༝ saraya 26 infj ༝ she/her ༝ carrd ༝ masterlist ༝ my main ༝
grander delusions the older i get 𐦍༘⋆
꩜ sharing the dreams that grow sticky in daylight
REQUESTS: OPEN 🗯️
⋆。˚ ★ 18+ mdni ༝
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@handlemehyuck
༝ saraya 26 infj ༝ she/her ༝ carrd ༝ masterlist ༝ my main ༝
grander delusions the older i get 𐦍༘⋆
꩜ sharing the dreams that grow sticky in daylight
REQUESTS: OPEN 🗯️
⋆。˚ ★ 18+ mdni ༝
oh mark lee
the suburbs near chicago are doing crazy things to me
sleepy conversations with haechan 💭
everything that comes out at night
everything that’s easy to say when the moon is bright and beautiful through your bedroom window
your eyes closed, head turned to face him. the coolness of your pillow against your cheek. the comfort of knowing what you’d find if you held out your hand, if your fingers danced with desire to feel
his thumb tracing lines and shapes, listening sounds then questions to keep you talking, to encourage your mellow melody, the unraveling thoughts
the trust.
the promises.
the honesty.
the sweet pockets of laughter.
the space that’s offered.
the room for exhales, for stutters, for dissecting something the sun doesn’t know.
the moment haechan lets go. his details that soften your heart. the words that pull you in, and now you’re against him, warm and relaxed, draped before dreams. draped so the dreams are only sweet
I NEVER KNEW YOU WERE HOLDINBACKSECRETS???? OMG😭😭😭😭
I used to go by the user jaeyunluvr idk if you remember me but I was always on your main for so long before deciding to write on my own and you were the reason I started loving writing🥹🥹🥹
omg 🙈 guilty lol
yes! i remember you 🥺 and this is so sweet?? i’m honored?? thank you so much for sharing this with me ☹️ happy writing 🤍🤍🥹
my comfort zone is clearly short-form, but this haechan idea i have deserves so much more than that 😭
newlyweds 18+
imagine waking up the first morning of your honeymoon after traveling the night of your wedding - a short flight to paradise, changing in the backseat of an SUV in route to the airport, cotton and kisses, euphoria exchanged—euphoria swelling with every touch. the wedding night afterglow lingers in the air as memories fill your mind with every flutter of your eyelids. imagine donghyuck, who’s already been awake making breakfast, perched beside you, fingertips following the shape of your face from your temple to the curve of your jaw. nipping at the pad of his finger as it meets the plush of your lips, and his laughter is what finally opens your eyes. imagine the softness nestled deeply in his expression. the undeniable peace and joy and utter excitement because he’s looking down at his wife. for the very first morning in his life, donghyuck has a wife. and for the very first morning in your life, you have a husband. and you giggle, suddenly consumed by the memories of your paths colliding all those years ago, how a crush developed into friendship. when feelings one might describe as love started keeping you up at night, worried that he wouldn’t feel the same way. you’ve come so far, so you wrap your arms around his neck, finding soft strands of honey and needing him closer, telling him so with a look he knows so well, a look that aided his like becoming love. his torso grazes yours, hands expertly following the curves of your body, slowly, passionately, before cradling your face. his lips find your own in a smile that yours mirror. imagine the ‘thank you’ that leaves you mouth in between kisses. imagine the emotion in his eyes when donghyuck pulls away just far enough to look at you but close enough to pinpoint every note in your perfume. and your expression is caught by sunlight. you sparkle, so softly, bite your lip and nod. ‘thank you for everything - for loving me, choosing me, making everywhere we go feel like home.’ imagine the love you make, breakfast forgotten, as he takes his time removing every piece of silky lace on your skin, kissing as he goes, as if there are still places left to discover. he’ll spend the rest of his life finding new ways to caress your skin, to worship your glow, to untangle and unravel, intertwine and collide again and again.
ur blog is so very special to me!!!! every single fic!!!! is perfect!!!! i didn’t wanna spam like bc I know writers don’t like that but I just wanted to let u know!!!! U have a gift!!!!
thank you so much 🥺 i appreciate this beyond words. i’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my pieces 🖤🤍
p.s. i actually don’t mind “spam” likes. seeing any level of (positive) engagement with my blog makes me happy
there’s a galaxy of haechan thts in my head at all times
i’m esp fond of yearning reader who keeps a cigarette in her pocket bc haechan left it in her apartment, and it’s the only thing she has around that’s actually his.
i’m also partial to neighbor haechan who finds you on the rooftop every sunday night after dinner with your dad and stepmom. you used to walk to the park to ground yourself, but on a night that feels like a lifetime ago, you started craving a pretty skyline instead. haechan was walking up the stairs to your floor, held the door open for you and everything, but you rounded the corner, climbing higher. he tried to talk to you, but the chunkiest headphones he’d ever seen drowned out his sarcasm. he didn’t follow you then, not yet. it took a couple weeks before he gained the courage to. that first time he finally did, he almost left when you stayed quiet beside him, when he suddenly felt like an intrusive asshole before you exhaled and scooted close enough for your head to rest on his shoulder.
