#huang renjun angst

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Soulmatch™ — App-grade your love life!

(new picture bc this is the renjun i imagined in this)

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: smut, humor, fluff, angst, strangers to enemies to lovers...?, non-idol!AU

characters: huang renjun, f!reader, best friend!jaemin, best friend!haechan, friend!chenle, renjun's parents

word count: 24.807 words (oh my god)

general warnings: mentions of cheating, men being dudes and dudes being bros, lack of communication, haechan is a milf hunter, trust issues, insecurities regarding relationships, hook ups, smoking, alcohol, mentions of vomit (nothing graphic or detailed, literally just the word), mentions of erectile dysfunction (???), emotional manipulation..? past na jaemin x reader, implied past huang renjun x wong yukhei / lucas, toxic masculinity, daddy issues, haechan and jaemin talk very vulgarly and do not know boundaries, mentions of virginity, crying, heartbreak, author makes use of their limited knowledge of tarot.

smut warnings: ...hate sex...?, unprotected sex (nuh-uh!), fingering and brief oral (f receiving), face-fucking, switch!renjun, switch!reader (?), pet names, a lot of imagining sex, brief choking, mentions of anal, creampie.

synopsis: Renjun is a hopeless romantic, his goal is to meet his perfect match by the end of the year, maybe even his soulmate. The perfect solution: an experiment for finding love through an app. Renjun doesn't care who it is, as long as they're a perfect match, he thinks. But then you show up...

a/n: i really love this so much. it's a bit different from what i usually do bc it has a real storyline! it's complicated (not really)! i really poured my heart and soul into this. i love renjun so much. argh! also, why do my endings always feel rushed???? help???

taglist: @she-is-dreaming @nctzennikki09 @babyjenono @noonaisreading

"Why the fuck do they need information on my favorite toys from ages five to ten?" Renjun groans, rubbing his temples before quickly grabbing ahold of his phone to facetime his mother. The ringing sound of his phone had always managed to annoy him, and he wonders whether there'd be a section in the forms where he could put that down.

Staring at himself on his screen, he fixes his brown hair. It had gotten quiet long over the past few weeks since his last haircut. Admittedly, he hasn't had the energy to leave the house, really, thankful for his freelancer job that allows him to work from the confines of his own four walls. Although, he'd thought about growing his hair out anyway.

Finally, his mother answers the phone.

"No, it's Renjun... No, turn the TV down! Down! Lower the volume," his mother shouts, not at him, but at what he could only assume is his father, judging by the Jackie Chan movie playing in the background, that after all these years, he can identify by the sounds only.

"Hello, Junnie," his mother finally addresses him, a gentle smile on her face, a harsh contrast to the annoyed frown she'd thrown at her husband earlier.

"Hey, mom," Renjun says, tapping on his own video so it would fill the screen instead of his mother's.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine. Uh, listen. Do you remember which toys I liked when I was 5?" Renjun finally lets his hair fan over his forehead in peace, getting frustrated that it's not staying in the exact place he wants it to. He's only talking to his mother anyway. That woman'd wiped his ass a few years back, so why bother.

"What an odd question," she grins, briefly getting distracted by something happening behind her phone which she shoos away with her hand and a tight lipped frown that disappears as soon as he lays her eyes back on her son.

"I just need to know. It's really important."

"Okay, let me think. I believe you liked this one thing- this squishy" – her hand squishes the air in front of her phone – "what is it called?"

Renjun can hear his father's voice from behind the phone, "what? Plushie?"

"Yes! You had a plushie that you really liked!"

"A plushie..." Renjun mumbles, filling the letters into the field, "what color?"

"It was a cow."

"So black and white?"

"Those are the usual cow colors."

"Okay. And when I was six?"

"Honey, what do you need this for? Is it still this love calculator thing? You know I read that article about it online-" His mother raises her brows in concern.

"Yes, but I didn't want to say it, because-" Renjun's words get cut off by his father's obnoxiously loud voice as he yanks the phone from his mother's hands, his big head coming into view and Renjun has to immediately roll his eyes.

"That's nonsense, son, and you know it. Anyway, when will you come by again? I bought steak. You know no one can make steak like I do!"

"Yes, I know. I won't be able to make it any time soon, though." Renjun sighs, fingers fiddling with a loose string sneaking its way out of the couch cushion.

"What if I told you we had some fine wine?" – "Stop dragging our son into alcoholism," Renjun's mom finally wins the phone back, but Renjun can still hear his dad's laugh in the background.

Renjun huffs. "So? Year six?"

"Honey, I'm really not sure. You've had a fire truck phase, then enjoyed dinosaurs, then couldn't get enough of those collectable horses. You were a very diverse kid with so many different interests. I don't think you can categorize that or sort it into years. Just say that you liked all kinds of toys–"

"Even girls' toys!" His father laughs.

"Alright," Renjun sighs, pressing his lips tightly together before wishing his mother a good night and ending the call.

"All kinds of toys..." Renjun mutters to no one but himself as he types his answer into the box, shaking his head. He's been filling out these forms for days on end, and slowly he starts believing his parents' words that it's just nonsense.

But it is his only hope.

_____

"A what for what?" Donghyuck asks, mouth as full of burger as Renjun's own, hence why he couldn't understand him the first time. Renjun holds up his hand, chews aggressively, then swallows hard.

"An experiment for finding love," he explains a second time, and the crease in between Donghyuck's eyebrows only seems to be getting deeper with every word that leaves Renjun's lips.

"What the fuck is that?" Donghyuck asks (assumingely, Renjun still can't understand him over the huge bite of patty and bun inside of his mouth).

"You give a whole bunch of information about yourself to the scientists, and they use some software to find your ideal partner," Renjun explains briefly. There's a bit more to it than just that, but he doesn't want to overwhelm Donghyuck's brain while he's eating.

"Pff, okay?" Donghyuck says, a few crumbs of- whatever that had been only mere seconds ago flying out of his mouth and directly onto Renjun's forearm. The older contorts his face in utter disgust, shaking the sticky pieces of food off of his skin.

"You're a pig, Donghyuck," Renjun states, wiping the spot with his napkin because he can still feel Donghyuck's saliva on himself.

"I might be a pig, but at least I got game." Donghyuck finally swallows, grinning proudly with a small piece of lettuce stuck in between his teeth which Renjun has yet to decide telling him about after that insult.

"You don't have 'game'," Renjun spits, fingers motioning quotation marks, "you just have low standards. You'd fuck everything that bends over in front of you."

"That is not true!"

"Need I remind you of what happened with Chenle's mom?"

"She is a milf!" Donghyuck whines, letting his hands weakly fall down onto the table.

"Whatever." Renjun sighs. "Point is: I'm not lacking game, I just want to wait for the right person."

"Alright, two explanations, same outcome: your dick is dry as fuck," Donghyuck nods, pointing his fry at Renjun before he drags it through his vanilla milkshake and stuffs his mouth with it. Renjun presses his lips together, frowning slightly as he imagines the taste of that. "So when are you getting banged?"

"I don't want to get banged, Hyuck," Renjun answers, fingers coming up to rub at his temples. He knows he's lying, Donghyuck knows he's lying, so why did he lie? "There is more to it than sticking my dick up a hole."

"Just any hole? You didn't specify that it should be a pussy?" Donghyuck's eyes widen and he stops his motions. Renjun watches anxiously what a large amount of time Donghyuck's been holding a new fry into his milkshake for.

"I didn't. I don't care."

"You'd shag a dude?!" Donghyuck's shrill voice attracts the eyes of several people sitting around them.

"I don't know why you needed to let everybody know about that," Renjun say through gritted teeth, "but yes. I don't mind."

"I didn't know you were bi," Donghyuck finally sucks the fry into his mouth, then cleans his fingers with his tongue.

"I'm pan."

"Same thing."

Renjun opens his mouth to protest, but he's honestly a little drained to dispute with Donghyuck right now. Wow, what has he become...

"So, when are you finding real love, then?" Donghyuck tries again, empathically sensing that he just scratched at Renjun's teasing-limits and should therefore tone it down a little before he loses a friend.

"I finished filling out the forms a couple of days ago. They have to analyze it and then find someone in their data base. I'm not sure how long it's going to take," Renjun explains, losing a tad of hope with every word at the realization. It's probably going to take forever.

"Okay, then what do you say: one last time going out on pussy hunt with the boys?"

_____

Renjun realizes that this is not one of his proudest moments as he stands leaned against the bar. On the outside, he might look cool and relaxed (or at least that's what he strives for), but he's honestly close to being shit-faced and needs the bar for not losing his balance. Admittedly, it's been some time since Renjun's last time out and he's been a bit nervous.

"This is great, huh?" Chenle says next to him, cool as ever as he leans his back against the bar, keeping his balance with only his forearms. Renjun envies him.

"Totally," Renjun retorts sarcastically, but Chenle doesn't seem to pick up on it.

His other friends had already abandoned him, always with a dirty grin as they got dragged away by a pretty girl. Renjun just can't get behind this whole thing of hook-up culture. Why would you want that when you could- never mind, Renjun understands why people hook up. He really shouldn't judge other people when he's the one who signed up for a love experiment.

"So I heard this is going to be your last time going out with us?" Chenle asks, then takes a sip from his beer bottle. Renjun likes hanging out with Chenle, but the younger's busy schedule doesn't offer much time for friend activities. Chenle is generally laid back and doesn't judge others. Well, not really, he just likes to tease, but generally speaking, he is a good person to open up to.

"Yeah," Renjun answers shortly, not in the right state for a long conversation.

"Because of that love app?" Chenle asks, and Renjun briefly looks over at him to see a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," Renjun repeats in defeat.

"I think it's cool," Chenle says, corners of his mouth turning downwards making him look impressed, but Renjun doesn't seem convinced. "You know, real love. It's rare these days, I think it's admirable. Really."

"Thank you," Renjun says, a gentle smile on his lips. "Hyuck's been teasing me a lot for it, but I just.. don't like this hook-up culture. I want to settle down."

"I get you, man." Chenle nods, clinking his beer bottle with Renjun's glass that contains the last few drops of a cocktail, then empties his bottle. As if on command, a girl leans against the bar next to him, whispers something into his ear while tugging at his sleeve. A grin forms on Chenle's face before he turns to Renjun.

"Sorry, gotta go. She says she needs Daddy." Chenle winks at Renjun who gives him a combination of a genuine chuckle and an awkward smile in return, then waves at Chenle's figure getting dragged towards the restrooms.

Renjun sighs, then his eyes scan the crowd. It's stuffy, the fog machine on a too high setting making it hard to even make out faces. It also feels hot, no wonder considering the amount of bodies dancing and sweating to the sound of the music, and the entire atmosphere feels too uncomfortable to find someone he could- sleep with. All of his friends are gone anyway, there's no way they could check if he got with someone or not. Sighing once again in defeat, Renjun decides to call it a night. He steadies himself, then tumbles over to the door, pushing it open to be hit by cool air. He immediately feels like he's drank 2 glasses of alcohol less than he actually did.

"Cigarette?"

_____

"This is not something I want to brag about," Renjun says the noon after, his butt placed on a chair in Donghyuck and Jaemin's man cave. It's actually just their shared home, but judging by the looks and smell of it, Renjun cannot not call it a man cave.

"Couldn't get it up?" Jaemin asks, an understanding nod moving his head. The younger looks messed up, respectfully, his hair tousled and eyes still not completely adjusted to being awake, the size of the cup of coffee in his hands an indicator of how he's feeling right now. Donghyuck really doesn't look any better, his body leaned over the table with his forearms supporting his weight.

"What? No!" Renjun shakes his head with a frown. He really loves his friends, but sometimes he wonders why he's even friends with them.

"Did you puke on her?" Donghyuck covers his mouth with his hand. Yeah, Renjun wonders in times like these.

"No."

"Did she puke on you?"

"No! There was no vomit involved," Renjun explains, eyes widened in alarm. This conversation slowly but surely makes him wonder how his friends' hook-ups tend to go... not that he wants to know, considering all this talk about throwing up.

"Then why are you not sharing every single detail?" Jaemin grins, scooting his chair closer to Renjun until he's uncomfortably pressed up against his cheek, reeking like coffee and sleep.

"Because..." Renjun frowns in defeat. "Because she was gone this morning."

"And? What, are your balls itchy?" Donghyuck raises his brows.

"What? Why would my balls be itchy?" Renjun whines, finally peeling his cheek away from Jaemin. "She didn't give me an STD, nor an UTI. W-we used a condom, I think."

"You think?" Donghyuck laughs, straightening his back from being leaned over the table for too long. "Did our Renjunnie hit it raw?"

"Honestly, I don't know why we're talking about this?"

"Did her pussy grip you too tightly to pull out?" Jaemin asks, nodding understandingly while padding his shoulder, "happens to the best of us."

"You're a maker, Renjun," Donghyuck adds.

"First of all, I don't know what that means. Second of all: the sex was fine! Great even-" Renjun tries to defend himself and his hook-up, even though he's not entirely sure why, considering she, well, left without a trace.

"Did she smell good?"

"What, her vagina?"

"Everything."

"Uh- yes? She used perfume, and everything else smelled healthy, I guess. But what I'm trying to say is-"

"Jaemin you bastard! You really have a problem, fucking panty sniffer!" Donghyuck laughs loudly, making Renjun instantly aware of his own hangover.

"Sue me," Jaemin leans back grinning, hands coming up in faux defense.

"It bothers me that she snuck out without even saying anything!" Renjun shouts, palm coming down on the table top with such force that both of his friends jump. It goes silent for a while until Donghyuck opens his mouth once again.

"I understand, man." He leans forwards, placing a palm on Renjun's shoulder. "That was really disrespectful of her." "Not cool," Jaemin chimes in supportively. "But look on the bright side: you'll never have to see her again."

"I guess that's true," Renjun mumbles, "but-"

"But?"

Hesitantly, Renjun looks into Jaemin's face, then into Donghyuck's. "It was really good."

Chaos breaks loose, both of them cheering loudly. Donghyuck begins laughing until his knees hit the floor – an impressive action considering the amount of alcohol his system has to fight – and even Renjun manages to crack a smile.

_____

"Jun, you might wanna see this," Donghyuck proposes hesitantly from the other room. Renjun, already annoyed about having to make his way all over to the living room and abandoning his brewing tea, sighs. What in the world could be important enough to summon him from the kitchen?

"Can't it wait?"

"Believe me when I say you might wanna see this."

Renjun aggressively throws his hands in the air for no one to see, he can't live in peace for even a second with this guy. Still, he stomps over, standing in the door frame with furrowed brows and crossed arms. "I swear if this is some stupid shit again-"

"It's your dating app."

Renjun rolls his eyes, "they've been sending useless messages for the past four months, I don't fucking care."

"It says they found a match." Donghyuck finally looks up from Renjun's phone, eyes wide and mouth shaped into an 'o' form. Renjun's own eyes bulge out at the preposition. "What?!"

He stumbles over, ripping the device from Donghyuck's fingers and holds it close to his face. Indeed, there's the notification. They found them. They found someone!

"Man you should really get your eyes checked if this is how-"

"Shut the fuck up, I'm the happiest man alive!" Renjun beams, smacking Donghyuck in the back of his head without lifting his gaze from the screen. Donghyuck mewls, and it sounds a little too much like a moan, but everybody knows Donghyuck is a little pain slut, so Renjun pays him no mind.

Renjun instead klicks on the notification, the application he hasn't visited in over half a year popping up slowly. There it is. The moment Renjun had anticipated for such a long time. He's a little disappointed that he can't visit this person's profile or anything, but he quickly forgets about it as his eyes land on a button that spells: 'send an invitation'.

"Hyuck, you have to go," Renjun announces, causing Donghyuck to lift his head, gaze drifting away from his own phone screen to look at Renjun perplexed.

"Eh?"

"Leave! I have to get ready," Renjun whines, peeling Donghyuck off of his couch by his wrist. Donghyuck complies balky, but lets himself get pushed out of the front door that Renjun closes in his face immediately, then rushes into the bathroom.

The invitation was sent for tonight, 8 pm. That means he has four hours to get himself and this shit hole he calls his home ready, and the task seems nearly impossible. That is until he finds himself, embarrassingly out of breath, ruffling his hair one last time in front of the mirror by the front door before the doorbell rings. He made it just in time.

His hands shake as he presses the button that opens the door, and a little harder even as he grips the handle to open the door to his apartment.

"Get a grip," he tells himself quietly, then puts on a smile as he listens to the footsteps climbing the staircases. His heart beats rapidly against his ribcage as his eyes focus on where is soulmate is going to appear in the next few seconds.

There, a foot comes into sight, followed by...

"You?!"

Silence.

"Hi?"

"I'm gonna need a minute-"

After splashing cold water in his face in the bathroom and pulling himself together, Renjun comes back to find you sitting on his couch, looking a little nervous, but generally contained and not as bothered by this disaster as Renjun. Sitting down, Renjun watches the arms move slowly over the face of his antique clock that with every passing second omits an obnoxiously loud ticking sound that is only overshadowed by the thick tension hanging in the air. Every once in a while, his gaze traces your form on the farthest end of Renjun's couch, staring blankly at the wall.

"Why did you sneak out?" Renjun puts his thoughts into words, eyebrows scrunched together in a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"It was just a hook-up," you turn your head to whine at him, "I don't know why you're making a big deal out of this?"

"Because it-" Renjun starts, but then decides that he'd much rather not appear pathetic in front of you for moaning about that being his last sexual encounter before formally agreeing to wait for the one.

"Alright," you sigh after a while, "I'm sorry, alright?"

Renjun clears his throat and nods, "okay. Thank you."

"I'd much rather talk about the important things right now," you say, turning your entire body to sit cross-legged on the couch facing Renjun. You take a deep breath before opening your mouth again. "I'm just going to say what everyone here is thinking: the app obviously made a mistake."

Renjun's eyebrows fly upwards as he blinks once, very slowly, "excuse me?"

"Yeah. I mean, no offense, but you're obviously a softie! And I like tall men,-"

"I don't think I'm getting this right, you fucked me before?!"

"Yeah, it was fine for a night, but-"

"And why am I a softie- or, first of all, why is that bad? We both did the experiment, we're both looking for a perfect match, or am I wrong?" Renjun did not even notice getting up from his place on the sofa, or when he started pointing an accusing finger at you.

"I don't know, you take it so serious-"

"And you're being a real bitch right now." Renjun furrows his brows even further as you get up as well to stand right in front of him, your pointer finger pushing into his chest.

"I do not appreciate you calling me that."

"I have done nothing wrong, I cleaned this whole place, and even when I realized that it had to be you, of all people, I was willing to work with it, but right now, I just want to..."

Renjun realizes how close you are to him right now, he can smell your perfume, the same scent you'd worn the other night. Even if it was whole while ago, he still remembers the dusty note that now once again tickles his nostrils, immediately taking him back to that night.

"...kiss you."

Renjun hasn't even closed his mouth before your lips press against his, your passion wild and untamed as your bodies press closer, your hands immediately going to his hair, gently pulling so it stings at his scalp as Renjun's own hands roam over your form to settle on your waist and ass.

His head is clouded, his mind hazy with the feeling of you against him. He's a little embarrassed of your affect on him, immediately growing hard in his pants as soon as you hump yourself against him, content sighs flowing from his mouth into yours.

It's hectic, hands touching everywhere at once all of a sudden, fingers clutching clothing in an attempt to rid the other of them, limbs tangling as Renjun moves the both of you to the nearby bedroom.

You somehow manage to peel yourselves out of your clothes, Renjun can feel how wet you are for him, and though he's so focused on only you, he can't help but comment spitefully, "you prefer tall men, huh?"

"Fuck you," you gasp before kissing him again, and Renjun does not quite know how to feel about this, maybe it's bad, maybe it's good, but he assumes that this type of behavior should not make his tummy fill with butterflies. It still does.

Renjun lines himself up with your hole, then thrusts forward. He doesn't take his time to prep you like last time, he finds that if you want to act like a bitch, you should be treated like one. He's also very perplexed that he's thinking like this, he never has, but he guesses you bring this side out in him.

You cry out in pure bliss as he stretches your walls that are struggling to take his size, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure. Renjun's thrusts are quick and hard, ramming his tip against your spot in a way that makes you see stars and your thighs shiver around his waist.

Your orgasm approaches fast, almost embarrassingly fast considering you made such a fuss earlier, Renjun admits to himself, feeling proud as he pushes you over the edge with ease. The moans tumbling from your lips are nothing short of pornographic, and Renjun does not have it in him to shut you up for the sake of his neighbors.

Instead, he pulls out, then quickly replaces his cock with his fingers, pressing them upwards repeatedly to tickle another quick high out of you. His eyes are on you the entire time while yours are closed, assumingely overwhelmed with how good he's making you feel.

Once you writhe from overstimulation, Renjun removes his fingers as well, licking a fat stripe over your cunt before turning you around and pressing your face into the sheets.

"I'll show you how much of a softie I can be," he grunts before pushing in once again, his hand pressing against the back of your head as he crashes his hips into yours with such force that the bed frame penetrates imprints into his wall. Your moans are muffled, and Renjun decides that he'd much rather have his neighbors hear how good of a fuck he is, so he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you up.

"Oh God," you whine, back arching beautifully to take even more of him, and Renjun suppresses a coy grin at the fact that he's able to destroy you that easily.

"Hm? Not so soft now, huh?"

"I'm gonna cum again-" you announce, hands gripping the sheets as you try to ground yourself, to just take and take and take what Renjun gives you, and soon after he can feel you clench around him as another orgasm takes over you, leaving you weak and shaky.

"Too much?"

You shake your head, but Renjun pulls out nevertheless. "Get on your knees, I want you to suck me off."

Never in his life has Renjun seen someone hurry off a bed so eagerly. You open your mouth compliantly, like a well trained slut, and Renjun can simply push his cock between your lips and fuck your mouth. "Tap my leg when I should stop."

You nod quickly, then relax your jaw for him to use you. Renjun loves this sight of you. He remembers what you looked like when you came over, with pretty makeup and perfectly styled hair – and now everything's ruined, your hair messy and tangled, your makeup smudged by a mixture of tears and spit. Renjun loves how hazily your eyelids flutter as you try to look up at him, eyes seemingly focussing and un-focussing, more tears welling up in your eyes before they trickle down your cheeks, spit coating your chin as you gag a little.

Renjun believes he could get used to this.

_____

The sun tickling the tip of his nose is what wakes him up the next morning. With a groan, he tries to adjust his eyes to the bright light shining into his bedroom – the downside of having a bedroom that faces east. Once he realizes where he is, the memories of last night come flying back to him. He has to find his arms to be much emptier than when he went to bed the night before. He sighs, a hand coming up to run over his face. Honestly, he didn't even have to check the rest of his home to know that you snuck out again.

A mug filled with coffee in hand, Renjun lets out a shaky sigh. It stings, he's not going to lie, but maybe you have your reasons, maybe something came up, maybe you need time to think. Or maybe you just hate him and only want to use his desperate state of romanticism and body for your selfish nature.

This assumption is neither proven to be false nor correct when his doorbell rings a couple of months later. In the meantime, Renjun had done nothing but sulk, try to pull himself together, work non-stop to get you out of his mind, realized it's not working and went back to sulking, then the cycle repeated itself. He hadn't even updated his friends about the encounter for a lack of energy, basically. His apartment is a mess, empty to half-empty boxes of takeout littered all over the place, bottles with a last sip left left and right that Renjun trips over every few hours only to curse loudly and do nothing to clean them up afterwards. Basically, he's living like Donghyuck and Jaemin right now.

His feet drag him to the door. "Hello?"

"They're threatening me."

Renjun, without even having heard it twice through the speaker, recognizes your voice immediately. And before he knows it, his finger presses the button that opens the door with a buzzing sound. He curses at himself, panic arising as he listens to your heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs to his apartment. Once you step into sight, Renjun loses his ability to talk. Why do you have to look gorgeous? Why does he want to get on his knees and eat you out immediately? Why is he so weak?

You take fast steps and invite yourself into Renjun's home as he does nothing but take a few careful steps back. You then lock the door as you check the hallway behind the door through the peephole for any potential threats.

"Who?" Renjun finally gets out.

"The app developers," you mumble before retrieving from the door.

"Why?"

"They know I left, now they keep threatening me."

"I doubt that," Renjun frowns.

"Look!" You push your phone into his hands. Renjun curiously scans the last notifications the app sent you.

How did it go? Did you find your soulmate with us? Please rate us in the app store.

Hey! We found your soulmate! Now all you need to do is rate this experience.

Your soulmate is happy to have you. Thank you for working with us, please leave a rating in the app store.

Rate your love experience now!

Renjun snorts.

"What?" You watch him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

"These are hardly threats."

"They just keep coming, this has to be a threat. Haven't you gotten any?"

"I don't know, I don't have the app anymore," Renjun mumbles.

"Right..." you say, finally taking a first look around the place. "And what happened here?"

"Stop judging me!" Renjun turns his back to you while crossing his arms. Of course he hadn't had the time to deep clean his apartment when he was busy sulking and writhing in self-pity for the past months. And, to be fair, it was all your fault!

"Alright, maybe they're not threats, per-se. They still made me feel bad..."

"Oh?" Renjun turns back around, eyebrows raised. "It has a heart?"

"Ha-ha," you deadpan, but Renjun can't suppress a smile as he makes his way over to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink, and you kicking your shoes off, and then following him on track like a lost puppy.

Renjun opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of the fruity water he's prepared a few hours ago (not because he felt like it, only because he was afraid the remaining fruit his mom brought over because she coincidentally happened to be in town a few days ago would go bad if he didn't use them). He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a refreshing sip.

You watch him set the glass down on the counter. "Aren't you going to ask me if I want something?"

With a hint of playfulness that he does not want to give away under any circumstances, Renjun scoffs, "yeah, as if I'm going to be nice to you after the stunt you pulled. Twice." Renjun holds up two of his fingers to highlight his words.

Your brows furrow as you open your mouth to complain, but you must have realized he's right, so you shut it again, turning into a cute pout instead. "I'm sorry. It's just- it's hard-" You give up and press your lips together tightly. "Can we- start over?"

"Oh? From what point?" Renjun raises his brows, lifting his hand to count with his fingers, "when you abandoned me the first time? When you insulted me? Or when I fucked you so good you couldn't stop drooling on the sheets?" He smiles in victory at your shocked expression. "To which I could also add: the first or the second time." He wiggles two fingers in front of your face with a smug smirk.

"I wish I could say this behavior of yours irritates me to the point where I just want to give up, but you're kind of hot looking all messed up and heart-broken because of me while sporting that victorious grin," you say and step towards him.

"Ah, really?" Renjun's confident shell starts to crumble.

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" You stop right in front of him, and Renjun has to press his ass against the counter to keep that little distance that allows him to breathe. Amused, the corner of your mouth twitches, then you extend your hand as your gaze bores into his.

"Hi, my name is ____ and I would love to suck your cock."

Renjun hates the way his breath hitches as he carefully shakes your hand for a reason he is not aware of. "I-I'm Renjun," he simply says, and the playful smirk on your face widens as you pull your hand out of his to lay atop of the waistband of his sweatpants. Renjun hates it even more that he feels his blood that just milliseconds ago thumbed through his ears now rushing downwards awakening his cock.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" Your voice is bittersweet as you bat your lashes at Renjun who gulps before breathing out a "yeah".

You smile, fingers untying his sweatpants before you push your hand inside to feel him up. "So hard, all for me? What a good boy you are, Renjun."

Renjun bites down on his lip, face contorting in pleasure as he feels you feel him up and down, his hips push forward involuntarily. Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just be- less enticing, less hot, less able to turn his brain to complete mush every time he sees you? Renjun knows where this is going, you're going to give him the best, most amazing, jaw-dropping, eye-rolling, toe-curling head of his life, and then you're going to walk out that door as if there aren't still drops of Renjun's cum trickling down your esophagus.

Just as your hands leave the inside of his pants to pull them down his legs, Renjun grabs ahold of your wrists. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"No," Renjun catches your gaze that holds a whole lot of insecurities in them, or so he assumes. "I am not letting you touch me until I know you won't leave me again."

The look in your eyes tells him that something about this interaction hit a nerve very deep down, so he tries to lighten the mood with a light joke and a careful smile. "At least take me out on a date before you use me."

Jackpot, he realizes, as you scoff and pull your wrists from his grasp. "Alrighty then, what do you want to eat?"

_____

The wideness of his eyes expands exponentially with every word you tell the guy behind the counter of the nearest Subway who prepares your sandwich. He could mouth along your order because, even up until the sauce, it's identical with his. Hence, all he tells the guy once he's finished is "the same". You seem not to notice – or care – and the quick walk back home is quiet despite the tornados of thoughts winding through Renjun's mind. Is this how the app worked? Match people with similar taste in food? Though he doesn't remember putting his Subway order in when submitting his forms.

Arriving at home, you ask Renjun to put on a show to watch while eating, and when he plays his all time favorite, Modern Family, you announce that that's your favorite as well.

Renjun watches, half in awe and half scared for his life, as you practically inhale the foot-long sandwich in front of his eyes, and he feels his heart thumb just a little faster seeing you all domestic like this; not dolled up, and not with his cum dripping from some part of your body, just you being you. Apparently, he likes you more than he likes to admit, he's afraid.

"I think I'm going to delete that app as well," you announce as you wipe the remaining sauce and crumbs from the corners of your mouth.

"How so?"

"I have you now, don't I?" You shrug, placing your plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. Renjun's heart jumps at your words, then sighs and happily sinks deeper into the comfort of his chest.

"Does that mean- I mean-" But he is shushed by your finger pressing against his lips, that makes his eyes widen.

"Shh, baby boy, don't ruin it." You say, then get up.

"Where are you going?"

"Will you calm down? I just want to pee!" You whine, then march off towards his bathroom, and Renjun wants to punch himself in the face for watching you go with a smitten gaze, but he can't help staring. You're just too gorgeous. He loves the way you're so relaxed and funny, sighing lovingly as he admires your beauty coming back from the restroom to sit down next to him with a thud and a weirded out expression on your face.

"Why are you looking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I just took your virginity in a field of dandelions."

"I am not!"

"Whatever. Can we fuck now?"

The little hearts circling around Renjun's heart – metaphorically – shatter. "Are you being serious?"

"I hate to admit this too, but you're pretty good at what you're doing."

"I am more than just a toy for you to use!" Renjun argues, setting his plate down on the coffee table next to yours. Anger is visibly written all over his face, and you seem to finally get the hint that he's serious about this.

"Alright, then. What do you wanna do instead? Cuddle?!" You suggest, and although it does not seem like this is a legitimate offer, Renjun takes it.

"Yeah, for example!"

And that's how your back ends up pressed to his front as you watch TV, not without a last roll of your eyes, of course, and while Renjun affectionately plays with your hair, he has time to relish in the feeling of being loved for the first time since forever, even if he had to threaten you with deprivation of sex. Later, you even fall asleep in his arms, in his bed, and when he wakes up the next morning, you are snoring soundly besides him.

_____

"Do you want to meet my friends?" Renjun asks casually over the steam evaporating from the hot coffee mugs on the breakfast table. You have half a Baozi in your mouth, and Renjun can only guess your next words as they come out.

"What? Why? Are we getting married?" He assumes you say.

"No, I just thought, you know, since things were getting serious-"

"We are?!" You muffle with wide eyes.

Over the past days that you'd spent at Renjun's place without missing a single day (except for the 4 hours when you went to get your stuff... 4 hours that drove Renjun insane with fear that you wouldn't return), Renjun kind of started to wonder what it is that you're doing for a living that you can just disappear like that without anyone wondering where you are, but he noticed that you do not like to talk much about yourself. All he knows that your interests and taste are, quite frankly, scarily similar to his own. He assumes that you are just careful when it comes to opening up to people, so he is more than thrilled when he finds you next to him every single morning and decides that there will be a time and place for you to bond over deep talk.

"Calm down, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that we've been hanging out a lot and I think it would be... fun?" Renjun suggests carefully. A weight lifts off his heart as your wide eyes shrink back to their normal size and you take your time to chew and swallow before your answer.

"Okay." And then you stuff the other half of the steamed bun into your mouth.

"Great! I'll text them!"

"Today?!"

"We really have to stop talking about this while we eat."

"It's okay, do it whenever, honestly." But only muffled sounds and a few crumbs come out.

"What?"

You roll your eyes dramatically, then point yourself.

"You?"

You nod, then point to Renjun. "Me?"

Then you squiggle your pointer and forefinger in a way that resembles a pair of legs – "go?" – you nod, then point downwards – "here?" – you shake your head – "today?" – you nod frantically and press your pointer finger to your thumb – "okay?"

You finally swallow. "Man, I said it's okay if we go today."

"That was absolutely unnecessary. Now go get ready, I'll text them."

_____

"Where is your other half?"

"Probably inside of someone," Donghyuck says about the lack of Jaemin at the table, but his eyes are intensely focused on you. You on the other hand seem to have found great interest in your fingernails and refuse to take your eyes off of them. "Yo, is she shy or something?"

"I'm not," you say, your eyes snapping up to gaze at Donghyuck who looks a little taken aback. You smile sweetly, then reach over the table to shake his hand. "I'm sorry, I was just a little distracted. Hey, I'm the girl that Renjun fucks."

Renjun chokes on his own spit, and Donghyuck snorts loudly. You lean against the backrest of the McDonald's seat and grab Renjun's hand to hold. Renjun, finally recovered from his near-death-experience, can't believe what's happening as his eyes zone in to where your fingers intertwine with his. It even makes him miss that that was a complete lie since the no-sex-until-i-know-you-won't-leave-thing is still on the table.

