renjunpeach

[renjunpeach]

MY ANGEL - TEASER

I loved someone who was never really mine.

They came to me in silence, like a dream or a memory that never belonged to me. I called them an angel, my angel, though I don’t know if they were ever real, or just the echo of something I needed to believe in.

And maybe, if you listen closely, you'll hear them too.

pairing : nonidol!mark lee × fem!reader

genre : angst, no comfort, major character death, future smut (maybe.)

warnings : death, violence, deeply described gore, drugs, toxic relationship, asshole!mark, manipulation, suggestive

word count : unknown for now

part 1 part 2 final

You called him your angel once not because he saved you, but because he was the only thing that made the pain feel beautiful.

It started with midnight drives and laughter that echoed louder than your thoughts. His eyes lit up when he talked about nothing, and you memorized the way his fingers drummed the steering wheel when he was anxious. He made everything feel alive, wild, sharp, dizzying. You mistook that for love.

Mark was the kind of person who could burn down a room and make you thank him for the warmth. He didn’t just walk into your life, he crashed into it, dragging chaos behind him.

He told you things you’d never heard before.

Told you he needed you.

Told you no one had ever made him feel the way you did.

But it was a lie or maybe a half-truth.

Because Mark didn’t want love.

He wanted control.

And you? You let him.

You let him pull you in, even when he came home with blood on his knuckles and guilt in his eyes. You kissed the bruises on his jaw after every fight he wouldn’t talk about. You forgave him when he disappeared for three days and came back high, trembling, whispering that the world didn’t make sense without you.

You held him when he cried, even when you were the one bleeding.

Some nights, you woke up choking on his name the ghost of his touch clinging to your skin like frost. Other nights, he laid beside you like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t spent the entire day breaking you down with sharp words and hollow apologies.

“I’d die without you,” he said once, his voice low and shaking.

“I’d kill for you,” he said another night, knuckles slick with someone else's blood.

But the most worst thing he ever said?

“You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had.”

Because you believed it.

You kept holding on to the version of him that only existed in the quiet, in the seconds before sleep took him, when his hand found yours without thinking. When he kissed your shoulder like you were something fragile. Safe.

But those moments always ended.

And the violence returned.

Like clockwork. Like gravity. Like him.

It wasn’t a question of if he’d ruin you.

Only when.

And when it came, it was slow. Deliberate.

Your name cracked from his lips like a silent prayer he didn’t deserve to speak.

You saw it in his eyes before it happened, that flicker of the boy you loved, drowning in the man he became.

You reached for him anyway.

You always did.

But this time, he didn’t reach back.

And now, there’s nothing but silence.

Not the peaceful kind. The kind that screams. The kind that claws at your ribs and won’t let you forget.

He called you his angel.

But in the end, even angels fall.

a/n: hey guys so im slowly coming back trust i js got out of the hospital

[renjunpeach]

OO% 𓏼 PROVOLLEYBALLPLAYER!NA JAEMIN X READER

𓎟𓎟 ◞ angst / no comfort

"for you i'd give my all."

—

He skipped practice for the third week.

It doesn’t properly register how long he has been sitting here. In this hospital room.

Watching her.

He’s losing her. And he's afraid'.

He hates seeing her like this.

Without her big, beautiful smile.

And the stupid jokes he ‘hates’.

“Y/N..” he felt his own voice cracking, his eyes tearing up.

“You should go to practice.” She spoke up, her voice, fragile, weak.

His eyes widened, hearing the rasp, the weakness in her voice.

“No. I'm not leaving you.” He muttered, holding her hand and squeezing it.

She couldn’t help but look down.

And he hated that. He hated how she didn’t look at him.

“Y/N, look at me.” he mumbled, his free hand instinctively coming up to cup her chin and turn her head to look at him.

“Can you promise me something?”

He freezes a bit, but he nods almost immediately.

“Anything.” he answers without any pause.

“Go, play. Win the nationals.”

His hand still cups her chin as he looks at her, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“I don’t care about nationals without you there.” he mumbled, leaning a bit closer to her, his fingers gently tracing her cheek.

“Please, win for me.”

His heart tightened at her words, and he lets out an annoyed huff at how stubborn she was.

But he could never say no to her.

“Fine. I’ll win, just for you.” He mumbles grumpily.

“It’ll make me happy.”

He scowls at the way her words made his heart skip a beat.