another favorite: mornings. any morning. every morning. his messy hair and gravelly voice. his sweet, sleepy kisses and wandering hands. his curiosity and laughter over breakfast. your intertwining routines, still sometimes messy as you knock into each other or interrupt the other’s shower. stalling in the doorway. pondering creative ways to say goodbye, to say i already miss you. to open the door with messy hair because it’s your day off and shouting a reminder down the hall when texting would suffice, but there’s something romantic about your voice finding his ear in an echo. there’s something romantic about him turning to look at you and letting the elevator doors close. there’s something romantic about him running back because dammit, now he must kiss you one more time.
bf dreamies 𓍼 when you’re sick
♡ mark finds you in the middle of the night asleep on the bathroom floor, and he can feel the fever on your hot, clammy skin. he disappears for a moment and drags the comforter out of the guest room to set up a makeshift bed on the tile. he fills a bowl with ice water, soaks a washcloth, and gets as comfortable as possible beside you before patting your skin. you mewl, shifting uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowed. “i know, sweet girl.” he carefully moves your agitated figure so your head is in his lap and manages to get the plush bedding beneath your body. “achy. hot and achy. my shirt. mark, please take it off.” your cheeks are red, fingers attacking the buttons of your flannel. mark strokes your hand and gently replaces your touch with his own. you feel better once the thick material is off, revealing your chest. mark lays the washcloth over your bare skin before collecting a second one from the cabinet drawer and submerging the small square into the icy bowl.
♡ renjun makes sure you’re cozy in bed: fairy lights twinkling, your favorite plushies surrounding you, humidifier on, with tea, water, and crackers on your nightstand. he lets you know there’s ginger ale in the fridge, too. he sets up a studio ghibli movie and rolls fuzzy socks onto your feet. he starts a load of laundry and cleans your kitchen. he wipes down the countertops in your bathroom and comes running in with The Bucket when you call his name in a tone that could only mean one thing: you’re about to throw up again. he joins you half an hour into howl’s moving castle once all the household chores are finished and rubs your back. he helps you out of your sweatshirt when you’re feeling uncomfortably hot again and spends the rest of the afternoon holding you. by some miracle, he doesn’t get sick, too.
♡ jeno’s on the phone with the pharmacist, level-toned and kind as always despite the scene playing out in front of him: you, sick as a dog in his living room. you, flushed with body chills and aches, unable to keep anything down, and waiting for the prescription that was supposed to be ready two hours ago. “so 20 minutes? and if it doesn’t help? it will? how long until it takes effect?” you look over, catching the concern consuming his beautiful face, wishing he’d just come sit with you. you wave him over when you finally catch his eye. “please sit with me, jen and hold my hand. i can handle 20 minutes.” he thanks the pharmacist and hangs up, padding across the hardwood floor to you. your pointer fingers touch before tracing a smile in the air, and jeno finally relaxes, offering you the smallest beam before sinking into the couch to welcome your immediate cling. you take his hand and follow the lines in his palm, falling asleep before you reach the one closest to his wrist.
♡ haechan doesn’t believe you at first because you never get sick, then you send him a selfie from the hospital waiting room with a few colorful words, and he freaks. he’s waiting for the elevator down the hall from his apartment when he realizes he’s still wearing his slippers and curses at himself before turning on his heels. he makes a grocery list in his car of all the things to pick up once you’re out of your appointment, wishing he could’ve joined you, wondering why you didn’t tell him as soon as you started feeling symptomatic. he meets you at the entrance door with a mask and beanie on, guides you through the parking lot and asks what the doctor said and how you’re feeling. he reads the visit notes five times before leaving the lot because you started groaning in the passenger seat, begging him to take you home. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry. i need to get you some things, though. do you want to wait in the car? or i can take you home and come back out.” you agree to stay with him, adjusting the seat so you’re laying back, arm raised and resting over your eyes. he squeezes your forearm and pushes the ignition button. the scene scares him because he’s never seen you like this, and you get really quiet halfway to the store. he ends up taking you home instead and placing a delivery order. “bath or bed, sweetheart? actually, i think you should take a bath… try to break this fever.” “how do you even know that?” your voice is barely audible, breaking every other syllable as you hold onto him for balance and slip off your sneakers. “just big brother things…” haechan feels uneasy as he helps you undress once the tub is full, lavender bubble bath coating the room in a comforting scent. he sits on the fluffy rug and watches the domes and pockets of bubbles on the water’s surface before his eyes flit back to your face. your lips are chapped. your eyes are puffy and red. he can see every moment of pain - can tell you’re trying to downplay it in his presence. you lay your cheek against his hand that’s resting on the porcelain’s edge, and his heart lurches. you’ll be ok; it’s just the flu; you’ll be ok. the doorbell rings; the grocery order arrived. “two seconds, baby,” and he’s standing up, but you haven’t lifted your head, fast asleep. he grimaces and wakes you, hating the idea of leaving you unconscious in the bathtub. your boyfriend apologizes profusely before jogging to the front door.