"So, how is he? In bed, I mean?" Donghyuck folds his hands beneath his chin and leans forward interestedly.

"Oh, he's great, really! He doesn't look like it, but he has a lot of stamina. And, to be fair, he's not the biggest, but it gets the job done nicely, I especially love it when he-"

"Can we not talk about my dick in a McDonald's?! Please?!"

"Oop, looks like we hit a sore spot-" Donghyuck remarks.

"I am not insecure about- you know what? Fuck you. Go get the food, it's ready," Renjun snaps and pushes the receipt with the pick up number on it into Donghyuck's hand who throws you another knowing look before strolling off to get the food.

"I will not apologize for-"

"You're holding my hand," Renjun states.

"What?" Your eyebrows contort in confusion.

"My hand, you're holding it," Renjun says, lifting both of your hands into your line of sight to prove his point.

"Yeah, so?"

"I like that."

A genuine smile spreads over your face and you bite your lip, maybe to suppress it, but Renjun saw it, and look down at your lap. Donghyuck appears again, tray in hand, and Renjun would've missed your quiet whisper of "he likes that" if his entire world wasn't revolving around you right now.

"What are we talking about?" Donghyuck grins as he slides back onto his seat, immediately pulling a fry out of the box and dunking it in his milkshake. Renjun, still in awe that you're holding his hand, immediately notices how your face contorts in disgust.

"Why the fuck are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Dipping your fry."

Renjun watches with heart-shaped eyes how Donghyuck's mouth opens and closes for a lack of a proper response, because – shit – that is exactly what he's been thinking for the past five years.

"Because I like it?"

"Alright," you shrug, then attend to your cheeseburger. Renjun mirrors your action, lifting the top half of the bun to peel the single slice of pickle off the surface before sticking the burger back together, not noticing how you do the exact same thing until Donghyuck points it out.

"So? That's what it's like when you found a match. Another great advantage is having only one partner whom you engage in sexual activities with. Ah, by the way, how is your itchy sack?"

"Good one, babe," you compliment as Donghyuck's face falls onto his BigMac, and Renjun could not feel any better at that exact moment.

"Sorry I'm late!" The voice of no other than Na Jaemin appears behind Renjun only to reveal said man seconds later as he flops down next to Donghyuck, forcing him to squeeze further against the wall. Donghyuck complains, but no one pays him any mind.

A heavy grin adorns Jaemin's face, an expression Renjun's grown to know like the back of his own hand over the past years. Jaemin's post orgasm glow is so bright and blinding that Renjun's sure he must have just gotten a blowjob in the McDonald's bathroom. His tongue slurps parts of his McFlurry off his spoon. Renjun watches as Jaemin's gaze runs over to you, and as if someone's flipped a switch inside him, Jaemin's smile drops. If the sudden silence wasn't so ear numbing, one would've heard it smash to the ground and shatter into pieces. Even Donghyuck has stopped munching on his food to scan the situation, the end of a fry sticking out from between his lips.

Renjun's heart stops, then starts thumping up his throat as he slowly turns his head towards you, and this exact process repeats itself as he sees how pale you've gotten. Your eyes are trained on Jaemin, and Renjun can see you gulp once before you suddenly get up, the legs of the chair disgustingly scratching over the floor, and leave the fast food restaurant with hurried steps.

Despite desperately wanting to know what the fuck just happened, Renjun hastily gets up to run after you, calling out your name, once, twice, but when he reaches the doors, panting breath creating soft clouds in the cool air, you're out of sight.

_____

Ah, what a great morning. That is what Renjun would have thought if it was opposite day. He is devastated. You are nowhere to be found, the apartment empty since he returned and he still regrets not asking for your number sometime during the past days, though there was no need since you'd spend all your time at his place anyway. But now you're not. You're gone, and Jaemin refuses to let him in on what exactly happened between the two of you that made you leave the place in a hurry, only for Renjun to find Jaemin gone as well as soon as he returned. He only found Donghyuck sitting at the table, dragging his last fry through the milkshake. They finished their meal in silence.

As the doorbell rings, Renjun falls off the couch, scrambles up and runs to answer the door. It's not you, though, it's Donghyuck, who for once decided to be a good friend and check in on Renjun, even though the latter would rather just lie down in a puddle of his own tears, and sob.

"I'm sorry, man," Donghyuck says, dragging Renjun into his arms for comfort. Renjun simply sighs. The warmth of Donghyuck's hug does actually help ease some of the tension in his heart, and when they part, Renjun invites Donghyuck in for some tea.

"Do you know what happened?" Renjun asks as he hands Donghyuck his mug.

"Not a clue. Jaemin hasn't even been home. I have some theories, though." Donghyuck takes a sip and curses after burning his tongue.

"That are?" Renjun is actually relieved to have someone else break their brain over this situation that is not him.

"Number one: Jaemin is her lost brother."

Renjun blinks.

"Number two: Jaemin fucked her mother and destroyed her parent's marriage."

Renjun raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, number three: Jaemin fucked her mother and is her father."

Renjun raises a hand to slap him.

"Okay, okay! Sorry. Number four, and this actually goes two ways. Four point one: They fucked and she is the one girl that broke Jaemin's heart and made him this way."

Renjun does not like the sound of that at all.

"Four point two: They fucked and Jaemin broke her heart and that's why she can't commit."

"I hate all of your theories with my entire being," Renjun admits, "Do you have one that does not mean something bad?"

"Um..." Donghyuck thinks for a while that, admittedly, lasts too long for Renjun to relax, "Jaemin once saved her cat and she never got the chance to thank him because- he fucked her mom- I'M SORRY that's all I can think of."

Renjun sighs. "I don't know. I just wish she would care about me enough to just talk to me, you know?"

"I don't think that's the problem," Donghyuck suggests and Renjun looks away from his steaming mug and at Donghyuck instead. "I think she cares about you a lot, but there seems to be some sort of past trauma that makes it hard for her. I mean, I'm not a specialist since you" – a glaring Donghyuck points an accusing finger at Renjun – "refuse to update me about every little thing like I asked you to, but I don't think this has as much to do with you as you think."

"I've never thought about it that way," Renjun admits, and a little weight drops off his heart at the fact that he is possibly not at fault, and neither are you. "Thank you, Hyuck, honestly."

"No biggie." Donghyuck shrugs with a smug smirk. "You can pay me back in kind."

"What do you mean?"

"A smooch." Donghyuck puckers his lips, but at the same time, the doorbell rings a second time that day, causing Renjun to jump and run towards the obnoxious sound. This time, it really is you.

"Can we talk?" You ask as you stand in his doorway, and Renjun can't do anything but blink in awe because, honestly? He thought he'd never see you again.

"Um, not to be rude, but we're kind of in the middle of something here," Donghyuck says with his lips still puckered for Renjun to kiss. Renjun, without taking his eyes off of you in case you'd vaporize once he looked away for even a split second, ushers Donghyuck to leave since, "he was on his way out, actually."

Not without throwing a little tantrum, Donghyuck lets himself get pushed out of Renjun's apartment. Renjun whispers another 'thank you' and blows him a kiss before closing the door in Donghyuck's face.

_____

"I didn't know you started smoking again," Renjun comments as you sit on his sad excuse of a balcony.

"This is for the vibe," you say, and blow the smoke into the air. "And maybe I had a drink."

"Okay."

Silence.

"This is really scary for me," you admit, and Renjun assumes that you're talking about opening up.

"You can trust me, I'm not going anywhere," Renjun assures, placing a careful arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple.

"Jaemin was my first love."

Renjun gulps. He feels a little part of his heart break off and shatter against his ribcage, leaving a stinging pain behind. Great, so you know Jaemin, and not only that, he happened to be the first one you've ever let into your heart. Renjun assumes that it's been a couple of years since then, but knowing Jaemin, he couldn't possibly be the best first love, or a good one even. Don't get him wrong, he dearly loves Jaemin – in a platonic way – but the way he treats girls is not something he should be as proud of as he is. But maybe he hasn't always been like this. Maybe you were the one to make him like this.

"Go on," Renjun finally coughs out. His hands feel a little shaky, maybe even a little sweaty, and he feels the need to wrap them around the metal railing separating him from free falling to his death.

"It was back in school. I fell for him immediately. He made me feel like the only girl in the world."

Renjun dares to look over at you to watch you sigh, dragging on your cigarette once again. You look incredibly pained, and as much as he wants you to shut up because it seems to be hurting not only him, but you as well, he needs to know.

"Well, that was until he took my virginity. Never saw him again after that until," you pause, clear your throat and take a deep breath and continue pressed with your eyes closed, "until today."

Renjun takes a minute to calm down his mind from running thoughts on overspeed. "I'm- so sorry that happened to you. I wish I could say he's not like that anymore, but... well, his moral compass enhanced a little... um..." Renjun removes his hands from the railing, wiping them on his jeans, then turns to you. "Look, I can see why you wouldn't want to hang out w-"

"No," you interrupt him, dragging on your cigarette once more before carelessly flicking the bud onto the streets below, then you turn to him, take a careful step forward and take his hands into yours. "I trust you. I want you to be the right one. I want you to break this pattern, I want you to change my future."

Renjun does not know how to respond. There's a part of him that wants to pay Jaemin a visit and punch him, but he knows better than to start a physical fight with Na Jaemin, the local gym's best customer. And besides, what would it matter? It's not like violence would change anything. "May I hug you?"

You nod, and Renjun wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. His chin rests in the crook of your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo, and he is not sure whether it's a good thing that he falls for you more and more every second he spends with you.

_____

Renjun decided that it would be best not to see Jaemin for some time, mostly in favor of his own well being considering that Jaemin would dominate him if it ever came to a physical confrontation. Instead, he focuses his energy on making you feel loved and protected, and makes sure he never gives you the impression of leaving you. He mostly enjoys the quiet nights with you, creating as much physical contact as possible without being uncomfortable, and freely talking into the rise of the sun.

Renjun learned that it's only been you and your mom, most of the time, since your dad cheated on her when you were still a child. Then, as soon as you turned eighteen and got your first real job, your mother left the country. Not without saying goodbye, but apparently, she made it clear that she didn't want to stay in contact. Ever since, it's only been you. You'd always been by yourself, having to care for yourself, working hard to make enough money to be able to afford rent and food. In a way, you had raised yourself to be independent, and your past encounter with Jaemin must have just intensified your bias not to trust men after what your father did to your mother.

Still, that's all Renjun knows about you. And after 3 months of living together, he kind of wishes to know where you live – well, when you're not living with him – what you do for a job, if you have any friends for him to meet, but all he knows is your zodiac sign. Although, he calms himself down by telling himself that you need time to build up trust. After everything that's happened to you, Renjun is the last person wanting to pressure you.

It's only that one particular conversation with his friend Donghyuck he doesn't seem to be able to let go.

"How long have you been living together?" Donghyuck asked as he ripped a small piece off of the bread in his hand to throw it into the pile of ducks gathered in front of them at the pond at the local park. Donghyuck loves to go there to feed the ducks, and Renjun almost found it cute until Donghyuck told him the real reason behind his regular visits to feed the ducks at the pond: picking up girls.

Donghyuck swears that this is the perfect way to get a "chick" (his words, not Renjun's) to fall for you. Either they love this sweet, domestic side of a man who is soft enough to go feed ducks in his spare time which inevitably makes him boyfriend material, or they're there with their kids and- Renjun can't recall how this was different from the first thing. He only remembers thinking that Donghyuck has a weird obsession with older women, and the freudian curiosity in Renjun kind of pushes him to find out more about what that's about. Maybe another time.

"Almost three months," Renjun smiled widely, ready to spill information about all the great memories he had made with you over the past 11 weeks, like when he accidentally sent the pizza delivery guy to the wrong address or when the both of you giggled too loudly at a YouTube video until his downstairs neighbor knocked at his door and begged for you to shut up (admittedly, there's not much going on), but Donghyuck interrupted him with his hand hitting Renjun square in his solar plexus.

"Three months?! Woah, get it champ! How often do you do it?" Donghyuck asked, completely ignoring the way Renjun had to fight not to double over and slide face forward into the pond.

"We-" Renjun coughed and was finally able to stand up straight again. "We actually don't have sex at all."

In hindsight, Renjun's knowledge of physics and anatomy make him doubt the reaction he remembers, but he vividly recalls Donghyuck's eyes to drive out of his skull as he jumped about 3 meters into the air. Summarized: Donghyuck was a little surprised!

"Um, well, I didn't think it would hit you this early, but there are ways, man." Donghyuck patted Renjun's shoulder brotherly. "I still have a few pills at home if you want to try them. I get them from this one guy, and they're worth every penny, let me tell you-"

"I do not suffer from erectile disfunction," Renjun clarified and Donghyuck quickly shut his mouth, blinked a few times, then began to defend himself about how he doesn't need them to get hard, just to stay hard longer or whatever.

"Anyway," Renjun side-eyed Donghyuck as he finally stopped talking, "I just... don't want her to leave me again."

"Ah, that's how the land lies," Donghyuck grinned, "but buddy, it's been months, don't you miss it?"

"Not really," Renjun lied without cause.

"Don't you miss the way it feels?" Donghyuck leaned closer, warm breath tickling Renjun's ear and neck, his voice getting whiney and full of lust as he explained the warm, wet feeling of a-

"Okay, maybe I do!" Renjun said in defeat, holding onto Donghyuck's hands to stop them for making lewd gestures.

"Then there's nothing stopping you. Well, except for the fact that it's very weird how she just lives with you. Doesn't she have a job? Does she pay rent?" Donghyuck frowned at Renjun with raised eyebrows.

Renjun squinted his eyes at him, frowning as well. "Where is this coming from?!"

"I'm just saying, you should ask her about that." Donghyuck shrugged and poured the remaining bread crumbs from his paper bag onto the ground, causing ducks to zoom out of the water and gather around their feet.

"I don't want to pressure her. You know how hard it is for her to open up," Renjun reasoned, but Donghyuck seemed to be having ulterior motives, throwing a wink into the direction of a middle aged woman with a stroller. Renjun watched for a few moments as Donghyuck pressed his tongue into his cheek smugly, then shouted "just gave him some relationship advice while feeding the ducks", and how the woman chuckled and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then decided he's seen enough.

Sadly, turning off one's ears had not been invented yet, Renjun thought as he stepped away after patting disinterested Donghyuck's shoulder as goodbye, still hearing Donghyuck ask her about the child's father, how come such a beautiful woman doesn't have a strong man at her side, and what she's going to be doing tonight.

_____

"Baby?" Renjun enters the living room to find you sitting in front of the couch on the carpet, carelessly browsing through a magazine with your playlist randomly playing tunes in the background.

"Hey!" Your eyes light up as you see him. Renjun sits down beside you, a slight smile on his face as he takes in how beautiful you look tonight, just like all nights.

"What are you up to?" He asks, curiously leaning forward to be able to look at the magazine as well.

"It's just a women's magazine, it's like fashion and make-up trends an stuff," you explain briefly still scanning through the pages before your eyes light up once again as you turn to look at Renjun.

"What?" Renjun chuckles nervously, but simultaneously loving the look on your face.

"Could I.. do your make-up?" You ask straightforwardly. Renjun's eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise, mouth shaping an 'o' as he looks up thinking about it briefly. He's never gotten his make-up done before, and although the thought had never occurred to him before, it does sound like a fun couple's activity to do together that could lead to excellent bonding time. Therefore, he smiles and nods at your request.

Renjun coos at how you get up to grab your make-up bag with a slight excited jump in your walk, then watches how you lean down to fish it out of your bag, gulping hard and averting his gaze as you so carelessly present your ass to him. The conversation with Donghyuck still playing in his mind, he realizes that, apart from wanting to know more about you, he really does miss being inside of you physically.

Before he knows it, you're back on the carpet next to him, opening your bag to reveal the endless depths of its contents, various pencils and brushes, tubes and bottles that Renjun knows close to nothing about.

"What do you want me to do?" You ask, and Renjun smiles contently.

"Whatever you want, I'm yours to play with," he confirms before realizing the ambiguous meaning of his words. He still means them, in both ways.

Although, you do not seem to be catching on, shuffling to sit in front of Renjun instead to have a better look at his handsome face. "Your skin is pretty, so let's skip foundation," you decide and Renjun's smile grows at the implied compliment. Instead, you brush his messy bangs out of his face to be able to get a better look at his eyes.

"Can I do your eyeliner?" You ask, gazing deeply into his eyes, and honestly, you could've asked him to jump out of the window and he'd respond with the same breathy 'yes' he did just now. Especially now after you've climbed into his lap for better access.

"Okay," you giggle, now a black pencil in your hand, "look up!"

Renjun does his best to follow your orders, but the eyeliner feels very foreign on his eyes, and as you ask him to look down next, he is met with your cleavage greeting him, and he has to concentrate on not popping a boner instead.

After a while, you lean back, admiring your work as Renjun blinks a few tears away.

"You look pretty," you admit, handing Renjun a little mirror to see for himself. And as he catches his own reflection, he must admit that you're right. He does look pretty, but honestly, he could've looked like trash right now and he'd still do this over and over again just to be close to you.

"Thank you, I agree!" He smiles, handing you the mirror back.

"How about lipstick next?" You suggest and Renjun's eyes immediately dart down to your lips, remembering the last time his own lips touched them for longer than a quick peck, and longing for that feeling. So instead of answering, he nods, trying his best to conceal his nervousness.

A lipstick in hand, you get comfortable on his lap again, seemingly either ignoring or not caring what your shuffling does to him, then attend to his lips. Renjun's now able to watch your face closely as you apply the tinted product onto his lips, falling in love with the way you look when you concentrate on something.

Your gentle fingers tap the lipstick onto his lips, spreading the color gently to create a faded look, but Renjun doesn't really care anymore. His eyes keep focussing on your lips, yearning to taste them again, and he feels like it's showing with the way he keeps leaning in closer.

His heart skips a beat as he looks up into your eyes again to see them already looking into his, and he doesn't even have to say anything before you close the gap in between your mouths and begin kissing him gently, leaving one, two, three kisses on his lips before drawing back to look into his eyes again.

No words are exchanged, it's just him who leans in this time, breathing in deeply through his nose as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. He completely loses himself in you and the slow song playing in the background. Your lips feel heavenly, and Renjun admits that it's really been too long since the last time he got to taste them.

Your hands stroke over his body just as his do to yours, gentle moans fall from both of your lips as you carefully grind down against Renjun's prominent bulge. It doesn't take long for him to turn you around, gently laying you on your back to the soft carpet, caging you in with his arms and deeply gazing into your eyes. You strip each other of every piece of clothing, taking your sweet time to show the other how you feel, and as Renjun finally enters you, he feels like this is where he belongs.

_____

"Hyuck, I'm telling you, it was absolutely fantastic," Renjun beams, hands in the air metaphorically mimicking a large object to visualize how much fun he's had with you the night prior.

"I'm guessing the rule of premarital abstinence is off the table?" Donghyuck teases, face mockingly serious, though a brow sneaks its way upwards to hint at his playfulness. Renjun presses his lips together, hands sinking to the table.

"You are just jealous that woman in the park only wanted you to be her new babysitter," Renjun shoots back.

"That's what her mouth said, but do you know what her body said to me about thirty minutes later as I rammed my dick in her?" Donghyuck crosses his arms, pressing his tongue into his cheek smugly, and Renjun just stares blankly ahead, right through Donghyuck's insufferable ego as if it was see-through and not as solid as concrete. Donghyuck leans forwards, forearms holding his weight hovering over the tabletop.

"Ah, fuck, you're so big, Donghyuck. Please, d-don't tell my husband. H-he really can't find out that you're making m-me feel so much better than him, ugh, God, I wish you were the father of my children," Donghyuck moans, high pitched and fake like a porn star, and Renjun snorts, laughter that threatened to come out winning the battle against his muscles, and he's sure he spit on Donghyuck in the process. Payback.

"Sorry," Renjun says and doesn't mean it, "have you talked to your therapist about this 'Mommy'-thing?" Donghyuck sighs and rolls his eyes.

"It's not a 'Mommy'-thing. I don't want them to be my mom, I don't want them to pack me a lunch box and sing me a lullaby," Donghyuck explains.

"Then, what?" The corners of Renjun's mouth twitching downwards, threatening another wave of laughter to burst out with vigor.

"Older ladies know what they want in life. They went through labor and stuff and mostly already found a man, so when they want me, I feel good. Also, they know how to please a guy, you know?" Donghyuck says, and Renjun's eyes are about to pop out from the sole pressure of trying to keep his amusement from spitting Donghyuck in the face again.

"Alright, then, if my love life is so laughable, why don't you give me some insight on how great your girlfriend's cunt squeezes around your dick?" Donghyuck crosses his arms, meaning to sound petty and passive-aggressive, even though Renjun knows that he is eager to hear every little detail.

"Does everything have to be this graphic with you?" Renjun contorts his face in faux disgust, but huffs out a chuckle, not ready to admit that, in all honesty, Donghyuck's words sent him right back to last night when you came around him, milking him for all he's worth.

"It does. Whether you like it or not, this is what you signed up for when you started calling me your friend. Now spill," Donghyuck raises a threatening finger.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable giving out information to fuel your next wanking session with my girlfriend," Renjun notes, but continues to spill the details nonetheless. "So, all in all, very romantic until I was like 5 seconds pre-orgasm and 'Jopping' started playing."

"Did you-"

"I did nut to 'Jopping'."

"I guess you were really jumping and popping," Donghyuck examines, then thinks a little longer, "I guess you were a big boy throwing three stacks."

Renjun looks at him, lips turning into a thin line before he slaps his thighs and gets up. "I think I should go?"

"I guess you really made it bang," Donghyuck says and gets up as well, following Renjun into the hallway with quick footsteps. "I guess you really made the crowd go wild in a small room."

"Stop!" Renjun begs, giggling nevertheless as he slips his jacket on.

"I guess you really got that glow."

"Donghyuck!!" Renjun shrieks, not even fully slipping into his shoes before he grabs his bag and opens the door, Donghyuck behind him clutching his stomach laughing. Though, Renjun gets surprised by someone already standing outside the door, the grin immediately falling off his face as he sees who it is.

"I guess it's in your- " Donghyuck starts, but the second he sees the person in front of the door, his laughter dies down, "... nature."

"Hello, stranger," Renjun says sarcastically, squinting his eyes at Jaemin who simply gulps. It's not like Jaemin to not say anything, or to not smile. Renjun immediately feels a little sorry, but at the same time, he doesn't.

Jaemin simply nods before squeezing in between Renjun and the wooden door frame, kicking his shoes off hastily and hurrying past a flabbergasted Donghyuck towards his room. Renjun's eyes follow him disappear, and when he hears the door to Jaemin's room close shut, he feels reminded of how things really started going downwards as soon as you crossed paths with Jaemin again. Of course it bothers him knowing one of his best bros 1) had his dick in Renjun's girlfriend and 2) broke her heart and scarred her for life. What bothers him almost more is how things went well, they were okay, but now Jaemin needed to show up again and make Renjun question everything he's built with you.

What if Donghyuck is right? What if it really is weird that you keep staying at his place? Why is there never a place you have to be? Admittedly, Renjun had pushed this uncomfortable feeling of something being off with your stay to the very back of his brain, not wanting to destroy what you have, not wanting to waste his last chance for love because of something as insignificant as 'oh no, my girlfriend won't leave and I also don't want her to', but suppressing worries is never the answer. No matter how far you push them away, they always resurface to bite you in the butt. And sometimes they bite you in the butt in human form with a perfect, pearly-white set of teeth and eyes that seem alarmingly less sparkly than usual.

Renjun decides that he has to get a grip. He's been so blinded by love, or whatever it is right now that's surely developing into love, that he just let you step into his life, ruin one of his dearest friendships and keep eating the contents of his fridge when he's not home. All this, he tells himself on the way home, passing by a group of guys hanging out in the park together drinking. He sighs. Wasn't it always bros before hoes? Pals before gals? Homies before blow-me's? Does that still apply when the homie is in the wrong?

_____

"Darling?" Renjun whispers as he enters your (at this point) shared home. The lights are turned off, your figure nowhere to be found. Renjun sighs, slowly unties his shoe laces, takes his sneakers off and places them by the door carefully. He realizes most of his shoes are carelessly thrown all over the place, and so are yours. After the sixth pair he's carefully put into storage, he realizes what he's doing.

"You stupid gremlin, just ask her. Stop wasting time," Renjun tells himself, finally taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

"Ask me what?"

Renjun swears his soul leaves his body for a good 10 seconds before he can breathe again. Your silhouette stands in the doorway to his bedroom, the light of the lampposts outside shining on your backside, hugging your curves and making you look like an angel. Renjun curses his artistic eye in moments like these.

"You scared the crap out of me," he giggles, a little intimidated and, truthfully, freaked out at the way you just stand there, seemingly faceless because of the darkness.

"Aww, I'm sorry," you say, and approach him, hugging his cool figure into your arms. Hesitantly, Renjun hugs you back. Something inside him tells him that you're hiding something. "Where were you so long?"

Renjun breathes in slowly, then out through his nose. "Just walking around, needed to think." He's telling the truth.

"Are you okay?" You pull back, looking at his face gently illuminated by the moon. Very lightly, Renjun can make out the lines of worry on your face. He lets out a shaky breath.

"We need to talk."

Another layer of clothing lighter, Renjun sits down on the bed next to you, sweatpants and a white shirt replacing his earlier clothes that kept him from freezing in the cool weather of an early October. The expression on your face is unreadable, though you look not happy, but rather full of worry, sadness and a pinch of anger.

"Okay, this... this is not an easy thing to ask," Renjun finally starts, hating the tension that's so thick one could cut it with a knife.

"Please, um-" you stop him before anymore words can leave his mouth, glossed over eyes finding his gaze and the sight makes Renjun's heart ache. Never have you looked so raw, so fragile, so... broken? "Let me say something first, okay?"

Renjun nods, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to chew on it. His heart beats fast, the sight of you in front of him almost making him forget why he marched through the streets of this town for hours with no physical goal, but only to make sense of the mess clouding his brain.

"I don't know... what exactly you're going to ask me, but-" you halt and stare downwards into your lap where your shaky hands are nervously fumbling with each other. "Whatever it is, whether you want to break up with me, I just want you to know that-" you gulp, voice shaky, "that I've never felt loved in my life except for when I was with you. You really showed me what love is, Jun. You made me love you. So, um..." you breathe out shakily, two tears rolling down and falling towards your hands as they reach the apples of your cheeks. "Thank you for your time and efforts. You really are the best person I've ever met."

_____

"You are fucking weak!" Donghyuck scolds, a little less playfully than usual.

"You don't get it, Hyuck. You weren't there. The sight would even have broken your sad excuse of a heart," Renjun defends himself.

"Excuse me? Just because my heart has Milf-shaped holes in it doesn't mean I don't feel empathy!" Donghyuck throws in, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Renjun feels a little less confident in his decision of letting you be than a few minutes ago. "What did you ask instead?"

Renjun bites his tongue. Admittedly, a day later, the decision doesn't seem as logical as it did hidden under the secure blankets of a dark night. "I asked if she wanted to meet my parents?"

Donghyuck laughs out, once, and very loud, then turns his body to Renjun and places his hands on the older's thighs. "And let me guess." He raises his eyebrows in amusement. Renjun is not amused. "She was like: 'oh my God, Junnie! Why didn't you just say that?' And playfully slapped your arm, and you somehow ended up with your dick so deep in her you could feel hear stomach acid."

"Ew, what the fuck?" Renjun's eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing, his mouth agape in horror. "Y-you know that's not how the female body works, right?"

"How would I know?" Donghyuck retorts, shrugging.

Renjun groans in frustration, hiding his face in his hands. Donghyuck is right. He shouldn't have let you off the hook so easily. He has the right to know! He deserves to have all the answers to his questions. He is honestly one incident away from making an AITA post on Reddit.

"Hey, hey," Donghyuck gently removes Renjun's hands from his face, letting his hands linger on the older's wrists, "don't beat yourself up, Jun. It's not your fault. If the pussy is tight, the pussy is tight, and there is nothing we can do about it. She's in your head, while you should be in her head – literally."

Renjun rolls his eyes.

"No, for real, though." Donghyuck softly slaps the back of Renjun's birthmarked hand. "Women have a different kind of power over us mortals." He looks deeply into Renjun's eyes. "You really like her, don't you?"

Renjun nods. "I might even use the other L-word."

"Okay, here's the thing," Donghyuck announces, now taking both of Renjun's hands in his, cheesily interlocking their fingers which Renjun chooses to ignore, "meeting your parents is great. I mean, inevitably, they're gonna ask her about her job, won't they?"

A spark of hopeful light appears in Renjun's eyes. "You're right. Thank you, Hyuck."

"Kiss me, then," Donghyuck says and winks. Renjun forcefully pulls his hands from Donghyuck's grip. "In your dreams."

"You don't wanna know what happens in my dreams, my dear Renjun," Donghyuck smirks and Renjun decides that this conversation has to end here.

"How are things with Jaemin?" He therefore asks, leaning back in his chair to create a bigger distance between him and the lecher.

"He's in and out, mostly when he knows I'm not around. I think I'm going to trap him later today when he comes home, and make him tell me what the fuck his problem is," Donghyuck explains matter-of-factly. Renjun admires Donghyuck for his confrontation abilities. Of course, Donghyuck is not as in the middle of all this as Renjun, but he himself would've dreaded running into Jaemin randomly in the hallway, would probably put a tracking device on Jaemin so he can properly avoid him, and – Heaven forbid – would not try to corner him and make him spill. Renjun really hates confrontation, he always has when it comes to people he's close with, that he likes, or rather: that he's afraid of losing, and this is probably one of the reasons why he finds it abnormally hard to tickle the kind of information out of you that he needs to sleep peacefully at night.

Either way, Donghyuck will get Jaemin, and his parents will get you, and Renjun gets all the information he needs without having to put in even an ounce of effort. Slowly, Renjun realizes that this is not that great of a foundation for a good relationship, platonically or romantically. Yeah, admittedly, he feels a bit like a wimp.

_____

Renjun's heart beats up his throat for no apparent reason, except for the fact that he's currently standing in front of his parents' house, having just pressed his finger into the button for the doorbell seconds prior. On his other hand: you, dressed up nicely as if you're trying to impress his parents, inevitably leading to a new hatch of butterflies dancing around in Renjun's stomach. He also quite enjoys the way your palm is a bit sweaty as you cling to his hand, proving that you're nervous, which means that you care. Renjun really likes imagining that you care.

"Son!" Renjun's father opens the door and pulls him into a strong, manly hug, his dad's large palm coming down on his back to knock the air out of him. Seconds later, the hug is over, and Renjun's father examines you.

You smile sweetly, holding his hand out for him to shake. Renjun's dad raises his eyebrows, grins, then shakes your hand aggressively. "Son, I gotta say-"

"Please refrain," Renjun pleads, and pulls you into the house. You both take your shoes off and enter the living room containing Renjun's mom who quickly fluffs out the pillows, then turns to you.

"It's great to meet you," she says, shakes your hand and throws Renjun a wink. Renjun cringes. He really loves his parents – well, his mom first and foremost, but yeah – but they have a disgruntling tendency to embarrass him. His mother, the social butterfly she is, immediately picks up a conversation with you and, to Renjun's upmost joy, you seem thrilled about it, your eyes sparkling as you talk to his mother. It's good, don't get him wrong, but beyond the surface, it's bad. There is a reason Renjun brought you here, well, not that it's the sole reason, but Renjun still needs to find out what it is that you do for a living, and when he gets blinded by this mind-numbing feeling of being absolutely in love with the way you get along with his mother, the dearest woman in his life, he will forget about it.

Hence, he excuses himself to see his father in the kitchen, preparing the food. Not that any of you or his mother would even notice his absence as Renjun's mom is already on her way to the shelf in the corner to pull out photo albums containing Renjun's best and worst memories growing up. But even as he stands in the kitchen, his gaze darts over through the open door to investigate your figure hunched over the printed stages of Renjun's puberty, giggling wholeheartedly over his mother's remarks about all of his friends in the past. His mother has always been good with names and faces.

Even later at the dinner table, Renjun is not able to concentrate one his father's cooking, or the light conversation taking place over the amount of food on the table that could feed an entire baseball team for three weeks. There is only one single thing on Renjun's mind: what is it that you are hiding?

Thankfully – might it be the telekinetic bond he has with his mother or just simple human interest – Renjun's mom, after a minute of silent munching, pipes up and throws the question into the room.

"Our Renjun worked hard to be a freelancer," she chuckles and briefly touches Renjun's forearm resting beside his plate, causing Renjun's ears to pipe up and his eyes to widen. "What is it that you do for a living?"

Renjun feels as if time stops, presumably because it does take you a little while to answer. You visibly gulp at the question, eyes avoiding every person at the table. "Well," you begin, then look up at everyone. You blink a few times and wet your lips before continuing. "I recently lost my job and am looking for something else at the moment." Your gaze catches Renjun's who can't hide his surprise. "Which is why I am extremely grateful for Renjun being there for me right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Renjun's mom comforts, a sad look on her face.

"It's okay. I mean- the firm had to ax jobs because of insolvency, so there wasn't really anything I could do about it." You nod to yourself. The following awkwardness lies heavily in the air, and before Renjun's father can even think about bringing alcohol to the table, his mother pipes up once again.

"Don't worry about it, dear. You are still young, there will be lots of job opportunities in the future, I'm sure of it," she smiles encouragingly and you manage to send a slight smile back. "Which reminds me!"