“You’re being unfair, you know that.” His voice was barely above a grumble, and his fingers move to gently toy with some of her hair.

She kissed his cheek. And his breath seemed to hitch, and he finds himself trying to fight back a flustered expression. Gosh, he hated how she managed to make his brain short-circuit like that. He lets out a sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

“You’re such a pest.” He muttered, but his fingers are still gently playing with her hair.

“Now go. Go practice.”

He groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the chair as he looks up at the room’s ceiling.

“Dont wanna” he murmurs. He glanced down to give her a frown.

“You’ll still be here when i get back, right?” He hates the insecurity in his own voice.

“Of course i will. I’ll be cheering for you from here.”

“It’s not the same,” he grumbled, but his grip on her hand tightened a bit.

He lets out another sigh, before he reluctantly rises from the chair, his eyes never leaving her.

“And you’ll rest while i’m gone, right?” he said, his gaze almost stern as his hand moved to gently boop your nose.

“Of course i will.”

He hummed approvingly, a small smirk tugging at his lips when he sees that she was listening.

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Good, i’ll see you later.” He murmured, letting go of her hand.

But there was no later.

He went out. He went to that practice. And god he wished he didn’t.

One call.

It took one call and his whole world broke.

a/n: feeling quirky. since im stuck in the hospital.. why not?

[renjunpeach]

🌙 - CRIMSON MOON

𐔌 werewolf!taeyong x vampire!reader 𐦯

⌣⌣         ◌⃘    warnings: angst, forbidden romance, slightly suggestive

೯ ⠀ ⁺ word count: est. 1.2k ~ genre: fantasy, supernatural, romance

The scent of blood was thick in the air.

It clung to the midnight mist like a curse, coating the leaves in the forest with the memories of war. For centuries, vampires and werewolves had fought over this land, the cliffs of Seoul, where moonlight struck the earth like it was bleeding silver.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

You never were.

But there was something about this place that called to you… or rather, someone.

He emerged from the trees, shirt torn, eyes glowing that unmistakable amber, like fire trapped in ice. His presence was a growl wrapped in silence, tall, tense, feral.

Taeyong.

The werewolf prince. An alpha. An enemy.

And the one you couldn’t stay away from.

"You're late," he said, voice gravelly with the remnants of a shift.

You stepped forward, brushing strands of hair from your face, your red eyes gleaming in the dark. “You’re bleeding.”

He smirked. “So are you.”

You looked down, surprised to see the faint tear across your arm. A werewolf's claws would do that, even to a vampire.

Taeyong closed the distance between you, brushing his fingers across your skin. You didn’t flinch. You never did with him. His touch was warm, the kind of heat you’d always been denied, both by species and by fate.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he whispered.

“Neither should you,” you murmured back, your voice soft but steady. “But we always do.”

His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in like gravity had lost all other meaning. For a moment, all the bloodshed disappeared, no clans, no laws, no ancient grudges written in bone.

Just Taeyong. And you.

“I dreamt of you,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “You were standing in the sun.”

You laughed bitterly. “You know that would kill me.”

“I know.” He pulled away slightly, his expression unreadable. “But you looked happy.”

The silence between you tightened, not uncomfortable, but weighted, like the universe was watching. Waiting. Daring you to make the first move.

Your kind had hunted his. His had burned yours alive. There was no peace treaty. No secret alliance. If you were caught, you'd be executed. If he was caught, he'd be torn apart.

Still, your lips met his like it was your last breath. Because it always might be.

His kiss was wild, desperate, the kind of passion only monsters could understand. He tasted like blood and pine, like something raw buried beneath centuries of instinct.

When you pulled away, your fangs grazed his bottom lip.

“You’re shaking,” you said.

“You’re cold,” he replied.

You turned from him, unwilling to let your guard down more than you already had. “This can’t keep happening.”

“I know.”

“Then stop following me.”

“You first.”

You turned back. “You make it impossible.”

The look in his eyes was a snarl softened by love. “So do you.”

He took your hand then, gently, like he was afraid of breaking you even though you were both built to destroy. Your fingers fit too perfectly in his. It made the truth sting worse.

Taeyong stepped closer, voice hushed. “When the next blood moon rises… they’ll send hunters.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

“I can’t protect you anymore.”

“I never needed protection,” you said, fangs just barely peeking from your lips. “I needed you.”

That broke him. His expression crumbled, and for a second, he looked so human.

“Then run with me,” he whispered. “Leave them. Leave the clans. We disappear. We start over.”

