Jisung (and Surprise Hoseok!) Arrived Safely Thank You So So Much Miss Cat @luvdsc For Your Kind Letter

jisung (and surprise hoseok!) arrived safely 😊 thank you so so much miss cat @luvdsc for your kind letter and all of the lovely stickers !!! 💞💖💘

ephemeral | l.dh.

e·phem·er·al adj. lasting for a very short time.

pairing: donghyuck x reader

genre: victorian au, fluff, angst, young!donghyuck, young!reader, ft. brother!doyoung and donghyuck’sbrother!taeyong

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none

summary: you make a new friend at a dinner party that your family is attending. there is much in common between the two of you: you love eating biscuits, you love dancing, you love pretending to be stiff-lipped adults when you don’t have a care in the world.

a/n: this was originally a timestamp but then it ended up being really long and well... guess it’s a fic now :’)

“For you, my lady.” Young Donghyuck pretends to bow the way he has been taught, and he holds out a flower to you that looks suspiciously similar to the ones in the planters.

Your response is a “thank you, kind sir” that is stifled by your hands as you accept his gift, giggling as he hands it to you. You spin and your intricate lace dress flares out around you, and Donghyuck laughs when you almost fall over.

The dinner party you both are at is being hosted by a mutual friend of your families. Though this does not mean that your families are on completely good terms with one another, tonight they have at least been able to maintain a sort of cordiality while in each others’ presence.

Donghyuck and you have never met before, not until he noticed you struggling to reach a biscuit from the light snacks table, when he decided that he would help you. His first instinct had been to tell you that your pale pink dress and matching pale pink bow looked nice — it was his go-to at events like this, where there were many people to please and he had to be polite. But when you had turned to him with eyes shining and a cute “thank you”, the words had died in the back of his throat, and all he could do was stammer out a “yes”.

You learned that he was seven years old, like you, and he learned that this was not your first social event, like him. You both had older brothers (Donghyuck had pointed out one of his, Taeyong, from across the room), you both preferred chocolate wafers over vanilla, and you both liked to look at huge chandeliers while standing right underneath them (and every time you did this, your brother Doyoung would come and scoop you up to get you out of the way, as if he was scared it would fall on you).

And, with so many things in common, you wonder why you and Donghyuck have never even seen each other before.

For the time being, you two had been able to escape the watchful eyes of your parents and older brothers. Donghyuck had found the upper corridor and you had followed him eagerly, wanting to get away from the adults. Adults were boring. So was Doyoung, and although you loved him dearly, he could be quite irritable sometimes (especially at fancy parties, where you both were expected to be on your best behavior). It was more difficult for you, since you were never to speak unless spoken to. Until you had met your new friend, you had never talked so much in one night.

“My lady, may I have this dance?” Donghyuck doesn't know how to spin you, so he simply holds up his arm in hopes that you'll spin underneath it by yourself.

“That’s not how you dance, silly!” You twirl and return to your position, with your hands on his shoulders and his hands clutching your dress. (He would never say it out loud, but he's too nervous to touch your waist.)

“It’s an original style,” he says, making you throw your head back as you laugh.

Donghyuck smiles, and once the music downstairs finishes, he touches his lips to the back of your hand just like all the adults do, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when a dance is over.

It’s meant to be lighthearted but to his surprise, you don’t make fun of it. Instead, you blink at him with wide eyes, giggling shyly as you cover your mouth with your tiny hands.

And Hyuck feels strange, some sort of heat blooming across his cheeks as he laughs, kicking a stray pebble that skids on the tiled floor in order to avoid looking you in the eyes.

“Oh —” Your startled tone makes him look up, and he sees that you’re holding your baby-pink ribbon in your hands. It must have come undone while you were dancing. You nervously twist the thin string around your fingers as you make your way over to him. “Um... do you think you could tie it for me? I can’t do it by myself.”

Donghyuck has never even touched a hair ribbon, let alone attempted to tie one. He knows how to make knots, but they aren’t pretty like the way you had the bow in your hair earlier. Not knowing how to start, he simply stands behind you, and after a moment of feeling nothing in your hair, you turn around.

“What’s wrong, Hyuck?”

“I... don’t know how,” he admits. “I’ve never tied a ribbon before.”

“Oh. Well, you should have it, then.” You hold the string out to your friend. “So you can practice!”

“But don’t you need it?”

“We have lots at home! You should keep it instead. Here —” You take his hand and loop the ribbon around his index finger. “I’ll show you.”

“You take the ends and tie a knot,” you begin, “and then you make a circle with one side, and then wrap the other one around the bottom, and then you push this part through.” You carefully tug the ends of the bow into a neat finish, and Donghyuck wonders how you did it so perfectly. He wiggles his index finger to see the ends move, making you smile. “And now you know how to tie it!”

He seems to have a sudden idea and takes your hand in his, pulling you behind him. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“Exploring!”

As he rounds the corner with you, Donghyuck smacks straight into someone else.

“Oh, sor—” He looks up to see who the stranger is, and is met by Doyoung’s harsh glare. “—ry...”

Doyoung cocks his head to see you standing behind the boy, and his expression is surprisingly unreadable. He’s eleven, meaning that you don’t understand anything he does anymore.