This time, Renjun's mom playfully pinches her husband's shoulder who dramatically mewls at the action. "We were just your age when we met!"

"Oh, really?" You smile widely, interested in the story Renjun's mom tells next, going into almost every detail regarding their first encounter. Renjun, having listened to this exact story countless times, relaxes in his seat. He feels a bit bad that he basically forced you to reveal this probably embarrassing detail about yourself in front of his parents the first time you meet them, but a much bigger part of him is just relieved since, basically, this explains it all. Maybe he should feel a bit used, a bit hurt that you didn't trust him enough to share this detail of your life with him, but on the other hand: he is just glad you're not secretly a serial killer or do porn. Not that there's anything wrong with that, he'd just like to know.

In the midst of his mom's speech, he catches your eyes and sends you a gentle smile which you reciprocate. His hand gently squeezes your thigh under the table, and he is pleasantly surprised as your hand finds his, casually interlocking your fingers with his and putting them on display on the table top.

"Well, good thing you met him before the year ended," Renjun's mother finishes. Renjun's eyes almost pop out of their sockets. Why would she bring that up?

"Why? What's happening at the end of the year?" You ask curiously.

"Christmas!" Renjun says, a bit too loud maybe, since all eyes are on him all of a sudden. "You know, cuffin' season. Heh..."

The day ends pleasantly. Renjun has to fight both of his parents off as they try to make you stay over night or "at least for another shot". Oh no, he has to get you home and, to be completely honest, right into his bed, or preferably the closest surface to the front door that you're willing to take him on. Not even the little remark his mother had whispered to him as he was waiting by the door for you to finish up in the bathroom can make him want you any less right now: "I'm so sure I know her from somewhere."

_____

Days pass and Renjun is on cloud nine. Things are going absolutely great with you, you do fun stuff together, and Renjun can have his little daddy moments every once in a while when you ask him to help you with your job search. He feels giddy all over when he goes to bed, and possibly even giddier when he wakes up to you soundly snoring in his arms. Life is perfect.

But Renjun wouldn't be Renjun if he didn't worry about something, and this time it is the last obstacle to overcome for this to be the absolute perfect relationship: you have to vibe with his friends. Well, first of all, he himself has to start vibing with all of his friends again. He has not seen or heard of Jaemin since he met him that day, and Donghyuck had either forgotten to corner the younger male, or forgotten to tell Renjun about it (classic Donghyuck).

Hence, Renjun calls Donghyuck (so he can't forget to respond to his messages) and makes a plan to meet. Said meeting actually occurs on the same day since Donghyuck feared Jaemin would flee the country if they didn't hurry.

About an hour later – and don't ask him how he convinced you to do this (he might have been using the short post-orgasm timeframe to suggest it when your mind was still cloudy and you were grinning like you were out of your mind) – you appear in front of Donghyuck and Jaemin's apartment.

Before Renjun can even reach out to ring the doorbell, Donghyuck rips open the door, shushes the both of you and hurries you inside. Shoes off, you all meet at the stinky kitchen table and Renjun is reminded of his first encounter with you that he had spilled about at this very table. He finds it a funny little memory.

"Jaemin is in his room," Donghyuck whispers and Renjun can smell the garlic fried chicken he must have had earlier in his breath.

"You didn't tell him we were coming?" Renjun whisper-shouts back and purposely avoids looking at you because he already knows of the disapproving stare the back of his head is receiving right now.

"One: he just had a girl over, and even though I seem like the type to barge into a room that reeks of sex to witness Jaemin balls deep in a chick, I've seen enough of that. Two: if I had told him, he would've possibly taken off no questions asked," Donghyuck reasons and Renjun has to, once again, question why Donghyuck always has to verbally visualize all the tmi details of his speech. Renjun turns to look at you, and you look unsure. Although you had voiced your concerns on the way here, and Renjun had to make you promise not to bail on him, he gets where you're coming from.

Taking you aside (turning around since Donghyuck is openly swiping on his tinder right now that Renjun knows he hasn't set an age limit to) he asks, "Are you okay with this?"

You take a deep breath before nodding. "I want to do this for you, Jun."

Renjun has to ask himself when he started to connect the feeling of love with the desire for sex because why is the first though that comes to mind to bend you over the sticky counter and have his balls slap against your thighs? On that note, he also should stop hanging out with Donghyuck so much if this is how his mind describes sex...

Instead, he presses a kiss to your lips, and apparently Donghyuck's forgotten about his rule of being quiet because he 'ooohh's and laughs dirtily. Renjun simply pays him no mind, unlike you who raises a questioning eyebrow.

"I say I go in first, prepare him for what's to come, and then get him out here so we can all talk," Renjun suggests and everyone nods in agreement. "And Donghyuck-"

"Hm?"

"Leave my girlfriend alone while I'm gone." Renjun squints at Donghyuck.

"I'll try my best." Donghyuck winks at him before brushing his tongue over his front teeth and then biting the air in your direction. Renjun cringes.

"I can defend myself, don't you worry," you confirm with a smile and Renjun wants to kiss the floor you're walking on. Well, maybe not this floor since he is sure that ketchup stain by the fridge has been there since they moved in and got McDonald's on the first night.

"Oh, you know martial arts?" Donghyuck questions with raised eyebrows and great interest.

"No, but I can aim for your balls!" You explain, nodding excitedly.

"Be careful, he might enjoy that," Renjun comments before leaving towards Jaemin's room. He can hear Donghyuck silently arguing his statement in the background before promising you that he would not enjoy that, even though everyone present knows that's a lie. Renjun giggles one last time before turning the corner and stepping into the narrow hallway leading to Donghyuck's and Jaemin's bedrooms while wishing they would open a window every once in a while.

The few steps to Jaemin's door seem endless, especially as Renjun walks past Donghyuck's room that he had forgotten to close the door to, greeting Renjun with the pleasant sight of a fleshlight. Renjun whines quietly, but realizes nonetheless that he is happy to be Donghyuck's friend. He might be disgusting, but it's actually kind of funny.

So, without proper preparation of what to say, Renjun arrives at Jaemin's door. His hand hesitates in front of the "alpha male", "gym bro" and "Fortnite" stickers on Jaemin's door before he actually manages to knock.

The second Jaemin takes to offer him to enter stretches like gum.

"Did you forget something, bunny?" Jaemin asks as soon as the door opens. Renjun is greeted with the sight of Jaemin's massive back facing him as he sits at his desk, an online poker game decorating the large screen in front of him.

Given the nickname, Renjun doubts that Jaemin has any clue that it's him in his room right now. He tries to think of a cocky answer, but he has never been the spontaneous type, so all that comes out is "call me bunny one more time and i might kiss you" and Renjun has no idea where that came from. Still, it does the job of making Jaemin spin around in his chair, eyes wide in shock as he sees Renjun (and not bunny) stand in the doorway.

It's been a while since Renjun's seen Jaemin, and that might be one of the reasons why he finds himself staring at the younger's chest muscles for a bit too long for it to be a coincidence.

Once he's managed to peel his eyes off of Jaemin's nude upper body (he is glad he's wearing boxer shorts, at least) he aims to say something again since Jaemin's sure taking a long time to respond.

"Good day, sir," Renjun says and frowns at how awkward he is. Finally, a chuckle escapes Jaemin. Renjun also isn't sure why he's being so nice to Jaemin. Last time he checked, he was furious and wanted Jaemin to suffer a pussy-less summer. Maybe it's because everything else is perfect right now, and he doesn't have it in him to feel angry anymore.

"Hello, Jun," Jaemin finally says before getting up and wrapping his meaty arms around Renjun who experiences a weird mixture of relief, a spark of arousal, and the feeling of being crushed to death, so he just gently pads Jaemin's body in return. When Jaemin finally lets go of him, holding him by his shoulders and gently shaking him, Renjun reminds himself of all the disgusting things in this room alone so he can stop finding his best friend hot (namely: the dead cactus by the dirty window, the trash can that's spilling over with used tissues and condom wrappers, the countless empty bottles scattered around the place, most of which still containing an unnaturally colored fluid and some of which sporting little white clumps, the pin-up-girl-posters, the old gym socks all over the floor that he can smell from here, and the thick layer of dust on- basically everything Jaemin doesn't touch every day). It helps.

Jaemin steps back, opens a window and lights a cigarette.

"So, uh," Renjun starts, "don't freak out."

Jaemin nods and smiles.

"But I'm here with," Renjun halts to force down a smile and fail, "with my girlfriend. And don't feel pressured right now! It's all good. But we.. we came to talk things out."

Jaemin is not smiling anymore, but nods nonetheless. Renjun feels a bit bad, a bit selfish, even.

"Would you, uh-" Renjun scratches the back of his head before stepping towards the window as well because the distance is making him feel a lot more awkward "Would you mind telling me what happened? Back then?"

"She didn't tell you?" Jaemin questions, and Renjun is trying his best to decipher how Jaemin is feeling right now. Is he upset? Does he care?

"She did, but... I wanted to hear your side of the story. You're my best friend, after all," Renjun admits, eyes wandering around the room awkwardly before looking at Jaemin again. He is a bit glad his fingers find an old gum wrapper on the window sill to fiddle with. "I know it probably didn't feel like that for you in the past weeks. I'm sorry. It should've been bros before hoes but-"

"I know, you're a hopeless romantic, Jun," Jaemin reasons, "no need to apologize. I guess I just didn't like getting confronted with my ugly past."

"I get that," Renjun says and smiles slightly. Next thing he knows, Jaemin's pressing a kiss to his forehead. Renjun turns beet red within seconds. "Stop it, idiot, I have a girlfriend."

Jaemin laughs loudly. "What, am I your gay awakening?"

"You know very well who my gay awakening was." Renjun thinks back to his high school days, especially that one kid, tall, handsome, loud and a little stupid. Oh, meow, his first love.

Jaemin ruffles his hair. "So, my side of the story, huh?" He leans on his forearms and looks out the window, blowing the smoke into the cold air. Renjun, already shivering a little, wonders how Jaemin's not dying from the cold right now. "There is not much to it, really. I was a horny teenager, she was a pretty girl. It was not cool of me to just – y'know – hit and run. I have learned since then. Girls know what they get themselves into when they hop into my bed, I make it very clear."

"Very noble of you," Renjun says, and he hopes it doesn't sound sarcastic to Jaemin's ears. This might not be Renjun's preferred lifestyle, but to each their own, who is he to judge? "I'm just hoping this won't stand between us."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't fuck your girlfriend again," Jaemin promises, snapping the bud of the cigarette out the window.

"Not what I meant-" Renjun says, but is honestly a bit relieved to hear that. Well, he's pretty sure you wouldn't cheat on him, and he knows that Jaemin has about 200 other options just off the top of his head, but it still feels nice to be reassured. "So, are we good?"

"We are so good," Jaemin announces with a grin, pulling Renjun into another rib-cracking hug. This time, Renjun actually manages to hug him back. He loves Jaemin dearly (platonically), even though he's a real pig at times. Renjun daydreams a bit more about how much he loves his friends before Jaemin detaches himself from Renjun to announce that they should probably head out so he can apologize to the real victim of all of this. Renjun swears he's going to twist Jaemin's nipples until they fall off if he goes out there to meet you without putting a shirt on first. Jaemin laughs, slaps Renjun's back so hard the air gets knocked out of his lungs, then complies and slips into the next best sweater.

Renjun sighs as he realizes the writings on it. Better than nothing, he guesses.

He isn't really surprised as they enter the kitchen to find Donghyuck flexing his very little gain of biceps in front of you and you booing at him with your thumb pointing downwards. Once you notice Jaemin, Renjun notices how you tense up a bit, and he immediately comes rushing to your side to feel you slightly relax with his arm around your shoulder.

"Long time no see-" Donghyuck squints at the lettering on Jaemin's sweater, "orgasm donor."

"Might have not seen you, but I definitely smelled those stinkers you leave in the bathroom for me to find," Jaemin responds. Renjun is a bit surprised to find that this whole situation must have affected Jaemin enough to not even interact with his platonic soulmate in the slightest.

"You make it sound like I don't flush," Donghyuck mumbles, but it goes unnoticed since Jaemin has now turned to you.

"I want to apologize, which I should've done way sooner," Jaemin starts, and the tension in the air is scaring Renjun a bit. "I was young and a total dick, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."

No one says anything, not even Donghyuck, who has an opinion or at least a thought on everything. It is quiet for a good while, and Renjun fears that you are not ready to forgive Jaemin, which, in all honesty, is fair, given you've lived with the trauma he gave you for years now. Renjun has tried fairly often since he found out what you went through, but he can't imagine how he would've reacted (and lived on) if his first love (who took his v-card) just left without saying anything. (He had to move to fulfill his dream of becoming an idol a year later, sadly, but they're still in touch, on and off. This also makes his encounter with you on the living room floor the other night a bit ironic, but that is besides the point right now.)

Finally, you breathe in. The anxiety in Jaemin's eyes tightens. Everyone is holding their breath.

"I forgive you." You reach out and shake Jaemin's hand. Hell breaks loose in Renjun's chest because, wow, what did he do in his past life to deserve such luck. He is so happy, he smooches your cheek. You giggle, Jaemin smiles and Donghyuck hollers in the background. This little party goes on for a moment before the atmosphere relaxes again. Donghyuck pipes up again to fill the silent moment with an unnecessary comment, "is it just me or does this situation call for a gang bang?"

"Donghyuck, I swear to God, I am going to stuff you head first into Jaemin's nut-napkin-trash can and send a picture of it to your mom," Renjun hisses, but Donghyuck seems unfazed.

"Nothing she hasn't seen before." He shrugs. Renjun decides not to question it.

_____

Renjun's life is so wonderful, he wishes someone would write a story about it. With him by your side, you actually managed to get a job which occupies you half of every other day. Although, you still live with Renjun, which he doesn't mind at all. He loves having you come home to a freshly cooked dinner, to then snuggle on the couch until you either fall asleep or start diddling.

Renjun likes when it's the second option, just like tonight, where he's seated on the floor in front of the couch with your legs draped over his shoulders as he eats you out slowly and softly. Your gentle gasps are music to his ears, the prime time movie playing in the background long forgotten and tuned out as his attention is fully on you.

The slight tugs on his hair make his stomach churn with desire, hands and mouth suddenly too eager to keep his teasing manner up as he moves up to kiss you instead. You giggle into the kiss at his fiery passion, suggesting to take things to the bedroom instead.

Renjun does not need to be told twice as he pulls you against him, making you chuckle even more, and moves you to the bedroom.

Your back hits the mattress with a soft thud as you smile excitedly at Renjun who comes climbing over your body to be at eye level with you again. His hands find your hips, caressing their way upwards while pushing the silky fabric of your shirt up in the process, allowing your braless chest to meet his hungry eyes. The rest of your clothing follows suit, Renjun feeling the flame of lust relight once again as his bare skin touches yours.

"Can we try something tonight?" You suddenly whisper, gaze trained on Renjun's face waiting impatiently for his answer. With his mouth slightly agape, he nods. His eyes jump to where your hand is suddenly touching his, following as you move it upwards to your neck, gently wrapping his smooth fingers around it and applying pressure.

Renjun gulps in awe.

"Press here when you push in," you say, eyelids fluttering as you mimic the action with your fingers against his. Renjun nods carefully, pupils blown probably as wide as yours with lust and desire, heart pounding in his chest as if it was the first time all over again. He will always feel like this around you.

Finding your entrance, Renjun coats his tip with your essence, teasing your awaiting body for another moment or so until his tip catches at your hole. He remembers your words, the grip of his fingers tightening around your throat as he slowly pushes forward, length sinking in slowly.

He's not even all the way in and he can already feel you clench around him, walls hugging him as if they're afraid of letting him go, hole almost fluttering at the feeling of being choked. All that paired with how heavenly you look wrapped up in ecstasy, pretty moans flowing freely only impacted by the way Renjun restricts the flow of air into your lungs and of blood into your brain.

Renjun loves you. He is so deeply in love with you he feels like he could laugh and cry simultaneously, stomach tickling with the all too familiar butterflies every time you look at him. He can't ever get enough of you, he needs you close to him. Never is he going to let you go. He will fight for you, whatever that might mean.

"I'm so in love with you," Renjun can't hold back saying, gently gaze caressing you lovingly. The slow pace he sets makes both of you see stars, length dragging along your walls perfectly to bring you to your shared high.

And it's probably this what makes it sting 100 times more the next morning. You were up early to go to work, kissing Renjun's forehead goodbye as he was still idling sleepily in bed. His mind is still groggy when he peels himself off the sheets and picks up his phone for the first time that day, weak hands struggling to remove the charger. Although, all sleepiness is wiped from his body the second he looks at the screen.

The pretty lock screen picture he has showing you during golden hour is hidden behind a bunch of messages that came in over night. But Renjun is not interested in the four messages he had gotten from Donghyuck ("TW: dickpic", a photo, "can i send it like this or does the slit look off to you??" and "or is it just me?????") or the Instagram reel Jaemin sent to the group chat with the message "me when i was in renjun's gf ha haaa" and Donghyuck responding with "clean".

What makes Renjun's heart drop, beat 20 times its usual speed and then drop again is the following E-Mail notification:

Dear Renjun Huang,

we feel the need to inform you that during our yearly check-ups, we noticed that there has been an incident with your account. Unfortunately, it seems like there has been a mistake made on the company's side regarding your profile.

It seems that someone has hacked into our system, gotten to your private information and pretended to be your Soulmatch™.

We dearly apologize for this mistake. To protect your safety, we have now deleted your account and all private information regarding your person. Please get in touch with us if you want to press charges against the intruder.

Of course, we will pay back the amount you have spent on our Premium Love Package immediately.

Again, our deepest apologies.

Sincerely,

The Soulmatch™ Team

Renjun is not sure how to react to this. Immediately, he checks the app, but he is logged out already. He tries to log in, but his profile is nowhere to be found.

Putting his phone down, he falls onto his back. His mind is racing with thoughts, but they do not seem to make any sense. Someone pretended to be his soulmate? He has never gotten any matches except-

Except you.

Was this... all a hoax? Were you not his soulmate? Have you been lying to him all this time? Why? What does this even mean? How did you do it? And most importantly, what is he going to do now?

Before he knows it, tears start pooling in his eyes, and soon after they drip hotly down his cheeks.

You lied to him.

Have you just used him all this time? Is everything a lie? Do you even love him back? Where did the lies begin? Does he even know who you are? Is this why you've been so secretive about every single detail of your life? Because everything is just made up?

And he just let you. He put up with all of it because he is a pathetic romantic who believes in soulmates. Because he is so desperate to find love. You lied to him with every fibre of your being. And he kissed you. He made love to you. He held you and comforted you. Hell, he even let down his best friend because of you. How could he have been so stupid?

Renjun simply has no words. And he doesn't think he has anything to say to you ever again. He just wants to know why, and how, but he doesn't want to ask you because you're going to lie your way out of it anyway, no?

Shaky legs allow him to get up and walk over into the living room where all your stuff is scattered around.

He is so stupid. He let you live with him. He trusted you without question.

And you used him.

He never wants to see you or any of your stuff ever again, he decides as he kicks against your backpack leaned against the couch, wincing in pain immediately as the contents of the backpack appear to be much more solid than he presumed. His hands grab ahold of his injured foot, causing him to pathetically jump around on one leg until he gives up and falls onto the couch. Wow, he can't even have his dramatic meltdown without being an embarrassing idiot.

The next few hours he spends mostly crying or angrily pacing around. He's thrown all your stuff into a corner and covered it with a blanket so he doesn't need to get reminded of how he's just a pathetic loser every few minutes, although it doesn't help.

He is not sure whether to be upset about the fact that you can't use your phone at work or not, he only knows that by the time 2pm comes around (the time you get off work) he starts to panic.

He is not going to face you. Not now, not like this, preferably not ever. He debates if he should call you, but knowing how easily influenced he is, he'd probably let you lull him in again. No way is he going to face you, nor your voice, nor your texts. All that's left to notify you that Renjun wants you out of his life immediately is a handwritten note to leave while he goes and takes a walk, and hopefully by the time he comes back, you and all your stuff are gone.

Unfortunately, before he can even get a pen and a piece of paper, he hears the keys jiggling as the door is being unlocked. Renjun briefly debates whether jumping out the window would hurt less than this encounter.

"Honey I'm h-" your face comes into view, and Renjun feels his heart beat up his throat. He feels so uncomfortable, so bad, so stupid, so pathetic. "What's wrong?"

Okay, great. It seems to be written all over his face how his morning went.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Is all he gets out, cringing at how shaky his voice is, how weak and cracked it sounds after he's dramatically sobbed for a good half of his morning.

"What do you mean?" Your brows contort, and Renjun is glad that he for once does not feel any sexual attraction to you while you're fighting. This was too much.

"Maybe how you lied to me about every single aspect of your life?"

"Huh??"

Renjun wipes his face with one hand. "Didn't know you could hack."

The utter confusion on your face turns into an expression of shock, fear even. "Oh God, oh God."

"That's right, now you remember," Renjun says passive aggressively.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," you say, not meeting Renjun's eyes as you hold your stomach.

"Listen. I'm not going to scream at you. I just want you out. Out of here and out of my life," Renjun says and is surprised at how calm he appears.

"No, no, no, please. I can explain-"

"You can explain all you want, how can I ever believe something you say ever again after all you did was lie? Do you even love me?" Renjun raises his voice against his own better judgement, tears appearing in his eyes once again, but he doesn't let them spill out. He can't give you that kind of satisfaction.

By now, you're kneeling on the floor. The one and a half meters separating you from him feel endless, you're crying restlessly and Renjun doesn't even feel a pinch of empathy for you.

"I do! I love you, please, Renjun, please, you're all I have," you beg.

At this, Renjun feels his heart shatter a little more. Maybe he does have a bit of empathy for you. At the same time, a new wave of anger arises.

"I trusted you. I gave you everything. And you just- you lied. All you did was lie!"

"That's not true! I-" you suddenly crawl over to him and Renjun takes a step back. "I promise. I love you. Maybe the beginning was- fucked up, but everything after that was sincere! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please!"

At this point, the gates of pride can no longer contain Renjun's tears and he breaks down as well, his knees hit the floor in front of you and he begins sobbing. "How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," is all you reply, hands reaching out to touch him, and he flinches back, but somehow still lets it happen, lets your arms wrap around him and burry your face in the crook of his neck as you pathetically whimper into the fabric of his shirt.

Renjun follows suit. Of course, he hates you right now, but a very big part of him is in love with you – or rather with the version of you that you made up (???). Not listening to the part of his consciousness screaming at him to stop, he wraps his arms around you as well, crying wholeheartedly against your shaking body.

He has no idea how long you sit there, his legs have gone numb at this point, everything hurts, and then you finally speak up.

"I can explain. It's not good, it's not nice, it's no excuse, but I at least want you to know the truth and not whatever truth you've made up in your head."

Renjun nods. He shouldn't, but he wants you to tell him what really happened.

He also hates that you know him so well.

You somehow find yourselves on the living room floor a few minutes later. Renjun's brought two bottles of water to hydrate after that crying fest out there.

"So, the app," you start, not meeting Renjun's eyes in the slightest. "I used to- work for them."

You take some time to let that sink in. Renjun decides he does not want to respond until the end.

"There was a huge data leakage, and I thought I had it under control, but turns out I didn't, which is why I had to meet you to get you to delete your profile- it's complicated. Or maybe I just made it complicated. But that is why.. you got that weird match. Usually, you can visit that person's profile, but obviously I couldn't have you see it was me because of- our previous encounter, which by the way wasn't planned! It was really just a coincidence!"

Renjun is unsure how this is making him feel.

"Anyway, so I came over. You went to the bathroom and I deleted the app of your phone. Silly me apparently forgot that i had to delete the profile, which is why I came back. I didn't plan for us to hook up again- or whatever. I just needed enough time to delete your profile, which I fucked up. This is already bad enough, but it gets worse."

Renjun does not like where this is going.

"Obviously, I got fired. And you know my situation by now, this was literally all I had. With what I had saved, it lasted me about half a year until I had no money left, I had no idea what to do. I applied for jobs everywhere, but no one was willing to hire me after finding out why I got fired last time. This is where it gets really fucked up. I'm sorry."

Your nervous fiddling makes Renjun believe you, even though he is not sure if he should.

"I- thought that... oh, God, this is so bad."

"Just say it," Renjun says and is not really surprised by how dead inside he sounds.

"Well, I thought that maybe if I like had sex with you again, you'd let me stay with you? I really don't know what the plan was, but... literally you're the only person I knew and... I don't know, I just thought- I guess I didn't think. But then you said you didn't want to have sex anymore, but wanted me to stay anyway- so I... used you... I mean, I still... liked you? Obviously, or else I wouldn't've slept with you.. twice! I mean- God, I'm such a horrible person.."

Renjun doesn't have to say anything to that.

"Well, and then things went so great – except for the Jaemin thing – and for the first time ever, I felt loved? Because I was? Literally, half the time I wished I would've stayed the time we first hooked up so we could have a normal relationship that isn't based on me trying to save my ass and using you... But everything was so beautiful. You made me feel safe, and I pretty much forgot about the app. I really just enjoyed being with you. I enjoyed falling in love with you. Even meeting your parents and friends, how you sorted out the Jaemin thing for me..."

Renjun believes you are genuine.

"That's it... I think.. I just- I'm sorry... I shouldn't have lied to you.. I should've just been honest from the beginning and said I made a mistake or whatever but- I don't know, I didn't. I guess I was scared? I don't know.. But please, I need you to believe me when I say everything after that was real. I love you. I like you, everything about you, and not only because you're kind and offered me a home... basically, no. I like you for you. I love you. Even if you-" you choke up briefly "decide that you don't want to be with me anymore, I just need you to believe me when I say... that I truly love you. I never lied about that, ever. Not once. And I wouldn't in a million years."

"Is that all?" Renjun asks after a minute. You, looking at him for the first time, nod. Before his heart can start beating again, before the butterflies can come back, he needs to remind himself that you used him. You used him and you lied.

"I mean, this is a lot," Renjun starts. You suddenly seem to be unable to look at him anymore. "I feel- actually I don't really know how I feel, but thank you for.. being honest, I hope?"

"I promise."

"I'm going to be honest, I feel... betrayed?"

"Rightfully so."

"I need some time to think about it... Is it.. okay.." Renjun rethinks his decision of asking you beforehand, "I'm going to need to take a walk.. clear my head, make up my mind. I'm not going to ask you to stay, but I'm also not asking you to leave. Do what you will..."

"I understand," you nod, and Renjun gets up. "Wait-"

Renjun halts and turns around to look at you getting up from your place on the carpet. "This might be.. wrong? Toxic? But... can I... if this is the last time I can... if you decide to.. not be with me... can I kiss you one last time?"

Renjun feels his throat close up at your words. Either you're a really, really good liar or you're being honest about your feelings. His breath hitches, his heart performs summersaults in his chest, and his voice trembles, "you can."

Carefully you lean in, slowly pressing your lips against his. There is not much going on, your hands gently hover on his shoulders, barely touching him at all, and your lips just stay still against his. Still, Renjun feels like a thousand silent words and a million hidden emotions clear up as his eyes close to feel you against him. His breath is shaky, he feels himself getting hot as more tears well up behind his closed lids. He really doesn't want to let you go.

As you part from him, his lips chase you for a split second before he realizes what he's doing. "I should get going."

"Be safe." You nod again and Renjun hears the threatening tears in your voice. God, how badly he wants to believe you.

'I love you, I love you!', his heart screams at him to scream at you, but he doesn't. Instead, he steps out of the room, grabs his keys, slips into his shoes and jacket, and heads out without looking back.

The cold air hits his face. Yet, unlike in the movies, he still doesn't feel any clearer. He still feels used and betrayed, he still feels like shit, but he knows he loves you. But is that enough of a reason to forgive you?

He tries to be logical, debate his options, but he can't focus. All that swirls around his brain is how your lips felt on his, and he wonders if kissing you was a mistake. This stupid, romantic mind of his...

Inevitably, after walking around the neighborhood for a good hour, thinking of nothing and everything, he decides that maybe he still isn't in the right mind to make a decision on his own. But who is he going to ask? Fucknut #1 and Serial-Fucker #2? Definitely not.

Therefore, he is glad his mother answers the phone after the second ring. Immediately, she knows something is up, and Renjun repeats the things you have told him (with less sexual details, as to be expected) to his mother who listens patiently.

Except for a "that's where I know her from!" and a short explanation how she saw a picture of you amongst your colleagues when she read that article about the love app, she just listens. Maybe he should've asked her about it back then, about the article. Maybe none of this would have happened. But then, he wouldn't have you in his life.

When he is done and asks for advice, she appears calm.

"Oh, Junnie. Love can be a funny thing. See, when I met your father, it wasn't easy either. Both of our families were against us, our lives were so different from each other, and still, there was so much connecting us that it had to be fate. I know it's hard to trust after something like this, I can only imagine what you're feeling right now, but you're a smart kid, you'll know what's right."

"But what would you do? What do you think?" Renjun asks.

His mother sighs and chuckles slightly. "Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic like you are, but... people make mistakes, Junnie. The universe brought you together so many times, I think it's fate. I don't know if you should forgive her, but I know I would."

"You would? You don't think I'm crazy? You don't think I'm letting her walk all over me?"

"Not that this should matter, but you haven't been completely honest with her either if I remember correctly?" His mom reminds him, and Renjun suddenly feels a bit lighter.

"The psychic," he mumbles.

"That's right. She told you you were going to be alone forever if you didn't meet someone by the end of this year, and that's the reason you signed up for that app in the first place. And a part of me believes that that's the reason why you even let her stay with you, why you were so willing to ignore all signs that something was up. Maybe you already knew?" His mother suggests and Renjun doesn't like it one bit how similar they are. Or maybe he does.

"How do you know me so well?" He whines, feeling a bit more confident about letting that kiss linger in his mind for so long.

"I raised you!" She chuckles and Renjun can feel himself smile. He thanks her again before ending the call before turning on his heels to head back home. God, he only hopes you're still there.

______

When Renjun unlocks the door to the apartment, his hands are shaking. It took him a good three attempts to finally get the key into the lock. Admittedly, he is nervous because, well, for obvious reasons, but he also isn't sure if you're still there. Your past of skidaddling when things get serious gives him every right to feel anxious as he listens for any signs of you still being around as he takes of his shoes.

He doesn't dare call out for you, instead he begins searching the place. He's not sure what's going to happen when he finds you since, well, it hasn't been nice of him to just leave you behind, but what was he going to do?!

His search is pointless, he realizes as he steps out of the last room, the bathroom, and you're not there. Honestly, he wasn't really confident that you'd still be there, but he had hope. What raises his eyebrow is that your stuff is still there, no longer cramped into the corner he threw them in a few hours ago, but neatly sorted and packed in case this was really the final day of your stay. But, point is: it's still there. Now why in the world would you head off and go your own way and leave all that behind.

It's then when the door is unlocked once again, your figure slipping in, red and puffy eyes meeting the puzzled Renjun standing in the hallway.

"Y-you're back," you deduct correctly, taking off your shoes and stepping inside.

"Sure am." Renjun isn't sure why he still sounds so pissed when he is here to forgive you. On a second thought, maybe he's too quick with it? Should he really listen to his mom and just- forgive you? Just like that? Oh, he already knows Donghyuck is going to put out a whole speech about how Renjun is "high on pussy" and "not thinking straight". But... he wants to. He wants to forgive you. He wanted to from the very first moment he saw that weird E-Mail. He just couldn't. And now he can... can he?

"I just went out to get your favorite snack from the little store down the street.. I thought it might... make you feel better," you finally reveal why you left the apartment and Renjun's heart jumps. "I dunno, I just- wanted to do something nice regardless of your decision." You nod to yourself.

Renjun just looks at you as you are unable to meet his eyes.

"They didn't have it, so I went to the other store, the one by the subway station, and they actually were out of stock, but I begged the guy to go check if they had some left somewhere," you inform him, shyly looking up at him, "my current state must've convinced him it was urgent." You smile weakly and motion to your face.

Renjun can't keep his strong demeanor up any longer. Two big steps (wow, he has to inform his doctor that his legs must've grown a few centimeters) and he's right in front of you, cupping your cheeks. "I love you," he simply says, your face so confused that you can only stutter a few syllables before Renjun crashes his lips to yours.

And, God, does it feel good. Honestly, he has so much more time to actually think about what you did, and what it means in the future, but he needs you here with him, right now, always and forever. Sure, it's going to take a bit for him to built his trust again, but for now, he doesn't actually care.

"I love you too," you manage to breathe out when Renjun parts from you.

"I realized a few things. And I may have been a bit dramatic? But, well, I also have a confession to make."

_____

Renjun pushed the admittedly tacky (and stereotypical? Renjun did get slight cultural appropriation vibes) curtain aside to slip into the dimly lit room, although once he entered, the aura of the room changed his mind completely. It's not that he had a sense for spirituality, but he has always been deeply interested in the matter, which made him glad his mother suggested to try it out once.

So this was it, Renjun's first Tarot card reading.

The lady had been super nice, Renjun could tell by one single glance she was competent and very able to perform this life changing reading for him.

"What question brings you here today?" She asked, shuffling her deck of cards which Renjun could not take his eyes off.

"Ask about your love life!" His mom urged beside him, giggling like the sunshine she is, and Renjun chuckled quickly before averting his eyes to look at the lady in front of them.

"Just- my future? If there is anything important I should know?" He decided since that would not exclude his mom's interests.

"Very well," the lady nodded and began shuffling the cards quicker, her hands rushing until one card fell out.