You blinked, torn between your head and the heart that shouldn’t beat anymore. “We’d be hunted forever.”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “Let them hunt. Let them try. I’d burn the world for you.”

And you believed him.

Because Taeyong wasn’t just a werewolf. He was your werewolf, the one the stars had cursed you to love in another lifetime.

So you stepped forward, pressed your lips to his ear, and whispered, “Then let’s burn it together.”

a/n: hi guys...... im sorry i disappeared, im currently at the hospital hahaha

← masterlist

[renjunpeach]

should i make them break up or make up....

[renjunpeach]

hey guys.. im back...

[renjunpeach]

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

love me not ♫ back to friends

prisoner ♪ loser

lie with you ♫ let down

run away ♪ noid

beautiful life ♫ teddy picker

white ferrari ♪ nuts

moonstruck ♫ kingslayer

119 ♪ love on the floor

python ♫ i'mma be

a/n: junnie's favorite songs

[renjunpeach]

⭐ - THE FAULT IN OUR STARS

𐔌 demon!jeno x angel!reader 𐦯

⌣⌣         ◌⃘    warnings: angst, no comfort, heart break, slight religious symbolisim (angel/demon dinamics),

೯ ⠀ ⁺ word count: est. 400 ~ genre: fantasy, angst, forbidden love ໋　

They always said angels and demons weren’t meant to fall in love.

But somehow, between stolen glances across battlefields and whispered confessions in the hidden corners of the world, you and Jeno did.

It was reckless. It was dangerous. But it was beautiful.

And now this was all ending.

The stars above burned cold and distant, mocking the two of you as you stood at the border between Heaven and Hell—the place where the sky fractured into an endless twilight.

You held his hand, your golden light tangled in the shadows that clung to him. It hurt to touch him now, a searing reminder that your worlds were tearing you apart.

“They found out, didn’t they?” you asked, voice shaking.

Jeno nodded, his eyes dim. “They gave me a choice,” he said quietly. “Leave you... or be killed.”

Your chest tightened, wings trembling at your back. “And you're choosing to leave,” you said, hating how small you sounded.

Pain flickered across his face. “I’m choosing to survive. For you. Maybe... maybe someday, if the stars allow it...” His voice cracked, and he didn’t finish the sentence.

You knew the truth. There was no someday for you and Jeno. Angels belonged in the light. Demons belonged in the dark. And love could not exist between the two.

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek, memorizing the warmth, the sharp edges of his jaw, the way he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"If we are the fault in our stars," you whispered, "then let them blame us forever."

His hands shook as he pulled you into one last kiss—desperate, broken, infinite. It tasted like salt and sorrow, like dreams too fragile for the world you were trapped in.

When you pulled away, the stars blurred behind your tears.

"I'll find you," he promised, voice barely above a breath. "Even if I have to tear the sky apart."

You smiled, even as your heart shattered, even as the light began to call you back and the darkness pulled him away.

"You already did."

And with that, Jeno turned, wings of black smoke unfurling, and disappeared into the night—while you stood alone, bathed in a starlight that suddenly felt unbearably cold.

back to masterlist

a/n: late jeno birthday post guys... </3

[renjunpeach]

🪡 - what the hell are we?

n a v e g a t i o n

m.list information music

[renjunpeach]

🎈 - "ALMOST"

𐔌 nonidol!sion x fem!reader 𐦯

⌣⌣         ◌⃘    warnings: terminal illness, death, "unrequited" love, emotional conflict, "cheating" implications, guilt/grief, Jisung is reader's boyfriend ..

೯ ⠀ ⁺ word count: est. 1k ~ genre: angst, no comfort .

The monitors keep beeping steadily. A cruel, rhythmic reminder that Sion is still here — but barely.

You sit beside him, hands twisting helplessly in your lap. The room smells like antiseptic and slow death.

You shouldn’t be here.

Not like this.

Not when your boyfriend is waiting outside, pacing the halls, thinking you're only saying goodbye to an old friend.

You tell yourself it’s true.

You almost believe it.

Sion's breathing is shallow, ragged. The skin under his eyes is bruised purple from exhaustion.

But when he turns his head and sees you, he still tries to smile.

God. That smile.

You feel it like a knife under your ribs.

“Hey…” he rasps out, voice barely audible.

You reach for his hand before you can think better of it. His fingers are cold, trembling in yours.

