, but this time, he hadn’t. You were struggling to come to terms with the fact that he indeed didn’t want to be reached by you either this time. Perhaps, not anymore at all.

You remembered why you had married Jaehyun.

You had married him, because he took care of the people he loved, because he made things seem more bearable when they weren’t and because when he said he would pick up whenever you called, he actually did. That was not a void Jaemin could just fill.

You would always search for a Jaehyun in his eyes, and that was not fair, because he was not. He was Jaemin, an entirely different person. And there was a person out there that would be perfect for him, too.

“I just wanted to tell you that this is the last time you will ever hear from me.” Softly, Kang Kang was snoring in the corner, filling the pause that then followed.

Maturing was realizing that just because you wanted to be with someone, you shouldn’t be with them. Maturing was realizing that only because you didn’t want to be alone, you should be with someone. Maturing was realizing that even on the third try, some people still weren’t meant to be together.

Tears sprang from your eyes, but your voice gave no hint of it. “Truth to be told, I am very disappointed that you never showed up again… called me, or at least sent a message, asked me how we are. It was a very hard time for me and you just… weren’t there.”

But someone else had been. You dried your cheeks with the back of your hand. 

“Yes, I could have messaged or called you too… but why should I have when I was the one suffering? Admittedly, I also didn’t need to. I handled it all myself very well. That made me realize… I wanted this, Jaemin. I wanted this so much, with you. But I didn’t need it. I don’t need you. And the past weeks made me realize that you feel the same. You don’t need me either.”

You could live without Jaehyun and you could live without Jaemin, you just had to be strong enough to make it on your own now that you had neither. 

And you would make it on your own. 

You had the drive, passion and strength all within you, you just had failed to notice for so long. After all, you had been able to take care of your grandmother, dog and everyone around you for the past weeks. So taking care of yourself wouldn’t be harder than that.

Had you broken down and experienced weak moments? Yes, several times. But that had only made you stronger.

“I’m strong and not afraid, I will always make it on my own. And you will make it too. Go out into the world, perhaps even travel to America where you always wanted to go, make your dream about music come true… I wish for you to achieve everything you’ve ever wanted, with my whole heart.” You swallowed hard and added, “It’s just not going to be with me. I don’t know where my place is yet, but it’s not by your side.”

For now, your best companion was yourself. And your dog. And actually, that was enough.

You finished speaking on the mailbox with, “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

You didn’t hesitate to delete his number and block him all across social media. This time, for good.

The fact that you cried yourself to sleep that night would be your own little secret to keep, but it would also be the very last time you would find yourself in a position to cry over Jaemin, ever.

The next morning, you felt free. The air was clear and crisp. It was cloudy, but not snowing. Thank god.

____

“I apologize for having to tell you this, but Mr. Jeong hasn’t signed the divorce papers.”

“Pardon me?” 

It had been a dreadful feeling to take the call from your lawyer the next morning. The more surprised you were about the actual message he had just passed down to you. Your breath caught.

“His lawyer told me he refuses to sign them and sent them back to me unsigned, that’s why I couldn’t send them to you yet.”

You frowned as you suddenly turned utterly confused. “But why? What did he say? Is there something he still wants to negotiate over?”

“They didn’t tell me, just that he refuses to sign them. I’ll resolve this for you, be at ease.”

“Don’t,” you held him back. “I’ll do it myself.”

“You’re not allow-”

But you had already hung up and were halfway out of the door, he didn’t even come to end his sentence.

____

Not even an hour later, you were standing in front of Jaehyun’s apartment door, ringing the bell like a maniac. He looked at you like he had expected you already as you stood in front of him with your arms folded in front of your chest.

“Took you long enough.”

“Care to explain to me why you sent the documents back unsigned?”

“Come inside,” he invited you calmly.

Your eyes narrowed. “Your girlfriend doesn't mind?”

“We haven’t seen each other since that weekend… and I rather want it to stay this way.”

Your heart jumped. That basically meant they weren’t together anymore, you concluded as you followed him into his apartment and took your shoes off in the corridor. 

“What about Jaemin?” 

“Same.”

It seemed that you both didn’t want to talk about your past lovers, and even though you were curious, if he had to elaborate, then you needed to as well, and there was no way you would ever want to live through the past weeks again.

“I was thinking about our conversation in the car back from Jeonju,” he began as he shifted around to face you the moment you arrived in the living room, “about what makes me happy. When we were separated, we didn’t see each other, and I was happy living a life I haven’t gotten a taste of before. I was happy doing new stuff, trying out new things, being untied from you. Because what made me unhappy… was you.”

Your eye twitched as you didn’t know whether you should feel offended now. But when you let the words sink in and contemplated them, you felt exactly the same. Seeing and spending time with your husband had dreaded you of all your energy and happiness as you two had forgotten how to be happy together anymore.

And you told him exactly that now.

“I agree.” He nodded. “And then I thought about what made me really unhappy. Because up until two weeks ago, I was really happy. And then came you, and you made me feel so miserable.”

You drew your brows together, not quite sure if you had heard right. But you had, and it stung. No, it actually hurt very much that it took all your might to refrain yourself from crying right now. “I… still make you unhappy?”

But Jaehyun’s facial expression didn’t match his words as he nodded. His features were soft, a slight smile playing around his lips. There was no way he could find this amusing?

“It makes me unhappy to see you unhappy. It makes me unhappy to see you suffering because of your grandmother and simultaneously getting mistreated by the guy who is supposed to make you happy. Because if he can’t do it, who will? I was just too blind to see this.”

You dropped your gaze. Jaehyun had. He had shown up in ways nobody else ever had. Just to… see you happy, because he couldn’t stand the thought of you being sad and miserable?

Knowing he was pushing so far, he didn’t wait for you to reply, but instead wanted to know, “What makes you unhappy?”

“When you’re not with me.”

With slow steps, he approached you until he stood tall and calm in front of you. You lifted your head and looked into his clear and sincere eyes.

“Please don’t ask me what will make me happy, Jaehyun,” you pleaded him straight-forwardly. “Because I’m not sure whether you’d like the answer.”

“What if I’d like to hear it?”

You furrowed in worry. “At all cost?”

Jaehyun inhaled sharply as though in tension, but his soft features remained. 

“What if you don’t like it?” you asked.

“You will never know if you don’t try, right?”

‘If, at some point in your life, you realize that you have made the wrong decision, don’t hesitate for a single second and tell him.’ You remembered your grandmother’s words too well.

He didn’t expect it though when you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you. 

He still tasted exactly like in your memories.

____

“Are you excited, Kang Kang?” 

Your dog yelped and ran around in circles. You patted his head when he eventually came to a standstill in front of you and looked up to you with big eyes.

“Are you excited to live with your dad again?”

As though in response, Kang Kang started to whirl around again and you laughed. Lately, you found yourself laughing very often, and every time it came from deep within you with all sincerity and happiness. 

In the past two weeks, your grandmother had started to settle with her new caretaker so that you could cut down your visits to once or twice a week, because you were currently busy moving houses. But each time, Jaehyun came with you, and your grandmother was overjoyed.

You had decided to move into a new home together that wasn’t riddled with memories of a very unpleasant phase in your marriage that had almost ended it for good. It was just as big and beautiful as this apartment, but you had already agreed that that one would only be a temporary home as well.

Maybe, not too far in the future, you could move outside of the city where Kang Kang would have a garden to run around in and where he would have playmates, maybe both, a boy and girl.

You blushed at the thought and looked at the engagement ring and wedding band that you had been wearing again since the day you had found out that your husband had never signed the divorce papers.

Just because you could make it on your own didn’t mean you wanted and needed to. After all, you had given a vow to each other, because somewhere in the past, you were so happy, you had agreed on spending the rest of your lives with each other. And that meant something, so much more than anyone not married could imagine. 

You weren’t walking down the aisle thinking you’re going to get divorced. You got married, because this was supposed to be forever.

Yes, it was right that it took much less to turn “Till death do us part” into “Till your lack of time for me do us part”, but unlike the worst case scenario, everything else was fixable. 

The movers were busy carrying down the last boxes with your stuff while you put Kang Kang on a leash. Looking around your old apartment for one last time, you bid farewell to this home of yours that not only bore bliss, but also destruction. But you had come out of it stronger, better than before.

You wouldn’t say that all your differences were now solved by deciding to get back together. Love alone couldn’t magically make them disappear, that was not how it worked. But you had talked long about this, what you needed to get back to where you had once been.

You had thought of your grandmother’s words every so often. No, you had not given it all yet, you eventually had to admit to her personally too, and she had only smiled, as though in knowing. Jaehyun and you both still had, apart from love of course, the passion, the determination, the strength. And hope. 

As long as there was that, your marriage was fixable.

And this time, you would make sure nothing would do you part again.

“The movers are ready, so we should get to the car. Here, let me take Kang Kang.”

Your heart was full of love and hope too when Jaehyun appeared at your door with a smile and took the leash from you after giving you a kiss on your cheek. 

Jaehyun was a husband who took care of things, so that you wouldn’t need to. Wasn’t this what marriage was about? Making each other’s lives easier and happier, because life itself was already hard enough.

Your grandmother had realized this very early. What a woman.

You didn’t think of Jaemin that often anymore. Only every now and then, he involuntarily crossed your mind and tugged on your heartstrings as a strong memory that day by day slowly faded, too. His face became blurry when you tried to remember his exact features, and eventually, he would only be a flash of a picture among a string of memories when you thought back to this time. As it had always been.

The only difference was that you had shut down every possibility of reaching out on either side. When you caught yourself wanting to unblock him and look him up on social media, you put your phone aside and let the feeling pass. It really worked wonders.

And one day, even this urge would perish.

When you stepped onto the streets that were still layered with a thin sheen of snow and ice, you noticed that the sun was shining and a touch of spring lingered in the air. The temperature would start to get warmer soon as well.

Your husband helped Kang Kang into the back of the car before he circled it and opened the door for you. And that was it, the huge difference. So subtle, but so grave all at once, it nearly made your heart burst.

“Are you ready to go home?” Jaehyun asked.

And finally, you answered, “Yes, I really want to go home.”  

Winter was still here, but in your heart, it was already summer when your husband took your hand.

You wanted rays of sunshine, warm breezes, salt on your skin and the chanting of crickets.

You wanted it to always be summer.

You wanted your husband.

____

One month prior

Jaemin had followed you all the way back to Seoul that very same day your grandmother had been admitted to the hospital, ditching the biggest opportunity in his entire life after all.

After he had seen you so disappointed and sad, mostly because of him, your expression hadn’t left his mind for hours. When it dawned on him what he was doing to you, letting you down in a very crucial situation, he wanted to beat himself up for being such a selfish idiot once again and had directly made his way to the café where you had fled to. But when he had arrived, you were already gone. 

Following you all the way to Seoul, he had been thinking of all the ways he could make it up to you. He had booked a hotel in the city and prepared to stay there for as long as you needed him. But when he had arrived, he saw you in front of the hospital and you weren’t alone. 

You had been with your husband and he had held you close as you cried in his arms, he had seen it all from his car.

He was too late again, he had thought. But when he had looked closer, the way Jaehyun was holding you and consoling you, he knew that timing wasn’t the problem, it had never been. 

You couldn’t be hugged like this by anyone. Jaemin couldn’t embrace you the way Jaehyun did, and it turned out to be a painful realization for him. It couldn’t be him, it also couldn’t be anyone else. It had to be Jaehyun.

It had always been Jaehyun.

___

“May I come in?”

Jaemin stood in front of Jaehyun’s door later that fateful day after you had left with your dog, facing his former best friend in person for the first time in many years. 

Occasionally, he would look at his social media after he had found out on a random day that Jaehyun had unblocked him and vice versa. Somehow, they still wanted to know what the other was up to, who they were up to with. The irony of that.

Jaehyun remained quiet, but pushed the door open for him. 

“Why are you here?” Jaehyun then asked him when they reached the living room. “She’s not here.”

“I know,” Jaemin answered. “I came for you.”

“So?” He braced his arm against the table and leaned back. “The invitations for the tea party are not out yet.”

“There is no need to be so condescending.” At this point, Jaemin was just so tired and wanted to leave this all behind him. “After today, I will be out of your lives, forever.”

“Sounds tempting. But as you know, we will be officially divorced soon, so she’s all yours to have.”

“But I’m not the one she needs.”

Jaehyun drew his brow together. “You’re the one she wants to be with.”

He smiled mildly and repeated, “But I’m not the one she needs. We don’t need to be together a fourth time to figure this out. You show up in ways I will never be able to, you’re the one she needs, even if she doesn’t see it yet.”

“Well… you’re too late.” Jaehyun shrugged. “I’ll sign the papers and will send them to my lawyer tomorrow. You think she’s some puppet you can toss around when you’re done playing just to pick her up again when it’s convenient for you? That’s not how relationships work.”

“I know.” Jaemin dropped his head in regret. “I’ve never wanted all of this. I’ve always wanted the best for…”

“...yourself,” Jaehyun ended the sentence aloud.

“... her,” Jaemin ended the sentence in his head.

And even though everything was different now, even though he had evolved and grown so much as a person, it was easier to let them believe that he was still the selfish, hard-headed Jaemin from the past. 

After all, he couldn't hold her like Jaehyun to make her feel so happy. 

It had to be someone particular. It had to be him.

And if he would be gone, then no one could make her happy anymore.

So Jaemin dashed forward and grabbed his former friend by the collar. Jaehyun was too perplexed to instantly react and just faced his opposite with a shocked expression.

“Listen up,” Jaemin growled, “if you send out signed divorce papers, I will come for you in the worst way possible. If you don’t rekindle this marriage with her, I will make your life a living hell. We might not like each other anymore, but we both love her, and if I ever see you making her sad again, you can dig your own grave. You will fix this marriage, no matter the cost, are we in the clear?”

He slowly let go of Jaehyun after luring out a reluctant nod from him. Latter cleared his throat and asked, “... but, do you think she even still wants to be with me?”

This time, Jaemin’s smile was sincere. “I’m absolutely sure about that. Show her again the reason why she was picking you over me, again and again. Remind her of all the traits that make you so much better for her than me, and she will choose you again. If she hasn’t already. Or do you not want t-”

“I do!” Jaehyun blurted out. “I absolutely do.”

Jaemin stretched out his arm and gave his former friend’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Very well.”

When he made his way to the door, Jaehyun stopped him with the words, “Thank you. Honestly.”

Initially, he wanted to turn around, but it was starting to burn behind his eyes, so Jaemin kept his back turned to Jaehyun and said,

“Don’t make me regret this.”

____

Jaemin threw his phone into the bushes on his way out.

So, what now?

He turned his head to the sky, and even though the tears started streaming down his face now, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and smiled through the blurriness. The wind was cold and burned his wet cheeks, and suddenly, it started snowing again.

This pain would vanish, he was sure of that. When you had fixed your marriage, got children and grew old together, his pain would eventually pass in this timeline. 

Yet, at that moment, it felt like it ripped Jaemin’s heart to shreds, even to the point where he wondered if he was actually tricking himself into believing that he would be fixed again or had to live the rest of his life with this ache slowly eating him up from the inside until there was nothing left of him anymore except for the frayed edges of his once so lively soul.

Jaemin took a deep breather and swallowed the next wave of tears.

He had no regrets, despite everything. And he still had hope. As long as there was that and he was able to hold onto these faint strings, he would continue on.

A fresh start, that was what he needed now as he trotted to his car. Far away from you and Jaehyun so that your paths would never cross again in this lifetime. That was the last selfless act he could still offer to you.

America sounded good.

[taeeflwrr]

oh.

(i reached the tag limit but i do wanna emphasise that im not against feminism and im happy yn didn't just succumb to the trope but i truly wasn't paying attention to the preface and didn't expect such a plot twist and angst and ending so I'm really shaken up because i was expecting something cute and silly and now im in actual physical pain and i need a resolution to this (hopefully a sequel where jaem's a better man and actually loves her) to make me feel better.))

(also omg somi was such a nice person only she knew the real him while all his other friends were nasty fake bitches. she actually cared and knew him even though she wasn't even there most of the time. also I need to know did jaem break up with his friends after the incident or is he still with them senior year? what made him switch his major? also did he ever even actually love her or did he think he did at the time? oh god the pain is getting worse this truly broke me shsjsjsjsj i need to cry I NEED A SEQUEL)

barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting. 

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

Keep reading

[taeeflwrr]

loved this

and they were roommates

❝ come on, y/n, i don’t bite. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee donghyuck x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, some angst, crack, college au, strangers to friends to lovers au, slowburn

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol and weed consumption, “opposites attract” trope, mentions of anxiety, nahyuck are extra stupid in this fic, hyuck has his euphoria moment, momentary fwb, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), slight corruption kink, high sex, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), and lots of fluff !! 

SUMMARY ▸ lee donghyuck’s competitive spirit to find the best girlfriend results with him setting his sights on yoo jimin, the hottest girl on campus. however, trying to get close to her ends up with him being pushed in her roommate’s direction. donghyuck has never considered dating someone as quiet as you, but, for whatever reason, he’s infatuated.

PLAYLIST ▸ adada adada by chitharth • partners in crime by finneas • i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys • garden song by phoebe bridgers • kal ho naa ho by shankar-ehsaan-loy, sonu nigam • heartbeat by bts

WORD COUNT ▸ 17,017 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hihi !! i’ve been so so excited to share this fic so i hope u guys enjoy !! lmk what you think and i hope you enjoy the playlist :’) third installment of the bitch hunters series ♡ 

LEE DONGHYUCK’S COMPETITIVE NATURE RAN IN HIS BLOOD, SET DEEP WITHIN HIS VERY BONES.

When he and his friends were finding prom dates in high school, Donghyuck was determined to find the best date with the best proposal he could plan. This ended with him on the rooftop of the science wing with a large sign that read “Will You Light Up My Night At Prom?” with neon lights taped to the sides, a megaphone, and his poor friends standing to the side with bouquets of flowers. Perhaps it was rather over-the-top, but Donghyuck’s charm came from how much effort he put into everything he set his mind to.

One would think Donghyuck’s fire would die down once he hit adulthood, but it was quite the opposite. College offered many opportunities for competing against his peers. Even if it was something simple as getting the last pizza roll from the microwave, Donghyuck would shove Na Jaemin against the wall any day to be victorious.

Bitch hunting season brought the challenge of a lifetime for Donghyuck. At first, he was determined to be the first one to get a girlfriend, but that fell apart once Renjun and Jeno beat him to it. Then, Donghyuck came to realize that it didn’t matter when he finished as long as the others saw him as the winner.

That meant Donghyuck would have to cuff the hottest girl in their year: Yoo Jimin.

Keep reading

[taeeflwrr]

read this again i love them

fast times.

pairing: co-worker!donghyuck x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.6k

synopsis: throughout the snapshots of your life, lee donghyuck is always there. (or, you realize that you’re in love with the bane of your existence.)

author’s note: i started grad school and it’s literally eating me alive so i wanted to write something short and sweet to de-stress and then it ended up being almost 8k words 😭

warning(s): excessive drinking, family tension

playlist: fast times by sabrina carpenter ― the bottom by gracie abrams ―  stress by taeyeon ― ruin my life by zara larsson ― cruel summer by taylor swift 

ST. PATRICK’S DAY 2022  sun’s up too soon like daylight savings, mixed emotions are congregating 

Liquid courage, as the poets say.

Well, don’t fact check that, but surely Wordsworth or Coleridge or whichever poet that Taylor Swift talks about in the lakes mentioned something about getting shitfaced during a St. Patrick’s Day office party.

Regardless, you’re going to pretend like they did because it’s a lot less romantic (lowercase r, not capital like the movement) if you’re just drunk off your ass at an office party without an artsy-fartsy literary reference to back you up.

You’re one too many shots of tequila deep, swaying to the shitty techno music that someone is blasting from their pretentious Spotify playlist while stumbling past the office cubicles, including yours and He Who Shall Not Be Named’s, on your wobbly trip to the bathroom.

Despite the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, the remaining coherent part of your brain is sounding the alarms that you’re probably going to throw up soon. You wish that part of your brain would just shut the hell up because you don’t want to think rationally right now.

You don’t want to think about He Who Shall Not Be Named and how he’s in love with your best friend. You don’t want to think about how his eyes found her the moment she walked into the office, how his gaze melted into a pool of honey, his head swiveling towards every direction she went like a stupid bobblehead. Not that you blame him; everyone is in love with Karina. It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyways.

Ugh, see? You’re thinking about him again.

Anyways, you’re also grateful for that part of your brain because the poets definitely do not write about spewing chunks in front of your co-workers. You just want to hurl in peace and wallow in your misery with the porcelain toilet bowl by your side.

The poets probably wrote about that.

Keep reading

[taeeflwrr]

⋆ when the rain ends, the sun will shine again — ﹙ L.DH ﹚

being at the heart of all attention and chaos can get draining. but, how long will the world wait for him to catch his breath before the dust settles and the stage lights move onto the next burning star?

♡ notes .. just me projecting some thoughts i had after seeing how haechan decided to do that one skit thing for studioK with a voice narrator because he couldn't even speak. sometimes these idols truly throw everything away for the career they love. & uh, this isn't edited at all so, enjoy this lackluster piece i guess :')

♧ word count .. 1.4k

The door unlocks with a click as you type in the passcode to the condo without even glancing at the keypad. It's become ingrained in your muscle memory with how often you find yourself in this apartment, a little away from the heart of Seoul but not exactly in the suburbs either.

"Haechan?" Your call gets unanswered so you shrug off your shoes, still balancing two bags packed full with pre-cooked meals and groceries.

The silence hangs tense around the dark apartment, the hallway light blinking to lead the way inside. You roll your shoulders, choosing to ignore the unease settling in your stomach.

As you wander through the apartment, the mess all around catches your eye. The trash has piled up in the dustbin. The kitchen island is filled with used dishes overflowing from the sink, sitting amongst opened takeout boxes.

Finally you spot him laying on the baby blue couch. A smile creeps up to your face as you recall how adamant he'd been against buying that specific color, listing reasons from 'it will get dirty in seconds' to 'it doesn't even match the vibe I'm going for'. For all his whining, you know what Donghyuck cherished most was the smile on your face when you had come into the newly furnished apartment for the first time, immediately jumping over the backrest of the springy couch after giving your boyfriend the biggest kiss and bear hug.

With a sigh, you maneuver through multiple empty cans of energy drinks and tissue boxes, sitting down by Donghyuck's head. He had placed a throw pillow on his face. It could've been to block out the lights, but the entire room was pitch black to begin with, the only exception being some drama playing on the television.

You move to remove the pillow but Donghyuck latches onto it, muffling his groans. "Headache?"

"Mmh," Donghyuck simply grunts, scooting forward to lay his head on your lap as your fingers thread through his hair.

"Did you leave early today? I thought the shoot was supposed to go till midnight?"

At that, he finally removes the pillow, looking up at you. Red plagues the white of his eyes, makeup smudged and in patches around them, some covering up his pretty moles. Concern bubbles over at the same time as panic in your chest but before you can voice it, he croaks, "Jus' wasn't feelin' it."

Eyes softening, you trace a hand over his cheeks while Donghyuck leans into your touch. You check his temperature and while he's running a little hot, he doesn't have a fever. "Does your throat still hurt, baby?"

"M' fine." Although it was an innocent question, you don't miss the way his eyes waver as if you'd treaded on a nerve before he pulls himself up to sit and then eventually standing. "Gonna get some water."

You follow close behind as Donghyuck steps into the kitchen, leaning with both hands on the counter, his back facing you as he rummages for a glass. The faucet turning on is the last thing you hear before racing towards him just as his shoulders start shaking.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around his waist, playing with the hairs on his neck to ground him. You don't push him to talk or turn around, only letting him know you're there for him whenever he feels comfortable to share. Until then, you'll provide him with all the physical comfort he needs.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours do, you're not very sure as you stand hugging Donghyuck while he tries to bite down his sobs, barely swaying to the faint sound of traffic outside.

The water stops and Donghyuck slowly turns around, clinging to you like a lifeline with one hand and the other rubbing furiously at his eyes. You take both his hands in your own, planting kisses to his cheeks and finally tilting his head to kiss his forehead. "What's wrong, sunshine? What made my pretty boy cry, hm?"

This time Donghyuck waits till he has you in his embrace, lifting you up to sit on the counter before nuzzling his face into your neck. You giggle at the ticklish feeling, knowing he's smiling against your skin.

"It's just—," he pipes up, voice shaky and broken before pursing his lips. You squeeze his hands, letting him know to go at his own pace. "I— I ruined the shoot. I thought I could make it through it even though my throat was screaming at me. Got choked up halfway through it and started coughing so bad, Manager hyung had to take me to the hospital."

You run a soothing hand up and down his back as Donghyuck's face scrunches up. "Baby, it's okay. You guys have all been so busy lately, with the tour and the album promotions being back to back. You'll get better in no time."

But Donghyuck shakes his head, almost hysterical. "You don't get it. The others, they were there just as long as I was yet nobody was an inconvenience like me. Now they have to go back again to redo the whole thing all because of me!" The moment he raises his voice, Donghyuck hunches over, coughing into his hands.

You quickly grab the nearest cup you spot, filling it with water and handing it to him, patting his back as he downs it. Frowning, you pull at the sleeves of Donghyuck's hoodie, "Look at me, Lee Donghyuck."

He does so wearily, following without a word as you shove away a few bowls to make space for him on the counter, patting the spot for him to sit. You hold onto him again, one of his arms draped across your shoulders while you speak, "Hyuck, you didn't mean to ruin anything, did you?"

"'Course not," he replies hoarsely, twirling a lock of your hair in his fingers.

"Then I'm sure the guys will understand. I've seen you taking on so much by yourself ever since we met. You never fail to take other people's feelings and wellbeing into consideration," you smile faintly when Donghyuck makes a sound, flustered you're sure. "So much that sometimes you forget to think about yourself."

It's silent for a while. But it's different from the terse atmosphere you'd walked into. There's a sense of levity now, comfort woven into the soft thumps of each other's heartbeat.

Donghyuck leans his head against yours, his warm breath fanning your forehead. "The Sun doesn't take a break jus' because it's tired."

"No?" You counter playfully, eyebrows rising in amusement. "What about when it rains?"

You're aware of Donghyuck trying hard to think up a witty response, but whether it's the medicine working or the day's exhaustion creeping up to him, he yields. "Don't know."

Smiling at the small sense of victory, you tug on the front of Donghyuck's hoodie, placing a short peck on his lips. "Every time it rains, the Sun goes to sleep for a little while, leaving our planet in the care of the clouds. You know why? So, the Sun can come back brighter than ever and make all the pretty flowers in spring."

Donghyuck's smile is full of adoration at your childlike imagery, his chest impossibly light. He resorts to squeezing your cheek until you yelp and swat his hand away. "What are you gettin' at, baby?"

You shrug, "All I'm saying is that the Sun isn't here all day or for every season. But every time it goes away, people know it will come back with the promise of something beautiful."

You nearly jolt as Donghyuck's grabs your chin, pulling you closer to kiss you. You read the sincerity on his lips and the contentment in the way his hands find purchase on your hips. "How did I manage to make such a cheeseball my girlfriend," he mumbles when you inevitably part for air.

"Deal with it, mister," you say with a chuckle.

The moment doesn't last long though, as Donghyuck pulls away to cough again, sending you both into a fit of laughter. But in that dimly lit kitchen, sitting together with your legs swinging in the air, you're so happy.

You wish Donghyuck realized just how much he's adored — by his fans, his teammates and you. And it's not just because of his eye for perfection, the very reason why he's so hard on himself. Everybody is allowed to make mistakes, take a moment to breathe. And Donghyuck damn well deserves it and so much more. But until he comes to accept it, you'll be there to remind him everyday.

[taeeflwrr]

🤭🤭🤭🤭 this was written for me i need more eldest daughter struggles yn × perfect man jaemin GIVE IT TO ME

two sides, same coin (n.jm)

pairing: na jeamin x reader genre: eldest/only daughter angst, fluff, strangers to whatever this is summary: y/n's one duty in life is to look out for others. romance who? however, jaemin comes along and maybe he can change her mind. alternatively, prom committee love story

Jaemin is the date-to-marry type. His friends call him grandpa for it but he doesn’t care, not even a little. No, Na Jaemin knew that the love he wanted was the kind that meant family heirlooms, photo albums of embarrassing baby pictures, and sharing warm coffee the morning after crying the whole night. He wanted the handholding and cuddles but only if it would include all the booboos in between that life inflicted. 

Don’t ask him why. He just knows. 

The thing is, despite everything Jaemin was such a hopeless romantic. Everyone would tell him to “just pick a girl” and while he’s happy for his couple friends, Jaemin just likes to march to the beat of his own drum. 

You, on the other hand, are the only daughter in an Asian household, your father is the dean, and everyone down to the school janitor knows you. That in itself was a sure fire guarantee that you could never entertain boys romantically, let alone find a boyfriend in high school. So you’re resigned not to. Love was way too complicated anyway. Besides, you had student council and prom wasn’t going to plan itself. 

But did you feel tired sometimes? No doubt. 

While there was a lot of love to go around, there were also a lot of responsibilities and a shit ton of expectations. On some days you just needed a break. Which is why even if you felt shy to admit it, you found Jaemin the most charming member of the prom committee. 

Jaemin didn’t exactly plan on signing up. However, he would much rather spend his time volunteering for something that was purposeful than get stuck being buggered on about why he still didn’t have a girlfriend. You, on the other hand, pretty much inherited the role of prom committee head, as did all senior student representatives every year. 

You didn’t intend to get close to Jaemin. Yes, you knew each other for your entire lives since elementary but you weren’t exactly from the same circles. But it just kind of happened. Prom was fast approaching, you liked to be precise in your work and Jaemin had a penchant nosing around. 

“If you need anything, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask,” he emphasized as he carefully placed a bandage on your finger. It was only a papercut but Jaemin insisted you sit down and take a break from sorting all the documents needed for prom. 

You shrugged, “Deadline is tomorrow morning.” You weren’t exaggerating but you didn’t make the rules and if those papers weren’t on the principal’s desk by 7 am, simply put, there would be no prom. 

Understanding flickered in his eyes as he smoothed the bandaid over your finger gently. He’d found you all alone way past school hours in a frenzy of folders and decided no one deserved to die by papercuts all alone.  

This wasn’t the first time this happened. In the course of the last few weeks, you’d eagerly scheduled meetings and town halls with the graduating class all in an effort to give everyone the prom they deserved. However, this had meant you skipped meals and went home late most of the time.

“This is way too much work for you,” he said as he started rummaging through his school bag. “This is the reason we have a committee.” 

The concern was highly appreciated but then again, who else was going to do the work if not you? “Jeamin, as much as I agree with you the reality is every senior is swamped with final requirements and-” 

“And you aren’t a senior?” he interrupted with an unimpressed expression. 

“I can handle the stress better than most,” you argued. 

“Yeah, clearly,” he snorted, which made you frown in his direction. 

Wordlessly, he offered you a brown paper bag. A smile creeps up on your face. If he was going to keep this up, someone’s heart was definitely going to be in trouble. 

“Let me guess, you accidentally ordered an extra meal, again?” 

Jaemin beamed, ”quite the opposite.” He cleared some space on the desk and gestured for you to sit across. 

You humor him and peer into the bag, chuckling, “this time it’s a whole lunchbox?” 

“I intentionally ordered two because I knew you would never listen to me.” 

You open the lunch box and feel pleasantly surprised that the food is quite warm. Your last meal was lunch and that felt like ages ago. “Thanks for looking out for me, you really didn’t have to,” you say. 

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t look out for you?” He pauses, and for a moment you feel like he’s looking straight into your soul. 

Hearing Jaemin call you a friend struck a chord in that if you were being honest, you haven’t really felt like you had any friends since senior year started. You haven’t had company like this in a while. Sure you had your best friends but they were busy trying to survive. You still had the occasional breakdown here and there, but more often than not, you knew how to handle yourself. There wasn’t much of a choice anyway. You didn’t want to blame your friends for needing more support than yourself, so you power through; just doing what needs to be done. 

