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nobodyliya · 1 year
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i’m so happy seeing you back here😭😭 and since request are now open, can i maybe request reader going home early just to find boyfriend! jeno and best friend!jaemin jerking of each other but thinking abt you (moaning your name)
Déjà Vu (무대로; 舞代路)
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pairing: lee jeno x na jaemin (x reader? (she/her pronouns))
au/genre: smut, established relationship (between jeno and reader), best friend!jaemin, sub!jeno, dom!jaemin
word count: 1665 words
warnings: god where do it start? mxm content, highkey cheating, bro-talk, alcohol consumption and sexual activities under the influence, sexualization of reader (this is not really respecting women of nomin..), jealousy kink...?, hand jobs, pet names (literally. "puppy".), mentions of: blowjobs, anal, public sex, facials and just reader's body in general, dirty talk, degradation (of reader who is not present), getting caught, this is very unserious. let me know if i missed something.
a/n: you ask and you shall receive. i hope this is kind of what you were looking for? i assumed jaemin is jeno's best friend, i hope that's what you meant <3 um.. yeah. i hope you enjoy? i apologize for any mistakes, this was written in my notes app. also, i'm kind of proud of the title.
You're standing in the doorframe – flabbergasted. Just half an hour prior, you'd been thrilled beyond belief that your ass of a boss offered to let you go home early today (of course only because he knows you know that this way he can guilt-trip you to stay longer another time). On the way home, you kept smiling, sang along to the music blasting from the radio until you pulled into the driveway of Jeno's house. You'd texted your boyfriend earlier about your early release, not receiving a reply but also not expecting one. To be fair, Jeno is a great boyfriend, but once he starts gaming, his mind can't focus on anything else. Knowing his best friend Jaemin was visiting today, you were sure that's what they were doing: Gaming. Well, or so you thought until you saw the sight before you.
"Guys...?"
_______
"You need to control your woman, Jeno," Jaemin says, sipping at his beer that (at 2 in the afternoon) might not have been the ideal choice of drink considering the time, and the fact that it had already three antecedents with a similar alcoholic strength. Jaemin is by far not a lightweight, and he knows his tolerance and what happens when he drinks, so the inevitable was at least predicted: his mouth gets a little too loose for his own good.
"Care to elaborate?" Jeno furrows his brows purely in confusion, not at all in distress.
"The skirts," Jaemin elaborates, hands gesturing in the air without tenor, "too short."
"Ah," Jeno laughs, chest buzzing deeply as the sounds rumble up his throat, "yeah. Man, that's out of my reach. I can't tell her what to wear, you know? Feminism and stuff."
"Man," is all Jaemin can add. He knows this is kind of a weird thing for him to say. Don't get him wrong, he's not drunk enough for his moral compass to lay face-down passed-out somewhere in the corner of his brain, it's rather the mean alcohol taping its mouth shut with duct tape so all it can do is jump around and wave its arms, but not voice what exactly is wrong with this.
"Is it riling you up?" Jeno interrupts Jaemin's thoughts of trying to figure out what's going wrong right now. Immediately, a dirty grin pulls at the left corner of Jaemin's mouth, eyelids heavy as he gives his best friend a singular nod and a quick raise of his eyebrows to confirm the statement. Jeno mirrors the expression. "I get it, bro. I mean, as long as you respect that she's mine, there's no harm in looking, you get me?"
"Is there harm in... thinking, though?" Jaemin asks, chin tilting down to make him look up at Jeno questioningly before he adds a quick "Bro?"
"Well, no. What were you thinking?" Jeno asks from his place at the other end of the small couch, leaning forward to create a more intimate ambiance for Jaemin to spill his guts about the rearrangements he'd love to do concerning Jeno's girlfriend's guts. Should he be a little more worried about this? Maybe. Is the alcohol in his system calming the tiny jealous part he has in him? Not really. Is the alcohol in his system turning him on which results in him not giving a shit about the specific contents of his conversation as long as it contains sex? Absolutely!
"Look, man, respectfully," Jaemin says, placing his close-to-empty bottle on the table before leaning forward as well, "I'd not say no if things were different."
"Look at this guy," Jeno grins, and Jaemin breaks out an even wider one, "her short skirts, huh? That's what's setting you off? That's what's getting you hard?"
"What can I say," Jaemin shrugs, grin still evident on his features, horny-clouded brain ignoring the way Jeno keeps coming closer, the older's grin fading slowly but surely. Okay, maybe the jealous part is a little bigger than estimated. Jeno keeps coming closer, a finger acting with a mind of its own as it presses into Jaemin's (admittedly beefy) chest to push him back against the back rest.
"Hands off my girlfriend," Jeno almost growls. He's towering over Jaemin, the younger's smile not fading whatsoever, unfazed by the older's attempts to seem intimidating and dangerous.
"Do you remember that night after Chenle's party?" Jaemin has no clue why his mind brought this memory back up, possibly since it includes him and Jeno in a similar position.
"I do," Jeno gulps, eyes switching between Jaemin's.
"You're hot when you're mad, bro," Jaemin confesses before he can even start thinking about stopping himself. Also, he finds, there is no need for his blood to rush downwards only because he thinks about you in a skirt, assuming this is the sole reason for his tightening pants.
"I am?" Jeno's gaze flickers down to Jaemin's lips. His brain has yet to catch up with this rollercoaster of emotions, having gone from his general chill vibe Jeno to horny Jeno to jealous Jeno to am i about to fuck my best friend (again)? Jeno in a span of not many minutes (who's counting?).
"Yeah, and I'd give a nut to see you and her in bed together, both if I get to film it."
"I can't let that happen," Jeno says, opting for his voice to sound stern and sure, but it sounds more like he's about to cum in his pants untouched. Maybe he is.
"What are you gonna do about it, puppy? What if I fucked your girlfriend, huh? What would you do?" Jaemin has no idea where this is coming from, but it's coming from somewhere and it felt really urgent for him to get it out. Admittedly, he does not regret it one bit as judging by the way Jeno's brows knit together, eyes gloss over and lips start to trembe, he's just pushed the right buttons. Experimentally, Jaemin grinds his hips upwards, causing his confined cock to press against Jeno's who is not able to admit that he finds himself in a similarly aroused state. Instinctively, Jaemin's hands find Jeno's waist. The older gasps at the action, not really sure how to think with his brain when his balls tell him to let Jaemin do his thing, whatever that might include.
"This is still about her, right?" Jeno still manages to ask, breath shaking as Jaemin goes to open both of their jeans.
"Sure. This is just like after Chenle's party, pretend this is about football," Jaemin states, mind clouded with thoughts about his best friend and you, and how he would turn your sex life upside down.
"S-seriously, though," Jeno's voice shakes as he gets to enjoy the way Jaemin's hand sneaks into his boxers to finally touch him. "Are you thinking about her?"
"All the time," Jaemin admits truthfully, not breaking the eye contact Jeno's created. He wraps a hand around Jeno's length, his other hand pulling the older's pants down enough too free his throbbing errection that weights hotly in his hand. "I think about her lips and how perfectly they'd stretch around my cock."
"Shit," Jeno moans, eyes rolling back as Jaemin starts stroking him. "Keep going."
"I need to see her gagging, tears rolling down her cheeks." Jaemin moans at the thought, "touch me."
Jeno hastily complies, freeing Jaemin's hardness as well, not ever having realized how much he's missed the girth of it against his palm. At this, Jaemin groans deeply, hips bucking immediately as he sets a steady pace stroking Jeno as well.
"Her legs too, especially in those skirts. Makes me wonder about the kind of ass she hides from me," Jaemin continues and Jeno whines at the his words, jealousy bubbling up inside him to only fuel his need to cum.
"H-her ass is-" Jeno halts with a moan as Jaemin swipes his thumb over Jeno's tip, "tight."
"Fuck." Jaemin throws his head back as Jeno picks up the pace of stroking him. "Tell me about her cunt."
Jeno's thoughts are all over the place, remembering every single time he's had the chance to stuff you full of his cock, burying himself balls deep inside of you, and it honestly makes his head spin even more. "So wet 'n perfect," he babbles, eyes lidded as he presses his forehead against Jaemin's, "she takes me so well every time, like the good slut she is."
"Mhm, that's what I thought. Your little whore, our little whore- fuck, go faster," Jaemin moans as Jeno does exactly what he's told, the older's sounds turning Jaemin on beyond belief, as well as the thoughts about you that make him want to show up at your workplace unannounced and have his way with you in front of all of your colleagues to show them who you belong to. Involuntary though unmistakably, your name slips from Jaemin's lips.
"Guys...?"
In shock, Jeno's hand stops its movements, but Jaemin is quick to react as he grabs the older's jaw. "Keep going. Fucking look at her and keep going, puppy."
Jeno's wide eyes stay fixated on your shocked face as you analyze the scene unfolding in front of your eyes, though he complies and keeps jerking his best friend off. Jaemin knows you heard him moan your name, though he throws it in two more times to really be sure, knee pushing upwards against Jeno's balls to get him to the edge faster. "Tell her I want her," Jaemin commands, eyes trained on you as well, not missing the way your thighs press together at the sight in front of you.
"W-we want you," Jeno whines, hips stuttering before he releases with a groan, cum splashing out all over Jaemin's shirt almost up to his chin as he guides Jeno through his gut-wrenching high that's quickly followed by syllables of your name. It doesn't take long for Jaemin after that as he sends you a wink before asking: "Do you want it on your face, puppy?"
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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sunshine
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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{ 1:15 am. }
you laid on your bed crying because of the recent fight with your parents. it's not your first one, and definitely not the last but still it hurts you everytime. suddenly you feel your phone buzzed with new message, you unlocked it and saw that it was beomgyu.
gyu♡: come outside
you:  ???
gyu♡: I'm at your front door c'mere
you didn't question him anymore and quickly grab your hoodie from the chair and put it on you. it was kinda hard but you managed to sneak out of your room silently and get out of the door.
"gyu, what the hell are you doing here at this hour?" you asked him while wrapping your arms around yourself cause you shivered from the colder temperature. "I came to see you" he smiled at you. "wait, did you cry? your eyes so red that they can light the street" he chuckled but still worried about you. you shoved his shoulder snorted at his stupid joke. "kinda...again fought with parents, nothing new" he took your hand in his and squeezed it lightly to show his support "it will be okay. do you wanna come grab some shitty burgers in that cafe at the end of the street to lighten your mood up?" you nodded and smiled at him. he always had his ways of showing you his support and make things better "thank you, gyu"
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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My comfort is you;
Words count: 658
Pairing: bf!beomgyu x gn!reader
Genre: fluff
a/n: the last talk x today episode with Beomgyu inspired me on writing something sweet and cute about Gyu at camping. I hope that this work won't disappoint you!! <3
Song recommendation: Cafuné - Tek it
cr. for img. - @ filmsoftxt
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You sat on the passenger seat and Beomgyu on the driver's, your boyfriend recently give you an idea for mini vacation - camping. He wanted try it so bad since he was in a high-school and now with you he finally make his dream comes true.
You on the other hand just want to spend more time with him and relax from college. 
"How long does it take to drive here?" You asked Beomgyu while connecting your phone to the Bluetooth speaker of his car. "Like 3-4 hour, you can rest a bit, if you want," he smiled softly. 
You two woke up quite early to pack everything, so you can be in camp before noon. 
You listened to music half of the way and the other half you slept because the atmosphere was so calm. Beomgyu softly shakes you by the shoulder once you arrive at the camp.
It's a really nice place that are divided in a private zones with a tent and campfire, there are also garlands around and you think that it would be really cozy at night. 
Once you bring all of your things in here you plop on the grass and lay for a few minutes under a warm sun until some shadow appears before you.
"Are you gonna lay here all day?" Beomgyu chuckled watching you from above. "Yeah, it's nice here, you should rest too after a long drive!"
That's how the two of you end up dozens off for a few hours.
Later when you woke up it was almost dinner time so you started preparing food to cook on the bonfire. You make a ramyeon and Beomgyu cooking meat as always cause no one can cook it better than him.
"Gyu, when will the meat be ready? I can't wait anymore, the smell will kill my stomach" you whined.
"It's almost done, be patient, girl" he laughed softly, "I guess this piece should be okay, try it" Beomgyu feeds you and you think you might cry from how delicious it is.
Your dinner was full of the chatting between you two about everything, both of you curious about many things so you always had topics to discuss.
Soon it became darker, you scooted closer to your boyfriend and he played some music through the Bluetooth speaker that set a really cozy and comfortable vibes.
"Y/n..do you like it here?" Beomgyu suddenly asked you, looking at your linked hands. "Yes, Beomie  I've never been camping but it's really fun, especially with you" he smiled at your reply and kissed your cheek.
"I'm glad that you enjoy it" you looked at him for a second "What about you? I know that you dreamed about it for a really long time."
"Since we arrived here everything I feel is happiness.  I'm really happy that I got this opportunity,  but I'm even happier that I did it with you. It will be my most treasured memory." He smiled at you, while your cheeks became warmer from his words. "You know...I might said it a lot but I really love you Y/n, you are the most precious person that I met in my life and I'm really glad that you are here with me" he leaned and planted a kiss on your cheek, then on your nose, and other cheek, you giggled at his actions but then you feel one of Beomgyu's hands on your jawline and he kissed your lips abruptly. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but a really soft and sensual one, where you can feel all his love to you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you felt his smile through the kiss. 
Once you pulled back you giggled at each other "So..do you wanna watch the stars?" You asked him "I'm already seeing one" he smirked and pecked your lips one more time before taking your hand and guiding you to your watching spot.
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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Hey Emo Boy!
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☆ Song suggestion: Emo Boy, Ayesha Erotica ☆
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Summary:
He worked at the Spencer’s store in the mall— you worked at the Claire’s store right in front. What can you say? Match made in heaven. 
bassist!Beomgyu x fem! reader
Genre: opposites attract trope, friends to lovers, fluff, smut
Word count: 9.4K
Warnings: mc dresses like a BIMBO and we love it! mc gets stereotyped a bit, lots of piercings, needles, (bg gets pierced lol) mc has a smiley and nipple piercings, bg has snake bites and a tongue piercing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, cursing, Chaeryeong is a real one
Smut warnings: dom!bg, sub!mc, slight possessiveness, teasing, making out, thigh riding, dirty talk, dumbification, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nipple play, bg loves mc’s boobs, oral, (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, bulge kink, scratching, unprotected sex, breeding kink(?), creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)
Notes: im sorry, but Beomgyu’s long hair era has me in such a chokehold that I think I passed out and wrote this. I’d like to think that in the concert their opener was “Destroya” by mcr (assuming that its their song in this universe) And why yes, I do have a list of other songs they would perform, you can totally go ask me this on my blog! 
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Your friends always said you had an obscure taste in men— you always laughed in their face in response. 
But as you stand behind the Claire’s register, ready to clock back onto a never-ending ten-hour shift of piercing little girl’s ears unprofessionally, you can’t help but be reminded of the thought. 
There he is again, your brain tells you, an involuntary reaction as you pause your actions to glance out into the empty mall; just in time to watch the cute boy with snake bite piercings that works at the store across from you rush inside. 
Honestly, whose idea was it to put a Spencer’s in front of a Claire’s store? It was a mistake waiting to happen— but you indulged in it nonetheless, the convenient placement allowing you to catch a glimpse of one of the workers that captivated you. You’re not sure of his name, and you’re not sure you can bring yourself to talk to him— you’ve never gone into a Spencer's, and plan to keep it that way. Honestly, his whole style couldn’t be more opposite than yours, but there was something about him that made you curious, eager for more. 
“Are you staring at that emo boy again?” You jump at the sound of your coworkers voice, startled to find her standing behind you, a knowing look on her face as she shakes her head. “Girl, just go fuck him already.” 
“Shut up!” You balk, glancing around the store in a panic to see if there were any customers around— it was empty, considering it was a Thursday evening, “and no, I wasn’t.” 
“Don’t lie to me,” Chaeryeong says, checking her acrylics absentmindedly, leaning against the counter with a sigh, “you’ve been staring at him all week. You should totally go talk to him.” 
“You think? I don’t know if he’d be into someone like me though,” you look down at your outfit, the complete opposite of what the man in the store across from you sported— while his outfit consisted of dark, edgy outfits, yours were nothing but feminine and cute. 
“Why not? You’re hot,” Chaeryeong’s words bring an uncontrollable swell of confidence to you, and you allow yourself to bask in the compliments that she continues to goad onto you.
“He’s lucky you tone down your fits to suit this place, cause if you didn’t,” she whistles, exaggerating her reaction as you slap her shoulder jokingly, “man, we’d be swamped with customers.” 
“You really think I should try to talk to him?” You ask, biting your lip nervously at the thought; what if he was an asshole? What if he thought you were some superficial bimbo? Was he one of those creeps that thought they were better than women? What if he was gay?