“I’m here,” you whisper, forcing a smile you don't feel. “I'm not going anywhere.”

You wonder if he knows how much of a lie that is.

For a moment, it’s quiet—just the soft hum of machines and the sound of your heart breaking.

Then he speaks again, slow and careful, like every word costs him.

“I need to tell you… something,” he breathes.

You shake your head quickly. "You should rest, Sion. We can talk later—"

“There’s no later.”

The words hit you harder than you expect.

You bite your lip, hard enough to draw blood, to keep yourself from sobbing.

He squeezes your hand weakly.

"I just..." He closes his eyes, gathering strength he doesn't have. "I didn’t want to leave without saying it."

You feel your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Sion—"

“I love you.”

The words fall into the room, soft and devastating.

You freeze.

Your stomach twists into sick, guilty knots.

You glance instinctively at the door—as if Jisung might have heard, as if you could hide from this moment.

But it's too late.

Sion's looking at you like you're the only thing he’s ever needed. Like he could die happy now, just for saying it out loud.

And maybe he could.

You blink hard, tears burning your eyes.

"Sion," you whisper, broken. "I—I'm with someone."

You say it like an apology. You say it like a confession.

His smile doesn’t falter. It doesn’t even dim.

"I know," he says quietly. "I always knew."

You can't breathe.

He knew. All this time, he knew.

And he loved you anyway.

You want to tell him you loved him, too. Maybe not in the right way, or at the right time—but there was love there, hidden between all the laughter, all the years of pretending it was just friendship.

But it’s too late to say it now.

You would only be trying to make yourself feel better.

Sion deserved more than that.

He deserved a lifetime you couldn't give him.

He deserved everything.

You squeeze his hand harder, like you can hold him here a little longer.

"I’m sorry," you choke out.

He shakes his head slowly, painfully.

"Don’t be. I... I just wanted you to know."

His breathing hitches. The monitors stutter.

"No, no, no, please," you beg, leaning over him. "Stay with me. Stay, please, I—"

He smiles one last time—soft, tired, free.

His hand slips from yours.

Then the flatline scream fills the room.

You don't hear the nurses rushing in. You don't feel your boyfriend grabbing your shoulders, pulling you back.

All you can feel is the emptiness where Sion used to be. All you can hear is his voice,

"I love you."

You almost said it back. You almost loved him out loud.

Almost.

But almost doesn’t matter.

Not anymore.

back to masterlist

a/n: hey guys... how are we feeling today....

[renjunpeach]

🍁 - FALLING OUT OF LOVE WITH SION

. 𐔌 nonidol!sion x fem!reader 𐦯

⌣⌣         ◌⃘    warnings: none i believe

೯ ⠀ ⁺ genre: angst .

a/n: this is me trying to work with smaus 💔 bare with me guys im learning MIGHT do another part later but im busy rn..ignore the time im lazy to fix that.. also about that jeno thing..might publish it tonight if i got the energy..

[renjunpeach]

🐻 - RANDOM BF!HAECHAN TEXTS pt 1.

𐔌 nonidol!haechan x fem!reader 𐦯

⌣⌣         ◌⃘    warnings: in one of them haechan mentions readers badussy, mentions of breeding ..

೯ ⠀ ⁺ genre: fluff, suggestive, crack .

a/n: guys im trying to be as active as i can but work is killing me bare with me......

[renjunpeach]

posting drafts for now, im sorry i havent posted much im so busy

[renjunpeach]

🩰 - PIROUETTES

𐔌 singledad!jaemin x afab!reader 𐦯

⌣⌣         ◌⃘    warnings: none ~ genre: fluff, single dad au

೯ ⠀ ⁺ word count: est. 1.8k ໋ 　

Jaemin had never imagined himself as a ballet dad.

He'd been a performer, sure. Idols understood stages, movement, the electric buzz of an audience. But tutus and tiaras? Those were things he'd only seen in cartoons until his daughter, Harin, had fallen in love with ballet.

It had started with a video. A sparkly YouTube clip of The Nutcracker had entranced her four-year-old soul. The beautiful dancers, the soft, graceful movements, the magical setting—it all made sense to Harin in a way it never had for Jaemin. From that moment, Harin was hooked. There wasn’t a day she didn’t twirl around their apartment, pretending to be one of those fairy-like creatures.

And Jaemin? Well, he became her reluctant audience. The kitchen table became her barre. The coffee table became her stage. And Jaemin, despite his best efforts, became an expert in holding his position as both her dance partner and sometimes, an unwilling cushion.