"Ah, The Fool," she explained, and Renjun frowned. His mother couldn't contain a chuckle. "Do not worry, dear. This is no description of your self. Instead The Fool can symbolize new beginnings. There is most likely change waiting for you."

Renjun felt his heart beat up his throat in a positive way, making him giddy to find out more. The lady shuffled her cards some more until two cards fell out at the same time.

"Here we have The Ace of Cups, upright, and The Lovers. There appears to be a new relationship waiting for you, a romantic one."

Renjun gently elbowed his mom next to him who seemed as erratic as he was right now.

"Oh dear, The High Priestess in reverse... this new relationship might be full of secrets, which can be good or bad, exciting or dangerous," The lady deducted, and Renjun gulped.

As she started shuffling again, three cards sprang out of the deck immediately, making even Renjun feel the urgency.

"Two of Wands, The Hermit, The Ace Of Pentacles," the lady read out, sounding worried.

"Why? What does it mean?" Renjun asked, worry also evident in his tone.

"Two of Wands might represent the urgency of this. You have to take action soon, or else – here comes The Hermit – you may find loneliness. The Ace of Pentacles shows us the time frame: one year. I get the strong feeling these cards are telling you to hurry finding that love, or you might be alone forever."

_____

"So basically that's why you've been this patient with me?"

"Basically," Renjun responds, feeling a bit bad about it, "I feel like I should've told you sooner?"

"Jun, don't worry. You're not the one who messed up here. If anything, this makes me feel a tiny bit better about how manipulative I've been..." You admit, frowning.

"Well, I'm not the only one calling the shots here," Renjun summarizes, "so I'm asking you: Do you still want to be my girlfriend?"

"Are you joking? I feel like you are," you say, a wide grin spreading over your face.

"Nope, I'm super serious," Renjun chuckles and pokes your shoulder for reasons he is not aware of.

"Wow, and here I was contemplating to offer you anal to make up for it," you joke (?).

Renjun blinks at you, his smile falling into a crooked smirk at the proposal of your kind offering. "I mean... is the offer still on the table?"

"You are such a man," you pinch him, but do not reject the idea.

"What if we did it right now? Right here?" Renjun suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you closer to his body and starts kissing your neck. His tone (hopefully) brings across that he's joking, that you obviously won't do it right now, but not never either, if you're still up for it.

"You'd be the first," you chuckle before kissing Renjun's nose.

"Stop making me hard," he mumbles before attacking you with more kisses. "I know it's only been like a few hours, but I missed you so much. Let's not fight ever again, yeah?"

"I agree," you say and Renjun pulls back to look at you. Maybe this is silly, maybe he forgives too easily, but it just feels right. The look in your eyes is so genuine, as was the offer of doing butt stuff, that Renjun is just pretty much sure that this was this one big thing every relationship has and now it will only get better.

"Or is there anything else you need to tell me," Renjun teases.

"Not a thing, you now know everything there is to know about me, which, admittedly, isn't that much.. do you have a confession to make?"

Renjun thinks for a second. "Well, just this one thing. Remember when we went to Jaemin's to talk things out? He was practically naked when I went in there and I may have stared a bit until I remembered that he is disgusting."

"Oh, word. His chest is super-"

"Hey." Renjun furrows his brows half playfully joking, half dead serious. "I get to say that. You don't."

You mimic zipping your mouth shut, locking it and throwing the key away. Renjun laughs and takes your hand in his to hold. "So, all this talk about anal and Jaemin... why don't we take this to the bedroom?"

"You really won't let this go, huh?" You smirk. "I'd say: what comes around goes around. Whatever you do to my butt, I'll do to yours."

"I believe I have never loved you more than right now," Renjun sighs before kissing you once again, on the mouth this time, and he feels like time stands still and rushes past double it's normal speed. His hands wander over your body, taking everything in, feeling you against him because you are his, once again, finally. Your hands are as excited touching him, and it dawns on Renjun that you're probably not going to make it to the bedroom, which is fine since he owns this entire place anyway (it's a rental, but you get the point).

Both of your clothes are off in no time, leaving Renjun's hands to freely roam over your naked skin, and it feels just as exhilarating as if you'd never had that fight. That stupid, stupid fight, right now, Renjun can't even remember what it was about, but that could partly be because of the lack of blood in his brain. His heavy erection is currently pressed heavenly against your lower stomach as you make out wildly, and Renjun can't even think about the usual foreplay he finds so important as you start rubbing your wetness all over him. He just wants to be in you, be connected to you, feel all of you against and around him, have the both of you desperately grinding and panting against each other.

Although, he feels kind of more dominant today, maybe there is still a very slight aftertaste of your betrayal lingering and he feels the need to show you that he can be in control over you if he wants to, or maybe he just feels extra manly and prideful today after you did everything to prove to him that you want him in your life. He decides that being on top would be enough to satisfy that need, so he gently pushes you back and lays you down on your back.

His tip brushes over your clit and you whine, a sound that is music to Renjun's ears, and when you speak up and practically beg him to just "put it in", who is he to deny you that wish?

Aligning himself with your hole, he gently pushes forward, allowing his tip to disappear between your velvety walls, and he loves how your eyes roll back and you gasp at how good he feels.

"Only the tip and you're already drooling," he observes, biting his lower lip smugly before pulling back out and repeating the action of fucking just the tip into you several times before giving in to your quiet pleas and pushes all the way in.

You choke on your moan at this, eyes glazed over with lust finding Renjun's under eyebrows furrowed by pleasure. Renjun can already feel you pulsating around him and God does that stroke his ego.

Although he decides he could be having more of an effect on you right now, so he places your legs on his shoulders instead of around his waist, and practically folds you in half to open you up for him so he can fill you deeper, so deeply his tip grazes at your cervix. To intensify your pleasure, his fingers come up to rub at your wet clit, three fingers massaging the nub in quick circles, the wetness allowing him to glide over the surface perfectly.

And your body seems to agree. In no time – Renjun's sure he must've set a new record – you announce that you're ready, seconds away from reaching your high, and Renjun thinks twice about letting you taste it. Well, you did kind of fuck up, but fuck it. Renjun loves the look on your face when you cum just too much to deny you it, instead spurring you on by telling you just how good you are for him, what a perfect girl you are and how much he loves having you cum on his cock.

Seconds later, you orgasm, clamping walls choking his dick in the best way possible, the look on your face and the moans sounding from your throat so pretty that Renjun feels like he's fallen in love all over again. When you come down, he praises you and kisses you, never missing an opportunity to tell you just how perfect you are.

"More," you whisper to him, eyelids heavy as your blurred view tries to find Renjun's eyes, and he briefly chuckles before granting your wish.

"Greedy are we?" He sets a faster pace this time, balls slapping against your ass where your wetness had already dripped down and probably seeped into the couch. Renjun feels so good, so happy, so fulfilled, and he is once again reminded why it was the right decision to forgive you. He is such a man, he thinks, and is reminded of a few minutes ago when you said that to him.

"Can you turn around for me, baby?" He asks, suddenly in the mood to watch your ass as he repeatedly disappears into you, and you comply, allowing him to pull out before getting on your hands and knees. Renjun grins seeing your beautiful ass in front of him, he gently slaps it two times before gently pressing on your back to get you to lie down for him again, though this time on your stomach. He enters you again, filling you up perfectly once again, like you were made for each other, and he puts his entire weight on you to be able to still whisper in your ear.

His fingers find your hair, not to pull, just to be there so you feel it, and as he rams himself inside repeatedly, he mumbles the dirtiest things to you, about how well you're taking him, how beautiful you look underneath him and how much he just loves to fuck you. And yes, he even goes into detail (damnit Donghyuck) about how perfectly tight you are for him. A hand sneaks between your body and the couch, fingers quickly finding your clit again and you whine.

"'s so good," you say, voice trembling, "love you s'much."

"I love you too, baby," Renjun responds, grinning ear to ear like a maniac because he just loves this effect he has on you. This might just be a fantasy, but he's sure he's the only one who could ever make you feel this good. And admittedly, even right now when you're not doing much except take it, you make him feel just as good.

"Fuck, I think I'm gonna cum," he grunts, and you whine, cunt clenching around him at the mere prospect of him reaching his high.

"Me too, God," you manage to bring out.

"Where do you want it?" Renjun asks. Although he already knows your answer, he loves hearing you say it.

"I-inside, please," you mewl, arching your back a bit more to give him perfect access, "cu- cumming, cumming, cumming."

And just as you orgasm around him, walls wrapping around Renjun's cock impossibly tight, he follows suit, pressing his hips against your ass to fill you as deeply as possible. He pushes in a few more times to really get it all in there, have all his cum so deep inside you'll still feel it the next day.

"God, fuck, I love you so much," he pants, now a little exhausted as the adrenaline washes off. He pulls out, allowing you to turn around on your back and smile at him. God, he loves seeing you fucked out like this.

"I love you," you reply, then your nose scrunches and Renjun remembers that, when you shoot cum inside someone, it's going to inevitably drip back out, and he doesn't have to ruin his couch any more than he already did.

______

Renjun's arm is draped over your body, cuddling and talking in bed after the intense 4 rounds you just had, and maybe Renjun should've seen it coming, but honestly? How could he? So he jumps as he hears the doorbell ring.

"Who the fuck..." he mumbles as he gets up, puts on some underwear (at least) and stumbles to the door.

"Tell them to come back tomorrow, I'm not done with you," you giggle behind him as you slip into one of Renjun's shirts and a pair of panties you find laying on the floor. Renjun grins and throws you a wink before turning on the speaker.

"Hello?"

"Congratulations!"

"What the fuck are you asshats doing here?" Renjun groans and hides his face in his unoccupied hand. You have stepped over and are now pressing your ear against the speaker to be able to listen as well.

"We heard the news and came to celebrate?" Jaemin says.

"Actually, we didn't know how it went so we brought booze either for celebrating or for condolences. We took a wild guess," Donghyuck adds.

"How do you even-"

"Your mom told me."

"I don't think I appreciate you being involved with my mom..."

"Your words, not mine. Now open up."

"We're not exactly... dressed appropriately," Renjun informs and he can hear Jaemin howl and Donghyuck laugh.

"Let us in, we'll give you 2 minutes," Jaemin says.

"As if I'm going to believe you'd be passing an opportunity to barge in and see my girlfriend in her undies," Renjun says.

"Open up!" Donghyuck pushes.

"We just fucked four times!" You chime in, and Renjun isn't sure why you needed to clarify what didn't need to be clarified. Especially since, except for a few cheers that die down quickly, it's silent for a good 20 seconds until Donghyuck informs you that the old lady living two floors below just came home and most definitely heard that.

"Just let us in," Jaemin shouts right into the speaker and Renjun has to hold it away from his ear to not go deaf.

"Are you okay with this? I'm sure I could make them leave... somehow..."

"Sure! I could take two more," you joke and Renjun squints at you, making you teasingly roll your eyes. "Kidding."

"Okay, give us a few," Renjun says and just hangs up before they can complain. You both run into the bedroom and get changed into relatively acceptable clothing and Renjun has the decency to at least open a window to make the strong smell of sex lighten a bit before he checks in with you again, then opens the door.

Donghyuck and Jaemin's hollers can be heard echoing through the hallways until they finally show up at Renjun's door step.

"Nice work, man," Jaemin compliments as he sees the state of your still slightly tousled hair, and pats Renjun's back. They take off their shoes and let themselves in. While Jaemin stores the alcohol they brought in the fridge, Donghyuck skips into the living room to occupy Renjun's phone charger.

Oh, no. The living room.

Renjun darts after him, holding onto the door frame to not fall from the immense speed of his sprint, but it's too late. Donghyuck is already grinning at the used tissues scattered around the place and Renjun's underwear dangling from the uplight.

"You really are just high on pussy, it seems," Donghyuck teases, clearly hinting at how Renjun forgave you too (?) quickly. "You're not thinking straight. Or too straight..."

"You don't even know the whole story," Renjun defends himself while crossing his arms.

"Don't worry man, I'm not judging. I feel like this is the right thing for you," Donghyuck says and Renjun is surprised at his choice of words... such a... lack of disgusting-ness? Donghyuck even trots over and places a brotherly hand on Renjun's shoulder and gives him a smile.

"Thank you," Renjun says and means it. Donghyuck takes a few steps back, bows, then his eyes lock in on something on the floor.

"I think I'm taking these with me," Donghyuck announces before bending down further and holding up your panties with his forefinger.

"Don't you dare-" Renjun warns, but Donghyuck already started pushing the fabric into his pocket.

"Take it out," you say, suddenly appearing behind Renjun. Donghyuck seems taken aback, especially as you step over and grab his hair. "Give. Them. Back."

You pull hard, only once, and Donghyuck moans, but complies, and Renjun is party impressed and partly enraged.

"Starting without me?" Jaemin grins as he, too, has appeared in the room by now.

"Guys, I think we need some boundaries regarding my girlfriend," Renjun hisses through grit teeth. You agree, finally letting go of Donghyuck's hair who falls to his knees. Jaemin shrugs and sits down on the couch just as Renjun stuffs the used tissues into his pocket.

"What do you say?" You address Donghyuck who whines out a pathetic apology. You grin. "Sorry, this is kind of fun," you whisper to Renjun.

"I mean if you want to, you could talk like that to me every once in a while-" Renjun mumbles back, immediately feeling you cling to his side.

"Yeah?" You bite your lip.

"There was some talk about boundaries?" Jaemin recalls and you back off a bit. "When I can't have it, at least don't rub it in my face- unless you're going to literally rub it in my face-"

"I swear to God-"

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

#renjun smut #huang renjun smut #nct renjun smut #renjun fluff #renjun angst #huang renjun fluff #huang renjun angst #nct renjun fluff #nct renjun angst #nct #kpop #smut #nct fanfic #kpop smut #fem reader #nct dream #nct x reader #huang renjun x reader #renjun x reader #neohub

[toothfa-1-ry]

NCT DREAM AS ODDLY SPECIFIC (ISH) TROPES/AUS EXCEPT ITS ALL ANGSTY (OT7)

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, cheating(?) in Haechan's part, reader wears dresses, reader is mentioned as prom Queen I'm Haechan's part), mentions of God in Jisung's part

GENRE: Angst, gn reader

A/N: I'm sorry for being so inactive and not posting so much (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ also I'm still new to writing for Chenle and Jisung so it might not be accurate??

Also please reblog or comment something if you enjoyed!!

✧\(> ⋋✿ • ° • ✿⋌ <)ﾉ✧

"you were my first love, I wish you were my last too" - Mark Lee

First love, idol au, idol x non idol

Mark Lee was the first boy you ever loved. The first boy you fell inlove with, the first person who you could see a future with. He was who you wished to have a future with. He was going to be the one, he will be the one.

That's what you always told yourself, that if he loved you and you loved him it was enough, all the things you wanted didn't matter if the both of you were together. Maybe if you had continued telling that to yourself things would have worked out.

Now, you stare at him through the TV screen remembering the time once when you could look at him up close. You watch him sing and dance and do all the things he loved. All the things he couldn't do with you but now that you were gone from his life he could do it all, he could live his life, he could actually be happy.

You watched all his live concerts hoping for him to catch you in the crowds atleast once, one small glance, one small glimpse of resemblance but this wasn't a movie where the girl gets the guy she always wanted, this wasn't a fairy tale dream you would get to live. He never saw you ever once, he never saw you no matter how many concerts you would go, or maybe he didn't want to see you, maybe he did glance over your face, maybe he did catch a glimpse. But that's all he did, that's all it was. A glimpse.

They say that first love's never last but you and Mark promised to be there together till the end "forever and always y/n. I'll always love you. Until forever ends, I promise" you remember smiling upon those words but now those words brought nothing but pain to your heart because Mark was your first love and that's what he'll always be, what he'll only be. Because first love's never last, and you and Mark weren't an exception.

"You exist now, only in my memories, forever in my memories." - Huang Renjun

Love at first sight, painter au, painter x muse

Renjun remembers the day he met you clearly. Even though it's just bits, there are some parts that he remembers clearly. He remembers the rain, he remembers the wet road and he remembers you stepping into the rain like a painting, your hair down, your red dress getting all wet, but it was your eyes that Renjun remembers the most clearly. Those star like eyes that made Renjun fall inlove with you that moment, those eyes which saw all parts of Renjun that no one had, those eyes which Renjun had painted so many times. He remembers wishing to never forget them, those eyes, that face.

But now, in the middle of the night, when he's all alone, when he can't sleep. He wishes to forget those eyes, he wishes to forget that face of yours. He wished he could forget the way you looked at him that day with fear all over your eyes. Renjun remembers the day he lost you. He remembers the rain, the wet road where you were standing in the middle, getting all wet but he remembers your eyes the most. The way it widened when the car came out of no where, the way you couldn't even scream for help, the way you looked so helpless.

But most of all he remembered himself, standing on the other side of the road all frozen, he remembers himself not even being able to breath or walk a inch towards your unmoving body which bled in the middle of the road. He remembers the way his heart cracked, the way it cracked and shattered into a million pieces unable to be fixed again.

He remembers the day he got you and the day he lost you. And he wishes he could forget them both.

"your always ones arms reach away from me yet I want your touch even more relentlessly" - Lee Jeno

Forbidden love, royalty au, knight x princess

Knight Jeno stares at you in a way which couldnt be explained. He looks at you in such a melancholy way yet there was shock painted in those sad eyes. He stares at you as you lock eyes with your husband, the future king of the neighbouring kingdom. The smile you give your husband being reminiscent to the smile you always gave Jeno but it didn't quite reaching your eyes. Your heart quite not beating for your now husband the way it beat for Jeno.

Jeno stands along with the screaming crowd as your carriage slows down for the new couple to greet the excited crowd. The crowd screams as the carriage stops, children, women and men all throwing flower petals and congratulating the couple as Jeno's stomach tightened and breath shortened. The white bouquet of roses in his hand being mushed by the grasp of his hands.

You both make eye contact for a second or two but it was all Jeno needed to know that you did remember what happened yesterday night and all the nights before. That you remembered the stolen kisses, the lingering touches. That you remembered him begging you to stay with him, to run away with him and you saying sorry again and again. You look away first and quickly but Jeno's gaze just remains at you unmoving.

He slowly walks up towards the carriage, raises his arms and throws the half dead roses at you which you catch and cradle in your arms as if it was gold. The both of you share one last look that day just like all the last kisses and touches the both of you once had shared. One last look was all Jeno needed to know that you did love him and that your heart belonged to him only but it was also all Jeno needed to know that you'll never belong with him, that your one arms reach away from him, always away from his reach and that there was nothing he could ever do to change that.

"I'm still waiting for our last dance" -Lee Haechan

Prom nigh au, lovers to exes

Being prom Queen would have been rather fun if Haechan was prom king, instead your stuck with his friend Na Jaemin who was next with you, holding your hands as the both of you glide across the cleaned gym floor which was now adorned with blue spotlights on the both of you.

The metallic crown covered in plastic gems and beads placed in your perfectly done hair and your dress twirling as Jaemin spun you around, the same dress you and Haechan picked together months before preparations for prom even began, months before the both of you broke up.

You couldn't help but wonder if Haechan would realise that it was the dress he picked, or if he'd realise that the hairstyle you wore tonight was the hairstyle he always complimented, or if he would even be looking at you slow dance with Jaemin. But you hoped that atleast he would know that a small part of you still remained with him, that a small part of you still yearned for him even after all the fights, bitter words and after the breakup. Your eyes scan the crowd searching for Haechan, every movement you took was just a chance to take a glimpse at the crowd to see where Haechan was. You finally see him, behind crowds and crowds of people but he easily stands out, his eyes being the same soft brown eyes you adored.

Your eyes meet Haechan's soft combed hair, his body adorning a neatly ironed tux, the same one you picked out months before the prom, before the breakup. The same tux you chose for him with the small rose print in the left breast pocket. A part of you wonders if Haechan feels the same way you do, if he thinks about you at night, if he wishes to change things, if he still loves you after the breakup. You heart however is torn into pieces as you watch Haechan bend down to kiss another girl, holding her hand tightly into his, his sole attention placed only on her.

For the last time you wonder if he remembers the last dance he promised you on prom night, probably not, probably for the best.

"my mind might forget your face, my skin might forget your touch, but my heart would never forget the way you made it feel" -Na Jaemin

Lovers to strangers, amnesia au

Jaemin looks at you from a distance, the empty feeling inside of him growing even more as the seconds go on. He looks at you as you hold hands with you parents, smiling, laughing. Your parents never liked Jaemin, they never liked the idea of the both of you together.

Jaemin remembers the first time he met you in the hospital, the way you refused to look him in the eye, the way you refused to acknowledge his presence. He remembers the way you apolagised for not remembering him, your heart no longer beating for his. Not anymore, not even recognising it.

Jaemin looks at the way your eyes shine now, as your mouth curves up into a smile, so radiant, so beautiful. It reminded Jaemin of the ways he used to make you smile, the sweet laughter of yours which played after all his corny jokes. All now which you had forgotten. Your eyes which always crinkled and brightened whenever you saw Jaemin now looked at him only in confusion, your sweet soft lips which used to kiss him in the death of night now no longer recognised his pink lips. Your heart which once danced along to the beat of Jaemin's heart could now no longer find the rythm which you both shared. All the golden memories now turned into dust as you fail to recognise the face that you so loved, as you fail to recognise the heart which you so loved.

You looked so happy even without the memories of Jaemin, without all the memories you spend with Jaemin, who was Jaemin to take away your happiness? If after all your happiness was all Jaemin lived for, all Jaemin was willing to live for even if it meant that he'll have to let you go.

Even if it meant that he'll have to let go the person he loved, the only person he'd ever love even though you don't even remember him.

"a plane ticket away from you but my heart will always have you as it's destination" - Zhong Chenle

Rich boy x poor girl, difference in social status,

Staring at the plane ticket in your hands, you wonder if things were really going to end this way, if it really was going to be as easy as this. Your fingers glide on the piece of paper bought by Chenle's mother, the smooth piece of paper which was going to divide you and Chenle for good. That piece of paper which was going to separate you and Chenle countries apart. You couldn't help but wonder if it was really all going to be worth it.

You look outside the small airplane window as you hear a femal voice speak, a small teardrop rolling down your tears as you clasp the plane ticket in your hand, slightly tearing it.

You had no choice but to leave, you had to leave. Not only for your sake or your families sake but for Chenle's sake, for the boy you loved. After all the boy you loved was the heir to the Zhong company and you were a just a simple girl whose family was struggling to find a ends meet. Things would have never worked out anyway. You were stupid for thinking that things could have worked out, it was all just a silly Teenage dream like how Chenle's mother had phrased it.

You think about Chenle, he's all you can think about in this moment. You think about whether he'll be hurt, whether he'll understand why you left, whether he'll understand why you took the money. A part of you hopes that he will, that he'll search for you and forgive you but a part of you also hopes to never see him again, that he'll get angry at you, curse your name. That he'll never forgive you for the horrible thing your doing and that he'll forget your existance. You'd rather have him angry at you then ruin his future, his life by involving you in it. You loved him too much to let him to that to himself.

The airplane gets ready to take off, you squirm slightly in your seat as you wipe away your tears. You close the window, your afraid that if you don't you'll just end up crying even more so you close your eyes shut not seeing the figure of a boy running towards the airplane. You don't hear the boys loud screams and shouting of your name, you don't hear him begging you to stay. You don't hear his cries as the airplane finally takes off and as his bodyguards are holding him back.

You don't hear his heart breaking because you were to busy hearing yours break.

"to all the sweet laughter under the sun we shared without worry of the days to come" -Park Jisung

Terminal illness au, highschool au,

Jisung holds your hand tightly, his warm healthy hand contrasting from your cold frail ones. His soft eyes look at your cold tired ones as he watches you shoot a tired smile at him. Jisung forces a smile back, trying to fight the ever-growing lump in his throat, the water in his eyes pooling whenever he sees you lying down in your bed. Jisung fights back the horrible thoughts in his heads, the words he heard the doctor say to your parents a few minutes ago ringing again and again in his head

Your the strongest person Jisung knew, the most stubborn. He knew that you were going to be okay, that your going to be fine. He knew that your going to stay in the hospital only for a few more days before you fully recover and the both of you can go back to complaining about algebra class and making fun of Mark. He knew that the tubes sticking out of your body, the injections you take everyday was just going to be a phase. That you'll be able to go outside and walk around freely without being stuck in a wheelchair. Jisung believed in miracles, he believed in you after all you were a angel in disguise for Jisung. You were his blessing

But angels come from heaven, you belong to heaven too. Jisung watches as you close your eyes his heart hammering, he watches as you breath slows down, as your grip becomes weaker. Jisung's eyes widen, his body begins panicking as your machine begins beeping, he screams for help.

He prays and prays, it's too short he says. Your time in earth is too short, your time with him is far too short. You can't leave him yet your both only kids, you both have the rest of your lives to live. You still have a life to live with Jisung. You still have to keep your promise to Jisung, to build a house together, own a pet cat. He continues praying as the doctors take you away for a emergency surgery, using up all his breath, his words. Begging that of there really was a god out there, to save you. To save the person he loved, to perform a miracle.

But if there really was a god out there, a creator of life and the bringer of death. They must have been cruel to Jisung because now your heart which once beat, your heart which Jisung adored now remained cold and unmoving. The minute your heart stopped was when Jisung's heart also froze. After all he lost his miracle, his only blessing.

He lost you, his highschool love and only love

#nct #nct dream #nct dream angst #nct dream fic #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #nct dream au #nct dream x reader #nct angst #nct fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct x reader #nct dream x you #mark lee angst #huang renjun angst #nct jeno angst #haechan angst #na jaemin angst #nct fanfic #chenle angst #park jisung angst #nct mark #mark x reader #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin angst #jaemin x reader #renjun x reader

[philly-interlude]

[5:49 AM]

"no fuck- y/n! that is not how you cook an omelette god!!!"

"ugh. try harder will you?! don't be such a pathetic"

"dumb woman"

never have you ever in your life would've thought that the so-called loving and kind prince would be such the opposite.

you were so tired of hearing the neverending complains and complaints of your husband, though from the start you know by the look on his eyes, he could never be the mask he's portraying in public.

you might need a hearing aid from the careless shouts of his perfectionism towards you, as a non-royal, you were still learning.

but why won't he just teach you calmly? why should he be like this? why not treat you lightly? are you just a piece of trash? you are literally his wife, and hence, you're still trying to be like them (royal-bloods).

"shut up!" there. stunned, confused, mad, that's what he felt when you snapped directly on his face.

"renjun, i am trying okay?? i- i am bloody trying! i am trying to be bloody perfect like you! i am trying to be a good wife for you-! please..." almost begging, the waterline of your eyes filled with tears.

tears ricocheting down the tiled floor, your fragile village girl heart could never take a painful treatment like that from a royal.

eye to eye, his couldn't take off of yours.

heart to heart, but his complicates to connect.

not longer, you barged out from home. you wish you could call it home if he himself is worth to be.

#huang renjun #husband!renjun #renjun angst #huang renjun angst #nct dream renjun #nct renjun #renjun x reader #nct dream timestamps #prince!renjun #nct timestamps

[daegall]

Huang Renjun is an asshole.

pairing: (slight) bad boy!renjun x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst,

warnings: lots of swearing, a scratch on a motorbike lol

word count: 1.4k words

a/n: for anon!!!! you gave me an idea, i write it ^^ i hope you enjoyed, i poured my entire soul into this LMAOAO

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @ficscafe @kflixnet @k-radio @neozonenet @nct-writers + @soobin-chois @treasuretaeil

Huang Renjun is an asshole.

He's a selfish little shit who can't even spare some of his time to spend time with you. His significant other. It's been a week since you've talked to him, and the last time you did, it was an argument over the time he's spent doing other shit instead of spending time with you.

Are you upset at him? Yes, completely.

Can you stay like that forever? As much as you want to, no. No you can't

Although you pretty much want to punch his face, you still miss his face as well. The way his frown would flip when you crack a stupid joke, the way his eyes would shine whenever you look into them. You don't know what's up with them, but they're absolutely stunning. And you miss them. You miss him. Everything about him.

The birthmark on the pack of his hand, the way he would let you draw on top of it and stare at it as much as you want. He never liked it when someone stared at his birthmark.

'I don't care if you stare,' He had said, 'I know you wouldn't judge. That's what I love about you.'

Love your ass. If he loved you, he would understand and acknowledge all he passed time he didn't spend with you.

You grimace at the thought of meeting him again. What would happen if you met again? Would he even want to meet again?

As much as you claim you loathe him, you're scared. Would he end things with you?

Just as your thoughts become messy with negativity, there's a thump at your window. Very loud, you suspect it's a rock. When you look out your window, your suspicions are confirmed, as there Huang Renjun is himself, a few more rocks sitting at the palm of his hand, ready to throw if you don't answer him.

And just as you turn away, there's another thump at your window, and this time it's a lot louder.

Whipping around, you throw open yoru window, and grab a random object from your table and throw it towards Renjun. "Oh my fucking god stop that! I swear if this window breaks because of your stupid rocks, you're paying to fix it."

Renjun is relieved to hear you. A bit scared, but so very relieved. He leans down to pick up whatever you threw at him, finding that it's the shell you brought home from the beach day you both decided to have together, the shell with the crab. You didn't know it had a crab until you came home.

"This is Keith's shell."

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Right. He was here to apologize. "Can you come down?"

Renjun can sense your pondering, the contemplation creasing your face.

"Please?" He adds, "I promise I won't be long."

You're convinced to go downstairs and meet him, much to your surprise. Maybe it was because of how much you missed him.

When you swing open the gate, you take notice of Renjun's attire. No usual all black outfit that you always laughed at and called 'edgy', no usual neat and tidy hair that he claimed stole all the eyes, and no harsh gaze.

Instead, he's fresh out of his pajamas, his hair is anything but neat, sticking up everywhere and even falling in front of his eyes, and his gaze is oh so soft, you sense a little bit of guilt as well.

"Hey," Renjun mumbles.

"Hi,"

It's silent for a few moments, with only the sounds of crickets, and faint cars passing by, before the both of you open your mouths to speak simultaneously.

"So—"

"That's—"

Renjun halts, just so you can finish your sentence.

"I—that's—can I have Keith's shell back?"

At your slow, quiet voice, Renjun can't help but chuckle, finding the way you grab the shell from his palm very cute. Your fingertip brushes only just slightly against his palm, the first form of contact in a whole week.

"Your turn," You mumble softly, waiting for him to say his own sentence.

"I'm sorry." He starts. "I know I've been a really shitty boyfriend. I know you want to punch me, and believe me I do to."

You want to be mad at him, just as you were a few minutes ago, but with him standing in front of you, speaking, you don't find the rage anymore. You're not mad, but your heart still aches.

"You just—you're—you scare the shit out of me."

At this, you let out an unintentional hum of confusion. Renjun ought to melt at such action, sighing.

"What I feel for you is so genuine, Y/n. I've never felt this way before. I love you, so fucking much that it scares me! How can someone ever make me feel so fond, so special? I'll be truthful with you, I've thought about you so much. I see you in my future, I see you there with me, because I don't ever want to lose you. I've never been so afraid of losing someone, but at the same time it's fucking terrifying to keep you so close, you know? What if I screw up so badly, that you never want to see me ever again?"

Renjun can't look at you, even if he wanted. What he's admitting is something he swore he would never tell anyone about, something so raw that he might even hate himself for admitting it out loud.

He's unaware of the relief that flows through you, the absolute awe he makes you feel when the words pour from his mouth. He's completely oblivious at the fact that you feel the exact same way.

"I'm sorry for being a shitty boyfriend. If I could go back and take back what I said, I'd do it."

Finally, Renjun's head swings up to look at you, staring into your eyes. They hold his whole world, his universe, might he even say, and you have never looked more ethereal than now.

"I'd do anything for you,"

He'd go hours and hours to see you, even if you were across the world. He'd go get your favorite snacks found only in that one convenience store, even if it was at the most ungodly hour of the night. He'd take back everything he said last week, just to make things right.

"Huang Renjun you are an asshole."

He's an asshole who dreaded to be your lab partner when you met, he's an asshole who purposely made the both of you fail just for the fun of it, he's an asshole who took way too long to apologize for it, an asshole who confused you when he suddenly wanted to hang out, an asshole who shocked you when he confessed and said he's had feelings for you for a long time.

Renjun's an asshole. But you love him.

He's the asshole who took you bowling on your first date, the asshole who re-did your whole lab assignment himself just to get you a better grade, the asshole who you fell in love with when he let you draw over his birthmark, the asshole who's here to apologize for an argument you had a week ago.

Your hardened facial expression cracks, and tears start to well in your eyes as you let your emotions loose. "I missed you so fucking much."

Renjun feels all too relieved when you rush forward to catch him in a much needed hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He sighs and plants a soft kiss to your ear when you start crying lightly into his shoulder, a smile curling at his lips.

He's missed you too.

You pull away from the hug much longer than you expected, you guess the swaying and the patting that Renjun does keeps you locked in.

You notice the wet patch on Renjun's t-shirt almost instantly, grimacing at the sight. "Fuck, I'm sorry,"

"It's okay." Renjun pats at your cheek. His gaze suddenly shifts to a more playful, amusing spark, a smirk grazing his lips. "Hey, Hyuck let me use his motorbike to get here, you wanna go for a ride?"

You grin at the thought as well, excitedly glancing at the vehicle behind him. "Hell yeah,"

Apparently, you should not let Huang Renjun use your motorbike, or he ends up getting a scratch on the side.

