#nct dream scenario | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

TAKE THE STAIRS ✲ n. jaemin

pairing. na jaemin x fem! reader starring. na jaemin, ning yizhuo genre. college au, strangers to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive. warnings. alcohol consumption, throwing up, swearing word count. 18k (18.666) a/n. thank you all so much for 1k followers! consider this fic a small gift of celebration

playlist. candy - baekhyun ; honey - l'arc en ciel ; take the stairs - coin ; cutie - coin ; rose-colored boy - paramore ; don't go yet - camila cabello ; hot crush lover - blu detiger ; teenage dream - 5sos (cover)

after having an unexpected guest witness the neverending quarrels with your roommate, na jaemin starts to practically live at your place— or— where yizhuo's flegmatic project partner starts to put a suspicious amout of effort into their assignment.

✲ PART 2 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

Hot droplets of water wash over you like raindrops during a heavy storm, the mirror fogging up at the hot temperature you always choose to shower your body in, fingers trailing through your hair making you finally relax after a long day at college. You spent the day presenting your project and having a test from Physics, so you only deserve a good shower. You would even consider taking a bath, but your small apartment doesn’t have a bathroom big enough to contain a bathtub, so a good, scorching hot shower will have to suffice.

Now, you are a hard worker– however, you also like to wait until the last reasonable time to start working on your project. And while you’re best friends with procrastination, stress also decided to visit you for the time being; since, again, there was not much time for you to finish your project, and so in the whole process of working on it and doing extensive research about a topic you weren’t really that interested in in the first place, you forgot to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t even notice at first– not until one day when Yizhuo glared at you with questions in her eyes from the couch, seeing you go to the convenience store at 10pm with your home slippers still on because of your distracted mind– but when you looked at yourself in the mirror after arriving from school today, the image of your sweaty face and hair so oily you could probably fry a schnitzel on the extraction of the liquid from your follicles, you must admit that you’ve been neglecting your appearance for quite some time now, and so a well deserved annual everything-shower is the only thing on your mind right now.

Reaching over to the side of the shower that has various shelves installed, taking your hair conditioner into your palms and opening up the bottle, you get ready for the familiar smell of citrus that always hits your nose and makes you smile in satisfaction; yet, no matter how hard you try, the pleasant scent doesn’t come– and neither does the actual conditioner.

Huffing, even slapping the bottom of the bottle a few times, squeezing the tube as hard as you can– you tried everything, but to no use. Thinking back to the last few weeks, you try to remember when you bought the conditioner– because you swear it hasn’t been that long. There’s no way you already ran out, you think, as your eyes scan over the various bottles of other products in your shower, opting to use something your roommate has in stash– when you notice that there is no other hair conditioner in the shower, which makes the gears in your brain click in realization.

Sighing, you finish showering as you prepare your mental tangent in your brain. Drying off your body and slipping into your underwear, you put on the largest T-shirt you more often than not sleep in, not even bothering to put your hair up as you roughly scrunch it with your towel to get most of the water out, opting to leave the strands lay on your shoulders instead, in their full wet, naked mole rat glory.

Swinging the door to the bathroom open, you yell out the first sentence that comes to your mind– despite planning your outburst in your head beforehand.

“Ning Yizhuo! You used up all of my fucking hair conditioner again!” you scream into the apartment, knowing damn well that the walls are thin and she can hear you. “You promised you won’t use it after the last time! That shit is fucking expensive, y’know,” you mutter, voice still raised so your roommate can hear you.

“I’ll buy you a new one, chill out,” Yizhuo finally replies, her voice coming out of your living room. Your head snaps that way, feet dangling closer into the doorway.

“Yeah, well, maybe consider buying your own conditioner so you don’t have to replace mine every other week,” you spit, rolling your eyes in annoyance, “or at least buy a new one when it runs out, so I can actually use– oh.”

Stopping mid-sentence, your sudden outburst of anger is cut short as you notice another presence in the living room. There’s a man sitting on your sofa, his head turned towards you, flashing you an amused grin, and when his eyes scan you from head to toe, you’re suddenly painfully aware of your current state– only in your panties, with your hair wet, appearing as a chicken left outside in the rain, the wetness of your locks most likely dampening the thin fabric of your shirt to the point that it’s basically see through, revealing more to the stranger than you’d like. Crossing your arms at your chest, alert, you feel heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes jump from your roommate to the stranger in your living room, textbooks and an opened laptop scattered across the coffee table, making you believe it must be your roommate’s classmate of some sort.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she sighs and rolls her eyes, looking at you with amusement when she notices your distressed state, “this is Jaemin, by the way. We’re doing a project together.”

Humming, you look at the man again, taking a notice of his casual, yet attractive demeanor. Black bangs falling into his eyes and Adidas joggers hugging his legs, you press your lips into a thin line– somewhat resembling an embarrassed smile, before you slowly walk out of the room for the sake of their privacy and also your dignity. “Nice to meet you,” you mumble on your way out, “I’m Y/N.”

And before you’re out of the door, you turn your head towards your roommate again, biting back an ironic smile. “How nice of you to notify me that we’ll have guests over!”

With that, you’re out.

You guess that embarrassing yourself in front of Na Jaemin is how life is going to go now. Don’t get me wrong– the next time it happened, you were notified of his visit; after screaming at Yizhuo about how she handled it the last time around– and you even put some effort into your appearance, as if to balance the absolute atrocity he had to deal with the first time he laid his eyes on you. Not that you really care about his opinion, or that you want him to think you’re at least a little bit attractive, of course. You’d say this is just the basic human need to look presentable in front of people you don’t even know that well.

While you were notified about the fact that he would come over in the afternoon to work on the project, you still didn’t have it in you to just casually walk over to the living room and hang out with them, though. On top of that, they were doing a project in Neurophysiology together– and no matter how much laughter and noise you heard from the living room, where the two crashed for the time being, you still didn’t think it was okay for you to intrude to say hi to the man, or find enough courage to just hang out in the room with them, enjoying their talks and quarrel. It wasn’t the same as when you were doing a project with Minjeong from your Biology class or when Yizhuo had a few assignments to do with your mutual friend Jimin, the three of you working on your own stuff in your spacious living room, while also talking gossip and laughing about the latest fashion trends on Tiktok together.

But sitting in your room on a Wednesday evening, completely alone; because your roommate was busy working on a project and none of your other friends– not even the online ones– were there to entertain you with their talks, you had nothing to do. The only thing you could come up with while trying to entertain yourself was to watch the latest season of The Great British Bake Off, your legs swiftly moving you towards your table, where your laptop lay untouched, opening it and turning on the show.

Everyone knows that feeling of desiring something they see on the screen of the show they’re currently watching, right? The feeling only intensifies when it comes to food– delicious food, on top of that– and suddenly, you’re no stranger to the cravings in your stomach as you watch the contestants cut slices of cakes and taste the sweet, tasty pastries and doughs. Maybe you could look around your room and find something to eat to satisfy those needs, but something is telling you that the secret stash of M&M’s you had hidden in your room, away from the eyes of Ning Yizhuo– the resident M&M lover– was now long empty, the image of the packaging thrown in the trash can now vivid in your brain.

But the more you keep watching, the more you crave something sweet, and you know that if you don’t stand up from your place at the table and walk over to the snack cupboard in the kitchen, you’ll go insane. And with this knowledge, you take a deep breath in and out, trying to find some courage in you to show your face to your roommate and her new friend; your hand is soon on the door click and you almost watch yourself from the third perspective as your socked feet stumble out of the safety of your own room, bringing you towards the living room where the two of them have been sitting, intending to pass by them and silently take some sweets from the kitchen.

“Hi Y/N!” the man greets you, almost making you jump up and bump into the TV on the right side of the living room. Na Jaemin has a contagious smile on his face, and while you vividly remember greeting him when he arrived, just seconds before closing the door to your room, you still greet him again, trying hard to maintain the same amount of enthusiasm as him.