When Harin turned five, she made it official: she was going to be a ballerina. “dad, I want to be like the girls in the video,” she'd declared one day, bouncing on her little feet. Jaemin had smiled, ruffling her hair, unsure of what to do next.

The solution came in the form of a local ballet academy. Neo Street Ballet Academy. Harin was excited, Jaemin was skeptical. Ballet? Wasn't that for rich, delicate people? But Harin had looked at him with those wide, hopeful eyes, and somehow, he found himself signing her up for Saturday morning classes.

Ever since, every Saturday became sacred.

Each Saturday at 10 am, Jaemin found himself sitting on the slightly uncomfortable bench outside Studio 7A, his fingers nervously gripping the edges of his coffee cup. Harin’s pink glittery backpack always sat at his feet. And there, he sat with a slight knot in his chest, watching the door as parents came and went, always feeling out of place.

But it wasn’t just the kids or the dance class that made him anxious.

It was you.

You, who made everything seem effortless. You, who glided into the studio like you were born for this. You, who greeted him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat every time. You weren’t flashy. In fact, you were usually dressed down in sweaters, leggings, and sneakers. Your hair was in a simple ponytail, and your makeup was soft. Yet you had this radiance about you—like sunlight followed in your wake. And the way you spoke to the kids... it wasn’t just about teaching them steps. No, it was about giving them your full attention, making them feel seen, like they were the most important thing in the world.

And somehow, Jaemin couldn’t get you out of his head.

“Good morning, Mr. Na.”

He snapped back to attention. His coffee, still in his hands, was perilously close to spilling.

“Guh—Good! I mean, good morning! Hi. Hello.”

Your lips twitched, the corners curving in amusement, and Jaemin’s heart jumped into his throat. He wanted to hide, to melt into the ground. Every Saturday, it was the same thing: his clumsy, stammering response whenever you greeted him. How could you make him so nervous? Why did he forget how to speak when you were around?

Harin peeked around Jaemin’s legs, and in her usual no-filter way, giggled. “Dad’s being weird again.”

“Again?” you asked playfully, crouching down to Harin’s level. Your voice was soft, warm, and without even realizing it, you’d already won Jaemin’s heart.

“She says I get nervous when you talk to me,” Jaemin explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You grinned. “She’s very observant. But you don’t have to be nervous, Jaemin. I don’t bite.”

Jaemin’s face was so red, he could feel it burning. How does she do that? he thought.

“I—I’m not nervous,” he stammered. “Just... regular... parent tension.”

“Right,” you said, raising an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

Jaemin felt like he was melting into the floor. He had to change the subject. “Harin’s really excited. She’s been doing spins in the kitchen. Nearly knocking over a plant.”

“She’s improving so much! Her balance is really impressive.”

“She gets that from me,” Jaemin said confidently, then paused. “Wait, no, that’s a lie. I can’t stand on one foot without looking like a flamingo in distress.”

You laughed. It wasn’t a chuckle. It was a genuine laugh, and Jaemin felt a rush of warmth spread through him.

“Alright,” you said, eyes twinkling. “Let me get them started. You can hang around, if you’d like. We don’t mind the company.”

“Me?” Jaemin blinked, startled. “In the studio?”

You shrugged casually. “Sure. If you're up for the flamingo challenge.”

Just like that, Jaemin’s weekend went from routine to completely unexpected.

Inside the studio, everything was different. The warm, comforting scent of fresh air mingled with the faint smell of wood polish and leather. Soft piano music played in the background as tiny feet tapped in rhythm, their movements full of innocence and energy. The sound of children's laughter echoed around the studio, and Jaemin stood there, feeling like an intruder in a world he barely understood.

You were the opposite of everything Jaemin had expected. You weren’t cold, calculating, or distant like some teachers he’d met in the past. You were warm and approachable, moving effortlessly between each student with gentle encouragement.

Harin caught him watching from the corner of her eye. “Dad! Come here!” she shouted, waving dramatically, her tiny arms flailing in every direction. You turned toward him with a smile. “Wanna help us with pliés?”

Jaemin froze. “I don’t want to cause a scene,” he muttered, but your gentle expression seemed to pull him forward, like you were asking him to just... be himself.

“You’ll be fine,” you assured him, your voice soft and encouraging.