Comfortable silence fills the room as you both eat thoughtfully. You appreciate the stillness and bask in the company of Jaemin. You think, better make the best of it while it lasts, right? 

A thought stirs in your mind and you’re compelled to satisfy your curiosity. “Jaemin? Why the prom committee?” 

“Why not? He grins. You laugh at his response, mentally slapping yourself because you actually anticipated this sort of crap from Jaemin. 

“Okay let me rephrase that,” you continue, “Is there any reason you chose to join prom committee?” 

He drops his form into the now empty lunchbox, appearing to give his answer some thought, “Well, when I asked the upperclassmen last year they said tickets would be discounted for committee members.” 

You nod thoughtfully, admiring his practical mindset. 

“But if you want the real answer, it’s because I felt like being a part of something we could all look back on,” he answered. 

You can’t help but smile at him, at his genuineness. Something about how open he was despite having spent only a month in each other’s company has your heart feeling a certain way. 

“And you, why student council for four straight years?” he asks with a quizzical expression. 

Your fingers trace the wood grains as you rack your brain for an answer. An acceptable answer would be, that you "cared a lot" or that you "want to make a difference". But instead, you gravitate towards something you don’t exactly want to admit, “I just, don’t want to think.” 

Jaemin bursts out laughing. “You’re saying that when you’re obviously doing all the heavy brainwork here?” 

“But that’s all it is, work,” you quip back. “When it’s work I know what to do. But with everything else?” 

The way your expression shifts is unmistakable for Jaemin. Doubt is not something he’s accustomed to when it comes to you. Yet, something about your vulnerability compels him to push farther. 

“Do you ever feel like people have a certain idea of what you need to be doing, anything outside of that is sort of like a crime?” He asks. 

You nod slowly in agreement, “Like ‘hey, since you’ve proven that you’re great at this, only ever be great at this. Don’t ask for help cause everyone is too busy. But also, you’re such a workaholic’.” Your words spill out faster than you can think. 

He hums in agreement allowing you to continue. “Everyone thinks they know what’s best for you but none of them actually offer any useful help,” you croak out. 

It’s quiet for a while before Jaemin breaks the silence, “Can I be really honest this time?” 

You raise an eyebrow at the interjection, “weren’t you being honest a while ago?”  

He ignores your comment and instead laughs it off. “What I wanted to say was, listening to you made something click,” he said leaning forward so his hands rested on the table. “I joined the prom committee to look for friends,” he said, pausing only to get a glimpse of your confused expression. 

“I know it sounds crazy but you aren’t the only one who feels alone,” he confesses.

“Everyone has this certain expectation that because I like to help out a lot, because I love love, that I’m not capable of feeling sad, but I am.” 

“You love, love?” you ask skeptically. 

“Was that the only thing you heard?” he asks, throwing his hands up. 

You don’t know why but you find it in your heart to giggle. “I didn’t know you were such a sap.” 

“Am not!” He counters. “I just have specific beliefs when it comes to love.” 

“And that is?” 

“That it’s supposed to be special, nothing rushed, never forced,” he explains. “It’s something that feels more warm and steady than jittery, if you know what I mean?” 

If Jaemin didn’t already fascinate you then, well he sure did now. You don’t know how the boy who liked to keep to his own business managed to conjure such deep thoughts. You find yourself nodding along. 

“I can respect that, I guess,” you finally say after some time. Sensing the time, you finally stand up to tidy the place and get back to work. 

“Thanks for being good company,” Jaemin suddenly says as he assists you in throwing the empty takeout bags in the bin. 

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” you reply. 

Jaemin thinks a lot while the two of you work. He thinks about the easy grace that you exude vis a vis being comfortable with vulnerability. And he thinks you’d battle him out for this, but he sure as hell didn’t believe that you were as cut-throat about life as your own friends labeled you. If any, he’d sure as hell vouch that you were a softie at heart. 

“Don’t skip meals,” he called out as the two of you parted ways later that evening. And you definitely wouldn’t be skipping any meals for the weeks to come. Not on Jaemin’s watch, anyway.

[taeeflwrr]

i wrote a whole essay of my thoughts about this piece and tumblr decided to delete it what do i do noww😭😭😭

i loved it btw

WHO IS IT ─★ lee haechan

synopsis: begging you to marry him, haechan promised you the moon, the stars hanging in the sky, and a few hundred million other things. but he never promised you the most important thing — the sun. and after all, that's all you wanted.

or, alternatively ── haechan has a plan of getting his grandmother's inheritance by marrying you, promising you that everything that was about to become his would also become yours. a lavish lifestyle, the liberty of being with other people — but you only wanted him. so what happens when haechan's plan backfires, leaving you both drowning in a sea of uncertainties?

pairing: husband!haechan x wife!reader

genre: fake marriage!au, marriage of convenience!au, f2l!au, angst, mutual pining, slowburn, smut, cheating!au

featuring: [brief appearances of] nct dream, aespa's karina, red velvet's yerim, riize's sungchan

word count: 30k words

contains: fluff, angst, smut, slowburn, mutual pining, a lot of descriptive scenes (im so sorry). haechan is emotionally constipated, it takes him a billion years to realise some things. haechan is not the best husband, emotional neglect, emotional and physical avoidance. use of alcohol, cheating (mentions of, not actual scenes), smut (only between haechan and reader), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, miscommunication, misunderstandings, rich!haechan, mentions of generational wealth and fraud, riize's sungchan (im sorry pookster), reader has a lot of insecurities and regrets.

now playing: who is it by michael jackson

series masterlist: here!

Your high heels click on the busy pavement as you make your way through the crowd. The underground ride was hell, surrounded by tired office workers and sweaty tourists, and you just hope that the good odds were on your side and your expensive perfume was still clinging onto your skin and clothes.

When Donghyuck sent you a text earlier in the morning, asking for an urgent meetup at your favourite dinner spot in town — a very busy spot uptown that is, a very busy spot that is very difficult to get into last minute, you knew that it was a serious matter. It was always a bit difficult to get in touch with him, or get a hold of him. He was busy with work, busy with dates, busy with friends, but you knew he always had the softest spot for you, and vice versa. And how could you not, after knowing each other since elementary school? He always found the most random times to be with you — be it on a random Saturday, coming over to your place to watch High School Musical for the nth time, or on a monday at noon taking you out to have lunch together during your lunch break. Or on a thursday for a friendly dinner. Like tonight. 

You know how this is going to go. You’ll take your seats, get your orders taken, eat, chit chat about whatever’s too heavy on his mind for him to keep only to himself. “I’m a man of many secrets,” he once told you, “But somehow you know about ninety-five percent of them,” you can recall the genuine smile he showed you that night a few years ago.

“Hyuck!” You spot him playing nervously with the hem of his jacket, “I’m sorry I’m late, had to go home to change,” you give him a hug, and he keeps you close a few seconds more than he usually does.

“You smell nice,” he pats your back as he reaches for the restaurant door, “Let’s go inside, I’m starving,” 

The atmosphere inside the restaurant brings you a sense of familiarity. The red and brown decor, the dim lightning and the candles around the tables, the faint melody played in a corner by the familiar pianist who also occasionally hums the tune, his fingers touching the keys in a gentle manner. It is so familiar to you, this is your favourite restaurant after all.

“Hate these candles,” Donghyuck grumbles as he opens the menu, setting his eyes on the wine menu. You know he always gets the same three things on rotation, and he always tries to steal food off your plate because your food choices are always the best. 

“So why do we always come back?” You ask him with a smile, handing your menu back to the waiter who takes off with your orders.

“I like that guy,” he points to the pianist in the far corner of the restaurant, “He always plays some Tony Bennett tune,”

“And you like the wine,” you retort, watching as he nervously takes a sip from his glass.

“And I like the wine,” he smiles at you, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which is odd — because he always lets himself go when he is around you. You know his true colours, no need to hide himself from you. 

And yet you wait. You don’t ask him what’s wrong, you don’t ask him what was so urgent to actually meet you for a second time during the week, remembering very well how he took you out for ice cream after work a few days ago. You suppose it’s all about timing, and he’ll know when it’s time to tell you what’s bothering him.

For the duration of the dinner, you see him fidgeting with his fork and knife, looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes yet looking back down to his dorado as soon as you make eye contact with him. He tries to open his mouth a few times to speak, yet he closes it as soon as he notices your head perking up waiting for him to start talking. 

You think you need to take matters into your own hands and force the words out of his mouth until you see him eyeing your brisket.

“Don’t even think about it,” you utter while cutting into the meat on your plate.

“Oh, please,” he cries, setting his knife down, “Just a tiny taste,” he pleads.

“I didn’t ask for a tiny taste of your dorado,” you shrug, chewing on the tiny piece of brisket on your fork. 

“I would have given it to you,” he whines, pointing at you accusingly.

You look at him unimpressed, yet still intrigued. He’s not being annoying about anything tonight, which is very suspicious to you. So instead of trying to get inside his head — which he’ll probably let you do later anyway, you try to make small talk, to appease the tension just a bit. “So, how was that meeting yester-”

“Will you marry me?” He says — no, asks, but in such a gentle whisper that you think your ears are deceiving you. You stop mid-chew to look at him, as if the active action of chewing would ever impair your hearing. If you heard him right, you think it’s a devious, sick joke on his behalf.

“What did you just say?” You ask incredulously, spitting the piece of meat you had been chewing on, in your napkin.

“I said,” he played with the corner of his napkin, that was now sitting on top of the table instead of his lap, “will you marry me?”

“Are you insane?” You bite back, looking at how his energy deflates even more. “Did you fall today? Did you hit your head like that one time in tenth grade?” Your questions keep on flooding the atmosphere between the two of you, and even if your voice is low in volume, he hears you perfectly.

“Listen,” he starts, and you watch as he stops himself from continuing as the waiter comes to retrieve the plates from your table. He holds a finger up in the air, silently telling you to wait, and he asks for another bottle of wine. “I know this is sudden,” he stops when you scoff, setting back into your chair, waiting for him to go on, “But this is an opportunity of a lifetime, for both of us,” he says confidently.

“How so?” He’s impressed by your apathetic tone, he thought you’d be at least a bit more enthusiastic. He’s played all the possible scenarios in his head for the past few weeks, yet these last few days have been the worst. He hasn’t slept much, hasn’t eaten much, hasn’t been able to pay attention to his regular activities and hobbies that much either. The only things on his mind were you, and as disturbing as it may sound, his grandmother.

“I would get to settle down” he points to himself before looking at your annoyed and endearing figure sitting across him at the table, “And you will have the most perfect wedding. Not to mention the fact that you can have all the money you ever dreamed of. Imagine living that lavish lifestyle, buying yourself everything you have to restrain yourself from right now. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He smiles at you like a little devil who’s ready to whisper into your ear all the advantages of his daylight delusions.

“What are you even talking about?” You are truly in disbelief, looking at him being so calm so suddenly, “How would that even be possible?”

Suddenly you are well aware of the reason of his fidgeting, and why he stayed silent for the whole night. He didn’t know how to open his mouth and tell you a bunch of crap without you throwing your plate at his head.

He shushes you, and you scoff at his stupid attempt of trying to make you come to reason. “Grandma Lee’s inheritance,” he explains calmly, playing with the table cloth. 

Your eyes are the size of saucers while looking at him feigning fake innocence. You’re sure this can be categorised as fraud in so many states and countries. The worst way this could go would be this idiot turning you in for attempted fraud and him leaving with all the inheritance he pretends he’s entitled to. 

When you say nothing, just staring at him like he’s grown a second and then a third head, he sighs exasperated, throwing his head back in a sign of annoyance.

“Y/n, you have to hear me out,” Donghyuck pleads, bringing his hands over his face out of frustration. Your eyes fall on his weird and crooked pinky, reminding you of his funny and equally weird childhood story about what had happened for it to become so crooked. So fresh in your mind, you already know it by heart.

“But wouldn’t it be considered — I don’t know…” you make a pause, biting on your nails, “Fraud?”

His eyebrows furrow and then a second later his features relax, yet still being able to hold an unimpressed look in his gaze. He glares at you judgementally, as if asking you if you're stupid. You have the same expression, your gaze holding his, silently asking him who, between the two of you, was the real idiot in this context. Is he stupid for proposing such a plan, or are you the idiot who can’t see anything but the faulty side of his master plan? You try to figure out to what extent it can be considered fraud, promising yourself you’d be looking into this matter later.

“How would this be fraud?” He whines, a few heads turning around to look at the two of you. Certainly, people's ears perked up at the mention of the word fraud, and perhaps Donghyuck’s loud whining had something to do with it too. 

You shush him, “How would it not be considered as such?” You speak through gritted teeth, trying to convey the message to keep his voice down, for his own good. 

You two are having dinner in a nice, uptown restaurant, and you really wish you didn’t have this conversation right here. You were a fool for believing Lee Donghyuck had anything else to say to you except for a stupid idea he had been letting marinate in his pretty head.

“It wouldn’t be,” he insists, “Because anywhere we go we can pass as a loving couple,” he states as matter-of-factly. “Remember that time we scammed the baristas downtown during last year’s Valentine’s Day?”

When you say nothing, only bringing your elbows to rest on the table, he goes on. “Listen, I know for a fact that this is going to be a success. I’ve made plans and took into account all possibilities, and I am my grandma’s favourite grandchild. This is going to work out, trust me” he explains with determination, and you almost believe his words. 

Except, you still have a working left brain. 

“Again,” you sigh, “How is this not a criminal act in your books?” You try to make him come to reason, but he doesn’t want to hear any of it, waving his hands around in an exasperated gesture, “And how do you even know you’re grandma Lee’s favorite? Out of ten grandchildren?” 

“I may have found her will,” he answers immediately, but it comes out more like a question holding a billion uncertainties. Your puzzled expression makes him continue, “When I visited her last year for her birthday, she made me fish for those papers in her home safe. The search for it was very bizarre, like treasure hunting or something, which you’ll realise in a second, it’s very ironic,” he takes a sip of his wine, trying his best to be as serious as possible in order to make you understand how serious he is about this. “She made me look for it in her mansion, giving me easter eggs and hints about where in the house it could be. And when I found it,” his silence lingers for a while, trying to find the best way to tell you the whole story, “This may sound very bizarre, I know, but she even had a riddle for her safe code. I solved it and there was her will, looking right at me. We looked over it together, and she made sure to divide all her assets equally between all her children and grandchildren, except the few hundred million dollars she has to her name.”

You blink once. You blink twice. You double blink for the third time and he scoffs, but quickly recomposes himself, remembering the purpose of telling this whole story, “Y/n, I’m being so serious right now, you have to believe me,” he stops briefly, his fingers drumming on the table following a rhythm only he knows, “In that testament I was the sole heir to her bank account, with that one exception,”

“You need to get married,” you remark.

“I need to get married,” he confirms, laying his hands flat on the expensive cotton tablecloth nicely adorning your dinner table for two. 

Your eyes fall on his crooked pinky once again, your gaze sliding to the finger next to it. The ring finger. You think it could be nice to have a gold band to embellish his beautiful and slender finger. Donghyuck seems to pick up what's going on in your mind, and even if you needed a bit more convincing, he knows you're going to agree to his plan.

And surely, you think, with a few hundred million dollars in your bank accounts, and a man as beautiful as Donghyuck to call your husband, there's nothing that could ever go wrong. Right?

And, before agreeing to his stupid plan, you sceptically make him paint the picture for you. 

“We tell people we’ve been dating for a bit, because we realised we are very much in love,” he explains nonchalantly as he stabs his lava cake with his tiny dessert fork. 

“I genuinely think you’re deranged. You lost the plot to your own scenario,” he looks at you all worried, a smudge of chocolate in the left corner of his mouth. His stupid big brown eyes looking into your raging ones, not understanding the accusations you’re bringing him. “How would you explain this to people? To the boys?” You set your tiramisu aside, knowing damn well he’ll make an attempt to slide the tiny dessert plate across the table and devour the sweet treat. He scoffs once again, as if you’re the one being the ridiculous one here, but he stops himself from letting any word out, letting you continue rambling on about your concerns. “Hyuck,” you start, setting your hands flat on the table, just like he did before, “I think you’re forgetting something. People know you sleep around,”

“Slept,” he retorts, raising a finger in the air as to accentuate his statement, “Haven’t slept with anyone in a while, couldn’t bring myself to, knowing I’ll soon be a married man,”

When you say nothing for the nth time this evening — out of disbelief this time, he’s sure — he goes on, “I told you I already thought of every single scenario and possibility. We’re childhood friends, it won’t be that hard for people to fall for the story of how we realised we’re made for each other. We tell them we kept it a secret for our own good, we tell them we’re madly in love with each other and that we got engaged. We get married, and I want you to think about this, Y/n, let me paint the picture for you,” he says, raising his hands in front of his figure to make a rectangle in the air, “You get to have the dream ceremony I know you’ve always dreamed of, with a big and beautiful bouquet, and the most expensive and show stopping wedding dress. Your veil will cost more than double my suit and your shoes will have rocks more expensive than my car. We then move in for a bit in my — or your apartment, until grandma Lee passes, which by the way,” he stops to raise a hand in the air, as if to assure you, “Will be pretty soon, judging by the medical report I found in her bedroom a bit back. We then buy a house bigger than Brad and Angelina’s mansion. Think of it, Y/n, we could be the new Brangelina. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He slides your tiramisu across the table and excitedly sticks his forks into it, then looks at you with a glimmer in his gaze.

His plan could have been far worse than this, you think, yet the faint reminder of the fact that the two of your are going to be in a marriage is slightly terrifying to you. You always thought you’d get married to someone you had feelings for, whom you loved, and while certainly you do love Donghyuck in a very confined way, you’re sure that it is within the bounds of a lifetime long friendship, in which the both of you have gotten to know each other almost perfectly.

He sees you getting too much into your own head, and snaps his fingers right in front of your nose, like he’s always done since you were children. “What’s bothering you?” He asks, his tone genuine.

“What about…” you bite your lip, too afraid of hearing something you don’t really want to be hearing, and you’re not sure what kind of answer you’re trying to avoid. “What about dating?” You finally ask, and he waves his hand to dismiss your worries.

“Don’t worry about it,” he goes back to the tiramisu he’s put aside when he saw your concerned scowl, “Unless our families and friends find out about our dates, we’re free to see whoever we please and like,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, straightening your posture.

And then you see him, grinning at you like he’s the devil, “So what’d you say?” He stands up slowly from his chair across the table, and just as slowly he reaches for something in the right pocket of his slacks while still grinning.

And before you can actually register what is about to happen, you see him sprinting to reach your side, kneeling down in front of you and opening a stupid, black suede small box that — you think once he opens it to reveal its content to you — holds the Hope Diamond. 

“Y/N,” he says your name, and you make a very big effort to tear your gaze away from the ring inside the small box he’s holding, “Will you marry me?”

And with a Tony Bennett tune in the background, with a diamond as big as your fist, and a man as handsome as Donghyuck kneeled in front of you, a man who’s promised you the world just a few minutes back, how could you ever refuse?

“Yes, yes I will”

“You’re what?” Chenle and Mark scream simultaneously, sitting in pure shock on the carpeted floors of Jaemin’s apartment. 

You glared at Donghyuck, who was standing next to you, looking all offended by his friends. He grabbed your hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. His fingers interlocked with yours, “I said,” he showed your hand to his friends, “We’re getting married,” his eyes softened while looking at you. Dang it, he’s a very good actor, you thought.

“How- how did this happen?” Mark stutters, his voice cracking. Chenle reaches for your hand to look at your engagement ring, and his eyes bulk out of their orbits. 

“What the fuck, Hyuck?” He glared between you and Donghyuck, his friends, and the rock on the ring. “Did you guys see the size of this rock?”

“Yes, whatever, it’s the size of your head,” Donghyuck rolled his eyes, and you don’t have time to giggle at his joke as he pulls you gently by the arm towards the empty loveseat. You sit on it, and he pulls a chair close to your seat.

You look around at his friends. The energy in the room fluctuates and changes based on who you look at, Mark being still in shock, Chenle keeps looking at your hand, Jeno congratulates you, and Jaemin's displaying a huge grin that’s plastered on his face. The different reactions feel overwhelming to you, and you imagine how bad it will be when you break the news to your and Donghyuck’s families if his friends reacted this way.

“I knew it, you guys,” Jaemin claps his hands and shakes his shoulders in excitement, “I knew you guys were together!” He cheers, looking around the room, encouraging the others to join his happiness.

Donghyuck averts his eyes and clears his throat, fidgeting a bit in his seat. “Yeah, we were meant to be,” 

“But how long have you guys been together?” Jeno asks with caution, his eyes a bit lost as he lets you know his curiosity and concerns.

“A few months,” you reply, “but we’ve known each other for so long that we feel we’ve been together forever,” you explain, moving your hand. You smile, amused noticing Chenle’s eyes still looking at your hand, straight at your engagement ring.

“It’s been a bit,” Donghyuck says, “Right after Y/n’s birthday party,” he smiled, his hand reaching behind you to pat your back, which made you straighten your posture immediately. The sudden contact, his warm hand burning its print on your back. The nerves and stress of breaking the news of your supposed engagement to the people you care the most for makes a light shimmering coat of sweat veil your skin. You recompose yourself quickly, not expecting the sudden contact.

You look at the people around the room. Except for Chenle, who’s still looking at your hand and then at Mark who’s still shocked by the sudden news, Jaemin is the only one who beams with joy. 

“We’re very happy for you,” Jeno brings a hand to his chest, reaching forward in his seat as he tries to get closer to you and your supposed fiancé, “It’s just that it’s very sudden news,” 

“Extremely happy,” Mark comments, smiling at you and then looking at his best friend, “It’s weird that we didn’t notice,”

“Talk for yourself,” Jaemin barks back with an upset tone, which makes you burst out laughing, “I’ve been plotting and scheming for a very long time,” he shuts up as soon as Donghyuck glares at him. He smiles back at his friend, and then he winks at you with a knowing smile.

 Out of all of Donghyuck’s friends, you felt Jaemin and Chenle to be the closest to you. They were his friends from college, and you met them countless of times during the last few years and for occasional meet ups, but you definitely felt that Chenle and Jaemin were your friends too. Mark was awkward at times, but he always took care of you whenever Donghyuck left the club with some lady hanging off his arm, leaving you behind in the club with his friends. Jeno always lets you win during game nights. While Donghyuck tries everything in his power to cheat at every game and to corrupt Jaemin and Mark to join him in his cheating, sometimes even trying to bribe you to give him a property that he really needed while playing Monopoly, Jeno always lets you win, even helps you sometimes just to see Donghyuck’s cheeks lose all color when he realised he lost the games.

“Y/n?” Donghyuck touches your back once again, the sudden and unexpected  physical contact making you jump slightly — once again. You look at him and you realise you blacked out for a bit, lost deep in your own thoughts about the guys. Realising you weren’t paying attention to him, he repeats himself, “Monopoly tonight?”

You looked around the room at the guys sitting around you with hopeful looks, and you agree before your brain can register completely. You would never ever pass on the occasion of beating Donghyuck at games, or at anything in life, especially now that you’re getting married.

You look around yourself, around the street, you look around at the people passing you by on the pavement. The still cold days of march make you zip your jacket up, your cheeks rosy and your nose and ears freezing even if the sun is out and hitting all the buildings around you. You rub your hands together in a pathetic attempt to warm yourself up, trying to calm the terrible feeling you have in your guts.

“Hey,” your head snaps to the side as soon as you hear Renjun’s voice, and you hug him tightly as you take a good look at him. Bucket hat low on his forehead, covering his eyes, you wouldn’t even recognise him if you didn’t know the timbre of his voice. “Are we waiting for the girls here?” He asks looking around, and when you nod he gets closer to where you’re standing on the pavement. 

“Are you cold?” You ask, hugging his figure once again and rubbing your hands on his arms, hoping the friction will be enough for him to bear the cold a little bit longer. 

He nods, zipping his jacket up to his chin and wrapping his wool scarf around his neck trying to find some comfort. You look at him, still hugging him, and you really wish you could tell him everything that’s on your mind, everything that’s happened in your life in the past few weeks. But for the integrity of your and Donghyuck’s plan you have to keep your lips sealed. 

Apart from Donghyuck, who’s your childhood and oldest friend, Renjun is the second closest. You met him in college right before you met Yerim, and you instantly clicked with each other as soon as you complained about the mess in the kitchen at the dorms. You started as fellow complainers, you then met each other in the communal lounge downstairs while studying, and then you kept looking for each other whenever you weren’t too busy being with Donghyuck. He met Donghyuck in your kitchen while the latter was making your ramen, and Renjun complained about the mess. 

“So you’re the one who makes the mess?” He was close to bursting a vein, trying his best not to kick the unknown man out of the dorm’s kitchen.

“Oh, hi” like a deer in highlights he turned around, scared by Renjun’s tone, before taking a good look at the guy in front of him, “You must be Renjun,” he cheered, changing hands holding the spatula and extending the newly free hand to Renjun, “Y/n told me everything about you, I think her exact words were ‘to look out for that Renjun’ guy,” 

Renjun looked at him, his eyes bulking out of his orbits, “You know Y/n?” He asked incredulous, thinking that you could never be friends with such a messy person such as Donghyuck, “And by the way, she would never say that about me,”

“She’s my bestfriend,” Donghyuck answered before turning his attention back to the ramen pot sitting on the stove. “And don’t worry, the mess was already clinging to these walls way before I came by today,” And in all fairness, Donghyuck is a very clean person, a very clean man. Talk about the advantages of growing up close to a clean freak like yourself. “By the way, I’m Donghyuck, I live in the dorm just around the corner,” 

“Oh,” Renjun mumbled, setting his own pots and pans on the second stove, “I’ve heard about you,” Donghyuck’s eyes lit up as soon as he heard the words coming out of Renjun’s mouth, delighted knowing that he’s someone you go around talking to other people about.

And since that moment you three stuck together. Donghyuck’s proximity to your and Renjun’s dorm, and the fact that he actually met the guy while cooking for you in your kitchen, meant he was always with you, joint at the hip, sometimes to Renjun’s dismay, because he thought Donghyuck was one of the most annoying guys he’s met. And then from your second year in college, the three of you moved in together in a shared apartment just outside campus and, although you became a trio, you’ve always been transparent about your friendship with the guys. What you and Donghyuck had was different from your friendship with Renjun, and the two of them hung out without you as well. It’s just your dynamic, and Renjun has always agreed to this, even if Donghyuck was a little jealous and possessive of your friendliness at times. As soon as you showed Renjun a little bit more attention, Donghyuck stole you away for a whole week. But it was always fine, it was never a problem for Renjun, for reasons you’ve never spent too much time worrying about.

You’re pulled out of your own thoughts by the two girls that approach you loudly, and Renjun sighs while shivering in your arms, “Fucking finally,”

“Why didn’t you guys wait inside?” Karina asks after you’re done with hugging everyone, “Couldn’t you guys get a table? Usually it’s pretty empty at this hour in the morning,”

“Wait,” you pull Yerim’s sleeve when she tries to make her way inside the cafeteria, smiling sheepishly as they look at you confused. “I know I invited you here today, but that’s not really where we’re going,” you explain, rubbing your hands together.

“So why are we here?” Karina mumbles confused, looking at the other two.

You point at the bridal boutique just across the street from where the coffee shop is, and their eyes follow the direction you’re pointing at, their heads snapping back to look at you, so harshly that you wonder how on earth they didn’t get whiplash.

“You’re kidding…” Yerim laughs so loudly that a few people’s heads turn around, 

“Right?” Renjun’s uncertain tone makes you fidget on the spot.

Averting your gaze, you cross the street to reach the bridal shop, and your friends look at each other, still hoping for you to turn around and tell them you’re joking. 

By the time they decide to follow you inside the shop, you’re already drinking from a glass of champagne and discussing about your dream wedding gown.

“You have to be kidding me,” Renjun mumbles as soon as one of the assistants comes over with a tray of champagne flutes.

“How are we here,” Karina downs the whole flute as soon as they take a seat on the expensive white sofas waiting for you to come out wearing whatever dress you discussed with the assistant you wanted. 

“I think we skipped a few chapters,” Yerim sighs contemplatively and looks at Renjun who’s visibly shaken. Out of the three of them, Renjun’s the one that looks like he got hit by a bus. He doesn’t even understand why he’s sitting where he’s sitting right now.

“Last time I asked, she was saying she’s not seeing anyone special,” he mutters more to himself, but the two girls hear him nonetheless, “I don’t get it,”

And then you come out from the little room at the end of a narrow corridor, all three of your friends shut their mouths as you show them the best dresses that you’ve picked up while they were deciding if they needed to follow you inside, or if they should just laugh it off and walk to the nearest bar because it was a joke. It was a reality check for all three of them, and while the doubts and shock was still in the back of their minds and ready to resurface at any given moment during your dress fitting, ah’s and oh’s and sniffles filled the room while complimenting you.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone,” Karina spills out, having already downed three champagne flutes.

“I really don’t know how to feel about you getting married to a total stranger,” Yerim sniffles, the feeling of betrayal suffocating her. 

You sigh, looking at your reflection in the mirror while touching your silky dress, and all your curves and edges, “He’s not really a stranger,” you whisper while looking at their reflection in the big mirror.

Renjun pushes himself forward, eyes as big as the rock on your engagement ring, which you purposefully left at home so as to not receive any questions as soon as you met your friends. He takes a moment to think of all the men in your life, your exes, your situationships. “Oh, dear heavens,” he touches the bridge of his nose as he looks at your reflection in the big mirror and then straight into your eyes, and something in his gaze tells you he’s gotten a faint idea of who it might be.

“What did she say?” Karina nearly screams into Yerim’s ears, the flutes making her lose all sense of volume.

You repeat yourself, “He’s not a stranger, you know him very well,” you look at the three of them, and you can feel Renjun’s eyes burn holes in the beautiful wedding dress you have on. “It’s Hyuck,” you whisper, not sure if they heard you.

Judging by Karina’s head snapping to her right to look at the others’ reactions, and by Yerim’s gasp, you can appreciate that they did indeed hear you.

“Hyuck as in Donghyuck?” Yerim makes sure you didn’t possibly meet a new Donghyuck in the span of a few weeks, “How did this happen?”

“How? That’s your concern?” Renjun pulls her by her arm, turning her to face him, “Your main concern should be when! When did this happen?” He addresses you.

“We’ve known each other for a very long time,” you start, “We were meant to be,” you hope Donghyuck’s bullshit excuses and scenarios reach your friends’ hearts, out of love for you. You know it sounds pathetic, the whole childhood friends to lovers fiasco, but you hope they won’t need more explaining regarding this, considering your and Donghyuck’s dynamics. 

And as your biggest nightmare comes to reality, Renjun scoffs. And you recall telling Donghyuck just a few day ago that Renjun is going to be the one who needs the most convincing out of every other friend you two have. “Just stick to the answers I came up with, and he’ll buy it. If there’s anything Renjun cherishes more than his bickering with me, then that’s his friendship with you. He’ll buy it in the end, trust me.” And when you look at him bewildered, because you never thought of accepting such an explanation from him, he sighs and wraps an arm around you, walking you through the whole scenario again, “Tell him we’ve been together for a few months, I told you I love you blah blah blah. Stick to the scenario. Stick to the plan, Y/n” he cupped your face, swiftly kissing your forehead like he always does when you’re sick with worries, since the age of eight.

And so you do, you stick to the plan, to all the lines Donghyuck has instructed you to use, and while you play with your fingers all nervous and with trembling voice, you hope your friends are buying all of whatever bullshit you’re selling them.

“I knew this would happen,” Renjun claps his hands together as he looks at his two other friends sitting beside him on the small sofa, “I knew this would happen as soon as he ditched our study session at the library years ago just to spend time with you, when he found out some idiot didn’t show up to your date and you needed comforting,” this time he looks at you, straight into your soul, and you hope that he won’t be able to pick up whatever bullshit Donghyuck has fed you to convince you to agree to his plan. “You two are idiots”, he retorts.