All your boyfriend does is shrug and continues to go through some more cooking videos, as Donghyuck cries and cradles the motorbike to himself.

Huang Renjun is an asshole, but you like that about him, you guess.

#huang renjun imagines #huang renjun #huang renjun fluff #huang renjun scenarios #huang renjun x reader #neoturtles #knet bakery #ficscafe #kflixnet #k-radio! #neozonenet #nct-writers #huang renjun angst #huang renjun blurbs #huang renjun drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct angst #nct fluff #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream blurbs #nct dream drabbles

[neonun-au]

first days of spring | huang renjun

pairing: renjun x fem!reader genre: angst, romance, body horror warnings: major character death, mentions of blood/gore, body horror, implied death word count: 2.1k song: first days of spring - neverending white lights

from my disconnected series goodbye friends of the heavenly bodies 

Bury me in the meadow. 

In the tall grass, by the light of the evening sun. Bury me where the wildflowers grow–resplendent in their baby blues and soft pinks. Bury me where no one will ever find me save for those who mean the most. Bury me where only you will find me. 

I need no coffin–no protection. Just the open air of the sky and of the field and of you. Allow the wildflowers to take root in my skin, in my heart, in my flesh. To consume me until there is nothing left except soil and bone. 

A mournful refrain plays relentlessly in Renjun’s mind every time he enters the grove where you spent your childhood. And your adolescence. And then your youth. Where you spent days endlessly in companionable silence–reading together, watching the birds, softly sitting in the womb of friendship and love that blossomed like oh so many flowers. Endlessly and alway; withering and dying only to be replaced by yet more. More beautiful blooms springing up out of the earth–purple and violet and pink and blue–and taking the space of the dead in the way that only the natural world can. The cycle of birth and death and rebirth in the microcosm of a meadow where you first felt those same flowers burst forth in your chest. 

Love was a spring blossom in your heart. Echoed in kind in Renjun’s. The seeds, you were sure, had been planted the first day you met, in the tender soil of your burgeoning friendship–all wide smiles and wider eyes. Bonding over a love of silence and solitude amidst the usual chaos that is children. 

Seeds that grew in time to sprouts–creeping out of the earth like soft tendrils reaching for the open blue of the sky above. His eyes meeting yours as you sit together in the soft grasses of the meadow, his hands melting into your skin until separation is a mere fallacy and the only thing known is together, together, together. 

Meetings more and more frequent. Time stolen away from your families, your studies, your hopes and dreams for a future beyond each other. Together, together, together.  Renjun was your future now; and you were his. A fact as solid and as real as the ground you trod on–the ground you lay on, together. Body against body, soul against soul. The ground bore witness to your love as it now bore witness to the tears shed over the loss of it. 

It was never supposed to end like this. In blood and in screams. You were supposed to go gently into the night together–to that endless meadow of the afterlife, where you could remain. In love. He stayed as your only future, but his had been ripped out from underneath him the second the news broke. It split the ground open like a tectonic plate–moving the earth to make room for the cloying pit of emptiness that opened up inside of him in place of you. 

Nothing grew there anymore. No seeds were planted, no sprouts were sprung, spring would never return. All was winter–cold and grey and alone. His future was gone and now there was only apart, apart, apart. 

He sat in silence still–but the silence was different in your absence. It lacked the warmth and companionship that had occupied the space between you. It lacked your smile, the slight upturn of the corners of your lips as he stole a kiss from you under the midday sun during one of your outings. It lacked the gentle humming that you sometimes unknowingly took to. A humming that at first came as a disruption to the peace that existed around you but that he grew to accept as simply another facet of this life. In it buzzed the vibrations of spring, summer, autumn. The sun and the rain and the air. It was the soft humming of bees as they visited the meadow–stealing away bits of yellow pollen for their hives, flitting around your bodies as you lay together and watched the lazy clouds float overhead. 

It was the humming that he grew to miss the most in those first few months. 

In its place, the soft silence where you once existed was replaced now with the unwelcome droning of people from outside. Opinions and comments that felt to him less like a natural extension of the earth’s inner symphony and more like the turmoil of a railyard. All clanging and clattering in the open air. His skin would prickle at the sound of your name, always spoken in soft, reverent tones like you were haunting the room around them–like you were listening. Like you weren’t gone. 

‘Face completely destroyed, a shame she was so beautiful–’  ‘Blood all over the carpet, can’t believe no one heard anything–’ ‘Closed casket, and then cremation I heard–’ ‘Of course, there was no possible way they could do an open one with such a grotesque sight–’

The clamour pounded through his head like a freight train. Cutting through the numbness and the pitiful glances cast in his direction–an icicle in the dark cold night, through the chest straight into the withering heart inside. A pain so acute he could hardly breathe. 

The sky was no longer blue, he noticed as he walked into the meadow for the first time alone. All shades of periwinkle and cornflower faded into monochrome, lit by a pale, white sun. How melancholy, he thought. How cliché. How he wanted to smile and laugh and tell you that it turns out grief was both exactly like you expected it to be and yet still nothing like it at all. It held all of the sorrow with none of the catharsis that you so often performed in your readings. None of the wailing and the crying–all potential purification of emotions completely subducted by that overwhelming numbness. 

He couldn’t bury you in the meadow. Your body was ash and dust on the mantle of your parents. All beauty vanished in the flame. Wildfire held captive in a small, silver grave with your name scratched in by someone who had never touched your warmth. 

As he sat with himself in the meadow, it’s this thought that pained him the most. That no part of you could exist in this space you occupied so much time together. That you would remain enclosed in gilded metal for all time, until such a day comes that you pass into hands that have no memory of you. That can’t be concerned with the weight of you. You remain enclosed until they choose to discard you in whatever way they see fit–ash to ash, dust to the wind. Carried on into nothingness. 

Renjun wasn’t sure if he believed in the eternity of the soul, but he believed in memory. He believed in the memory of a person carried through into the endless forever that lay ahead of him–an endless forever with nothing but his memories of you. 

So this is what he brings to the meadow now. Not the weight of your body, but the weight of your soul. Your memory. Photographs, books, the ghosts of your hands on his bare skin, the kiss of your lips on his cheek. He buries them along with his hopes and dreams in the fertile soil of the field where he aches to lay with you one more time. Buries them one at a time, day after day, for weeks on end. An endeavour with no end goal but to maybe bring some life to his memories of you. To help you grow again–corporeal and colourful. Blotting out the endless grey of the grasses and flowers that stretch out before him like a tomb. 

The first time he sees it, he thinks he’s losing his mind. 

A small flower like a hand stretching towards the sky–brilliant and bright and so soft in shades of pink and lilac. Your favourite–a flower he never learned the name of but now could only call you. He reaches out tentative fingers towards it, afraid that it might crumple and fold under the weight of his fingers. Gentle and exploratory like the first time he properly laid his hands on you–hoping, hoping, hoping. 

The bloom remains intact–it reaches back towards him like there is thought behind the motion, and not just some wayward wind. Reaching for him. He all but bursts at the feeling that erupts in his chest at the sight. He leaves the meadow on a cloud and returns later carried in on a baby blue breeze–brimming with the first taste of warm weather he has felt in months since you left this world. 

The flower is still there, stretching its petals up towards the sky–reaching for sunlight and air. Free of the confinement of the earth and dirt. He smiles at it, soft and familiar, like he would if he saw you walking through the fields towards him. Like he would if you had never left in the first place. This was simply another spring morning in May at the cusp of everything bursting to life around you. He smiles at it and then he sees another. And then another. They spring up around him in a shape both eerie and intimate. 

The curve of a spine, the dip where he would rest his hand on an afternoon, painted in soft blues. His eyes graze down the floral form; legs resplendent in vibrant reds, arms outstretched in violet and sapphire. The sun fades from white to yellow and he almost sees a spray of white blooms stretching into a smile as the rays shine down golden and dazzling. 

He sits down in the grass next to the form–awe spreads spade-like over his face–heart thumping hard in his throat–and he feels you. As he brushes his hand along the myriad of petals, he feels you. Your cadence, your laughter, your humming, your memory come to life. Sprung from seeds of you planted by his loving, hopeful hands.

The cacophony was wrong. There was nothing grotesque in this. There was no blood. There was only beauty, and there would only be beauty. Endlessly. As long as he was here to bear witness to it. 

He returns, day in and day out, with arm loads of physical memories of you. Manifestations of your life and your love. A snatch of your hair from a hairbrush your mother could never part with, a letter carrying your penmanship, a thousand more polaroids. He feeds the earth with you. Waters the seeds with his manifestations of you. His love spread over the land like a great wave of light–bathing the meadow in its soft warmth and glow. 

A river to a stream to a trickle to a drop. Slowly he runs out of things to bury–things to take with him from house to home. A chance visit at your family’s house, left alone in the living room, a small pouch tucked into his coat pocket. Renjun was always quiet; quick and quiet, like a fox, his mother would say. Slinking around and accomplishing his goals sight unseen. You were left sitting there, encased in metal and engravings. No, not you. Remains of what you once were, but not you. He knows exactly where you are–inside of him, inside of the field you both loved. He manages a quick hand–in and out. Bits of you stowed close to his heart. 

The following day he spreads the remains of your flesh body out with a wish over the you that now grows where he always knew you would. Your ashes rain down like glitter to the earth–coating the field and flowers in bone dust. They settle into the petals and you spring to life. Blooms moving and undulating as he watches–some unseen and unfelt breeze breathing life into your corporeal form. He lays down next to you and runs another tentative hand along your side. Feeling as the blossoms reach back towards him. Buoyed by love and a hope unhoped as you engulf him. Together, together, together. 

The silence that had been cloying at him for months gives way to song and symphony. The sounds of the earth alive once again and carried into his ears. He smiles, he laughs. Happiness, warmth. Everything he thought he would never feel again. 

The white flowers are back again–smiling back at him. Returning the warmth. Renjun moves closer, letting the blooms wrap themselves around his body–melting into your form as flesh would to flesh. He feels the hunger and knows that he needs more fuel for the flora, but his physical memories of you have all run dry. He has buried everything he possibly could–save for one. 

For a moment you part, the blooms recede–sinking back in anticipation–as he stands to strip himself of his clothes. All barrier gone–only the sky, the air and you. Together, together, together. Grass tickles at his bare skin as he nestles back against you, feeling the tendrils spring up around him in an earthly embrace. Golden sunlight shines down and he sinks into you–no longer apart, only together. Forever, forever, forever. 

Bury me in the meadow–the body, a garden. 

© 2022, neonun-au, all rights reserved

if you enjoyed this, or any of my other writing, please consider reblogging and letting me know your thoughts! it truly means the world to me

#nct-writers #kwritersworldnet #renjun angst #nct dream angst #huang renjun angst #renjun horror #nct dream horror #renjun romance #nct dream romance #renjun scenarios #renjun x reader #character death

[cherrybyunss]

Stay Here With Me

RenHyuck Fluff, Light Angst + Smut AU

And Donghyuck cried harder. “How do I face everything that happened to me, everything that I let happen… without it making me hate myself every single day?”

“Hey…” Renjun spoke in a soothing whisper. “You’re gonna be okay.”

===================

Ship: Huang Renjun x Haechan | Lee Donghyuck (NCT)

Word Count: 23.2k

Tags: Is there somewhere sequel, Healing, Past Relationship Trauma, Aged Up NCT Dream, Light Angst, Fluff, Smut, Happy Ending, Recreational Drug Use, Jungwoo cameo, Yangyang cameo, Past Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Past Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno

Link: ao3

A/N: This is a sequel but can be read as a standalone fiction. It’s just lots and lots of healing, and Donghyuck getting what he deserves, finally, after the wreckage that was Is There Somewhere.

#angst #fluff #smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #renjun angst #renjun fluff #renjun smut #huang renjun angst #huang renjun fluff #huang renjun smut #nct renjun angst #nct renjun fluff #nct renjun smut #donghyuck angst #donghyuck smut #donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck angst #lee donghyuck fluff #nct donghyuck smut #nct donghyuck angst #nct donghyuck fluff #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan fluff

[minjunz]

mr. sandman | hrj (part I)

Pairing: gn!reader x renjun

Themes + Warnings: insomnia, profanity, very very brief mention of drugs, uni au, sexual innuendos, likely to be more in future

Genre: angst/fluff

Summary: Several nights of torturous insomnia drives you to great lengths for a moment's peace. Unbeknownst to you, the solution is very simple and very close. (is that cringe I can't tell)

A/N: Severe lack of renjun content on this website. i started writing this in may and intended for it to be a oneshot but I stalled for months because i’m never inspired and always busy so I decided to make it into somewhat of a series? I can't promise more parts will be out any time soon as I'm still on hiatus but I do have hope!

Word Count: 2.8k

-

Six hundred sheep.

Six hundred sheep had hopped over that tiny little fence in your head, and yet here you were staring into a blank ceiling for the nth night in a row.

You had tried everything the internet recommended; meditation, yoga, exercise, essential oils that smelled nothing like the labels - but none of them had helped, Obviously.

You weren’t sure when this constant wake had started, but it was long enough ago that you knew the only sleep you would be getting tonight was in your eyes. Again.

You sprung yourself upright, paused for a second, then threw yourself back down as hard as you could into bed in a desperate attempt to knock yourself out on your pillow (which absorbed almost all the impact) and clamped your eyes shut.

A few achingly long minutes passed before you accepted that it, like everything else, had not worked and you were unfortunately still awake and alert. To be fair, you knew that never succeeded, but it was worth a shot at least.

You internally cursed your body for damning you to an eternity of sleepless nights before groaning and grabbing your phone from the bedside table next to you. You squinted at the glowing screen, reading 4:05 AM. You had to be up at 8:30, so a four and a half hour head-start sounded about right.

Yeah, probably not.

Deciding to try and have someone talk you to sleep instead, you opened the messenger app and started typing. You knew damn well your roommate was still up in his room playing games, so you selected him as your probably-most-willing candidate to either knock you out or bore you into a coma. If he didn’t answer you’d just have to put a hole through his monitor. It would be what he deserved.

you: are u up

About thirty silent seconds passed before the three little dots appeared next to his name to indicate he was replying.

lil pudu: ya why

you: i cant sleep

lil pudu: again??

you: yes. now come knock me out

lil pudu: cant. in the middle of an overwatch stream.

you: pls

lil pudu: idk ask the sandman or smth ok luv u bye x

you: ur useless.

You made a mental note to pour water on his keyboard when you got up.

As much as you despised the sandman joke after reading it for the millionth time, you did wish that he could just snap his fingers and make you fall asleep. Entertaining the idea to soothe your nearing insanity, you whispered into the darkness of your room and shut your eyes once again,

“Mr sandman, bring me a dream.”

-

Warmth enveloped you.

You heard gentle waves lapping back and forth beside your feet, and the quiet cry of a seagull or two echoing overhead. Your hair lifted slightly in a soft, passing breeze before lowering perfectly back into place. The air was salty as you inhaled, but it was welcoming.

A mild heat rested on your closed eyelids, inviting you to open them.

You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the warm light, gingerly opening one at a time. This was not your bedroom.

Now fully open, you were able to take in the beauty of this unfamiliar place. The sky was painted in gorgeous pink and orange hues, complemented by the drifting candy-floss clouds. The symphony of colours reflected in the vast ocean was illuminated by the glowing sun in the horizon. Your gaze shifted downwards towards the sand you were standing on. It was pink too. You noticed intricate looking white shells lined in two rows up and down the beach in what appeared to be a pathway - as if someone had placed them there.

“Is this a dream?” You asked yourself, reaching down and taking a handful of the balmy sand, letting it fall through your fingers. It felt real. “No way did that Sandman bullshit actually work.”

Your gaze shifted back towards the shells. They felt as though they were beckoning you to follow them. You leaned down and picked one up, examining its delicate design in the fading sunlight. It looked too perfect to be real. Each swirl and divot looked intentionally symmetrical and much too smooth to be the workings of mother nature. Why was there so many? And why were they setting a path for you? No matter which way you looked at it, it seemed peculiar.

You’d have no problem obeying their silent call if this were a dream - you could always wake up in the case of danger. But you didn’t know. It had been so long since your last actual dream that the lines between them and reality were incredibly blurred.

You pinched the skin on your arm, hard enough to leave a reddening mark. If it didn’t hurt, you’d follow the path. If it did hurt, you’d leave the beach and try to find the nearest phone because this was definitely not your room and you did not remember driving here.

It didn’t hurt.

You stood up, dusted off your jeans - you also didn’t remember going to bed in jeans - and set off down the pathway towards the great unknown.

It was probably just more sand.

-

You didn’t know how long you had been walking, but it was long enough that the sun should have set. You looked at it, still illuminating the serene water in the exact same position as it had been when you first opened your eyes. The seagulls had stopped now, the sound of your footsteps in the sand the only accompaniment to the muted waves. Being a university student without a gym membership, this amount of walking should have tired you out. It should have made you a sweaty, panting mess. But you were in perfect condition. In fact, you felt better. Your legs didn’t burn whatsoever despite the non-stop cardio. You wished real life exercise was this easy.

Patting your armpits to find out if you really weren’t sweating, your eyes caught a figure in the distance.

It was undoubtedly human, and they were standing still with their back towards you, but you couldn’t make out much else from where you were now.

It felt like a few hours of walking with no sign of intelligent life in sight, so it was refreshing to finally interact with a human being - real or not.

You broke into a brisk jog to catch up to where the figure was stood. Assuming they wouldn’t be startled by a stranger suddenly running at them in a secluded area, you called out with your hands cupped around your mouth in a makeshift megaphone,

“Hey! What are you-“

Your gaze met the ceiling once again.

You looked around. No sand. No sun. No sea.

Just the blank dimness of your room.

Your phone was still in your hand. You raised it towards your face and stared into the big white numbers in the centre. 8:29 AM. You blinked as the screen faded and you saw nothing but your own reflection of disbelief. Had you actually slept for more than 5 minutes? Did the Sandman really grant you a dream just because you asked? Did Haechan secretly just force you into a coma? A million questions raced through your mind before the familiar blare of your alarm rang through your ears, prompting you to get up. You’d been woken exactly a minute before your alarm.

What the hell, Sandman.

-

“I’m telling you it actually worked!” You pointed your plastic fork accusingly at Mark, who was raising his hands in pretend defense, “As soon as I said the Sandman thing I fell asleep!”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” He started, gently lowering the weapon in your grasp, “I’m just saying there’s no way the Sandman brought you a dream. He’s a mythical being.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, raising the fork again, “I’ll stab you.”

“Why are you threatening Mark again?” Haechan asked as he approached, taking a seat beside you and opening his bag to look for his probably-forgotten lunch.

“Y/N thinks the Sandman is real.” Mark rolled his eyes. You wished you could roll them into a busy road at the moment with the amount of sass he was giving you.

Haechan looked up, hand stilling in his bag, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes back at Mark in mockery, “I never said I thought he was real-“

“You actually took my shitty advice?” Haechan nudged you, winking theatrically and pursing his lips, “awh, you do love me.” He blew a kiss and shut his eyes - only to immediately reopen them when you flicked his mouth.

“I did it as a joke.” You argued, wiping your fingers on the sleeve of his jacket. “But I actually had a dream last night.”

“A wet dream?”

You elbowed him in the ribs, “No, you fucking weirdo.”

He clutched his side in a dramatic show of betrayal and wiped an invisible tear from the corner of his eye, “What happened then?”

You recounted to the pair as much as you could remember from last night - this morning? - about the shell path leading to a mysterious figure, and how you had pants on for some reason, and how you didn’t sweat despite a shocking amount of cardio, and how the sun didn’t move even though it felt like hours passed. You looked at them expectantly, finishing your semi detailed retelling in an exasperated sigh.

They looked at each other with matching expressions of confusion, then back at you. Silence remained as you awaited a response. Mark was the first to speak.

“Are you on drugs?” He feigned concern, eyebrows creased mockingly, as Haechan snickered beside you.

“Shut up,” You poked your fork into his hand, leaving tiny dotted indents, “your dreams are so much worse than that.”

“Oh yeah,” Haechan’s face lit up at his newfound victim, swiftly moving on from your ridicule, “remember when you dreamt about Jaemin making you-“

Mark lunged over the table to clasp a hand over Haechan’s mouth, his face flushing a deep red colour that rivalled the watermelon cubes on his plate. “Don’t say another word.” he threatened, cheeks still glowing.

Haechan made a muffled “blegh” sound, presumably licking Mark’s hand. He pulled it away and shook it limply, removing the excess Haechan saliva.

“What’s wrong with you.”

-

You knew you were right.

You were going to prove it, you just had to have another dream. That’d show you weren’t insane. Probably.

If it worked, Mark had agreed to let you cut his bangs - you were praying on being successful because you had a shiny new pair of zig-zag craft scissors that you were waiting for an opportunity to use.

You took one final glance at your phone, reading 11:27 PM, then let the screen turn to black. It fell to your side as you shut your eyes. You opened your mouth, repeating the faint plea from the previous night,

“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.”

Your sight adjusted once again to the light emanating from the sun hanging low in the pink dusted sky. You looked down. You were stood on a soft, uneven surface. Aged white shells lined a wide path on either side of you, speckled in sand. Sand.

It had worked.

You clenched your fist shut and pumped it in triumph, a smile forming on your lips. You cackled to yourself, knowing Mark would be donning a hat for the next few months.

As you gathered the rest of your somewhat familiar surroundings, your eyes landed on a figure. It was the same figure from last night; still facing away from you, still unaware of your presence.

You didn’t run this time. You walked briskly but leisurely, basking in the radiant warmth and admiring the calm waters. You were enjoying the glory of being right.

More details became visible as you followed the path further.

The figure was that of a young man, probably no older than you. He was sat cross-legged on a piece of white fabric splayed out in front of the sea. His hair, like the sand and sky, was a faded chalky pink, tickling his neck with a hint of his natural dark roots peaking out from atop his head. He almost blended in. He sported a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and his wrists were decorated in an assortment of beaded and leather bracelets.

He had one hand behind him, resting his weight on it. His other hand twirled a pencil back and forth between his fingers. A small black sketchbook lay in his lap, white pages partially obscured behind his body. You couldn’t see his face yet, but the sunlight reflecting against his exposed skin was enough to convince you he was utterly beautiful. The glow illuminated him, a weak halo hovering on the outline of his frame and highlighting his elegant features to anyone fortunate enough to bear witness to them. He almost reminded you of an angel.

He turned his head as you approached, wide eyes meeting your gaze. You saw yourself ever so slightly reflected in the lenses of the glasses resting loosely on his nose. You looked brighter, more vibrant to match the atmosphere, and your natural palette somehow complemented the surrounding scenery - and the boy - perfectly. It felt like where you belonged in that moment.

You continued to stare at each other in startled silence until his lips parted and he spoke, barely enough to even be audible,

“You’re here.”

He hastily rose to his feet, stumbling towards you and brushing sand grains off his legs. The sketchbook on his lap fell to the floor, revealing it’s contents. A half-drawn seashell lay face up, closely resembling the ones you had followed the past two nights. But this one was broken. The intricate detailing had been illustrated with cracks and shatters adorning the carvings. You felt like you recognised it.

You’d never met him, you were sure of it, but his art was so familiar to you. It must have been the dreamland taking inspiration from a real person. It wasn’t like he had a forgettable face by any means, distinctly soft features still gleaming in the sunlight.

He stuck out his hand, awaiting your greeting with an expectant smile. He seemed to recognise you, too. Was this your dream-buddy? Did your new dreams have lore...? Whatever he was, you still had no idea who he was.

You took his hand, relishing in the comforting tenderness, “So,” you shook it gently, opening your mouth to joke, “are you the Sandman or something?”

His lips were still curled into a mellow smile, slight falter undetected by you, but his eyes flashed a whisper of a melancholy memory as he looked into yours, the soft glaze reflecting muffled heartache. As quickly as it had appeared, the somber flicker faded back into a sheer wall of secrecy. You wanted to find out what those eyes were concealing - what stories lay behind such solemnity.

He exhaled, softer than the clouds circling above you, before opening his mouth to respond,

“You can call me that for now, I guess.”

He smiled again, eyes creasing ever so slightly at your jest. You smiled back. It was almost contagious. “Do you have a real name?”

He grimaced slightly, brows creasing,

“Renjun.”

He held a face of disgust at the mere mention of his own name, his dulcet expression replaced with muffled loathing, “You don’t have to call me that though.”

“Cool.” You didn’t have the means to question his repulse, nothing else made sense here and you frankly didn’t feel an urge to pry, instead moving on to the thought at the front of your mind, “Are you the one that does all that magic sleep stuff to me?” You asked, still shaking his hand.

He stopped for a moment, pouting his lips to indicate he was thinking.

“In a way?” He tilted his head, “it’s complicated.”

You stopped shaking, but your grasp on his hand remained, “Complicated how?”

Another moment of thought passed in peaceful silence before he gathered the words to elaborate,

“Well,” he started, gently letting go of your palm, “I can’t actually control any of it unless I put all my energy into it.”

You stared at him blankly, wordlessly commanding him to explain further,

“I can’t really wake you up at will, that’s all you and what your mind wants,” he gestured with his hands, assuming it would help to make more sense, “and I can only put you to sleep if you directly ask me to like you did tonight,”

You nodded your head in understanding, comprehending this as well as you could,

“but unless I put every last bit of my energy into waking you up when I want to, I can’t do it.” he shrugged.

“What happens if you use every last bit of your energy then?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

He shrugged again, lifting his hands with his shoulders, “No idea. I’ve never done it before.”

#nct #nct dream #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #renjun #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct dream x gn reader #nct x gn reader #renjun x gn reader #huang renjun #huang renjun fluff #huang renjun angst

[midmourn]

you storm out after a fight

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre angst warnings language and just general warning for angst note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 ( library )

#kflixnet #k films #k labels #nct dream #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct angst #kpop imagines #nct reactions #nct fluff #na jaemin #na jaemin imagines #huang renjun #huang renjun imagines #lee jeno #lee haechan #mark lee angst #mark lee imagines #mark lee #lee jeno imagines #haechan imagines #zhong chenle imagines #zhong chenle #park jisung imagines #park jisung #nct dream imagines #nct 127 #kpop fake texts #kpop angst

[ohmygs-blog]

purposely ignoring dreamies ii.

okay part two!! hope u guys like <3 (part one)

#nct dream #nct #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fake texts #nct imagines #nct texts #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct dream ff #nct angst #nct imagine #nct scenario #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #lee donghyuck #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct donghyuck #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung #nct fic #nct smut

[writemekpop]

Last Chance | Huang Renjun

Summary: When your boyfriend Renjun is feeling low and needy, he does something totally unexpected. 

Genre: Established relationship AU

Word Count: 1k

Renjun stormed into the apartment, shoving straight past you like you weren’t even there. There was a splash as he poured an old bottle of Malibu into a mug. 

“Too bad, baby. You deserved it,” you cooed, placing your hand on his shoulder. 

Renjun glared at you. “Why d’you always say that? Why don’t you ever ask how did the audition go?” 

You nod. “Sorry. How did the audition go?”

Renjun took a gulp of alcohol. “I didn’t get it.” 

You opened your arms, and Renjun collapsed into them. “What am I doing with my life? I haven’t got an acting job in three years. Maybe it’s time I… gave up.”

“Junnie,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses to his neck. “You know what you always say! It’s all about sticking it out. Paying your dues.” “I made that stuff up, Y/n!” Renjun moaned. “I- I’ve failed at life.” 

You pulled back, and wiped a tear from Renjun’s cheek. “You haven’t failed, baby. You’ve got me.”

Renjun cocked his head and looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I should make good decisions.” 

To your utter shock, he dropped down on one knee. Renjun took your hand in his. 

“Let’s get married, Y/n. You’re the only good decision I’ve ever made.”

You had dreamt about this moment from three months into meeting Renjun. You wanted it all – the baby girl, the tyre swing in the back garden, sparkly Father’s Day cards – but Renjun had never seemed to want the same thing. It had been four years now, and with each passing day, marriage seemed further and further away. 

But a little voice in your head was saying that something was not right. 

“I don’t want to be your ‘good decision’, Renjun,” you said quietly. “You make it sound like I’m a- a- plate of vegetables, or orthopaedic walking shoes.” 

Renjun frowned. You urged Renjun to stand up. “To me, Renjun, you’re my fantasy. My rollercoaster. My everything. I don’t want to be just a ‘good decision’.” Renjun shook his head. “That’s not what I meant! I love you, and I want to marry you.” You hugged yourself. “You’re just drunk, and feeling low… you feel like your life is spiralling.” Renjun shrugged. “That may be true. But – I know I’m right about you.” Renjun stroked your cheek. “I haven’t proposed because… I know that if I marry you, it won’t be enough. I’ll want it all – the house, the kids, the grandkids, for god’s sake.” He chuckled. “I’ll want you forever. And that terrifies me.” You could feel tears welling in your eyes. “Do you really mean it?” Renjun nodded, a smile spreading over his face. “You are so much more than ‘a good decision’ for me. You’re the only decision. Marry me, Y/n.” Those were the words you’d been yearning to hear all this time. 

“Yes,” you said. Then you pulled Renjun in for a long, beautiful kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tight like you would never let go. 

“You taste like shitty Malibu,” you said, through the tears. 

“So do you – for some reason,” Renjun replied, making you both chuckle. 

“So,” you said, sitting him down on the couch next to you. “I’m going to ‘ask’ you to choose between two wedding venues, but I want you to remember that there is only one right answer…” 

This might not have been the proposal you had dreamt about, but none of that mattered. Because it came from Renjun. And he was the only person you would ever want. 

—

MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

#nct dream #renjun smut #renjun #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct reactions #nct angst #huang renjun #nct 00 line #nct dream fluff #nct dream reactions #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream icons #nct x reader #kpop fluff #nct dream smut

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

renjun masterlist

keys: smut (✿), fluff (♡), angst (✰), community favorite / 1k+ notes (♛)

minors, dni with any fic that is marked with the smut key (✿).

黄仁俊 — Renjun

strangers to lovers collection (teasers)

canine, but mine (teasers) — new!

the artist's muse ✿♡✰

to taste the forbidden fruit ✿♡

what a time ✿♡✰

masturbation series ✿

smokin' hot ✿

love station ✿♡✰

我的老师 ✿

stolen ✿

tickle my fancy ✿

soulmatch™ — app-grade your love life! ✿♡✰

canine, but mine (pt 1: acquaintances) ✿♡✰ — new!

© 2022 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

#renjun #renjun smut #huang renjun smut #nct dream smut #kpop #smut #nct #kpop smut #nct fanfic #nct dream #fem reader #nct x reader #huang renjun x reader #renjun x reader #renjun angst #renjun fic #renjun fluff #nct dream renjun #huang renjun #nct renjun #huang renjun angst #huang renjun fluff #nct dream huang renjun #nct huang renjun #renjun masterlist

[toothfa-1-ry]

LAST SUMMER - Huang Renjun

The weather is so humid, it's so warm.

The electricity is horrible too.

The light linen shirt he wore was now drenched with sweat, from his collar to the sleeves covering his armpit.

Near him is fan that was working just a few minutes ago, working hard to keep Renjun cool from the heat just a few minutes ago before the electricity got cut off Iin broad daylight.

Now, Renjun in laying on the ground. His hair is slightly wet and his skin is all sticky.

He hates summer. He really hates summer.

Renjun is sure that the half eaten icecream left by Haechan is now just a puddle of thick brown liquid, staining his white mini cooler

Damn you Hyuk..I just got it recently too!

Renjun prays that the electricity would appear again, or the dark clouds forming in the sky would bring the cool rain along with a cool breeze.

He wonders if it's only his apartment that has the electricity cut but judging by the way his next door neighbours, Hendery and Lucas's shouts every 5 seconds he thinks perhaps it's the entire block

Atleast he isnt suffering alone.. atleast

The weather was so cruel to him, summer was always cruel to him. He hated the way his hair would get stuck to his forehead, or the way his body would be stuck to ground.

Maybe it would've been a but bearable if you were still here, yea... if

You used to love summer and the way your ice lolly would drip down your arms, and your tongue would lick the drip off

You liked using small tacky paper hand made fans which hardly worked, saying that it was better than those large fans or aircons other people had. Yet your paper fan would always break apart

You loved summer, you were summer

With a giant straw hat which could easily hide your face. And a huge bottle of sunscreen that you bought in the store just down the street.

Maybe you had a freckle or two, maybe you had none. But there was a bright spark in you eyes that Renjun always failed to capture.

A bright spark that always made him feel just a little bit warm, a little sticky all inside but he didn't hate it like how he hated summer, oh no, he absolutely adored it.

You'd buy a huge watermelon from an elderly man who you claimed looked alot like your great grandfather, the one you never met. And then you'd invite Renjun's friends, ringing up Mark first, inviting them for some fresh watermelon

You and Renjun would looks up recipes online on how to make homemade icream. You always claimed that homemade things were better, after all they were made with your love

Sometimes you and Renjun would take out a small kiddie pool into your perhaps even smaller bathroom and squeeze yourselves in. Wearing nothing but a flimsy shirt with a thin strap and your undergarments

You'd both splash eachother with coldwater, screaming as it hits your body as you were taken back to your childhood and how it was filled with no worries and only laughs.

There was nothing sensual about it, not that it never was sensual between you and Renjun but summer,

Summer with you was innocence.

With a little laughter, and a little bit of homemade ice cream.

It was warm and sticky and wet. But Renjun didn't mind that kind of summer, because it was summer with you.

Renjun wonders if it's as warm as it is for you right now,

Your probably wearing an oversized white t shirt right now, trying to make a paper fan out of newspaper.