He stepped hesitantly onto the floor, feeling awkward. He stood among a group of five-year-olds, all in matching leotards and skirts. His tall frame towering over the tiny dancers made him feel out of place.

You demonstrated a plié, your movements smooth and graceful. “Like this, everyone,” you said. “Bend, heels stay down. Nice and slow.”

The kids followed your movement, perfectly. Jaemin? Well, he tried. He bent, his legs wobbling beneath him. The kids didn’t seem to notice, but one of the little girls whispered loudly, “He’s not very good at this.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes, but his heart raced. “Hey,” he said, “I’m trying.”

You smiled and moved closer. “You’re doing great, Jaemin. Don’t worry, ballet is about progress, not perfection.”

“Isn’t everything?” he murmured, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror.

For a moment, something passed between you—something gentle, tender, yet undeniable. Jaemin’s heart skipped.

After class, the connection deepened.

As the kids finished up their routines, you handed out stickers, your voice full of encouragement. Harin was the last to receive hers, skipping happily over to Jaemin with a huge grin on her face.

“I got a star sticker!” she said proudly.

“Because you’re a star,” Jaemin replied, brushing her bangs out of her face, his smile softening as he admired his daughter.

You walked over, your hand brushing against Jaemin’s arm as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “She’s a natural,” you said, watching Harin twirl in the studio.

Jaemin’s smile faded slightly. “She gets that from her mom,” he said softly, voice tinged with something unspoken. “Harin’s mom was... she danced too. Not ballet, but she had the same fire.”

You paused, sensing the sadness in his words. “I didn’t know,” you said gently.

“It’s been just us for a while now,” Jaemin continued, his voice low, almost distant. “She’s a good kid. And I try my best.”

“She’s a great kid,” you corrected him. “And she’s lucky to have you.”

A silence fell over the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a space where understanding quietly lingered, both of you soaking in the weight of the moment.

Jaemin shifted slightly. “You’re really good with her,” he said. “With all of them. You make them feel seen.”

You looked at him, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Thank you, Jaemin,” you whispered.

Weeks passed, and things slowly changed.

Every Saturday, Jaemin and you exchanged smiles, waves, and small conversations. Harin flourished under your teaching, and Jaemin found himself becoming more involved in the world of ballet—practicing pliés at home, helping Harin with her turns, laughing at how clumsy he was.

But more than that, Jaemin found himself drawn to you. He didn’t know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, you had become a constant in his life.

One rainy afternoon, as the class practice ends, you handed Jaemin an umbrella from the staff closet. “Didn’t bring one?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eye.

“No,” Jaemin admitted, chuckling. “Harin begged me to let her wear her ballerina cape, and I forgot to pack one for myself.”

You laughed softly, your eyes sparkling. “You always let her wear the weirdest things. I love that about you.”

Jaemin blinked, surprised by your words. “You do?”

“I love that you let her be herself. Not all parents do that,” you said, voice quiet but full of sincerity.

Jaemin’s heart ached at the warmth in your tone. “I just want her to feel safe. Happy.”

“She does,” you said softly. “Both. Because of you.”

Jaemin swallowed, suddenly aware of how close the two of you had become. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just nodded, grateful for your kindness. The rain pattered softly against the windows. Harin was twirling in her ballerina cape, laughing as she imitated one of the older dancers. Jaemin smiled, watching his daughter.

Then, you spoke again, your voice quieter now. “Jaemin, if you ever want to hang out... outside of class... just the three of us... I’d love that.”

Jaemin’s breath hitched. “Are you asking me on a date?” he blurted out, a bit too loudly.

You flushed, your cheeks turning pink. “Only if you want it to be one.”

Jaemin stared at you for a moment, feeling like the world had slowed down. He didn’t know what to say. His heart was racing, his mind running through a thousand thoughts. But in the end, there was only one answer.

“Okay,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

And just like that, everything changed.

back to masterlist !

[renjunpeach]

hey guys... remaking renjun smau because i hate everything and i dont know how to continue (i keep rewritting it over and over and i hate it) so expect it to be a bit different

[renjunpeach]

guys i lied i dont have time for shit today omg

save me.

[renjunpeach]

i've been super busy but tomorrow im posting a late jeno birthday post bc im swamped with work and i quite literally am so tired i cant think or even finish writing.

i PROMISE i will post chap 2 for renjun smau im just stuck because i re did it....

[renjunpeach]

sorry i lied guys... ive been busy af. biology major and they got me making 3d shit im SICKK