“Stop overthinking things, I can see the questions from here,” Chaeryeong bats at the air mockingly, laughing at the petulant look you give her. Her teasing is interrupted by the motion sensor bell going off, and the two of you are quick to put on your customer-service personas as you turn to face the new customers with a happy smile. 
“Next chance you get, go up and talk to him. Don’t overthink and it’ll go great, I promise,” Chaeryeong whispers to you, leaving you on your own as the mother calls her over to ask a question about the piercings. 
Glancing back at the Spencer’s across from you, you can’t help but let out a sigh of desperation— you really hope she’s right. 
⤬⤬⤬
You decide to make your move on a Friday night. 
It was one of your few days off, and according to Chaeryeong, the cute boy was working tonight. 
You had been quick to throw together a cute outfit as you made your way to the mall— to pay a visit to your friend and your crush. 
The store was just as you had expected— low lights, fandom merch, and a fuck ton of adult products. You were caught off guard by the sight of it all, the stark contrast of the store and your outfit leaving you to stick out uncomfortably— not that anyone seemed to care, thankfully. You were quick to find yourself browsing through the jewelry, uninterested in everything else as you found a couple of cute earrings and necklaces to buy. 
To your disappointment, you had yet to see the cute boy that you had been crushing on; your heart shattered at the thought of you missing your opportunity to talk to him. Yet, just as you were being checked out by another worker, your luck seemed to turn around. 
“Hey, you doing anything tomorrow night?” Your head snapped up in the middle of you taking out your card, surprised to find the cashier asking you this question so suddenly. Behind him, you can see the cute emo boy emerge from the employee room. 
“Uhm, why do you ask?” You try to prolong the conversation as you watch the cute boy make his way up to the counter, your heart beating faster at the thought of you finally getting to talk to him. 
“There’s this band playing at a nearby venue,” the cashier, Yeonjun, his name tag reads, hands you a flyer, your eyes scanning the words as you take in the information printed onto it, “you should definitely go. I’m in it, actually.”
“Yeonjun, you shouldn’t be promoting that while working.” The new voice has you looking up from your flyer quicker than you can process— and to your delight, the cute emo boy stands behind your cashier with a frown on his face. 
Yeonjun narrows his eyes, turning around to look at his coworker. Shaking his head, he clasps the boy on the shoulder as he shakes him around, the boy unfazed as he allows him to do so. 
“Shut up, I think she’d love to go,” sending you a smile, he winks, and you can only manage to smile shakily in return, “he’s a part of it too; the bassist.”
You hope your sudden interest isn’t obvious, but you can’t help the way you perk up at Yeonjun’s words, staring back down at the flyer in your hands with a newfound eagerness— hey, if the music was bad, the worst that could happen is you getting the ick and moving on. 
“I’ll try my best to go,” you say, trying to play it cool as you smile at them; you briefly glance at the cute boy’s name tag— Beomgyu, it reads— and stuff the flyer in your purse, enjoying the way they (mostly Yeonjun— okay, only Yeonjun) seem to beam at your words. 
“Cool, we’ll try to spot you in the crowd,” Yeonjun jokes, handing you your bag filled with jewelry as he not-so-subtly scans your outfit, “from the looks of it, it won’t be too hard.”
Man, was it just you or was it hot in this store? You don’t think you could handle all this attention at once, the sight of Beomgyu giving you a once over making you weak in the knees as you feebly thanked them, promptly scurrying out of the store as you tried to ignore the way you didn’t talk to him— baby steps, you reassure yourself. 
You’re practically stumbling into Claire’s as if it were a safe space; and if Chaeryeong was there, then it was. You briefly scan the store before you spot her red hair, running up to her excitedly as you shove the crumpled banner in her face. 
“Seriously?” Is all she can muster to say, staring at the flyer blankly before she looks back at you, quirking a brow as if to challenge your decisions, “I told you to go fuck him, not support his fleeting dreams.” 
“I know…” you pout, deflating at her disapproving look, “but I don’t think it would be that easy! He seems like a cold guy, like you have to get to know him before he lowers his guard…” 
“Are you listening to yourself?” She says, checking herself in the mirror as she begins to restock the phone cases, “I worry about you sometimes.” 
“Come on, hear me out!” You whine, ignoring the dirty looks the moms in the store give you, clearly displeased with your revealing outfit, (cons to living in such a conservative town, you suppose) “you can’t deny that he’s cute.” 
“Yeah, but the most I’d do is hookup like, once,” she says, glancing around the store to make sure no customers were around to hear her, “you’re trying to play the long game.” 
“Am not!” You say, ignoring the way your body flushes hotly at the accusation— okay, you’re pretty down bad for him; so what?
“But uhm, Chae…” you don’t bother to finish your sentence, trailing off softly as you find yourself too nervous to ask. But with one glance back at you, she knows exactly what you’re trying to say— she sighs. 
“You want me to go with you, don't you?” 
Sending her your most convincing smile, you bat your lashes in hopes to convince her, clinging onto her as you let out a small “pleeeease?” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at your behavior before she scoffs, finally giving in as she goes back to restocking items. 
“You’re insufferable.” 
⤬⤬⤬
To say that you’re surprised by the attendance would be an understatement. 
The place is packed— it was hard enough to get tickets to the venue, and your efforts to buy tickets early were not in vain, despite Chaeryeong's teasing. You’re pulling her along eagerly, fingers laced tightly with hers as you squeeze your way towards the front of the stage; you’re able to sneak through a good amount of people, but aren’t able to get that close to the stage, to your disappointment. There’s no place to sit, much to Chaeryeong’s annoyance, but you’d like to blame her onslaught of complaints on the heels that she chose to wear instead.
“What kind of band even are they,” Chaeryeong mutters, scanning the crowd as she takes in the way the two of you accidentally stand out— the mass of black clashing with your sparkling outfits, “did you even listen to their music beforehand?” 
“To like, one song, yeah,” you say, unashamed as you ignore the look a person casts at you, clearly listening in to your conversations, “I dunno, I think they’re just a rock band. I think you’ll like them.”
“Probably not, this isn’t really my taste,” she says, throwing a dirty look to the person that pushes roughly past her to try to get closer to the stage, “you’re just lucky I love you.” 
But before you can ridicule Chaeryeong for her statement, you finally see the lights dimming down, left in the dark as the announcer finally calls the band onto the stage— Tomorrow by Together. 
The crowd goes wild by the announcement, jumping excitedly and jostling you and your friend around as they all try to record the members and get a good angle. You had no idea they were this popular— hell, if you were them, you’d quit everything to pursue music by now. The crowd is chanting their names eagerly, and you’re left in awe as they all take their positions behind each instrument. 
There are two guitarists— you’re able to recognize Yeonjun as one of them. You looked up the rest of the members on your way here, and by process of elimination, the other man who was currently picking up his guitar would be Hueningkai. 
The cute guy with dimples sends a heart to the crowd before going to where his keyboard is placed; that’s Soobin, if you remember right. Leaving you with Taehyun, who doesn’t bother to wave to the crowd as he picks up his drumsticks eagerly, shifting comfortably on the seat as he waits patiently for the show to start. 
And lastly, Beomgyu enters the stage and beelines to the bass— you’re surprised to find that he’s dyed his hair, the highlights getting hit by the stage lights brilliantly as he adjusts his earpiece, waiting patiently for the leader— Soobin, you think it is— to start the performance. 
You can barely hear what they’re saying over the excited cheers around you, and you can feel Chaeryeong gripping onto your arm in fear that you’ll be lost in the crowd. Glancing behind her, you send her an excited smile, unable to contain your laugh as you take in her nervous expression. 
“You’re insane!” 
“What?” You yell back, leaning in as the crowd begins to cheer louder— probably in response to something they said. You glance back at the stage in curiosity, but turn back to check on your friend as she leans back into your ear, repeating the words as she rolls her eyes at your amused reaction. 
“Do you want to leave then?” 
“And leave you here alone? No way—!” Her words are cut off by the clicks of drumsticks, and the crowd is quick to push each other around as the music begins to fill the venue, successfully taking your attention off your friend as your head snaps back to the stage. 
You can still feel the grip of Chaeryeong’s acrylics as you keep your fingers laced tightly with hers, but you quickly find yourself moving with the crowd as you watch the five on stage perform— and to your surprise, you find yourself enjoying the music a lot more than you anticipated. 
It’s just as you expected— rock, emo, or punk-rock if you remember right. But you can’t take your eyes off the way they all seem to be so immersed in the music, moving around just as much as the crowd before them. You’re surprised to find that each one of the members has a mic, and as you watch Beomgyu, you find yourself eager to hear his voice. 
He’s mesmerizing, a thin sheen of sweat coating him as his bangs stick to his forehead, a hand coming up to quickly adjust his earpiece before he’s back on the bass, fingers moving so swiftly you think you might just be hypnotized. You can feel your heart beating faster as you watch him step closer to his mic, eyes scanning the crowd absentmindedly as he waits for his part; they stop for a moment, and you swear that he spots you in the crowd. 
His brows furrow as he begins to sing, and you swear that you might just feel weak in the knees. His voice is deep and raspy as he sings his part, and you can see Chaeryeong laughing at your reaction in the corner of your eye— man, this venue suddenly seemed a lot more stuffy than it was three seconds ago. 
And despite Chaeryeong’s conditions that you wouldn’t stay for the whole show, you do just that— your feet ache, and your makeup has been sweated off, but you don’t regret a single thing as you stumble out of the venue, your hearing muffled and your throat sore from cheering. 
“That wasn’t so bad,” you smile, glancing at your friend as you take in her distraught state— her hair was frizzy, and her makeup was also sweated off, but unlike you, she didn’t seem too pleased about it.
“For you maybe,” she grumbles, clutching onto you as she grumbles about how sore her feet are under her breath, “At least you had your eye candy to look at.” 
“Yeah, well thanks for coming with me Chae,” you say, hugging her tightly despite her protests, “I’ll get that girl from Auntie Anne's number for you as repayment.”
“No, let me do that myself,” she says, pushing herself off you as she tries to hide her fond smile, “but what I really want right now is a drink. And to rest.” 
“Back to my place?” You say, already knowing her answer as you finally find your car, flopping on the seats with rough sighs as you finally allow your feet to rest. 
“Yes please.” 
Chaeryeong allows you to ramble about your thoughts on the band all the way home. 
⤬⤬⤬
The next time you see Beomgyu is on your break. 
It’s a Tuesday afternoon and the mall is practically empty— considering that school has already started and all the kids are locked up in school. You’re sitting at the corner table of Auntie Anne’s, chewing mindlessly on your pretzel nuggets as you text Chaeryeong and tease her for chickening out on talking to her crush— in the end, she was no better than you. She isn’t working today, which is probably why time is passing so slowly— even your break seems to stretch by slowly. 
It isn’t until you hear the sound of a chair scraping along the tiles that you look up from your phone. 
Oh god, you’re already getting nervous— because Beomgyu’s a table away from you, staring down at his phone as well with his headphones on. You’re trying hard not to stare, so you resort to panicking and text Chaeryeong about your situation, to which she can only threaten you to talk to him.
Chae <3
Swear to god if you don’t talk to him ill do it for u
And it wont be pretty 
What if he doesn’t wanna talk? You text her, anxiously biting at your lip as you watch the message bubble up, her typing as slow as ever as you glance back up at Beomgyu, then back at the clock, calculating just how long you have before you need to leave.
Chae <3
Talk to him about his band duh
Everyone loves talking about themselves
Now shoo
You brightened up at that— of course! Who wouldn’t want to hear about themselves? And with this conversation started, you picked up your cup of pretzels, taking a deep breath before you found the courage to walk up to him. 
“Do you mind if I sit here?” You mentally facepalm at how stupid you sound, but you’ll let it slide as Beomgyu looks up at you, taking a second to pause his music before he gives you a blank look, eyebrows raising slightly as he finally seems tor recognizes you.
“Sure, I guess,” is all he says, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed at his response; or rather, his lack of interest. He gives you a curious look, and you know that he’s waiting for you to explain why the hell you decided to interrupt him during his break— you’re nervous, fidgeting in your seat as you smile sweetly at him. (God, he was intimidating up close.)
“I went to your uh, concert last weekend,” you hold back a smile as you watch the way he perks up at that, a lot more interested in what you have to say as he leans forward.
“Really? Didn’t think you’d be into that type of stuff,” he says, scanning your outfit teasingly, looking at your hot pink hello kitty zip up, to the cute jeans that had hearts on the back pockets; but mostly, your face said it all— that you weren’t one to listen to that kind of music at all. 
“Well you’d be surprised,” you say, pouting slightly at his words. You’re fidgeting with your necklace, and you pretend to remain oblivious to the way Beomgyu watches your every movement, eyes stuck to the way the cute pendant falls perfectly on your chest when you let it go, “you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, or whatever they say.” 
Beomgyu lets out a laugh at that, and you can’t hide the way that it catches you off guard. It seems genuine, and his eyes are crinkling cutely as he smiles, shaking his head in amusement at your words. It’s almost contagious, and you can’t help the way you crack a small smile as well. 
“You got me there,”  he says, glancing back at the clock, prompting you to do so as well— you shudder, seeing that you have five minutes left. “Well what’d you think?” 
Narrowing your eyes, you take a second before you respond; you can tell he’s waiting for you to gush over him. 
“It was okay, I guess,” you say, shrugging your shoulders as you pop one of your pretzels in your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick away the sugar left on your lips, and your stomach swirls in excitement as Beomgyu follows your movements, “Yeonjun’s voice was really nice.”  
“Really?” Beomgyu taunts you, a knowing smirk growing on his face as he realizes what you’re doing. 
“Anything else?”
“Hmmm… oh! The other guitarist was super cute,” you shamelessly say, popping another pretzel in your mouth as you hum in appreciation of its taste, “come to think of it, so was the drummer— oh, so was the guy on the keys.” 
“Interesting,” He says mockingly, leaning in as he tilts his head questioningly, tongue prodding at his lip rings as he asks, “what’d you think of the bassist?” 
“Hmm? The bassist?” You question, huffing in disappointment as you realized you’ve finished all your pretzels. Rubbing your fingertips to rid the sugary dust, you can’t help yourself as you pop a finger into your mouth, licking off the residue as you finally stand, surprised to find that you need to clock back on. Beomgyu watches you, unable to take his eyes off the way your tongue swirls across your thumb, your necklace hanging teasingly as you reach to zip your jacket back up. Eyes snapping back to yours, you send him a small smile, expression earnest as you say, 
“Oh, I wouldn't know— I’m not into that type of stuff.” 
⤬⤬⤬
You’re eager to tell Chaeryeong about your interaction the first chance you get. 
“Ouuu you’re such a tease! You’ve definitely got him interested now,” she squeals, taking your hands in hers as she jumps in excitement. You’re about to go on your break, heart beating with excitement at the thought of getting to see Beomgyu again— your shifts are usually aligned, so who’s to say your breaks couldn’t be as well?
“You think I might see him today?” You voice your thoughts out loud, glancing back at the Spencer’s across from you— it’s dim, and you can barely make out anything in there, but you swore you saw the familiar head of long shaggy hair pass by the entrance.
“You just might,” your friend says, grinning at you as she encourages you to take your break— you linger at the entrance in hopes that you might spot Beomgyu taking his break as well. Making your way back to Auntie Anne’s (it was the only place where you could get your food quick enough) you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to look like a lost puppy patiently waiting for its owner. 
By the time you had ten minutes left to your break, you had lost hope, your eyes glued to your phone and music blasting in your ears as you texted your friends. Laughing at one of their responses to your crush, you rolled your eyes, reaching to grab another pretzel nugget— only to grab at the air stupidly. 
You frown as you look up from your phone, only to be met with the sight of Beomgyu sitting comfortably across from you, your cup of pretzels in his hands— how long had he been sitting there?
“How long have you been there?” You’re quick to echo your own mind, reaching out to take back your pretzels from the boy. He shrugs, glancing at the clock, only to leave you without a proper answer. 
“Not that long,” is all he gives you, enjoying the way you genuinely want to know. You’re silent, and you watch as he becomes slightly nervous, eyes avoiding yours as he reaches for his pocket— he wants to tell you something. 
“I actually wanted to uhm— give you these,” slowly, he slides something across the table, and it takes you a second to realize what it is, “They’re tickets to our next show. You really seemed to enjoy the other one, so I wanted to invite you to this one— with better seats, too.”
Your mouth is hanging at the two VIP tickets, unable to say anything before his words click in your mind. 
“Wait— you saw me? At the last show?” You watch as he flushes at your words, but honestly, you’re the one that should be embarrassed— you were kinda hoping he hadn’t noticed your excited self back at his concert. 