The conversation doesn’t progress much from that, the two of them too busy reading some article on Yizhuo’s laptop that’s currently sitting on one of each of their thighs, rimmed glasses adoring your roommate’s face, and you allow yourself to complete your mission as you walk over to the kitchen that connects to the room.

Reaching over to the kitchen cabinet that is designated to hold all sorts of various snacks both you and your roommate love to eat and share on movie nights, you search over the stash and try to find something that fits your cravings perfectly. Eyes scanning over Skittles, some chocolate bars and even a bag of chips, you decide to take all of them– because you never know, sometimes you have the strange desire to chase down the sweetness with some salt– and also look over the room for a drink you could take with you, since you’ve gotten a bit thirsty over the course of the last few hours you spent camping in your room.

Holding all of the items in your arms, looking as if you’ve just done a grocery run and forgot to take a bag with you, you almost don’t see the floor below your feet as you walk– no, scratch that– you literally do not see the ground below your feet at all.

We mentioned you embarrassing yourself in front of Na Jaemin again at the very beginning of this scene. You may be wondering where that part comes to play– and let me tell you, the moment is now, and it has correlation with the sheer fact that you can’t see where you’re walking and you’re also rushing to get back to your room quickly, hide yourself away from their eyes and finish the episode of bake-off while munching on the party mix of snacks you’re planning on creating.

In your true fashion, considering all the variables of the situation you found yourself in right now, the ground is suddenly swept from beneath your feet as you trip over the door sill that separates the kitchen from the living room, your body falling to the ground with all the snacks in your hands and the bottle of Diet coke secured under your shoulder.

Desperate to keep the snacks intact, you don’t even drop the bag of chips to the floor before you fall to make some room in your palms to try to soften the fall. No, you fall down like a rag doll, face first to the laminated floor, the sound of your body hitting the ground resonating through both your brain and the whole apartment. A few seconds later, the sound of a bottle rolling across the length of the living room fills your ears and you feel a sharp pain in your side, the humiliation and growing stinginess in your knees fully hitting now, when the shock is gone.

A few seconds pass, with your body lying limp on the ground– not even from the pain, just from the sheer embarrassment of the thought of facing Na Jaemin again after this– and a sound of your roommate trying to bite back her laughter fills your ears when you finally wake up and wiggle a little on the floor, trying to get up. At least the bag of chips stayed intact, you think– all of the effort was worth it in the end… or at least you hope.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” the now familiar voice of Na Jaemin fills your ears, and while he does sound a little concerned, laughter fills his voice when the touch of his hand lands on your elbow, trying to help you stand up from your fatal position.

“I’m perfectly fine, yeah,” you nod as you suppress back a scowl, the amused look that meets your eyes once you turn your head to face your visitor that took it upon himself to help you up making you feel all sorts of emotions– humiliation, however, is winning by a mile.

“Are you hurt?” he giggles out, and the question almost sounds mocking with how his face breaks out into a pained scowl, seemingly trying to hide the clear grin wanting to settle on his handsome face.

“No,” you shake your head vigorously, tears rimming your eyes from the mix of embarrassment and the sharp stinginess in your knees– you’re sure there’s gonna be a big, purple bruise forming on your legs by tomorrow morning. “I’m okay.”

In that very moment, Yizhuo finally breaks out into laughter– as if she was really waiting for you to stand up, in case you fell dead and she would then have to feel guilty for laughing at your falling corpse– and the absurdity of it all makes you join them, the caring man no longer trying to bite back his amusement either as he softly brushes his hand over your arm before he leans down and picks up the bottle of coke that rolled all the way to the corner of the room and the pack of Skittles that managed to fall from your strong grasp.

“Here you go,” he says, shaking his head at you when he sees you still holding the bag of chips to your chest. “Damn, you guarded those chips with your whole life, didn’t you?”

Nodding, you snicker. “I put my whole life on the line for these.”

Accompanied by their amused giggles, alongside with Yizhuo’s pained sigh as she wipes her cheeks from the stray tears you caused with your comedic fall, you take the snacks Jaemin’s offering you, thanking him for the help as you escape the room with a final bow to end your performance.

“I was glad to be your fun little commercial break, but I’ll get going now,” you say, “good luck with the project!”

And with that, you disappear back into your room, setting your mind to never ever show your face in front of Na Jaemin again.

While you thought your resolution of never ever wanting to see Na Jaemin again out of the embarrassment your first and second encounter cost you, it seems to be that it’s easier said than done when you end up in Liu Yangyang’s basement, the whole place smelling of weed and cheap alcohol, standing right opposite of the man that haunts you in your darkest nightmares only a few days after the initial meeting.

There is a reflex in you that makes you want to turn on your heel and hide, maybe even bury yourself alive as you recognise the raven-haired boy, his bright grin making your stomach twist uncontrollably as he comes up to you and Yizhuo, a red single cup in his hand and a leather jacket adorning his shoulders. Something inside of you is telling you to get ready for the worst possible outcome of this situation, and you don’t know why your fight or flight instinct is so alert today, but you presume that Na Jaemin just has that effect on people as your roommate hides behind you and tries to get out of her project partner’s sight.

“Hello, ladies!” the man greets you as soon as he reaches you two– with Yizhuo still tugging herself behind your figure. “Didn’t expect to see you two here!”

Smiling, although a little tight-lipped, you turn around to finally reveal your roommate– the only reason why you’re in this disgustingly-smelling basement in the first place. It’s not like you don’t have friends– you do, it’s just that most of them aren’t actually your friends. They are Yizhuo’s friends, who just happen to be your friends, because your roommate decided that because you two are best friends, she needs to drag you everywhere with her– her love language, it seems– and that’s how you always end up in the same social circles.

Her dragging you around to places also applies to her weird first meetings with guys. And while you agree with the fact that she needs to be careful around new people– men, especially– so she doesn’t get stolen for human trafficking, you’ve been to enough cringey first dates with her to know that you should start saying no to her more often. Maybe tonight was the day you should’ve started, you think– as she asked you if you wanted to go to a party with her, since Jung Sungchan invited her– and while you could argue that a party in Liu Yangyang’s basement isn’t the best place for a first date, or that there’s no use in you being there in the first place, since other people are present, you agreed; because frankly speaking, everything’s better than sitting home alone and watching Netflix. Besides, you promised Yizhuo you wouldn’t watch the new episodes of Blue lock without her, and if you were left unsupervised, you know you’d break that plea– so here you are. Even though at this very moment, you deeply wish you weren’t.

“Yeah, me neither,” you mumble as your roommate, seemingly embarrassed to be caught hanging out with Na Jaemin’s acquaintance, slowly comes up from behind you, scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment. “Yizhuo here has a date with someone, so I was forced to third-wheel,” you muse, earning yourself a slap to your shoulder from the subject of the sentence.

Jaemin’s eyes widen to twice of their original size– a shock very evident in his features– and you wish you didn’t see him so taken aback at the fact that your insanely beautiful roommate was getting invited to dates left and right, because something about it makes your stomach acid boil in a weird way. “A date with who?”

“Whom,” you mumble, nit-picky at the correct grammar.

“Huh?”

“With whom,” you repeat yourself, seeing as Jaemin shakes his head in disbelief and chuckles.

“Okay, literature major,” he rolls his eyes and averts his attention back to your roommate, the comment making you furrow your brows for two things– one, correct grammar has nothing to do with literature and two, how the fuck does he even know your major in the first place, “you have a date with whom? Because I hope it’s not Beomgyu. He lies about his age.”

Hearing a sigh escape your roommate’s lips, you watch the interaction with uttermost interest. “No,” she mumbles, “it’s Sungchan, actually.”

“You’re having a date… at a frat party?”

You chuckle at the comment. At least someone has common sense here.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Yizhuo notes, seeing as Jaemin empathetically nods at her and smoothes a hand down her back before he nudges her in the direction of the tall boy. Watching her leave, you mentally pray for her to come back and never leave you alone at a party where Na Jaemin is present– because quite frankly, you are very much okay with looking awkward in front of anyone else; be it strangers or the acquaintances slash distant friends you’ve made along the way on these gatherings– but when it’s Na Jaemin, the idea of him seeing you aimlessly walk around and try to invite yourself to conversations with people you distantly know makes you want to crawl out of your own skin and set it on fire.