For a second he sees you and he smiles. Only for a second though, just before the electricity comes back and the fan starts whirring sending a cool light wind to Renjun's face.

Renjun could hear Lucas and Hendery's screams of joy and a dog barking. Bella? I guess that was its name.. probably their friends dog.

He wonders what his friends are up to right now and Renjun wonders if Mark would be down for some watermelon he bought from an old man just a few blocks down

Renjun hated summer

But he didn't mind the summer he spend with you.

#nct dream #nct #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct dream fic #nct dream x reader #nct dream x y/n #huang renjun #huang renjun angst #huang renjun fluff #huang renjun x reader #nct renjun #nct dream fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream 00 line #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun #renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic

[ryozaki21]

diary of the heartbreakers;

00z series

╰┈➤ Diary of the Heartbreakers; 00z series

➸ ♡ They used to be the ones breaking hearts, but when karma comes around, suddenly the don't know what to do. Navigate through college life with your favorite idiots, and read through the Diary of the Heartbreakers.

GENRES: College AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Humour

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, drug abuse, Infidelity, Toxic relationships/characters, Heavy topics discussed, player!00z, Language and Violence.

AUTHOR's NOTE: I thought long and hard about making this a series, because of my commitment issues and I don't trust myself to commit to a writing project like this TT, But since I have story ideas for these characters, (00z) I just linked all of them together. SLOW UPDATE. Also my first time doing a series, how about that?!? I hope you guys like it!

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

╰┈➤ After You

➸ ♡ Na Jaemin had it easy. Loved by everybody, the man of everyone's dream. He's a perfect mix of a charmer and a player. Girls begged to be his, and he loved every part of it. Life used to be so fucking perfect for him. Then comes you. You're like an old book, ink fading, cover tearing, but he swears you're worth the read. Before you, life was easy. After you? He wasn't so sure.

"Break my heart, and you'll find yourself inside."

GENRE: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mature themes

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, Language, Mental Illness, Drugs/Alcohol usage, toxic!reader, fuckboy!Jaemin (but still a sweetheart)

AUTHOR's NOTE: Oh, this one's heavy. Much serious than the other stories and quite one that's holds some sensitive topics. If I get some things wrong about certain topics, please do tell me and I'll quickly correct it. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 15k

STATUS: published

╰┈➤ Yours, Inevitably

➸ ♡ To say that Lee Jeno is pretty would be an understatement. The man's gorgeous. One thing he uses to his advantage, going through college getting girls he spots his eyes on. But there's one he just couldn't get. His brother's bestfriend. You can continue and avoid your feelings for each other, but eventually, it'll happen. You were someone that stayed, a constant in his life. You might not know it, but for the years you've known Lee Jeno, he slowly became yours, inevitably.

"I should've known that it was you, because no one else made sense."

GENRE: Fluff, Angst, Humour, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, Language, Alcohol usage, Mentions of Drugs, fuckboy!Jeno, brothersbsf!reader

AUTHOR's NOTE: This story was collecting dust on my drafts for so longg! Originally I was gonna post it as a stand-alone but figured it made sense to be a part of this series. One of my faves. Also lots of other members of nct mentioned. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 8k-10k

STATUS: published

╰┈➤ The Fine Art of Rejection

➸ ♡ Huang Renjun, the sweetie of the year, is one hard star to catch. Not as easy as his other friends, he's quite difficult to have. Although he has a fair share of affairs with girls, it is considered to be a rare occurence. But you? Oh boy were you something. You were quite head over heels over him. His friends could never understand, but you were persistent to get the boy. No matter how much he refuses your advances, Its like you found art in rejection. But to what degree can you hold it out?

"I can be everything I want, but fuck, I only wanted to be yours. Even though you couldn't be mine."

GENRE: Unrequited love, Humour, Fluff, Angst, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Language, Explicit sexual content, Alcohol Usage, cheerleader!reader, Renjun is sometimes rude lol

AUTHOR's NOTE: Actually, I wanted to write something pure fluffy for Renjun, but I figured I need to put a sprinkle (more than that actually lmao) of angst. Also my favorite plot to write. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 8k-10k

STATUS: published

╰┈➤ Illicit Affairs

➸ ♡ Infamous for being every girl's guilty pleasure, Lee Haechan strutted through his life shamelessly. But recently, the new girl caught his eye. Im Hayeon, who he believes that would finally tame his wreckless heart. He was confident he could get the girl. And when he did, he never expected her to have baggages. For example, you, Im Hayeon's best friend. Who suddenly, sparked an idea on his pretty little head. You're trouble-- and you're making Haechan commit Illicit Affairs.

"You're making me do bad things, very, bad things. But then again, I'm no stranger in being the bad guy."

GENRE: Fluff, Angst, Humour, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Language, Explicit sexual content, Alcohol Usage, Infidelity, Haechan and reader is kind of an asshole

AUTHOR's NOTE: okay, for one, i don't condone cheating. its just for the story! also i won't tackle on it too much-- literally just for the plot. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 8k-10k

STATUS: published

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

© ryozaki21 2023

#nct #nct dream #lee jeno #nct imagines #nct x reader #kpop imagines #nct aus #kpop au #kpop oneshots #lee haechan #huang renjun #na jaemin #neo culture technology #nct fanfic #kpop fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct scenarios #haechan x you #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #renjun x reader #nct 127

[lattaeyongs]

the trojan horse (hrj)

original gif

↳ pairing: huang renjun x reader

↳ word count: 19.6k

↳ genre: royalty!au, historical (late 1700s)!au, arranged marriage!au, heavy angst, fluff, smut

↳ summary: in which the boy you fall in love with isn’t who you think he is.

↳ warnings: character death, political unrest, violence, nudity, explicit sexual content (oral, penetration, switch!renjun, switch!reader, cum play), may contain historical inaccuracies

↳ a/n: influenced heavily by the events of the french revolution.

1791

Ominously, the large, mahogany doors of the Royal Court open. Two guards tightly grip the arms of a shadow, and as the three slowly approach the center of the room, you realize it is a middle-aged, disheveled, pitiful-looking man who wouldn’t put up much of a fight against the guards anyway.

Across a large table sit the Members of the Royal Court. They include some barons and earls, along with religious leaders. Your father, the King, sits at the center, looking especially royal in his brand-new purple robes, and you sit by his side, your fingers intertwined together neatly.

“Order!” Your father announces loudly to the Court. The barons and lords’ chatters die, and the room is silent. 

“Name?” Asks the King. 

“Kim Donghyun,” the man says. He is practically just skin and bones, and it makes you think about how you’ve never gone a day without having three exquisite meals. 

You guiltily avoid his gaze; he doesn’t notice. His attention is toward the King. Due to the days of sitting in a dungeon in utter darkness waiting for his trial and sentencing, he has to blink a few times to get adjusted to the bright light in the Court. 

“What is your crime?” 

Kim Donghyun takes a deep breath. You observe him intently, and you notice how he is practically quaking in fear at being in front of the King. The only time a peasant like him would ever be graced with the presence of the King is when it is nothing good at all. 

Being tried in front of the Royal Court constitutes as ‘nothing good at all.’  

“Theft,” he says in a small voice. At his fear, the King looks at him in disdain. Kim Donghyun knows that his time is limited, and he won’t die without a shred of dignity.

He raises his voice. “I did it for my family.” 

“Only describe the crime,” the King interjects.

“I work in the farming district. In an apple orchard. Instead of turning over all the apples I collected to the cart that takes it to distribution centers, I kept some hidden in my home.” 

The King turns to look at the rest of the Court and discusses quietly, avoiding your gaze. You’re able to make out some words, such as ‘sin’ and ‘infestation of the poor,’ but you don’t interact. Of course, he ignores you, as if you don’t have an opinion. As the only woman on the Court, you were only there after you convinced (more like begged) your father. Deciding a man’s fate wasn’t apt work for a royal woman, whose responsibilities lie in producing a legitimate, male heir for the Kingdom after your father chooses your husband, who is the next in line to the throne – not you, who is your father’s own flesh blood and has a right to the throne. You told your father that Queen Elizabeth I more almost three hundred years ago took the throne of England and ruled through a golden age, dismantling your father’s claim that women weren’t fit to rule, but your father argued that was why England didn’t have a direct, legitimate heir, and why England fell into turmoil after Queen Elizabeth’s death in 1603.

“There is only one suitable punishment for thieves,” The King says in a sure, kingly voice. You gulp harshly. You knew the next words that would come out of his mouth, after sitting in the Royal Court’s proceedings, which all practically ended the same way, no matter how big or small the offense is. He doles out this punishment like it’s nothing. There used to be other punishments for thieves such as cutting off their hands, but the only places those punishments are described in history books.  

“Death by The Dragon’s Fang!” Your father declares. Through the ornately decorated window, you see the chopping block where executions take place. The Dragon’s Fang, the family sword that has been an important symbol of Justice in your Kingdom, cuts cleanly across the neck of whoever has done the Kingdom of Ambrosia wrong. Sharpened every day by the Executioner, it never gives anything but a decisive end to someone’s life. 

“Please,” the man pleads. The chains around his wrists rattle as he folds his hands together tightly in desperation. The two guards accompanying him hold him even tighter, creating small impressions on his skinny body, but your father gestures for them to let go of Kim Donghyun. He falls to his knees, tears forming at the rims of his eyes. 

You’ve sat through hundreds of proceedings, and every single one of them rips a new hole in your heart.

“I never intended to steal,” he explains. “My family, we’re starving. Starving!” He screams in anguish. The guards come closer to him but do not hold him like they once did; desperate this man is, but not desperate enough to run.

“It’s no excuse,” the King says firmly. 

“I had to do it. Come to the farming district yourself! We’re all suffering before dying of starvation and disease. Reeking dead bodies are everywhere and we have no medicine and no food! How are we supposed to live?”

At his anguished voice, you decide that you’re not going to let this be yet another proceeding that you will watch and do nothing about the result. After all, this is supposed to be your kingdom in the future, not your future husbands, even though it doesn’t seem like that.

“He’s right,” you say. Stunned gasps echo through the room. Not a single member of the Royal Court has second-guessed any of the King’s decisions. But you do not let that affect the firmness in your voice.

“How are the working class supposed to serve us if we cannot give them enough resources to live?” You spin it another way. You don’t truly mean what you say, only giving the situation in this light in order for your father to understand; he only understands when things affect him; the rest of the Court are the same way, almost medically unable to expand their cold, selfish hearts to show a little compassion. 

“If we show mercy to this one man,” your father says patiently, “then others will start doing the same thing. We need to make an example of the misdeeds of this man, to prevent further law-breaking.” Your father knows of your compassion for others, an un-queenly trait that he thinks you will outgrow when you get a little more experience with royal affairs, the only reason why he let you take part in the proceedings of the Royal Court. Being that you’re only a child, twenty years old, you have not the same maturity as a seasoned King. But to you, it’s not just a phase.

Whatever happened to the great leaders of yesteryear who knew when to show compassion and when to rule with an iron fist? Your father’s ruthless punishments are what earned him the title of ‘The Mad King’ by the commoners, according to the King’s spies (aptly called his ‘Ears’) everywhere. It is even rumored that the Resistance, an organization whose goal is to destroy the royal family, is real. After hearing about the American Revolution and the Revolution in France, common people hold out hope for a democracy, where everyone’s voices are heard. The writings of Thomas Paine and John Locke started circulating in the Kingdom of Ambrosia and have stirred up more political unrest than what could be imagined.

Your father afterward made it his mission to find every copy of Common Sense and Two Treatises of Government and burn them, as well as execute anyone with a physical copy of those books. He could not have that sort of insolence from his subjects. However, that did nothing; the words were still in peoples’ minds, spreading to others orally, and who knows how many illegitimate copies there are, the words printed on cloth or in their minds? This made people want to get bootlegged copies even more. If the commoners had enough food on the table and compassionate leaders, then their cries for revolution are quieter. If the Gods chose you to be a ruler, then that means that the Gods see leadership potential in your lineage, and you should follow that.

“I’m not saying to spare Kim Donghyun any punishment,” you explain cooly with your hands in your lap in a lady-like fashion, just as your governess taught you when you were little. “There are other means of punishment which will get the point across.”

“Other means of punishment?” Your father echoes in a tone that makes you feel small. “Stealing is a sin and sins are punishable by death.” 

“Can’t he get a whipping? I’m sure that he learned his lesson. He’s frightened to death and needs to feed his –”

“Quiet, girl!” The King declares. Instantly, you feel your father’s palm connect with your cheek, and a stinging sensation burns your skin. This immediately makes your tear ducts tingle with the need to let hot tears roll down your cheeks, but you will not let the Royal Court see you as a little girl being chastised by her father.

You are a young woman and one that is to be the future queen at that.

At the way you take a painful slap, Kim Donghyun meets your gaze with a resigned, yet thankful look at your efforts. He already knows that in a few short minutes, his blood will be pooling on the floor in the adjacent room.

“The Royal Court here rules that Kim Donghyun is sentenced to death by the Dragon’s Fang.” He bangs the gavel against the table loudly, glancing at you before locking gazes with Kim Donghyun. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t scream. He knew he took a massive risk with those apples. He only wished that he stole more because the look of satisfaction when his wife and children ate was intoxicating. 

The two guards grab Kim Donghyun’s elbows before escorting them out of the Royal Court and into the next room. The window gives a clear view of the large chopping block stained with dry, brown blood where Kim Donghyun is supposed to lean, his knees on the floor, his neck and the edge of the block lining up. Then, the Executioner takes the Dragon’s Fang and raises it above his head. He doesn’t close his eyes at the sight he is about to see, a ritual he has performed thousands of times, only asking the victim for any last words, as you can tell from seeing this proceeding many times. Kim Donghyun says something, but you are not sure what. Then, the Executioner swings the sword, and Kim Donghyun crumbles to the ground in two parts after a sickening crunch (that you’ve heard so many times, it echoes in your head).

You think you’re going to be sick.

-

Just like there were many court proceedings before the trial of Kim Donghyun, there are many afterward. The Resistance is growing larger, according to the King’s Ears, and is ready to plan something large. Normally, your father would not tolerate this insolence against the royal family. He would have liked to nip it in the bud and hang the bodies of all the rebels in front of the streets to make an example out of them, but the King is running into a huge problem: he is close to bankruptcy. He barely has enough resources to pay guards and mercenaries to protect the current palace, as well as cooks and maids and servants. He doesn’t have enough resources to pay for a large army and create a special task force to get rid of the rebels. After spending his money on clothes and shoes, brand new wings of the palace and concubines, he was spending money faster than he was receiving it. 

Obviously, you knew that this was a serious problem, and it was information that select people had access to; Royal advisors were trying their best to make sure that this information was kept under a tight lid and wouldn’t find its way to the Resistance. Royal advisors suggested that the King find a source of needed materials without raising taxes yet again, and that’s where you come to play. Your father arranged for you to meet a suitor to set up a much-needed marriage alliance.

Today, you would be meeting the Prince of Neo, Huang Renjun. Neo is a small kingdom a few days journey from you by the sea, and they are known for their ample craftsman class who commission some of the finest weapons. They are also a source of skilled fighters, and they will be more likely to ship off their people and provide resources to Ambrosia if they have a suitable marriage alliance.

As much as you hated being auctioned off like an antique vase, it was something that couldn’t be helped as a royal woman. You only hope that this Huang Renjun isn’t like the other suitors you have met, who are snooty and stuck up, ruthless as if they are miniature versions of your father. More importantly, you wish that they won’t cast you aside, using you as a pawn to get their hands on the better prize, the Kingdom of Ambrosia, the largest kingdom in the area.

There’s already tension in the air when you are escorted by your mother and lady’s maids into the drawing room where you first lay eyes on Huang Renjun.

His raven-colored hair is neatly gelled and combed, and his skin is pale in contrast. He stands up politely at your presence, and you get a good look at his clothing: rich, exactly what you expect for a royal from another kingdom. He wears red robes with delicate, intricate yellow designs, and you suspect the material is velvet. He has white frills at his neck, and milky white socks that compliment the black shoes at his feet, which have a gold flower at the center of the foot to match the gold designs on his robes. 

You’re thankful that the suitor you’re meeting is actually in the same age range as you, but it’s an additional bonus that he’s one of the most beautiful men you’ve met without even trying.

He is also observing you with the same tenacity as you do with him: You’re wearing a crown of pink flowers on your head, which matches the pink flowers on your sky-blue dress. Your skirt is large and trails at your behind, which shows your royal standing, and the sky-blue sleeves of your dress slowly become white lace as his eyes follow from your shoulders to your wrists. The sleeves of your dress are cone-like, and the edges are able to reach your knees. 

For a few seconds, you meet Renjun’s gaze. His eyes are a beautiful dark brown, and they offer you a friendly look, which puts your heart at slight ease. 

“Princess Y/N, this is Prince Renjun of Neo,” your mother introduces in a voice that makes it seem like she has known Prince Renjun for a long time (which she hasn’t).

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Highness,” Renjun says. His voice is absolutely magnificent, song-like, and dreamy. He steps forward and bends down on one knee, taking your right hand and kissing the back of it. 

His lips feel warm against your skin. 

There are a few other men by Renjun’s side. There are his personal guards, who came with him on the carriage ride from his castle to yours, and another man in fine clothing, someone you failed to notice due to your observant study of Huang Renjun. 

“And this is the King of Neo,” your mother continues, gesturing. He bows down and takes the time to bend down and kiss your mother’s hand (which has her bubbling with pleasant words) and your hand, which you give a curt greeting. His black robe shuffles as he steps back, and you study Renjun side-by-side with his father. 

“Pleased to meet you, Your Highnesses,” he says. 

A few maids come in bearing silver trays piled with bite-sized sandwiches, in the shape of a pyramid. You and your mother take one, while Renjun and his father take one each, all four of you being overly courteous to the help in an effort to keep appearances. 

“Your daughter looks like a lovely young lady, perfect for my Renjun,” the King of Neo comments, giving your mother a gracious smile. “So elegant and full of grace, she will make a fine queen and wife, Your Highness,” he addresses your mother. 

“Thank you for your kind words,” Your mother responds back, her eyes crinkling as a part of her practiced genuine smile. “May I escort you to the King? He has some matters that he would like to discuss with you.” 

“Of course, my good lady,” the King of Neo responds back courteously. Your mother leads the way out of the room, and a few maids look like they are going to follow her, to make sure that she is okay, but she only needs to give a flick of her wrist for them to disperse back into the drawing room. Now, you and Renjun are alone, except for the help, but they don’t count. You’re grateful that your mother has left you both alone because you absolutely hate being chaperoned during meets with suitors – it makes you more nervous having that extra company. That just shows how important this alliance is for the Kingdom that your mother understands your weakness and tries to put you on the best possible foot to make a good performance for Huang Renjun.

Performance. The word has the connotation relating it to a game, which is what this whole suitor business is. 

“Please have a seat,” you say to Renjun, gesturing at the plush pink-and-green sofa that he abandoned when you entered the room. There is a small ottoman opposite of the sofa, and there is a glass table in between with the pyramid of sandwiches that the maid brought a few minutes ago. You’re ready to bring up something about the weather and other practiced lines you have prepared for occasions like this when something catches your eye on the table, a leather-bound book. It is a copy of The Oresteia by Aeschylus. You remember reading it back when you were still taught by a governess. 

“Excellent choice,” you start off, gesturing to the volume on the table.

Renjun smiles at you, a pretty sight just as beautiful as his voice. 

“Thank you. You have a wonderful library, larger than the one I have at home,” he says in awe. The library room is in the next room, and it is dark and paneled with fine wood; it would not be a good choice to meet a suitor, for it is a major turn-off if a woman is too well-educated, enough that she would love books more than making an heir for the family.

Personally, the library room is your favorite room in the house.

“You don’t have Oresteia in your library?”

“No,” Renjun says sheepishly. “It’s been on my list of books to read for a long time, but I just haven’t had the chance to get a copy with all the suitors my father forc–” Renjun suddenly stops, realizing who he is talking to. His face turns into a bright beet red, thinking that he has messed up more than he ever thought he could.

Your face doesn’t shrivel with offense the way Renjun thought it would. He met a royal woman once who after he said he didn’t like blueberry scones, escorted him out of her castle. Instead, he is greeted by a smile. You experienced the same feeling.

“It’s okay,” you say lightly. “I wasn’t exactly that happy to meet you too.” You’re glad that your mother isn’t chaperoning, or anyone in your Court is either because hearing those words from your mouth would earn you a slap across your face. ‘A lady isn’t supposed to tell someone what she thinks,’ you can hear your mother’s and governess’ voices ringing in your ears (they practically had the same voice… all high-class women had a high pitch, sultry yet innocent voice). 

Renjun finds your words refreshing; this is the first time he’s met a royal who actually says what she thinks, and that sort of directness is what he craves in someone – he hates having to analyze every little word in a woman’s sentence in order to find out what she truly means.

“How far are you?” You ask. 

“Not very,” Renjun sighs. “I wished you came later so I would have had more time to read.” You titter a little, and Renjun is glad that he is able to see a real, genuine smile from you.

“But Clytemnestra has just killed King Agamemnon and Cassandra.” You nod, remembering yourself all those years ago holding this same volume. You’re trying to think of something to say that will contribute to the conversation when Renjun’s voice becomes lower. 

“Do you think he deserved it?” 

Initially, you’re not sure if you should answer the question. On one hand, you do want to answer the question because you can’t believe that you have a suitor who wants to intelligently discuss literature with you, a complete dream that you can’t believe is happening in real life, but there is another part of you that wants to follow your mother’s advice she gave you a long time ago when it came to meeting suitors: to not let him know too much about your opinions too early. 

“I apologize,” Renjun says hesitantly. He just broke all rules when it comes to meeting suitors. He is also not supposed to ask questions like these. Questions like “what are your favorite sweets?” or “what is your favorite city?” are more appropriate for someone you just met. 

“You don’t have to,” you say more confidently. “I think I understand Clytemnestra’s fury. Imagine finding out that your daughter was sacrificed so that your husband can help his brother get his wife back. There’s a line that has to be drawn between your family and someone else’s family, and Agamemnon failed to do so. Menelaus had other allies from various kingdoms that could help him, and Agamemnon could help in other ways than sacrificing his eldest daughter to Artemis. But Iphigenia only had Agamemnon. She was his daughter. He was supposed to protect her. He wasn’t supposed to auction her off to her death. So he must pay with his life,” you explain rationally.

Renjun is pretty sure that you’re not only talking about Oresteia anymore. And he’s right. Maybe you feel a little like Iphigenia, but the free will that you are sacrificing is for the good of your kingdom and not someone else’s. 

After your father overspent his money, even after charging ridiculously high tax rates and has no means to quell the Resistance by force. 

The way you passionately discussed literature was endearing to Renjun. He didn’t want to be stuck with a bimbo for the rest of his life, who was only interested in parties and pleasure. You have substance. 

The two of you continue to discuss other Ancient Greek literature since much of the literature includes myths that are implicitly referenced in other works that people in those days would have understood. The conversation is entertaining, and you freely give your opinion and Renjun does the same, and you appreciate the candidness more than anything in the world.

“I’m glad for one thing,” you say during the conversation.

Renjun raises an eyebrow. 

“That the Greek Gods don’t meddle in our lives.” 

-

Sometimes, just sitting around in the castle got boring – no, a lot of times, just sitting around in the castle got boring. You didn’t have much of a say in the Royal Court and you didn’t have much of a say in royal decision-making either, so you decided a few years ago that there would be something that you would have control over. 

Every weekend, you went into the cities of your Kingdom and practiced healing with the royal healer. A maximum of four people knew about this, and you wanted to keep it that way because if your family found out about this arrangement, they would serve your head on a platter. But so far, no one unnecessary knew about this. The royal healer, the cart driver, and your head maid were the only people who knew. It was your way to give back to the kingdom since so many were dying of diseases or were injured and lamed forever, and these tragedies could be avoided if there was a better spread of healthcare across the kingdom. 

Your head maid has clothes prepared for you, a maid’s outfit that you go into town wearing. With how the people feel about the royal family now that the Resistance is trying to spread their message, it was better if your deeds went unsaid; you didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention to yourself, or else the people in your care could get hurt.

So here you are, sitting in a prepared cart filled with medicine, along with the royal healer. The hot late-summer sun burns your shoulders as you sit, but you’re glad you’re only wearing a maid’s outfit and not the eight different skirts you have to wear all day as a royal; wearing all that clothing in this heat is the definition of hell on Earth. 

Maybe you’re being dramatic when you say that because when you see the capital city, Ciel, it certainly looks like hell on Earth. A little part of you is glad that you’re safely tucked away in your castle in the countryside because you’re not sure you could ever bear calling what is now Ciel, home. Sick people decorate the well-trodden streets, orphaned children scour waste for food, wails of anguish fill the air as people cry over the dead, and the stench – oh, the stench! How pungent and repelling it is, you almost want to gag. Thankfully, you have a flower from the royal gardens tied to your wrist, and you harshly press the flower against your nose, breathing in the fresh scent.

But the saddest thing on the street is the people who are wholly unaffected by all the events happening. They are residents no doubt, with tattered, stained breeches that have probably never seen a wash, but the resigned look on their faces is what breaks your heart into a thousand more pieces. They accept that this is how life is going to be. These people are usually able to hide among the crowds of people, but to you they stick out like a sore thumb.

Speaking of people, there seems to be less than there was last week. Everything seems a tad quieter, and people don’t seem to be sporting angry, belligerent looks on their faces against the royals, just the resigned, sick, and anguished seem left.

But this doesn’t stop you from setting up shop. With the royal healer Doyoung, you both find an abandoned building – a building that you have kept under a different name using some royal funds you’re able to get out of your father’s hands – and set up medicines, table cloths, bandages, and other tools needed to properly heal the masses. After seeing your appearances, people start coming in. It was an unspoken thing with the people of Ciel, the most poverty-stricken people in your kingdom, living in shanty towns because the capital is where all the work is. It spread around to others that a healer and his assistant would come every week to try to relieve them. They didn’t know anything about the healer or the assistant, or why they only came once a week (many people have requested that you and Doyoung make your presence known more often), but you would simply sigh and shrug your shoulders, that you could only ever manage once a week. In your heart, you knew that your family wouldn’t notice you gone for at least six hours in a day, but if you tried six hours in two days, that’s asking for problems. Although, you never say that. 

However, you and Doyoung have trained others in town who want to heal some basic hygiene and herbs that can be found around Ciel, such as poppy seeds for sleeping and ginseng for preventing inflammation of wounds (but sometimes a cure-all for desperate people). However, due to how populated Ciel is, it’s hard to find even find these plants since medicinal plants need care to grow. They aren’t like dandelions that can grow among the trash and ruin. Which is why you and Doyoung bring a decent stock of other plants from the royal medical gardens and teach others how to store them. But even still, basic training and plant stocks are not enough to keep people alive, and many times, you need a trained medical opinion or experience.

As some patients take rest on the blankets that are scattered in this makeshift hospital, other helpers (practically employees) come in as well. 

The first to come is the brother-sister pair, Soobong and Sooyoung. They were always the most punctual, and they live for healing and helping others – with enough medical training, they were good enough to work at the castle.

“Good, you’re here,” Doyoung says brusquely. “More and more people are coming. Sooyoung, ask patients what their ailments are, and Soobong and Y/N, help me unload the stock.” Doyoung commands confidently. 

Kim Doyoung had been at this for a long time, as you notice through his weathered, experienced face. He’s been doing this before you knew about it, and when you caught him, you told him that you would join him or you would tell the King, and he gladly took the former option. Doyoung himself grew up on the streets of Ciel, orphaned, but he met a man who helped him learn the art of healing, and he became a revered healer in Ciel before going to the castle. As much as he loved being generous, most of the people who came to him had no money but were only able to exchange favors. He gladly accepted favors – fresh honey, a wonderful story, a beautiful flower, but he also liked recieving a salary. 

Still, it doesn’t seem like the streets of Ciel were angry with him for wanting to get paid for his skill; they were only thankful that he was generous enough to continue sharing it with them after all these years.

As Sooyoung socializes with the patients, she is courteous as she asks about their ailments. She can take fifty people’s troubles and tell you every single one – she just has that sort of memory. She would write down all the conditions if she knew how to read or write; only now have you taught her how to count, so that she can refer to each patient as ‘patient at blanket number x’ so it is a more efficient way of describing them.

You and Soobong along with Doyoung are going out to the cart and bringing in jars and wrapped packages of medicinal herbs, from marigold to milk thistle to goldenseal.

When the last of this week’s stock is brought in, Sooyoung approaches you and tells you what conditions people have today. 

“The man at blanket thirty is suffering from diarrhea and his wife is very worried about him,” she reports, ending her interactions with all the patients. All of these conditions you’re too familiar with after years of healing. Diarrhea from eating contaminated meat. Cholera from drinking contaminated water. Itchy skin due to a poor personal hygiene regiment. Infection after a metal bucket scraped skin. Sleeplessness after the violent death of a loved one. All of these conditions, you were able to easily escape due to your high status. And you were the one with the best healthcare in the Kingdom after you rarely did anything. When was the last time you picked up a bucket? Or had itchy skin? You live such a good life that half the time, you didn’t need a healer. 

But these people do. And they don’t have a healer.

You, Soobong, and Doyoung crush some marigold leaves for the man with the infection, valerian for the sleepless woman and others, handing the paste to Sooyoung who would administer the herbs to the patients. Thankfully, as more and more sick people came in, more and more help was arriving, including Na Jaemin. 

He and a few others were bringing injured-looking people. You rushed to their sides, helping them out after abandoning the leaves you were crushing. Before Soobong could do anything, Doyoung ordered him to stay and that you and Jaemin were taking care of whatever needed taking care of.

“What happened?” You gasped, carrying the people to empty blankets. Jaemin follows you, carrying a heavy-looking older man. 

“T-There was a riot,” Jaemin says breathlessly. 

“A riot?” You echo dumbly. Jaemin nods. 

“The Carcel,” he says as if he explained the whole story. At your confusion, though, he continues. 

“There was a storming. Weapons were stolen, and the place was trashed before it started burning.” Your blood runs cold. 

The Carcel has served as a fortress, armory, and political prison for as long as you can remember. Erected by your great-great-grandfather to protect the castle – the old castle that your family used to reside in before picking a different, more luxurious location in the countryside that gave plenty of room to expand; that castle burned in an earlier, angry riot. Now it looked eerie in the capital, and it was moderately reconstructed as an armory and a prison for prisoners that your father decided not to kill on the spot before his killing spree started.

Knowing this information, Ambrosia was teetering closer and closer to ruin. You gulp. You thought that if your father gave more freedoms to the people and modernized, there would be a higher chance that you would still be in power for generations to come, or at least… your lives. Now, that hope is all gone. People are angry, and they won’t stop until the Royal Family is gone for good. You know what that means. The people won’t rest until your heads are hacked off by the Dragon’s Fang.

“A-And these are,” you take a deep breath. “Insurrectionists?” You ask. No matter how much sympathy you had to the people of Ambrosia who have been wronged by the royal family, you still feel a chill crawl down your spine

You wonder how Soobong, Sooyoung, and Jaemin would react if they knew your true identity – or anyone in this room except Doyoung knew.

“Not all of them. Some of them were just caught in the crossfire.” 

“What were you doing there?” You ask accusingly. You bite your lip in shame, hating how transparent you seem. Jaemin looks at you with a brow raised. For all he knew, you were just Y/N, a maid to a nobleman who knew Doyoung as a child on the streets of Ciel.

Immediately, you clear your throat. “It could have been dangerous. Are you hurt anywhere?” You ask with concern, taking his bare forearms in your hand to inspect. You furrow your brows at a fresh-looking mark, but it’s just a smudge of red dirt. 

Jaemin smiles. “No. Clean as I’ll ever be.” He chuckled in a hearty way that put all your worries at rest. He continues. “And I was there because my cousin was there. I didn’t want him doing anything stupid, but he wouldn’t listen to me, so I went to watch him.” His expression hardens. “Where his stupidity took him,” he grunts, pointing to another boy carrying a younger boy, maybe fifteen years old, to a bed, with bleeding on his arms and his leg twisted. 

“Jaemin!” A voice shouts. You and Jaemin whip your heads to see Doyoung, still crushing leaves into paste and squeezing the juice out of roots. “I need some help over here. Y/N, work with Sooyoung to get the ailments of the newcomers.” 

“Yes, Doyoung,” you say and shuffle away. To Doyoung’s perceptive eye, he could see slight cuts on your fingers from all the crushing, and he couldn’t possibly return you home like that. So, he gave you a less taxing job. It was a shame though – you were one of his most skilled apprentices.

Sooyoung takes care of half of the newcomers while you take care of the other half. As you ask them what is ailing them and inspect their injuries, you can already see yourself writing a mental list of needed herbs: marigold, garlic, echinacea, aloe vera, poppy seeds. All of these were anti-inflammatory plants with poppy seeds bringing patients to sleep to help cure their wounds. 

But there is a face, an unmistakable face attached to a body that is sitting on a blanket. Despite the contusions on his face and body, as well as his twisted leg at an odd angle, the boy sitting at blanket number thirty-seven is Huang Renjun, Prince of Neo. 

As shock finds its way to settle into your face, so does suspicion. What was Huang Renjun doing in a rebellion against the King of Ambrosia?

Every part of your royal instincts tells you to tread carefully. If Huang Renjun is an enemy, then it’s best to keep that information to yourself so you can give yourself an advantage.

Before you can decide whether you should pretend you don’t know him or acknowledge his existence, Renjun speaks first. 