“Well, it was hard to not notice you,” his excuse is pointless as he looks back up at you, at the cute flustered expression you sport—it somehow manages to bring about a small wave of confidence as he adds, “it was cute to see you enjoy yourself.” 
“Oh,” you know you sound lame, but you can’t help it— not with the way his narrowed eyes stare teasingly at you, head cocked to the side as he waits for you to say something— but you don’t, staring down at your pretzels shyly as you listen to him chuckle; oh, where did your confidence from last time go?
“Wait, I have to ask,” you say, the question you thought of a few days ago popping back into your mind, “how come you work here if your band is so popular? You seem to be doing well.”
“Ah, that,” Beomgyu seems to become shy at your question, rubbing at his nape nervously as his eyes flit down onto the table, “well, we aren’t signed under a label yet… so it’s not really a stable income; this job is more of a side hustle just in case.” 
“Ah, I see,” you say, wondering just how much he makes from playing in venues— considering that he has to be working here, (which you aren’t complaining about, honestly) it must not be enough. 
“Well, I can’t wait for this next show,” you beam at him, taking the two tickets as you glance at the time, sad to see that your thirty minutes are up. “Come pay me a visit sometime, I work right across from you, you know.” 
You’re sure it’s unlikely, but as you walk back to your workplace, the stand of cute Squishmallows greeting you as you go to clock back in, you’re unable to contain your bright grin of excitement as you flash Chaeryeong the two VIP tickets. (much to her dismay.)
⤬⤬⤬
Beomgyu is making his way to your store. 
“The emo boy is coming over,” Chaeryeong tells you, not giving you much of a warning before she dips to the back— to give you a moment, she tells you shamelessly— leaving you alone and vulnerable to the sight of the cute boy appearing out of nowhere. 
It had been almost a week since you had asked him to visit you— ever since then, the two of you would try to time your breaks together, spending the time talking about music and growing closer; you even got to exchange numbers. 
But you hadn’t been expecting him to take your last comment seriously, especially not before the day you would be seeing him perform. But here he is, walking up to your store with other shopping bags in his hands, dressed in his usual dark attire. His eyes met yours, and you swore you saw a small amused twitch in his lips. 
“Didn’t think you’d actually step a foot in here,” you say, holding back a smile at the way he clashes against the cute store— is this what you looked like in his environment? The thought was enough to give away your amusement, despite the cold front you tried to display.
“Never judge a book by its cover,” he says, echoing your words as he watches you grin shamelessly, his eyes latching onto a piece of jewelry that caught his eye. “Nice smiley, did you get it done here?”
Scoffing, you can’t stop the laugh that escapes at his ridiculous words. 
“As if, I wouldn’t trust this place to do a regular ear-piercing,” you say, looking back at your piercing station in dismay. 
Beomgyu says nothing, even when you throw him a questioned look. 
“How much for the piercings?” 
“What— You can’t be serious,” you say, gawking at him in disbelief as you look at his ears, “you have multiple piercings! You should know better than to get it done here!” 
Beomgyu shrugs, looking at himself in the mirror as he looks at the said piercings— brushing his hair back, he reaches up to rub at the only empty spot on his lobes.
“Yeah, but I don’t have my upper lobes done yet.” 
“Beomgyu,” you whine, unaware of the way his name rolls off your tongue so nicely. He shivers, eyes darkening as he looks back up at you, much more determined to do it now that you’re acting like this. “I don’t want your ears to get fucked up on my behalf—your fans would hate me…” 
“Well, the customer is always right,” he grins, knowing just how much the two of you hated that phrase, “and the customer wants this pretty worker to do his upper lobes— with these hello kitty earrings as well.” 
Oh, he’s good, you hate how easily you’re going to give in to him; you don’t think you can put up much of a fight anymore, at least not with the way he’s looking at you and complimenting you. 
“Go sit in the chair,” you sigh, seemingly defeated as you follow him to the piercing station. In the corner of your eye, you watch Chaeryeong slowly peek through the door, only to see the scene before her and quickly hide back inside. 
“Just know that I’m not the one that usually does piercings,” you add, snickering at the way Beomgyu frowns at your confession. “Yeah, I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen to me.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be happy to give you more experience,” he says, and you’re thankful that you’re able to hide behind him because holy fuck, you’re probably a mess right now. Hesitantly, you reach out to his hair— it’s in the way, you think to yourself, unsure if he’ll be bothered if you touch it.
“You can move my hair if you need to,” he says, as though he were able to read your every thought. You jump at his sudden comment, clearing your throat as you nod, before realizing that you’re standing behind him, and that he probably can’t see you right now. So you simply mutter an “okay”, hoping that he can’t see how shaky your hands are as you reach out to move his hair. 
Softly, you reach out to his shoulder, brushing back his hair as you inspect his pierced ears— you ignore the way your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin, and you especially try to ignore the way he shudders at your actions. You take your time to mark where you’ll put each piercing, and after double-checking with Beomgyu, you finally get ready to pierce his ears. 
Reluctantly, you put on gloves, slowly going through all the sanitation steps as you walk Beomgyu through it and tell him how to care for his piercing— you’re sure he doesn’t need to hear this, honestly— yet it’s still your job to say it.
“Take a deep breath in,” it’s accidental, but you’re using your customer service on him, and you’re sure he notices; that is, if the small quirk of his lips is any giveaway. Slowly, you adjust the piercing gun, taking a deep breath in yourself in hopes that you won’t fuck up; it’s irrational, but you can’t help but be afraid. But you pull through, and as your fingers squeeze together, you watch the needle go through his ear. 
“There’s one,” you say reassuringly, pulling away to check your work. All he manages is a small wince, which is a nice contrast to the usual wailing and annoyed moms that you get on the daily. Turning to the other side, you find yourself no longer nervous, pulling back his hair without a second thought as you start sanitizing the new side as well. You barely hesitate before you’re passing the needle through his ear, smiling at the way he only flinches at the feeling. 
“Good job!” You say automatically, unable to stop yourself as the customer service mode had taken over you completely. But it doesn’t seem to phase Beomgyu, because he doesn’t comment on it even as you take him to the register to pay.
“I look pretty, don’t I?” He asks, tilting his head in the mirror to look at his new hello kitty piercings. It’s a stark difference to the rest of his jewelry, but you can’t help but agree wholeheartedly with him.
“They’re super cute, I’m kinda jealous,” you say, much to Beomgyu’s surprise. 
“Well, maybe your friend could pierce them,” he says, glancing behind you, and at the employee area, “if she finally decides to come out.”
Beomgyu is very annoying— it’s a realization that dawns on you as he sports a smug look, clearly pleased with the way he manages to fluster you with just a few words. But even as he bids you goodbye, reminding you to come to his show tomorrow, you can’t deny the way your heart saddens to watch him go so soon. 
Oh, you’re down bad. 
⤬⤬⤬
The new venue is much nicer than the last one— it catches you off guard by how nice it is. (It really makes you wonder how much money they each contribute to afford such places)
Chaeryeong is trailing behind you reluctantly, her cute heels from last time swapped out for much more comfortable sneakers. Though she complained to you about going to such a rough event again, you could tell that she was much more pleased when the sight of assigned seats greeted her— not that it wasn’t stated on the ticket, you had muttered to her sarcastically.
You could tell that you were getting strange looks from others— after all, you decided not to conform to their style. It wasn’t really you, so why do it? So instead of trying something new, you decided to stick to your cute pink outfits, dressed in a denim skirt that honestly, wasn’t covering much, the same hello kitty jacket you wore when you first talked to Beomgyu being sported once more as you layer it over a thin tank top, your cute Demonia camel-311’s adding an extra bit of height as you make it all the way down to the VIP section— front and center. 
You’re practically buzzing in your seat from excitement as you wait for the concert to begin, eagerly chatting with Chaeryeong who could only do so much to calm you down. After what seems like an eternity of waiting, the audience lights finally dim, and you’re left in anticipation for the band to come out. 
It still feels like you’re listening to them for the first time again as you watch them perform, your new closeness to the stage allowing them all to spot you easily— they all end up sending Beomgyu knowing looks at some point, unbeknownst to you. 
And as you finally make eye contact with Beomgyu, you grin at him excitedly, waving at him as he nods in recognition, a smile breaking across his face as he sees you. And though you finally look away from him, much more distracted by Soobin as he begins to sing, he can’t help but watch you, mesmerized as you seem to be enjoying yourself wholly. (Though he couldn’t say the same for your friend, who mostly seemed to be there for emotional support as she helped steady you.) 
You just seemed so happy. And it made Beomgyu’s heart jump excitedly at the thought of it being because of his band. You were even singing along, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but watch you fondly, shamelessly staring at you even when it was his turn to sing and your gaze turned back to him. He met your eyes eagerly, and you almost felt as though the rest of the crowd disappeared as he sang, raspy voice soothing to your ears as you tried to push away the incessant fluttering of your heart. 
You stared at him even when it was no longer his part, watching in awe as he played the bass like it was second nature. Meeting his eyes once more, you couldn’t help the way your eyes flit to his ears, the flash of the jewelry bringing your attention to the cute hello kitty studs he wore; you pointed at your ears eagerly, and he seems to realize what you’re referring to as he sweeps his hair back, allowing you to take in the piercings properly; they’re healing surprisingly well.
The concert seems to pass by much quicker than you’d like— and you’re left with nothing but the muffled feeling in your ears and the dwindling adrenaline as you reluctantly make your way back to the entrance. You almost make it out, but you’re stopped last minute as a security guard approaches the two of you, asking you for to confirm your identities to him. 
“Beomgyu would like to see you,” he says, pointing at you as he reads your ID. You’re surprised, blinking owlishly as you take in his words, unsure if he’s messing with you as you say, 
“… Me?”
“Yes, if you could please follow me,” the security guard waits for you to come after him, but he seems to notice the way you hesitate and turn back to your friend with uncertainty. “She can wait in the VIP lobby if she’d like, but I was told to bring you specifically backstage.” 
It seems like something clicks for Chaeryeong as she lets out a small “ahhh,” in understanding, pushing you towards the security guard as you turn to her with wide eyes, surprised at her actions. 
“Go ahead! The VIP lounge has drinks,” she encourages you, rolling her eyes with every protest and “are you sure?” that leaves your mouth. “Yes I’m sure! Now go!” 
Reluctantly, you leave your friend behind in the VIP lounge, watching her get comfortable at the bar as she asks the bartender for a drink. The backstage area is a lot quieter than you’d thought it would be— it’s practically silent the moment you enter the area, the boys all probably tired and ready to go home after such a performance. But you’re in awe nonetheless, looking from door to door as the security guard finally guides you to the last one— Beomgyu’s dressing room, it seems. 
Knocking on it tentatively, you anxiously wait for Beomgyu to open up as the guard stands behind you; you really hope he wasn't messing with you.
“Hmm? Who is it?” You can hear the grogginess in Beomgyu’s voice as the door barely opens, his head slowly peeking out before it's met with the sight of your sheepish smile. 
“Ah, you can come in,” he gestures to you, suddenly much more awake as he glances back to the security guard, “you’re good to go, thank you.”
You’re restless as the door is shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the small dressing room as you patiently wait for Beomgyu to tell you why he brought you here. 
“___,” you look at him, surprised to find your name slipping from his lips so easily. He’s smiling, suddenly much more energized as he tells you, “we just signed with a record label. We’re set.”
You’re elated, his joy contagious as you take a second to process his words— he laughs, and you can’t help but share his laugh as you run to him, enveloping him into a tight hug that he gladly accepts, the smoky scent of his cologne lingering despite his change of clothes. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but it just feels right as you mutter a “congratulations” into the fabric of his shirt, nuzzling into his neck with a smile stuck on your face.
Pulling away from him, you’re reluctant to leave this small space that the two of you created; you can tell he feels the same, hands lingering at your forearms as he keeps you close, eyes fond as he watches the way your eyes sparkle under the lights of the room. 
“Does this mean you’re quitting your job at the mall?” You joke, cracking a smile that Beomgyu sees past— you don’t think you’re ready to watch him leave just yet. 
“Yes,” he says, honest words leaving him as he tugs you in closer, unable to look away from your glossy lips as he finds himself leaning in closer, his voice much quieter as he says, “but I’ll still visit now and then.” 
It’s not the perfectly romantic and corny line you were expecting, but it’s enough to prompt you to crash your lips with his, the weeks of tension and feelings that had built up between the two of you finally crashing down as you allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of him. He’s quick to kiss you back, the feeling rough and new as his snake bite piercings press against your flesh, a small sigh escaping you as you feel him nip at your lips. 
His arms have encased your waist and pulled you in tight, your body pressed flush against his and your hands splayed across his chest as he practically forces you to lean against him, his fingertips itching to explore your body further.
“Fuck, I couldn’t stand seeing you out there in your cute little skirt,” he groans, slotting a thigh between yours as he runs his fingers along the hem of your skirt, “made me scared someone else would try to make a move on you.”
“No, wore this just for you,” you confess, breathless and whiny as you grind on his thigh, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to hide just how aroused you were. He laughs at that, the sound airy and mocking as he guides your hips on his thigh, pushing you down on it more as he takes in the sounds that tumble messily from your lips. 
Placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you yelp at the way he angles your hips, clenching his thigh and bouncing it under you as your sensitive clit rubs and bumps against him messily. You’re practically delirious as you reach a hand down to move your panties aside, the stimulation not enough for you as you finally allow your bare cunt to come in contact with him.
“I can’t believe this,” he groans, watching the way a wet spot slowly begins to form over the place you continue to grind against, “my stupid girl, all fucked up over my thigh? Poor baby won’t be able to take my cock, then.” 
“No, I can take it,” you protest, your mind reeling from the pleasure that Beomgyu gives you— you can feel your stomach tightening with every clench of his thigh, the muscle pressing against you nicely, “Please, I can take it, please…” 
“You really think you can?” He asks, leaning to trail kisses down the column of your neck, “why don’t you come on my thigh, then we’ll see if you really can.” 
You’re nodding desperately for his approval, shirt clenched tightly in your fists as you work yourself up to your high, the feeling of his muscles pressing against you bringing you closer much quicker. With a particularly harsh bounce of his thigh, your mouth falls open, Beomgyu’s grip on your hips ruthless as he forces you down on him, guiding you through it as slowly come down from the blissful feeling. 
“Good girl, following my orders like that,” he mumbles, enjoying the way your shaking hands grip onto him helplessly. Gently, he guides you to the couch, allowing you to fall on it as he slowly begins to undress you, your grabby hands pulling at his shirt until he’s throwing it over his head. 
“Oh god—" he holds back a groan as he takes off your bra, suddenly finding it much harder to contain himself at the cute sight, his hands immediately finding their place on your breasts as he gulps. 
“Baby, I had no idea you pierced these,” he says, pretty fingers playing with the piercings on your nipples as you whine at the stimulation. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? They’re so pretty…” 
Beomgyu is mesmerized as you lay before him, a needy and panting mess as you let him play with your tits crudely, allowing him to pinch and roll the pierced nipples until they’re hardened. Slowly, he leans down to wrap his mouth around one of them, tongue darting out to lick at them as you gasp, back arching as you realize—
“Fuck, is your tongue pierced?” You gasp, watching the way Beomgyu sits up with a mischievous grin on his face. 
“Looks like we’re all full of surprises here,” he says, trailing kisses down your body before he finally stops at your navel, glancing back up as he says, “I’ve always heard it feels better when you get eaten out by someone with a piercing— wanna test it out?”
You’re ready to say every curse word in existence as Beomgyu dives down without a second thought, warm mouth wrapping around you and the feeling of his tongue— paired by his piercing— sends you into an overstimulated mess, still having yet to recover as you thread your hands into his hair, weakly attempting to pull him away from you before he’s pinning your hips down, his tongue insistent as he flicks it across your clit ruthlessly. 
“Beomgyu…” you whine out, body too sensitive to stay still, yet still begging for more as you thread your fingers tighter into his scalp, tugging harshly— the sting brings out a crude groan from him.
Slowly, you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance, an airy chuckle leaving him as he takes in the way you’re dripping wet for him. Pulling away, he watches as two of his fingers slide in easily, opening up inside you as he slowly begins to stretch them out inside you, biting at his lip at the way you clench around him. 
Leaning back down, he lays his tongue flat on your clit, enjoying the way you shake under him as he sets a brutally slow pace for you. 
“Enjoying yourself?” He taunts, unable to stop himself as his free hand reaches up to play with your nipples, still amazed at the cute piercings that had been hiding from him all along. You’re nodding along, though he’s not entirely sure you processed what he just asked from the way you’re so lost in the pleasure— which Beomgyu is more than happy to deliver more of. His tongue flicking across your clit paired with the quickened pace of his fingers is what sets you off, the stimulation too much for you the moment Beomgyu begins to tug at your nipple piercings teasingly. 