Sighing purposelessly, looking around to see if you recognise anyone that you could find a safe harbor in at least for a couple of hours before you look for Yizhuo again and drag her home, you notice the boy not leaving your side. Locking your eyes with him, you hear him clear his throat before speaking up again.

“It’s actually so good to see you here, because we were about to play beer pong and you’re just the person I need for my team,” he says, offering you his signature grin.

Finding the last bits of your sanity, you shake your head. “Oh, you don’t want to play beer pong with me.”

“Why?”

“I’m no good,” you admit, scratching the back of your neck, “I’m like, the least athletic person in this room. And I also can’t handle my liquor well.”

Jaemin only rolls his eyes in annoyance at your comments, gently shoving you towards the direction of a large ping-pong table in one of the corners of the spacious basement. The game is already prepared, a pair consisting of a tall, ripped man with an adorable eye-smile and a person that gets introduced to you as his best friend waiting for someone to join them.

“Come on, I bet you can outdrink me,” Jaemin jokes, basically forcing you to the game as he hosts a ping-pong ball into your hold, looking at you with expecting eyes.

This evening is the moment where you learn that Na Jaemin is a man of many talents; the first one you find is his irresistible puppy look that makes you comply with everything he says. You don’t know how people have it in them to say no to him, but when he’s ushering you to take the first shoot towards the cups on the other side of the table, you only nod and sigh in the image of what’s gonna be your hangover in the morning.

Leaning back a little, feeling like a true Lebron James about to take his winning score, you aim for the plastic cups and throw the little white ball into space. You haven’t even taken a drink yet, but the ball goes where it wants and not where you want it to go, the small object hitting the floor instead, making your companion shake his head at you and click his tongue.

“I told you I’m bad,” you defend yourself, throwing your hands into the air in a defensive position.

“All good with me,” Jaemin grins, “I’m like, the least competitive person in this room. So as long as neither of us end up throwing up in Liu Yangyang’s backyard, I’m okay with losing this game.”

Rolling your eyes at his nature, refusing to relax even after his roommate Jeno– the boy on the other side of the table– scores and hits two cups in a row, each one of you drinking one, the bitter taste of beer falling down your throat, you find the second of Na Jaemin’s many talents. It’s playing beer pong– and even though he almost never misses, your opponent’s side is much quicker with their game and you end up drinking most of the cups in an apology for being so shitty at the game.

“Come on! You can do it,” you hear Jaemin cheer for you from beside you, your glossy eyes scanning over his figure. You’ve drunk quite a lot now, your distance-assuming abilities thrown out of the window as you reach back to throw the last shoot, body getting out of balance and threatening to meet the ground in the laws of gravity.

Jaemin’s hands quickly shoot up to steady you, a hesitant hand reaching to your waist as he giggles in your ear, and suddenly, you wonder if it’s been this hot in the room the whole time, when your hand lets go and the ball falls carelessly to the middle of the table.

And when you take at least two shots with Jaemin and his roommate, the game long forgotten as you two lost, you find yourself in Liu Yangyang’s backyard, Na Jaemin’s talent of being an absolute gentleman shining through as he holds your hair back for you when you throw up into the bushes.

“Okay, so… you can’t outdrink me. Noted,” the man hums, a gentle pat to your back sending shivers down your spine.

And with that, you swear you’re never going to show your face in front of Na Jaemin ever again. For the third time, yes.

At least the third time’s the charm…?

The sun greets you in the morning with an aggressive shine to your eyes, reminding you of the actions of yesterday evening slash very late night. There’s only one reason why your blinds aren’t shut in the morning, since you hate waking up to the hot beams of sunlight in your eyes– they always make you sweat and don’t let you continue in your quiet somber– and the reason is that you must’ve been too drunk yesterday to remember to close them.

And sure enough, once you open your eyes with a grunt and tumble in your sheets, the memories of yesterday evening flood into your brain the same way water did to your room when your ex-roommate Yeri forgot to turn off the water in the bathtub in your Freshman year. You decided to not live with the girl since, and you also quite loved the idea of not having a bathtub in your new place with Yizhuo; at least it meant that the chance of your roommate forgetting to turn the faucet off and flooding the apartment was significantly lower– you could say this experience gave you some sort of PTSD.

When the sunlight gets too hot on your back that you can’t handle it anymore, you open the window to let some fresh air in and stumble into the kitchen, ready to drink a glass of water and forget about the last night’s party. You don’t usually drink that much– because god knows you don’t need a lot to get tipsy– but getting caught up in a drinking game was definitely your first, and while you found it quite fun at first, you would’ve never allowed yourself to play if it wasn’t for Na Jaemin, your roommate’s project partner, dragging you into this mess.

At least Yizhuo is a good drinker, for the most part. She gets drunk, but stays responsible. You don’t know how you’d get home safe if it wasn’t for the responsible girl by your side.

The sight that meets your eye in the kitchen is one you would not want to see after a night out. The sink is full of dirty dishes– because your small apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher– and when you open the cupboard for an empty glass to fill with water, you find it empty, all of them used and unwashed in the silver basin.

Heaving out a sigh, you shake your head in disappointment and get mentally prepared to do the dishes. Reminded by the fact that it was you who cooked dinner last night before heading out to the party, it was Yizhuo’s turn to wash up– you two agreed on this arrangement to make sure everyone puts a hand in when it comes to household chores. If one of you is cooking a shared meal, the other one cleans up. It was a good deal, you got used to it fairly quickly, but still, your roommate has her flaws, and sticking to the rules you two made up together is surely one of them.

“Yizhuo! It was your turn to wash the dishes last night!” you yell out, not really caring that she’s most likely still asleep, as you turn on the faucet and get to work. While it was your roommate’s turn to clean up, you’re also not willing to wait for her until she gets up from bed and decides it’s a good time to complete the task, because truth be told, you really need some coffee right now and you only have two mugs in the whole apartment– both of them sitting at the bottom of the sink, dirty with last night’s tea.

“I know we were in a rush to get to the party, but for god’s sake, if you had the audacity to be all up in my ear about how I’m taking too long to get ready, you could’ve used up that time to wash the fucking dishes, man!” you continue your small tangent, your slight anger issues getting the best out of you as you scrub the oily pan. “Now the food’s stuck on the plates and it won’t come off! I’ll quit cooking for you if you don’t clean up, I swear to god!”

Sighing a little, you turn the water on and finally get to washing off the dish soap, shaking your head a little in both disbelief and unpleasant emotions filling your insides. This is not how you imagined your day to go, and soon enough, your stomach is growling with the need of food– you two have slept in until lunchtime– and you still don’t have either the energy to cook something again, or the appliances to do so. Hearing footsteps fill the small room, not bothering to even look at the source of them, you decide to continue your little rant with the premise of your roommate finally listening to it now that she’s present in the room.

“Fancy seeing you here, dear Yizhuo,” you mutter under your nose, irony filling your voice, “good to finally see you in the kitchen, now that I’m done with the dishes,” you grunt, turning the water off and wiping your hands on the kitchen towel that’s been hanging off the counter.

“Man, living with you must really suck, Ning,” you hear a male voice joke, the familiarity of it making you jump in your place as you look at the source of it, a little bit panicked.

His face looks fresh and lively– not a sign of last night’s drinking in his features– and his hands are full with two bags of takeout that he swiftly sits on the table, his figure now awkwardly standing in the corner of the room. Yizhuo is leaning on one of the chairs, eyes a little empty and tired, as if she has just woken up from deep sleep, her hair a mess on the top of her head and her pajamas still on. God knows neither of you look ready for a visitor– a male one, on top of that– and yet, there is still one standing in your kitchen right now, voice sing-songy and body dressed in athleisure, as if he’s just came out of his morning gym session.

Which he probably has. He seems like the type.