And yes, you think so too. You couldn’t agree more. You and Donghyuck are idiots indeed, especially you. You, who’s willing to jeopardise decades of friendship just to make him happy, just to feel a bit validated by him. You still don’t want to admit the deeper reason of your agreeing, and you hope you’ll be able to ignore it and bury it deep into the back of your mind.

“But,” he sighs once again, and you’ve only heard Renjun sigh this many times when Donghyuck was insisting on having a bet and the loser would kiss the opponent if he felt like doing it, knowing damn well Donghyuck was going to purposefully bet on something that would turn out to be completely wrong and lose in Renjun’s favour just to kiss him, “I’ll admit that you’re very beautiful wearing that dress,” he points his head at your dress.

“You think so?” You beam and stand on your tippy toes, turning around to look at your own reflection in the huge mirror, using your hand to call one of the assistants over.

All three of your friends agree, and a drunk Karina even starts clapping, cheering you on. 

“I can’t imagine the amount of stress you’re under with all the wedding preparations,” Yerim hugged you as soon as you stepped foot out of the boutique.

“I’m not,” you smile bashfully at your friends, “Hyuck suggested we should get a wedding planner,” 

“Hyuck suggested,” Renjun imitates you with a mocking tone, already sick of your wedding talk after spending half a day looking for dresses for you, and bridesmaids dresses for your two friends.

“Are you going to act like this forever? I’m not even married to him yet,” you say with an incredulous laugh.

“For as long as you’re married to him,” he feigns fake innocence, and you only smile back, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, because you’re not sure how long that’s going to be. You never discussed this with Donghyuck, and Renjun has given you something to stay up all night mulling over. 

You really don’t know how long it’s going to last, or what the whole outcome of it will be, but you can only hope for it to last for the longest of times.

Telling your parents about your engagement was easy. They loved Donghyuck, and he’s been around you since childhood, in and out of your house like it was his own. Your mother always kept a spare place at the table because ever since he was a child, he was unpredictable. Your mom took care of him whenever he wanted to sleep over, she cooked for him whatever it was he was craving, packed him his lunchbox whenever he stayed over and the following day was a school day, his own lunchbox that he personally chose when your mom took the two of you to the store, him choosing one with Crayon Shin-chan plastered on its lid, and you decided on a MyMelody one. Your dad never understood why he was hanging around your house so often, and then Donghyuck came on your family trip to the seaside when he was eleven, and he could see the dynamic of your friendship. 

So when you broke the news to your parents, they were elated, they loved Donghyuck and couldn’t be happier to have him officially as part of the family in a few months.

Which couldn’t be said about Donghyuck’s parents. They liked you, and they trusted your family enough to allow their child to enter your home, and consequently, to spend all his free time there with you. But there was a line that should have never been crossed, and Donghyuck did when he proposed marriage to you, of all people. Donghyuck comes from a wealthy family, in which generational wealth was at the day’s order. Most, if not all relationships were transactional, but both parties were wealthy, and they both brought wealth into the marriage. Which couldn’t be said about you, because you didn’t grow up rich. You grew up in a normal family, you never lacked anything, but sure enough your parents couldn’t afford to change cars ever so often every time they pleased. And it was a problem for Donghyuck’s family. 

“Can’t they oppose to our marriage or something?” You asked Donghyuck after the two of you left his parents’ house, after Donghyuck broke the news to them while holding your ringed hand up for them to see the engagement ring, and consequently had a fight with his mother right in front of you.

Your confidence wasn’t the highest in that moment, let’s just put it this way.

“Don’t really care,” he frowned, taking your hand in his as the other was holding the steering wheel tightly, “The only approval I need is grandma Lee’s,” he mumbled stopping at the red light, “And she loves you,”

The look in his eyes sent shivers down your spine, making you swallow the lump in your throat, and you remember that feeling so well even if it’s been a few months since.

And now, looking at your feet, the point of your shoes slightly visible from under your long silky dress, you hold on tightly to your bouquet made entirely of Casablanca lilies. 

Your head tilts a bit from behind the partition keeping you safe from the eyes of all your guests, curious as ever to see you walking down the aisle. 

You spot Donghyuck’s family sitting reluctantly on the right side of the church, his side, while looking around themselves with judgement. You’re starting to believe something bad is bound to happen when no one can reach Karina, who’s also one of your bridesmaids, and you’re also starting to regret your decision of agreeing to this plan when you hear people whispering as if you’re not standing a few feet away from them, albeit hidden by a flimsy partition. 

“Where’s Karina?” You start to panic, thinking to yourself that this is a sign. This is a sign that this wedding should not happen.You made it clear in the past few months that you want your ceremony and celebratory party to be perfect, especially because Donghyuck’s family decided to attend, and even if you knew they considered you not to be the perfect bride for their son, you could at least show them a perfect ceremony. Which Karina is fumbling really badly right now.

“She said she’s on her way,” Renjun tries to calm you down, straightening the veil on your back so as to not have any creases. 

“When did she say that?” You grabbed him by the shoulders, your nails hurting his skin even through the fabric of his suit jacket, “Oh my god, Renjun if you’re lying to me-” you’re interrupted by Yerim grabbing your hands, freeing Renjun from your grasp.

“You have to calm down,” Yerim pleads, shaking you slightly. “You need to relax, you’ll walk down this aisle and you need to be your best self,” she grabbed your cheeks lightly, and she resists the urge of kissing you on the cheek because she doesn’t want to ruin your makeup. You look so beautiful right now, even if you’re panicking out of your mind.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Karina’s heels clatter on the marbled floors of the entrance, adjusting her dress which was already starting to crease as she almost started running towards you, “I’m so sorry,” she looks embarrassed, holding the little bouquet Yerim hands over to her.

You let out a sharp exhale, instructing Renjun to go ahead and start the ceremony. Yerim smiles to you and reaches behind you to grab your veil, and gently lets it lay on your front. You hear the piano playing, immediately recognising the tune being played. You remember the day you were supposed to choose the music for the wedding march, when Donghyuck grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the huge shelf of music in front of you.

“I know I said this was going to be your dream wedding,” Donghyuck starts, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “but I have a request to make,” when you nod, he continues, “Can I be the one to choose the music?”

His request took you aback, never expecting him to want to be involved in wedding preparations for a marriage that was purely transactional. To him at least. 

“Of course,” you had said, nodding and he knew you were being genuine by the look in your eyes, so big and sparkly, a clear sign of your sincerity. “This is your wedding too, Hyuck,” you smiled at him and he felt a lump in his throat as soon as he registered your words. 

He smiled back, and went for the exit of the music shop, but you stopped him by grabbing him tightly, “Just don’t pull any kind of Elvis or Hamilton crap in front of your family,” you retorted, serious as ever, to which he smirked.

“Elvis? Costello or Presley?” He joked, and you hoped he was only being annoying like he always is, and not serious. Seeing your sour face, he put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side into a tight embrace, “Oh come on, Y/Nnnie” he whined, and you kicked him as soon as you see pairs of eyes looking at the two of you, “Don’t you want to be part of a little musical act as you walk down the aisle? Like they did in ‘The Office’?” He whispered in your ear, and you can feel the annoying smile in his tone. He kisses your cheek, holding you even tighter, and you can feel shivers down your spine. Before you can react, you feel the arm that was holding you before, loosening its hold on you. 

“I’m being serious, Hyuck,” you began, but he started sprinting past you and out of the record store. “Wait!” You screamed, trying to catch him, “I’m serious! I have rocks with your name written on them, and they’re begging to be thrown at your head!”

You heard him giggle as he picked up his pace, trying to escape your loud mouth. 

And now, hearing the tune the piano starts playing, you understand what it was that he wanted. You immediately recognise Tony Bennett’s tune playing, and you think Donghyuck bagged his favourite pianist to play at his wedding, the one who works at your favourite restaurant downtown, the grace of his fingers unmistaken.

You hear heels clattering, and you know that Donghyuck is being taken down the aisle by grandma Lee, who vehemently insisted to be the one to walk her favourite grandchild on such a great day. And you’re surprised his mother didn’t bat an eye, but you know that’s for the best.

“Go! Go!” You whisper shout to Yerim to start walking down the aisle, and she holds her bouquet tighter in front of her, taking steps one by one.

When you go closer to where the aisle begins, you quickly look around the church, noticing the familiar faces sitting around, waiting for you to make your entrance before they stand up. You see Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin standing behind Donghyuck, whilst his other friends are sitting in the second row, allowing Hyuck’s family to sit in the first. You catch a quick glimpse of Renjun standing on your side, waiting for Karina and Yerim to join him, yet you feel a knot of uncertainty setting deep into your guts and stomach, and when you see Karina taking a few steps down the aisle, you take a few steps out of instinct and grab her forearm, dragging her back to where you were waiting to make your entrance.

“Y/n?” Karina whispers surprised, eyes the size of saucers, swaying a bit trying to regain balance after you drag her after yourself. “Y/n,” she insists, “What is it, sweetie?”

You grab your veil, yet still with care because you don’t want to damage it in any kind of way, and you bring it behind you head, because you feel the need to talk to Karina face to face, not hiding behind any type of fabric.

You look at the guests behind Karina’s back, or at what you can see of them since Karina is obstructing most of your view. 

“I- I don’t think I can do this,” you whisper, skeptical, and Karina thinks she’s never seen your eyes this big in size.

“What?” Karina tilts her head, not understanding where this doubt is coming from. 

But she isn’t in your head, she can’t hear your thoughts, and most certainly she doesn’t know on what grounds this wedding is happening. Everything is an illusion, a lie, and you feel the sweat starting to cling to the skin of your neck. As months passed, you really started to believe all of Donghyuck’s delusions, and all the lies, and all the endless conversations and discussions you two had about his masterplan, which unfortunately started to make sense to you as well. It was like the blind leading the blind. 

And up to this point, seeing yourself wearing expensive accessories and an even more expensive wedding gown, seeing everyone who’s believed your lies sitting excitedly as they’re waiting for you to make your entrance, hearing the melody of the piano playing one of Donghyuck’s favourite songs of one of his favourite artists, it hits you. And it hits you hard, and you can feel your eyes swelling with tears. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Karina insists as she understands that she has a panicked bride on her hands. Not only a panicked bride, but a room full of whispering guests that start to grow more and more curious as they sense something is going on with the bride. And how can we forget the groom, who’s nervously biting his bottom lip as he looks at his grandmother sitting in the first seat, on the first row on his side. 

“I can’t do this, Karina. This,” you move your hand around, pointing at the church and all the decorations, including your outfit and hers, “this is all wrong. Very wrong,” you whisper, and Karina’s impressed by your eyes not diminishing in size.

“But why, honey?” She presses, “Donghyuck loves you” she caresses your bare arm, her other hand holding the small bouquet stiffly. “And you love him too,” she’s trying really hard to calm you down, as she notices you trying to swallow what she thinks is a lump in your throat. “You do, don’t you?” She inquires when she notices that you keep looking towards a spot behind her back.

And truthfully, you do. And maybe that’s what’s scary to you. Marrying someone you love so deeply, but who’s only marrying you out of convenience. You love Donghyuck for all his flaws and faults, his annoying side, his bugging, his cold facade, but you also love him because, well, it’s him. You’ve grown up with him by your side, and you realise you made him your ideal type, influenced by his permanent presence and knowing everything about him. And how unfair is it, realising someone is marrying you as part of a fraudulent plan?

You look at Karina, nodding. “I do, I do love him so much,”

“Then what’s the problem?” Karina asks once again, seeing your eyes brimming with tears. When you don’t say anything back, Karina starts crossing her legs, fidgeting where she's standing. She looks behind herself, discreetly, as to sense the vibes filling the room. The few last rows of guests already turned around to look at the two of you, asking themselves if this ceremony is ever going to even start. “Listen, sweetie,” she reaches for you once more, grabbing you by your forearm trying to assure you, “Who cares about this ceremony, anyway?” She waves her hand around trying to convey assurance, although she’s scared shitless of what you might do and how this day could end. 

“You don’t have to do this. We can get a cab outside and go away, if that’s what you want. You don’t need to get married today, who cares?”

You gulp, looking behind her to the waves of faces and heads wondering what’s going on. You spot grandma Lee’s head, who’s throwing questioning looks at you and her nephew, although you’re sure she can’t really see you thanks to Karina’s figure standing in front of you. And then you spot him, Donghyuck, tilting his head to look at you, trying to see you even with Karina obstructing his view. And his curious eyes meet your scared ones, and you gulp once more. 

“Hyuck,” you whisper, trying to compose yourself as you break eye contacting with him, “Hyuck cares. And I do too,” you conclude, grabbing your veil fast, bringing it to cover your head and face once again. “I am getting married today,”

You use your hand to make Karina spin around, gently pushing her forward. 

“Psst, Karina” you whisper shout, using a hand to move the veil a bit from your face so your eyes meet hers once again, “Do not say a word to Yeri and Renjun. Now go! Go!” You usher her to walk in front of you.

You look at your feet once again, and you touch the expensive, silky dress clinging nicely to your waist and bust, and then at the bouquet of Casablanca lilies you’re holding tightly in your hands. And yes, while wearing your expensive Vivienne Westwood dress, and walking down the aisle to The shadow of your smile, you are going to get married to who you think is indeed, the love of your life. 

The first few months were milk and honey. Your dynamic didn’t change much, except for the fact that you were sharing a bed permanently. You’ve always shared a bed while growing up and consequently in your adult years too, yet now it’s different. You can look at him in his usual white tee and large pyjama shorts that show the tanned skin of his thighs and it dawns on you that he is your husband. Your husband. And all the times he wears his expensive watch before going to work in the morning, your eyes skip to his fingers, searching for his wedding ring out of instinct. He always wears it. You’ve never seen him taking it off in the past eight months, which can’t be said about you. You took it off every time you were cleaning around or washing the dishes.

Three months after your wedding ceremony, grandma Lee passed, and Donghyuck’s fraudulent plan came to a successful end. Donghyuck bought you a house, took you on holidays around the world, gave you anything you wanted and everything he thought you deserved. And he did all this while wearing the wedding ring. Donghyuck could see the dreamy look in your eyes, but he never looked too much into it, thinking it was all about the hundred million dollars you were now sharing between the two of you. You were still the same Y/n, and he was still the same Donghyuck, except for the fat bank accounts and the sharing of the bed.

To Donghyuck, sharing a bed wasn’t that big of a deal. He’s slept on the same surface as you multiple times before, the only thing that’s changed now was the fact that the two of you were legally bound, and he actually liked being able to say that he was married to you, and that you are his wife. People never expected him to even be in a relationship, and never expected someone as beautiful as you to get married this young, and he found it hilarious.

“I like being married to you,” he says, chewing on a piece of steak he grilled in the back garden.

You seem taken aback by his words, blinking a few times before clearing your throat, “You do?”

“Yes,” he smirks. That stupid smirk that you hate because you know he’s about to say something annoying, but love at the same time because it’s his smirk. “We’re still the same, we’re still us,” he swallows the bite, “except you’re my wife, and that isn’t so bad,” he smirks again and you have no idea where this conversation is going. He’s a bit tipsy, having already opened a second bottle of red wine, and except the two glasses you had for yourself, the remaining alcohol is in his system. “Why wait and date around to get married, when we’re right here? I have you and you have me, we’re locked in for life, baby,” 

You feel a lump in your throat, and you’re not sure if it’s because he might have just promised you eternity by his side, or the fact that he’s just admitting to be settling for you instead of trying to go after someone he might actually love.

But you agreed to this, to the life he’s promised you. When you looked into his mischievous eyes once he kneeled down in front of you, you knew what you were getting into. Putting your feelings aside, being able to call Donghyuck yours even if he wasn’t anything more than the childhood friend you grew to love in a different way than the way he claimed he loved you back. The casual ‘be careful, love you’s you two threw in at the end of phone calls or when saying goodbye after school became to you much more than what they became to Donghyuck. But the gleam of hopefulness he’s always held in his gaze as he said he believed in you, as he tried to coerce you into committing fraud, as he promised you the moon, the stars, and everything else hanging in the sky, it really made you believe that you could have it all. If this all meant having Donghyuck next to you for the next years, decades, then it was all worth it.

And your routine as a married couple becomes just that, a routine. Waking up in the morning, making breakfast, and then he leaves for work because, unlike you, he still kept a job. And then you don’t know how to make time pass faster until he comes back home, to you. You fill your time with shopping sprees and activities you’ve never thought you would be picking up —  going to the spa and playing tennis every other day. The months pass and you’re not sure how your life has become so boring. Before, you really had it all and you didn’t even realise. A job, your own apartment, your own car that Donghyuck got rid of after the two of you got married, just to gift you another one. You used to hang out with your friends multiple days a week, now it’s a miracle if you see them once every two weeks. Moving to a mansion at the outskirts of the city isolated you, and you relied on Donghyuck for all the support you needed. 

As for your relationship with him, there really isn’t much to say. Nothing has changed, except that he seems to be less annoying, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already become too used to him and his personality since the wedding happened. At first, you travelled together for your honeymoon, and you swear you were on the brink of divorcing him, but that annoying feeling has subsided considerably, and you have a faint idea of the reason why that is.

And then, you start to notice Donghyuck doesn’t come home for dinner time that often anymore. Hell, you could say that it’s a miracle if he comes home on time for dinner at least two days a week. Most times, he comes home too late and has to eat alone, while talking to you about his day and what his plans for the following day are. Other times, he goes straight to take a shower, telling you he’s not hungry and that he’ll take a bite of what you’ve cooked in the morning instead.

And tonight, it’s both. He promised he’d be back on time for dinner and then High School Musical marathon on your big flat screen tv. But the dinner has run cold, you’ve already taken a shower, and by the time you hear Donghyuck’s keys open the heavy front door, you’ve already played the first two films.

“Honey I’m hom-”, he’s interrupted by a gasp, and you can hear his heavy footsteps run down the hallway to the living room, “Did you really start without me?” He whines, and you almost cannot believe your ears.

“Please tell me you’re not serious right now, Hyuck,” you warn, looking at him.

Donghyuck looks at you, at your figure, at your eyes. You’re looking at him, and there’s something in your gaze that, for the first time in years, he can’t decipher. Your eyes are sleepy, almost droopy, a clear sign of your tiredness. Or maybe you’re just disappointed and tired of him.

He plops down next to you, looking at you apologetically, and the action makes you jump on your spot on the couch. “I’m an idiot,” he whispers.

“You are,” you agree, nodding your head as you return your attention to the high screen in front of your figures.

“Are you mad at me?” He tests the waters, and it only makes you want to punch his face more.

“Why would I be mad?” You scoff, bringing your legs to your chest, an action he knows you do when you try to avoid confrontation.

“You’re not looking at me, Y/n” he mumbles, and it makes you roll your eyes. He knows you too well. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot. I just lost track of time,” he tries to explain to you, but honestly you don’t care. 

You think your blood pressure has gone through the roof when your ears start ringing and your palm is itching to be smacked against his face. 

“Doing what?” You ask, and if looks could kill, Donghyuck is sure he’d be in great agony right now, just about there, on the verge of dying. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since he plopped down next to you, and Donghyuck knows better than talking nonsense and making you even angrier, because you always smell his bullshit a mile away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, trying to dodge your question, “Was with the boys out for dinner,” he pouts, “I promise we can spend as much time together as we used to once I’m done with this project at work. Kiss and make up?” He tries one of his oldest tricks on you. Ever since elementary school, every time you were upset with him he would pull this stunt on you. The upset one being kissed on the cheek in a sweet and childish attempt to make things better with a gesture of intimacy neither you nor Donghyuck liked showing to other people. Only to each other. 

And his attempt to make you at least slightly less upset with him is successful when the corners of your mouth turn upright just slightly. So he leans in, successfully invading your personal space, his head mere centimetres away from yours, and his chapped lips seem to leave a burning mark when he smacks a kiss on the plush of your left cheek. 

And that’s not the only thing that’s left burning right now, as you sense a scent you don’t really recognise. It’s so sweet it burns your nostrils, that consequently flare as a result of the nauseating fragrance that has invaded your personal space.

He retracts himself, singing along with Gabriella, but you don’t focus on the scene or what’s happening around you at the moment. You look at him, as he’s slouched on the couch, his head propped up by one of the cushions on the couch. He seems content with you dropping the topic of his late arrival and the dismissal of all your plans for the evening, and you’re left wondering if he’s aware of the fact that he smells like fucking cheap perfume. 

The smell is so strong up your nose that you’re sure there’s no amount of fresh air that can get rid of it, it’s the kind of smell you spray from a tester out of pure curiosity and it’s the worst fucking mistake you can ever do because the horrible smell will cling to your skin for the rest of the day. Too sweet and too strong.

You’re snatched out of your own thoughts when you see him turning his head to look at you, “I need to take a shower,” he announces, standing to his feet and moving towards the hall with the staircase to your shared bedroom and bathroom. “And after that I’m all yours, baby” he sings, and you’re once again left wondering, but this time all by yourself.

All mine, you repeat his words in your head a few times, but the only thing you can do right now is question if that’s really the case, or if it will ever be. 

Days pass and you seem to be unable to get the nauseatingly sweet smell of that perfume out of your senses. You perceive it at random times, while cooking, while cleaning, and you know it’s all in your head, because you washed every piece of fabric that Donghyuck could have touched a few night ago with his skin, even after showering.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Sensing another woman’s perfume on your husband’s skin made your skin crawl and your heart drop to your ass. But is it even correct to call him your husband? He’s still your best friend, and that’s all he is meant to be forever. You can’t call him your husband if it’s just the two of you, because in all honesty it doesn’t feel like a normal marriage.

Because it isn’t, you’re reminded by your own voice of conscience.

And you know that’s right. The marriage is just a cover for when your families and friends are around, you don’t get to enjoy all the privileges of being married when there’s no one around, and you realise it’s upsetting you.

What the fuck is going on with me? You end up asking yourself. Why is this situation getting to you? You knew what you were getting into, you knew who Donghyuck is and what he goes around doing, you’ve known him for all your life and even helped him get out of unpleasant situations multiple times, so why exactly is it bothering you so much? 

You’re pulled back from you own thoughts when your phone rings, and you pick it up to see who the caller is. 

“Yes,” you sigh, not really in the mood to hear his voice.

“Wow, gosh, could you be more enthusiastic of my call?” Donghyuck’s tone is full of sarcasm, and you’re seriously contemplating if you should just hang up the call.

“I’m kind of busy,” you lie, “what is it?”

“I’m getting off work early tonight, wanna have dinner with me tonight?” He asks, and you can hear the car’s engine making noise in the background. “Y/n, hello?” He raises his voice a bit, thinking there’s no signal.

“Jesus fucking Christ, stop sounding like a hyena in heat,” you retort, bothered by the high pitch of his voice. “Pick me up at eight?” 

“It’s a date!” He cheers on the other end of the line.

As much as you didn’t want to be in his proximity right now, you can’t deny the fact that you miss him, and spending time with him. You’d still rather watch a lion feasting on an antelope rather than seeing his face and hearing him talk to you about trivial stuff as if he didn’t come home smelling like another woman. But the truth is that you miss him. You miss his company, his presence, the idiotic jokes he makes and the smart comments he lets out when you watch a film or show him some new music. You miss him spending time with you, just being together most of the time, and worst of all is that you miss talking to him. You used to talk to him about everything. From family problems to boy issues, from uncertainties to future plans, and he used to be there for you, attentive as ever as if your words held the truth to all secrets and mysteries of this planet. 

And you’re hoping that tonight it can be just that. You hope he misses you and your company just as much, and that he made these plans to take you out in an attempt to close the gap that has formed in your relationship. If you feel the distance and all these upsetting feelings and thoughts, then he must feel them too, right?

But the hours pass, and like some sort of sick tradition he’s trying to establish in your relationship lately, he doesn’t show up. You’re in a dress, you smell nice, you look spectacular, waiting for him to take you out for dinner at the new amazing place he’s found. Your stomach churns realising that he probably landed in that place with someone else as his date, and that’s how he discovered it, and you grab your purse before exiting the house.

You need to go out by yourself, and clear your head of all the insecurities you realise this marriage has given you. You used to enjoy his own company, and you used to look forward to having Donghyuck around you so often. But now it only irritates you, the thought of being in his proximity makes you want to punch a wall, because you know you can’t be near him right now. He knows you too well for your own sake, and knows if something is off the moment your gaze meets his, so it’s better to avoid him if you want to save your face in this pathetic masquerade. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? As long as people don’t see him going around on dates with other women, you have to go along with all of his actions. How would you explain to him that you know what he’s been doing behind your back? Because that’s what hurts you the most, his need of going behind your back instead of telling you about it all like he used to do in the past. Why did things have to change? 

Your chest feels heavy and your eyes ready to spill some tears. You make your way to your car, you need to be by yourself. Not like you haven’t been mostly by yourself in the past months, but realising why this happened makes you want to disappear into thin air. And you need to be far away, in a place where you can clear your mind, far away from Donghyuck, his smell, and you shared house — where everything reminds you of him, what could have been, and a macabre reminder of what it actually is.

Donghyuck doesn’t know how he got home the night before, too much alcohol present in his system. But he knows one thing, you weren’t there in your shared bed. Considering the taste in his mouth as soon as he wakes up, he can only imagine how bad he smells and that it would have probably woken you up the moment his head hit the pillow next to yours, knowing your sensitive nose. Because of this, he thinks you not being here last night and this morning to witness his state is a blessing. But he also knows that he misses you. He remembers being cold last night, and when he reached for you in search of heat, you weren’t there. 

Donghyuck’s head raises from his pillow, a splitting headache making him hit the pillow once again. 

You’ve never been away at night, not since this marriage happened. Suddenly, he remembers he has your location, and he can check your whereabouts on his phone.

“She’s home?” He mumbles surprised, making a huge effort not to whine in pain as soon as he stands off the bed and his head starts throbbing.

In his actual state, he doesn’t know where in this huge house to look for you, but then his head feels like being split in half when he hears the clanking of some pots and pans downstairs in the kitchen, and his nose picks up the faint smell of coffee and pancakes.

“Good morning,” he tests the waters as soon as he sets foot in the kitchen, but the bright light coming from outside the open window makes him whine in pain, and he brings his hand over his eyes in a sudden movement.

“Morning,” you reply back, flipping the two pancakes in your pan.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, just in front of where you’re working your ingredients, and you feel his gaze following you and your movements.

“How long have you been gone last night?” He asks out of curiosity, and he sees you suddenly frowning. He loves getting to talk to you face to face, because you can never hide your emotions from him. He knows every jot and tittle of yours.

“How long have you been gone last night?” You have a sudden burst, asking him the same question, and you grip that pancake spatula so harshly your knuckles turn white.

“What?” Donghyuck straightens his back on the high chair, looking at you confused. Seeing you so upset makes him forget about his muscles pain and splitting headache. Why are you so worked up for?

And then it downs on him. Last night, the alcohol, the company, losing track of time. The plans he’s made with you. He’s been away almost every night in the past months, and he never paid too much attention to you, because he never thought it would bother you this much. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him right now, and he knows he’s fucked up. You’re never avoidant unless you are really upset, or you’re trying to avoid confrontation because you’re about to open your mouth to pour your heart out. He’s witnessed this behaviour of yours multiple times, so he knows what to expect from you.

Except this time, you don’t start a fight, you don’t get teary eyed, you don’t tell him what has been bothering you. But he already knows. He’s been away too much, and he’s bailed on you a lot lately. 

You keep your eyes on your pancakes and on the huge bowl with batter, not even once looking at him.

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/n,” he mumbles softly, and by his tone you realise he’s genuine.

“What are you sorry for?” You ask, as if it didn’t really matter to you. Except it really mattered, more than you’d like to admit. But you’ve heard him apologise to you on many occasions in the last few weeks and months, and you feel like it’s lost its meaning.

“For forgetting about you and our plans,” he answers. Ouch. Him saying it out loud hurt more than the thoughts running lapses around your head. “I’m really sorry for not being here more often,” he continues.

And he really is, because he’s gone about his life like he didn’t coerce you into getting married for his own good. He thought that the setting down part will be done, and then the huge bank account that would come with it would be an advantage. When he said nothing has to change in your dynamic, he meant it. He wants you to go out and live your life to the fullest, especially now that the both of you share millions of dollars. There’s nothing that can stop you, nor him. While you have a joint account, for which Donghyuck insisted, he also insisted you had your own bank accounts and own cards to use as you please. “No need for me to see what, when and where you spend our money,” he explained to you, and at that time you accepted the idea. The bigger, joint account was your safety net, because while you weren’t the big spender Donghyuck encouraged you to be, he liked throwing money left and right. He supposes it’s about the upbringing, and he knows that you still struggle to let yourself go on shopping sprees worth thousands of dollars a time and getting out of the house now that you quit your job. He just wishes you would let loosen up for a bit to enjoy what this marriage has brought you. Let yourself enjoy the money and the liberty of still doing everything you were used to doing before being legally bound to him.

“Y/n,” he calls your name, “Look at me,” he instructs, and you have to gather all your willpower to do as he says, because there’s nothing you want more than to tell him to fuck off.

When you look at him, he freezes in his chair. Your gaze is so full of emotion, so hurt, and he realises the tears he was expecting you to shed in your usual upset burst weren’t there because you had already shed them before, all by yourself.

He stands to his feet, and starts walking around the marble kitchen island to reach your figure. “My sweet Y/n,” he coos, pulling you in a tight hug. “Please forgive me,” your head rests in the crook of his neck, and Donghyuck’s skin tingles when he feels your breathing against his skin. 

“You’ll have to do some grovelling before I can forgive you,” you mumble against the skin of his neck, and he lets a deep laugh escape him. 

“What if I did the grovelling while having breakfast together on the terrace?” He asks, moving his head to look behind yourselves outside the window, checking the weather. “Sounds good?” He moves back to his initial position, his head resting on yours. 

You nod, holding him a little tighter. “Let’s spend tomorrow together,” he proposes, and you nod once again.

“Before you start grovelling for breakfast, you need to go shower,” you let your arms fall, getting out of his embrace, gently pushing his chest to guide him out of the kitchen, “You stink of alcohol,”

He whines offended, but he knows you’re right. Before he can get out the room he stops in his tracks. “Kiss and make up?” He pouts his lips, closing his eyes and fluttering his lashes like the drama queen he is. No conflict is ever resolved without a kiss and make up situation. You lean in, this time giving him a small peck on the lips instead of extending your cheek for him to kiss.

The action visibly takes him aback, but he doesn’t say anything, and he exits the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face.

You look at the tv, at the bottles of beer scattered around you and Donghyuck, and the Chinese takeout boxes resting on the coffee table in front of you. At his long, tanned legs as he sits on the carpet next to you, his gaze fixed on the tv playing Notting Hill.

After a painfully long time, Donghyuck made an effort to be with you. No more excuses, no more hiding, he knows he’s been away and distant for a few months now, and after the euphoria of the wedding and the first few exciting months of being married to you had worn off he basically went back to his old ways, as if the past few months have never happened and he was still an eligible bachelor ready to roam the streets of the city almost, if not every night. 

He knows he owes this to you, to the decades of friendship with you, to the love he has for you. He loves you more than he would a sister, but less than a romantic interest, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s the decades of friendship that have gotten him so attached to you, or maybe the fact that you’ve always understood and protected him the best you could. Whenever his parents fought, and he got dragged in these relentless fights between the two of them, being asked to pick a side, he flew the scene and came running to your house. You’ve always understood him, you’ve always shared everything with him, you and your parents made him realise what normality is like. A loving family, not everything being about money and power and jealousy. And that’s one of the reasons why he married you, he knows it. Apart from being the one to know him best, even more than his family and grandma Lee, you’re the one who provided him peace and tranquillity, the safety of being loved and, no matter how many times he fucked up, you were always there for him — even if you scolded him first. He can’t pinpoint the nature of all the feelings he has for you, but he knows that you bring him the kind of comfort and safety no one has ever even tried bringing him.