“Beomgyu please,” you plead, using your fingers that were threaded in his hair to pull him up, your lips briefly meeting his as you take in the taste of yourself— his tongue darts into your mouth as you allow him to coat your tongue with your own release, the teasing bites that he leaves you with as he pulls away making you whine stupidly. 
“So fucking pretty,” he mutters under his breath, staring down at your fucked out form as he finally releases himself from his restraints, his cock painfully hard and leaking as he kneels over you, “Wanna make you all mine. Keep you to myself.”
His words are an alluring promise as he slowly pushes into you, leaving kisses and bites all along your collarbones as you do the same to him. You sigh as he bottoms out, hips meeting yours as he takes your hand to place it on your abdomen.
“Do you feel that?” He asks, pressing his hand on top of yours as he slowly pulls out, a broken moan leaving you as you realize that fuck, you can. With every slow thrust you can feel every vein, his hand that remains on top of yours adding onto the pleasure as you feel him through your stomach as well.
“God, you make it so hard for me to hold myself back,” he groans, closing his eyes as you clench tightly around him, the warm feeling of your walls wrapping around him pushes him to his limits, the sounds that leave your lips only adding on to the mess.
“Don’t,” you breathe out, eyes dazed as they meet Beomgyu’s, “Don’t hold back— please.”
With one final look in your eyes, Beomgyu shakes his head, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before he’s taking your leg, bringing it up to press against your chest as it allows him to fuck you in a deeper angle. His pace is ruthless as he gives in to your request, the combination of his length and the stretch of his cock leaving your mind empty in a matter of seconds. 
“Fuck, be quiet baby,” he grits out, slapping a hand over your mouth in panic as you let out a particularly loud moan, the reminder of his other bandmates being nearby bringing about a rush of adrenaline— he didn’t want anyone else to hear the sounds you made. 
Your muffled whimpers and whines still managed to leak through Beomgyu’s hand, your body getting pressed down into the couch with the force that Beomgyu fucks you with. Your hands scrambled to find someplace to steady yourself on, quickly finding purchase on Beomgyu’s shoulders, your nails raking down his back accidentally as his cock pressed against a sensitive spot— you were only egged on by the surprised moan he let out by that. 
“God, you feel so…” he hisses as your nails dig into his skin, the stinging feeling making him pry your hands away from him as he pins them down, your fingers lacing with his immediately as he uses this to fuck into you harder. His lips crash against yours the moment you begin to get too loud again, and you accept the distraction gratefully as you relish in the feeling of his piercings against your skin. 
This new angle allowed for his hips to crash against your clit, the rough hits making you closer to your end as you clenched tightly around him, the feeling enough of a warning for Beomgyu as he continued to fuck you ruthlessly. Your nails dig into his hands as he begins to hit your sensitive spot repeatedly, your high crashing down on you unexpectedly as you clamp down on Beomgyu’s cock. 
He helps you ride through it, slowing his pace into nothing but a grind as he presses his hips against yours, placing relentless kisses on your lips as soft praise leaves him, the words not quite reaching you as you come down from your high. 
“Gyu,” you whimper, and Beomgyu thinks he might just come then and there, “keep going.” 
“More?” He asks, incredulous at your request, “fuck, you still want more?”
Nodding, you squeeze his hands as you innocently say, “want you to finish inside me.” 
God, you have no idea what you do to him. Your words hit him like a freight train as he feels his cock twitch inside you, shaking his head in disbelief at your request— how could you say something like that so sweetly? It’s like you were doing it on purpose. 
“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up until you can only think of me,” he says, his words drawing out a whimper from you as he begins to move once more, no longer hesitant as he watches the way your face contorts from the pleasure and over stimulation. Your words are all he can think of as he watches you try your best to be quiet, biting at your lips and failing as he presses his cock deep inside you, every drag and thrust he delivers making your eyes roll back in bliss. 
You might even be drooling at this point— but you don’t really care, at least not with the way Beomgyu is fucking you so nicely. You can feel his pace stutter as he lets out soft moans, hands untangling from yours as he sits up, placing his hands on your hips and angling them up as he uses you to his liking, the new angle making you slap your hands over your mouth— you’re sure something humiliating would have left your mouth if you hadn’t done so. 
His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips as his brows furrow, concentrated on chasing pleasure as his eyes flit back to you— to your watery eyes, your hands clasped over your mouth panic despite the sounds that leak through, and your breasts that bounce back and forth with each thrust. 
He can tell that a new orgasm is beginning to build in you, and he’s determined to make the coil snap as he reaches a hand down to rub at your clit, leaning over to whisper nothing but the filthiest things imaginable, a grin overtaking his face as he feels the way you’re quick to catch up to him, your trembling figure telling him all he needs to know.
“Come on darling, don’t you want me to fill you up? You’d look so pretty with my cum dripping between your thighs, I’ll make sure everyone will know you’re mine. Go ahead, come on my cock.” He’s rambling at this point, but it’s enough to set you off as you cum on him once more, the pathetic whine of his name enough to set him off as he follows close behind you, his thrusts sloppy and rough before he stills, filling you to the brim as your hands find themselves running down his back once more, the sting of pain mixing into his pleasure as his head drops onto your neck, the heavy feeling of his breaths against your neck the only thing that grounds you from your high. 
He’s careful as he maneuvers the two of you to lay down, having yet to pull out of you as the slow trickle of his cum escaping from you makes you shiver. Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he pulls you in for another slow kiss, unable to stop the smile that spreads across his lips, the two of you turning into a giddy mess in each other’s arms.
“I was waiting for the day I could kiss you like this,” he mumbles against your lips, the confession making you push against his chest in embarrassment, allowing him to pull you back in with a laugh. The two of you stay like that for a moment longer, and you actually think you could fall asleep like this—
“Oh my god, Chaeryeong!”
At the call of your friend’s name, Beomgyu groans, throwing an arm over his eyes as he asks, “she’s still here?”
“Yes!” You can tell that Beomgyu doesn’t understand why you’re panicking, but you feel absolutely terrible that you made her wait outside in the lobby while you— you…
“Gyu, I gotta go,” you whine, trying to pry yourself from his grip as you look around his dressing room, spotting a rag and a spray bottle filled with water that you could use to clean yourself up. “I have the day off tomorrow, just come over then.” 
“Can I? You promise?” Is all he says, unable to let you go as you try to rush to clean up. Turning back to him, you adjust your shirt, laughing at the way he seems to be eager for your response. 
“Promise,” you say, leaning down to give him a final goodbye kiss; it’s enticing when he tries to lure you in with more, but you know better as you collect your things, bidding him a final goodbye as you exit his room, allowing yourself to be escorted by security guards as you do the walk of shame. (Shame was actually not enough to describe what you felt— what you felt was much deeper, the realization that everyone probably heard you leaving you unable to look up from the floor.)
Yet even as you’re reuniting with Chaeryeong with a sheepish smile, you can’t help but feel the way your heart flutters at the feeling of your phone being flooded with messages.
Gyu:
Send me ur address pls
Would it be weird if I just come over rn
Say no so I can come over
You shook your head as you read through the messages, not noticing the way Chaeryeong peeked over teasingly.
“See, I told you— you were playing the long game.”
Yet this time, you couldn’t really deny her— because maybe you really were all along.  
⤬⤬⤬
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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Hey Emo Boy!
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☆ Song suggestion: Emo Boy, Ayesha Erotica ☆
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Summary:
He worked at the Spencer’s store in the mall— you worked at the Claire’s store right in front. What can you say? Match made in heaven. 
bassist!Beomgyu x fem! reader
Genre: opposites attract trope, friends to lovers, fluff, smut
Word count: 9.4K
Warnings: mc dresses like a BIMBO and we love it! mc gets stereotyped a bit, lots of piercings, needles, (bg gets pierced lol) mc has a smiley and nipple piercings, bg has snake bites and a tongue piercing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, cursing, Chaeryeong is a real one
Smut warnings: dom!bg, sub!mc, slight possessiveness, teasing, making out, thigh riding, dirty talk, dumbification, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nipple play, bg loves mc’s boobs, oral, (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, bulge kink, scratching, unprotected sex, breeding kink(?), creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)
Notes: im sorry, but Beomgyu’s long hair era has me in such a chokehold that I think I passed out and wrote this. I’d like to think that in the concert their opener was “Destroya” by mcr (assuming that its their song in this universe) And why yes, I do have a list of other songs they would perform, you can totally go ask me this on my blog! 
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Your friends always said you had an obscure taste in men— you always laughed in their face in response. 
But as you stand behind the Claire’s register, ready to clock back onto a never-ending ten-hour shift of piercing little girl’s ears unprofessionally, you can’t help but be reminded of the thought. 
There he is again, your brain tells you, an involuntary reaction as you pause your actions to glance out into the empty mall; just in time to watch the cute boy with snake bite piercings that works at the store across from you rush inside. 
Honestly, whose idea was it to put a Spencer’s in front of a Claire’s store? It was a mistake waiting to happen— but you indulged in it nonetheless, the convenient placement allowing you to catch a glimpse of one of the workers that captivated you. You’re not sure of his name, and you’re not sure you can bring yourself to talk to him— you’ve never gone into a Spencer's, and plan to keep it that way. Honestly, his whole style couldn’t be more opposite than yours, but there was something about him that made you curious, eager for more. 
“Are you staring at that emo boy again?” You jump at the sound of your coworkers voice, startled to find her standing behind you, a knowing look on her face as she shakes her head. “Girl, just go fuck him already.” 
“Shut up!” You balk, glancing around the store in a panic to see if there were any customers around— it was empty, considering it was a Thursday evening, “and no, I wasn’t.” 
“Don’t lie to me,” Chaeryeong says, checking her acrylics absentmindedly, leaning against the counter with a sigh, “you’ve been staring at him all week. You should totally go talk to him.” 
“You think? I don’t know if he’d be into someone like me though,” you look down at your outfit, the complete opposite of what the man in the store across from you sported— while his outfit consisted of dark, edgy outfits, yours were nothing but feminine and cute. 
“Why not? You’re hot,” Chaeryeong’s words bring an uncontrollable swell of confidence to you, and you allow yourself to bask in the compliments that she continues to goad onto you.
“He’s lucky you tone down your fits to suit this place, cause if you didn’t,” she whistles, exaggerating her reaction as you slap her shoulder jokingly, “man, we’d be swamped with customers.” 
“You really think I should try to talk to him?” You ask, biting your lip nervously at the thought; what if he was an asshole? What if he thought you were some superficial bimbo? Was he one of those creeps that thought they were better than women? What if he was gay?
“Stop overthinking things, I can see the questions from here,” Chaeryeong bats at the air mockingly, laughing at the petulant look you give her. Her teasing is interrupted by the motion sensor bell going off, and the two of you are quick to put on your customer-service personas as you turn to face the new customers with a happy smile. 
“Next chance you get, go up and talk to him. Don’t overthink and it’ll go great, I promise,” Chaeryeong whispers to you, leaving you on your own as the mother calls her over to ask a question about the piercings. 
Glancing back at the Spencer’s across from you, you can’t help but let out a sigh of desperation— you really hope she’s right. 
⤬⤬⤬
You decide to make your move on a Friday night. 
It was one of your few days off, and according to Chaeryeong, the cute boy was working tonight. 
You had been quick to throw together a cute outfit as you made your way to the mall— to pay a visit to your friend and your crush. 
The store was just as you had expected— low lights, fandom merch, and a fuck ton of adult products. You were caught off guard by the sight of it all, the stark contrast of the store and your outfit leaving you to stick out uncomfortably— not that anyone seemed to care, thankfully. You were quick to find yourself browsing through the jewelry, uninterested in everything else as you found a couple of cute earrings and necklaces to buy. 
To your disappointment, you had yet to see the cute boy that you had been crushing on; your heart shattered at the thought of you missing your opportunity to talk to him. Yet, just as you were being checked out by another worker, your luck seemed to turn around. 
“Hey, you doing anything tomorrow night?” Your head snapped up in the middle of you taking out your card, surprised to find the cashier asking you this question so suddenly. Behind him, you can see the cute emo boy emerge from the employee room. 
“Uhm, why do you ask?” You try to prolong the conversation as you watch the cute boy make his way up to the counter, your heart beating faster at the thought of you finally getting to talk to him. 
“There’s this band playing at a nearby venue,” the cashier, Yeonjun, his name tag reads, hands you a flyer, your eyes scanning the words as you take in the information printed onto it, “you should definitely go. I’m in it, actually.”
“Yeonjun, you shouldn’t be promoting that while working.” The new voice has you looking up from your flyer quicker than you can process— and to your delight, the cute emo boy stands behind your cashier with a frown on his face. 
Yeonjun narrows his eyes, turning around to look at his coworker. Shaking his head, he clasps the boy on the shoulder as he shakes him around, the boy unfazed as he allows him to do so. 
“Shut up, I think she’d love to go,” sending you a smile, he winks, and you can only manage to smile shakily in return, “he’s a part of it too; the bassist.”
You hope your sudden interest isn’t obvious, but you can’t help the way you perk up at Yeonjun’s words, staring back down at the flyer in your hands with a newfound eagerness— hey, if the music was bad, the worst that could happen is you getting the ick and moving on. 
“I’ll try my best to go,” you say, trying to play it cool as you smile at them; you briefly glance at the cute boy’s name tag— Beomgyu, it reads— and stuff the flyer in your purse, enjoying the way they (mostly Yeonjun— okay, only Yeonjun) seem to beam at your words. 
“Cool, we’ll try to spot you in the crowd,” Yeonjun jokes, handing you your bag filled with jewelry as he not-so-subtly scans your outfit, “from the looks of it, it won’t be too hard.”
Man, was it just you or was it hot in this store? You don’t think you could handle all this attention at once, the sight of Beomgyu giving you a once over making you weak in the knees as you feebly thanked them, promptly scurrying out of the store as you tried to ignore the way you didn’t talk to him— baby steps, you reassure yourself. 
You’re practically stumbling into Claire’s as if it were a safe space; and if Chaeryeong was there, then it was. You briefly scan the store before you spot her red hair, running up to her excitedly as you shove the crumpled banner in her face. 
“Seriously?” Is all she can muster to say, staring at the flyer blankly before she looks back at you, quirking a brow as if to challenge your decisions, “I told you to go fuck him, not support his fleeting dreams.” 
“I know…” you pout, deflating at her disapproving look, “but I don’t think it would be that easy! He seems like a cold guy, like you have to get to know him before he lowers his guard…” 
“Are you listening to yourself?” She says, checking herself in the mirror as she begins to restock the phone cases, “I worry about you sometimes.” 
“Come on, hear me out!” You whine, ignoring the dirty looks the moms in the store give you, clearly displeased with your revealing outfit, (cons to living in such a conservative town, you suppose) “you can’t deny that he’s cute.” 
“Yeah, but the most I’d do is hookup like, once,” she says, glancing around the store to make sure no customers were around to hear her, “you’re trying to play the long game.” 
“Am not!” You say, ignoring the way your body flushes hotly at the accusation— okay, you’re pretty down bad for him; so what?
“But uhm, Chae…” you don’t bother to finish your sentence, trailing off softly as you find yourself too nervous to ask. But with one glance back at you, she knows exactly what you’re trying to say— she sighs. 
“You want me to go with you, don't you?” 
Sending her your most convincing smile, you bat your lashes in hopes to convince her, clinging onto her as you let out a small “pleeeease?” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at your behavior before she scoffs, finally giving in as she goes back to restocking items. 
“You’re insufferable.” 
⤬⤬⤬
To say that you’re surprised by the attendance would be an understatement. 
The place is packed— it was hard enough to get tickets to the venue, and your efforts to buy tickets early were not in vain, despite Chaeryeong's teasing. You’re pulling her along eagerly, fingers laced tightly with hers as you squeeze your way towards the front of the stage; you’re able to sneak through a good amount of people, but aren’t able to get that close to the stage, to your disappointment. There’s no place to sit, much to Chaeryeong’s annoyance, but you’d like to blame her onslaught of complaints on the heels that she chose to wear instead.
“What kind of band even are they,” Chaeryeong mutters, scanning the crowd as she takes in the way the two of you accidentally stand out— the mass of black clashing with your sparkling outfits, “did you even listen to their music beforehand?” 
“To like, one song, yeah,” you say, unashamed as you ignore the look a person casts at you, clearly listening in to your conversations, “I dunno, I think they’re just a rock band. I think you’ll like them.”
“Probably not, this isn’t really my taste,” she says, throwing a dirty look to the person that pushes roughly past her to try to get closer to the stage, “you’re just lucky I love you.” 
But before you can ridicule Chaeryeong for her statement, you finally see the lights dimming down, left in the dark as the announcer finally calls the band onto the stage— Tomorrow by Together. 