“What are you doing here?” Yizhuo beats you to the question, your eyes jumping from her figure to your morning– well, lunch time– visitor.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? We’re working on our project today, Yizhuo, that’s what I’m doing here,” the man complains with an offended pout, almost a scolding tone to his voice that makes you look at your roommate with shock in her eyes. She knew she’d be hungover today and still chose to work on the project? Is she truly out of her mind?

“I swear we didn’t have it scheduled for today, Jaemin-” she sighs as she straightens her back and looks at the male with irritation and a hint of exhaustion before he jumps in and shakes his head in disapproval.

“We did, I swear to god! You just forgot,” he shakes his head, satisfied when the girl is left speechless in the kitchen, his eyes drifting to you before he smiles and moves closer to the kitchen table, opening up the boxes of takeout and offering you a proud nod. “I knew you two would be tired today, so I brought some chinese with me! We can have lunch and then get right to working!”

The enthusiasm spreading off his features is almost contagious– you swear it would be, if it wasn’t for the fact that your head was severely aching and you still haven't had a single sip of water since you’ve woken up. Jaemin scrambles through your kitchen, totally uninvited, but also unstopped, until he finds some chopsticks and cutlery in one of the drawers and then puts them all in the middle of the dining table, acting as if he was at his own house, and not in a place he’s been to three times, including this one.

“Well? What are you waiting for? It’s gonna get cold,” he chirps as he sits at the table and dives in one of the boxes, humming in satisfaction as the food hits his tongue.

Staring at the male, still not quite believing your eyes, but no longer feeling as humiliated in front of him when you realize that you embarrassing yourself in front of him is your habit by now, you only opt to a sigh as you sit at the table and taste the chinese, the noodles falling down your throat finally providing some comfort to your upset stomach. Jaemin smiles at you– the kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up into small moon crescents– with his full cheeks on display when you meet his eye, seemingly satisfied with his mission.

“Fucking hell,” you hear your roommate mutter as she escapes the room, seemingly to put some more presentable clothes on. Jaemin pays it no attention as he brightens up a little, pointing one of his chopsticks your way after he swallows and speaks up again.

“And hey! Thanks to me, you don’t even have to do the dishes now!” he exclaims, his proud face on full display making you stop in your tracks when you go to tell him that’s not true, since you still have to wash the reusable chopsticks you’re both holding in your hands, afraid of bursting his bubble as you only fakely smile at the male, nodding.

“That’s… great, Jaemin. Really nice.”

Walking across the school building, you find your stomach growling once again, the relief only spreading more on your insides when you realize that the last class of the day just ended and you are headed to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. Noting that it’s Tuesday and your schedules match with your best-friend-and-roommate-in-one’s today, you swiftly walk towards the crowded space and get the lunch with your school ID card, the cafeteria lady looking at you with a wobbly side-smile you only recognise to be her customer service demeanor washing off after the long day. Thanking her and scanning the room with your eyes, you quickly find your roommate waving at you from the corner of the room, calling you over with the motion of her hand. You’re actually excited to see her, until you notice another figure sitting right next to her– the figure being none other than the intruder of your home peace for the last few weeks.

You’re seeing Na Jaemin quite a lot lately, you realize, and it’s not even your project partner to begin with. Not that you mind, of course; he’s a nice guy, a good-looking one as well, to say the least, but there’s just something about his constant close proximity to your roommate that makes your stomach drop whenever you see him in her presence. This feeling has been there for a while now, and if you recognised it in you, you never paid it much attention, but with him sticking to her like glue even outside of the premises of your apartment, it almost makes you turn on your heel and walk out of the cafeteria to eat your lunch alone– daring to even say it’s the better choice, for you think you could throw up any second at the image of their enthusiastic smiles. You can’t really put your finger on the feeling– you’re not really sure how to name it, or what to think of it. You just know that the strange annoyance bubbling inside of you whenever it comes is one of the most frustrating things you’ve ever dealt with your whole, entire life.

But it’s too late to walk out of the cafeteria now, and so you choose to put up a smile and walk over to the two, sitting at the vacant spot opposite of them and get to eating.

“Hello,” Jaemin greets you, voice cheerful– does he ever feel down? –when you sit down with your tray and smile at the two.

“Hi,” you nod, “what’s up?”

“We were just talking about this thing on Friday,” he jumps in, looking at you from above his finished plate, Yizhuo nodding along to his conversation. She keeps chewing on her lunch as the man continues his speech. “My friend Taeyong’s in a band and they have a gig at the Neo bar, you know, the one in the center of the city…”

You find yourself humming in interest, nodding along to the new information. You don’t think you’ve heard about Taeyong or his band before, but you only imagine it could be fun. “Are you going?” you ask, eyes jumping from your roommate to your new acquaintance slash friend, anticipating his response.

“Yeah,” he nods, averting his gaze from you for a moment, looking to his feet for a second as he clears his throat, “you should come too,” he adds when his eyes meet yours again, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Halting a little in your movement, you look at your roommate again. See, Yizhuo is just the perfect girl you’d invite to see your friend’s band. She’s outgoing, loud, the life of the party, and also has an amazing alcohol tolerance– perfect to match the boy in front of you. There’s no reason for Na Jaemin to be inviting you as well, and you presume it’s the way his personality naturally is– considerate and warm– that it doesn’t let him just leave you out of the conversation and let you stay home. He’d probably feel too bad if he didn’t invite you, that’s all.

But the more you stare at the two, noticing the familiar way Jaemin’s body leans into your roommate’s for support, the two of them growing quite close in the process of working on the project– she even trailed into his apartment a few times to work there instead, because you had exams to study for and she wanted to leave the apartment silent for you to focus better– and the more you feel the familiar feeling deep within your chest, bugging you with thoughts resonating through your brain that tell you that you’ll just be a burden if you go and that the two of them will have much more fun together if they’re alone anyways, since Jaemin is clearly interested in your roommate. The voice in your head doesn’t leave, and you get so caught up in listening to it that you zone out, only to be woken up from your state of autopilot with a soft nudge to your shin under the table.

“So? What do you say?” he asks again, raising his eyebrows at you in question, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Oh,” you let out, hesitant as you poke your fork into the slice of meat on your plate, “I’m good, thanks. I wouldn’t wanna… you know… intrude? Or something?” you say, nodding to yourself as you’re afraid to meet his eye, opting to stare into your meal instead.

“What are you talking about? Of course you won’t intrude, I’m the one who invited you,” he mutters under his nose, tone of voice close to a mother’s scolding, insistent on his words. “Come on, it will be fun!”

“Really, I-” you open your mouth to decline again, when the male sulks in his seat and turns to your roommate for help.

“Yizhuo, help me, would you?” he grunts. “Tell your roommate this is the best idea you’ve ever heard, maybe she’ll listen to you, since she clearly doesn’t trust me.”

Snickering at his offended pout, you roll your eyes in mock annoyance when your best friend finally speaks up for the first time since you sat at the table, now finished with her lunch and free to talk to you both. “I think it would be nice, Y/N,” she says casually, nodding, “besides, I bet the band guys will be hot. Maybe Jaem can hook us up with one of them, what do you say?” she says, looking at him with a teasing glint in her eye, dismissed by the male with a scoff and a wave of his hand.

“You wouldn’t want that,” he mumbles, “not saying they’re not hot, but they’re insufferable. And a little bit stupid.”

“You say that about your friends?” you grin, seeing as the male shrugs to himself.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “hanging out with them makes me feel better about myself.”

Giggling at the remark, you finish your food and stare at him with dumbfoundance in your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Na Jaemin.”

“Mhm, whatever,” he hums, grinning, before he looks at the screen of his phone and his face scrunches up in horror. His figure stands up in hurry, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before he looks at the both of you, eyes drifting from your roommate to you in a sharp 0.2 second interval, pointing a finger at your sitting body. “I take it as I’ll see you there. I have a class in literally 5-” he says as he looks at his phone again, “no, 4 minutes, so I better get going. I’ll text the address to Yizhuo in case you two can’t find it, and don’t even think of not showing up, okay?”