You feel his gaze on you, and you turn your head to throw him a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” You ask, a deep frown plastered on your pretty face.

He’s snapped out of his own thoughts, and looks at you like a deer in highlights, seemingly taken aback by the fact that he was so deep into his head that he didn’t even realise he was looking at you. He tries to conceal what he thinks was a surprised face when you bursted his bubble, and looks at you with fake annoyance. 

“Y/n,” he says your name, sporting a serious expression, “I will have to be very honest with you,”

You turn your whole body around so you can face his, and you giggle looking at his face. Judging by the scene that’s on right now on the tv, you know exactly what he’s about to say. 

“You hate Anna Scott?” You say it before he can.

“I hate Anna Scott,” he confirms, throwing his head back so it hits the seat of the couch, “how can you even like her, she’s the worst!” He whines, lazily pointing his hand towards the tv screen where Julia Roberts’s character is having a fight with Hugh Grant’s.

“Because!” You gasp, smiling sheepishly, knowing that what you’re about to say is going to annoy the hell out of him. “She’s just a girl!” You start, and Donghyuck is already rolling his eyes at you, “Standing in front of a boy!” You’re so excited to do your number, and Donghyuck doesn’t say anything but he turns his head to look the other way. “Asking him to love her!” You end your act by grabbing his black t-shirt and pulling him a bit towards you.

Donghyuck looks at you, at your hands on his chest, at your excitement, and he can’t help being surprised. He also can’t help the rosy cheeks he feels getting hotter and hotter, and the strange movements happening in the pit of his stomach. This never happened before, every time he was the one initiating any type of physical touch with you, or even when you give him as much as a hug back. But he never felt this way.

He tries to regain his composure, pushing himself up against the foot of the couch to an upright posture. He clears his throat as smoothly as he can, trying to remember what was happening before you became so excited. Ah yes, fucking Anna Scott.

“She’s just a girl,” he copies you with a whiney tone, rolling his eyes once again. “She’s an idiot, that’s what she is, Y/n. She’s despicable, so much that they should make a Despicable Me film with her as the main villain,” He argues, his smooth forehead now marked by a deep frown, his index repeatedly and forcibly poking on the carpet underneath the both of you, trying to make his point come across.

You pause the film, outraged at his hate for the character. It wasn’t the first time he hated on her, but he was never this vocal. 

“She’s not that bad, Hyuck” you retort, bringing your legs up to your chest, your body still facing his.

He smirks at you, that kind of attractive, devious smirk he makes when he’ll start a debate with you just to crush you and your opinions like a cockroach in a sewer. 

“Think about it, Y/n,” he says, his body turning towards yours, imitating the way you are sitting. “If the roles were to be reversed, would you think this way?” He asks, smirking at you, tsking in disapproval.

You look at him, weighting his words, and you’re sure your eyes are the size of saucers while looking into his smug ones. 

“She plays with that poor man’s heart, Y/n. She plays this push and pull game I really don’t know why William loves her, it’s like she likes hurting him and he’s an idiot too for sticking with her for so long,” he sighs as if he was William himself, going through that kind of pain himself.

You look at him, unimpressed. It’s ironic, really, he's mocking the ones who play with other people’s hearts.

“Thank god William learnt some self respect, right?” You whisper back, looking at his side profile, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. Except, he never looks back at you, laughing at your words with his specific deep laugh that he lets out whenever he’s taken by surprise.

For god’s sake, he can’t read the fucking room, you think.

“Yeah, that too,” he agrees after he recomposes himself, finally looking at you, his facial features relaxed with amusement. “But it’s a cute ending, I’ll give you that, baby” he responds, going back to the smugness you so love and hate at the same time.

“Thank you for today,” you tell him when the film is over, the last song playing loudly in the background, making Donghyuck start humming it. He knows it by heart, with all the times you made him watch your favourite film and the countless times you put the soundtrack on.

“No, I should be the one to thank you,” he explains, picking up the beer bottles scattered around the room and walking behind you towards the kitchen, where you’re headed with all the Chinese takeout boxes balanced in your arms. “I know I haven’t been a present friends, or we could say husband, but I really want you to know that you matter to me and things between you and I haven’t changed,” he explains, and it feels like a sharp object is piercing your chest repeatedly.

Just another reminder that things are still the same according to him. Another reminder that things between the two of you will never change the way you wanted.

Sensing his piercing gaze on your figure, you nod, not feeling like letting any words out. 

You leave the kitchen first promising to clean all the mess in the morning, but Donghyuck is close behind you, and you can still sense his gaze on your figure as you make your way in and out of the ensuite bathroom, and his eyes feel very heavy on you, like there’s something he needs to bring up and doesn’t know how, so instead he just looks at you until you’ll spare him a look.

So, you spare him a look. And he’s like a kicked puppy, sitting in the middle of the bed and you sense uncertainty in his posture. The easy going Donghyuck you know is nowhere to be found, and you feel obligated to intervene and ask him what’s going on in that head of his.

“Hyuck,” you say his name, climbing into bed, “Is everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, but you can see him still being hesitant about something.

“You sure?” You giggle, trying to ease his nerves. He’s never hid anything from you, and he’s never taken so long to open up about something either. You never had to coerce him into opening up about what’s bothering him. “Hyuck, look at me,” you say, but it comes out more as a question. 

He avoids your plea for a bit, and then he gives in and his gaze meets yours. It’s sparkling, but not with his usual smugness and joy. Instead, you’re met with an emotional look that looks like might be on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, grabbing his cheeks, and you notice how they’re burning up. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he says, avoiding your eyes once again, even if you’re holding his head still with your hands. “I've treated you so badly lately, I cannot imagine how my avoidance affected you day by day, and as I said before, I know I haven’t been here for you and truth be told, I don’t want anything to change. I dont want to lose you, and I certainly don’t want you to resent me in any kind of way. I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he pauses in order to take a breath in.

You let go of his face, speechless, not knowing if you should open up as well or if you should let him be the only one to open up right now. 

“I want you to know that no matter what, I love you. I really do, Y/n,” he grabs your face with his clammy hands, a clear sign of the nerves he’s experiencing right now, “I care about you, and nothing or no one will come between you and me, yeah?” 

His eyes are sincere, but his words sting like hell. He says he loves you, but to what extent? You know the kind of feelings you have for him, you’re aware of them and you know their nature, but is he as certain of his, as you are of yours? 

You’re so deep into your head that you fail to notice the kind of gaze Donghyuck is giving you, but when you raise your eyes to look at his face, you notice how his eyes are on your lips and immediately shift back to you eyes. 

You lick your lips out of instinct, a habit you’ve had all your life when your boyfriends and partners looked at your lips before kissing you, and you close your eyes embarrassed after doing it in front of Donghyuck. After all, he’s just… your husband.

Donghyuck’s clammy hands gently squeeze the side of your face, trying to bring your attention back to him. You open your eyes and your gaze lands instantly on his lips, knowing his face’s proportion perfectly by now, your eyes sliding immediately without you not even registering the action. Until you feel him leaning in, his eyes barely open, and there’s a force that pulls you in closer to him, and even if you wanted to pull back you know that’s not what you really want. But is it what he really wants?

You give up on trying to analyse the situation right now, and you grab his wrists as you feel him getting rid of the mere centimetres of distance between your lips. His plump lips feel sweet amidst the kiss, the way they sit perfectly on yours makes you feel elated, and you briefly remember who you’re kissing right now. You cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but the kiss is too intoxicating to come to reason with your conscience, and you feel his tongue poke tentatively for access. You grant it, and he smiles into the kiss, his tongue now dancing with yours in a sweet saccharine waltz. You don’t care about the way you’re both running out of air, the way his kiss is getting more and more desperate, and the way you can’t stop chasing his lips now that you’re feeling like you’ve opened pandora’s box. 

He detaches himself from your lips, the action making a popping sound that you’ve never found this hot until today. 

“Just promise me,” you say, taking big breaths as discretely as possible, your throat feeling incredibly dry all of a sudden. “Promise me you’ll never run away from me,” you say, caressing his cheek, and he leans into your touch like a poor animal looking for affection.

“Okay,” he promises, pulling you into his embrace, and it feels like he’s promising you the whole universe.

But you should have known better than trusting Donghyuck. Is like ever since he married you he’s done nothing but hurt and lie to you, like the decades of friendship have never happened and like the past didn’t even matter to him. The promises he’s made in the wedding vows and the ones made to you personally and privately, have no value to him, you’ve come to this conclusion the next day, when he was nowhere to be found.

He was out the door before you could wake up to make breakfast, and you wouldn’t hear from him for the entirety of the day. He would come back home late, knowing his dinner had already run cold, not like it ever mattered anyway since you know he was having dinner out, possibly with some other female companion. He would come to bed, thinking you’re sound asleep, but you felt and heard everything. The sighs, the stirring in his sleep, the occasional smell of alcohol on his breath, the way he would keep his distance from you every night. 

It went on this way for five days before you couldn’t take it anymore, so you moved your essentials out of your shared bedroom and bathroom, to one of the guest rooms. And it should have been this way since the beginning. Apparently being married has no value to the one you thought understood you the best, and what’s a signed paper in front of bodily desires? Nothing, that’s for sure.

This way you’re spared the icky perfumes he comes home having traces of on his skin and clothes, you’re spared the presence of a person that clearly doesn’t love you the way they claimed before, nor does he really care for you, you’re sure of this. Who breaks a promise to someone they supposedly say they love? You’re spared the sadness you feel when he doesn’t reach out to you all day and ultimately comes home at the crack of dawn, and the hesitation you feel when he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed before he decides to lie down next to you. And, most importantly, you’re spared the heartbreak.

The marriage is just a contract to him, you’re just some sort of friends only, treating you like a housemate who he gets the privilege of calling his wife to the outside world. No amount of money, fancy dinners, and privileges that his status brought to you once you married him is worth the pain you’re feeling being ignored by him out of all people. If it were Renjun, you’d understand. If it were one of the girls, it would be logical since you stopped hanging out that often with all your friends ever since you got married. No more meet ups in the middle of the week, no more wine parties during film nights with them. You changed when you got married, but you never thought shit would hit the fan so fast. You could understand if anyone treated you this badly, but not Donghyuck. The bond you two shared was too important, at least for you. But he doesn’t value it as much, that much is clear to you.

You move rooms, you stop making dinner, only eating small portions by yourself because, after all, everything would end up in the bin if you made dinner for him as well. You sleep alone at night, even if you’re cold as hell and you miss his body emanating heat, but you don’t think he’s even noticed your moving rooms. With the amount of alcohol he ingests before returning home late at night, you’re not even sure how he can remember where home is.

You start looking for sports courses, pottering classes, airplane tickets for vacations you’ve always wanted to go on, anything that could get you back on track and to stop you from being the wannabe perfect wife to someone who doesn’t even consider you his wife worth respecting.

Two weeks pass since you two shared the kiss, and Donghyuck’s still avoiding you like the plague. So you do him a favour and make it easier for him by hiding from him. 

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch biting on an apple and watching a documentary when your phone rings. No one ever calls you, and in a pathetic attempt of hoping that he’s the one calling, you’re reminded of how much of a fool you are when you’re met with Jaemin’s name and contact picture looking right back at you. He never calls you, only talking to you through texts, so your stomach drops when your thoughts start racing, thinking that the reason Jaemin’s calling has something to do with something bad that’s happened to Donghyuck.

“Jaemin?” You ask, falling short of breath expecting the worst news ever. You suddenly regret the cold shoulder you’ve given Donghyuck.

“Y/n, yes, hi” he answers robotically, and you feel hesitation in his voice.

“Did something happen?” You push it, trying to brace yourself for the worst possible news.

“Mmm, just wanted to ask you something,” he says but it comes out more like a question. When you prompt him to continue, you hear him breathe through his teeth hesitantly, “I wanted to see if Hyuck’s home, maybe?” You know Jaemin well enough to know that he is conflicted and embarrassed by this phone call.

“What?” You ask incredulously. “Is this the reason you called?” You bark back, knowing that Jaemin is not one of the people you need to hide from when it comes to the real you, and your vulgar mouth with all the swear words.

“I didn’t know who to call,” he says but it sounds like a question once again, his tone defensive. “Me and Mark were supposed to meet him at my apartment tonight, and he didn’t show up. We thought something had happened because he said he’d come home to grab a quick bite with you, but he never came back and it’s been two hours” he explains, and you hear Mark telling him what kind of questions to ask you, “I’m sorry Y/n, just call me if you ever need anything”.

You sigh, once again disappointed. “I’m sorry Jaemin,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “And Mark,” you continue, knowing he’s listening as well. “I’m sorry but Donghyuck never came home, and I don’t know where he is,” you say, before bidding goodbye to the two.

What a fucking idiot, you mumble, throwing your phone on the couch. You pick up your apple but you can’t chew on it right now, not with the lump that’s formed in your throat, suffocating you.

Why is Donghyuck acting the way he is? To you, to his friends? It's like he doesn’t want to keep the cover up of this marriage intact to the eyes of outsiders.

Lost in your own thoughts you lose track of time, the first documentary ends just for another one to start. You fail to hear the car parking outside your house, but you don’t fail to notice the tingling of keys just outside your front door. Waiting for Donghyuck to enter and be as drunk as he’s made a habit of being, just for him to then skip checking the living room or any other room in the house and go directly to the upstairs bedroom, you’re incredibly irritated when you realise he’s so drunk off his ass that he can’t see where to put the keys in.

You stand to you feet, approaching the front door, and just in that moment the door opens slightly, showing a dishevelled Donghyuck totter forward in the hallway. He notices you, and he smirks at you as if you’re not ready to kick him in the throat for all the mixed feelings you’re feeling because of him. You’ve never felt more low, more pathetic, more disrespected than right now.

“Hi, baby” he rasps, and you know that the tone of his voice and the words he just spoke would have had you on cloud nine. But now you feel disgusted. 

“Where the fuck have you been? And why are you so drunk at seven in the evening?” You ask, a deep frown plastered on you features. 

He tsks, trying to stand upright, and that’s when you see it. At first you think it’s just the shadow of his shirt’s collar, but then you look more attentively, and a simple shadow can’t have red and brown and purple tones plastered all over.

A hickey? Your heart drops and you think you’re about to black out in about ten seconds because of the distress you feel right now. Another woman’s scent is something, but a mark on his body is another thing completely. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, but he’s too drunk to bring it up, and you know it’s not really your place to hold him accountable for this. So your internal war goes on and on, and on.

So you try to play it off by chewing his head off like a good friend would do. And you hope the hurt in your eyes goes unnoticed, but you don’t think too deeply about this because he’s too drunk to remember his own name.

“Where have you been, Hyuck?” You ask softly, but he’s too drunk to sense the amicable tone you’re using, and gets defensive immediately.

“Why the fuck do you keep asking me this, Y/n?” He barks, and somehow it hurts you more than anything he’s previously done to you.

The lump in your throat sets itself once again, threatening to make you spill the dinner and the apple you had tonight. But looking at Donghyuck’s dishevelled self, smelling him, and seeing the marks on his neck completely enrages you, making you find the voice to snarl back at him.

“Don’t fucking raise your voice because I’m on the verge of punching you in the throat, Donghyuck” you snarl through gritted teeth.

“You’re so sexy when you threaten me, and you using my government name, baby,” he smirks, trying to keep his upright posture the best he can.

“Stop being an idiot,” you push his shoulder, making him lose his balance for just a second. “Jaemin called me, Donghyuck,” you push him once again, this time his back comes into touch with the wall behind him, and the mention of his friend’s name snaps Donghyuck out of whatever dizziness he was in. His eyes are the size of saucers, and he seems like he wants to say something but you cut him off immediately, “It’s okay to neglect me, but get you fucking shit together if you don’t want your other friends to burst your fucking masterplan,” you say through gritted teeth, before turning around and going up the stairs, not sparing Donghyuck another look.

In doing so, you fail to see the look on Donghyuck’s face, you fail to hear the front door closing behind him, and the engine of his car getting turned on.

You’re suffocated by the wave of emotions you feel, they’re making you drown in your own tears. Tears run down your cheeks before you can sense them even brimming in your eyes, and the sobs that follow are a raw reminder of the unhappiness you’ve felt in the last months of your life. But now you can add betrayal to the equation.

You must do something to get out of this situation, or you’re risking losing yourself for a man who doesn’t really lose sleep over how much hurt he’s causing you.

Donghyuck is not sure how he’s managed to reach Jaemin’s apartment complex safe and sound, but he stomps his way through the building like he owns it. He just might. He’ll buy the place tomorrow and he’ll kick Jaemin on the streets for the stunt he’s pulled on his wife later this evening.

The knocks on Jaemin’s door reverberate so loudly that even Donghyuck is kind of intimidated by the echo they make. 

The moment Jaemin opens the door, Donghyuck pushes through without caring about the force he uses to push at Jaemin’s chest in order to get him out of the way.

“What the fuck, man?” Jaemin asks in disbelief.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to ask you this, you moron,” Donghyuck snarls, pushing again at Jaemin chest, making him grit his teeth in annoyance knowing why his friend is paying him a visit. It must have something to do with the phone call he’s given his wife.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he warns, waiting for the shitstorm that drunk Donghyuck is willing to start.

“What the fuck were you thinking, calling Y/n?” Donghyuck raises his voice once again, “You call my wife for what reason, exactly?” His gaze throws daggers at Jaemin’s head, but the latter doesn’t back down. “What the fuck is wrong with you, snooping about my life like you have no other business? Are you trying to ruin it for me?” 

Jaemin can take a lot of things. Can take violence, palms of hands on his chest, punches to his face. He can take a nasty mouth like Donghyuck’s, and he can take the disrespect because he knows he’ll sort it out with his friend once he’s sober. But there are a few things Jaemin can’t take, like when someone's blaming him when he did nothing wrong, and when women are being disrespected. 

So he walks towards Donghyuck, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and throwing him into the wall, keeping him glued against the hard, cold surface. 

“Your wife was home alone, sad, and upset,” Jaemin makes a threatening pause between each word, pushing Donghyuck against the wall again and again each time, “So shut the fuck up before I push you through this wall. She didn’t even know where you were, you're drunk and you have fucking hickeys on your fucking neck. So, tell me now, who’s the one ruining it for you? Me or yourself?,” Jaemin lets Donghyuck go after one last push. But doesn’t spare him another look.

A week passes since the hickey incident and you don’t see Donghyuck. You assume he’s on some sort of vacation with someone else, and you don’t even care enough to look for him on the tracking app. You don’t want to make an obsession out of this, because you guess he’s with someone else, and actually seeing his contact on some exotic country’s map on the phone app would be your final straw. 

So you try to do your own thing by packing a small trolley and calling a cab to take you to the airport. You’re not sure about the destination, but you feel like you need to do this to get out of the slums of your heart.

You buy a ticket for the first flight you set your eyes on once you reach the ticket till, and you make your way through the passenger lounges towards the gates. You already feel refreshed, and you nearly vibrate with anticipation when you think about the days that are yet to come and the alone time you’ll have to yourself, but this time in a different city. Alone and away from your supposed husband. 

You reach one of the restaurants there, and you hate to admit to yourself that Donghyuck has engulfed every aspect of your life when you realise that you’re going to drink beer and eat steak at ten in the morning just because Donghyuck has always done this type of thing, “It’s the law of the jungle here, baby” he once joked when he almost got drunk off overpriced wine in one of the airport’s restaurants way before noon.

So you gulp the resurfacing feelings back to where they belong, the bottom of your being where you hope they’ll be forgotten and unreachable for a long time, and so you reach the bar, asking for steak and beer like you’d be asking for a coffee and muffin at the local cafeteria back home. Which again, you don’t need to be worried about because airports are like casinos, especially if you have a flight with a layover in the middle.

You chew your steak and you can’t help but think about how Donghyuck would love this, and there goes your appetite. The lump in your throat returns, and your stomach churns because of all the emotions you feel all at once. You think you need to go see a doctor, because your emotional state is already affecting your physical state as well. 

“Excuse me,” you feel someone patting you slightly on the shoulder, making you flinch just a bit at the unexpected contact, “Is this seat taken?” The stranger asks again in a very polite way, which makes you turn around to look at him. 

You’re met with a tall, lean figure standing a few feet behind you, his finger still pointing at the seat next to you. You suddenly remember his question and you jump in realisation, moving your luggage on your other side of the stool you’re sitting on, making some space for him to move and sit down. “By all means,” you look at him, gesturing towards the high stool at the bar, “Please take a seat,”

He gives you a smile in return making himself comfortable before picking up the menu to look over. He’s wearing a black wool sweater, his glasses are covered in water droplets that have gone dry by now, probably from the rain outside. His black hair falls slightly on his forehead, and he has to shake his head from time to time to prevent his fringe from getting into his eyes as he tries to look for something appealing in that whole menu.

You go back to chewing your steak, and even nearly cold it’s still delicious. You try not to think too much about the steak and who might like it, or otherwise you’ll not be able to swallow the bite.

“Is the steak good?” The man on your left asks, still holding the menu in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he giggles, realising that you didn’t expect anyone to talk to you, “It’s just that I’m not really sure what to order and I’m starving, and that steak looks really nice,” he smiles at you, but you probably look like an idiot while he was only trying to be friendly.

“You should get it,” you smile back, seeing how his features relax when he hears your answer, “It’s one of the best steaks I’ve ever eaten. The ones I make are excluded,” you laugh, cutting into your steak.

His ears seem to perk up at the mention of your cooking, now intrigued by you. He introduces himself, and you grab his hand, never breaking eye contact with him. His hand is warm and big, his long fingers wrap around your palm, squeezing slightly.

“So, where are you off to?” He asks after a while, curious to know a bit more about you.

“Chicago,” you answer, playing with your bracelets.

“What a coincidence,” he sips on the last drop of beer from his glass, “So am I".

Donghyuck doesn’t see you for a whole week. After the fight at Jaemin’s, he doesn’t come back home to you, but spends the night in his car instead. Not that he couldn’t afford going to some other place, but he was still drunk and the information Jaemin gave about you really did a number on him. Jaemin could punch him, break his head against any surface of his apartment and it still wouldn’t hurt as much as finding out that you’re aware of all his actions on the side of your marriage. 

And the fact that he has some fucking hickeys on his skin, and that you surely saw them, makes him want to jump off a cliff. The remorse is eating him from inside, and he’s sure he’s about to get a hole in his chest at the amount of stress he’s been through in the last week. 

But not seeing you for a week did Donghyuck some good. He had some time to himself to be really alone, in a hotel room just outside the city, and rethink his life choices and everything he’s done lately. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this amount of shame bubbling inside of him, never thought he’d be able to hurt you so much. He remembers your eyes from that night, when you shoved his shoulder, and it must have happened after you saw the marks on his skin. He feels like a fucking idiot, like he has shit for a brain and there’s no way he’s ever going to straighten things up with you, not after last week. And he honestly doesn’t know what was going on in his head in the past months after the wedding happened, and what made him do all of this, all of the suffering he’s brought you. 

After the wedding, after the first few months after the wedding, after grandma Lee passed, he thought that things were just going to go back to how they were before he even saw that damned testament. He could go around fucking whoever he wanted, as long as he came home each evening to be with you, have dinner together and then go to sleep. Nothing between the two of you had to change. The casual sleepovers at one of your apartments would become a recurrent sharing of the bed, but now as husband and wife even if the titles were just for show. The hugs, the embraces, the casual signs of affection that the two of you showed each other wouldn’t have to change. Except, he broke all his rules. Yes, he did go around fucking whoever he wanted, but he never got home on time. He stopped hanging out with you, stopped being there for you. And he can’t help but wonder what the fuck is wrong with him, because the amount of heartbreak he feels right now while acknowledging the pain he’s put you through is making him lose his mind. Maybe he realises this too late, but he thinks he’s done it out of fear. Fear of acknowledging his true feelings. Maybe he never thought you would ever agree to marrying him, but again, he was really hoping you would. He doesn’t understand what’s going on in his mind, but he’s sure of one thing, and that is he loves you. Scrap the “more than a sister but less than a romantic interest” bullshit he’s told himself time and time again, he’s sure he loves you in the pathetic Anna Scott and William Thacker way, the hopeless way, the romantic and desperate, yearning for your attention and just for you — kind of love.

Maybe spending one week away from you does him so good, because he decides to go back home, your shared home, to be a more present husband. He’ll work from home, he’ll do everything for you just as much as you did everything for him but he was too blind to see — or even more. He’ll take you out, he’ll take you on vacations you’ve always wanted to go on. He’ll pick up whatever couple activity you want, and even if it’s not an activity meant for couples he’d still go just for you.

He comes home after a week and a half of being away, and it’s early in the morning. He stops by the supermarket and buys all the ingredients he knows he needs to make your favourite breakfast, and buys freshly squeezed juice from the farmer’s till you love so much, by the entrance of the supermarket. He comes home, and it’s still early, and thank god you’re not down in the kitchen making something already. 

He puts some music on, but the volume isn’t too loud so as to not wake you up. He wants to surprise you with breakfast in bed. He remembers when the two of you used to eat cup ramen or whatever other thing you prepared, while sitting in bed at either one’s dormitory. He misses those times, but he realises that nothing has to change, everything can be like before, especially now that he’s gotten the cold shower of reality.

He hears the front door open and turns around confused, but before he can take a step and come towards the entry hall, you show up in the kitchen looking just as surprised as he does.

“What is going on?” Your eyes are the size of saucers, pointing at the spatula in his hand and the apron he’s wearing on top of his casual clothes. It doesn’t look like he’s slept home, otherwise he’d be in his pyjamas or suit and tie. But he’s in jeans and a fitting t-shirt. This time, your stomach doesn’t churn and your heart doesn’t drop.

“Were you not home? Sleeping?” He asks, pointing his thumb towards the staircase.

“No,” you answer but it comes out more as a question, “Were you not home? You should have noticed I haven’t been here for four days,” you retort, your tone not that friendly.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were avoiding me,” he lies. His heart drops knowing he wasn’t here to notice you were gone. “I just wanted to make you breakfast, your favourite,” he shows you the pan full of vegetables, scrambled eggs and grated cheese. You start salivating looking at the colours in the pan alone, knowing that it’s going to be delicious because Donghyuck is an excellent cook. “By the way, we have freshly squeezed orange juice in the fridge, your favourite type, no pulp,” he points his head towards the fridge.

“Jesus, we’re like the fucking Kennedys this morning,” you reply, walking towards the fridge to take the juice out. He laughs at your joke, and it’s like music to your ears. You haven’t heard this sound in a long time, and you have to think about something else as not to let your feelings resurface.

“We’re more like… Brangelina,” he jokes, and this time you’re the one laughing.

“So,” he says, sitting at the kitchen island across from where you’re sitting, so he can see you better. God, you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are sparkling and your cheeks are rosy. You’re wearing that coloured chapstick that tints your lips just the right amount, and it contours your features so perfectly his chest heaves with something close to euphoria. The euphoria of seeing you. “Where did you go these past days? Did you have fun?” He doesn’t want to know the details, because it’s a reminder of the past. The past that he doesn’t want to go back to. 

He’s a new man, a married man but he’ll take this seriously this time. A new chapter starts today.

Hearing his question, you stop mid chew. What are you supposed to tell him? Are you two sharing this kind of information now? “Yes,” you reply simply, nodding your head, “I had fun,” 

“That’s good, I’m glad” he smiles at you, and it is his most genuine smile. You know it.

“Listen, Y/n,” he starts, but swallows his words when he looks at you. He wanted to apologise, but he feels like it’s too soon and too sudden right now. He’ll do it when the perfect time comes.

“Actually, Hyuck, I’d like for you to listen first. I have something I want to tell you,” you sip on your orange juice, and Donghyuck stops mid chew, and you sense there’s something in his eyes. Fear?

“I’m thankful for you making breakfast this morning, I really am,” you smile at him, trying to bring him some reassurance, “But you don’t have to do this. You never make breakfast and you’re never around but, for some reason, you’re here now preparing my favourite meal for me. I don’t know why you’re doing this or what’s wrong,” you actually might have a faint idea, but you keep it to yourself, “But we can live separate lives. I’ll respect your choices, and we don’t have to interact with each other if that’s not what you really want,”

“What? No!” He interrupts you, frowning, “What are you talking about?”

“You keep avoiding me, you’re away all the time,” you start, but you can feel tears forming in your eyes. Damn it, that’s not how you wanted this to turn out, he doesn’t deserve any more of your tears. “So, I understand that your plan of getting your inheritance was successful, but we really don’t need to be around each other. I get it now, so I’m letting you know that I’ve moved some of my things out of our room, but not all just in case, you know, if our friends ever come by and they see us having completely separate rooms. It would look really bad for your plan,” you explain, drying your tears but smiling nonetheless. And the image breaks Donghyuck.

“You can go do your activities, by yourself, and I’ll do mine on my own” you continue, “but there’s one thing I want to ask of you. Please don’t bring anyone in our house. This is our house,” you make small pauses between requests, hoping he’ll understand what you’re implying. You’re willing to give up your happiness thinking of what could have been, for the peace of mind of coming to terms with what your life is actually like. It’s the only way you can still be with Donghyuck, and you have to make this compromise.

“What?” He snarls, a frown painted on his face.

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you need to get away from him or you’ll start crying in front of him, and that’s not what you want. So you stand to your feet, pushing the stool under the kitchen island. “You don’t have to worry about anything, okay?” You look at him, but your emotions get the better of you and your eyes are brimming with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the past few months, and he looks back at you like you just caught him committing some sort of crime, “I’ll go to my room now, I need to be alone” you point towards the staircase, “By the way, there’s some dry cleaning that needs to be picked up, can you go?” You ask, but he knows that it is not a question.

He gulps, seeing your back leaving the kitchen. “Sure,” but you’re already on your way to your room, and you don’t hear him.

The day goes by, and Donghyuck doesn’t see you around the house again. He respects your boundaries, so he doesn’t push to get you to listen to what he has to say right away, so he secludes himself in your — formerly — shared bedroom, trying to give you space just for today at least. 

The following day, he comes back home after picking the clothes held hostage for so long at the dry cleaner’s — and immediately notices the silence. The dead silence, only the clock ticking making a sound that’s too loud in Donghyuck’s ears and too heavy on his heart. He supposes you’re still locked in the guest room, hence the disgusting silence.

He’s used to finding you around the house either cooking, either singing using a broom as a mic stand as you clean around; either the loud sound of war documentaries, or you crying while watching a cheetah eating an antelope on Animal Planet, either you baby talking to the plants you were planting in some pots in the back garden. But now everything is dead, dead silent. 

He really wants to make this right. He rethinks about everything that happened in the past weeks, Jaemin knocking some sense into him, all the conclusions he’s come to, and the words you told him yesterday morning. 

First, he realised he wants to make this right. No more sleeping around, no more hiding from you, no more hurting you. It took him long enough to realise he wants to be in this marriage for real, and not just because he was promised millions of dollars if he got married, and he chose the easier way since you were the only woman who’s been around him for so long, — that he now realises he was in love with since his teenage years. It was like a cold shower taken on a scorching day, the type that makes your heart stop for one second and then back to pumping blood quickly with an uneven rhythm. 

Secondly, he promised himself, after many days of mulling thoughts in his head, that he’d be more attentive, and that he will try to make things right with you. He’d spend more time with you, as opposed to what he did until now — spending his days with women, too many to count, too many to even remember. And he’s filled with shame every time he remembers how he came home all dirtied up, their kissing marks left all over his body, his clothes stinking of their perfumes, and when he stepped through the front door you were there, waiting for him with dinner and wine, or patiently waiting for him to come home so you could spend some time together like you used to. But he was scared, and it took Jaemin’s shoving to make his brain start working. He’d never meant to hurt you, although he was trying to avoid you every day since that kiss between you two happened, because he thought it was weird. He proposed marriage to you, without any obligations, he never asked you to love him or be faithful to him, and you never asked him either. So why was it so weird? So complicated? He started avoiding you when he realised that maybe you were all he needed after all, and that thought was scary. He jumped head first into this marriage expecting the two of you to live your lives like you were used to doing, and now it seems that he might have done it because it felt right. And it had always been you, and only you. 