“Y/N,” he says softly. You look around. Soobong, Jaemin, Sooyoung, and Doyoung all look preoccupied, and the others that you know are hurriedly applying salves to injured people or offering them edible medicine. You didn’t want to explain how you knew this stranger. 

Renjun, like you, is dressed in a commoner’s clothes. He wears a casual set of commoner’s breeches and a faded, light-blue shirt. He has a brown hat next to him that smells oily and full of sweat, and his jet-black hair is disheveled, compared to when you met him. Renjun has been staying at the castle, and your father and his father are trying to strike a favorable deal when it comes to providing an army to quash the Resistance. During the past two days, from what you can hear behind the door, it is a long deal, with both men throwing numbers and getting others to write a contract of this agreement. Renjun has been sitting in the negotiations, to learn the art of negotiation, but you aren’t allowed to sit in. And when they aren’t negotiating, the three of them go hunting together, for your father to get to know the man that will marry his daughter and take over his kingdom. So, you haven’t seen the boy ever since you talked about Aeschylus and other Greek authors and myths together, only seeing him in passing at dinner, which you are almost always joined by the Huangs. Other invitees at dinner seem interested in this stranger, leaving almost no more time for you to know him.

At this moment, your chemistry is undeniable. 

“What are you doing here?” You blurt out. 

Renjun smiles in pain. “I’m injured obviously. But I could also ask the same for you.” He eyes you in your maid’s outfit. 

“I mean, what were you doing at the Carcel?” You inquire. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You see him reach for something, and you tense up. Your instinct thought it was a knife, a plan to kill the Princess of Ambrosia since he is the only one in this crowded room who knows your true identity. 

The object Renjun was reaching for was his dirty messenger bag, and he struggles to open the latch. You take the bag and look inside. Paints, and a smeared painting of roses. You’re not sure if it’s red paint or blood.

“I was painting at the Square.” He says simply. The town square is still a bustling place, in viewing distance to the Carcel, cobblestoned and filled with a rose garden that is sometimes known as the envy of the land, the only place in Ciel that doesn’t look hopeless thanks to various people in the area who consider those roses a part of Ciel’s character. It’s the only greenspace in the center of Ciel, minus a small wooded place two blocks away where helpers gather poppy seeds and milk thistle. 

“I was painting roses since it was the only time I could get away from everything,” Renjun starts. “But then I heard people screaming and there were people with weapons and then a stampede ensued.” Renjun shivers thinking about what happened in the past thirty minutes, and at this movement, his twisted leg twitches and he bites his lower lip to contain a scream.

You’re about to scurry off and get something for the pain, but Renjun grips your wrist tightly, an uneasy smile on his face. 

“You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you scoff.

“Enlighten me.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m here as a healer. I come every week with Doyoung.” 

“And I can imagine that it’s not what you’re supposed to be doing?” Renjun asks, knowing what the obvious answer is. 

You don’t answer him. 

“Well, I was here doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing.” He chuckles. “If my father found out I was painting, he would rip me in half.” Renjun wasn’t lying. The life of a royal was restricting, no matter if you were a man or a woman. For a man, hunting was seen as an appropriate, manly hobby, but painting isn’t.

“Apparently, painting is only for indecent people who ogle naked women and sleep with their muses.” 

You almost want to gasp with how crass Renjun sounded. Renjun only laughs at your shocked expression before sucking in a breath due to his pain. With a wet cloth on a tray nearby, you dab the wounds on his arms, and Renjun’s face contorts at this gesture. 

You hurry back to the shelves of herbs and grab some marigold paste and some thin, bandage cloths. Gently, you apply the salve on Renjun’s wounds and bandage them with a precision that you have been perfecting for a long time. Renjun only focuses on you as he tries to forget about the pain, admiring your expertise. It wasn’t every day that a royal knew a skill that didn’t include commanding others to do tasks for them.

Looking at his awkward leg, you make direct eye contact with Renjun. 

“This is going to hurt a lot,” you say. Rushing to the counter at the front, you grab a stick and give it to Renjun. “Put this in your mouth,” you say in a commanding voice that Renjun doesn’t want to argue with.

Carefully, you hold the side of Renjun’s knee with one hand, and with the other hand, you yank his leg, locking it back into its correct place. 

The twig in Renjun’s mouth snaps during the process. 

“You were right,” Renjun says breathlessly.

“Say,” Renjun says after a while of watching you apply a salve of milk thistle on the cuts on his legs before bandaging them. 

“I won’t tell your father that you were out here healing the poor, not once but weekly with Doyoung unless I get to paint you.” The request is shocking, and you look at Renjun, puzzled for a split second before you make an offer of your own, a smile on your face. If there’s anything a royal is good at, no matter a man or woman, it was negotiating.

“And I won’t tell your father that you were painting unless you come and help out with me here,” you counteroffer. 

“An eye for an eye,” Renjun recalls, remembering how you passionately defended Queen Clytaenmestra for making King Agamemnon to pay for his life after leading his eldest daughter to her death. In this case, one favor each to keep you both doing what you loved doing.

“Yes. This knife cuts both ways,” At how solemn you both sound, you two look each other in the eye to seal the verbal contract that you have just created.

For once, your parents made a good match for you.

-

It’s another few days before you see Renjun again. It’s at dinner, but this time the air of tension, filled with encoded thoughts is gone, and both your father and the King of Neo look jubilant. That can only mean one thing: they both have reached a deal that they are both happy with. It’s surprising, given that at the end of such long deals, one side is unhappy in ‘giving in too much’ while the other believes that they have won a match. 

Nonetheless, dinner is no less than fine. Renjun’s father sits at the end of one table with Renjun at a seat nearby, while your father is seated at the other end of the table, with your mother accompanying you. You sit in between your mother and Renjun, while on the other side, the King’s advisor is facing you directly. Joining you tonight are a couple of earls and marquis who your family has always been particularly close with, enough so to share such an important meal as tonight’s meal. 

“We have some exciting news,” The King of Ambrosia says. You think everyone in the room already knows what the news is due to his expression, but that doesn’t stop him from sharing. 

“King Huang and I have reached a suitable deal. They will provide a sum of armory and mercenaries to help us with our problems with rebels. Just in time after the incident at the Carcel. He has been so agreeable due to the arrangement that Princess Y/N and Prince Renjun have. Our grandchildren will be certainly powerful!” Your father cheers. You smile pleasantly and find Renjun’s face beside you, and he also stares at you with equal fondness. The others in the room are pleased that you two have gotten on well. Although they only know of one meeting between you two, no complaints have been made by either of you against the other. For the two of you, suitors are a touchy subject, and you both have a hard time getting along with others that you are arranged to marry, but this time, it seems like two kindred souls have met. 

Your father’s prayers have been answered; Ambrosia won’t fall to ruin after his overspending. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from having lavish, excessive meals every night while the people of his kingdom are starving. 

King Huang starts speaking. “The King and I have started talking about something to celebrate the upcoming marriage. We have discussed a tourney in Princess Y/N and Prince Renjun’s honor.” 

Your mother claps gleefully, and the King’s advisor looks thoughtful. He hoped that Neo’s resources were in plenty, so he wouldn’t have to impose more taxes. 

Your mother looks at you pointedly for you to make a response, but Renjun speaks first. “On behalf of myself and my betrothed, I thank you both for your generosity.” His voice is crisp, sincere yet formal. He looks at you with a smile. “I’m sure that we both are going to enjoy it.” You both know that if there’s anything that you’d enjoy, it would be a room full of books and paints. 

The servants arrive with plates and plates of food, freshly and expertly cooked by the castle chef. You eat the creamed lobster, poached eggs, meat-stuffed bread, carrot purees, chocolate souffles, and wash it all down with red wine. The table is filled with content eating sounds, the clacking of forks against ornately designed china. 

As the last plate is collected by a kitchen maid, music fills the nearby ballroom. 

“A night like tonight should be celebrated with music!” Your father announces. The dinner party follows him and the King of Neo to the ballroom, where there is a live orchestra filled with the best musicians in Ambrosia. They play waltzing music, so the earls and dukes start dancing with their wives, and their children find people to dance with. 

“May I have this dance?” Renjun is on one knee, his hand held out as he waits for you to accept his invitation. You scoff a little at how ‘noble’ he is acting, compared to the boy painting in secret and stating that he hated meeting suitors. 

“Of course, my betrothed,” you say smoothly, taking the boy’s soft hand. He stands upright, and you look almost eye-level with him. He gingerly puts a hand to your waist and the other clasps your hand as he dances with you. You think that you probably learned to Walz around the same time you learned to walk, and the steps feel familiar as you follow the compound beat. 

“One, two, three, one two three,” Renjun murmurs to himself. If you hadn’t been listening carefully enough, you wouldn’t have heard him count to himself. You only did so when you were a beginner of the walz, counting to make sure that your steps were correctly timed as your dance instructor danced with you. 

You can’t help a giggle bubble up your throat. 

“What’s that?” Renjun asks. 

“What’s what?” You reply, feigning ignorance. 

“I know you heard me.” Renjun confronts you. 

“I’ve never heard anyone our age counting during the Walz.”

“What’s wrong with counting? I like to be precise.” Renjun challenges in that playful way that you can’t get enough of. You exhale. 

“Only children count when they Walz.” 

“Can I make a confession?” Renjun asks. His voice is quiet, and his lips are close to your ear, his breath hot and smelling of spices. At this moment, he looks absolutely ravishing. 

He doesn’t wait for you to reply. “I only learned to Walz last week. Your mother taught me. She thought it was improper that I didn’t know how to dance with a lady.” That did sound like your mother. You take a second to see her dancing with your father in a perfect Walz, from years of hosting and attending events that are similar to this one.

You sigh, bringing your body closer to his and correcting any of his missteps. You loved the way that his body deliciously brushed against yours, and the way that his hand moved down your back, not entirely gentlemanly. You keep your voice quiet, closing some space between your faces. “She knows I don’t care about that.”

“Does she?” Renjun questions. You don’t answer. The royal breed wasn’t exactly the best listeners. There were a lot of ideas that your parents liked to push into your head, such that a woman should be the type devoted to her husband and her life’s work is creating an heir to the throne. And there is one thing for sure: women were supposed to be pure. They didn’t have sexual urges, they were subject to the will of their husbands. 

You’re not going to pretend that thoughts wouldn’t enter your brain as Renjun’s length brushes your leg…  

You and Renjun keep dancing for a few more minutes, but neither of you is really feeling the mood anymore. It’s always a surprise how the upper class can keep dancing and dancing and dancing.

“Does this dance ever end?” Renjun groans. No one seems to hear him, trapped in their own worlds. 

“It does now,” you say. You stop dancing and gently yank Renjun’s arm. Without an eye on either of you, the dull Walz music becomes a distant memory as you both walk into the dark castle corridors. There are a few guards here and there, but you and Renjun walk up the stairs and stop midway through the staircase, on the flat piece of floor that proceeds another swivel staircase. A large window is on the wall, and you can see the moon, a small crescent. 

There’s something so romantic about the dark, something that makes you want to unleash your inner feelings. Huang Renjun is thinking the same thing. 

You can barely see each other’s faces as your lips meld into his. Renjun was different, and you wanted him, you think as you taste his lips from every possible angle, his nose bumping into yours. His hands feel intoxicating as his hands find your waist, his grip deceptively tight as if he never wanted to let go of a woman like you.

At the sound of echoing footsteps, you and Renjun jump away from each other and search for the source of the footsteps. It’s a few guards, and they make brief eye contact with you and then with Renjun. 

You press a quick kiss on Renjun’s lips. It was the perfect time to stop. You haven’t given up your chastity just yet, your dress was still on! Now you would leave him wanting more. It was the strategy your mother gave you when you were meeting suitors, but you can find other ways to keep that statement relevant in your life.

“Until later, my sweet,” you lean in, murmuring those sultry words against his lips. You leave him standing by the large window as you find your way back to your chambers on the other side of the castle, becoming a smaller and smaller shadow in Renjun’s vision.  

-

The next time you would visit the streets of Ciel is sooner than you think, for this week has gone by rather quickly. As per your agreement with Renjun, he would help you out in the makeshift apothecary with Doyoung if you kept his secret that he paints in his spare time. This week, the apothecary is not less active than it was last week since the spread of disease is rampant in these areas, so you’re glad that you’re able to bring some forced labor with you.

Renjun is also dressed in servants’ uniforms, getting it from your lady’s maid, who covertly got this from the washerwoman. However, before you got out of the cart bringing you, Renjun, and Doyoung into the city, you still felt like he had a ‘noble’ look to him. Finding some dirt on the ground, you take a handful and rub it on Renjun’s cheek. 

“There,” you say, admiring your handiwork. “You look more like Y/N the maid’s friend.” Renjun just laughs a hearty, carefree laugh. 

The story behind Renjun was easy to fabricate when you were explaining his presence to Soobong, Sooyoung, and Jaemin. He also worked at the same nobleman’s house that you did but as a server, and he wanted to find out what you were hiding when you disappeared one afternoon every week. You made him swear that he would never tell since you were supposed to be working, and after he promised he wouldn’t tell, you brought him here. Sooyoung looked a little suspicious after you told your story, and you felt like your heart was beating in your throat as you waited for her to say or do anything, that maybe she recognized him from the last week after the storming of the Carcel, but she doesn’t say anything. You were more than relieved. 

She probably didn’t care anyway, given that your group needed more help than you could imagine. More healing apprentices showed up, mixing salves and administering medicines, but most of Ciel has been under strict curfew. After the storming, your father demanded that there be soldiers on the streets, prowling for any rebels, courtesy of the deal made with the King of Neo.

They were given the right to shoot if they even looked dissatisfied with how the people were behaving.

Although you were (somewhat) safely tucked inside the abandoned building that you have been paying to keep as a hospital for the sick of Ciel, you can still feel the tension outside, as if they are waves licking at the windows. People walk stiffly, their eyes darting before they say something, trash litters the ground, hastily-built huts and pieces of wood serve as many peoples’ homes as they inhabit the slums for their work. 

Of course, only when there is dissent are the royals actually thinking of the people of Ciel.

Soldiers stand outside, backs straight, yet some squirm in their thick uniforms under the bright, hot sun. It’s not like they can do anything to an apothecary, so they stand, looking around. The thought of being watched makes you feel almost breathless, and you just hope you don’t look like royalty enough for them to notice. As your heart beats a little faster, you tightly wrap a bonnet you found around your head, focusing your vision only on the sick.

You show Renjun to the table where Doyoung is, and show him how to crush leaves and efficiently save all the healing juice, how to wrap a bandage, how to clean a wound, where to get some water to soak cloths, and where the stores of poppy seeds, milk thistle, and other anti-inflammatory herbs are. Those, you think, are the most important training to learn first. 

Renjun watches as you talk to Sooyoung, the girl who chats with new arrivals and diagnoses their conditions. Then you grab herbs, bandages, and wet cloths and work around the room with the help of Jaemin, who is now administering medicine since Renjun is supposed to be crushing leaves and filling the water bucket.

If you haven’t noticed, life was getting harder at Ciel. Just as you were curing more sick people, more and more people were coming in, needing treatment. Not to mention that not everyone survives treatment; every week, you’re surrounded by death. On top of that, with the current instability in Ciel, Renjun was surprised that you were dead-set on coming with Doyoung because it wasn’t really your job to care. Sure, it wasn’t really Doyoung’s job to care either, but since he grew up in Ciel as an orphan, he always would feel the need to give back to his hometown. But you? You were the child of two royals, who had everything you could ever possibly need in the castle. But that wasn’t enough for you. You had to know that your subjects were okay, and if they weren’t, you wanted to do your part and help even if you have no say in most royal affairs. 

Every day, he has more and more reasons to fall in love with you.

For a while, Renjun admires your work from afar, but he continues to work himself; just being surrounded by such productive people makes him want to be productive as well. 

Finally, he’s able to get a moment alone with you. 

“Why do you even care?” Renjun asks. You both are in a back room alone as you lead him to the borage supply to help cure a family’s fit of coughs. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” You challenge. Renjun voices what he has been thinking while he observed you working yourself to the bone. 

“Because you have everything you need in this life and in the next. What is a reason for doing this other than you’re probably the kindest person I’ve ever met in my whole life?” 

You smile. “You know how our families were picked by God to rule? To conquer?” 

“Of course.” 

“There’s got to be a reason, right?” You question. “To give us such a high position in power over so many people.” 

“He must have seen potential in our families. We need to live up to that.” You say simply. 

“Have you ever told anyone your opinion?” Renjun asks quietly. 

You snort a little before looking at your feet. “Once. To my father.” You turn your head to face Renjun, the smile widening on your face. “That was probably the hardest slap I’ve ever received.” 

Renjun closes the space between you, and his face is so close that your noses are brushing. “Probably not as hard as the whipping I got after getting out of our palanquin to give a homeless man a few crackers in my pocket.”

“I guess we’re two soft-hearted people.” You giggle, finally closing the pesky gap between your lips. You pull away, letting your finger trace his lips. Renjun’s nostrils twitch at this feeling. 

“We’re going to be different rulers when we get the throne, right?” You ask as you study his soft, pink lips that look deliciously kissable. 

“Of course,” Renjun says after a long pause. “If there was a way to tell the people to wait for a little while longer…” Renjun trails off as he presses his forehead against yours. Immediately, he feels the dampness of your skin, how you’re sweating in this hot building, but he doesn’t care.

Renjun thinks he loves you now at this moment more than he ever thought he would even though your appearance is less than exemplary. But because it’s imperfect, it makes you feel more real. 

“We’re going to give people more freedoms, like in other countries. We’ll share our resources better. And we can build schools to educate people and help them learn how to make the right decisions,” Renjun says. The word ‘we’ echoes in your brain. For the rest of your lives, Huang Renjun would be on your team, and together you would try to undo the oppression that your families have facilitated through generations. 

“Would you rather be loved or be feared?” You ask Renjun as you absorb the warmth of his chest. It’s a pleasant sort of heat, not the heat that prikles your skin.

“I hate that question.” Renjun chuckles. 

“Just answer it,” you pout. 

“Fine.” Renjun sighs. “Feared.” You raise an eyebrow curiously.

“Why?” 

“I only want to show love for my people. But I want my people to fear what will happen if they take advantage of me.”

“Interesting take,” you say softly. “You already know my answer. Love. I want to be loved by my people, no matter what.” 

Renjun takes your cheeks into his hands as he stares into your beautiful eyes. 

“Just be careful, my darling,” Renjun says. “You’re so trusting, too trusting for a royal.”

“Isn’t that what you love about me? That I’m different?” You ask playfully, poking his chest with your index finger.

Renjun doesn’t answer, only placing a kiss on your warm cheeks 

You take Renjun’s hands and wrap them around your body so you can be held in his embrace. The future together seemed so sweet, but now, you need to focus on the present. 

“Right, the borage,” you say, pulling away reluctantly.

-

If there was anything that your royal parents would disapprove of, it’s letting a man into a young maid’s bedroom, especially if she is unmarried. 

But you’re not for one with the status quo, and as per the deal, you were going to let Renjun paint you. The only place that wasn’t crawling with servants and event planners trying to organize the tourney celebrating your’s and Renjun’s upcoming wedding that would be held on the royal grounds was your bedroom. 

If there was anything you yourself would disapprove of is not keeping your word. 

You’re sitting on the ottoman by the window of your bedroom, one leg over the other and your hands knit over your knee as you pose for Renjun’s painting. You’re wearing a long turquoise dress, one that doesn’t have a million underskirts. Renjun wanted you to wear a dress that was so undeniably you, and this turquoise gem was it. The soft blues complimented your pacifist nature, and it was incredibly simple too. It is one of those dresses where the top is laced up, creating a ‘v’ on your chest, and underneath, to keep you modest is a white under-dress. The sleeves are conical and long, which is one of your favorite styles. Your parents didn’t like this dress after you requested the seamstress to make it because it looked like something a working-class girl would wear, which after that, was the reason why you weren’t allowed to request dresses anymore and your mother would do that. You were only available at the dress fittings, which bored you beyond end. 

It was just another way for your mother to silence you.

After some ten minutes of Renjun painting, you had a hard time remaining still, and that was when Renjun asked you to focus on something. You thoroughly focused your gaze on him, at his furrowed eyebrows at how he paints, dipping his brush in water, mixing new paints on his wooden palette. It’s as if the rest of the world is drowned out as he paints, and he exists only with you, his canvas, and his brushes. The way his eyes would drink in your appearance to replicate on the canvas made your heart rise to your throat; not so hidden in his eyes is his lust. 

Renjun stops for a few moments. His fingers are at his chin as he looks pensive, looking between the canvas and you. His eyes are glazed, and his lips are pursed when he suddenly says something in a raw voice.

“Take off your clothes.” 

“Excuse me?” You shoot back, stunned. 

“You heard me.” 

You’re not sure what’s happening in your chest, if your heart completely stopped beating or it’s beating so fast that you can’t even tell its keeping you alive.

You’re finally able to regain your composure when you say back wittily, “I guess you’re turning into the kind of painter that ogles naked women and sleeps with their muses.” 

“I guess so,” Renjun smirks. 

Your simple dress slips off your shoulders and falls to the ground when you unclasp the hook resting at the nape of your neck, and the following hooks that went down to your mid back. You’re left in your underdress, and your corset is beneath that. 

“Beautiful,” Renjun murmurs. At the way you stop, reveling in his attention, Renjun chuckles. “Now take it off. All of it.” Renjun says. He watches how you untie your white underdress that is fastened by a thin bow on your waist, and he watches how the string comes undone, and the dress comes to your feet. You untie your corset in the same way and discard it carelessly to the side. 

“I never liked that thing anyway.”

Renjun’s eyes travel down your body, to the way your waist is curved, beautiful with an hourglass shape and a cute paunch. He watches how the nubs of your breasts become hard at the way they are exposed too long, and to a man for the first time. 

You sit back down on the ottoman. You think about re-creating the pose you were doing but think against it. As a caterpillar comes out of its cocoon to become a butterfly, you shed your cocoon of clothes and become this butterfly.

And you love how your nakedness weakens the man in front of you. 

You reposition yourself on the ottoman, the expression on your face playful and carefree as you let your breasts hang on your chest shamelessly, plaching your arm between your narrowly-open legs to cover your womanhood. At the way your shoulder hunches, you create a cleavage on your chest.

It’s as if you’re Medusa, turning him into stone as he not-so-secretly ogles, the strokes of his brush against the canvas more sparse. 

All of a sudden, you leap from the ottoman and saunter to Renjun, who stares up at you from his sitting position. 

“You know you’re supposed to stand when you’re in the presence of royalty. That’s basic manners.” With a coy smile on your face, you swat his shoulder, your breasts jiggling and almost hitting his face. 

“Y-yes Your Highness,” Renjun says, bashfully looking away. He stumbles as he stands, and you can see even through his thick breeches a large erection. You can’t stop yourself from giggling as you grab him. Your bed is barely a meter away from where Renjun is, and you grab his shoulders and push him backwards, forcing him under you on the bed. 

You have both of his wrists in his hand as you animalistically kiss him, your womanhood searching for his manhood underneath his clothes. You can feel his rough stubble from his cheeks after maybe two days of not shaving, and it feels delicious, that you’re being touched, fucked by a real man. Renjun passionately enjoys your kiss, biting and sucking your lips as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues war inside your mouth, sliding against each other in a slobbery way that is normally disgusting, but beautiful if it is done with the right person. You gasp as his tongue reaches further and further down your mouth, almost entering your throat. Your second of shock allows Renjun’s wrists to slip from your grip, and he places them on your naked side, squeezing the softer part of your body, his hands slowly climbing up and down your back until finally, he gives your rump a delicious squeeze. Panting, you finally find his hard dick under his clothes, and you hump him as hard as you can, moving your hips along Renjun’s body, shaking your bed.

“Slower, Your Highness. You don’t want to break the bed,” Renjun chuckles. 

Renjun audibly moans at how you’re riding him, but slowly, the pleasure comes to an end. Renjun opens his eyes (that he didn’t realize was closed) to see you slide off of the bed, reaching from the side to pull off his breeches. 

“You’re reading my mind,” he says. You’re able to pull his thick breeches and pull up his tucked-in shirt to find his cock hidden in his underclothes. You pull it down to Renjun’s mid-thigh, watching with excitement as his cock springs out, large and erected at how much your humping aroused him. You reach out and excite his member some more, moving the delicate skin up and down, squeezing his hard length.

Leaning forward, you decide that it is time to suck, and you wrap your lips around his cock. You move your head up and down his length, your lips following, shielding your teeth from coming in contact with his sensitive skin. Your tongue swirls around his member, creating obscure saliva designs, and you can hear Renjun above you, turning into puddy by the minute as you pleasure him. 

Your mouth starts to fill with seed suddenly, and you gulp it down, tasting the sweet cherry pie that was for desert tonight in his cum. You close your eyes blissfully, and you don’t even realize that Renjun is sitting up. With a strength you didn’t even know he possessed, he pulls you up to his side, and he climbs on top of you. 

He’s ready to take charge. 

Renjun takes your lips into his mouth as he freely moves his hands on you as if he’s never going to touch you again. He hands travel from your cheeks to your jawbone, moving down to your collarbone and then your nice, plush breasts. He spends a few moments there, letting his hands massage the soft flesh, and you can feel moans leave your mouth. After a few moments, he focuses on your nipples, pinching them until you yelp. Then, his hands travel down your body, to your slightly paunchy stomach and your curvy sides. His hands wander to your throbbing womanhood, and his lips wander to the side of your neck. 

You’re overcome with more pleasure than you think is possible. 

“You’re so beautiful, like art.” Renjun murmurs as he pulls away from your neck, starting lovingly at your ruffled hair, at your smooth skin, at your bruising breasts and neck that will surely yield black and purple marks from tonight’s activities. 

You smirk at him. “Then you should be looking, not touching.” 

Renjun’s eyes glow at how you use your wit, how mischievous, how playful yet serious you can be. He’s lucky to consider a woman like you his betrothed. 

“You’re the exception.” 

Once those words slice the air, you feel Renjun’s fingers force themselves inside of you. About to scream, Renjun takes his other hand and places it over your mouth. 

“You don’t want the world to hear how good you’re getting fucked, hmm?” Renjun asks in a soft voice. Your screams remain trapped between your lips and his palm as Renjun forces one, two, four fingers into your womanhood. Your legs are flailing, but Renjun’s position on top of you keeps him steady on your body. 

Everything that comes out of your mouth is just a jumble, but you can hear yourself whimper and moan while saying “please.”

“You’re so well-mannered, Your Highness,” Renjun coos. “Oh, look,” Renjun notices. “Something came,” 

You don’t realize the white-ish, clear-ish liquid that came out from how fucked you were getting until you look down. 

As Renjun leans down for a taste, you suddenly close your legs. Renjun’s hands travel to your upper thighs, his knees on the ground since he hopped out of the bed. 

“Please please let me taste it, Your Highness,” Renjun begs from underneath you. His eyes become larger, rounder, and you realize that the power has shifted to you. For you and for Renjun, you realize that you both don’t fully take control of the bed, but it comes in waves. As Renjun becomes more submissive, you can feel yourself inflate, becoming more dominant. 

“Beg some more,” you command. 

“Please please please,” Renjun says in a string, the word jumbling more and more as he repeats his desire. He nestles his chin between your thighs and looks up at you with wide, innocent-looking eyes. 

It was these same eyes that watch you flail around as he inserted digit after digit of his right hand into your vagina. He’s a lion in sheep’s clothing, and you can already feel the little sheep start to suck the skin of your inner thighs, pressing loud smooches. You watch him graze your legs, his nose becoming covered with a dollop of his own saliva as he uses his mouth to convince you. 

You don’t realize that you’re opening your legs to fully enjoy the pleasure that Renjun is giving you when you feel his head between your thighs, licking your vagina. 

“Mmmhm” Renjun rumbles to himself, enjoying your sex. You can feel loud moans catch in your throat at how skillful his tongue, how sinful this pleasure feels. Renjun moves up your body, to your lower stomach, trailing your skin with your own cum until he finally meets your jawline. He presses more than ten loud smooches to that small piece of your body before surrendering his lips to yours, his mouth tasting like the cherry pie that you ate also that was present in your cum. 

Renjun’s hands still linger by your pussy, taking your cum in his hands. You feel slightly ticklish at what he is tracing along your stomach, and you look down, only to see his name written on your skin in your cum. 

“Mine,” Renjun says possessively, quickly taking your lips into his mouth. You bring Renjun closer to you, crushing him against your body because you want to become one so badly. You tangle your legs with Renjun’s, feeling his bare, naked member rub against your clit. Renjun decides to drive you crazy, rather than relieving you and your throbbing walls with his large dick, he decides to keep rubbing himself against you. 

“Please, please go in, Your Highness,” you address your betrothed, properly. “I need you I need you,” you mumble to yourself. 

“Have you got enough room for a future king?” Renjun asks coyly. 

“Yes, Your Highness. King Renjun,” you reassure him. 

With that, Renjun pounds his length into you, in and out, in and out repeatedly until you start feeling your head spin with delicious pleasure. 

Yet at the same time, you feel adrenaline coursing through your veins. You feel like you could lift a mountain with how much energy Renjun’s dick puts inside of you. Renjun shakes a little, roaming his body along yours so that his penis could explore inside of your walls. You gasp at how good that feels, how your walls squeeze his member, craving for his seed that dried up after you gulped it down like a hungry child.

As your mind wanders, the whole world turning into background noise as Renjun’s dick pounds into you, you whimper at the pain, how Renjun is tearing at your hymen. Yet, you still feel pleasured at the sensation, satisfying Renjun’s manly needs, and your needs for new experiences. 

You look down at your stomach, and maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear you see the outline of Renjun’s penis in your stomach as it roams around. You gasp and whine at how good the feeling is, how rough Renjun’s hands are while he grips your sides, and Renjun pulls out, his member dripping with his seed, arousal that coursed in him due to being inside of you. He pounds his length into you more and more as he looks into your eyes. 

You feel as though you could be trapped in this moment forever, of just you and Renjun panting to a rhythm that only you two know, completely naked as Renjun puts a little more of himself in you, making you both into one person. You think that all your problems being a royal, the daughter of your father, the impending stress of taking your kingdom and enforcing a newer, freer, more modern rule that hasn’t been seen or heard before. Certainly your royal advisors would be against it, only interested in perpetuating the old ways. 

Those problems feel elevated knowing that Renjun is by your side. Fucking your brains out every night. 

Renjun heaves a breath as he finally pulls out of you completly for a second time, lying down next to you. His member is still seeping with cum, and with a mischevious glance, you climb on top of him, your nipples barely touching his chest with how you’re positioned on top of him. You grab his penis, pleasuring it for a little bit before squeezing out more cum from your betrothed. He moans at your touching, and you can feel him shifting his position so he can enjoy you on top of him more. Pulling yourself away slightly, you trace your name onto his skin. 

“Mine,” you say with a cheeky grin, admiring your handiwork under the moonlight that filtered into your bedroom. 

All of the animalistic urges are gone from you two, and you both are panting heavily at the activity of the last hour, staring into each others’ eyes, shocked that you both were capable of such passion. You bring your face a few centimeters away his chest and kiss his heart. Renjun coos at you, gently placing his lips on your jaw. He trails soft kisses along your collarbone until he kissing the soft flesh of your breasts. He sucks on the nubs of your breasts, this time he is the infant, and he places his head between your breasts. 

“I suppose we were overenthusiastic about our jobs, and made a male heir too quickly,” Renjun murmurs between the mounds called your breasts. Your laugh only causes them to jiggle, causing Renjun to laugh too. 

“We’ll find out if we were successful if I skip my period.” 

“The birth date would certainly raise some eyebrows among the Royal Court,” Renjun chuckles. 

“It would, but then I would remind them that their wives are waiting for them at home, waiting for them to finish their work in the castle and nothing else,” you have a cutely evil look on your face, and Renjun picks up what you try to hint. 

There’s silence between you and Renjun. He pulls his face away from your breasts, and your faces are so close, you can feel the shadow of his nose on yours. 

“I love you,” Renjun says quietly. “From our first conversation in the library, I’ve known you’re the one.” Renjun waits in anticipation for your answer. You trace the outline of his face with your index finger. 

“I love you too. I’m glad that if I’m allied with anyone in this cold world, it’s you.” 

Renjun sighs, and your faces slide against each other. Completely naked under the romantic silver moonlight that pools on your’s and Renjun’s flesh, you act as though cuddling with your beloved like this is the most normal thing in the world.  

“I’ll never let you down.” 

-

The day of the tourney has arrived. Your father and Renjun’s have spent the greater part of two months preparing for this tourney, providing your mother the funds to put it together. If there’s anything a royal woman loved is party planning, and a tourney is just in your mother’s wheelhouse. 

All of your noble friends have been invited, dukes and earls, barons and other landlords that your family is on good terms with. They are said to bring their families, that this was one grand party. 

You’re seated with your mother and father, and Renjun is by your side. The King of Neo would be arriving late today, discussing some terms of the agreement he and your father came up with to his weapons suppliers, and he would be joining you later.

Together, your family and Renjun are watching a fencing match between two men, but the stakes are raised higher in this match: the two competitors must fence on horses. Until one man is unhorsed, the match will continue.

You never understood the point of watching two men fight on horses, but it is something you’ve gotten used to attending hundreds of matches with your family. What was the point in all this when the kingdom needs help? 