♡ jaemin’s been restless all day, distracted by the knowledge of you, sick at home, and him not being there to take care of you. your texts stopped hours ago, and he's hoping all that means is you've been sleeping deeply, dreaming sweetly. for once, he’s the fastest to leave after rehearsals, watching the seoul night life pass by through his car window in neon blurs. his foot taps against the elevator floor, gaze focused on the rising numbers, stopping at 11, and he finally exhales. you’re asleep on the couch, surrounded by medicine and empty mugs, with tea bag strings hanging over their rims. a glass of water with enough left for one more sip sits beside a box of tissues. the trash can from your office is slanted, halfway on the living room rug. there’s a washcloth laid across your forehead. your blanket isn’t long enough to hide your feet; he smiles at the sight of your fuzzy socks covered in tiny teddy bears. the rings you always wear catch his eye where you’re fisting the gray knit. he drops his things and searches through a drawer for the thermometer. he walks across the length of your apartment and crouches in front of you to retrieve the washcloth and run the instrument across your forehead. he coos when the temperature flashes, dropping to a seated position. his touch meets your cheek; his palm smooths back your hair. he stands to his knees to fix the blanket and cover more of your frame. after a soft kiss brushes your forehead, the back pockets of his jeans meet the rug again. jaemin stays like that, right in front of you, close enough to smell the strawberries in your shampoo - close enough to hear the congestion in your exhales, with his cheek against the couch's end until you wake up, prepared for whatever you may need.
♡ chenle’s the slightest bit irritated with you he’s really just concerned because he told you to get your flu shot and you “forgot,” even though he wrote reminders for you and taped them to your fridge, bathroom mirror and front door, but when he finally makes it over and sees you… oh, the man melts. you overhear him on the phone, speaking to his mom while you’re dozing in and out of sleep on the couch. you keep moving from the couch, to your bedroom and back to the living room again because the living room feels cooler, and the view of seoul is more distracting from there. he’s making notes of all her tried and true remedies, constantly bending at the waist to see you clearly through the furniture. you give him little thumbs ups whenever you catch his check ins, but he knows you’re pretending. chenle can see the cloudiness in your eyes.
♡ jisung is beside himself. you called him in the middle of the night, and he had to pull his phone away from his ear to glance at the caller ID because the voice he was hearing sounded nothing like you. when you start to cry, he’s wide awake, switching his lamp on, trying to keep you calm, and reminding you to take deep breaths. “baby, slow down. tell me slowly what’s going on.” it’s kind of crazy how sweetly and assured he shows up for you. it’s like two friends who are both too anxious to wave down the waiter because one of them received the wrong meal, but he speaks up after realizing you’re more scared than he is. that captures his behavior when you’re sick. naver is his best friend for those three days. he texts jaemin and sneaks off to the bathroom to call his mom a few times. he even talks to the doctor on call at the office you go to to verify you shouldn’t come in and writes down all the symptoms to look out for. he apologizes profusely for not making you a better meal—he burned his first attempt, but you don’t care. you’re just full of gratitude that comes out in mouthed words because your voice was gone hours ago. you love the movies he chooses, too. it’s like all of your childhood favorites are also his (they are)
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ ty for reading! i’m trying to bring this blog back to life after such a long, unexpected hiatus :( love & gratitude if you’re still interested in reading my pieces <3
imagine him lighting a candle and brewing tea. imagining his fingers messing with your record player - it took you ages to let him touch it. he had to touch you first, prove he knows what he’s doing. imagine him guiding you to the couch or your bed and getting in first, sitting up with his back against your headboard, inviting you onto his lap. imagine his lips on your skin, on your forehead, on your cheeks, finding your neck and breathing you in. imagine the words he would say when you start pulling away to collect the steaming mug. imagine the caffeine on his tongue - quick wit, dreams he could make come true if you wanted him to. imagine him fixing everything. imagine how scary it would be when you realize all that he can do, all that he can take care of. imagine how easy it would become to crave it, to ask for it, to offer a key that unlocks far more than your front door. imagine letting him in. imagine feeling warmer once you do, feeling sweeter, wondering if you made all of those problems up yourself because they’d be easier to fix than the gaping void in your gut waiting for love. the prickles on your skin awaiting a touch. your eyes waiting to gaze. your hands waiting to clutch. your tongue waiting to ask waiting to beg waiting to wonder and moan and whisper and admit and inquire and become.
sweet and sour: toxic haechan mini series
𓏵 ohmygod HI 😭 i’m back 🖤
𓏵 my drafts are overflowing with toxic haechan texts, so this is one of ??? who knows how many tbh
perhaps it’s time for a haechan smut
i miss this blog. i miss posting texts and blurbs. hopefully, i’ll be back with new pieces soon 🖤🤍
omfg if i lost to him in rock paper scissors and he asked me for aegyo, i would’ve done it on the spot, 100 different kinds, kneeling too…
the idea of haechan always keeping his watch in kst regardless of what city he’s in is poetry to me