Going up the stairs two steps at a time, he quickly reaches the upper floor of your shared house, reaching the guest room’s door, where you’ve been sleeping since he screwed up — you made sure to let him know this just earlier.

“Y/n?” He calls your name gently, hoping for you to recognise the vulnerability in his voice. “Y/n, can we talk?” He pleads, knocking slightly on the wooden door.

 It creaks open, a puzzled Donghyuck opening it slowly as he looks a bit around the room, expecting you to be in bed or maybe doing some sort of activity you found solace in while avoiding his presence.

But you were nowhere to be found. He takes big steps towards the dressing room, noticing the lights are turned off, and then in a last attempt he tries to look for you on the room’s balcony. But you’re not there, and he’s sure there’s nowhere nearly as cozy and comfortable as this space for you to be hiding. And your shared bedroom is an excluded possibility, because that’s where he’ll be sleeping, and you didn’t want to see his face, it was for sure.

In a last, desperate attempt to find you, he moves quickly towards the bedroom, and he prays to god he’ll find you in there looking through your old clothes and trying them on like you always do every few months, calling him an idiot as soon as you see his face entering the room. But you’re not there either, and he can only sigh, sitting on the bed, thinking of what he can do to find you.

Would it be wise to call Renjun? He’s one of his best friends, but also yours? Renjun would take your side any second, and Donghyuck knows this. 

“Let’s not,” he mumbles, throwing the phone across the bed and throwing his back harshly on the hard mattress of your shared bed. He misses you. He missed feeling annoyed by your sleeping figure stretching all over him in search for heat. He misses your perfume, your scent hogging his senses as soon as his head hits your pillow. Your pillow, the one he kept close in his embrace every time you woke earlier than he did. He misses you so much, he needs to feel you randomly giving him a warm embrace.

He can remember the scent of your hair, the one sticking to your skin, and he gets up from the bed to go to your vanity desk to spray a little bit around the room, just so he can find a little bit of comfort before he thinks of where you could be.

He stops in his tracks, sensing there’s something odd going on. Looking around the room, he can’t pinpoint it, but he suddenly feels it in the pit of his stomach. 

He looks at your vanity desk, inspecting it from where he’s standing, and he looks for the bottle of your perfume that he loves. And then it hits him. It’s not there. Out of all the perfume bottles, the one you always wore — which he loves, — it’s nowhere to be seen. He jogs to the bathroom attached to your bedroom, hoping that you took it there when you were getting ready to leave, because you’ve done that before. Except, this time you didn’t place it in the bathroom. It’s as spotless as ever, as if no one has ever used it before. Your shower products are still lined nicely in the shower, your skincare products still inside the cabinets hanging on the walls. But not your toothbrush. His is sitting alone in the glass holders where they usually touch each other, as unhygienic as it sounds. 

He speeds out of the bathroom, back to your vanity, where he inspects the products laying around. Your preferred perfume is gone, a few make up products missing from the little drawer you had arranged them so nicely in. His eyes dart to the jewellery box sitting on the edge of the desk, and he picks its lid up, inspecting what’s inside. Your usual jewellery is looking right back at his stupid face, as if it was mocking him for freaking out, but he notices some of the expensive jewellery he’s gifted you ever since you two got married, are gone. A bracelet, a few rings, a necklace and a brooch are gone. And then his eyes still on two pieces of jewellery, his heart dropping to his stomach as soon as he recollects his bearings.

Your wedding band and your engagement ring sit mockingly in the corner of the box, as if you had thrown them in without even looking where they landed, without even making sure if they made it inside the box before you sealed it closed. 

The thought of you purposefully leaving your rings behind makes him want to hurl, his mind running desperate tireless laps as he tries to understand what’s going on.

And then it dawns on him. You left. 

He puts the box back down with gentle hands, and he feels like the ceiling might have collapsed on him with the amount of heaviness he feels in his chest and stomach. Did you really leave? He wants to make sure before he loses his mind, so he checks a few of your drawers and the dressing room adjacent to the bedroom. He can see a few garments missing from each section of the wardrobe, noticing how one of your suitcases is also gone. 

Not knowing what to do, he walks back to the bedroom, his hands frantically going through his hair and eyes closing tightly in an attempt to find a way to calm himself down. His eyes so forcefully shut that he starts seeing spots as soon as he opens them again. 

He reaches for his phone, trying to look for you through your shared location. “God fucking Dammit,” he exhales when he opens the app.

You went as far as turning your location services off on all your devices, which you’ve never done before, not since he taught you how to turn them on ten years ago.

He dials your number in a miserable attempt to get a hold of you, but it goes to voicemail almost immediately. “Please pick up,” He doesn’t want to give up, so he dials your number a few more times before he gives in and leaves a message on your voicemail.

“Y/n, it’s me, please pick up,” and after five minutes of hopeful waiting, that maybe you’ll reach out to him out of pity more than anything else, he tries again.

“Y/n, it’s me, Hyuck,” he can feel his voice full of uncertainty. He clears his throat, “Where are you? I came home earlier wanting to talk, but I can’t find you anywhere, please call me back,”

An hour of waiting for you to give him a small sign, he feels like he’s losing his mind going back and forth in this damned bedroom.

“Y/n, please come home. At least call me back, tell me you’re safe. Please, please Y/n, call me back” he whispers into the phone before it gets cut off.

Donghyuck feels a tight knot forming in his stomach, only the thought of you not being safe makes him despise himself. If anything happened to you while being away because of him, he would never be able to forgive himself for doing this to you.

Noticing how time flew by, he checks his phone once again, even if you sent him a dry text he’d be happy because he’d know you’re safe enough to check your phone. There aren’t many places Donghyuck knows you’d choose as a safe place trying to put some space between the two of you, but he thinks of one where you could be at right now, and he quickly runs down the stairs and snatches his car keys, so distressed that he forgets to grab his coat.

There’s only one place where you could be, and he needs to see for himself.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun opens the door slightly, but then fully opens it for his friend to step in. “Not only did you steal my best friend, the one who was supposed to marry me at thirty-five in case we didn’t find anyone to get married to, but you’re now attempting to steal my time too,” he rolls his eyes at the man standing in front of him. 

“Steal your future wife?” Donghyuck frowns for a few seconds, processing what Renjun said. “What if she was the one stealing your future husband? What, Renjun, wasn’t I good enough for you?” Donghyuck touches his chest where his heart is, tsk-ing his disapproval with fake annoyance.

“Your ways of causing me disgust are always unbelievable,” Renjun fake gags, crossing his arms.

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Donghyuck sends a flying kiss, and Renjun is glad that they’re not standing next to each other right now because the two of them are close enough for Renjun to know that his friend would attempt to kiss him on any spot of his face that he can reach.

Donghyuck quickly drops the banter, curiously looking around the room, trying to find any of your objects that you could have carelessly left behind when he dropped by. In his head, you’re here somewhere, hiding from him. He hopes you are, and even if you came out and kicked him out the door, he’d be grateful because that way he’d know you are in a place where you are safe and sound.

And Renjun can’t help but notice Donghyuck’s dishevelled look, the locks on his head messily pointing in different directions, and of course there was the fact that he isn’t wearing a coat. He observes the way his friend’s eyes dart back and forth between various surfaces of his living room, and the way Donghyuck’s hands reach behind his head in an unconscious motion.

“So,” Renjun begins, “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck half laughs.

“I’m not dumb. You’re my best friends and you’re married to each other. You haven’t pestered me with stupid memes in the past days, and I’ve only heard from Y/n a couple of times,” he sees his friend’s face lighten up at the mention of your name, “So what did you do?”

“Why do you assume I’m the one in the wrong here?” 

Renjun scoffs, his friend’s almost offended tone not being that well received.

“You always do shit to hurt Y/n, so excuse me for giving her the benefit of the doubt,”

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck asks again, this time sober.

Renjun sighs, “I had to waltz around the two of you for a very long time, I lived with the two of you before,” he frowns, moving his hand between himself and Donghyuck, “I had to witness times when you hurt her feelings, maybe unknowingly, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but you did nonetheless. I had to pick up pieces you stepped on carelessly, while she gave herself to you on a silver platter. No, pardon me, a golden platter. Your sleeping around, your mindless jokes about it, your little remarks that played with her heart every time you complimented her while making promises to her, and the way she believed you without any second thoughts as if you wouldn’t forget about her and the promises made to her an hour later.” Renjun inhales sharply, recognising how he’s getting worked up, but these are things he’s been dying to say to his friend, and now is the perfect time to do so. 

“Don’t act dumb, Hyuck, I was there and I saw it all happen right before my eyes. Every time you promised her the sun, you left her hanging in the air, looking for you yet you were unreachable, avoiding her. I had to mend the pieces you fucked with, every single time. That’s why I was afraid when she told us she’d be getting married to you so suddenly and out of nowhere. I was scared for her wellbeing,” Renjun gulps, crossing his arms once again.

“So, whatever you did this time, I don’t care. I won’t help you in any way. I want her to be well and happy, and if she’ll reach out to me, I’ll be there for her. But you need to get your shit sorted, before it’s too late. If it isn’t already,”

Donghyuck inhales sharply, trying to digest every piece of information he’s found out from Renjun, on which he’ll mull over later when his nerves might calm down.

“Okay,” he surrenders, “I am getting my shit together, Renjun. I have been for the past few days,”

“It’s not long enough. A few days of meditating on your shitty actions won’t erase your wrongdoings,”

“I know, and that’s why I’m working on it, I’m doing this for her,” he starts taking a few steps towards the door, when he turns back to face Renjun, “If she calls you, just tell her to call me, please. I want her to be safe,” the sad look in his eyes are a sight Renjun never thought he’d see, especially from Donghyuck.

“I’ll see you around,” and with that, he gently closes the front door behind himself.

A few days pass, and Donghyuck has made an obsession with checking if you turned your location on again. You haven’t reached out to him, and neither did Renjun. He hopes that his friend would be considerate enough to reach out to him if he ever found out anything about you, but he’s left hanging. 

He hasn’t been able to eat much, only a few bites so as not to get stomach aches from hunger. He already had stomach aches just thinking about not having a clue about your whereabouts, he didn’t want to end up on a hospital bed because he couldn’t take a fucking nibble. The bottles of liquor and alcohol the two of you had agreed on keeping on a neat bar shelf in the corner of your living room were almost empty. He’s never felt more distraught, and the liquor only helped numbing his thoughts for a short amount of time, for they all came back to his mind as soon as he woke up from his drunken naps. Donghyuck hasn’t been able to sleep much either, that’s mainly why he drained almost every bottle of hard liquor in the house. He doesn’t want to forget anything about you, but his brain is his biggest enemy these days, and the only thing that can help him out is the thought that maybe, after the alcohol numbs him real good and puts him to sleep, he’ll wake up to you standing in front of him, holding him tight and telling him you forgive him and you want things to work out. Because he can do this, he can do anything you’d ask him, he can make this work. He loves you.

He left you more voicemails and texts, and all went unanswered. By the time the alcohol’s effects wore off, his muscles were already starting to ache from the countless times he fell asleep on the big carpet downstairs, on which he chose to rest in hopes of hearing your keys opening the front door. He was like a sick puppy. Waiting for the owner of his heart to come back home, because he knows you’ll eventually come back. He hopes, at least.

He stands to his feet, taking the empty bottle outside and sitting it carefully inside the bin, as to not make too much noise. His head feels like it’s being split in half, and his muscles beg for a hot shower, which he gladly plans to take after popping two advils from the medicine cabinet in one of the bathrooms downstairs. 

After using his favourite scent out of all your shower gel bottles lined up in the shower, he wraps a towel around his waist, walking back to the bedroom to pick up his phone. Your location is still off, and he decides to leave another voicemail for you, because if there’s any possibility of you listening to these voicemails, he wants to be sure he made everything in his power to reach out to you and make you realise how serious he is about everything.

One hand on his hip, while his teeth nibble on his bottom lip, he dials your number, waiting for the call to go to voicemail. Except this time the call goes through, ringing in his ears.

“Hello?” A male voice answers, and Donghyuck has to take a quick look at the phone’s screen to make sure he didn’t dial someone else.

This is your number.

“Y/n?” He inquires, a deep frown forming on his smooth forehead.

“Oh, Y/n’s in the shower right now, can I take a message?”

Donghyuck feels his throat run dry, and sharply exhales in an attempt to calm himself before he can regret anything that might come out of his mouth. Not only is the thought of your leaving destroying him, but to hear another man answering your phone might be the last thing he does before he goes insane. 

Who the fuck is it? Who is this man? He can't help but ask himself.  Who is it? Is it a friend of mine? But he doesn’t recognise the voice.

“Hello?” The voice on the other line rings in his ears, “Are you still there?”

“And who are you?” Donghyuck rasps, his voice raw with anger.

“Erm,” Donghyuck can feel uncertainty in the man’s tone, “I’m Sungchan. Can I take a message for Y/n?”

The mention of your name out of his mouth makes Donghyuck see red before his eyes. 

“Yes, Sungchan,” Donghyuck spits out with anger, “Can you tell Y/n to call home as soon as possible? This is her husband, Donghyuck, by the way,” after which he hangs up, throwing the phone across the room, not even bothering to pick it up again.

You get out of the shower, stepping on the hotel’s slippers, feeling refreshed after getting rid of the sweat residues on your skin, when you feel a knock on the bathroom door. You open it wide, seeing a frowning Sungchan leaning on the doorframe, clearly bothered by something.

“Sungchan?” You ask, combing your fingers through your wet hair. “Is everything okay?” 

You see him giving you a conflicted look, and he bites on his lip. “Your husband called. Why didn’t you tell me that you’re married?” He asks you, and you think the sky falls suddenly. It would be easier if he wasn’t looking at you right now, but his gaze is piercing, cold, and hurt.

“What?” You ask, but not because you didn’t hear it the first time, but because you need time to think how to explain everything to him.

Yes, you omitted this detail when you hooked up with Sungchan the first time, but it’s not like he deliberately asked you, ‘are you married?’. You and him were on the same flight to Chicago. You liked the attention he gave you at the airport, and he offered to show you around if you didn’t already have an itinerary planned out. So you accepted, and between some museums, jazz bars, and nice restaurants, you found yourself in bed with him.

With him, you got rid of all the stress you accumulated in the past months, and for the first time in years you even felt loved and appreciated.

Apart from the shame and regret of not being genuine with Sungchan from the very beginning that’s eating at you, there’s also the way he’s looking at you right now. Betrayed, hurt, on the verge of tears. 

How did Donghyuck’s hurting lead you into hurting other people? You knew Sungchan likes you, because he explicitly told you so, so why did you have to pull the same card your husband played on you?

“Sungchan,” you start, but no words can make up for the damage already done, because he pushes away from the doorway, going back to look for his clothes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” his voice trembles, sliding the pair of jeans on his long legs. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” he’s mostly talking to himself, and you’re left in the corner of the room in your towel only, watching as he gathers his things from your hotel room. 

“Never look for me again,” he walks past you, towards the door, not looking at you even once, “Go back to your husband, Y/n,”

And of course, what other fucking choice do you have?

You push your trolley through the entrance hallway, leaving it at the foot of the staircase, making your way towards the living room. You enter the room, empty and messy, and you can see that Donghyuck has been spending more time at home now than he did before. His clothes are scattered on the couch, a sock is thrown carelessly behind one of the houseplants while the other is resting under the coffee table. He’s not here, but you can sense the smell of steak, and you can hear him humming something in the other room.

You enter the kitchen, that’s empty and messy, and then you hear Donghyuck’s voice ring a bit louder in your ears. You walk around the kitchen island, sliding the kitchen door open and you exit on the patio, scaring Donghyuck.

He’s grilling steak on the patio, dancing around with a huge grilling fork, getting scared when he heard the door slide shut behind you. 

“You’re home, baby,” he uses his saccharine voice, and you throw your phone on the wooden table next to the grill.

“Cut the crap,” you snarl, pulling a chair to sit, and you plop down while pointing at your phone, “I called you, you didn’t pick up,” you bite on your cheek, in a desperate attempt to keep your cool and not blow this fucking patio up.

“I didn’t pick up, nope” he makes a popping sound at the end, using a piece of cardboard to vent the meat on the grill.

“Then why all the voicemails pleading me to call you back? If you can’t fucking pick up?” You bark, but he doesn’t flinch at your tone.

“I didn’t pick up because I broke it,” he explains calmly before turning around to look at you, “I sort of got upset after a phone call. How’s your friend, by the way? Sungchan, was it?” He asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Do not fucking say his name,” you threaten, looking at him like you’re ready to jump him.

“Do not fucking look at me like that, Y/n” he threatens back, placing his hands on the wooden table. “I’m you fucking husband!” He raises his voice.

“And I’m your fucking wife!” You scream at him, while standing to your feet. Your nose is flaring with anger, and when your gaze meets his you feel the familiar suffocating lump in your throat. “In the last year, how many times did you consider yourself to be my husband?” You ask accusingly, pointing a finger in his direction. “How many times did you think you had a wife waiting for you at home, when you were with other women?” You cry out, biting on your lip in order to not let all the sobs run past your lips. “How many times, Donghyuck, did I turn a blind eye on your indiscretions? The times you came back home smelling like other women, marks on your skin, the amount of times you didn’t come home for long periods of time?”

“So you think you’re better than me if you just run away with another man?” He raises his voice at you once again, slamming a hand on the wooden table.

You’re honestly appalled at how he’s trying to turn this on you. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask calmly, your tears not flowing anymore. “You’re trying to blame me but you don’t see the root of the problem here. So it’s okay for you to do it for months, and then when I do it once it’s suddenly a problem?” You can’t look at him any more, feeling too upset to even spare him a glance. 

You notice the alcohol bottles sitting around the bin, and you suppose they’re there because the bin is already full.

“Are you drunk?” You ask in disbelief. You swear he seemed sober when he shouted at you just a few minutes ago.

“Do I look like I’m fucking drunk right now?” He asks exasperated. “Not now anyway, but I did drink waiting for your fucking call, Y/n” he points the grilling fork in your direction, as if he’s accusing you of something. “I waited, and I waited, and I waited for you call, but you just ignored me. You come home one day telling me that you don’t care who I’m with just for you to secretly leave to get with another man. What kind of pure and innocent role are you playing, Y/n? Telling me it’s alright just so you have your peace of mind while doing the same thing I do, because you thought you laid your cards on the table and allowing me to do it would exempt you from guilt?” He accuses you with an extremely calm tone. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Y/n, but what was I supposed to do? You left your fucking rings at home and took off!” He shouts again, and you realise you’ve never had a fight this intense with Donghyuck, with so much shouting. You don’t even think you’ve heard Donghyuck’s shout except for the one he lets out when he’s trying to be funny. Two completely different tones.

“So what? You kept your ring on when you were fucking around?” You bite back, and he doesn’t say anything else.

You decide there’s no way you want to continue the fight. At this point you’re not sure if whatever you and Donghyuck have is worth fighting for. You turn around, not even looking at him again, and go towards the staircase to go to your room. 

“Where are you going? Y/n?” He comes after you, calling your name and trying to grab you by the arm, “I made steak!”

“You can shove it up you ass!” You retort, getting out of his grasp, going up on the stairs and leaving him like a lost puppy.

You sit on the carpet at the foot of your bed, not even bothering to turn the lights on. You know you want to be alone right now, but you know that you’d rather be alone in this huge house instead of having Donghyuck downstairs.

You feel like the love you carry for Donghyuck is consuming you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. He can be the biggest idiot in this world and you would still love him. He can be the one to have a huge screaming match with and you’d still forgive him, and love him. Your pain is amplified when you recall the fight you two just had, because everything he said earlier is true. You told him to do whatever he wants because you knew you could go find solace in Sungchan's presence, you wouldn’t be alone anymore, and you could start doing whatever Donghyuck was doing without thinking twice. Just like he did. And what pains you the most is the fact that he made it sound like you were the one who cheated on him first.

And okay, you’re technically not together. But would it be so hard for him to acknowledge you once in a while? Would it be hard for him to stop thinking with his dick and just open his eyes to see that you’re right here, everything he would ask for, you’d give him on a golden platter. But again, maybe he doesn’t feel the same way towards you, and it’s better not to know this instead of having your feelings hurt to a point of no return. 

And Sungchan. That poor soul. You feel so sorry for treating him like this, and you feel even worst for making him feel the same way Donghyuck has made you feel up to this point. Sungchan left so abruptly that you didn’t have the chance to tell him the truth. Yes, your husband called, but guess what? He’s not really your husband. It sounds pathetic. You wish you could at lest have told him the truth, about the nature of the relationship between you and Donghyuck, but you guess you had it coming — because not once did you think about bringing your marriage, albeit fake, up to Sungchan, and you had more occasions than you can count on two hands.

You feel conflicted. You feel like the best thing for you would be getting away from Donghyuck as soon as possible. He brings out the worst side of you. The jealous, possessive side, that really has no business existing. Because it’s a fake one, this marriage shouldn’t make you feel like a miserable fool. It shouldn’t affect you the way it does, you’ve only known sadness and jealousy in the past months and it’s really not fair, not when Donghyuck doesn’t care about you and your marriage as much as you do. But at the same time, even if you think it’s best to get away, you just can’t. You’re so used to being with Donghyuck that he has become a part of you, and walking away from him would feel like walking around with just one leg instead of two.

You’re sobbing into your own hands, feeling like the world just collapsed, and you don’t sense Donghyuck coming up the stairs towards your room.

“Y/n, I want to talk,” he opens the door just slightly, waiting for you to say something, but he doesn’t hear an answer, “Can we talk?” 

“Go away,” You scoff, raising your head from your hands, bringing your knees to your chest. You notice him stepping carefully inside the room, the light on the hallway brightening your room just a little. He’s carrying your suitcase, the one you left at the foot of the staircase, and he puts it behind the door, before he comes next to you and decides to sit down.

He’s so close you can smell him, even if your nose is stuffy from all the crying. His arm is touching yours, and he brings one of his legs up to imitate your position. You don’t look him in the eye, but your tears keep streaming down your face uncontrollably, and you bite your lip trying not to let the sobs escape you.

He extends one hand, touching the arm closest to him, squeezing slightly.

“Lets talk about this,” he shushes you as soon as you try to reply back, and pats your head with careful gestures, “Come here,” he instructs, and your body responds immediately, like you wouldn’t even need a brain, just Donghyuck to tell you what to do and give out commands for you to follow.

Your face falls in the crook of his neck, and the moment you face touches his skin your tears are unstoppable. He continues to shush you, to tell you to let it all out, to tell you that everything’s okay.

And while you’re in his arms, and he holds you like this, showing you that he does indeed care about you, maybe you believe his words — that everything will be okay, just this once.

“Y/n, I know you can’t talk right now, so I will do the talking, okay?” He asks, but when he doesn’t get a reply back he promptly squeezes your arms to get an answer out of you. Between all the sobs and tears damping his skin and t-shirt, you give him a thumbs up — a sign that he should go on and talk, and it makes him laugh. The beautiful crystalline laugh you love so much.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you, and I know I’ve said this a lot lately but I will keep saying this a lot in the future too. I’m also sorry for talking to you the way I did earlier, raising my voice and pointing my finger when I’m not really the one who should be speaking,” he continues to caress your back while you’re all crouched into his side, your head still glued to the side of his neck. But he doesn’t mind the dampness, he doesn’t mind the sobbing you’re letting out right next to his ear. He doesn’t mind keeping you this close.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess, and then making you feel like I don’t appreciate you or like I don’t care about you. Because I do, Y/n. You’d be surprised if you could hear the things my mind is coming up with when I think about you.” He kisses the top of your head, and you feel his breath fanning over your forehead and cheeks for a little while.

“I’m sorry for ruining whatever you had with Sungchan, and I’m sorry to tell you that this last part is a lie. I’m lying Y/n, because knowing you could be happy far and away from me is making me go insane little by little. I’m an idiot for saying this when I’m the one in the wrong here,” he pauses, and you can hear him gulping.

“I need to be completely honest with you, I think I owe you this, and then if you want to walk away you can. You’re free to do whatever you want, you have your share of the money and it’s up to you whatever you decide to do,” you listen to him, holding your breath for a bit while waiting for him to go on, but your tears stopped flowing.

“The day I made breakfast for you, do you remember that?” You nod, stretching an arm across his stomach to get in a more comfortable position — and you really just wanted to hug him, “I was going to have a talk with you. The previous days, when I basically went missing, I reflected on a lot of things and I was ready to ask you if we could try to do this marriage thing for real this time, but you didn’t even let me speak,” he giggles, and once you register all his words your breath is caught in your throat.

“And then you went missing and I was so worried about you, Y/n. Never do that to me again,” he warns you, and you squeeze him tighter out of instinct. “You can do whatever you want Y/n, I mean it. You can forget I said anything about being for real in this marriage, you can decline all my apologies but I’ll forever feel sorry for putting you through this,”

You push yourself up from his body to finally look at him, and he looks at you with big sparkly eyes, touching his chest with his left hand, and you can see his ringed finger shining in the dim lights filtering through from the hallway. You love him, that’s a confirmed fact. Especially now after you got to hear everything he had to say.

“So how are you going to fix this?” You whisper, not really knowing how you should approach this whole situation.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks, his face getting a bit closer to your figure. He gets so close to you that you can smell his cologne perfectly once again. 

“I do, but” you whisper, and you can sense he’s holding his breath, “did you mean it, what you said about doing this,” you point between the two of you, “doing it for real?”

“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation, “I meant everything I said,”

“So let me ask again,” you get closer to his face, smirking as you can feel his breath fanning over your face once again, but this time you look him in the eye, “how are you going to fix this?” 

“I have a few ways,” he smirks at you, taking the bait you’ve just thrown him.

Everything happens really fast. You don’t have time to register the moment he seals his lips over yours, kissing you fervently as he gently grasps the side of your neck to bring you closer. You snicker as you feel his lips eagerly moving on top of yours, and your poor attempt at trying to gasp for air is swallowed by his relentless warm lips. 

He breaks the kiss, giving you both a chance to breathe, and he stands to his feet, dragging you with him. His lips capture yours once again, but this time he doesn’t lose any more time, his tongue sliding carefully on your bottom lip, asking for your permission. You grant it almost immediately, and he moans into the kiss as soon as his tongue waltzes with yours, his plump lips sucking on your tongue before releasing it with a pop sound, and going back to nibble on your bottom lip.

He lets your lips go once again, grabbing a strand of your hair to play with.

“I’ve wanted to be like this for a long time,” he mumbles, looking at the strand he’s holding between his fingers, “Will you let me take care of you, Y/n?” He rasps, and the look you give him is enough for him to understand your answer. “Lay down for me,” he instructs, pushing you slightly until the back of your knees touch the mattress, and you follow his orders.

He sets himself on top of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist out of instinct. His hands reach for your waistline, roaming carefully towards your hips, where he stops to squeeze tenderly. He leans forward once again, but this time he catches your lips in a sweet, short kiss, repeating the action a few times before moving his juicy lips to your jaw, nibbling on your neck as he moves his ministrations further and further down. 

You stifle a moan when his hot mouth reaches the neckline of your top that’s barely covering your breasts now that you’re laying down. Once again, Donghyuck puts his tongue to work, making the wet muscle trace the neckline, leaving wet smears across your hot skin.

His hands reach for the hem of your top, raising it higher on your torso up to your bust. His cold fingertips massage the delicate and silky skin up from your lower abdomen all the way to the underside of your breasts, where the underband of your bra is sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

“Let’s take this off, baby,” he commands, pulling on the fabric that’s covering your bra.

You comply to his orders, getting rid of the top as efficiently as possible, and you hear Donghyuck sucking his teeth, his head hanging low once again to be on the same level as your chest. He continues his actions, tracing his tongue around the cups of your bra, returning to the middle of your chest, where he presses his wet lips on the delicate spot between your tits, proceeding to lick a stripe all the way to your neck and jaw. He captures your lips in a smooth kiss, moving greedily trying to savour every little sound and breathy moans you let out. Your hands reach for his head, your fingers comb through his hair, fingertips massaging his scalp, and he can’t help but moan into your touch. The sound gets swallowed by your mouth moving confidently over his, sucking on his tongue, taking everything he’s willing to give you.

He breaks the kiss, holding a mischievous look in his gaze, instructing you to get rid of your bra and jeans while he gets up on his knees to get rid of his t-shirt. With his tanned, toned arms and abdomen on display, you reach out to get a chance to touch and trace his soft skin, but he slaps your hands away and leans forward towards your stomach, on which he places short, open mouth kisses all the way to the band of your panties. 

He kneels at the foot of the bed, dragging you by your hips towards himself, and holds your legs together before leaning in onto your clothed core. The action has you moaning, and he keeps moving his nose against the crotch of the underwear in repeated motions, his nose bumping against your clit every single time, and it sends a tingling sensation throughout your body, pleasure bubbling fast in your lower stomach.

“Hyuck,” you moan his name, not thinking you can resist his actions much longer.

He smiles hearing you moaning his name, but decides to halt his actions nonetheless. He grabs your panties and pulls them down, the cold air in the room making contact with your wet folds. He folds your wet underwear carelessly and shoves them in the front pocket of his sweats, leaning forward for his mouth to start moving slowly on your core. His plump lips suck on your clit gently, twirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. Your pussy clenches around nothing, his relentless actions building the pressure in your muscles, and you’re approaching your release fast, your hip buck into his mouth, chasing the delicious pleasure you’re about to be rewarded with soon. 

Donghyuck can feel his dick hard and throbbing in his boxers, but he doesn’t touch himself — he'd rather wait to be touched by you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he moans with his mouth still glued to your core, his tongue licking long stripes along your entrance and clit, stopping to show extra care to the latter. And the pet name on his lips is everything you needed in order to cum. 

His dick throbs hearing the sounds you make while you cum, his name on your lips feels like a mantra, like a chant full of praise, music to his ears.

“You’re insane,” you breathe out, grabbing him by the hair to detach him from your core when he doesn’t seem to have any faint intention of stopping his laps on your clit.

“You haven’t even seen half of it yet,” he grins and smirks, his chin glistens with a mix of your arousal and release. He licks his lips, deciding to cut you some slack until you come down from your high.

You look at him, and you lick your lips seeing his grey sweats hanging low on his tanned hips, a wet patch placed in the front on his crotch, indicating his arousal.

You pull him closer to you, latching your lips with his, sucking and pulling on his bottom lip, tasting yourself off his lips as his mouth moves rhythmically against yours.

You push him slightly off you, instructing him to get on the bed. You look at his figure again. What a great day to be wearing sweats, you think. 

“Get these off for me,” you say, but it sounds more like a question. He giggles, but complies without having to be asked twice. He gets his boxers off of the way at the same time with his sweats, his dick falling heavy on his abdomen. You take a look at his cock, licking your lips unconsciously as you stare at the veins stretching along his length, precum leaking from his rosy tip. You reach for it, your palm aching to stroke him before you get a taste of him. But Donghyuck has other plans.

“Want you on my cock,” he grunts, bucking his hips up in your hand as soon as it wraps around his shaft, “Think you can ride me, baby?” He asks, and you’re more than eager to do it if it means seeing him so dishevelled underneath you, and you’re the cause. 

You nod, and he extends one hand to help you keep your balance as you bring your weight on top of his lap, waiting for him to line his shaft with your entrance. His tip enters you and you have to stop for a bit to adjust to the girth. You sink lower on top of his shaft, your pussy throbbing around it, and Donghyuck has to suck a breath through his teeth and pray to god you won’t take long to get used to his size. You’re so tight, Donghyuck is too excited to last for too long, he knows this already.