“Doie!” you begin excitedly. “This is Donghyuck Lee! He helped me reach the —”

In one swift move, your hand is separated from your friend’s, and you are pulled behind your brother.

“I know who he is,” he says coldly. And to Donghyuck: “Stay away from my sister.”

You protest, trying to grab his arm. “What? But —”

“No.” Shaking you off, Doyoung walks over to your friend, towering above the younger boy in height. “Don’t even think about talking to her again,” he says, jabbing a finger at Hyuck to emphasize his point. “If I catch you looking at her, I’m going to... I’m going to push you!”

“Doie, please!” You stomp on the floor, frustrated. “He’s nice!”

Doyoung walks back over to you and says, “We don’t talk to people —” He lowers his voice. “— like him.”

“Donghyuck!”

From the other end of the corridor, Hyuck’s brother, Taeyong, runs towards the three of you, his dress shoes clacking on the tiles.

“There you are...” And, upon noticing you and Doyoung, he adds, “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother,” Doyoung says, “tried to hurt my sister.”

“That’s not true!” your friend says, but his words work against him.

Taeyong scoffs, crossing his arms. “Oh, please. Tell your stupid sister to stop messing with Donghyuck, then.”

Doyoung gasps, angrily stepping forward. “(Name) is not stupid! And she didn’t do anything!”

“I’m twelve years old. That’s one year older than you, so you can’t tell me what to think.”

“If I ever see him trying to be around her, there will be trouble.”

“Donghyuck would never actually try to be around someone like her.”

“Fine. You believe that. Let’s go, (Name),” he says at last. “And get rid of this ridiculous thing you’re holding.”

Donghyuck’s flower, which had been clutched tightly in your hand for the past few minutes, is suddenly plucked from your grasp and thrown onto the hallway floor. Doyoung prevents you from picking it up, and he takes your wrist and forces you to follow him.

“But Doie —” You cast a glance at your friend. Taeyong has grabbed his brother’s shoulders to prevent him from moving.

“We’re leaving, (Name). I’m telling Mother.” He then notices at the lack of color on the back of your head. “Tsk, and you’ve lost your bow, how irresponsible...”

Donghyuck sees your upset expression as your brother pulls you away, your hand desperately reaching out towards your friend’s. Your eyes plead with him to reach back, but he feels Taeyong’s vice grip on his collar and knows that he shouldn’t. He stays rooted to where he is standing, swallowing as he merely watches.

And you are led out of sight, out of the corridor and into the main building, down the stairs and back to the prim and proper behavior that is expected of you.

“Donghyuck,” Taeyong says, finally releasing him. “Come on.” He walks down the hallway, and the flower the boy had given you earlier is squashed underneath his brother’s pristine shoes. After one last look at the hallway down which you had disappeared, he obeys.

Your pink ribbon flutters in the night breeze, tethered to Donghyuck’s first finger. It’s all he has left of you from tonight, because you, briefly gracing him with your presence, were never to see him again.

[7:23 am]

for you and boyfriend!jisung, holding hands is a big no-no. there’s something about the act that makes both of you kind of nervous — a mix of anticipation and shyness, much like the feeling that comes right before stepping barefoot onto sand wetted by the ocean.

but recently, it’s gotten more and more difficult for jisung to restrain himself from brushing his hand against yours. this morning, as the two of you are walking to school in the winter weather, your hand is just so tiny, dwarfed by your sweater sleeves that fall midway to your fingertips...

as the wind picks up, he notices that you rub your hands together to generate some heat. you breathe on them afterwards, the air around your mouth curling into mist, and you smile.

from behind his coat collar, jisung smiles, too. he finds himself biting his bottom lip to conceal his grin. it’s the little things that make you happy, and it’s the little things about you that jisung loves.

something similar to courage rises in him, and with a burst of impulsiveness, he takes your hand in his, slipping them both into his jacket pocket.

you stare up at him, eyes wide, and he realizes that he may have just made a terrible mistake. “oh —” he begins to pull your hand out, embarrassed that he didn’t think things through. “but if you don’t want to — sorry, i forgot to ask —”

“no, no it’s okay.” you keep your hand in his pocket, allowing the heat of the fabric to warm your fingers. “thank you.”

“well —” he stammers out a bad excuse. “um, you looked cold.”

the general positioning of your arms forces you to walk more closely next to each other, shoulders bumping occasionally. the two of you slow to a stop, waiting to cross an intersection, and jisung uses that pause to spare a glance at you.

you’re trying to see your breath again, exhaling in small puffs that creates fog in the air in front of you. after one particularly clear breath of mist, you catch his eye, grinning proudly as if to say, yes, i did that, and you give his hand a small squeeze, lacing your fingers with his.

jisung has to look away so you don’t see him smiling like an idiot. the winter chill blows over his face, and the redness from his nose spreads across his cheeks, all the way to his ears.

but if anyone asks about it, at least he can blame it on the cold.

when you’re trying to focus and get work done but there’s only neomu banjjak banjjak nuni busheo no no no no noooo

❝and we start from here… our home.❞

WE’RE GETTING NCT 2020 FOR DREAM, 127, AND WAYV I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS OH MY GOD