The crowd goes wild by the announcement, jumping excitedly and jostling you and your friend around as they all try to record the members and get a good angle. You had no idea they were this popular— hell, if you were them, you’d quit everything to pursue music by now. The crowd is chanting their names eagerly, and you’re left in awe as they all take their positions behind each instrument. 
There are two guitarists— you’re able to recognize Yeonjun as one of them. You looked up the rest of the members on your way here, and by process of elimination, the other man who was currently picking up his guitar would be Hueningkai. 
The cute guy with dimples sends a heart to the crowd before going to where his keyboard is placed; that’s Soobin, if you remember right. Leaving you with Taehyun, who doesn’t bother to wave to the crowd as he picks up his drumsticks eagerly, shifting comfortably on the seat as he waits patiently for the show to start. 
And lastly, Beomgyu enters the stage and beelines to the bass— you’re surprised to find that he’s dyed his hair, the highlights getting hit by the stage lights brilliantly as he adjusts his earpiece, waiting patiently for the leader— Soobin, you think it is— to start the performance. 
You can barely hear what they’re saying over the excited cheers around you, and you can feel Chaeryeong gripping onto your arm in fear that you’ll be lost in the crowd. Glancing behind her, you send her an excited smile, unable to contain your laugh as you take in her nervous expression. 
“You’re insane!” 
“What?” You yell back, leaning in as the crowd begins to cheer louder— probably in response to something they said. You glance back at the stage in curiosity, but turn back to check on your friend as she leans back into your ear, repeating the words as she rolls her eyes at your amused reaction. 
“Do you want to leave then?” 
“And leave you here alone? No way—!” Her words are cut off by the clicks of drumsticks, and the crowd is quick to push each other around as the music begins to fill the venue, successfully taking your attention off your friend as your head snaps back to the stage. 
You can still feel the grip of Chaeryeong’s acrylics as you keep your fingers laced tightly with hers, but you quickly find yourself moving with the crowd as you watch the five on stage perform— and to your surprise, you find yourself enjoying the music a lot more than you anticipated. 
It’s just as you expected— rock, emo, or punk-rock if you remember right. But you can’t take your eyes off the way they all seem to be so immersed in the music, moving around just as much as the crowd before them. You’re surprised to find that each one of the members has a mic, and as you watch Beomgyu, you find yourself eager to hear his voice. 
He’s mesmerizing, a thin sheen of sweat coating him as his bangs stick to his forehead, a hand coming up to quickly adjust his earpiece before he’s back on the bass, fingers moving so swiftly you think you might just be hypnotized. You can feel your heart beating faster as you watch him step closer to his mic, eyes scanning the crowd absentmindedly as he waits for his part; they stop for a moment, and you swear that he spots you in the crowd. 
His brows furrow as he begins to sing, and you swear that you might just feel weak in the knees. His voice is deep and raspy as he sings his part, and you can see Chaeryeong laughing at your reaction in the corner of your eye— man, this venue suddenly seemed a lot more stuffy than it was three seconds ago. 
And despite Chaeryeong’s conditions that you wouldn’t stay for the whole show, you do just that— your feet ache, and your makeup has been sweated off, but you don’t regret a single thing as you stumble out of the venue, your hearing muffled and your throat sore from cheering. 
“That wasn’t so bad,” you smile, glancing at your friend as you take in her distraught state— her hair was frizzy, and her makeup was also sweated off, but unlike you, she didn’t seem too pleased about it.
“For you maybe,” she grumbles, clutching onto you as she grumbles about how sore her feet are under her breath, “At least you had your eye candy to look at.” 
“Yeah, well thanks for coming with me Chae,” you say, hugging her tightly despite her protests, “I’ll get that girl from Auntie Anne's number for you as repayment.”
“No, let me do that myself,” she says, pushing herself off you as she tries to hide her fond smile, “but what I really want right now is a drink. And to rest.” 
“Back to my place?” You say, already knowing her answer as you finally find your car, flopping on the seats with rough sighs as you finally allow your feet to rest. 
“Yes please.” 
Chaeryeong allows you to ramble about your thoughts on the band all the way home. 
⤬⤬⤬
The next time you see Beomgyu is on your break. 
It’s a Tuesday afternoon and the mall is practically empty— considering that school has already started and all the kids are locked up in school. You’re sitting at the corner table of Auntie Anne’s, chewing mindlessly on your pretzel nuggets as you text Chaeryeong and tease her for chickening out on talking to her crush— in the end, she was no better than you. She isn’t working today, which is probably why time is passing so slowly— even your break seems to stretch by slowly. 
It isn’t until you hear the sound of a chair scraping along the tiles that you look up from your phone. 
Oh god, you’re already getting nervous— because Beomgyu’s a table away from you, staring down at his phone as well with his headphones on. You’re trying hard not to stare, so you resort to panicking and text Chaeryeong about your situation, to which she can only threaten you to talk to him.
Chae <3
Swear to god if you don’t talk to him ill do it for u
And it wont be pretty 
What if he doesn’t wanna talk? You text her, anxiously biting at your lip as you watch the message bubble up, her typing as slow as ever as you glance back up at Beomgyu, then back at the clock, calculating just how long you have before you need to leave.
Chae <3
Talk to him about his band duh
Everyone loves talking about themselves
Now shoo
You brightened up at that— of course! Who wouldn’t want to hear about themselves? And with this conversation started, you picked up your cup of pretzels, taking a deep breath before you found the courage to walk up to him. 
“Do you mind if I sit here?” You mentally facepalm at how stupid you sound, but you’ll let it slide as Beomgyu looks up at you, taking a second to pause his music before he gives you a blank look, eyebrows raising slightly as he finally seems tor recognizes you.
“Sure, I guess,” is all he says, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed at his response; or rather, his lack of interest. He gives you a curious look, and you know that he’s waiting for you to explain why the hell you decided to interrupt him during his break— you’re nervous, fidgeting in your seat as you smile sweetly at him. (God, he was intimidating up close.)
“I went to your uh, concert last weekend,” you hold back a smile as you watch the way he perks up at that, a lot more interested in what you have to say as he leans forward.
“Really? Didn’t think you’d be into that type of stuff,” he says, scanning your outfit teasingly, looking at your hot pink hello kitty zip up, to the cute jeans that had hearts on the back pockets; but mostly, your face said it all— that you weren’t one to listen to that kind of music at all. 
“Well you’d be surprised,” you say, pouting slightly at his words. You’re fidgeting with your necklace, and you pretend to remain oblivious to the way Beomgyu watches your every movement, eyes stuck to the way the cute pendant falls perfectly on your chest when you let it go, “you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, or whatever they say.” 
Beomgyu lets out a laugh at that, and you can’t hide the way that it catches you off guard. It seems genuine, and his eyes are crinkling cutely as he smiles, shaking his head in amusement at your words. It’s almost contagious, and you can’t help the way you crack a small smile as well. 
“You got me there,”  he says, glancing back at the clock, prompting you to do so as well— you shudder, seeing that you have five minutes left. “Well what’d you think?” 
Narrowing your eyes, you take a second before you respond; you can tell he’s waiting for you to gush over him. 
“It was okay, I guess,” you say, shrugging your shoulders as you pop one of your pretzels in your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick away the sugar left on your lips, and your stomach swirls in excitement as Beomgyu follows your movements, “Yeonjun’s voice was really nice.”  
“Really?” Beomgyu taunts you, a knowing smirk growing on his face as he realizes what you’re doing. 
“Anything else?”
“Hmmm… oh! The other guitarist was super cute,” you shamelessly say, popping another pretzel in your mouth as you hum in appreciation of its taste, “come to think of it, so was the drummer— oh, so was the guy on the keys.” 
“Interesting,” He says mockingly, leaning in as he tilts his head questioningly, tongue prodding at his lip rings as he asks, “what’d you think of the bassist?” 
“Hmm? The bassist?” You question, huffing in disappointment as you realized you’ve finished all your pretzels. Rubbing your fingertips to rid the sugary dust, you can’t help yourself as you pop a finger into your mouth, licking off the residue as you finally stand, surprised to find that you need to clock back on. Beomgyu watches you, unable to take his eyes off the way your tongue swirls across your thumb, your necklace hanging teasingly as you reach to zip your jacket back up. Eyes snapping back to yours, you send him a small smile, expression earnest as you say, 
“Oh, I wouldn't know— I’m not into that type of stuff.” 
⤬⤬⤬
You’re eager to tell Chaeryeong about your interaction the first chance you get. 
“Ouuu you’re such a tease! You’ve definitely got him interested now,” she squeals, taking your hands in hers as she jumps in excitement. You’re about to go on your break, heart beating with excitement at the thought of getting to see Beomgyu again— your shifts are usually aligned, so who’s to say your breaks couldn’t be as well?
“You think I might see him today?” You voice your thoughts out loud, glancing back at the Spencer’s across from you— it’s dim, and you can barely make out anything in there, but you swore you saw the familiar head of long shaggy hair pass by the entrance.
“You just might,” your friend says, grinning at you as she encourages you to take your break— you linger at the entrance in hopes that you might spot Beomgyu taking his break as well. Making your way back to Auntie Anne’s (it was the only place where you could get your food quick enough) you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to look like a lost puppy patiently waiting for its owner. 
By the time you had ten minutes left to your break, you had lost hope, your eyes glued to your phone and music blasting in your ears as you texted your friends. Laughing at one of their responses to your crush, you rolled your eyes, reaching to grab another pretzel nugget— only to grab at the air stupidly. 
You frown as you look up from your phone, only to be met with the sight of Beomgyu sitting comfortably across from you, your cup of pretzels in his hands— how long had he been sitting there?
“How long have you been there?” You’re quick to echo your own mind, reaching out to take back your pretzels from the boy. He shrugs, glancing at the clock, only to leave you without a proper answer. 
“Not that long,” is all he gives you, enjoying the way you genuinely want to know. You’re silent, and you watch as he becomes slightly nervous, eyes avoiding yours as he reaches for his pocket— he wants to tell you something. 
“I actually wanted to uhm— give you these,” slowly, he slides something across the table, and it takes you a second to realize what it is, “They’re tickets to our next show. You really seemed to enjoy the other one, so I wanted to invite you to this one— with better seats, too.”
Your mouth is hanging at the two VIP tickets, unable to say anything before his words click in your mind. 
“Wait— you saw me? At the last show?” You watch as he flushes at your words, but honestly, you’re the one that should be embarrassed— you were kinda hoping he hadn’t noticed your excited self back at his concert. 
“Well, it was hard to not notice you,” his excuse is pointless as he looks back up at you, at the cute flustered expression you sport—it somehow manages to bring about a small wave of confidence as he adds, “it was cute to see you enjoy yourself.” 
“Oh,” you know you sound lame, but you can’t help it— not with the way his narrowed eyes stare teasingly at you, head cocked to the side as he waits for you to say something— but you don’t, staring down at your pretzels shyly as you listen to him chuckle; oh, where did your confidence from last time go?
“Wait, I have to ask,” you say, the question you thought of a few days ago popping back into your mind, “how come you work here if your band is so popular? You seem to be doing well.”
“Ah, that,” Beomgyu seems to become shy at your question, rubbing at his nape nervously as his eyes flit down onto the table, “well, we aren’t signed under a label yet… so it’s not really a stable income; this job is more of a side hustle just in case.” 
“Ah, I see,” you say, wondering just how much he makes from playing in venues— considering that he has to be working here, (which you aren’t complaining about, honestly) it must not be enough. 
“Well, I can’t wait for this next show,” you beam at him, taking the two tickets as you glance at the time, sad to see that your thirty minutes are up. “Come pay me a visit sometime, I work right across from you, you know.” 
You’re sure it’s unlikely, but as you walk back to your workplace, the stand of cute Squishmallows greeting you as you go to clock back in, you’re unable to contain your bright grin of excitement as you flash Chaeryeong the two VIP tickets. (much to her dismay.)
⤬⤬⤬
Beomgyu is making his way to your store. 
“The emo boy is coming over,” Chaeryeong tells you, not giving you much of a warning before she dips to the back— to give you a moment, she tells you shamelessly— leaving you alone and vulnerable to the sight of the cute boy appearing out of nowhere. 
It had been almost a week since you had asked him to visit you— ever since then, the two of you would try to time your breaks together, spending the time talking about music and growing closer; you even got to exchange numbers. 
But you hadn’t been expecting him to take your last comment seriously, especially not before the day you would be seeing him perform. But here he is, walking up to your store with other shopping bags in his hands, dressed in his usual dark attire. His eyes met yours, and you swore you saw a small amused twitch in his lips. 
“Didn’t think you’d actually step a foot in here,” you say, holding back a smile at the way he clashes against the cute store— is this what you looked like in his environment? The thought was enough to give away your amusement, despite the cold front you tried to display.
“Never judge a book by its cover,” he says, echoing your words as he watches you grin shamelessly, his eyes latching onto a piece of jewelry that caught his eye. “Nice smiley, did you get it done here?”
Scoffing, you can’t stop the laugh that escapes at his ridiculous words. 
“As if, I wouldn’t trust this place to do a regular ear-piercing,” you say, looking back at your piercing station in dismay. 
Beomgyu says nothing, even when you throw him a questioned look. 
“How much for the piercings?” 
“What— You can’t be serious,” you say, gawking at him in disbelief as you look at his ears, “you have multiple piercings! You should know better than to get it done here!” 
Beomgyu shrugs, looking at himself in the mirror as he looks at the said piercings— brushing his hair back, he reaches up to rub at the only empty spot on his lobes.
“Yeah, but I don’t have my upper lobes done yet.” 
“Beomgyu,” you whine, unaware of the way his name rolls off your tongue so nicely. He shivers, eyes darkening as he looks back up at you, much more determined to do it now that you’re acting like this. “I don’t want your ears to get fucked up on my behalf—your fans would hate me…” 
“Well, the customer is always right,” he grins, knowing just how much the two of you hated that phrase, “and the customer wants this pretty worker to do his upper lobes— with these hello kitty earrings as well.” 
Oh, he’s good, you hate how easily you’re going to give in to him; you don’t think you can put up much of a fight anymore, at least not with the way he’s looking at you and complimenting you. 
“Go sit in the chair,” you sigh, seemingly defeated as you follow him to the piercing station. In the corner of your eye, you watch Chaeryeong slowly peek through the door, only to see the scene before her and quickly hide back inside. 
“Just know that I’m not the one that usually does piercings,” you add, snickering at the way Beomgyu frowns at your confession. “Yeah, I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen to me.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be happy to give you more experience,” he says, and you’re thankful that you’re able to hide behind him because holy fuck, you’re probably a mess right now. Hesitantly, you reach out to his hair— it’s in the way, you think to yourself, unsure if he’ll be bothered if you touch it.
“You can move my hair if you need to,” he says, as though he were able to read your every thought. You jump at his sudden comment, clearing your throat as you nod, before realizing that you’re standing behind him, and that he probably can’t see you right now. So you simply mutter an “okay”, hoping that he can’t see how shaky your hands are as you reach out to move his hair. 
Softly, you reach out to his shoulder, brushing back his hair as you inspect his pierced ears— you ignore the way your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin, and you especially try to ignore the way he shudders at your actions. You take your time to mark where you’ll put each piercing, and after double-checking with Beomgyu, you finally get ready to pierce his ears. 
Reluctantly, you put on gloves, slowly going through all the sanitation steps as you walk Beomgyu through it and tell him how to care for his piercing— you’re sure he doesn’t need to hear this, honestly— yet it’s still your job to say it.
“Take a deep breath in,” it’s accidental, but you’re using your customer service on him, and you’re sure he notices; that is, if the small quirk of his lips is any giveaway. Slowly, you adjust the piercing gun, taking a deep breath in yourself in hopes that you won’t fuck up; it’s irrational, but you can’t help but be afraid. But you pull through, and as your fingers squeeze together, you watch the needle go through his ear. 
“There’s one,” you say reassuringly, pulling away to check your work. All he manages is a small wince, which is a nice contrast to the usual wailing and annoyed moms that you get on the daily. Turning to the other side, you find yourself no longer nervous, pulling back his hair without a second thought as you start sanitizing the new side as well. You barely hesitate before you’re passing the needle through his ear, smiling at the way he only flinches at the feeling. 
“Good job!” You say automatically, unable to stop yourself as the customer service mode had taken over you completely. But it doesn’t seem to phase Beomgyu, because he doesn’t comment on it even as you take him to the register to pay.
“I look pretty, don’t I?” He asks, tilting his head in the mirror to look at his new hello kitty piercings. It’s a stark difference to the rest of his jewelry, but you can’t help but agree wholeheartedly with him.
“They’re super cute, I’m kinda jealous,” you say, much to Beomgyu’s surprise. 