Sighing in fake annoyance, you shake your head in disbelief as the man strides off, black hair flowing in the breeze as his figure jogs out of the crowded cafeteria.

You’re starting to think that Na Jaemin is actually the insufferable one. But as he made it clear that he might get mad at you if you don’t go, even though it might make the annoying voice in your head only scream at you louder if you see him and your roommate sway in the cigarette smoke, dancing together in the local bar, you take a mental note to check your journal and see if you have any plans on Friday, and if you do, to quickly cancel them.

The mental image you had of the concert in your head was mostly right. When you arrive at the local bar at 9 in the evening, the whole place is filled with cigarette smoke and the loud noise of guitars is making your ears ring a little when you try to listen to the lyrics. It’s not really your cup of tea, but the lead singer looks nice– you heard some girls in the front screaming his name; Yuta, if you weren’t wrong– and you find yourself dancing along to the beat of songs you’ve never even heard before.

Everything’s just like you imagined– smiley, flushed faces in the crowd, sweaty bodies pressed against each other in the small space that the bar provides, everything just perfect to scare a person with claustrophobic tendencies. Everything except from the small voice in your head telling you that you’ll be the third wheel tonight was right, and you find yourself thanking whatever inner motives that lead you to agree with Na Jaemin’s invitation, because when the small break the band had ends and you down the beer he bought for you and Yizhuo, the male is, to your surprise, tugging you to the dance floor. This is not really second female lead of you, you think as you sway under the neon lights of the bar; and you can’t say you hate it.

“Please tell your roommate to not get on with the boy she’s currently dancing with when you two get home,” Jaemin mutters into your ear through the music, and suddenly, the illusion’s over. Of course his eyes would be on your breathtaking, wonderful roommate– there was no way you’d have his full attention while he dances with you, no matter how much effort you put into your appearance tonight. You don’t know what it is that makes you finally admit to yourself that you’re endlessly yearning for male attention and validation– especially Na Jaemin’s, the casual heartthrob’s– but you’re willing to say it’s the effect of alcohol as you furrow your brows at him and lean closer to his face to hear him better as you two talk over the loud set.

“Why?”

“He’s insanely stupid,” he says, snickering, “and I also think he’d love to move into your apartment the first chance he gets. I’m pretty sure his roommate kicked him out last month because he wasn’t paying rent.”

“Well, aren’t you at our apartment all the time as well?” you squint at him, seeing as the male rolls his eyes at you in mock annoyance, the teasing getting to him.

“That’s because I have to,” he insists, grinning under the blue light shading his features, the hue making him look like he was cut out of a teenage movie.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the gossip, you find yourself yelling over the music again. “How do you even know all of that?” you ask, desperate to know the source of all information there is about the men on your campus.

“His roommate told me himself,” Jaemin says, “I used to play soccer with him in high school.”

“You have too many contacts,” you mutter, seeing as the male shrugs at you, taking your hand in his as he twirls you in your place, the music blending into a slower rhythm, the melody more solemn and relaxed.

“What can I say,” he grins, “I’m irresistible. Everyone wants to be my friend.”

Not even having a chance to reply a snarky comment back to him, the male suddenly brings you closer to him, taking all air out of your lungs. His strong arms are now pressed around your middle, causing you to almost automatically sneak your arms around his neck– you truly don’t know what brought you to these actions, you think it’s you working on auto-pilot after doing competitive dancing for 5 years when you were little that makes you get into position almost immediately in fear of your instructor screaming at you– and the neon lights now start slowly flashing through various colors, reminding you of disco balls you have at middle school formals. The lead singer sings a romantic song, his raspy, yet unique voice cutting through the speakers right into your poor, fragile heart, and Jaemin steps with you into a loose dance, just two bodies swinging to the music, catching their breath after jumping around to the rhythmic beats for so long.

In a moment full of embarrassing self-indulgence, you look at the boy with long eyelashes staring down at you, and you wonder if he finds joy in your company. He is that type of guy you’d naturally gravitate towards– charming and nonchalant, extremely charismatic– but you, you are the exact opposite of those qualities. Socially awkward and embarrassing with your antics, thinking too much of words to say before you speak to someone, tense shoulders giving you in as you look nervous with every new person you meet. You’re not the type of person Na Jaemin would voluntarily want to hang out with– your roommate is the one he should be dancing with right now, swaying to the slow beat.

And maybe he would be, if that other guy wasn’t faster than him at earning her attention.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, leaning in closer to your ear, because even though the song is slower, it’s still as loud as the previous ones. Shivers run down your spine when his breath fans your heated skin, and you find yourself nodding in response.

“It’s fun,” you mumble, seeing him grin.

“See? Told you,” he sighs, “and you didn’t want to go!”

“I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, that’s all,” you say, smiling at his warm eyes. The thing about Na Jaemin is that he looks at everyone with eyes reminding you of pools of warm honey– with such a welcoming gaze it makes your knees buckle from the sweetness. He looks at everyone with such care it makes them think they perhaps mean the whole entire world to him, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to think something more of the situation when his eyes meet yours and your eye contact is a battle of symphony. Because he looks at everyone like that. He looks at Yizhuo like that, that’s for sure.

The man gently leads you into another turn, an amused giggle escaping his lips when you clumsily get back to his arms. You open your mouth to talk back to him, but before you manage to find words worthy of a good jab, the tempo of the song gets faster again and the drums once again ring loudly in your ears, the last tune of the set bringing an enthusiastic, energetic atmosphere into the small bar.

The rest of the evening comes by like a blur– you remember Jaemin ordering you a few more beers and introducing you to the band, the lead singer flashing you a grin you can’t quite decipher in your drunken haze. Your roommate hangs from the shoulder of the man Na Jaemin warned you about, and you find yourself despising the male even though you’ve never spoken to him– something inside of you trusts Jaemin’s judgment of men, it seems (he is one of them, after all. He knows what he’s talking about).

You almost get mad at yourself for letting yourself drink too much again. It’s like once you start, you don’t know when to stop, and after all, who are you to say no when you’re not even the one paying for all the shots of alcohol? That wouldn’t be very smart of you, as a broke college student. You have to take everything that’s free, no matter how harmful to your health it might be.

Well, except from drugs. You wouldn’t take free crack cocaine even if you were offered.

But when you drink, you find Jaemin’s attention more on you– his caring eyes watching your steps when you walk, making sure you don’t trip over your feet and fall. His arms put his jacket around your shoulders when you stand outside of the club with the band, the raven haired lead singer offering you a cigarette your companion denies for you before you even have a chance to open your mouth, and his smiley face beams at you when he holds your face in his palms and asks you if you want to go home. And you can’t lie, you’re enjoying all the attention– even though it might be coming solely from the fact that he has to look after you like you’re a baby, because you pretty much turn into one when you’ve had something to drink, but still, you can’t find it in yourself to compose yourself and tune down the drinks.

You’ll worry about the guilt when you wake up in the morning. Now is not the time.

You nod to his question, though, because you must admit that you’re getting a little sleepy in your night adventures. Following him like a lost puppy, you watch him as he gathers your roommate from the bar, the three of you now walking down the street towards your block, Jaemin taking the side of the sidewalk that’s closer to the road, his careful eyes watching over your every step making you even more surprised by the fact that he doesn’t have an older sister in his family that would shape him into such a gentleman.

“Everyone, did you have fun tonight?” he asks like a kindergarten teacher somewhere towards the end of the seemingly never ending walk home.

“Yes!” you chant along with Yizhuo, giggles erupting along the neighborhood.

“And what did we learn tonight?” he asks again, making your roommate frown at the question.

“That soccer guys suck!”

“That I can’t handle my alcohol!”

You both chime at the same time, making your companion nod, satisfied by both of your answers. Something about his sweet, scolding, yet patient tone makes your cheeks hurt from smiling when you two open up the front door to your apartment, your brain focused on listening to his small pep talk. “I hope you two take this as a learning experience and never make the same mistakes again! Alcohol is bad for your liver and broke soccer guys are bad for your wallet, but don’t you worry, I’m always here to remind you of such things when you forget.”