Sighing, you keep your thoughts to yourself. Renjun is sitting beside you with equal boredom, and you can tell that he probably has the same opinion as you. However, neither of you suggested leaving for some alone time because after all, this whole event was held in your name. Together, you would imitate the cheers of the other dukes and earls sitting with you, agreeing when they would talk about fencing strategy. 

The man in a dark horse and slim, fitting steel armor is Jung Jaehyun, a knight that was trained in Ambrosia. His father was a lower baron, but his status increased the second that his son was accepted into the King’s Guard when you were just a little girl. With his helmet and his clean strokes to his opponent, you’re reminded of the girlish crush you had on him as he ingratiated himself with your father. However, he married the daughter of an earl and had a daughter that was a few years younger than you. 

Normally, a man can be unhorsed by Jung Jaehyun in the matter of minutes, but his opponent is not giving up. The other man is someone you do not recognize after your years of attending tourneys and matches. He must be some new talent if he is able to be on the roster for the tourney and face of Jaehyun for this long. 

From the others around you, this man’s name is Qian Kun, and he’s from a different kingdom (those around you are throwing around more names than you can keep up with). He’s on a white horse, wearing minimal armour and determination on his face. His name is whispered as if he’s a forbidden secret. If one thing’s for sure, he’s keeping the audience interested – even you and Renjun are focused. 

Every thrust that Jaehyun throws, this Kun is able to block it, moving his body with a flexibility that you know for sure Jaehyun has. Jaehyun has brute force, from what you learned watching him, and he’s able to break down his opponents by being relentless. Most don’t have the skill to dodge. 

After multiple dodges and audience gasps, Kun starts attacking in his own right. You think that Jaehyun took the phrase ‘the best defense is offense’ too seriously because he struggles to dodge Kun’s shots. He’s so used to being on the attack that he doesn’t know how to defend himself properly. Being a big fish in Ambrosia make his skill in taking a strong opponent weak. 

It doesn’t take long for Kun to unhorse Jaehyun, and Jaehyun falls unceremoniously to the ground. The umpire calls it a match and races towards Kun, pulling his hand up in the air to signify to the audience that he really won. The audience is in shock before a few people start clapping, and then the rest. Kun gets a standing ovation from you and Renjun, and the others in the tourney follow in suit. 

The winners of matches get to enjoy the fruits of their rigorous training. There’s a cash prize, and for a boy like Kun, who wears homemade-looking armour and has a tan on his face and neck from rough outdoor work, the cash prize is something that can alleviate his and his family’s pain. 

Finally, you see Renjun’s father, the King of Neo, appear after all the hoopla that Qian Kun’s victory was for this torney. Another match would be taking place between two different knights or other sportsmen. 

“What a match you missed!” Your father says to Renjun’s in a light tone. 

There’s something different in the air with the King of Neo. All of a sudden, you feel as though the eyes of the world are around you. While you’re surrounded by a few of the nobles that your family is close with, the others are scattered around, and if you really think about it, the others sitting around you beside them are completely unfamiliar. They are people that Renjun’s father brought from Neo who are allegedly very close to his family, who would want to honor the marriage of their prince with the princess of Ambrosia. 

The King of Neo nods, and then hands grab your father and mother, as well as your family friends. You feel the tight grasp of familiar hands on your forearms, and you look behind you, to see it’s Renjun. 

His gaze isn’t recognizable. He only looks to his father, waiting for his instruction. 

Your father is cursing, spitting, while your mother’s face is drained of all blood as she stares in horror around her. 

“Renjun?” You ask, looking at your betrothed, hoping this was all some sort of game or mistake, but a part deep down in you knows that it’s not either. 

“Where to, father?” Renjun asks, avoiding your gaze. His grip on you becomes tighter. 

“Take them to the cellar.” 

-

You feel almost stupid as the story is unfolded in front of you. Renjun and his father are the Resistance, and their identities have been cloaked well. Ambrosia, as the largest kingdom in the area, was vulnerable, and the people were struggling and starving. All the King of Neo had to do was inject the idea of revolution by distributing literature that cried for revolution, and educate people that life could be better than being a peasant. Declare independence from your ruler, like those in France and America few years before. That worked as a recruiting process, and made his organization stronger. It gave him ears everywhere and a wonderful plan to destroy Ambrosia and take the fertile land for himself.

The information that your family is almost bankrupt passed to the Resistance through maids that were seen and not heard, and Renjun’s father set up a match that your father could not refuse. It was a perfectly crafted offer that would make any normal man suspicious. You guess your father was just despirate to make his money problems go away.

So Renjun came, his father got what he wanted from your father, and now you were trapped in a cell, your castle sieged. Wooing you or no wooing you, your father would have forced you to marry Renjun, but in the time that you’ve been locked up, you concluded that Renjun enjoyed watching you fall for him.

Huang Renjun was one hell of a trojan horse. Always be wary if a deal is too good. And always be wary when someone is just too perfect. 

You’ve never felt so stupid and childish before. Thinking that after the tourney, you would start seeing dressmakers who would taylor your wedding dress. Hire musicians, cooks, cleaners, and waiters. Tasting delicacies that will be present at the wedding meal. You thought that you were going to be with Renjun forever, but you now realize that forever was just a fantasy. 

Instead, you were starving. Compared to the delicious, decadent three meals per day that you were used to seeing, the mysterious mush that gaolers presented you did not sit in your stomach well, and sometimes, your meal times were skipped. You never knew when your next meal came. 

You guess you now understand the life of the poor people of Ciel. 

One day, out of deliriousness and anguish, from the lack of sleep you were getting on the floor of a wine cellar, you threw your hot mush at the guard who opened the door to give you one of your meals. He hit you across the head and you fell over anticlimactically like a rag doll. 

Furious at this insolence, the higher-ups of the Resistance decided to tortue you some more. Forcing your head into a bucket of ice cold water. Ripping open your skirt. Beating you with anything they had on them; once a gaoler beat you with a spoon. You’re chained to the floor as the door opens, and your new gaoler is in front of you. 

It’s none other than Huang Renjun, the same way you met him but different. His hair is combed back, and he wears a warm overcoat, trousers, and long boots. He has a small book in his pocket. It’s Oresteia by Aeschylus. The weather has been getting colder in the few weeks you’ve been trapped under the castle that you’ve always called your home.

Renjun drops the plate in front of you. He can’t even bear to look at you. 

“How are you enjoying Oresteia?” You challenge, venom in your voice. God, what you thought you would do after you saw Renjun on that fateful day at the tourney. You thought you would slap him and kick him and hurt him in the way that you have been hurting in the past few weeks.

Since you’re too weak to do any of that, you settle for some ‘dull’ conversation about a book, a book that brought you two together. How apt. 

“It’s good.” Renjun says simply. He looks away. He doesn’t say anything more than that. Where is that spirit that impressed you when you first met? You wonder if that was a sham. 

Renjun is about to leave when he stops himself. He turns around and faces you. You, out of all people, deserved an explanation. He shuts the thick door of your cell. He doesn’t face you as he clears his throat.

“You know, I didn’t want to do any of that.” He struggles to say any of this, to verbally disagree with his father. His father is the seed he came from. You are not his blood at all. Words made this whole fiasco more real. 

“Really?” You ask, unimpressed. The dark circles under his eyes tell you that he needs your forgiveness so he can sleep at night. 

“It went too far. Why couldn’t he just be happy with what he had?” Renjun grovels, not speaking to you in particular anymore. 

“I want to speak with my father. Or my mother,” you command icily.

Renjun sits down. “They’re dead. Beheaded two days ago.” His voice is dry and cold. “My father went with them.” 

You gulp. This information isn’t that shocking, yet you feel bile rise in your throat. You knew any news of your parents would mean death. They represent everything that the proletarians hated about the upper class. They would be the first to be kill. Yet still, knowing that the people who raised you, the people who you didn’t always agree with, were erased forever from this world makes your heart sink. 

You don’t have any other siblings. You are now truely alone in this world. 

But then the second part of the news sinks in your brain. You raise your brow. Renjun explains. He finally has someone he can process these events with. 

“Once the other members of the Resistance found out that my father only gathered them so that he could take over, they killed him.” He choked. “Knowing that their cause was manufactured so that another king could rule them made him just as bad. I swore my fealty to the new Resistance in exchange for my life. The organization has decided on a new leader today. A man named Bang.” 

“Just a few hours ago, five of your dearest earls were killed. The ones at the tourney. Bang and his cronies are scouring the records of anyone who was friendly with your family.” 

You snort a little. Renjun looks at you, and he knows that he deserved it. 

“Poetic justice, I guess,” you say, speaking about the deceased King of Neo. Renjun shrugged his shoulder. After a silence ensues between the two of you, Renjun gulps in a deep breath. 

“You know, they want to kill you next. Who better than the offspring of the Mad King?” He asks rhetorically. You were prepared for this. It’s not like you were going to be held in a dungeon until the end of time. You were going to have to face the music for your father’s crimes against his people. It felt so unfair, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“I’ve been postponing it. I tried to postpone your parents’ execution too.”

You didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath. 

“Even after all of this, I still care about you.” Renjun says. His voice is small, as if he’s afraid of someone hearing his declaration of love. After all, there is still a guard posted outside these echoey cellar walls.

Who you thought was a sweet, sensitive, artistic man was one who was always under the thumb of someone else, be it his father or this Bang character. 

“You’ll care about me until your new master calls,” you say derisively. 

Renjun pursed his lips. 

“I deserved that. But I want to be better for you.” 

You bite your lower lip. 

“How?” 

Renjun’s lips are close to your ear; you can barely hear the words he’s saying. 

“My men found a network of tunnels down here. One of the rocks on this wall is movable and will open a passage inside. I will give you a map. When you are done reading, eat it up, so there’s no paper trail.

“When I give you a lantern, you know that that is the time. I’ll give you a watch and a slip of paper about the time that there are the least guards watching the outside of this castle. I’ll distract anyone else. All you have to do is run. Got it?” Renjun asks. 

You’re stunned. Immediately, you want to tell him that you’ve got it, but you’re now suspicious. After all, your family’s demise was being too trusting to the wrong people. 

And Renjun has proven that he’s the wrong person. 

“How do I know if I can trust you?” You ask. 

“It’s the only choice you have. If you don’t escape using this plan and try to run off any other way, then you will be caught, tortured, and beheaded. The Resistance is scary business. You want my help. I’m their inside man. And I love you. I still do, even after all of this.”

You sigh. You could be fooled again. But it’s better than rotting in a wine cellar at the mercy of the Resistance, living every day hoping it’s not the day of your beheading. At least running gave you an iota of control that you lacked your whole life, as a royal or as a ragged prisoner.

And there’s something else. His eyes. His eyes were able to fool you once, but there is something truthful to it this time. 

You don’t have to say anything for Renjun to understand your agreement.

-

The lantern comes only a few weeks later. Since Renjun came to you with a plan of escape, you’ve felt more lively, and Renjun notices that as your gaoler for a few weeks. Due to the “good behavior” that Renjun vouched, you were unchained once again in your cell. 

Your first small step towards freedom. 

Renjun is able to slip in a few delicacies that Bang and his cronies are eating upstairs in the dining room that you used to eat your whole life. One day an apple pie, another lamb stew with herbs. While you gobbled down that food – the only food you’re actually able to stomach – he would engage in a brief conversation with you; it was the only social interaction you’ve had since the Resistance took over and placed siege on the castle, yet he would only stay long enough that Bang would not grow suspicious of him. 

Renjun handed you the map only a few days before the true escape, which was when you knew that the biggest moment of your life was coming. He wanted you to learn by heart the tunnels in the castle, enough so that you can reproduce the map in your head, and he didn’t want to give you the map too early in case you forgot. Obediently, you learned the map as best as you can, associating certain turns as if you were walking above ground in the castle that you were raised in. Once you were done, you ate the map, as Renjun said so no evidence would be left behind. 

“180 degrees, vertical” was all he said. You knew what that meant; 6pm. You had no way of keeping time in your little, windowless cell, so Renjun gave you a pocket watch. It wasn’t just any pocket watch, but your fathers that he always kept in his breeches. Overwhelmed with emotion, you dismiss the man who is saving your life, and clutch the pocket watch. 

A few minutes to six, you start palming the stone walls of the cellar, hoping to find the notch that will open a door that is your entrance to the secret passage. Your heart is in your throat as you claw the walls like a despirate animal, until finally you hit the right one. Using the minimal light and the small, hidable lantern that Renjun gave you, you trudge through the secret passage, remembering the map he gave you clearly, each step you take being another “dash” of your path on the map. You successfully navigate until you see a trapdoor. It requires a key for it to open, but you have a beautiful hairpin still in your hair from the day of the tourney. As you wiggle the pin into the lock, you take a deep sigh. This is a side exit that shouldn’t reveal your escape quite immediately. 

Your heart is pounding restlessly as the open air touches your skin. The warm sun and fresh, cool air feel good against your skin, where in the past few weeks, you’ve been entombed in stale air. You gleefully inhale the scent of the garden’s orchids, which is wafting from the garden that is north of your estate. 

You linger a little longer than you should. Renjun didn’t have to say it for you to know that this will be the last time you will see your beloved home ever again. Nothing will ever be the same again. You won’t be a high class woman (not that that mattered much to you anyway), you won’t have your excursions with Doyoung (what happened to him?), you won’t have your exquisite library anymore. 

Your love for Renjun is a distant memory. Today, you will be leaving everything behind. 

Your lingering turns to loitering when you feel a bright flash hit your face. 

“The prisoner!” A guard shouts. He rushes towards you, and you are just quick enough to slip away into the large woods in your estate. You used to play here as a child, and you know the woods like its the back of your hand, and just as Renjun’s map promised, the areas you ran through were sparse of guards. 

You can feel more footsteps thumping the ground as more and more men join the first man that noticed you loitering, and you feel nauseous. You can feel yourself screaming in your head that this is your one last shot, you can’t afford to mess up, and Renjun can’t even help you if you were caught. 

Wading through the creek nearby with your bare feet, you run into a ditch, taking scrap leaves from the ground and covering yourself with the debris. You’re too out of breath to keep running anymore; the gruel has not been doing you any favors. You hide in a nearby ditch, clothing yourself in debris and the shadow.

“Sir, she went through the water,” you hear one man say.

“Then get into it!” Another man said, more likely the head of this security unit. “You all are a bunch of pussies, a little water doesn’t hurt anybody!” 

You hear some reluctant groans as the men trudge through the creek, and you hear the shuffling of various feet at various positions, making it impossible to pinpoint where the noise is truly coming from. 

You’ve never been more terrified in your life. You’re honestly not sure how you’ll react if one of the men on that security team find you. Will you scream? Will you cry? Will your heart break into two pieces knowing what lies in wait for you when you’re sent back to the Resistance? To another, worse cell burrowed deeper into the castle cellar than your previous cell? Tourtue would surely be a staple if you were caught. These are thoughts you want to filter out of your mind, but they seem to be infesting your thoughts. 

“I don’t see her,” you hear one man say. 

“I don’t either,” another man says. You feel slight relief coursing through your veins. 

“What should we do, sir,” one man asks his superior. 

He takes a deep breath. He shuffles through the woods, causing the anxiety and adrenaline to spike in your veins, and he takes a look around once more. 

“Here’s what we will say,” you hear feet shuffling as the men get closer to their commander. “The girl died. She fell down that cliff over there,” he points to the cliff at the distance, the cliff that gives you a view of the Kingdom of Ambrosia. “We don’t mention what really happened here. Understood?” You can imagine that all the men are nodding. 

As you hear the mens’ footsteps receding, you wait for ten minutes before your head peaks from the ditch. The sun has fallen, leaving the world pitch black. 

Quietly, you shed off the debris from your pitiful dress as a snake sheds its skin. 

Now begins your new life. 

-

1802

You think you have seen the sun rise and set almost four thousand times since you escaped from the Resistance’s clutches. You haven’t seen or spoken to Renjun in the past eleven years, and he’s as good as dead. In the end, he righted his wrong, and you are not as bitter as you were when you were thrown into that cellar. 

That night, you traveled tirelessly north from the woods of your estate, going somewhere you didn’t know yet. All you saw were woods and woods and woods. Maybe a racoon or two. Plenty of squirrels. You tried to talk to some, but that didn’t work very well. It was the loneliest period of your life. 

Towns you considered settling in littered the landscape once you crossed Ambrosia’s boarder. Every day, you became a little less fearful that you were being searched for by the Resistance, and eventually, your quest for a new home came to an end after three months of searching. The peaceful little town you would be settling in was called Heaven’s Gate, called because of its high, rocky shores well above sea level. 

From the newspapers, you observed the rise of the Resistance, with more and more bloodshed every day that Bang was in power. Eventually, he was beheaded, and the whole Resistance fell apart. From then, Democracy slowly rebuilt the area. In honor of its roots, the state that is your old home is now the Democratic State of Ambrosia.

The switch into democracy didn’t stop peoples’ fascination with the former royal family that was wiped out. There were public records of the death of your mother and father with images of their bodies and eyewitnesses of their death, but none of you. This lead many scholars to believe that you were still alive somewhere. 

It’s a nicer alternative to the current narrative. 

You smile at the few books and pamphlets you found in your new home’s library detailing the reasons why people think you are alive and where you are now. The common theory is that you boarded a ship to America as a stowaway, living your best life.

It occurred to you that if you walked a little longer, perhaps a few weeks, you could get to the coast and become the stowaway like the stories said and land yourself in America. That would truely be a fresh start. But to leave your homeland? Never.  

The people of Heaven’s Gate were quite unassuming. Nobody asked many questions about your life before Heaven’s Gate. You took on a new identity, and the role as the town’s healer. At the ripe age of thirty-one, you have decided that Heaven’s Gate is your children and that you will repent for the sins of your father against his people. 

You operate your healing out of your home, and thanks to healing a construction worker’s mother, you got an extension for your practice built for practically free. There is an entrance to your office from directly outside, a little waiting room, and an operating room for you to examine the sick. Definetly much better than your travelling medic act in Ciel. 

As you sweep the floors of the operating room, you hear a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” You shout. 

In comes your apprentice Yoona, who has a strange man limping, leaning against her for support, his messenger bag dragging against the dirt. 

“I found him by the creek. He’s already rubbed some marigold paste on his wound, but I wanted to see if you could do anything else with it.” 

When you look at the man, it’s like you’ve seen him before. He’s around your age, wearing shabby, dirt-trodden clothes of someone who has begged for their whole life. He hasn’t looked like he’s showered in days, and he’s thin like a stick, but at the same time, he looks… content? 

Nothing about this man made sense. Beggars didn’t know that marigold stops infections. Where could he have learned that? A friend? He looks like he’s been wandering alone for a long time. 

Deciding not to much further thought into those observations, you notice how Yoona looks at you for a way to proceed. 

“Right,” you say, hoping to hide how taken aback you are. “Any sickness? Headaches, sniffling, coughing?” You ask. 

“None yet,” the man says grimly. “Although that bread looks very nice.” His gaze falls to the bread pan you have in the kitchen next door to your wing, fresh out of the oven. Despite how content this man looks, there’s a glint in his eye that betrays the hunger that gnaws at him, from days of starvation, running off of whatever he could find, most likely berries on the land. The man in front of you doesn’t emanate skill in hunting either, or else he would have a bow and arrow with him.

Out of pity, you take the bread from your kitchen and bring it into your operating room, letting Yoona shoulder the man into your extension. She lays him down on the bed, and nods out. She will be getting the standard items — water from the well, a few blankets, and spare clothes that you kept washed to give to anyone that came to you for medical help — sometimes, just being clean helps cure the illness more than medicine. 

Once she leaves, it’s just you and this stranger. You curiously watch him as he gnaws on the bread, a look of relief in his eyes at not having to forage for this food. Something about this stranger though feels so familiar. But you don’t know how. Any associates of your family were wiped out during the violent period of the Resistance, so no one you love from your old life is left on this Earth. 

Since the man already used your standard cure of marigold leaves, the only thing left for you to do is to rub a fresh coat, wrap a bandage around his wound, and hand him poppy seeds to put him to sleep faster since he has no signs of infection. Sleep is also an excellent cure. 

When you hand him some poppy seeds, the man shakes his head. “I can take that in a little bit. Really I’m fine,” You look into this deep brown eyes, and the feeling of you knowing this man is gnawing at your brain. “Can you hand me my bag?” He asks. You look dubiously at him and to the poppy seeds still in your hands. “I promise I will take them.” 

Knowing that you’re not going to breech this patient’s stubbornness, you grab his bag and place the poppy seeds into a small piece of cloth. The flap on top of the bag is pulled back, revealing a sketchbook and a small canvas. Memories, painful memories haunt your conscience of the boy who fooled you and then saved you. 

Watching the man take his sketchbook, he opens to a page of roses. Immediately, the storming of the Carcel rushes back to you. At the way you’re watching the canvas peak out of the man’s messenger bag, he breaks the silence between you. 

“I can show you what’s inside too.” He says. But you already have an idea what it is. Putting his sketchbook aside, the man pulls out the slightly dusty, smudged canvas. 

It’s you. Naked. That fateful night. 

“Huang Renjun?” You ask, finally able to find your voice. 

The man smiles, confirming his identity. “I was beginning to think I would have to reintroduce myself.” 

You’re completely flabbergasted. “W-What are you doing here?” You ask, your jaw practically dropping to the ground. 

“Getting healed. Remember?” He points to his wounded leg. 

“I know that,” You snort. “What I mean to say is how are you alive? Wouldn’t Bang have had your head since you let me escape? And then the ending of the Resistance. You were extremely high-profile. How did you avoid death all these years?” 

Renjun stares into the distance, recounting his life in the past ten-ish years. “I wasn’t as high-profile as you’d think. I was the Resistance’s painter, painting portraits of high-profile Resistance members. And I was a gaoler. Something about my presence,” Renjun gestures. 

Smiling, you agree. “You do have a power over people. Quite a comforting jailer.”

“I was close to the action, but was never really involved in it. I was more of a servant to Resistance members, if you will. And then the Resistance was overthrown. Any “close” members were taken into an interrogation center. I gave up everything I knew in exchange for a presidential pardon on War Crimes. That lead to the execution of Bang and his lackeys. Their over-the-table chatter led me to know about a little residence they have in Corsica where they went when things got too tough,” Renjun says ruefully.  

You nodded, absorbing every part of this story. 

“And then I heard rumors from old associates from my former kingdom. Neo is now a democracy. And then the papers. That you were alive somewhere. Deep down in my heart, I know you’re a fighter, you’re the strongest person that I know, and I just knew you couldn’t have died somewhere. I would have felt it.” Renjun places a fist against his heart. 

“As I searched for you, I completed this canvas of you with the last of my expensive paints from my time with the Resistance. That’s how I felt so connected to you, so sure you were alive.” Renjun smiles at the painting, letting himself get lost in time. 

He slowly moves his gaze from the painting that provided him condolence and guidance, his eyes glassy. “And here you are in front of me. Living your life. This is the life you always wanted, isn’t it? No royal chaos, no backstabbing and plotting. Just healing.” 

You nod. “I’m happier in this little house in this nowhere town, paid mostly through favors and the peoples’ love of me,” you smile. “I’ve always wanted to be loved.” 

“I remember,” Renjun says. 

Your hand finds Renjun’s. You study the sight. With the dirt caked under Renjun’s fingernails and all the creases in your hands from the mashing and plucking of herbs from questionable places, you can hardly tell that you both experienced a royal life. Genuinely, it feels like it was a lifetime ago. 

“There were times that I wanted to give up finding you, though. This is a big, wide world, and you could be anywhere. The rumors could have been right, and you could be on a boat to America, and I wouldn’t know better. My intuition could only tell me that you’re still alive.

“After seven years of being the Resistance’s little puppet, I was ready to find a purpose in my life again. As cliche as it might sound, my life had meaning when you were in it. Otherwise, I was always working for someone else, whether it was my father or Bong. This was the one thing I wanted to do in my lifetime.

“I had been wandering around for a while, visiting village after village, town after town, never staying too long. I wanted to settle down, but I was also attached to my mission to find you again. So I’d move on. Then your assistant found me. When I walked into this town, and then your house, it screamed of you. After all these years, I was finally sure of something.” 

You’re silent for a long time after this monologue, processing every single word, racking your brain to say something, anything. 

“The period of my life with you was the happiest. I wasn’t meant for the royal life, but having someone who felt the same way felt as though we were meant for each other. And then the Resistance happened. And then you saved me. You corrected one bad deed with one good deed. I don’t miss the old Ambrosia and my old life which is what made me able to forgive you after I escaped. I miss my parents sometimes, though. But if it wasn’t your family and the Resistance, it would have been something else — monarchies are growing out of style.” You chuckle. 

Another silence between you two. You’re out of words to say to each other, enough of the small-talk. Without you realizing, you come closer to Renjun, closer and closer until your chests are pressed together, and you can smell Renjun’s breath. A thin layer of dirt and sweat cover his face, and you take your thumb to brush his cheek, making a visible mark on his face. 

“I never thought I’d be in this moment with you, but the Universe is kind. I love you Y/N.” The fat tears falling from his eyes make tracks along his skin. You feel the stinging sensation of tears developing your eyes. You don’t realize how much you’ve suffered. Townspeople have tried to set you up with their sons, uncles, friends. But you’ve always rejected. At first it’s because you wanted to be a dedicated healer, and it would be difficult to do that with children. But now you know the real reason, and he’s standing in front of you. 

Huang Renjun. He is the reason. Despite all that has happened, despite how he expedited the end of the Kingdom of Ambrosia, you loved him more than you ever realized. Enough that it seems like that love is about to burst. After all these years of being alone, you finally feel complete. 

Grabbing Renjun’s cheeks, you pull him impossibly closer to you, letting your lips land on his and suck his dry, parched lips, but you don’t care. Renjun grabs your waist as he kisses you back.

Your breaths hitting each other’s noses, you finally pull away, your noses touching, as if your bodies can’t bear to be apart any longer.

You were finally going to have your happy ending.

tagging: @peachjaem00 @infnteen @zennymeow-blog @shwizhies

a/n (2): if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! as my longest fic yet, i've spent countless hours on this fic, and i'm glad to publish the final results. i hope you found this fic enjoyable, and let me know what you thought in the comments or in an ask :3

#of course the tags didnt work the first time #nct #renjun #huang renjun #nct angst #nct smut #nct fluff #renjun fluff #renjun scenarios #renjun angst #renjun imagines #nct imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #renjun smut

[rrxnjun]

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

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[thatsatricky1]

𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 || Prologue

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Abandoned. After going through hell and back together, she was left there to fend for herself. Y/n felt as though they’d left her in the dust at the facility. A facility that had taken young gifted children raising them in secret. The eight of them had been taken as children and grown up together at the facility and just when it they had the chance of escaping they made one crucial mistake, leaving her behind in the dust. One big mistake they hadn’t forgiven themselves for, and she would make sure they’d never forget it.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Nct Dream ot7 x Reader.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Angst, Cursing, Fluff, Mystery, Psychological, Supernatural, Thriller, Trauma, Weird Humor.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Slight gore, mentions of blood, mentions of being wounded, angst, abandonment.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,4k+

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: This does not depict an accurate picture of Nct Dream and this is strictly fantasy/fiction for entertainment purposes.

“Run Donghyuck!”

“What do you think I’m doing, strolling through the garden?” Donghyuck replied sharply out of breath as he ran as fast as he could, adrenaline filling his body making him unaware of the stinging feeling in his feet. Jaemin a few paces ahead of him.

Donghyuck skidded to a stop once he finally saw everyone in front of him. Breathing heavily as his eyes scanned over the familiar faces, relief dripping from him but his breath that he finally was catching back was stolen again, eyes widening in realisation.

“Where’s Y/n?!” He barely managed to get the question out from how he was trying to catch his breath back.

“She is coming, don't worry we have one more minute before they start looking for us.” Mark replied, grabbing Donghyuck’s hand, tugging him over to the rest of the group waiting at the mahogany wooden door.

“No this isn’t right, she should have gotten here first.” Donghyuck gasped out in between sucking air greedily back into his body that was desperate for oxygen.

“The security around her hall was timed differently than usual, they changed the rotation early.” Jaemin replied, also heaving in breaths. The whole group needed to gain their breath back.

Renjun winced while checking his pocket watch again, thirty seconds had past, eyes looking down the dark corridor, hearing the blood pulsing behind his ears like a drum.

”Thirty more seconds.” Renjun barely managed to get out.

They’d said from the start that no one would be left behind. The eight of them against the world if they had too. But it had taken months to plan this escape and it looked like one random security route change up would ruin that.

The boys share a glance with each other before Jeno steps to the front deciding something that would change their future.

“We need to leave now.”

“What no. Fuck no. We wait.” Jaemin disturbed as he shook head, eyes widening at Jeno’s words.

“Ten seconds.” Renjun spoke only focusing on his pocket watch hand gripping it tight.

“Our time is limited Jaemin, we can’t wait anymore. She would want us to escape even if she doesn’t get out.” Jeno stressed out grabbing his hair with both hands tugging on it.

Jeno didn’t want to leave her behind but what other option did they have. Stay and continue suffering? They had all been waiting years to get away from the hell hole they were trapped in.

“Jeno is right, there’s no time left.” Mark managed to say even if every fiber of his being didn’t want to admit it.

“Are you out of your mind?” Donghyuck says moving to tug at Mark’s vest slightly red in the face whether from the running or anger no one could tell, most likely both.

“Five seconds.”

“We get it!” Donghyuck spat at Renjun who was still insistently calling out the time left before they really had to go unless they wanted to be stuck there.

“Donghyuck we need to go, she’ll understand.” Mark cut his yelling off lest they get any unwanted attention grabbing his friend's face, cupping his jaw in his hands to face him. Mark noticed the tears welling in his friend's eyes.

”Promise. Promise me that she’ll understand.” Donghyuck all but begged.

“I… I promise.” Mark managed to grit out through clenched teeth.

Mark letting go of Donghyucks face when he finally nodded back.

“Will she be okay?” Jisung finally spoke up, unlike the others who held back tears, his were free flowing.

“Y/n is tough, she’ll be okay Jisung.” Jeno reassured with a tight lipped smile, not sure if he was trying to convince Jisung or himself.

“She will be okay.” Chenle spoke up with a determined look. Out of all of them, Y/n was always the one to keep it together.

“Waiting period is over.” Renjun stated putting away his pocket watch, lip quivering as he watched the hallway in front of them. Silence, with no familiar footsteps coming towards them anytime soon.

Flashes of red neon hued lights flashing on and off. A blaring alarm ringing through the air signally something was wrong in the facility. An attempted escape.

Y/n didn’t know what to focus on. The burning feeling all over her body, muscles aching and screaming for a break, throat dry and swollen from air being swallowed down greedily and being exhaled too fast, blood thumping and rushing. Not to mention the gushing wound on her side.

The stomping of boots fading in the background as she made pace. Always having been the fastest, something the facility took pride in but not at this moment.

For the first time in what felt like days, weeks even she smiled. A smile of relief. Her freedom, her boys freedom so close she could touch it. Somehow the hope in her stomach pushed her faster as she bounded down the second last hallway. Hand still pushing pressure into the side of her torso.

“I’m coming! Boys I’m nearly there!” Y/n let the scream ripple out her dry cracked lips, not needing to be quiet as she was already being chased down. By the ones who’d taken her in the first place.

Taking a sharp right, managing to keep her footing as she raced across the sterile white tiles bare feet staining the floor red in her wake. Seeing the dark mahogany door now.

Her smile dropped into a frown of confusion as she raced down it, not seeing a person in sight. Not the seven figures she’d been expecting to be there. Skidding to a stop a few steps away from the door, that had been left ajar.

Her breathing haggered as she stood wobbling, balance unstable as her eyes trained on the door. Trying to wrap her head around the sight before her. Though it was plain and simple to connect the dots, her mind could and would not accept the sight.

Hand leaving her side slipping away from her gushing wound, slow droplets of blood rolling down her paling hand, falling down onto the once clean white tiles below her.

”No.” Her whisper lost between the loud blaring alarm.

Her figure disappears into the darkness only to reappear every few seconds in the floodlights of red coming from the lights. Swaying slightly now yet her eyes stayed trained on the door, the one that led to her escape.

Her body tried to take a steady deep inhale through her nose but a sudden blinding pain caught her off guard spreading through her head, time seemingly slowing down as her sight seemed to be going sideways.

Y/n not even noticing it wasn’t just her sight going sideways but her body that collapses down onto the ground. A figure behind her being revealed not much older than herself as he stood there eyes wide gazing down at her, his grip on the metal pipe in his hand tighter if possible.

Her body thumped onto the ground in a heap, a mess. Eye glazed over with unshed tears, pain radiating through her. Not just physically but from deep within her.

“Good job Jeongin, very well done my boy.” An older man’s voice cut through the loud alarms.

Y/n not being able to hear it, everything sounding drowned, like she was underwater. She laid there unfocused eyes still staring at that mahogany door from where she was on the floor.

“I told you not to harm my girl, only to detain her!” The older man's voice sounded angry now yelling at people in the distance finally having caught up a bit too late to her.

“Get her to the medical ward, don’t harm her any further or you’ll all be missing a hand as punishment. We’ve already lost seven of my boys, my girl isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

Y/n barely felt the touches against her body, not even the hand that pressed tightly against her wounded side. Her body being dragged up, held against someone as they started walking away from the door.

Her hand just barely managed to lift weakly up in the direction of the wooden door that was slowly getting further away.

‘They left me.’ Was all that ran through her head, hand falling limp, her eyes finally failing her as her eyelids felt too heavy to keep open, the pressure of her eyes closing finally letting a tear slip past rolling down her cheek.

They left me.

Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

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