“Well, maybe your friend could pierce them,” he says, glancing behind you, and at the employee area, “if she finally decides to come out.”
Beomgyu is very annoying— it’s a realization that dawns on you as he sports a smug look, clearly pleased with the way he manages to fluster you with just a few words. But even as he bids you goodbye, reminding you to come to his show tomorrow, you can’t deny the way your heart saddens to watch him go so soon. 
Oh, you’re down bad. 
⤬⤬⤬
The new venue is much nicer than the last one— it catches you off guard by how nice it is. (It really makes you wonder how much money they each contribute to afford such places)
Chaeryeong is trailing behind you reluctantly, her cute heels from last time swapped out for much more comfortable sneakers. Though she complained to you about going to such a rough event again, you could tell that she was much more pleased when the sight of assigned seats greeted her— not that it wasn’t stated on the ticket, you had muttered to her sarcastically.
You could tell that you were getting strange looks from others— after all, you decided not to conform to their style. It wasn’t really you, so why do it? So instead of trying something new, you decided to stick to your cute pink outfits, dressed in a denim skirt that honestly, wasn’t covering much, the same hello kitty jacket you wore when you first talked to Beomgyu being sported once more as you layer it over a thin tank top, your cute Demonia camel-311’s adding an extra bit of height as you make it all the way down to the VIP section— front and center. 
You’re practically buzzing in your seat from excitement as you wait for the concert to begin, eagerly chatting with Chaeryeong who could only do so much to calm you down. After what seems like an eternity of waiting, the audience lights finally dim, and you’re left in anticipation for the band to come out. 
It still feels like you’re listening to them for the first time again as you watch them perform, your new closeness to the stage allowing them all to spot you easily— they all end up sending Beomgyu knowing looks at some point, unbeknownst to you. 
And as you finally make eye contact with Beomgyu, you grin at him excitedly, waving at him as he nods in recognition, a smile breaking across his face as he sees you. And though you finally look away from him, much more distracted by Soobin as he begins to sing, he can’t help but watch you, mesmerized as you seem to be enjoying yourself wholly. (Though he couldn’t say the same for your friend, who mostly seemed to be there for emotional support as she helped steady you.) 
You just seemed so happy. And it made Beomgyu’s heart jump excitedly at the thought of it being because of his band. You were even singing along, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but watch you fondly, shamelessly staring at you even when it was his turn to sing and your gaze turned back to him. He met your eyes eagerly, and you almost felt as though the rest of the crowd disappeared as he sang, raspy voice soothing to your ears as you tried to push away the incessant fluttering of your heart. 
You stared at him even when it was no longer his part, watching in awe as he played the bass like it was second nature. Meeting his eyes once more, you couldn’t help the way your eyes flit to his ears, the flash of the jewelry bringing your attention to the cute hello kitty studs he wore; you pointed at your ears eagerly, and he seems to realize what you’re referring to as he sweeps his hair back, allowing you to take in the piercings properly; they’re healing surprisingly well.
The concert seems to pass by much quicker than you’d like— and you’re left with nothing but the muffled feeling in your ears and the dwindling adrenaline as you reluctantly make your way back to the entrance. You almost make it out, but you’re stopped last minute as a security guard approaches the two of you, asking you for to confirm your identities to him. 
“Beomgyu would like to see you,” he says, pointing at you as he reads your ID. You’re surprised, blinking owlishly as you take in his words, unsure if he’s messing with you as you say, 
“… Me?”
“Yes, if you could please follow me,” the security guard waits for you to come after him, but he seems to notice the way you hesitate and turn back to your friend with uncertainty. “She can wait in the VIP lobby if she’d like, but I was told to bring you specifically backstage.” 
It seems like something clicks for Chaeryeong as she lets out a small “ahhh,” in understanding, pushing you towards the security guard as you turn to her with wide eyes, surprised at her actions. 
“Go ahead! The VIP lounge has drinks,” she encourages you, rolling her eyes with every protest and “are you sure?” that leaves your mouth. “Yes I’m sure! Now go!” 
Reluctantly, you leave your friend behind in the VIP lounge, watching her get comfortable at the bar as she asks the bartender for a drink. The backstage area is a lot quieter than you’d thought it would be— it’s practically silent the moment you enter the area, the boys all probably tired and ready to go home after such a performance. But you’re in awe nonetheless, looking from door to door as the security guard finally guides you to the last one— Beomgyu’s dressing room, it seems. 
Knocking on it tentatively, you anxiously wait for Beomgyu to open up as the guard stands behind you; you really hope he wasn't messing with you.
“Hmm? Who is it?” You can hear the grogginess in Beomgyu’s voice as the door barely opens, his head slowly peeking out before it's met with the sight of your sheepish smile. 
“Ah, you can come in,” he gestures to you, suddenly much more awake as he glances back to the security guard, “you’re good to go, thank you.”
You’re restless as the door is shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the small dressing room as you patiently wait for Beomgyu to tell you why he brought you here. 
“___,” you look at him, surprised to find your name slipping from his lips so easily. He’s smiling, suddenly much more energized as he tells you, “we just signed with a record label. We’re set.”
You’re elated, his joy contagious as you take a second to process his words— he laughs, and you can’t help but share his laugh as you run to him, enveloping him into a tight hug that he gladly accepts, the smoky scent of his cologne lingering despite his change of clothes. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but it just feels right as you mutter a “congratulations” into the fabric of his shirt, nuzzling into his neck with a smile stuck on your face.
Pulling away from him, you’re reluctant to leave this small space that the two of you created; you can tell he feels the same, hands lingering at your forearms as he keeps you close, eyes fond as he watches the way your eyes sparkle under the lights of the room. 
“Does this mean you’re quitting your job at the mall?” You joke, cracking a smile that Beomgyu sees past— you don’t think you’re ready to watch him leave just yet. 
“Yes,” he says, honest words leaving him as he tugs you in closer, unable to look away from your glossy lips as he finds himself leaning in closer, his voice much quieter as he says, “but I’ll still visit now and then.” 
It’s not the perfectly romantic and corny line you were expecting, but it’s enough to prompt you to crash your lips with his, the weeks of tension and feelings that had built up between the two of you finally crashing down as you allow yourself to indulge in the feeling of him. He’s quick to kiss you back, the feeling rough and new as his snake bite piercings press against your flesh, a small sigh escaping you as you feel him nip at your lips. 
His arms have encased your waist and pulled you in tight, your body pressed flush against his and your hands splayed across his chest as he practically forces you to lean against him, his fingertips itching to explore your body further.
“Fuck, I couldn’t stand seeing you out there in your cute little skirt,” he groans, slotting a thigh between yours as he runs his fingers along the hem of your skirt, “made me scared someone else would try to make a move on you.”
“No, wore this just for you,” you confess, breathless and whiny as you grind on his thigh, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to hide just how aroused you were. He laughs at that, the sound airy and mocking as he guides your hips on his thigh, pushing you down on it more as he takes in the sounds that tumble messily from your lips. 
Placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you yelp at the way he angles your hips, clenching his thigh and bouncing it under you as your sensitive clit rubs and bumps against him messily. You’re practically delirious as you reach a hand down to move your panties aside, the stimulation not enough for you as you finally allow your bare cunt to come in contact with him.
“I can’t believe this,” he groans, watching the way a wet spot slowly begins to form over the place you continue to grind against, “my stupid girl, all fucked up over my thigh? Poor baby won’t be able to take my cock, then.” 
“No, I can take it,” you protest, your mind reeling from the pleasure that Beomgyu gives you— you can feel your stomach tightening with every clench of his thigh, the muscle pressing against you nicely, “Please, I can take it, please…” 
“You really think you can?” He asks, leaning to trail kisses down the column of your neck, “why don’t you come on my thigh, then we’ll see if you really can.” 
You’re nodding desperately for his approval, shirt clenched tightly in your fists as you work yourself up to your high, the feeling of his muscles pressing against you bringing you closer much quicker. With a particularly harsh bounce of his thigh, your mouth falls open, Beomgyu’s grip on your hips ruthless as he forces you down on him, guiding you through it as slowly come down from the blissful feeling. 
“Good girl, following my orders like that,” he mumbles, enjoying the way your shaking hands grip onto him helplessly. Gently, he guides you to the couch, allowing you to fall on it as he slowly begins to undress you, your grabby hands pulling at his shirt until he’s throwing it over his head. 
“Oh god—" he holds back a groan as he takes off your bra, suddenly finding it much harder to contain himself at the cute sight, his hands immediately finding their place on your breasts as he gulps. 
“Baby, I had no idea you pierced these,” he says, pretty fingers playing with the piercings on your nipples as you whine at the stimulation. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? They’re so pretty…” 
Beomgyu is mesmerized as you lay before him, a needy and panting mess as you let him play with your tits crudely, allowing him to pinch and roll the pierced nipples until they’re hardened. Slowly, he leans down to wrap his mouth around one of them, tongue darting out to lick at them as you gasp, back arching as you realize—
“Fuck, is your tongue pierced?” You gasp, watching the way Beomgyu sits up with a mischievous grin on his face. 
“Looks like we’re all full of surprises here,” he says, trailing kisses down your body before he finally stops at your navel, glancing back up as he says, “I’ve always heard it feels better when you get eaten out by someone with a piercing— wanna test it out?”
You’re ready to say every curse word in existence as Beomgyu dives down without a second thought, warm mouth wrapping around you and the feeling of his tongue— paired by his piercing— sends you into an overstimulated mess, still having yet to recover as you thread your hands into his hair, weakly attempting to pull him away from you before he’s pinning your hips down, his tongue insistent as he flicks it across your clit ruthlessly. 
“Beomgyu…” you whine out, body too sensitive to stay still, yet still begging for more as you thread your fingers tighter into his scalp, tugging harshly— the sting brings out a crude groan from him.
Slowly, you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance, an airy chuckle leaving him as he takes in the way you’re dripping wet for him. Pulling away, he watches as two of his fingers slide in easily, opening up inside you as he slowly begins to stretch them out inside you, biting at his lip at the way you clench around him. 
Leaning back down, he lays his tongue flat on your clit, enjoying the way you shake under him as he sets a brutally slow pace for you. 
“Enjoying yourself?” He taunts, unable to stop himself as his free hand reaches up to play with your nipples, still amazed at the cute piercings that had been hiding from him all along. You’re nodding along, though he’s not entirely sure you processed what he just asked from the way you’re so lost in the pleasure— which Beomgyu is more than happy to deliver more of. His tongue flicking across your clit paired with the quickened pace of his fingers is what sets you off, the stimulation too much for you the moment Beomgyu begins to tug at your nipple piercings teasingly. 
“Beomgyu please,” you plead, using your fingers that were threaded in his hair to pull him up, your lips briefly meeting his as you take in the taste of yourself— his tongue darts into your mouth as you allow him to coat your tongue with your own release, the teasing bites that he leaves you with as he pulls away making you whine stupidly. 
“So fucking pretty,” he mutters under his breath, staring down at your fucked out form as he finally releases himself from his restraints, his cock painfully hard and leaking as he kneels over you, “Wanna make you all mine. Keep you to myself.”
His words are an alluring promise as he slowly pushes into you, leaving kisses and bites all along your collarbones as you do the same to him. You sigh as he bottoms out, hips meeting yours as he takes your hand to place it on your abdomen.
“Do you feel that?” He asks, pressing his hand on top of yours as he slowly pulls out, a broken moan leaving you as you realize that fuck, you can. With every slow thrust you can feel every vein, his hand that remains on top of yours adding onto the pleasure as you feel him through your stomach as well.
“God, you make it so hard for me to hold myself back,” he groans, closing his eyes as you clench tightly around him, the warm feeling of your walls wrapping around him pushes him to his limits, the sounds that leave your lips only adding on to the mess.
“Don’t,” you breathe out, eyes dazed as they meet Beomgyu’s, “Don’t hold back— please.”
With one final look in your eyes, Beomgyu shakes his head, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before he’s taking your leg, bringing it up to press against your chest as it allows him to fuck you in a deeper angle. His pace is ruthless as he gives in to your request, the combination of his length and the stretch of his cock leaving your mind empty in a matter of seconds. 
“Fuck, be quiet baby,” he grits out, slapping a hand over your mouth in panic as you let out a particularly loud moan, the reminder of his other bandmates being nearby bringing about a rush of adrenaline— he didn’t want anyone else to hear the sounds you made. 
Your muffled whimpers and whines still managed to leak through Beomgyu’s hand, your body getting pressed down into the couch with the force that Beomgyu fucks you with. Your hands scrambled to find someplace to steady yourself on, quickly finding purchase on Beomgyu’s shoulders, your nails raking down his back accidentally as his cock pressed against a sensitive spot— you were only egged on by the surprised moan he let out by that. 
“God, you feel so…” he hisses as your nails dig into his skin, the stinging feeling making him pry your hands away from him as he pins them down, your fingers lacing with his immediately as he uses this to fuck into you harder. His lips crash against yours the moment you begin to get too loud again, and you accept the distraction gratefully as you relish in the feeling of his piercings against your skin. 
This new angle allowed for his hips to crash against your clit, the rough hits making you closer to your end as you clenched tightly around him, the feeling enough of a warning for Beomgyu as he continued to fuck you ruthlessly. Your nails dig into his hands as he begins to hit your sensitive spot repeatedly, your high crashing down on you unexpectedly as you clamp down on Beomgyu’s cock. 
He helps you ride through it, slowing his pace into nothing but a grind as he presses his hips against yours, placing relentless kisses on your lips as soft praise leaves him, the words not quite reaching you as you come down from your high. 
“Gyu,” you whimper, and Beomgyu thinks he might just come then and there, “keep going.” 
“More?” He asks, incredulous at your request, “fuck, you still want more?”
Nodding, you squeeze his hands as you innocently say, “want you to finish inside me.” 
God, you have no idea what you do to him. Your words hit him like a freight train as he feels his cock twitch inside you, shaking his head in disbelief at your request— how could you say something like that so sweetly? It’s like you were doing it on purpose. 
“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up until you can only think of me,” he says, his words drawing out a whimper from you as he begins to move once more, no longer hesitant as he watches the way your face contorts from the pleasure and over stimulation. Your words are all he can think of as he watches you try your best to be quiet, biting at your lips and failing as he presses his cock deep inside you, every drag and thrust he delivers making your eyes roll back in bliss. 
You might even be drooling at this point— but you don’t really care, at least not with the way Beomgyu is fucking you so nicely. You can feel his pace stutter as he lets out soft moans, hands untangling from yours as he sits up, placing his hands on your hips and angling them up as he uses you to his liking, the new angle making you slap your hands over your mouth— you’re sure something humiliating would have left your mouth if you hadn’t done so. 
His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips as his brows furrow, concentrated on chasing pleasure as his eyes flit back to you— to your watery eyes, your hands clasped over your mouth panic despite the sounds that leak through, and your breasts that bounce back and forth with each thrust. 
He can tell that a new orgasm is beginning to build in you, and he’s determined to make the coil snap as he reaches a hand down to rub at your clit, leaning over to whisper nothing but the filthiest things imaginable, a grin overtaking his face as he feels the way you’re quick to catch up to him, your trembling figure telling him all he needs to know.
“Come on darling, don’t you want me to fill you up? You’d look so pretty with my cum dripping between your thighs, I’ll make sure everyone will know you’re mine. Go ahead, come on my cock.” He’s rambling at this point, but it’s enough to set you off as you cum on him once more, the pathetic whine of his name enough to set him off as he follows close behind you, his thrusts sloppy and rough before he stills, filling you to the brim as your hands find themselves running down his back once more, the sting of pain mixing into his pleasure as his head drops onto your neck, the heavy feeling of his breaths against your neck the only thing that grounds you from your high. 
He’s careful as he maneuvers the two of you to lay down, having yet to pull out of you as the slow trickle of his cum escaping from you makes you shiver. Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he pulls you in for another slow kiss, unable to stop the smile that spreads across his lips, the two of you turning into a giddy mess in each other’s arms.
“I was waiting for the day I could kiss you like this,” he mumbles against your lips, the confession making you push against his chest in embarrassment, allowing him to pull you back in with a laugh. The two of you stay like that for a moment longer, and you actually think you could fall asleep like this—
“Oh my god, Chaeryeong!”
At the call of your friend’s name, Beomgyu groans, throwing an arm over his eyes as he asks, “she’s still here?”
“Yes!” You can tell that Beomgyu doesn’t understand why you’re panicking, but you feel absolutely terrible that you made her wait outside in the lobby while you— you…
“Gyu, I gotta go,” you whine, trying to pry yourself from his grip as you look around his dressing room, spotting a rag and a spray bottle filled with water that you could use to clean yourself up. “I have the day off tomorrow, just come over then.” 