You start riding him, your juices are enough for his shaft to slide in and out of you with ease, and one of his hands reaches up to your chest to grab one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting it and putting the right amount of pressure that gets a whimper out of you. 

His mouth latches to your other nipple, sucking on it, his tongue swirls around the teat bringing a new wave of pleasure that has you arching your back and temporarily halting your rhythmic movements on top of Donghyuck’s shaft. Moaning, he sucks harsher on your nipple when he feels you stopping, so you resume your movements even if you can feel your thighs burning. A new wave of pleasure runs through your body  when you hear his moans against the frail skin of your chest, one of his hands placed on the small of your back trying to guide your movements as he can sense you’re tired. 

“Feels so fucking good,” he moans, looking up at you. You’re looking at him briefly, then you push him slightly to get him to lay down. You bring a pretty manicured hand up to his chest, steadying yourself as you keep your relentless and delicious moving of your hips against his. You mewl out a moan as your clit hits the base of his cock, and your head falls back making your hair bounce around yourself.

His body feels on fire, his heartbeat picking up its rhythm. “I think —” you hear him start, but is interrupted by one of your raw moans. “I love you,” he blurts out, and hearing those words coming out of his mouth makes the tension in your tummy burst, and the rhythm of your hips starts faltering. He grabs your arms with force and brings your upper body on top of his, your chests clashing on top of each other’s as he searches for your lips. 

He needs them like he needs air, especially after the words that slipped past his lips. He pulls you closer, one hand grabbing your waist to keep you in place as his hips start bucking up inside of you, and another hand keeping your head in the crook of his neck as you still ride your orgasm. He chases his own climax, and the relentless throbbing of your pussy around his shaft as you ride your orgasm helps him burst deep inside of you, moaning out your name as he holds your body tightly.

You stay in his embrace a little longer, until the clarity starts hitting you, replaying the last moments in your mind. You fall next to Donghyuck, your head still resting on his shoulder, a leg still stretched on his stomach as you both try regaining your bearings.

You raise your head to look at him, only to find him already looking down at you. 

“Did you really say you loved me?” You enquire, believing that’s a figment of your imagination.

“I did,” he whispers back, unmoving while keeping you close to him, his eyes big and sparkly.

“But isn’t it —“ you make a pause, trying to find the right words, “too soon? How do I know that you really mean it?”

“How do you know?” He repeats slowly, and then averts his gaze to look around the room for a few seconds. He sits up, getting off the bed, coming to your side of the bed so he can face you properly. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, looking at him quizzically, trying to understand what goes on in that mind of his. 

“Shut up, I’m about to do the most pathetic and embarrassing thing just for you,” he pouts at you, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of bed, “I need you to stand in front of me otherwise it won’t be embarrassing enough,”

“Seriously Hyuck, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You sigh, and you look at your naked silhouettes standing in front of each other like a pair of sims in the making.

“I have my flaws, and you know the already. I did a lot of shitty stuff to you, and I apologised for all. But you also have to remember…” he leaves the sentence up in the air for a bit, “That I’m also just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him,” he finishes his monologue, waiting for your reaction.

At first, you're speechless. Then the moment sinks in, and you can’t help but let a surprised laugh escape you as you reach for him. 

You grab his face, bringing him closer to you to give him a quick peck on the lips. 

“I love you too,” you let him know, but there’s a glint in your eyes that lets him know you’re never going to let him live this moment down, and he braces himself for impact, “But please never pull an Anna Scott on me, ever again!”

author's note: i loved writing this, i am emotionally attached to this story now T-T i love hyuck and i hope reading this was worth your time. feedback and engagement is always recommended and highly appreciated! thank you guys for signing up for the taglist and reading this piece <3 and you might have already guessed, but sungchan's instalment is related to the female oc (reader) in this, but more will come out with his teaser. if you have questions about this fic, my ask box is always open!

TAGLIST: @jeongjaehyunnn @hyucksaint @tilthedayimbored @dinonuguaegi @bren00na @txthyuck @yesohhsehun @yewshi @injunnie-lemon @theandypark @secretofthesunrise @yuqiilvr @haechology @bunnychui @rihaee @imamagician127 @xbmbea @smwhrinthehaze @gloomy-lass @kxrlx-vxldxz @tblack2002 @n0hyuck @sskguss @mingi-dazed @423ktz @joyzluvr @carelessshootanonymous @idkwhatursayinh @m1ng1swife @multifandomania @myst_verse @ppeachyttae @luvlyrenwoo @haesluvr @vmpzoro @sleepyvic @got-sum-badhabits @myfavoritedelusion @joyidonuts @silverdragon

©️ kongjjen 2024. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

[taeeflwrr]

who would've thought i'd get you?

Hot & Cold

PAIRING — Lee Donghyuck x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Donghyuck and Y/N, Y/N and Donghyuck. Whatever the order was, everyone knew it wasn’t the same without the other; everyone knew that you two would end up together, one way or another. Only, no one ever told Donghyuck that it would take this long. It took an unnecessary long time for him to get where he wanted you to be, but it was worth all the years if it meant he’d get you in the end. After all, he wouldn’t spend all of his time and effort to plan on confessing with an old pink Nintendo DS Lite and a Pokémon Pearl cartridge.

GENRE — one-shot, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, comedy (crack treated seriously), mild angst, “opposites attract” kinda trope, non-linear narrative, slice of life (kind of)

WARNING(S) — implied sexual content (MINORS DNI 👹), but nothing too explicit, swearing, crude language and humor, talks of losing the v card, talks of sex, alcohol mention, alcohol consumption, general dumbassery between friends lol

WORD COUNT — 36K

Keep reading

[taeeflwrr]

youngblood | lee donghyuck

pairing: haechan x reader

words: 9.1k

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: language, juvenile crimes (do NOT try shoplifting, speeding and vandalism, kids)

a/n: okay omg i finally got around to editing this and you guys should know by now this au doesn’t mean he’s bad and just………annoying……….. (also it follows troublemaker’s style but like…………it might just be my fav troublemaker part aaaa)

The first day you meet Lee Donghyuck, he picks a fight with you. Or you pick a fight with him.

That’s not how the first day of high school should have gone.

It surprised you, just a little, to be toe-to-toe with someone so easily. Did he like picking fights for fun? You looked him up and down, the ink over his forearm meant to be shown and a strange friendliness in his eyes. Not exactly the bully type, you weren’t sure what to make of him. Movies spoil reality when it comes to things like this. Rumors are even worse. You took a slow gulp anyway, Donghyuck’s eyes on you unnerving.

He leaned in slightly to match your height. His tone was lilting and he phrased his words light-heartedly, a pretence you found funny. “I have no interest in you, kid. I’m going to keep it that way.”

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[taeeflwrr]

10/10 loved this emotional rollercoaster

My Words, Your Thoughts

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU | 36k

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most.

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[taeeflwrr]

really loved the plot of this one

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Nanami Kento glory hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint

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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.

Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.

Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.

"About industry average, I think."

A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."

You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.

"Great pension plan, though."

"I somehow doubt that."

You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.

"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."

Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.

"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."

He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.

"Well, I can help with that."

Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.

The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.

"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"

A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.

"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"

Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.

You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.

"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.

"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"

You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.

"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."

When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.

"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."

You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.

"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."

"God, you really do need thi--"

Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.

"O-oh-- wow--"

Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.

His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.

"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."

"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"

A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."

You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.

"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.

"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited. Having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.

You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.

"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."

You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.

"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."

"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"

You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.

"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"

A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."

You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."

Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.

Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"

Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"

"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"

You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.

Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.

"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"

"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."

You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.

You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.

"...you don't...don't have to--"

"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."

You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;

"Scarier monsters than them in the world."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.

"...hey, you. I missed you last night."

He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.

"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"

"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."

"I'd talk to you for free."

A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.

"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"

Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.

"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."

A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."

You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.

"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."

"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."

You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.

"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."

He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"

"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."

A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.

"Alright...if you insist."

When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.

"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."

Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.

When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.

He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.

"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."

He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.

Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.

"And I'd do that for free, too."

It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling nearby before walking away from you.

You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.

You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.

"Are you lonely, in there?"

You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.

"Not anymore."

There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.

"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."

You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"

"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.

"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."

Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...

"I...I've never done...that."

"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"

"Okay."

You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.

"Yes? You...are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."

"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."

You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.

"This one is mine."

You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.

"Alright, here...here I come."

Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.

You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.

"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."

You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.

A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.

"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"Do you trust me?"

"One hundred percent."

A pleased rumble. "Good girl."

Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.

By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.

"Does that feel good?"

"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.

This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.

He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Though outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.

You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.

"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"

At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."

His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.

Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.

"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."

Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.

Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.

"Come for me, my love."

As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.

"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"

"--don't you dare."

The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.

Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.

"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."

He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.

"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"

When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.

Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.

And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.

Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.

"Say...say my name..."

"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"

"Kento--"

"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"

The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.

"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."

Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.

"...Kento, huh?"

He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"

"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"

He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.

"I won't let you pay me for that--"

"--I absolutely fucking am--"

"--no you are not--"

After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.

"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"

You blinked, confused.

"Just...just the one. Right at the end."

Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.

Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I worried you wouldn't be here."

You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.

"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"

You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.

Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.

You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"

Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.

"Kento, you...see it too?"

"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"

You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.

"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."

"Kento, I can't just walk out--"

"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."

When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.

The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--

"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"

A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.

"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."

Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.

"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"

[taeeflwrr]

😼😼😼

i ❤️ hot nerds (l.dh, n.jm)

PAIRING. pervert!nerd!haechan, pervert!nerd!jaemin x popular!fem!reader  GENRE. smut, slight fluff CONTENTS. explicit smut (kissing, fingering, oral (receiving), titfucking, breast play, lots of drool and spit, overstimulation, snowballing, dirty talk, rimming, anal play, missionary, riding, mating press, breeding/creampies) WORD COUNT. 8.7k SUMMARY. when your professor pairs you with the two smartest students in your class for a group project, you find yourself making an interesting deal with them. or, alternatively: the one where you have to help two nerds learn to get girls so you can pass your class. PLAYLIST. n/a NOTES. remember when i said i was up to something with these two? this is it! teehee :3 i hope you enjoy!!

“Professor Kwon, I really need to pass this class,” you say with a worried frown, and she nods in understanding, reaching over to pat your hand gently.

“I’ll see if I can scrape up any extra credit assignments for you to do, but in the meantime, you can try and do your best on the group project coming up. It’s worth thirty percent of your grade, and if you want, I can pair you up with some of the stronger students in the class to help ensure you get a good grade.” she offers helpfully, and your face lights up with a relieved smile as you nod.

“I would love that,” you gush gratefully. “Thank you so much, Professor Kwon! I really appreciate all your help.” You can tell from her kind expression that she knows your words are sincere, and it warms your heart that she’s been so helpful and generous.

“No worries, dear. I’ll email you tonight with some extra credit assignments for you, okay?” she says, and you nod in agreement as you pack up your bags to leave her office hours.

“I’ll be waiting! Thank you again, and have a great rest of your day!” You chirp, slinging your bag over your shoulder before exiting her office.

As you head down the hall, you think about who, in your thirty-person class, she could possibly pair you up with that could help your grade.

“Okay, class, I’m going to pair you up with your partners for the group project. Just a reminder—it is worth thirty percent of your grade, so please take this seriously. I would hate to have to fail any of you.” Professor Kwon says as she looks out at the classroom. 

Indistinct mutterings go around, and you look around as you contemplate who she might put you with. There’s Mark Lee, the sweet, endearingly bubbly English major in the year below you who’s also an RA for the building across from your dorm.

There’s Huang Renjun, the smart, quiet art major junior in the same year as Mark, and he could be a good partner, you suppose—

You’re dragged out of your reverie by the sound of your professor saying your name, followed by, “Lee Haechan, and Na Jaemin.”

Oh. Well, you’re certainly not upset by that development. You look across the room, where Jaemin and Haechan are sitting together, to see that they’re already looking over at you. Haechan smiles nervously and averts his gaze quickly, but Jaemin leans into the eye contact, giving you a small wave. 

You smile and wiggle your fingers back in greeting, making Jaemin grin and Haechan dissolve into excited giggles, the older male pushing his thick, black-rimmed glasses up on his nose absentmindedly.

Your professor finishes reading off the groups and waves her hands at you all, gesturing for you to get situated with your partners. You move to stand only to see that Haechan is rushing to stand up and make his way over to you, clutching his notebook and papers to his chest almost protectively.

Haechan and Jaemin are also the year below you, and you know them relatively well, given that you’re the RA for their dorm building—well, you know a bit about them: they live across the hall from you, they’re avid gamers, and, if you’re not mistaken, they’re two of the top students in the class.

You watch with an amused smile as Jaemin leisurely slings his bag over his shoulder, the cool, calm, and collected counterpart to your other partner, and they both make their way over to where you sit, Haechan sitting in the chair in front of you and turning it around to face you while Jaemin sits beside you.

“Hi,” Haechan greets quietly, and you shoot him a friendly smile.

“Hi, Haechan,” you reply sweetly, and his face breaks out into a brilliant, shy grin. 

“Hi.” he says again, and Jaemin snorts.

“You said that already.”

“Well, I’m saying it again.” Haechan counters, and you chuckle.

“Hi,” you say, “again.”

“...Hi.” he mumbles shyly, barely able to get the words out past his excited smile.

“Hi, Jaemin,” you greet, turning to look at the male beside you.

He shoots you a dazzling smile that makes you wonder, for a moment, how he even got the label of “nerd” everyone classifies him as. Haechan is a bit more understandable, given his general flustered nature around girls, but Jaemin’s always been calm and easygoing—you’d even go so far as to say he’s smooth. However, you suppose that after hearing Jaemin rant and rave about video games and the like, you can see why someone might label him as one even if you don’t find video games all that nerdy. 

“Hi,” he replies easily, lifting his eyebrows in greeting. It’s your turn to avert your gaze, the mildly suggestive gesture making you feel a little hot under the collar when you couple it with the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“So, um,” you say, clearing your throat slightly, “I think we should meet up after classes today to talk about what we’re gonna do for our group project.”

“Okay,” Haechan agrees instantly, nodding vigorously. “We can meet up in the library? Or the cafeteria—or—well, maybe you’d wanna meet up somewhere private—” he starts to ramble, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, holding up a finger to stop him. He falls silent immediately, widened, slightly starstruck eyes gazing at you so intently you find yourself growing more endeared to him.

“Why would it matter if it’s in private or not?” you ask, brows furrowed, and Haechan nibbles at his bottom lip, exchanging a wordless glance with Jaemin. “Haechan?”

“In case you… y’know… don’t necessarily want to be seen with us.” he mumbles quietly, and you frown deeply. 

“Why would I not want to be seen with you?” you ask, already feeling like you know the answer.

“Because—” Haechan looks around the room to see if anyone’s paying attention to him before continuing, “because we’re nerds,” he says, whispering the word like it’s a slur, “and you’re—well, you know who you are.”

“How about you tell me who I am?” you press gently with a playful smile. “Just to refresh my memory.”

“You’re you. You’re one of the cool seniors—you’re one of the only RAs that everyone likes—and you’re…. y’know… popular.” Haechan whispers that word both like it’s a dream and a word that doesn’t belong in his mouth, and you won’t lie and say it doesn’t bother you slightly.

“Haechan.”

“Mm?” Haechan replies, and you drum your manicured nails on the table in front of you to stop his gaze from wandering furtively around the room. 

“First of all, this isn’t a stereotypical clique-y high school movie.” you chuckle. “I can be seen with anyone I want; it never mattered to me.”

“Okay,” he replies hesitantly, but you can sense some of the tension leaving his body as he gradually relaxes.

“Second of all: don’t call yourselves nerds like that—like it’s a label that actually matters. You’re just Haechan, and he’s just Jaemin, and I’m just me.” you finish carefully, and he cracks a smile, looking up from where your hands rest on the table to meet your gaze.

“Okay, cool.” he mumbles, smile growing as your words sink in.

“We can meet on the quad after class if you want,” you say, deliberately choosing the most public location you can think of.

“Well—” Jaemin cuts in, and you turn to look at him to see that he’s looking between you and Haechan. “There are no outlets on the quad… it’s just grass and some trees.”

“True,” you muse thoughtfully. “Where do you guys want to meet?”

“The dorm? Oh, but—” Haechan cuts himself off, shooting a panicked glance Jaemin’s way. “I don’t think my side of the room is presentable right now.”

“Okay,” you say with a laugh. “How about we meet in my room?” you offer, and Haechan’s eyes get so wide you fear he might hurt himself, while Jaemin’s brows shoot up in surprise. Looking between the two of them with growing amusement, you add on, “My last class ends at 4:30pm, and I can be back at my dorm by about 4:45pm, if that works for you guys.”

Neither of them speak for a moment, Haechan seemingly rooted in place with surprise, while Jaemin looks at him expectantly, eyes widening pointedly before he sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that works for us.” Jaemin answers finally, and you smile, nodding in confirmation.

“Great!”

“Class is over, everyone! Good luck on your projects, and I’ll see you next Wednesday!” Professor Kwon bids you all goodbye, and everyone starts to gather their things. 

“Well, I’ll see you guys then; you know where my room is!” you say, putting your notebook in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

“See you later!” Jaemin replies easily, and Haechan nods as if to second Jaemin’s words.

“Bye, Haechan,” you say with a playful smile, finding it cute how flustered the male is by your attention.

“Bye,” he croaks weakly, and you giggle, turning to leave but not before catching a glimpse of Jaemin swatting Haechan’s arm in a scolding gesture.

“Would you relax? At least try to play it cool,” Jaemin whispers loudly from behind your retreating back.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it!” Haechan exclaims in a hushed voice. “She’s so pretty.”

You can’t help but smile widely to yourself as you keep walking, pretending you haven’t heard a thing.

They’re perfectly on time—in fact, if your ears don’t deceive you, they’re five minutes early, the two of them standing outside and bickering quietly.

“Listen,” Jaemin says in a stern whisper, “you’re going to act normal when we get in there. No being weird and quiet and awkward.”

“Yes, sir,” Haechan replies sarcastically, and you snicker quietly. “You try staying calm when she looks at you with those eyes.”

“I do,” Jaemin replies flatly. “If you can’t… skill issue, I guess.”

“Wh— skill issue? I bet I’m skilled at putting my foot up your ass—”

“Shut up, she might be able to hear you!”

“Why don’t you knock, then? We can meet early.”

“Why don’t I knock?” Jaemin replies incredulously. “Why don’t you?”

“Why would I knock?”

“Why would I?! You’re the one all eager to see her.”

“I’m not that eager.” Haechan mumbles bitterly, and Jaemin scoffs.

“You showered to see her.”

“So did you!”

“I always shower after classes. You also put on cologne.”

“Well— Is it a crime to want to smell good in front of a pretty girl?”

“No, but it is a crime to act like a wuss when she so much as looks at you,” Jaemin snarks, and Haechan sucks his teeth.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

There’s a brief scuffle on the other side, and you hear faint slapping sounds like they’re smacking each other back and forth, and you giggle softly, walking over to your door and waiting patiently. 

“Would you cut it out? Here–” Jaemin snaps, and three knocks sound out on the other side of your door. 

“Shit! Do I look okay?” Haechan worries.

There's silence before Jaemin replies. “No.”

“Fuck you.”

You decide to end their bickering and open your door, smiling at the two of them. “Hi, boys.”

“Hi,” Haechan mumbles shyly, and Jaemin elbows him, glaring at him.

“Hi,” Jaemin greets pleasantly, and you step aside to let them in.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” you offer, and they enter slowly, Haechan moving cautiously like you might change your mind at any moment. “I have snacks, water, and juice if you want anything to eat or drink.” 

“Oh, dope,” Haechan says eagerly, heading to your mini fridge and opening it, retrieving a blue Gatorade and plopping down on your fluffy pink rug. Jaemin takes a bag of chips from the basket on top of the fridge and sits beside Haechan so there’s room for you to sit across from them. 

You take a can of pineapple juice and frown down at the metal tab. “Can one of you open this? I don’t want to break a nail.”

“I’ll do it!” Haechan exclaims, leaning forward and taking it from you. He opens it with ease and hands it back to you, blushing when you smile gratefully and slip a straw into the opening.

“Thank you, Haechan,” you hum, and he smiles bashfully, nodding.

“You’re welcome.”

“So,” you say, sitting on your bed in front of them as you sip your drink. “What should we do our project on?”

“We were thinking we could do it on something cool, like…” Haechan says, trailing off towards the end and looking over at Jaemin with a clear request for help in his eyes.

Jaemin rolls his eyes slightly, sighs, and says, “Sex.”

You can’t help but smile slightly. “Sex is cool?”

“Well— well, I guess it’s not cool,” Haechan mumbles, unsure of himself, and you cross your leg over the other, watching as his eyes drop to the hem of your skirt, a latent hunger in them as he eyes your bare legs. “But something, like, trendy and relatable.”

“So sex is trendy?” You can’t refrain from teasing him slightly, admiring the way his cheeks flush. “It’s the cool, hip, new thing all the kids are getting into, huh?”

“Well—” Haechan stammers, and you hold up a hand to stop him, the male falling silent instantly and watching you intently.

“I’m just messing with you,” you assure him, and his shoulders slump in relief. “I’m okay with that! I just wanna be super transparent and let you guys know that my passing this class is riding on this grade for this project, so it’s really important to me. I’ll do my best to pull my weight, but I’m not doing as well as you guys, so—”

“We’ll do all the work,” Jaemin offers, and you stop short, blinking at him in surprise. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Haechan chimes in, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. “You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“...Why?” you ask carefully, and they look at each other, now both a bit shifty. “Guys?”

“Hm?” Haechan asks, and you raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t meet your gaze, clearing your throat and waiting until he does.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Well… we were thinking we could trade services.” Jaemin interjects when it becomes evident that Haechan won’t be answering your question.

“Services?” you question, sitting forward slightly. Shifting your position, you cross your legs at the ankle instead, your knees falling apart slightly, and Haechan’s eyes zero in on the space between your legs, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he watches you. “Your service is helping me get an A, and my service is… what, exactly?”

“Um… we were thinking you could help us socially.” Jaemin says carefully, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“How?”

“Teach us how to get girls!” Haechan blurts out.     

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, looking between the two of them. “You’ll make sure we get an A on this project, and in return, I have to… help you get girls?”

“Teach us how to get girls,” Haechan stresses. “Don’t just help us get one girl.”

“What’s that quote? Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, but teach him how to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” you recall proudly, and Jaemin nods, pleasantly surprised.

“Exactly,” Haechan confirms. “I’m trying to eat for a lifetime.”

“Noted,” you giggle, and you shrug before nodding. “I don’t see why not.”

Haechan pumps his fist and whispers some sort of victory affirmation that you don’t catch but Jaemin stands up, walking over to your bed, and extends his hand in offering, making you blink at it in confusion.

“Shake on it?” he says slowly, and your mouth makes a little “o” of realization as you nod in understanding, now reaching out to shake his hand. His lips curl into an unnerving yet attractive smile as he grips your hand and pulls you a little closer to whisper, “I can’t wait for our first lesson.”

Something about his intent, unwavering gaze and the way his fingers drag against your palm as you retract your hand—the longing of it all, the lingering touch like he doesn’t want to let go—has your mind reeling in that dizzying feeling from earlier, and you wonder for a minute just what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

It’s been about a week of meeting up with Haechan and Jaemin every day to work on your project, and you’ve been giving tips and tricks on how to get girls every day, both boys studiously and dutifully hanging onto your every word.

“I have a question,” Haechan states about twenty minutes into your study session, and you look at him expectantly. “When do we get to the makeover portion?”

You make a small hum of confusion. “Makeover?”

“Yeah, where you style our hair and our wardrobe and get us contacts and stuff.” Haechan says eagerly, and you chuckle.

“Your wardrobes are completely fine, my only advice for your hair is to style it off your forehead more often, and I happen to like your glasses.” you reply, and Haechan sighs in mild impatience, waving his hand dismissively.

“You don’t get it—we need to be fuckable!” Haechan stresses, and you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Haechan, you’re already fuckable.” you explain calmly, and he opens his mouth in preparation for some witty remark, but after processing your words, his eyes widen and his mouth hangs open uselessly, his accusingly pointed finger now pointing meekly at the floor at an angle. 

“I—So—so you would fuck us?” he stammers, and you nod slowly, looking from him to Jaemin.

“Why do you think I let you get away with your numerous dorm violations?” you snort in amusement, and he blinks hard.

“I thought you just took pity on us, y’know? Like you had a soft spot for nerds or something.”

“I don’t have a soft spot for nerds.” you answer. “I have a soft spot for hot nerds, though.”

His mouth opens and closes pathetically as his normally quick-witted brain scrambles to process the information you’ve just presented to him. Jaemin is quicker to act, sitting forward so suddenly the move could be considered as predatory, and you’re not sure if it’s the lighting reflecting off of his glasses or what, but there is most definitely a glint in his eye as he regards you, his lips gradually stretching into a toothy grin.

“So you let us get away with stuff? Because you like us? Like what?” he questions, and you tilt your head to the side as you think. 

“Your candles, for starters. Haechan’s tapestry, your many many noise complaints from your neighbors when you two get too heated as you’re gaming,” you start to list off on your fingers, and you cross one leg over the other, not missing the way both of their eyes shift to your newly exposed skin and how… hungry they look. “The way you—” you point at Haechan, “always try to get away with looking up my skirt.”

Haechan’s face flushes a pretty shade of red, and you smile, amused, as he scrambles to defend himself. Before he can, you hold up a hand to silence him. 

“Haechan?”

“Yes?” he replies meekly.

“If I minded, I would have said something by now. I certainly wouldn’t have kept wearing skirts and accidentally flashing you.” 

His eyes roll back into his head with a whimper and he nods in understanding. 

“And you—” you round on Jaemin, who’s still perched like a lion about to pounce, and the male just smiles wider, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“What about me?”

“You probably think you’re slick with the little lingering touches on my back and waist when you’re ‘trying to get by,’ but I only let you do that because I like it.”

His grin widens more than you even thought possible, the glint in his eye now unmistakable. “Oh, yeah? Where else do you like being touched?”

“I mean,” you hum, uncrossing your thighs and smiling as both of their gazes hone in on the space between your legs, “I could tell you, but I think you’d rather have me show you.”

“I have a better idea,” Jaemin murmurs, moving towards you slowly. “How about you let us find out?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, relishing the way they look at each other with equally worried expressions as they silently pray you won’t back out, before you shrug nonchalantly. “Okay.”

No sooner than the last syllable’s left your mouth do they spring into action; Haechan clambers onto the bed beside you and Jaemin lunges forward to settle himself between your legs. Large, warm hands glide up your inner thighs, pushing them apart as he hikes your skirt up to reveal your light blue boyshorts. He moans loudly at the sight, immediately running his thumbs over your clothed mound, eyes flicking up to your face when your breath hitches softly. 

“Princess likes being touched here, huh?” he marvels quietly, leaning in with a slow lick of his lips. “How about kissed, hm? Do you like being kissed here, too?”

“Yeah,” you exhale with a smile, and he grins, wetting his lips once more before leaning in closer and pressing his wet lips to your core, bottom lip barely grazing your concealed clit. As he does, he takes a deep, loud inhale followed by a lust-filled groan that has heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Jesus, Jaemin—”

“Not now.” His reply is distracted, but blunt and domineering all the same, and you find yourself falling silent in surprise. When he pulls back, there’s a wet spot on the fabric where his mouth used to be, and the cool air hits it, making you hiss quietly.

“As hot as these look on you, I want them off.” Jaemin mutters, hooking his fingers into your underwear and tugging it down and off your legs. “Wanna taste it.” he mumbles—you think it’s towards himself—before he’s burying his face between your legs with another loud moan that makes you curse under your breath, overwhelmed with desire.

His tongue lies flat against your folds, languidly and deliciously dragging upwards to circle around your clit. He grunts in delight and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, hooking his arms around your thighs and pushing forward again, the bridge of his nose pressed against your mound. 

You gasp and clutch at the nearest thing in your grasp, which just so happens to be Haechan’s thigh. “Fuck,” you whisper loudly, and Jaemin chuckles.

“Stop neglecting Haechan,” he scolds playfully through a mouthful of your pussy. “This was his idea, you know.”

You manage to redirect your attention to Haechan, whose eyes dart around as he watches you and Jaemin with a wild look in his eyes, the male seemingly frozen on the spot. 

Your nose nudges at Haechan’s, the male tilting his head towards you and parting his lips in a soft sigh as your lips meet. It takes a moment for him to reciprocate, almost long enough for you to pull back, but he finally starts to kiss you back with a whimper caught in the back of his throat. 

“Haechan, touch me,” you urge, gripping his wrist and bringing his hand to your waist. He clutches your waist, but there’s a hesitance to it that leaves you wanting more.

“Yeah, Haechan, touch her.” Jaemin chuckles before massaging your clit with his tongue. Your eyes roll back into your head with a groan and he rewards your reaction by pressing the wet muscle against you more insistently. “Maybe he needs some incentive.”

“Incentive?” you hum curiously, and he nods, that wicked glint returning to his eyes.

“Take your shirt off.” he presses, and you oblige without hesitation, discarding the shirt behind you on the bed and looking at Haechan expectantly, finding yourself endeared by the way he nibbles his bottom lip nervously. “Haechan, doesn’t she look so good like that?”

“Amazing,” Haechan breathes reverently, and you smile at the praise, eyes closing in bliss. 

“Kiss her.” Jaemin suggests, and Haechan does just that, tentatively approaching you and gently connecting his lips with yours. As your mouths move together, you can’t help but notice the same reservation in Haechan’s movements, drawing a plaintive whimper from your lips. “Stop kissing her like you’re scared, Haechan,” Jaemin scolds. “She likes it. Don’t you, princess?”

“Yes,” you reply instantly, reaching up to cup Haechan’s cheek. He shudders at the contact, eyes fluttering shut before reopening with a darkened intensity that clues you in to the fact that Haechan seems to be done holding back.

Sure enough, Haechan clutches your chin and pulls you closer to him, tongue boldly slipping between your lips and exploring the wet warmth of your mouth. His thumb pries your lips apart with a forcefulness that delights you, and he hovers above your open mouth, eyes scanning yours before letting a string of saliva drip down from his lips onto your waiting tongue.

You whine when the spit connects with your tongue and he grunts, “Don’t swallow,” before kissing you again, tongue swirling confidently around yours even as a mix of your saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest. He’s quick to act, leaning down and dragging his tongue up the trail of spit before connecting your lips again in a more heated, desperate kiss that slowly takes your breath away. It’s wet, and hot, and messy and sloppy and everything you could have wanted from him and more as he leans in, pressing into you and leaning you back onto your mattress. 

Jaemin seems to be done assisting Haechan, as he returns to eating you out with a renewed fervor and, as Haechan kisses down your body to your breasts, it dawns on you that they might be competing for your attention. 

With every swirl of Haechan’s tongue around your nipple, Jaemin echoes the action around your clit, their synchronization sending you spiraling into a frenzy. When Jaemin flicks your clit back and forth with his tongue before taking it into his mouth to suck, Haechan does the same to your breast, lapping at your nipple eagerly before sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Fuck—” you hiss, realizing—perhaps a moment too late—that you may have bitten off more than you can chew as you let the two sexually frustrated males have their way with your body.

Before long, you feel that tightening sensation in your stomach as your climax approaches, and you whimper in lieu of a verbal warning, Jaemin picking up on your cue instantly and diving back into your core with an eagerness that both startles and delights you. With another well-timed suck at your clit, you’re climaxing with a cry of pleasure and a full body tremor as you curl in on yourself. 

Before you’ve even recovered from your high, Jaemin’s pressing on your stomach to keep you in place as he resumes lapping at your core, his tongue gliding with ease against and between your slick folds. 