“Yes, Mr Na– oh no the lift’s broken again!” Yizhuo whines when she walks up to the elevator, scowling at the button that doesn’t light up when she presses it, the platform stuck somewhere between the second and the third floor. Normally, you wouldn’t mind such inconvenience– you don’t go to the gym often and every time you carry your groceries upstairs, you think of it as a little workout, trying to train your brain into thinking how good your ass would look only if you took the stairs every day, but failing as you go for the lift every time it works– but tonight, drunk, dizzy and a little tired, you’re glad you don’t break into loud cries at the newly found information.

“No!” you yell out, almost falling to your knees when your roommate presses a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet– although tipsy, Yizhuo still shows much care about your neighbors, it seems. Crouching in front of the unresponding device, you shake your head in disapproval at the whole situation, suddenly feeling like the whole world is against you just because you’re drunk and have to walk up to the seventh floor.

“Come on, ladies,” Jaemin says, patiently waiting at the first step of many.

“Oh, I’m not going,” you shake your head, a pout sitting on your lips as you rest your head on the wall, “I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“Y/N, stop being ridiculous,” the man sighs, walking closer to you, but seeing as you don’t budge, he only crouches down to your level and pokes your cheek with his pointer finger, seemingly regretting inviting you to the bar tonight, “want to get on my back, then? I’ll carry you upstairs,” he asks, gentle parenting you in the process of getting you home.

And see, if you were sober and completely in tune with your emotions and thought process, you’d say no and just walk up the stairs by yourself. But that’s not your situation right now, when you’re drunk and kind of falling for your roommate’s project partner, and so you only nod at him with bright eyes and securely jump to his back, nuzzling your face into the crook of his shoulder as he walks up the stairs to the sixth floor with both of you, patient with your drunken stubbornness.

“See, girls, sometimes things don’t go as you plan. But in those situations, you have to make a new solution and try to come up with something that is going to work. Life’s a bitch and there will be many things in your way, but you always gotta find a way around your obstacles,” he mumbles somewhere between the third and the fourth floor, “the bus is late? You run to the class. You get a stain on your shirt? You tell everyone it’s supposed to be there and that it’s a fashion statement. Your friend doesn’t wanna go out with you? You bribe her with sexy band guys.”

“And sometimes,” he says again, his tone of voice slowly lulling you to sleep, “the route you have to take might be harder than the one that failed. But that’s okay, because the end goal will be worth the trouble. The lift broke? Take the stairs, because at the end, there is a warm bed waiting for you in your apartment.”

You’re not sure where all of this wisdom is coming from, or how the hell his words are still coherent after so much physical exercise and also the amount of beers he had with his friends at the bar. You’re also not sure why he’s waffling so much– you bet it’s to pass time until he walks up to the seventh floor with your body on his back,

but you bet there’s a life lesson hidden somewhere in there.

The ringing of a doorbell is an unusual sound to your ears. You never have anyone use it, because frankly, you don’t even have that many friends in the first place, and the ones that do exist and come to hang out with you in your apartment always text you that they’re in front of the door instead, like everyone in the 21st century does nowadays. You don’t recognise this as the more practical method, but it’s the one that they all use, so you’ve gotten used to the fact over the time. The only people that use the doorbell are your landlord– because he loves to come check up on your apartment from time to time and then passively aggressively mention how there's a mess in your living room– and then Yizhuo’s friend Mark Lee that she met at the bistro she works at. They started hanging out and he’s the only one that actually picks her up at the door– as opposed to all of her other guy friends and dates that wait for her in the car. You think it’s sweet; the boy always wears a shy blush on his cheeks and nervously scratches his neck when you open the front door instead of your roommate and scream at Yizhuo that her date is here– to which she tells you that they’re not dating every single time, but you actually think you’re rooting for the adorable canadian, because after the men she chose to date before, you think she’s finally getting some sense into her head.

And so when the doorbell rings again, you get mentally prepared for either of those two outcomes. You don’t think it’s gonna be Mark Lee, because he always texts Yizhuo before hanging out with her and your temperamental roommate isn’t home yet– so the only reasonable option is your landlord Jinyoung, which makes shivers run down your spine as you pick up the mess scattered all around the floor in the entry hall and throw the stuff into the big closet at the right side of the wall, making sure it’s out of his sight.

Taking a deep breath in to collect yourself before the terror starts, you open the front door and put on your best fake smile, ready to face the wrinkled face of a middle aged man in a weird tracksuit– but to your surprise, there is one more person that can still use the ringbell on the door, and it’s none other than Na Jaemin.

“Hi!” he smiles, a wide grin sitting at his face. He’s once again in his usual attire that consists of Adidas sweatpants and a mint green hoodie, the clothing acting like his default skin in the game of life, and you can’t help but let out a satisfied sigh at the fact that it’s not your landlord that you have to talk to today; although speaking to Na Jaemin after the last time you met him isn’t much easier than sparking up a conversation about the state of your rented place.

“Hello,” you drag out, humming to yourself as you press your lips into a thin line, “Yizhuo’s not here yet,” you say, trying your hardest to not meet his warm eyes.

“Oh, I know! She texted me she’ll be late, but I was already on my way, so I figured I’ll just wait for her here,” he explains, naturally walking into your apartment as if he owned the place. And you don’t stop him– because frankly enough, you don’t have it in you to do anything else. And what would you even do? Let him stand outside?

And so, even though you weren’t prepared for a visitor today– because Yizhuo still hasn’t learned how to tell you that she’ll have people over– you walk along with him to the living room and see him invite himself to sit on the couch, body sprawled out all across the soft cushions. He seems like he lives here and not you– with how awkwardly you situate yourself on the other side of the sofa (he took your side– the one you picked the first day you moved in. Neither you nor Yizhuo ever sat on the other side ever since, it was an unwritten rule) and watch as he turns on the TV and scrolls through the channels. If this was anyone else, you’d find it inappropriate, rude even, but come on… it’s Na Jaemin we’re talking about. If he walks inside of your apartment and acts like he owns the place, who are you to tell him he doesn’t?

“You must really enjoy working on the project, if you’re around so often,” you mumble out, burdened by the fact that the silence between the two of you is slowly suffocating you out of the awkwardness of it all. One would say you wouldn’t know what awkwardness and shame is after embarrassing yourself in front of the man so much, but it’s quite the opposite, actually– as if the weight of it all was just packing on to each other, creating a big, heavy mess sitting on your shoulders, not letting you breathe.

“Oh, not really,” he says, turning his whole body and attention to you, eyes perking up at the sound of your voice, “I actually find it quite boring, if I’m being honest.”

Humming in response, you suddenly start to find the whole thing a little weird. Because if Jaemin doesn’t enjoy the project– and Yizhuo absolutely despises it too, or at least she told you she did– who in them has that much enthusiasm to meet up after school so often to work on it? If you were in their place, you’d just do it all in the span of a week. Projects you don’t like get lost somewhere in the back of your brain and you only remember them a few days before the due date, quickly scattering something and putting it on paper just so you don’t fail. Jaemin and Yizhuo, however, have worked on the project multiple times a week for the last two months, which is contradicting to the nature of your roommate in particular, because you know just how much she enjoys the art of procrastination as well.

“You must be really responsible, then,” you say, thinking this is the only possible solution– Na Jaemin doesn’t like the project, but he also doesn’t want to get a bad grade in it. That’s why he’s over at your flat multiple times a month, giggling with your roommate in the living room and working on the Neurophysiology essay that requires thorough research. That’s it– it must be.

“Well, I dunno about that,” Jaemin snickers, “this is my second time taking the class, actually. I failed it last year,” he grins, leaving you to stare at him with an opened mouth out of shock, the thoughts in your brain sprinting around like an itch you can’t really get to, making you shake your head in disbelief. This doesn’t sound like the words of someone who strives to get good grades in a subject– because if you had to retake a class, you’d be glad to just pass. Getting a good grade and putting in a lot of effort would be the last of your interests, especially after failing once– you’d have so much resentment for the subject you’d actually do the bare minimum, just to spite no one in particular but yourself.