“Can I? You promise?” Is all he says, unable to let you go as you try to rush to clean up. Turning back to him, you adjust your shirt, laughing at the way he seems to be eager for your response. 
“Promise,” you say, leaning down to give him a final goodbye kiss; it’s enticing when he tries to lure you in with more, but you know better as you collect your things, bidding him a final goodbye as you exit his room, allowing yourself to be escorted by security guards as you do the walk of shame. (Shame was actually not enough to describe what you felt— what you felt was much deeper, the realization that everyone probably heard you leaving you unable to look up from the floor.)
Yet even as you’re reuniting with Chaeryeong with a sheepish smile, you can’t help but feel the way your heart flutters at the feeling of your phone being flooded with messages.
Gyu:
Send me ur address pls
Would it be weird if I just come over rn
Say no so I can come over
You shook your head as you read through the messages, not noticing the way Chaeryeong peeked over teasingly.
“See, I told you— you were playing the long game.”
Yet this time, you couldn’t really deny her— because maybe you really were all along.  
⤬⤬⤬
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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strawberry kisses
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pairing: beomgyu x reader
genre: fluff
summary: when you accepted your boyfriend's sweet request to do his makeup, you weren't expecting the fiery turn that your little makeup session was going to take
warnings: none<3
word count: 875
notes: so- this was not planned. i got this idea during one of my study breaks and my mind wouldn't be at peace again until i wrote it<3
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“ah-“ “-it’s so cold” beomgyu exclaimed, slightly moving away from you.
“stay still-“ you grabbed his face again, dabbing the concealer you had just put on his face with a sponge.
beomgyu had been all over you that night, begging you to recreate the makeup look you had on your last date with him. but he was just so cute doing it, there was no way you could ever refuse him. so now- here you were, beomgyu sitting down on the edge of your bed with you on a chair, leaning over to do the base of his makeup. your hands were shaking a bit, even though you weren’t gonna leave the house again after this was done. it was just beomgyu who got to see the result. perhaps that was actually the root of your worries, you were nervous whether beomgyu would like your work or not.
“my neck hurts” beomgyu complained again. you let out a laugh as you got up, wanting to get your eyeshadow palette from the nightstand.
beomgyu’s arms suddenly wrapped around your waist, bringing you down with him on the bed. “w-what was that for?” you asked, flustered by his actions.
“i think i like this position better- my neck feels more relaxed this way.” he replied with a shrug.
beomgyu’s hands rested on your waist as you straddled his hips and continued continued your work. sometimes his fingeres travelled down to your thighs, tracing patterns on the velvety material of your pants. you grabbed his face again. every single one of your touches had his body melting underneath you, he was so infatuated with you, simply letting you do whatever you needed without questioning anything. he was content watching you do your thing, enjoying how all of your attention was on him and him only.
“your eyelashes are so pretty” you whispered, putting on a light coat of mascara on him. your cold fingers touched his skin, soothing down the burning sensation that bloomed in his cheeks from such simple words. your hand slid down to take hold of his chin and lift it up “pout your lips for me gyu”
“do i get a kiss if i do that?” beomgyu asked you cutely, voice laced with honey.
you playfully tilted your head to the side “maybe” you teased.
beomgyu closed his eyes, pouting his lips exaggeratedly. the feeling of the lipstick touching him instead of your own lips made him open them again. beomgyu huffed; he looked at the floor, sulking, instead of looking at you. you held back the urge to laugh and carried on with the final step, blending the crimson color with the pad of your fingers, feeling his plush lips against your skin. you could notice the way his face lit up, eyes glistening with mischief from the idea that just crossed his mind. one way or another, he was going to receive the kiss that he wanted from you “you know what this lipstick would look good on?”
“hm?” you lifted your eyebrows, waiting for beomgyu’s response.
“you” he answered, giving you a quick peck, chuckling at your surprised face.
you glanced at his lips, smudged lipstick on his face inviting you to mess it up even more. you leaned down, moving away the bangs covering his face to return the favor.
the continuous tentative pecks slowly raised in intensity, and with each kiss you would linger against his lips more, blood rushing through your veins. beomgyu took hold of you, rolling you on the bed so that you could be the one underneath him. he held your wrists above your head with one hand, his other one playing with some strands of your hair as he left kisses all over your cheeks, red marks from the lipstick blossoming along, as a clear sign of his adoration towards you. beomgyu’s heart fluttered at the sight, he took the lipstick tube and placed it in your hand, silently asking for more. he pouted his lips once again, and this time, you couldn’t resist him. your lips captured his in a shy, chaste kiss before fulfilling his request. the corners of his lips turned up and he gazed directly into your eyes as you colored his lips again. then, his head dived down, painting your neck with the same crimson marks that adored your cheeks. he nipped and gently bit at your skin, his tongue swiftly gliding over those same spots, letting out a sigh as he let himself become more and more absorbed by you, the worry of keeping his makeup intact long forgotten. he covered you with his love, slightly pulling the collar of your shirt down to cover the area right underneath your collarbone with more kisses. as much as beomgyu relished telling you that he loved you, he was much fonder of showing his endearment towards you through actions. he loved seeing how you couldn’t control the blush rushing into your cheeks as he kissed you, how you held on tighter to the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he travelled down your body, soft gasps escaping past your lips whenever his kisses turned slow and sensuous.
his face came back up, rosy lips curving into a smirk as he looked at you again “what a beautiful sight”
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taglist: @yoimyiia @txtbrainrot @i520sn @vaders-mom @ukitouu @mingiholic @ineedaherosavemeenow @beomslay
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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Just So You Know
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summary: you’re kinda with jeno, but when you realize his best friend jaemin is in love with you too, well it complicates things
length: 20,996 words
tags: friends to lovers, love triangle to polyamory, voyeurism, semi public, sex toys, edging, bondage, blindfolds, anal play, double penetration, threesome mmf, brief mentions of daddy kink
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There was a while when you thought Jeno and Jaemin were attached at the hip. You almost never saw them apart from each other, and any time that you did, the other would show up in the same place soon after, drawn together magnetically even when you were somewhere crowded or in public. 
But the first time that you saw Jeno alone, the first time that Jaemin didn’t immediately show up to interrupt, things happen quickly, hormones taking over. You learn that Jeno without Jaemin means that you get fucked quite well, pressed against the back wall of the small shed at the back of the property where they’re filming.
It happens repeatedly. 
Jeno gets you alone or you seek him out, you have sex. It’s easy.
You don’t know if he tells the others, and you don’t care one way or the other. It’s just a casual thing, a quick and easy way to get off between friends.
Keep reading
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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perfect present | h.rj
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❯ summary: it’s your boyfriend’s first birthday with you. too bad he’s too stubborn to tell you what he wants, leaving you to take matters into your own hands. still, you’re certain the little blue set you have at the back of your closet will be just the perfect present for him.
❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader
❯ genre: established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff.
❯ words: 5.9k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, lingerie, birthday sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight begging, praising, heavy petting, reader uses she/her pronouns, renjun calls reader his girl, renjun is very smitten, reader dresses up for renjun’s birthday.
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“Could you please stop being so stubborn?!”
It’s the twelfth time this week you’ve asked Renjun what he wanted for his birthday. You’ve asked the boy so much you swear you’ve had this argument in every part of your house: the living room, the bedroom, the dining room, and even the bathroom. But today, your boyfriend is adamant he doesn’t want anything in the kitchen. 
“I don’t understand you sometimes,” you huff, folding your arms across your chest and pressing your weight against the island. “You had no problem telling Chenle and Mark what you wanted, why are you giving me a hard time?” 
Renjun chuckles to himself as he starts placing last night’s leftover pizza in the microwave. 
You’re right — he knows you’re right — and he thinks about how willing he was to tell Mark about the new expensive shoes he had seen and needed to have. 
“This isn’t funny!” You groan. 
“Baby, I’ve told you a thousand times, you don’t need to get me anything,” he finishes twiddling the dial before turning around and pressing his arms against the counter behind him. 
You notice the way the arm muscles, that his short-sleeved t-shirt was exposing, tense and the way his veins become more prominent. He always looks so hot in the morning, hair dishevelled and eyes droopy from staying up all night just to fuck you. And you swear, if you weren’t so goddamn mad at him right now you’d fall to your knees instantly and fumble with his pyjama bottoms. 
“But I just want to treat you, Jun,” you whine, bouncing a little in distress. Renjun sucks a breath between his teeth as his eyes flick to your boobs.
He pushes himself off the counter and pulls you into a big bear hug, he was good at giving those, and the two of you always knew the minute he engulfs you in them you become putty in his hands. 
“You spoil me enough already by being my girl,” he presses a soft kiss to your hair and you almost melt — but then you remember, this is the twelfth time he’s played this tactic to avoid this conversation —  and you were sure as hell not letting him whither out of it once again. 
You untangle his arms from your sides and watch him smirk as they fall. This is usually the part where you kiss his nose and tell him to stop being so cute, but not today — you’re pissed. 
“I’m not falling for it this time, Huang,” you shove your hands on your hips, “so quit playing around and just tell me what you want.”
He huffs, “Baby, do we have to do this now, it’s early.”
“Yes, we’re doing this now! You’re not getting any younger!”
He rolls his eyes. He just doesn’t get it. Why can’t you understand that he doesn’t want you to spend your money on him? He didn’t need you to pamper him with expensive gifts just to know that you love him. He already knows that — you make it very clear to him when you're screaming his name. He finds it ironic actually, that you’re the one calling him stubborn yet you won’t give up on this. And that’s when he gets his idea. 
“I know what I want-”. Your eyes light up with joy the minute he says it. “-I want you to stop asking me what I want. Now that would be the best present to date,” and now they’re dimming. 
“You’re impossible, you know that?!”
“It’s all a part of my charm,” he winks. 
The microwave beeps and Renjun lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls out the hot plate. He takes a bite, mouth full and says, 
“I know you’re not gonna drop this, so we’ll finish this after my pizza.” 
Then he saunters past you and into the living room.   
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You in fact did not finish that conversation after Renjun’s pizza. You did try, but your boyfriend was great at nuzzling into your neck and gripping your thighs tight enough to distract you. 
So now, you’re standing here, in your kitchen, on his birthday, trying to make him breakfast as a last minute surprise. It was a small but possible gesture considering he had not given you anything to work with. 
Renjun stumbles out of the kitchen half asleep, hair all over the place with his sweatpants hanging off his hips. He rubs his eyes, wincing at the shriek of the smoke alarm that had woken him up. 
The sight he found in front of him was you, standing on top of the kitchen counter, frantically waving a dish towel at the smoke alarm to get it to stop. You’re covered in flour from trying to make pancakes from scratch, smoke steaming from the frying pan.
When the screeching does stop, you blow out a heavy frustrated sigh dropping your hands to your side noticing Renjun. He’s standing there, leaning against the door frame with a wide grin plastered on his face; looking from you to the kitchen that looks like a bomb exploded in it. 
"What's all this?" he asks, eyes lit up to match the amused look on his face.
You give him a sheepish smile. Gesturing to the plate of black pancakes on the bench across from him.
"Uhm... Happy Birthday?"
“Ah, so you finally decided on a birthday present.” 
“Yeah, but I think I’ve ruined whatever it was supposed to be.” 
The two of you look down at the ruined breakfast. You’re embarrassed but he’s so sweet about it, and still offers to eat the pancakes. You tell him not to, unless he wanted this birthday to be his last.
He comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around and pressing into you so you have to land your hands on the island counter in front. He nestles in against your ear. 
“Thanks for trying though.” 
You look up at him over your shoulder, “Don’t underestimate me, Huang. There’s more.” 
“More?” His eyebrow quirks.
You nod and grab his hand to lead him into the living room. He follows suit, eventually flopping down on the leather sofa. 
“You didn’t have to do all this, ___.” 
“Shhh,” you dismiss him, "just no peeking, okay?” 
"I would never.” 
Renjun can't see, he's sitting there with his hands pressed against his face. 
You’re honestly starting to regret this whole thing. This wasn’t even your idea but it was Haechan’s suggestion to surprise your boyfriend with lingerie. Well, not exactly lingerie, he just told you to do ‘something sexy for him,’ and this was what you landed on.
Calling Haechan was a last resort, you were in a moment of crisis and panic about only having a week left to whip up your boyfriend a present. You were hoping your boyfriend may have mentioned something to his friends — but he hadn’t — so alas here you are. 
You’re saving this for last though. For now, you have his actual wrapped present for him to open, and you’re just praying he likes it. It’s hard to buy presents for a man who has almost everything. 
You set the wrapped present on the coffee table in front of him, and move to sit next to him, adjusting the black silk robe you put on this morning to hide his real surprise underneath. 
"Okay, you can look,” you finally tell him, watching his hands drop faster than you can blink but his eyes immediately get caught by the black smooth material riding up your skin. He starts raking his gaze over your thighs before bringing it to your face.
The black pupils in his eyes expand inside the brown, a slow pleased form of excitement tugging his mouth up at the corner to flash his teeth.
You’re anxious to see what he thinks of his gift, you just want him to unwrap it already so you can see his reaction. 
"Open your present," you whine at him taking too long. 
But Renjun’s more impatient than you. His fingers starting to toy with the drawstring of the robe around your waist, trying to tug at the knot there with a pout.
"But I want this one.” 
You push his eager hands away and he huffs, shoulders slumping as his gaze goes to the table with his bottom lip pushed out. 
"I’m sure you do," you tease, reaching over to pick up his present wrapped in patterned blue paper. 
"It’s sort of a silly present, but I thought you might like it,”  you explain, watching him trace his fingers over the wrapping paper with an amused smile. 
"I kinda don't wanna open it... it's wrapped so pretty.” 
"Please open it — the suspense is killing me.” 
His frantic skilled fingers discard the paper next to him as he tore it away. He then picks up the small leather book in his lap that's now exposed.  A bright, albeit kind of confused laugh bursts from him as he looks. 
“Flick through it,” you instruct, and he does. 
You bite your lip, watching him inspect it. It’s a scrapbook you managed to put together last minute. “Some of the pages are blank, figured we could fill it out together as we do more things.” 
"I love it" he butts in, looking at you with a grin as he keeps flicking through it.
He leans over to kiss you, but you press your finger against his lips to halt him, watching his brows twitch together as his lips pucker against your finger, "We went over this at Christmas, open your presents first or we'll be here all night — you can have a kiss once you're done."
In response to your rules, he slams the scrapbook closed, dropping it on the table. Then you’re being grabbed and yanked towards him so fast that you fumble into his lap. His hand grabs your thigh to hoist it up over him, so your knees sit on either side of his hips.
Everything is so fast; you barely have time to register it. His large hands are grasping at your jaw, while his fingers splay against your cheek until he's pushing his mouth against yours with a force that knocks oxygen clean out of you.
He's sucking in quick broken breaths through his nose, putting everything into the kiss that's harsh and tender all at once. His hands slip from your jaw into your hair, pulling you closer to him so your hands rest against his chest and you fist at the fabric. 
He tears his mouth away for the briefest moment. You’re staring at each other with eyes red and glossy. 
“So I take it you liked it?” you ask with a bite of your lip. 
He shakes his head while smiling before tugging you forward again. His tongue delving back past your lips, “Of course I fucking like it.” 
His hands drop from your hair to grope over your waist and hips to hold you against him. You haven’t even gotten to your last present for him yet and he’s already crippling with desire. 
Renjun keeps his mouth hovering close to yours,
"Like? No like isn’t the right word — it's not good enough," he manages between kisses, "I love it, I love you.”
"It’s not that amazing," you hush him as he paws at your back and tries to connect your mouths again. 
“Yes, it is, because you made it."
You hate (love) the way he’s always so sweet and reassuring. You know he does it for your reaction, to tease you and make your cheeks turn red. So, you try to escape him before he gets the chance to make a snarky remark about the blush on your cheeks. 
But attempting to lift yourself off of him causes him to immediately protest, digging his fingers into your skin through the silk as he tries to move his face to your neck to attack there instead.
You push at his chest, and he whines a pathetic sound that has your skin tingling, "Don't tease me baby please, don't be mean. It’s my birthday.”
"I'm not trying to tease you,” you shake your head, pulling back and shuffling off of him, but he won’t let you.
After a long battle, you mange to unclamp his stubborn hands while he stares at you with desperate puzzled eyes.
"Then stop moving and come here,” he tries to reach for you to pull you back down but you step away, moving further from the couch. 
His gaze darts from your feet to your face, wetting his lips while watching you intensely. You see him take his bottom lip between his teeth when you move your hands to the knot at the front of your robe and slowly start to slip it undone. 
His eyes flash wider and his fingers grip tighter around his knees where he's sat with his legs spread wide. You can feel nerves buzzing in your body, taking a coaxing breath as you lock your eyes with his.
"You ready to open your last present?"