“Fuck—Jaemin, it’s sensitive—” you moan, squirming away from his touch, but he ignores you, two fingers prodding at your entrance before slowly easing their way in. “Oh, shit—”

“That’s it, just take it, princess,” Jaemin coos, swirling sinful circles around your clit as his fingers move in and out of you slowly. “Feel so good around my fingers like that, angel.”

“Can I—” Haechan swallows thickly before continuing, “Can I fuck your tits?” Before you can answer, he adds, “Please?” fully laden with desperation and you can’t even fathom saying no to him—so you don’t, instead nodding and watching his face light up with excitement.

He rushes to pull off his pants as if you’ll change your mind at any moment, and when he pulls his boxers down, his fully erect length springs up, girthy and long with an upwards curve. You watch with fascination as he straddles just below your chest, laying his length between your breasts and pushing them together with a groan. 

With his eyes locked on your breasts and where his length disappears between them, he starts to move, slowly fucking himself on your breasts. His gasps and whimpers are both adorable and arousing, his fingers greedily clutching the mounds of flesh as his thumbs swipe over your nipples rhythmically. 

Apparently dissatisfied with the sensation, Haechan pauses, smearing his precum over your chest and pauses thoughtfully before leaning forward and letting several large droplets of saliva drip down from his tongue to your breasts, the clear liquid landing on either side of his cock and slowly sliding down the insides of your breasts to coat his length. “That’s more like it,” he grunts, and resumes fucking your cleavage, his eyes rolling back into his head at the sensations, his length gliding between your breasts with ease. 

Meanwhile, Jaemin curls his fingers inside of you, fucking them into you quickly and mercilessly as you cry out in pleasure. His tongue keeps swirling around and flicking at your clit, massaging your little bundle of nerves as his fingertips fuck into your other patch of nerves along your inner walls that has you seeing fireworks.

“God, that feels so good,” you whimper out, and Jaemin nods vigorously, tongue messily gliding along your folds with every movement of his head. 

“Mm, I know, princess—tastes so good, too.” he purrs, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to peek past Haechan at Jaemin, noting fondly that his glasses have almost completely fogged up. 

Haechan shoves his glasses up his nose hurriedly with one hand, mumbling something about wanting to see better, before he speeds up, small moans leaving him as he approaches his high.

Jaemin digs his tongue into your core, greedy muscle slurping up your arousal as it gushes from your hole, and you moan loudly, walls clenching desperately around the intrusion. His fingers slide up and down your slit, parting your folds, and he uses the combination of your slick and his spit to lube up his fingers for when he presses them to your asshole. He chuckles darkly when you squeal and squirm, fingers pushing into your tight rim without pause. 

“You can take it, right, princess?” he coos, and you nod, panting, even though you’re not sure he can see you. “That’s it, pretty, just like that. So fun to play with,” he murmurs, the last part almost sounding like it’s to himself as he moves his fingers inside of you, tongue gliding up and down to swirl around your clit and your entrance teasingly.

“So good,” Haechan moans, still using your breasts to stroke his length. “Wanna cum—fuck, you’re so hot—gonna cum, pretty—where d’you want it?”

You find that you can barely form thoughts, let alone words, so, in lieu of a verbal response, you open your mouth, tongue dropping out slowly, and he moans again, this one higher and audibly overwhelmed before he thrusts his cock faster between your breasts, the tip of his length occasionally rubbing against your tongue. With a low groan, Haechan cums, abdomen tensing as he pants his way through his climax. He releases onto your waiting tongue, one spurt of cum landing on your cheek and bottom lip. 

He admires the sight of you with his release painting your face and swipes up the stray seed with his finger, pushing it into your mouth and groaning when your lips wrap around it and suck it clean.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs reverently, shuffling down your body to kiss you sloppily, tongue swirling around the inside of your mouth to taste himself. 

Looking behind himself, Haechan takes one look at Jaemin’s fingers diving in and out of your core, slick arousal and Jaemin’s saliva dripping from your entrance, and groans, rushing to get off of the bed and shove Jaemin out of place none too gently to take his place between your legs and study your glistening core, eyes roving over how your entrance is still clenching reflexively around nothing and how your clit twitches with every clench, both overstimulated and in search of something more.

You’re barely done with coming down from your last high when Haechan moans loudly, at his limit, and buries his face between your legs, tongue delving into your folds as you squirm and whimper.

“Haechan, holy shit—” you gasp, squirming away from him, but he just winds his wiry arms around your thighs and tugs you back to the edge of the bed, roughly massaging your clit with his tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, slow down—”

“Tastes so good,” Haechan moans, gaze flicking up to look at you. His hair is all messed up from the numerous times your legs closed around his head and his glasses are fogged up with the heat radiating from your body and his heavy panting, but you can clearly see a wild look in his eyes, his gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of you in front of him. “Don’t wanna stop—don’t make me stop—please—”

“Haechan, baby, please take it easy,” you pant, but Haechan pays you absolutely no mind, his thick tongue slithering into your entrance and drawing out a sharp whine from you as you struggle to sit up, trying the whole while to swat his head away so you can catch your breath.

Your hand barely clutches at a lock of Haechan’s hair before Jaemin’s pulling your hands behind your back and settling you against his chest, his incredibly strong and firm grip leaving you stuck in place as Haechan has his way with your pussy.

“Let him have his fun,” Jaemin purrs in your ear as Haechan laps at your entrance before stuffing his tongue back in as far as it’ll go. “Can’t tell you how long he’s been waiting for this moment.”

“But—” you whimper, walls clenching helplessly around Haechan’s greedy tongue. 

“Doesn’t that feel so good, princess?” Jaemin coos fondly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You turn your head slightly to look at him with pleading eyes in the hopes he’ll have mercy, but he just chuckles, moving both your wrists to one of his hands before cupping your chin with the other and tilting your face back to his to connect your lips in a slow, passionate, deeply overwhelming kiss. 

You can taste your arousal on his tongue as well as a hint of the gum he was chewing earlier, and you keen weakly into the kiss, sloppily moving your mouth with his as Haechan slurps your arousal eagerly before he sucks your clit into his mouth, presses it between his lips, and moans loudly, the vibrations mixed with all of the lewd noises making you hurtle towards yet another high.

“Oh, shit—” you cry out against Jaemin’s lips as Haechan tongue-fucks you to another orgasm, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he claws at you in a desperate attempt to keep you against his mouth. Jaemin’s hand leaves your chin and moves to grope your breast, his large hand kneading and massaging the flesh and tugging at your nipple as he dots slow, wet kisses down your neck and shoulder. 

“Could stay down here forever,” Haechan grunts, and your eyes widen even in their exhausted, drained state as you start to struggle against Jaemin’s grip and fight to close your legs.

“Please leave my poor clit alone,” you plead, finally wrenching one of your hands free from Jaemin’s clutches and clapping it over your core protectively. Haechan barely even pauses, just starts licking at your fingers with desperate little moans and grunts. “Can one of you please just fuck me?”

They both go stiff, looking at each other wordlessly, before Jaemin releases you completely and switches spots with Haechan, maneuvering his length out of his sweats and boxers, and oh—

“You’re big, too,” you mumble in surprise, and he arches an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Did you think it was going to be small?” 

“Well, no, but I definitely didn’t think it’d be that big.” you mutter, and he snickers, lifting your hips to push you further back on the bed. He spreads your legs wider and looks at your core, eyes roving over your glistening folds and inner thighs with such unadulterated desire that you’re tempted to close your legs out of embarrassment.

“Haechan got you nice and wet for me, yeah?” he murmurs, pumping his fist up and down his cock slowly before slapping the underside of his length on your poor, hypersensitive clit and grinning when you jolt from the stimulation. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”

“Only one way to find out,” you reply breathlessly, and he laughs, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right about that,” he grunts as he pushes into you. Both of you react instantly; his jaw clenches while yours drops, and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose as a breathy half-whimper, half-sigh escapes you. 

Haechan watches you two with rapt attention, eyes flicking from your face to your breasts to where Jaemin’s length is slowly disappearing into you.

“Sweet pussy’s sucking me right in, princess,” Jaemin drawls with a smug grin. “Wanted this that badly, huh?”

“Shut—up—” you gasp as he bottoms out, the absolutely full-to-the-brim sensation dizzying and overwhelming and delicious all at once.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaemin obliges, brows knitting together as he pulls out slowly and thrusts back in with a quick snap of his hips. You cry out in pleasure and the corner of his mouth quirks upward in smug satisfaction and amusement before he does it again… and again… and again until he’s built up a steady rhythm, every thrust punctuated by a plaintive moan from you.

His hands glide over everywhere he can reach before seeking purchase in your hips, fingertips digging into the flesh there as he drives his length into you.

“You love this, don’t you?” Jaemin coos as Haechan presses your breasts together and wraps his lips around one nipple, sucking as he tugs at the other bud. “You gonna tell your friends how good we fucked you?”

“Mm—yes,” you pant, and Jaemin grins. 

“Gonna tell ‘em that two little nerds from your Biology class fucked you stupid, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, nodding vigorously. “Mm-hmm—”

“Thought so,” he replies with a dark chuckle before draping one of your legs over his shoulder, angling his hips toward it, and fucking intently into a spot that, you realize after the burst of pleasure from his first thrust, must be your g-spot. 

“Ho–ly shit,” you gasp, clutching at Haechan for something you can use to brace yourself. Jaemin’s thrusts send him into you nice and deep and you’re slowly but surely losing your mind with every stroke, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he fucks into you. Your fingers catch Haechan’s thigh once more, clutching onto the warm flesh in an attempt to ground yourself.

Haechan groans and responds by swirling his tongue around your nipple slowly before flicking it back and forth quickly, using a finger to replicate his actions on your other breast.

“Please—fuck—I’m gonna cum—” you warn Jaemin, and he nods eagerly, letting a hand drag across your body from your hip to your clit, thumb sliding between your messy, wet folds to reveal the sensitive button between them. You inhale sharply when he starts to rub it in circles with the same thumb, fingertips resting lightly on your stomach as if he’s not driving you absolutely insane. “Oh, my God—cumming—I’m cumming—!”

“Me too, princess,” he groans, his hips speeding up as he chases after his own high. You climax first, letting out a drawn out whine, with Jaemin following shortly after, the male burying his length in you and pumping you full of his cum as he groans in pleasure under his breath.

“My turn,” Haechan grunts as Jaemin pulls out of you, both males watching as milky white cum drips from your entrance. “That’s so fucking hot,” Haechan mumbles in awe before reaching for your hands to gently guide you to a sitting position. “Can you ride me, pretty?”

“If my legs don’t give out,” you mumble, and he chuckles, sitting against where your bed meets the wall and patting his lap invitingly. You carefully straddle his lap, fingers wrapping around the thick head of his length as you guide his tip to your entrance and start to ease down onto him. Haechan gapes up at you, prompting you to coo affectionately. “Do you mind if I do it myself?” you ask sweetly as you sink down on it further, your nipple grazing his lips as you move against him, and he shakes his head emphatically, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly. “Good,” you praise softly. “You’re not going to cum early, are you?” you ask with a small frown, and Haechan shakes his head again, the glasses sliding further and further down his nose. You gently push the glasses up, and he smiles appreciatively, tongue darting out to lick at your nipple while it’s near his mouth.

“Feels amazing,” he moans, and you smile fondly. You didn’t get a chance to see his length in all its glory, but you can definitely feel every thick inch of his cock as it stretches you open. He’s not quite as long as Jaemin, but he makes up for it in girth, his length barely fitting in your fist as you finish settling down on him.

When you’ve finally managed to fit all of his girthy length inside of you, you lift up slightly, rocking your hips forward for more friction, and Haechan moans out loudly, leaning forward to suck your nipple into his mouth. He cups your breasts, holding them up and together, and alternates running his tongue over both buds, occasionally sucking on a nipple with a low moan of satisfaction.

“More,” Haechan gasps out.

“More?” you ask, confused and lightheaded from all the pleasure you’re receiving.

“Yeah—need you to move faster,” he grunts through gritted teeth, and you suck your teeth.

“You wanted me on top when I told you my legs might give out—” you start to protest, and he pulls your face to his, kissing you to shut you up.

“Need it like this,” Haechan growls under his breath, swiftly maneuvering you two around so you’re lying on your back and he’s on his knees on the bed between your legs. “Hold these for me?” he asks, pressing your knees as close to your chest as they’ll go. As you tentatively hug your legs to your chest, Haechan spreads your folds apart with two fingers, sucking in a loud breath at the sight before he spits directly on your core, a gasp escaping you at the sensation of the warm saliva dripping down your folds.

He rests the underside of his cock on your clit, slowly rocking his hips forward to drag his thick length against your clit, and chuckles when you keen with pleasure.

“You’re so nasty,” Haechan sighs the words like you’re his dream come true, and based on the way his face contorts when he pushes into you, you just might be. He wastes no time, drilling into you at a quick, ruthless pace that has you moaning mindlessly with literally no idea what’s coming out of your mouth. “So fucking nasty for letting me do this to you,” he grunts, brows furrowed as one hand cups your chin. “Open.” 

You oblige, tongue lolling out without being asked, and he grins, leaning over you and letting more saliva drip from his mouth to your waiting tongue. Haechan dips down lower, maintaining his thrusts as he messily moves his lips against yours, his tongue and spit getting everywhere, and he whines desperately into the kiss, his hand moving from your chin to between your legs where he starts to toy with your poor clit.

A choked wail of overstimulation slips from you before you can even process it, and Haechan silences you by kissing you again, mumbling, “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you—perfect little fuckdoll—gonna fuck you so full of cum, gonna breed you—”

“Holy shit—breed me, yes, breed me—” you pant, nodding eagerly, and you might be imagining it, but Haechan’s thrusts seem to get impossibly deeper like he genuinely might take you up on that offer.

“Gonna breed you, pretty girl—stuff you full of my cum—give you a fucking baby—make you all mine—”

“Want it—Haechan, please—yours, I’m yours—” you can barely keep up with his heated dialogue, your eyes rolling back into your head in ecstasy as you fall apart on his length.

Haechan’s lips seal over yours, tasting your desperate cries as he fucks you foolish, making a weak, overwhelmed moan come from you and your body produce a deep, full-body shudder that travels as pleasure races through you, electrifying your bloodstream. 

Haechan isn't far behind, his tongue playing with yours almost lazily as his thrusts slow to a stop before he buries himself in you, emptying his seed into you and filling you with an impossibly large load of cum. He groans against your lips, slowly pulling out to the tip and staring down at how his length is coated with a blend of all of your cum with a deep-seated satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” he pants, flopping onto his back. “That was incredible.”

“You’re telling me,” you laugh. “Where did you two learn all that?”

“We watch a lot of porn.” Jaemin says, sheepish for the first time.

“And it taught you all of that?” you remark, incredulous.

“It taught us more, too,” Haechan adds, leaning over you with a grin. “Wanna see?”

“So, you’re telling me those two nerds from your class dicked you down… and they did it well?” Jimin remarks over your lunch in the cafeteria, eyes wide, and you scowl at her.

“Their names are Haechan and Jaemin.” you correct her, and she chuckles sheepishly. “But yes, they may have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Well, who would’ve thought…” Jimin comments, her expression thoughtful, and you snap loudly to get her attention. “What?”

“Those two are mine now. You can’t have them.” you state, and she frowns.

“Both of them? Aren’t you greedy?”

You shrug. “Don’t care. Mine.”

“What if they find out you’re actively laying a claim to them? Hm? Aren’t you supposed to be helping them get girls?” Jimin points out, and you frown slightly before pulling your phone out and scrolling through your messages before pressing the “Dial” button. “Who are you calling?”

“Shh.” you say distractedly, placing the call on speakerphone and waiting patiently as it rings once, twice, then stops, the other person on the line picking up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Haechan greets, sounding slightly concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you assure him. “Is Jaemin with you?”

“Yeah, he’s right here—did you wanna talk to him?” he asks.

“Both of you, actually. Can he hear me?”

“Hi, princess,” Jaemin calls through the phone, and Jimin’s brows lift in surprise.

“Princess?” she mouths at you, and you smile, nodding.

“Hi, Jaemin. I just wanted to ask you guys a question.”

“Shoot,” Haechan says with audible wariness in his voice.

“You’re both… mine, right?” you say carefully, and Haechan sucks in a sharp breath before you hear a thudding noise. “Haechan?”

“I’m here!” he squawks, sounding slightly far away. There’s a rustling noise, and then his voice comes in clearer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “What happened?”

“He dropped the phone because he’s an idiot.” Jaemin calls out, and you laugh as Haechan shushes him forcefully. 

“An answer to my question would be nice, you know.” you tease lightly.

“I’m yours if you want me to be,” Jaemin replies smoothly, and you smile even though they can’t see you.

“Honestly, I’m yours even if you don’t.” Haechan adds, and your smile only widens as you shoot Jimin an “I told you so” glance.

“That’s good to hear.” you reply, your smile creeping into your voice, and Haechan clears his throat pointedly. ��What’s wrong?”

“Well, are you ours?” Haechan asks hopefully, and you look over at Jimin as you reply.

“Absolutely.” 

“Oh, thank God.” he mumbles, and you giggle.

“So, I’m guessing you two are done with your lessons on how to get girls?” you suppose, nibbling your bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” Haechan confirms, and you’re surprised by just how relieved you are. “We got the only girl that matters.”

“You’re too cute.” you chuckle. “Wanna come over later?”

“Yes—” Haechan blurts out before composing himself to say, “yes, absolutely.”

“Good. Six sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” he sighs happily. “See you then, pretty.”

“Bye, baby,” you coo into the phone, and his excited squeal is quiet but unmistakable. “Bye, other baby.”

“Bye, princess. See you at six.” Jaemin calls out, and you smile widely before hanging up and smiling proudly at Jimin.

“My boys didn’t disappoint me.” you remark, pleased, and Jimin huffs petulantly.

“Man. I’m happy for you, but I wish I had two cute nerds at my beck and call.”

“Stop calling them nerds,” you correct, and she rolls her eyes.

“Wish I had two cute guys at my beck and call.” she amends her statement, and you smile, satisfied.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, huh?” you muse, and Jimin sighs, a smile curling at her lips.

“Yeah… would you ever wanna share?” she asks with a wiggle of her brows. “Ow! There was no need to flick me.”

“There was every need. Avert your eyes from my men, you lustful wench.”

“Lustful wench? You’re horrible. And greedy! And selfish. Just horrible and greedy and selfish.” she complains, and you shrug, uncaring as you compose a text to your new… boyfriends?

you have created a group message. you have named the group message “power throuple.” you [17:05pm] hi boyfies :)  haechan [17:07pm] boyfies…. i’m weak in the knees jaemin [17:08pm] haechan stand up jaemin [17:08pm] hi baby girl you loved “hi baby girl” haechan [17:10pm] why would i stand up if i could lie down and have our pretty girlfriend sit on my face? 😁 you [17:11pm] you’re bolder over text, huh? haechan [17:12pm] can you blame me? have you seen yourself? you [17:12pm] i have…  haechan [17:13pm] so you know how good you look. don’t judge me when i can’t get my words out in person you [17:15pm] i happen to find it cute when you can’t get your words out jaemin [17:16pm] i find it cute when YOU can’t get your words out you [17:16pm] and when would that be? jaemin [17:17pm] don’t tell me you’ve forgotten so soon… you [17:17pm] i have :( maybe i need a reminder? jaemin liked your message “i have :( maybe i need a reminder?” jaemin [17:18pm] maybe we should come over earlier to jog your memory you [17:20pm] maybe you should. how about 5:45? jaemin liked your message “maybe you should. how about 5:45?” haechan liked your message “maybe you should. how about 5:45?” you [17:22pm] great!! it’s a date :)

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jimin complains as you giggle down at your phone.

“Sorry… and I’m even more sorry for having to cut this short.” you apologize sheepishly as you start to gather your things. 

“You’re kidding…” Jimin remarks, incredulous. “Flat-leaver!”

“I’ll text you after everything,” you assure her, stuffing your notebook in your bag and your phone in your bag’s front pocket. “Gotta go get ready!”

“You’re the worst.” she huffs, but there’s a smile on her face as she rolls her eyes. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Rawr.” You make a claw with your fingers, and she stops short, blinking at you with a blank expression. “Too much?”

“Never do that again.”

You nod in understanding. “Copy.”

tadaaaaa i hope you enjoyed! if you liked it, please shoot me an ask or write something nice in the tags :D i love (positive) feedback!

[taeeflwrr]

crying

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[taeeflwrr]

the end was a punch to the gut....GIVE THEM THEIR HAPPY ENDING!!!!!

haechan - all my demons have your smile

demon!haechan x angel!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff if you're into it wc: 9.6k <3 warnings: dubcon-y & morally gray (reader is a literal angel and doesn't know a lot about anything so it's hard to give informed consent, haechan manipulates her emotions and dreams bc he's a demon), heavy on the corruption kink, wet dreams, masturbating (m), thigh riding / grinding, blowjobs and oral, fingering, haechan thick cock agenda, power dynamics (supernatural edition), sweet aftercare, overstim other warnings: angel demon lore is a mix of representation in pop culture and media and is very NOT based on its religious connotations a/n: happy birthday to me...ngl i wrote 40% of this either tipsy or drunk. this is for all the people who requested being corrupted by haechan….please lmk what you think i hope you guys like this!!! thank u to @saintlyhyuck for giving me the idea for writing demon hyuck <3

haechan thinks your reaction when he calls you angel is like a shot of pure pleasure in his veins. 

"hey, angel." 

you spin around, mouth falling open, flush high on your cheeks. "how could you…?" 

in the dim light of the club, haechan can hardly believe his luck. he raises his eyebrows, leaning in closer to you, delighting in the way you tense. the glow of your skin growing stronger, the feathers of your wings – folded and poorly disguised as a halloween costume, beginning to rustle nervously. 

how could he? more like how couldn't he, what with the way you looked then. the glow of your skin growing stronger, the feathers of your wings – folded and poorly disguised as a halloween costume, beginning to rustle nervously. 

"what do you mean?" he smiles innocently, tilting his head to the side. he has to bite back a laugh at the sound of confusion you make, a small whimper in your throat. "angel is what i call all the pretty girls i see." 

at the stricken look on your face, he lets his mouth fall open deliberately slowly, widening his eyes mockingly. "unless…you're a real angel?" 

you look like a deer in headlights, trembling slightly, unsure of what to say. it was only your first night in the human world. you'd heard there were demons and devils roaming the streets, monsters and spirits hidden in shadowy corners who would hurt you for your wings, worse ones who would strip you of your skin. creatures who were dying to get ahold of an angel and figure out what made you glow, harvest parts of you which were so holy and undamaged. you weren't supposed to let anyone know who you were, least of all strange boys in dark and shadowy places. 

haechan can feel his body burning. it's as if he's hyper-attuned to each breath you take, every single particle of you seeping with untainted innocence, something breathtakingly pure about the way you shake in your flimsy white dress. anticipation claws against his insides – he wants you, wants to learn every part of you, drink in your sweetness and choke on it. 

he's never ruined an angel before. the thought of it sends a heavy pulse through him, right to his gut. 

"relax…" he soothes. he wants to touch your skin, but he knows you might just burst into pure flame out of sheer fright. he softens his gaze as much as possible, tries to dim the desire. a soft smile on his face, he places a hand on his chest, to where his heart should be — if he had one. 

"i'm an angel too." 

you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, relief flooding your system. "really?" 

he nods, lips morphing into a comforting smile. his hand reaches out to touch your upper arm, stroking your skin soothingly. he almost moans with how soft-to-touch it is, your angel's glow tickling his fingers with warmth, spreading through his body and churning inside him. 

"of course," he murmurs. "you're safe with me." 

"if you're an angel…" you lean closer to him, wary of others who may be listening to your conversation. you couldn't believe your luck, finding another angel the first night you got here. breath fanning lightly over his face, you whisper, "where are your wings?"

he can't help it – his breath hitches. he's able to count your every eyelash, feel your chest rise and fall, pretty pink mouth so close to his. there's no suspicion at all in the way your eyes sparkle with innocent curiosity, wide and trusting. 

he can't help it — he wants to see them fill with tears. 

"you want to see my wings?" he murmurs, leaning down. brushing a light hand on your shoulder, he skims the glow of your skin, reaching behind you and letting the tips of his fingers brush the feathers of your wings. 

you still. a strange feeling spreads through you, the room swimming slightly as it makes your head go light, settling deep inside your bones with a dark pulse. this is something you've never felt in heaven – and you're not sure if you want to scream, or run, or guide his hand further on your shoulder blades, letting them linger on places you're sure no angels would ever touch… 

"can you show me?" your voice, achy and soft, is the only sound he can hear. 

and he can't help but wonder, as he guides you towards the back door with a hand on the small of your back, your footsteps barely touching the ground, holy light misting around your body in dizzying waves, – what is an angel like you doing in a place like this?

x

you close your eyes, but open them to find yourself sitting up in an unfamiliar bedroom. 

not the one you had just gone to sleep in - this one had dark silk sheets instead of your white ones, a red glow cast over everything from the lights above. it made you dizzy, and your mouth felt dry as you turned and realised you weren't alone.

the angel you just met was sleeping peacefully next to you, his wings tucked out of sight, skin glowing slightly even under the red light. one of his large hands rests on your thigh, and you suck in a breath at the sight of his veins protruding from his arms and over the back of his hands, long fingers seeming to burn against your skin. 

something stirs in you, a heat you've never felt before that creeps all the way from your navel to the tips of your toes. you didn't know why, but you felt the urge to press your thighs together, letting out a small sigh at the tiny bit of relief it allowed you. you hardly know what you're doing, as if you're being controlled by some higher power or deeper desire, when you guide his hand between your legs with your own trembling ones. 

his fingers twitch, and you freeze. 

his eyes open slowly, nothing innocent about the way his eyes slide over your body and stop at where his hand is nestled between your legs. parting his lips, his eyes flick back to yours, a careful eyebrow raised. 

"angel…what are you doing?"

x

"that's called a dream, sweetheart." 

rubbing your eyes, you steady yourself on the kitchen counter. "so it's not real?" 

"it's not," haechan assures you, kindly. 

"is it…like…my imagination?" 

"some dreams can be pure imagination, but sometimes dreams are our mind's way of letting us know what we want," he explains, purposefully. you sit there, lost in thought, as he brings out dishes from the kitchen and encourages you to eat breakfast. 

while in the human realm, you were bound by the limitations of any human form – needing to sleep, being able to dream, having to eat and drink to sustain your energy. and although there were still aspects of your divinity which spilled over: such as your wings, and the heavenly fire which made you glow, haechan was much more interested in the other ways mortality would change you. 

your propensity to feel lust and desire, primarily. 

"so…" you chew on your lip. "the people in my dream…are they…actually….in there with me?"

haechan smiles to himself. "i don't know what you mean, angel," he fakes a look of genuine confusion when his eyes refocus on you. "who did you dream about last night?" 

"you," you answer, honestly. 

"really? what were we doing?" 

you drop your fork.

haechan laughs lightly when you fumble for it on the ground, smiling serenely back at you when you straighten up, looking at him through your lashes. 

"but, if you don't know…" you tilt your head to the side, slight hopefulness in your voice, "doesn't that mean you weren't actually in my dream last night?" 

"well…" cocking his head to the side to match your own movements, he relishes the way you tense up when he makes eye contact. "we'll only know for sure if you tell me what you were dreaming about." 

your hands fly to your mouth and you shake your head. haechan watches with fascination at the way you mist sparkling light, blush tinting your cheeks with embarrassment. "i don't want to say," you whisper. 

you don't have to say anything. haechan still remembers the way you had looked at him when he opened his eyes, the thrill of feeling you guide his hand to your core. 

dipping into your dreams had been easier than usual, your mind offering up no resistance at all and handing over all reins of control to him. 

"angel?" 

it takes him a second to realize you're referring to him. 

"yes?" 

"i realised i don't know your name." 

he only hesitates for a split second. "it's haechan," he decides. full-sun – a typical angel name. you test it on your tongue, carefully forming the sounds, and he savors it.

he can't wait for nighttime again. 

x

the second time you wake up in a dream, you almost feel at ease in the familiar red-light flooded bedroom, relaxing further when you realise it's empty this time. 

this is just my imagination, you remind yourself.

getting up from the bed, you tiptoe over to the window, looking out at the starry sky. it calms you even further, giving you the courage to turn around and explore your surroundings. aside from a bedside cabinet, and the ridiculously large bed, the room was quite empty.

wondering what lay beyond the bedroom, you make your way to the door of the bedroom, and your hand is just on the doorknob when-

"angel."

if this was just your imagination, then why did it seem so real? 

haechan lay on the bed you woke up in, one hand fisting the black silk sheets while the other traced down his body, writhing with what looked like pain. his eyes were closed, lips parted as he let out small sounds of some emotion you couldn't quite place. 

even as you try to take in what you're seeing, your mind races as you pick up a million other details. you've never seen him in clothes like this before — straps and buckles adorning his chest and pulling in his waist sharply so that you can catch every heaving breath he takes. and when his hand slides lower, ghosting under the waistline of his pants, the soft fabric shifts and you can faintly see the shape of something twitching between his legs. 

"haechan?" crossing over to the bed quickly, you place a hand on his shaking thigh, withdrawing it as if scalded when his back arches and he lets out a moan. "sorry-" you blurt out, "did i hurt you?"

"angel," he whimpers, eyes still closed as he rubs his palm over the front of his pants, his other trailing up under his shirt and teasing over his chest. "fuck-" you suck in a sharp breath at the profanity.

you know there's something wrong about the scene before you. there's nothing holy in the way he tilts his head back to let out a slew of sounds, the line between what was pain and what was pleasure blurring as his lips glisten with saliva, and when he slides that familiar veiny hand underneath his waistband, you could swear he purred. 

and surely, there was something desperately wrong with you too, because the ache between your thighs that you felt the last night was now burning something unbearable, and you felt the urge to reach out and touch him, hear what sounds he would make under your fingertips, beg him to open his eyes so you can see that hungry look again. 

his body stills.

his breathing slowly calms down, his hands slowly releasing himself from under his clothes, falling limply on the sheets. silence fills the room again and static buzzes so loud in your ears you feel like you're about to burst into flames. you don't know what you're doing, as you reach for one of his hands, guiding it towards your mouth as you dart out the tip of your tongue to taste the sticky white substance coating his fingertips. 

and then his eyes open, staring directly at you. 

x

"haechan?" 

"mmhm?" 

"did you dream, yesterday?" you ask him, hesitantly.

"yeah," he answers, easily. 

"what did you dream about?" 

"nothing much. i was in bed, –" a small gasp, and another sound as the mug in your hands slips and falls onto the table with a small thud. he grins, continuing to work on the wards guarding your front door, listening to you clean up behind him. "why? was i in your dream again?" 

a long pause. "kind of." 

when he turns, you're looking at him guiltily, hands clasped tightly in front of you as you twist your fingers this way and that. 

"angel…" he soothes, but the name only makes you shiver. crossing over to you, he pulls you into a comforting hug, your body relaxing under his touch as you lean your head against his chest. you can hear his words through his chest, a low hum filling your ears and making you feel so safe. 

"the dreams…" you admit, softly. "they're so scary…and confusing…i wish i didn't have to dream anymore, i don't think i like it at all…"

"do you want me to stay by your side when you fall asleep again? i can wake you when the dreams make you uncomfortable." 

you nod, eyes shining up at him with adoration and gratitude. 

he just can't wait for nighttime again. 

x

you can't fall asleep. 

haechan holds you against his chest, one of his thighs slotted carelessly between yours. he's resting peacefully, looking angelic under the moonlight, an arm slung protectively around your waist. but if it weren't for your white sheets and your familiar bedroom – adorned with flowers you had picked and shiny trinkets he collected for you, you would have mistaken it for another dream because of the desperate heat that throbbed inside you. 

you didn't know what to do to relieve the pain, body shifting clumsily as you tried to move your hips or rub your thighs against each other, the movement blocked by the way your legs were tangled together. frustrated, you give your hips a rough pulse against his thigh, and freeze when the sensation offers you more than a little relief, an insidious sweetness in your core. 

you move your hips again, grinding gently on his plush thighs, then a little harder as you realise it feels better the more friction there is as you rub against him. and now you're positively humping his leg, breaths coming quick and fast, whines seeping out from behind your closed lips as you try to make the pain go away, chasing pleasure as it comes. 