You hum at that, at a loss for words.

“Do you not like having me around?” Jaemin asks, suddenly, catching you off guard. Looking up at him, sharply turning your head, your wide eyes must have betrayed you, since your companion lets out an amused laugh.

“That’s not it,” you try to save your skin, sighing, “I’m just wondering, that’s all.”

“So you don’t like having me around.”

“That’s not what I said!” you mourn out, suddenly scared of somehow offending the boy sitting in your living room. Being completely alone with him has been an emotional tsunami so far, having you praying and manifesting for your roommate to come back soon so you don’t have to deal with the pressure anymore. One moment, he has you all curious and guessing, the other one, he has you aimlessly trying to maintain an image you already lost the first second he saw you only dressed in a thin shirt with your wet hair staining the fabric, walking out the shower the first day he met you.

“Okay, so you’re saying you do like having me around?” he grins, the teasing glint in his smile driving you crazy, the weird turmoil on your insides almost making you stand up from your place on the sofa and running up against the wall. You bet that would bring you less pain and discomfort than having a conversation with him.

“Na Jaemin, you make me want to kill myself,” you mourn, draging your hands across your face in despair. Who would’ve thought that speaking to him all alone in your apartment could’ve been so much trouble? This is not at all how it went the night of the concert, but you’re willing to say that it was the effect of alcohol that made you get through the night. You can’t drink right now, in broad daylight, though– because that would legally make you an alcoholic.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I wouldn’t be hanging around at your apartment so much if I didn’t like being around a certain someone that lives here either,” he says, matter-of-factly, as if the information didn’t just take all breath out of your lungs at the suggestion of something you pray your brain isn’t just misinterpreting in this very moment. Opening your mouth and closing it in a second, looking like a fish that’s been thrown out of the ocean and flapping around in the sand, you gape at the boy and furrow your brows, creating an ugly crease on your forehead that Yizhuo screamed at you about (she told you to stop making that face so often, because ‘it’s gonna ruin your skin and you’re gonna look old’. Like you can help it…).

“What do you even mean by tha–” you start, desperate for more explanation, when the door opens with a loud bang and your dear roommate finally marches up to the apartment with bangs sticking to her oily forehead and a frustrated frown on her face– choosing just the right moment to finally arrive, as if you haven’t been praying for this very moment for the last few minutes.

“I’m never going back to that fucking bistro ever again. Can you believe it? Lee Jeno decided to take a day off and tell everyone twenty minutes before the end of my shift, so I had to work for two more hours before somebody could come to cover him. Who even does that? Is everything okay in his brain?” she screams, throwing her bag to the floor as she walks up into the living room, finding you two there. “Why am I even asking? Fuck, of course he’s not mentally okay. And then a rush hour began and I had to serve the rudest customer I’ve ever encountered, and don’t even let me started on that fucking grandpa that complained about the fries being cold when I just got them out of the frier!”

Watching her little tantrum, you can’t help but giggle at your roommate. It’s an usual sight to you ever since she started working at the bistro, but Jaemin seems to be surprised at her temperamental outburst as he laughs at her like a maniac, watching her with mouth wide open and eyes twice their usual size, almost bursting out of their sockets.

“Don’t even try to start something today, Na Jaemin, or I’ll literally take a kitchen knife and slice your throat in half. Let’s get to this shit so I can shower,” Yizhuo says as she falls to the sofa with a loud thud, not even greeting neither of you before she kicks her hoodie off her body with an annoyed squeak.

You take this as your cue to leave– because if there is anyone else in the apartment that could be the person she can take it out on, you’re not willingly going to sit there and take her attention from them, sparing yourself for tonight.

Jaemin’s words resonate in your brain as you stumble into your room. There’s a certain someone he enjoys being around in this apartment, and when you look over your shoulder and see him with Yizhuo’s sweaty hoodie hanging off his head– you don’t dare to ask how it got there or why it was there in the first place, hearing his hearty laugh– you feel a ping close to your heart.

You don’t think you need an answer to the question anymore. How foolish of you to think it could be you.

When you went to college, you didn’t think you’d become the epitome of an average college student you see in movies and read about in Choi Minho fanfiction. Somewhere along the way, while keeping your assignments to the last possible day, living with a roommate that both gets on your nerves and makes you think you wouldn’t be able to survive without her by your side and going to more parties in a single semester than your whole entire life, you find yourself fitting all the criteria as you hang around your bedroom and get ready for what seems to be the biggest party you’ve ever set your foot in.

Your roommate is long gone now, and while you’d be frustrated by the fact that you were supposed to get to the party on your own, you don’t find yourself filled with rage when you remind yourself of the fact that this party is hosted by her cousin, Zhong Chenle, who took it upon himself to host the biggest birthday party of the century for his childhood best friend Park Jisung. Yizhuo was dragged to the big mansion to help with all the preparations, and while you sat around in class the whole morning, she spent the time with spamming you pictures of the place, coming from half-decorated to a fully, over-the-top, red solo cup crammed and loud music bearing building. The party starts at 8 and you’re set to leave in a bit, but there’s one issue that’s keeping you from hopping into the uber you’ve called for yourself– your dear roommate still hasn��t texted you the address, and with how fast the time is going and how she hasn’t replied to any of your messages since 6:25, you don’t think you’re getting a response any time soon.

And speaking honestly, you’ve made a list of rules for yourself. And you also set yourself to making sure you don’t break any of them.

Rule number one was to not get home later than 2 in the morning. Every time you do, you hate yourself for it the next morning. Rule number two closely ties with the first one, stating that you’re not allowed to get hammered. With the amount of partying you’ve been getting yourself into, you think it’s better to save your liver before it’s too late. And rule number three– however embarrassing it must sound– is that you’re not allowed to embarrass yourself in front of Na Jaemin again. Not after he had to see you half naked, collect your broken body from the ground and carry you upstairs on his back.

With how your evening’s going and you’re not not getting replies from the main organizator of the party herself, you don’t think you need the rule list at all, since it seems that you won’t even get to the party itself in the first place.

After many minutes of aimlessly scrolling through social media, dressed in the outfit you picked out yesterday, you are brought out of your dissociative episode with a ring on the doorbell. Cursing under your breath at the unwanted visitor, you open the door without much thought, the adrenaline in your veins caused by the fact that you might miss the party of the century making you not contemplate on the motion too much before you’re standing in front of Na Jaemin, unprepared and shocked to your core.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you ask, the words rolling off your tongue without much thought.

“Good to see you too!” he chants, words dipped in irony, furrowing his brows in confusion before smiling in hesitance. “Yizhuo sent me to get you to the party.”

Blinking at him a few times, the situation downing on you, a shake of your head is performed to clear your mind. “She did what?”

“Yeah, it got a bit hectic over there and she didn’t have time to text you the address, so she told me to just come pick you up. Don’t worry, I haven’t drunk yet,” he says, the explanation making you huff out at the irresponsible nature of your roommate– because truly, how much time can a simple text take– before you put on your shoes and take the bag prepared on the ground close to the door, following the man out of the building and into his car.

Sliding into the silver Toyota Auris, only a few minutes pass before you’re strangled with the reality of being alone with Na Jaemin again, and even though this is not the first time, it still gives you just the slightest kick of adrenaline. Keeping up with conversation is harder for you than you would’ve imagined, and suddenly you’re regretting the fact that you don’t have at least a tiny bit of alcohol in you to kick some courage into your skull, but as the low melody of the radio hits your ears and your driver starts to singing along with the lyrics, using a silly voice that makes you crack up, you realize that maybe, after embarrassing yourself in front of him so much, you don’t even have to feel tense anymore. Because realistically, it can’t get much worse than this.