The anticipation in the air is palpable, it's enough to have your fingers trembling with the way Renjun’s suspenseful gaze keeps locking on you. But the thing that’s making your heart surge the most is the emotion behind his eyes. 
You never do things like this. At least, you haven’t with Renjun. And even though he tells you every day that you’re so beautiful and so perfect, you can’t help but feel your nerves tighten. 
"You gonna show me what's under there?” Renjun encourages in a slow voice, full of rasp. You watch his chest jump with a breath when you grip the edges of the robe to pull it open.
He notices you hesitate, and his brows twitch together as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "Don't be nervous, ever. Not with me."
You compose yourself with his encouragement. But you still hold your breath as you let the robe start to slip from your shoulders, the silky fabric inching down as you open it until it hits the floor. Your heart hammers with every bit of skin being revealed as you stand there in a set of blue lingerie. 
It's like time stops. Renjun hasn't so much as taken a breath, eyes frozen on you, darting everywhere at once.
You start to tense up, but then he lets out a breath. He clears his throat a few times and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out; he just sits there with his mouth ajar. You glance up at him, feeling your heart accelerate and blood rush to your cheeks. On the other hand, it looks like Renjun’s brain has completely short-circuited.
Harnessing a surge of confidence from his reaction, you take a few steps to close the gap between the two of you. His eyes stay transfixed as they trace over every inch of blue decorating your body. You’re standing between his spread legs, and he falls back against the backrest of the couch with a slight thud.
"Do you like it?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet. 
"I - I, uh..." He swallows, then blinks once, twice, and then closes his eyes shaking his head like he can't concentrate, "Uh - fuck, I..."
"Everything okay, Jun?" You suppress a smile and watch as he takes a deep breath when his eyes drift open, and he smooths his hair away from his forehead.
"No, I'm not - what the fuck are you trying to do to me...baby," he stumbles over his words, taking you in with another once over like he can't believe it. Then he brings his hands up to hover near your hips. "So, this is what you finally came up with?"
You chew on your lip, face feeling hot from how flattered you feel over his reaction. You’re not sure what you expected, but you didn't expect him to be this well... stunned.
"I wanted to give you the best birthday,” you murmur, “so yeah, I bought it for you."
He breathes like the oxygen was kicked out of him, reaching for your hands and pulling you towards him until you’re perching a knee on either side of his hips and resting your limbs on his shoulders.
His hands hover near your hips again and trace down over your thighs, but he doesn't touch them — not yet anyway. 
"I don't even think I deserve to touch you in this."
"Don’t say that. Haechan thought this would be a good idea," you tell him, feeling his hands finally settle on your thighs and watching his eyes flash wider as his jaw clenches.
Yep. That was the total wrong thing to say to him right now.
You wait for Renjun to blow a blood vessel in his forehead, but instead, his eyes go down to your cleavage under the blue mesh of your bra and he takes in a slow breath.
"This is what she talks to my friends about?" he mutters to himself, and you try so hard not to crack a smile.
His gaze drifts up to yours again, and he swallows; moving his hands up your thighs to feel his palms over the straps and garters enriching your skin before his jaw softens. 
"Well... look at it this way" you coax him, keeping your tone gentle whilst you smooth your hands over his shoulders to rest against his neck, "You're the only one that gets to take this off of me.” 
Your words have your boyfriend lifting his brows, and sucking his lower lip under his teeth and that old bothered look melts away to a much more pleased one, "Just me?"
"Only you," you nod, feeling his fingers press harder into the skin of your hips when he rests his hands there.
"Forever?"
“Always.”
He wets his lips, leaning in more so your noses nearly touch and his rough voice whispers into the air between you, "Can I tell you a secret?"
You can only manage a nod, chest tight from how the atmosphere feels like it's strangling you. There is such an intense feeling, because he's looking at you with hungry eyes that also look flooded with heart crippling love.
His hands move from your hips to trace his fingertips up your back, “You’re the first girl who’s ever done something like this for me.” 
He trails off to brush his nose against yours, before nudging it against your cheek and keeping his lips just out of reach. You feel your eyes start to burn, that lump lodging in your throat as you exhale a shaky breath. 
"I’m so fucking obsessed with you, ___. You just wouldn’t believe it," his fingers ghost back down your back, and he keeps his stare on yours.
"Please shut up and kiss me," you burst your words out in a single breath, gripping the sides of his neck to tug him towards you and connect with his lips. 
It's like a rupture of pressure as soon as your mouths touch, and Renjun sucks in a sharp gasp through his nose; attacking your lips with his in a kiss that's desperate and frantic.
His hands go straight to your now bare ass, that's only covered by two measly straps of the lingerie, and grips it. He starts hoisting you up, your arms clinging around his shoulders as tight as your thighs wrap around his hips. He blindly makes his way towards your bedroom, trying his hardest not to trip over his own feet or walk into something with you around him. 
Both of your lungs are trying to suck in the air but become nothing but a ball of gasps and pants mixed with shaky breaths and trembling limbs. 
He manages to make it into your dim bedroom when he urges your thighs down until your feet hit the ground and he's the one that drops down to sit on the edge of the bed. You stand in front of him, weak at the knees and cloudy in the brain with blood rushing through your body like fire.
Renjun stares up at you, his cheeks tinted with the flush that's crept down his neck to match the cherry colour of his raw lips. You move towards him. It’s like you have a magnet in your chest tugging at you with all its force to get you closer to him.
"Turn for me. I wanna get a proper look at you — see how lucky I am,” he rasps out of breath, and the deep gravelly sound leaving him makes your spine shiver.
His hands on your hips urge you to spin around. You’re not sure how your legs are able to withstand it considering how jelly-like they feel. 
"I’m the luckiest man alive...God fuckin help me,” he whispers to himself and you can’t help but allow your whole body to erupt in goosebumps when his eyes burn into every part of your skin. 
He’s lust drunk on you. 
Renjun’s hands come up, going to the blue material hiding your chest from him. He begins letting his fingers follow the edges of it, teasing his digits over your perked nipples. He continues going down and repeating his brushing over the garter belt and panties, taking in each detail like he never wants to forget it. 
"I kinda don't wanna open it... you're wrapped so pretty," he murmurs, looking up to catch your eyes and mimicking his earlier words.
Your hands are shaking from the tension in the air. His knuckles graze against the front of your underwear, making your breath hitch in your throat. He drags his tongue across his lower lip, sliding his palms down the front of your thighs. 
“I don’t think I have enough words to thank you for today. But I think I can show you.” 
You can't take this anymore, and before you can think twice you rush forward, leaning down to grasp his face and clamber on top of him. You kiss him as hard as you can, the force making him fall backwards as his shoulders hit the mattress with a bounce. 
He only gives you a few seconds before he's flipping you. Climbing over you and ushering you further up the bed. When his lips detach from yours, Renjun pushes himself up onto his knees to look down at you perched between his legs.
His chest is heaving, hair all over the place with random strands dangling in front of his forehead. He moves his hands to throw off his t-shirt. You get drunk off the sight of him when he focuses on getting his pyjama bottoms off. 
He drops forward as soon as his legs are free, his large hands dipping into the bed next to your waist with your legs bent on either side of his shoulders. He turns his head to leave a trail of heated wet open kisses up your skin that makes your centre throb.
Every action feels heightened, so intense but gentle. His movements are heated but careful like he's trying to fuck your heart but love your body at the same time.
Your hands move to his hair, stroking through it as he moves his mouth to your other thigh, paying it the same attention. You gasp when he takes the strap from your garter between his teeth to let it snap back against your skin.
"Jun please..." you sigh in a wavering breath. 
"Okay baby" he hushes against your skin, moving his hands to grip the hem of your underwear sitting over the top of the garter, "Gonna be so good to you. Make you feel how I do."
You hold your breath when you feel him gently start to tug it down your hips. His eyes focus on his hands dragging the material down your thighs like he's savouring the moment. Then he’s sitting up on his knees again to lift your legs and remove your underwear completely.
He dangles the blue fabric on his fingertip, raising a cheeky brow at you, "Think I might keep these."
"Don't you dare,” you burst out laughing, swatting at his hand as he giggles to himself.
He drops the underwear next to you on the bed, moving his hands to slip under your back. You arch to help him while he feels around and uses his fingers to unclasp your bra. His gaze is admiring, watching it slip off your arms.
"Definitely keeping this too.” 
You roll your eyes, grinning to yourself. But that smile is quickly wiped away when his eyes lock on your face and one hand takes your thigh to push it against the bed and spread your legs further apart. He drags his fingers up your slit; tracing through the warmth and arousal that had already soaked into the fabric he'd since removed.
Your mouth falls open at the same time his brows pinch hard together, his jaw clenched as he lets his gaze momentarily flick down to his fingers exploring your cunt.
Your hips buck up when he focuses his fingertips against the sensitive nerves, making you feel like your clit has its own heartbeat as jolts of pleasure shoot through you. Renjun leans forward to rest his hand next to your head, dipping his mouth down to latch it around your nipple, nipping and sucking against it.
"Oh-, fuck,” you hiss curving your chest up as your hips start to squirm. He traces slow lazy patterns against your clit, "Renjun - please, don't tease me - just, fuck I need--"
Your words are cut short when he applies more pressure to your nerves, massaging leg-numbing patterns against you while his teeth give your nipple a gentle tug before he moves to the other one to pay it the same attention. You gasp at the cold air that hits the bud.
"Tell me how it feels," he mumbles against your flesh when he moves his mouth to drag his lips between your cleavage, "I wanna know how you feel right now, tell me."
Like your vagina is about to scream in agony if he doesn’t hurry up and fuck you.
"S-So good," you manage to pant out, squeezing your eyes closed as your hips rut against his fingers when he dips them down to slip through your dripping centre to tease at your hole. "It’s amazing b-but I'm going to explode if you keep teas-"
Renjun shakes his head, flicking his eyes up to stare at you under his lashes when he licks a wet stripe up between your breasts. 
“No, I wanna know how you feel-" his lips press against the skin over your heart, "-tell me how you feel about me."
You choke on a moan when he dips his fingers down inside your pussy at your silence, sinking his middle and ring finger deep as his hot forehead drops against your chest. 
"Tell me,” He groans, voice low dropping deeper as he relishes your gripping around his fingers, "please."
"I feel- it feels like - uh, god I feel —" you whimper when he curls his fingers, massaging inside of you at that pressure point that makes your stomach quiver. "I l-love y-you."
It comes out as rambling. You’re stuttering like a mindless lunatic — but the one thing you're sure of is that it’s the truth. 
Your barely coherent words make Renjun still his fingers, sucking in a heavy broken breath when he lifts his face to seal his mouth against yours. His hand grabs hold of your thigh to hook it around his hip as he shifts closer until you feel the weight of his warm length heavy against your pubic bone. 
"I fucking love you too," he pants out against your lips, his voice thick and strained, "So fucking much I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop."
You roll your hips up against him, threading your fingers into his hair, "I don’t want you to ever stop — I want you to fuck me, please fuck me."
The tight knot in your lower half feels like torture at this point as his fingers are still working slow. He hushes you when he sees the distraught look on your face and hears the muffled whines from you as his motions become very still.
"Shhhh," his hips lift back as his hand wraps around the base of his length. He teases it up and down your drenched folds, "I'm not gonna stop - I just - I don't wanna fuck you... it's not the right word. It's more than that. Need you to feel that it’s more than that.” 
He applies pressure with his tip against your pussy, holding his weight up on his elbow next to you so he can tilt his head up and watch your face. His heavy glazed eyes locked on yours with his brows hooded over them. 
"Please keep looking at me."
You fight to stop your eyes from fluttering shut, staying captivated by the way his pink lips part and the way they twitch to verbalise a silent moan when he inches forward a fraction to feel his tip slip past the threshold and into you.
Your brows are scrunched together in pleasure, fighting to keep your hips still as the moment feels paralysing. 
He pushes forward in a slow savouring motion. When he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. His teeth suck in his lower lip between them, while a low skin-tingling moan echoes from deep in his chest as he stays still.
"Wrap your legs around me - I wanna be closer."
You do as he asks, tightening your thighs around his hips and resting the heels of your feet against his own thighs. You feel him sink even deeper and you watch the veins in his neck strain at the feeling.
"Please move" you beg, barely able to get the whisper out. 
Renjun struggles to keep his breathing even as he watches your face, slowly drawing his hips back, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward in a motion to fill you again.
Your fingers tighten in his hair when your hips come up to meet his. He starts in a slow drawn-out rhythm, panting out a soft groan.
Your eyes threaten to drift closed again, the blissful feeling enveloping all of your limbs too much to stay conscious. Renjun ducks his face down, attaching his mouth to yours and you moan into the kiss which elicits a stomach-knotting whine from him.
Before you know what's going on, Renjun is rolling you, turning on his side with you facing him and taking hold of your leg to hook it over his hips. His other arm wraps under your waist and around your back. His hand reaches between you, grasping his length and placing it at your opening before he thrusts into you again making you cry out at the feeling from this angle.
He keeps you hugged close to him, connecting you with him in long deep strokes while his hand comes up to tangle in your hair and he presses his forehead against yours. 
"Stay with me" he pleads, "Keep looking at me. Look at how you make me feel."
You can only respond with a gasp that hitches in your throat when he buries himself into you as deep as he can, rolling himself against you as your nails dig into the skin of his back. 
His hand slips from your hair for a brief moment, to reach and grab for your hand which he guides down to the spot between your legs. You take the hint; letting your fingers find your throbbing clit and work towards unravelling the tightness in your abdomen.
"Oh- god, shit,” you whimper, shocked by the combination of all the sensations consuming your body. Your hips start to writhe at the feeling.
"That's it baby - you make me feel so fuckin good, I want you to feel it too," he pants, forehead slick with sweat while both your bodies feel like they're burning and his thrusts start to build with more purpose. He’s fucking into you at an erotic speed as if he's trying to spill out every feeling he has with his body.
Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, and your muscles start to contract and flutter around him. It only encourages him to slow down the rhythm to drag out the feeling to a point you don't know how to handle.
You can feel him being swallowed inside of you with each thrust as your fingers slip down to where you’re joined. You toy with your clit helping your body reach a point where it’s trembling over the edge. 
Renjun finally caves, moving his face to bury against your neck, when your walls contract around him and your hips roll with his. 
"Fuck, __".
His breathing gets even more ragged as every muscle in his body becomes tense with his movements. He begs muffled words against your skin; tightening his arm around you like he somehow needs you closer.
"Tell me you love me again.” 
You manage to stutter out a breathless "I love you,” heaving out the air in your lungs as you work your fingers faster and Renjun fucks you further in love with him — if that’s possible. 
"No, say you love me. Say my name, __," he groans, pulling his hips back only to thrust them forward so deep you cry out. 
You rack your nails down his skin while your leg tightens around his hip to pull him closer. 
“I love you, Renjun. So fucking much.” 
His thrusts become more abrupt at your words. "That's my girl" he rasps. 
When he feels you tipping over the edge his thrusts quicken at animalistic speed. "Go on baby - come - let me feel it."
You couldn't stop it even if you tried — you wouldn’t. 
You let out a scream from the back of your throat at the force of him and chant out a string of mumbles of his name. Your body convulses and shakes whilst you clamp around his length to which Renjun grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.
"Always so good for me — fuck!" His sentence gets cut short with a loud growl that sounds like it was punched out of him. His rhythm falters as he clings to you and sobs out moans against your neck.
He snaps his hips forward and sinks into you to grind his hips against you to linger in the feeling. His muscles shuddering and jolting as he gasps for air and his own orgasm punches into him. 
Hearing and feeling him in so much bliss is only dragging out the aftershocks of your own orgasm. You’re both a mess of limbs and shameless noises before you feel him still completely. His release erupts into you in warm spurts, his body twitching with each one.
You’re like a limp puddle, but Renjun stays clung to you, sucking in harsh breaths not daring to move and keeping your sweaty bodies tangled.
"Fuck, if not knowing what I want for my birthday means I get to have you like this, I never want anything ever again," he rasps, laughing under his breath and sounding delirious.
You can only hum in response, your mind too fucked out to even respond. 
You lay wrapped up in each other, and you know you need to get cleaned up, but you honestly can't be bothered. Enjoying the post-orgasmic pleasure too much. 
"Happy fucking birthday to me!”  he drawls, finally letting his face fall flush against the pillow. 
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nobodyliya · 1 year
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blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun
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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 ✲
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“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.
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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…”
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“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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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“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. 
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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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nobodyliya · 2 years
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Such a sweetheart !! ♡
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nobodyliya · 2 years
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TXT 🦊 Yeonjun [201026 Blue Hour - Dance Break Ver.]
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nobodyliya · 2 years
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nobodyliya · 2 years
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hyunlix tiktok live
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nobodyliya · 2 years
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤsorry, i love you
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