"angel?"

a rough hand grips your waist, and you gasp. 

haechan's wide eyes meet yours, darker than you've ever seen before, and for some reason when his hand squeezes your side you find yourself shifting even more uncontrollably against him, seeking the friction you craved. 

"i'm sorry!" your voice comes out as a whimper, as you try to back away from him. the room is burning hot, dizzying heat making you gulp. "i don't know what came over me, i just really-" your whole body flooded with shame and guilt, you pull his hand away from where it squeezes your waist.

"hey, hey, it's okay…" in the moonlight, you can see his face morph into an expression of understanding, a sense of authority in the way he helps you sit up and pulls you into his lap. he sweeps you into his arms, and you feel safer than ever before as you straddle him, your body melting with his as you nuzzle your face into his chest, still feeling the aftershocks of embarrassment when you realize he just caught you doing something so unspeakable to his unconscious body. 

you whimper out another apology, letting each stroke of your hair calm you down as he hums, low in his chest, the sound shooting straight to your core in a way that both thrills and frightens you.

"is this what the dreams were about?" 

"yes," you mumble, the sound of your heartbeat still rushing in your ears. timidly, you lift your head to meet his gaze. "i don't know why this is happening, i've never felt this way before…" 

"like this?" his hand slowly snakes down in between your legs, cupping your core with his large hand. the heel of his hand presses against some part of your core, and you keel over into him again, body shuddering as your hips buck into his hand instinctively, as if you were made to react that way. soft whimpers rise from the back of your throat as you nod in response to his question, body moving clumsily as you grind against his fingers. 

haechan swallows, hard. the image of his angel, dressed in that tissue-paper thin white nightgown, humping desperately against his hand like a bitch in heat, was more arousing than he could have ever anticipated. he wants to push you down to the bed and fuck you hard, splitting you apart on his cock and making you beg to cum, he wants to- 

"help me-," you pant in his ear, hips now moving in jagged circles, as if your body can't decide whether to lean into the pleasure or move away from it. "please, i don't know what's happening…"  

"angel, do you trust me?" he murmurs, quietly. 

the answering moan you let out punctures the air. "mmphh…

yes…" you gulp, hands now pawing at his chest as he ghosts his fingers over your clothed core. 

"then trust me when i say that all angels experience this," he advises, calmly. you're enraptured by his every word, and he leans even closer to you as he presses an insistent finger against your clit, smiling to himself as your body shudders.

hopefully, you gasp into his neck. "really?" 

dipping his fingers under your panties, he begins to rub slow circles on your clit, relishing the way you shake under his touch. "of course," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. 

pressure begins to build up in your core as you submit to the feeling. you close your eyes, feeling him rub and pinch at your clit in a way that makes your hips jerk and your thighs go weak. you push your hips into his lap, not even really sure about what you're doing, being met with something hard that makes you whimper as it ghosts over your clothed cunt. strangely, when your hips meet his, haechan also lets out a pained groan, the hand at your core speeding up, wet sounds filling the room as he dips lower and lower, fingers tracing around your slit as he throws his head back and lets out a moan. 

"am i hurting you?" you ask, panicked, hips stuttering to an unsteady halt as you place both palms flat on his chest, trying to push yourself away from what was threatening to unravel you. "haechan i'm so sorry, i must be really bad at this-" 

he interrupts you with a searing kiss, his mouth moving against yours, tongue stroking into your mouth and claiming all your sounds. pulling you back against his body, his hips drag sinfully upwards, grinding into you with just the smallest hint of desperation. 

feeling you fuck yourself against his clothed cock, mind clouded with desire and not a single idea of what you were doing – knowing he could corrupt you in so many different ways, had his head spinning with all the possibilities.  

"you're perfect, angel." pushing you so you lay flat against the bed, he clambers over your body, all the while sponging kisses on your neck with a sweet tenderness.

"but," you shake your head, trying to get rid of the haze in your mind. "you sound like you're in pain, and-" 

"you wanna make it better, angel?" 

nodding vigorously, you sit up and almost hit your forehead against his. "please!" you beg, hands fumbling beyond your control as you struggle with the the waistband of his pants, trying to tug them down so you can see what he was doing in your last dream, so you could help with where it hurts. "i want to help, i want to make you feel good…" 

his hands sweep your wrists into a tight grip, and your movements freeze. you look up at him, breath caught in your throat. 

"from now on, angel…" he traps your hands above your head, his other dragging your nightgown up your waist with a flat palm, still trying to feel as much soft skin under his hands as possible. "can you be quiet for me? can you do that, sweetheart?" 

you nod, bottom lip snug as you bite down on it. he knows you won't be able to hold it for long. 

"i'm going to make you feel so good, angel," he breathes, hand now tugging your panties down your legs at a sinful pace. he answers your silent question with a smile. "feel how wet you are? do you know what this means, baby?" he taunts, quietly. 

"all of this…" he slides two fingers against your slick core, smiling as your hips thrust up, your body responding to him and completely out of your control. "all of this shows me how much you like me, angel." 

one long finger slides into your core, and he lets out a filthy groan at the way your tight pussy sucks him in, tight and eager. 

"have you ever touched yourself here before?" 

you shake your head. "i didn't know i could," you mumbled, hips still stuttering, fucking yourself on his finger. "haechan…it feels so…" 

he starts to slide his finger out, thrusting it slowly against your walls, this thumb comes out to rub your clit, and your back arches, a gasp wrenched from your throat as you cum, uncontrollably, all over his hand.

pulling his hand out from your core and freeing your wrists, he silences every single one of your gasps with a kiss, tenderly nipping at your lips as his hands roam over your body. he just made his angel cum for the first time. 

"m-more," you pant, hands scratching down his back as you attempt to thrust up against his stomach. "haechan- i don't mean to be greedy, but i want… i want…" 

two fingers slide easily into your core, your moans morphing into a pleasurable sigh as your eyes roll back in your head, drunk on a feeling you've never felt before. a slow heat crawls around your body, wrapping itself around you and suffocating until all you can think about are his veiny hands, the hard length in his pants, and the way you still felt empty even as he pushed a third finger into you. 

"you see how your cunt just sucks my fingers in?" his voice is baby-talk pitched, and you fall even harder under his spell, nodding vigorously as your thighs clamp shut around his hand. "such an insatiable, needy slut… thought you were supposed to be an angel, hmm?" you claw at his body, hips moving in time with the way his fingers were moving in and out of you. 

haechan feels like he's in seventh heaven, the way you're losing your mind over just his hand, obsessive over a feeling you can't even articulate. he crooks his fingers against your walls, a triumphant glow thundering in his chest when he sees you fall apart even more. 

it's when you're on the brink of cumming for a second time, your body glowing like a bonfire, spilling light all over the room, when he suddenly withdraws his hand. leaning back against the headboard, he tugs his pants down and feels his thick cock slap up against his stomach, precum glistening from the angry red tip. 

he's not prepared for the sight of you, on all fours, crawling towards him, eyes wide and begging. as if in a trance, your hand reaches towards his cock, and your palm wraps around it curiously, giving it a hard stroke. his lets out another groan, one of his own hands wrapping around yours and encouraging you to squeeze even harder, focusing your attention on the tip and covering it with your fingers. 

"i know a way that can make both of us feel good." he makes sure there's nothing but sincerity in his eyes as he watches your head shoot up in excitement. 

"how?" 

pulling you into his lap again, and whispering his words sinfully against your lips, he coaxes you with a quick nip to your bottom lip, a swipe of his tongue against yours. "let me fuck your sweet cunt, hm?" he pants. fingers sliding expertly into your cunt, he wraps an arm around your waist as he makes scissoring motions in you, stretching you out. "bet you feel so empty…" he pouts, nodding sympathetically towards you. "i can fill you up so good, angel, you'll realize this is what you were made for…" 

your mind is slipping out of your grasp. you forget everything about being an angel, about how weird it felt to be touched like this, how you never once had another angel touch you between your legs, ideas of purity and innocence and sin blurring in a happy haze. 

"are you…" you gulp, eyeing the girth of his cock, the way it twitched under your palm as you squeezed. "are you sure it'll fit…in me?" you wonder aloud. 

"would you rather have me fuck your throat, angel?" 

"would that work?" and fuck, you're back on your knees, head dangerously close to his cock as your tongue darts out, licking up a shiny bead of precum from his slit. he's frozen in place as he watches you nuzzle your face against it, making a soft whiny sound at the back of your throat as you messily tongue at the base, his cock twitching against the soft skin of your cheek. "i don't…" you lap tentatively at his tip, using a hand to steady yourself on his thigh, the other gripping his cock and gently sucking the tip into your mouth, withdrawing when you feel the stretch against your lips. "i don't think it'll fit…" 

"come here," he croaks, arms coming up to steady you as you rush up to meet him, doe-eyes searching his for answers to this desperate desire he's instilled within you. 

"i need you," you whimper, frustratedly. "haechan please, i'll be good for you, just make this feeling go away…"

his cock teases over your entrance, and your moan rips through the half-finished sentence on your lips. 

"feels good?" he murmurs, kissing you deeply again as he thrusts up gently into you. "sit on it, don't be shy angel…" 

steadying yourself on his shoulders, you sink down on him, stopping every few seconds as you feel a slight stretch. the prep you've done with his fingers and all the teasing allowing your walls to give way to him, snugly sucking him in as you pulse around his member. every time you whimper, wings fluttering where they were folded against your back, he kisses you gently, hands stroking up and down your spine and distracting you from the sensation in your lower half.

"just a bit more, baby…" he bottoms out in you, a satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he squeezes you into his embrace, your arms wrapped around him, craving his skin against yours as you shudder. he's already ripping your nightgown from your body, the luscious feeling of bare skin making you purr in delight. 

your palms skid over his skin, settling on his shoulders as he gives a rough thrust upwards, and you feel his cock drag heavy against your walls. his hand moves purposefully over to your clit, mimicking a vibrating motion with his fingers so you only clench tighter around him. when you cum again – the inner sides of your thighs now so wet that the filthiest sounds fill the room every time your hips meet, he feels lke he could do this forever. 

slowing down his movements, he gently pushes your hair out of your face to give you a little break. "how do you feel, angel?" he asks, softly.

"g-good…" you hiccup, swivelling your hips this way and that, trying to find a rhythm now that he had stilled within you. 

he hums, still not moving, enjoying the way you squirm in his lap. "something wrong?" 

"it hurts…" you whine, now bouncing on his lap, nails digging into his shoulders. "it hurts when you don't move, haechan, please…" 

"do you believe me when i said you were made for me?" 

"yes," you rasp out, as he starts to fuck into you again, making you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he grinds up into you, blunt tip insistent against your sweet spot and making you feel that mind-numbing pleasure again. 

"is this all you're good for, angel? sitting in my lap, looking pretty…" he bites down on your neck, and you let out a soft cry. "being fucked open on me…" 

you nod, words leaving you as you melt under his strong grip. 

"making me so happy, angel," he murmurs, and you smile dopily up at him, panting. 

"you like making me happy?' 

you nod, swallowing hard as you work yourself into a frenzy, and he loves it, loves the way you rock your hips into his at an embarasing pace, sensitivity all at once too much for you and never enough. he watches as your eyes roll back into your head, wings bursting open with the sheer force of how hard you cum, walls squeezing him so tight that he can barely move as he lets go too. you gasp when you feel his warmth painting your walls, a new sensation on top of everything you've experienced that night making you let out a distressed whine. 

"be good for me, angel, hmm?" he coaxes, pulling you harder down onto his lap so you can't free yourself from his embrace. "let me fill you up."

dumbly, succumbing to the way he pulls you in for another kiss, you let your eyelids flutter shut, an overwhelming sense of fatigue flooding your entire system. until the room goes blurry at the edges, and the last thing you're aware of is haechan's hands sliding low on your navel, feeling where he was buried deep inside you, hands pressing against the way you bulge out — his pretty little angel stretched out and filled with him.

x

he's never fucked an angel before, so it almost comes as a shock when he catches a glimpse of you on his way out of your bathroom, immobile on your bed, skin drained of all its heavenly glow, a dullness so abrupt he freezes.

if he was to be honest, which he almost never had to be, his original plan had included leaving immediately after he got you in his bed. he had only been drawn to the idea of defiling an angel, filling you up with a need you never felt before, staining the glow of innocence that lit up your skin from beneath. 

he wanted the sight of you on your knees — of tears rolling down your cheeks. but he never prepared for this – 

haechan. 

your voice murmurs in his head, and he can hear how hoarse and fragile it is. he doesn't dare to move as he watches you, so motionless you're barely breathing, your body shielded by your wings and drawing his attention to how your feathers look like they would crumble into ashes. 

your voice creeps into his head again, and it's like some form of sick retribution – first he plays with your dreams, and now he doesn't know if it's really your voice in his mind or if it's some sort of guilt that seeped out of you and into him. 

haechan?

he moves without meaning to, the next thing he knows he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands sliding against the sheets towards you. 

"angel?" 

your eyes open to look at him, and through the haze of fatigue and your slow blinking, he can see that you're terrified. 

what's happening to me? 

he touches the tip of your wing. he pitches his voice low, and soothing.

"you're just adjusting from being in the human world," he murmurs. 

what if what we just did was wrong? tears well up in your eyes, and your lips part in a silent cry. haechan, i've never felt like this before…

he shushes you with a soft sound, leaning over to gather up your limbs and hold you against his chest, rocking you back and forth as he murmured praises into your hair. 

"how could it be wrong if it felt so good, angel?" wiping away your tears with a careful finger, he smiles encouragingly at you, pressing a light kiss to your cheek.

you nod, hanging onto his every word, letting it wash over you as your truth.

 "and also…" his voice dips. "didn't you see how happy you made me just now?" he murmurs, lips nipping at your ear. "don't you like making me happy?"

you nod again. 

hesitating, his hand cups your face, stroking over your jaw. he knows what would make you stronger again — something he read about angels surfacing in his mind before, recalling how your power was usually most concentrated in the column of your throat, and why it was extra sensitive. creatures would slit your throat for just a taste of your angel's grace, but if he were just to touch you at your sweet spot, feel your divinity underneath his fingertips and coax it to grow stronger with his own powers…

quietly, so as not to startle you, he slides his hand to your neck, tracing his fingertips over where your pulse point would be. your body begins to stir as he rubs circles closer to the back of your neck,  limbs twitching back to life and falling limp again. 

"how does it feel, angel?" he asks, softly. 

your lips part. "strange…" your voice is raw, a hollow and broken sound. "never felt this before…" 

he reaches the nape of your neck, and suddenly your hand flies up to grab his wrist in a strong hold – halting his movements and causing him to freeze as your nails dig into his skin, threatening to pierce through to his veins. "don't-!"

"i'm not going to hurt you," he murmurs, voice dripping patience and tenderness as he slowly pries each of your fingers off his wrist, interlocking his other hand with yours. "this is going to feel really good, okay?" 

your body continues to squirm against his, finger locking his in a death grip as he ghosts his hand over the nape of your neck, finally locating your most vulnerable spot judging by the way you let out a soft sound in his ear. he applies more pressure, massaging his fingers in soothingly and whispering praises to drown out your whimpering. 

and sure enough, your glow begins to come back – starting from where his hand held yours, a warm golden light which flowed through your veins and under your skin, your body heating up and enveloping him in that blissful glow again. you taste sweet when he presses a careful kiss to your collarbone, and if he listens closely he can almost hear your body hum with power, wings fluttering against your back as their ashy color seems to wash itself off, replaced with the pristine glow he'd taken a liking to. 

"haechan?" 

"yes, angel?" 

"when can we do that again?" you mumble, shyly. 

fuck that – he was beginning to grow obsessed with you. 

x

strolling with you outside, haechan lets the fresh air wash over him and calm him down. you look ethereal next to him, passerby's eyes glazing over when they catch sight of the way you seem to glide rather than walk, peering curiously at the different shop windows and dreamily staring at the stars above. possessively, he wraps an arm around your waist just so anyone who looks at you looks at him too, and realises you're his as much as he was yours. 

"this is so pretty," you whisper to him, tugging him to a display of diamond jewelry up ahead. he's learnt that you like shiny things and the smell of spring-time, that he could make your skin glitter by gently nipping at your bottom lip when he kissed you. looking at you and completely ignoring the jewels behind glass, he takes in the familiar look of love in your eyes and smiles. 

he could have robbed the store for you before you even had the time to blink. a snap of his fingers and the very necklace you were pointing at could have made its way onto your neck. or he could have had some fun with you and convinced you to steal it, coax you into doing one more terrible thing. 

but he pulls you into the store anyway – even as you latch onto his arm nervously, tugging at his sleeve telling him you don't need the pretty jewels. but still he patiently converses with the store attendant, encouraging you to pick out the pieces you liked the most, enjoying the genuine happiness in your eyes as he spoiled you with gifts. 

when the attendant is busying himself in the back room, you peek over at him with barely contained excitement, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

"i'll make it up to you," you breathe, arms hooked around his neck. 

"how?" 

"i…" you look at him through your lashes, and he can feel your skin heat up. "i can do that thing you talked about last time…" 

"what thing?" he presses, pulling you closer so all of your attention is focused on him. 

you barely notice, caught up in your thoughts. "when i asked…and you told me…" 

"angel," he says, lowly. his voice is more raspy than he thought it would be, rough with need. "i won't know what you mean if you don't say it-" 

"you can fuck my throat," you say, softly. he searches your eyes and sees that you're embarrassed, yes, even a little guilty at the crude words which your lips just formed, but there's no trace of fear at all. you trust him wholly and completely, your breathing tinged with desperation as it picks up, as you brush up closer to him. when he doesn't respond, you hesitate a little, trying to decipher his expression. "if…if you still want to." 

"want to?" he murmurs. 

"i might not be very good at it, but you can teach me-" 

groaning, he swallows the rest of your sentence with a hungry kiss, the kind that lifts you off your feet and makes you feel like you're flying and falling all at once. 

x

he takes you home in an instant, dropping the bags of necklaces and diamonds as he pushes you roughly against the bedroom door. you slide to your knees in between his spread legs, his pretty angel, eyeing him with a maddeningly innocent look of wonder on your face. 

"how…how are you going to…" 

"do you want me to teach you?" 

you nod excitedly, hands now stroking his thighs absentmindedly, and he has to stifle a groan. 

"what if…" he clears his throat. "what if i changed my mind? what if i don't want to teach you anymore?" 

"please-" your eyes widen with fear. "i'll be good for you..." he still looks unconvinced, so more words fall at random from your lips. "and if i'm not good enough, you can punish me-" 

pulling you up, he kisses you harshly. it was almost as if you were rotten through and through, and it was all because of him. 

"i don't think there will be a need for punishments, angel," he assures you, gently pushing you back down on your knees as he shoves his pants down, tongue poking into his cheek and stretching his puffy lips apart as he watches the way you eye his cock almost hungrily. 

you start out by taking just the tip into your mouth, suckling on it lightly and letting go with a gasp when you feel like you can't breathe. he trains you through it, coaxing you to take more and more, holding your head down when you feel like giving up and stroking your face encouragingly every time you smile back at him, lips messy with drool and precum, eager for his approval. 

he finally gets you to sink down on him — feel your hot wet tongue licking over his veins, shoving your way through and choking yourself on his length, nose hitting his navel as your nails dig into his thighs with pain, trying desperately hard to breathe through your nose like he taught you as he fucks his hips up experimentally. 

it's like one of his filthiest fantasies, the way he pulls out to cum all over your face — your mouth lewdly open and trying to lick up as much of him as you could, unaware of how it made you look. 

"i'm sorry, angel," and he swears he almost feels it, as he pushes his fingers deep into you, rewarding you for your good behavior. "next time, i won't make it so messy." 

but you shake your head vigorously, back arching into his chest as your thighs clamp around his hand. "'m always making a mess of you too," you mumble, blush spreading to the tips of your ears as you smile up at him. "i don't mind you making a mess of me." 

drawing away from your body, he keeps his eyes on you the whole time he crawls down to situate himself between your legs. he keeps his eyes on you so he can catch the first look of surprise, confusion, and pure desire that spreads across your face when he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

"sometimes, i wish you could hear the things you say to me the way that i hear them." he laps at your entrance, and you swear you see stars. "you're so filthy, angel."  

and in the darkness of the room, you glow even brighter with pride. 

x

haechan feels a little stupid right now, sitting in his booth, letting some human girl put her hands all over him and hoping you're watching. 

"i'll only be a minute," he had murmured into your ear. "have something to take care of."

and for the past 5 minutes he's played his part well – fingers tilting her chin up so he can whisper words into her ear and brush his lips against her neck. playing with strands of her hair, eyes half-lidded and body slumped against hers, legs carelessly spread. he knows it's making her dizzy simply being around him, his body radiating lust.

it's when she slides into his lap that he finally feels your eyes on him, picking up on the way your breath hitches in a small gasp from all the way across the room. he doesn't bother to hide his smile as he rubs his thumbs on the girl's bare waist in slow, tantalizing circles. begging for you to take the bait. 

all the way across the room, your body tenses, hands trembling slightly as your vision zeroes in on haechan and the girl draped over him. you watch as she guides his eager hands up her thighs, the glint of his smile almost blinding in the dark. something roars inside your chest, clawing at your lungs, an acidic something you've never felt before threatening to melt you from the inside out as you watch her lean in towards him, lips dragging across his jaw where you had kissed him last. 

haechan closes his eyes when he feels her lean in, lips falling open as he mimics the look of someone lost in pleasure, hoping to rile you up even more. her lips barely brush his skin before he feels something searing hot take its place, pure pain rippling up from his palms where he was touching her skin. his eyes shoot open as he sits up with a jolt, but he doesn't have to look long to understand what happened.

the lifeless body of the human girl slumps to the dirty floor of the club. towering above her, wings fully extended, skin glowing so bright he could hardly make out your features, you look down at him with gold flashing in your eyes. 

"when you said you had something to take care of, did you mean her?" 

exhilaration races through him, your jealousy and your anger feeding each pump of blood in his veins. 

"angel-"

he starts to speak, but you cut him off with a tight hand on his wrist. 

"no." 

light briefly darts across his vision, the scene melting like wax as your bedroom materialises soundlessly around the both of you. 

he didn't even know you could do that. 

when you let go of his wrist, your wings are folded again, your skin returned to its normal pale glow. but there's nothing normal about the way you sink onto him on the bed, his body pliant under your touch in a way he isn't even able to control, all semblance of the power he just gained draining from him as you put your hands on his chest. 

"did i do something wrong?" you murmur, your voice lower than he had ever heard it. "is that why you went looking for her?"

his lips part, mouthing soundlessly as your weight shifts on him. he had forgotten how to speak, the way you were looking at him stealing his breath from his lungs and turning his mind to mush.

"why did you let her touch you?" you demanded, a slight growl to your voice he never heard before. "hm?"

"i'm s-sorry," he whispered. 

"do you want her?" your eyes flash dangerously, your skin burning hot to touch now, wings rustling along your shoulder blades. your hair moving unnaturally despite there being no wind in the room, reaching out and curling in lazy tendrils at the base of his neck. "are you thinking of her right now?" 

dazed and drunk on your voice, he shakes his head, eyes never moving from yours. drool glistens on his lips, his body numb under your spell. 

"want me, haechan," you breathe, pressing yourself into him needily, dipping your head so you can feel his labored breathing on your lips, lips brushing his as you beg – when really you have him under your complete control. "tell me you want me, just me." you push your hips against him, and he can feel himself throb with need. 

"i want you," he whimpers. "fuck, angel, i want you so bad, please-"

"show me," you murmur, your nails scratching down his chest and making him moan out breathily as you lift your weight from his. moving so you lie back against the headboard, you watch as he takes a second to catch his breath before scrambling up, eyes wild and movements jerky. 

positioning himself in between your legs, his hands drag your skirt up your thighs haphazardly, breath hitching when he sees you're already bare for him. 

"angel," he says without thinking, "fuck, angel, you're perfect." he dips his tongue into your cunt, moaning loudly and lewdly as your sweet arousal floods his tastebuds. sloppily moving his mouth over your folds, his tongue circles your clit expertly before dipping down to collect your juices. he moves his head this way and that, mindlessly holding you in place with strong arms as he licks his tongue as deep into you as it will go. your thighs clamp tight around his head, and he lets out a muffled sob of approval, his stiffened tongue pushing past your tight entrance and nose bumping your clit with his movements. 

you can feel your climax approaching, your body trained by him to respond to his touches. thrusting your hips into his face, he frees a hand to slip a finger into your tight hole, mumbling with pleasure when he feels you suck him in. 

"want my angel to cum," he begs, desperation dripping from his tone. the pads of his fingers brush your sweet spot, the warmth of your skin spiking again as the feeling makes you glow with pleasure, trapping him in a heat haze between your thighs. "my pretty angel," he hums approvingly, slipping in another finger. your hips twist this way and that but he pins you down firmly with his arm, stretching you out with his fingers as his lips move back to your clit. his mind is flooded with the thought of you and your pleasure, your small whimpers and each tremble of your body making his body buzz with satisfaction. his mind wiped clean of everything but your smell and taste. he spells out your name with his tongue, silken movements on your clit paired with rough drags of his fingertips against your walls finally making you release all over his face. 

he moans as he laps it up, sticking his fingers in his mouth to savor it. dizzy, he blinks up at you, feeling lightheaded as reality rushes towards him in a tidal wave. 

what the fuck did you just do to him? 

"angel." he starts, shaking his head to clear it again, loosening himself from your grip. "what did you…"

"did I hurt you?" you cup his face in your hands in one swift movement, tilting his head up so his eyes remain fixed on yours. "haechan? is everything okay?"

it's the way you say his name that pulls him right under again. gold specks dance in your eyes as your voice lowers, and it's like you slow time, and he can see your every word hang in the air, feel your angel's glow seep from the pads of your fingers into his bones and liquify every particle of him. 

"i-i…" he stammers. "angel…" 

"why did you stop?" his pretty pink mouth falls open when you place a thumb on his lower lip, his eyes glazing over as you let out a needy whine. "haechan…"

wordlessly, because he's forgotten all forms of language, he pulls you into his lap, letting you straddle him as he blinks up at you adoringly. kissing your collarbones, he removes your dress with shaky movements, reduced to nothing more than a human, forgetting to use his powers entirely as he shoves his own clothes away. 

his lips never leave your skin, sucking messy bruises and nuzzling his nose against your warmth. you're misting light in a hypnotic glow, and he's sure it's the reason why he's so hard it hurts, shaky hands now ghosting over your hips as he tries to stop himself from cumming untouched. 

"will you be good for me?"

amidst the fog in his brain, arousal shoots through him when he hears the words rise from your throat, and he bucks his hips up instinctively. his cock slides against your folds, and he lets out a choked sob, gripping onto your hips even tighter as he throws his head back. 

"i'm yours", he whimpers, hips shallowly thrusting up into you. a high pitched moan rips from his throat as he feels you sink down on him, gummy walls clenching onto him like never before. 

"are you mine?" you murmur, neediness still dripping from every syllable even as you have him reacting to your slightest touches like a livewire. you circle your hips, causing his to stutter. 

his arms wrap around your body, worshiping you with his touch. "i'm yours," he trembles, hips thrusting up to pound further into your heat. you clench hard around him, and he loses all control, cumming into you with an embarrassed whimper, his head falling against your chest. he slows to a stop as he feels himself coat your walls, sensitivity making him hiss.

"more," you urge, and his body reacts to the command before he realises what he's doing, thrusting up into you again as his voice cracks and jumps like a broken record. through tears in his eyes, he admires the way you look as you bounce on him, chest heaving and skin flushed, the soft sounds you make. he speeds up even as it hurts, a hand snaking in between your bodies to press at your clit, rubbing it in quick motions. 

"angel," he whimpers, like a prayer, breathing rough and shallow. "angel." you trace a hand on his cheek, and he nuzzles his face into it, bucking up into you with more fervor. he'd do anything to make you feel good, in that moment, no matter what it took. 

he cums when you do, feeling slick ooze out from where he was stuffed into you. he doesn't stop rubbing your clit, forcing your walls to clench in spasms around him. whimpering against your lips, you let him drive you into overstimulation as he fucks his spent cock into you again, dribbling out the last bit of cum he had left. 

when he pulls out of you, letting out a last gasp of pain, your eyelids are already starting to droop. the room is cold and silent without your glow, and he watches dazedly as you drain of all light again, a dullness spreading from in between your wings, faster than the last time. his whole body feels sore and spent, his arms barely able to hold you up as you slump against him. you look fucked out, and ashen, and — 

he pulls you in for a soft kiss. moving his mouth gently over yours, feeling stronger when you sigh into his mouth. his fingers caress the inner edge of your wings gently, moving to stroke comforting circles down your spine, his hand eventually trailing its way to the nape of your neck. 

"haechan…" 

"is this okay?" he murmurs, applying gentle pressure with his fingertips. your noses brush as you blink sleepily up at him, and he watches a little bit of glow flicker to life in your eyes, feeling your skin warm under his touch. you squirm a little in his arms, head nuzzling into his neck and throat letting out a soft whimper. 

"why…" you bite your lip as he applies a bit more pressure, "why is it always you taking care of me?"

the answer comes to him easier than breathing. "because you're my angel." 

"but i-" 

he gently maneuvers you around in his lap, strong arms lifting you so your back faces him instead. brushing your hair aside and gathering it up in one hand with a tenderness you can't even begin to place, his plush lips begin to graze your neck, reverently sponging kisses on the sweet spot he's had burned into his memory. you tilt forward, tingles running down your spine, but his arms encircle you and pull you back until you're almost flush against his chest.

this time, when he presses a soft kiss to your skin, warmth rushes through you like a shot of pure light through storm clouds, your whole body alight. 

"i want to take care of you too," you say, quietly. and then, bolder, "i don't know if i'm just weak because i haven't been here very long, but this never seems to affect you like it affects me…"

"you're not weak, baby," another kiss, a gentle brush of his forefinger. "you're just an angel." 

"but you're an angel too," you insist. 

haechan's chest aches. 

you continue, "and you never seem to grow weak whenever we…whenever we…" 

"that's because you're always so good for me." now burying his face in your neck, he pulls you closer in his arms, closing his eyes so he can breathe you in. "you're too good for me, angel." 

you relax in his hold, and when he next opens his eyes, you're glowing as bright as all the stars in heaven put together. 

x

haechan thinks of the way you reacted when he first called you angel, weeks ago, in this very club. 

now, the air is sticky, and it clings to his skin too uncomfortably. bodies press up against him, eyes seeking his, but he doesn't meet any of them – his mind in a completely different place. 

your skin glows gently even in the dark bedroom. 

you lie on your chest, wings folded against the sheets, your face turned towards the side so that he can see just a hint of your features in the shadows. even as he backs towards the door, he feels the inexplicable urge to wake you from your sleep, if anything to see your eyes open again, drink in the doe-eyed sweetness. the entire time he sweeps through your apartment – carelessly erasing the traces of his presence, picking up his jacket, pocketing shiny trinkets he bought you, — he wishes you would wake up and cling close to him the way you always used to in the mornings. longing to feel the light on his skin again, your touch hesitant and needy all at once. 

lust, envy, wrath, pride – all of these meant nothing to him, but watching the way they drained you, and realizing that by corrupting you he was killing you softly every night…it clawed at him like nothing ever had before. 

looking up from his drink, he's startled to come face to face with a girl he's never seen before. her smile doesn't reach her eyes as she reaches out to touch his hand, fingers drawing practiced circles on his wrist. 

he didn't tamper with your dreams the night he left, but still he wondered if you were dreaming of him.

he takes a deep breath. 

"hey, angel."

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