“You look really nice, by the way,” Jaemin smiles, making your heart run miles around your ribcage. Admittedly, you did spend a few hours picking out the perfect outfit in hopes of being recognized by someone– maybe even Jaemin himself, okay, you’ll admit that as well– but the accomplishment of actually hearing him compliment you still surprises you with great measures.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat, “you- you do too.”

“Oh, thank god,” he mumbles, sighing dramatically, “I actually had to buy some new clothes, because Jeno said I can’t attend this super fancy party in a tracksuit, but you know how it goes, shit’s expensive nowadays, and this was the only thing on sale, so I grabbed it,” he explains, going on a tangent, this mannerism of his making you break into a smile, “and I can’t lie, I think I kinda rock the style and I was hoping for a compliment of two from the ladies tonight, so I’m glad to hear this from yours truly first.”

Chuckling at his rambling, you shake your head in disbelief. “I think you’d look good in anything, Na Jaemin,” you tsk, “you have that kind of face that everyone likes.”

“Oh really?” he asks, the tone of his voice teasing. “So that means you like my face?”

“I’m not everyone, you know,” you bite back despite feeling heat rising to your cheeks, wanting to take back all the words that have come out of your mouth in the span of the last few seconds.

“Now that’s hurting my feelings.”

“You care about my opinion that much?”

“Of course,” he grunts, looking at you for a split second before he parks the car in front of a big house, already popping with people to its seams, loud music overbearing the beat of the music playing in the car. The ride wasn’t even that long– you live 15 minutes away from the wealthy neighborhood, it seems– but it's still good that you got a ride, because you don’t know how long you’re gonna last in those heels you’re wearing. “I can’t trust Yizhuo when it comes to these things. I’m convinced she hates me a little.”

“Why would she hate you?” you ask, amused.

“She always looks annoyed whenever I open my mouth,” he snickers.

“She’s like that with everyone,” you mutter, even though you remember your roommate complaining about the amount of words that Jaemin can spit in a minute just about yesterday, “it’s just her resting bitch face.”

The engine turns off and you turn around in the passenger seat to gather your bag from the back seat, where you carelessly threw it in the rush of getting to the party as soon as possible. Quickly looking through its contains– because your anxiety tells you to, just in case you somehow magically decided to leave your wallet and your keys back home, despite checking and making sure they’re there at least 8 times already– you turn back towards the front, ready to get out of the vehicle when you’re met with the sight of Na Jaemin opening the door for you like a gentleman, waiting for you to walk down the imaginary red carpet, completely ignoring the nature of the party going on just a few meters away from you.

Bashfully escaping his car and thanking him on your way, you watch him lock the car and catch up with you on the sidewalk, leading the both of you to the expensive-looking building.

The song accompanying your arrival is now Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!! by Vengaboys, and although you can’t deny the lyrics may be a little bit relatable to your current state right now, you can’t say the whole scene doesn’t look like a circus in your eyes. It’s Park Jisung’s birthday party, though, so you can’t say it doesn’t have to be a bit comedic, at least– the boy is quite known around these parts of the town. The whole place is filled with people you hardly know, and with the amount of teenagers and college students roaming around, you’re reminded a little of the fair– the only thing missing is a bouncy castle, in which you could clearly imagine Zhong Chenle with his best friend, hollering like the kids they still are, no matter how hard they’re trying to deny it.

Upon walking through the front door, you are met with the realization that Na Jaemin was abducted by a tall man with a puppy-like smile and another one, a little shorter one with brown, longer hair and a leather jacket adorning his figure. His face is screaming in despair, and although you find the expression funny, you let him be with his roommate and who seems to be his friend (you swear you saw the other guy in Yangyang’s basement, rolling a blunt with the boy somewhere in the middle of the night), deciding on finding your dear roommate so you can scream at her for being so irresponsible with your arrival to the party of the century. It takes you no longer than 15 minutes before you’re met with her strawberry blonde locks tied up in her signature bun, low-waisted jeans and a white crop-top adorning her figure that’s currently turned to you with her back, and before you can stop yourself, you approach her from behind, intending to scare her out of spite and also humor.

Shaking her by her shoulders, the girl turns to you with a sudden yelp before she bursts into laughter at seeing your face. “I thought you were that fucker Johnny! I almost threw this drink into your face, you know?”

“Oh, you’d regret that very soon if you did that,” you threaten, pointing a warning finger towards her face.

“Trust me, I know,” she giggles, shaking her head, “anyways, you got here!”

“Yeah, Jaemin picked me up,” you say, showing her a tight-lipped smile.

“He… he did?” the girl asks, furrowing her eyebrows at you, confusion very clearly written on her face.

“You told him to…?”

“No, I didn’t,” she shakes her head, snickering to herself. “I just told him to text you the address, because I was busy pouring all the drinks in the kitchen and making the speakers in the living room work…” she explains, the more words come out of her mouth, the more she breaks into a sly grin, the expression making you sigh in terror, knowing the amount of teasing that will come next.

“Why are you grinning like that? Stop it.”

“Na Jaemin likes youuuu,” she sing-songs, pointing a finger towards your forehead and digging into your skin with the sharp edge of her stiletto nail. Wincing away from her touch, you shake your head at her with a huff of frustration, wondering if she’s had enough to drink for it to cause all of this.

“He doesn’t, and we both know it.”

“Yeah, that’s why he picked you up,” she nods, before she takes a deep breath in, preparing herself for the long sentence that’s about to come out of her mouth, “and that’s why he insists on hanging out strictly over at our apartment, why he carried you up the stairs on his motherfucking back, why he bribed me just to get you to go to the concert with him, and why he won’t shut up about you literally every second the two of us are alone–”

“You know the same thing could suggest that he likes you?” you huff, roaming your hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe the weird bundle of nerves growing in your stomach. “He hangs out with you all the time, not me, you know…”

“That’s ‘cause you keep hiding in your room like a raccoon, you know.”

“That’s not true at all–”

“Okay, whatever you say. He’s coming towards us right now– so don’t look around or you’ll be too obvious– and I bet 100 pounds that he’s gonna drag you away from me and suggest you two play beer pong again, or whatever.”

“Yizhuo, I need you to shut the fuck–”

But before you’re able to finish your sentence, you feel a hand land on your shoulder, your whole figure spinning towards the source of the contact, finding a grinning Na Jaemin in your rear point of view– how unexpected, really– his body seemingly full of adrenaline as he jumps in his place, looking like a squirrel high on caffeine, his next sentence making your brain short-circuit as you hear Yizhuo snicker in your right ear, a bump on your shoulder and a shove into the male’s figure encouraging you in your movements out the room.

“Normally, I’d drag you to play beer pong with me again, but if I come back to the events that occurred the last time you got drunk, I have a suggestion that’s more considerate to your liver– wanna sing karaoke with me? You’re not allowed to say no, by the way,” and before you’re able to register what’s going on in this very moment, the conversation you two had with Yizhuo keeps repeating over and over in your brain the whole time you’re by Jaemin’s side.

Curse Ning Yizhuo for making you think he could like you at least a little– because even though he sang a corny love song with you at the karaoke machine and introduced you to his friends, along with taking you off your feet in an enthusiastic hug when you two won against his roommate and his best friend at a make-shift karaoke battle (you two got a 98 point score, just saying…), there’s a simple man called insecurity sitting soundly in the corner of your brain not letting you contemplate the fact and take it seriously, no matter how hard you try.

jaem [10:21]: hi how are you feeling!!! jaem [10:21]: was wondering if u wanted to get lunch :p jaem [10:21]:not that im assuming u have a hangover bc u hardly drank yesterday but yknow would be nice idk jaem [10:22]: theres this new pancake place in town :OO

“You don’t look as bad as I expected!” Jaemin greets you as you two walk inside of the new bistro that opened not a long time ago– you only knew about it because Yizhuo hoped and prayed that the fact that there’s a new place in town will mean that less customers were going to show up at the one she’s working at, and you can’t say you don’t hate that logic. After hearing her stories about rude customers, you believe your roommate deserves a break. Working with people is hard– and as she said, you only realize just how stupid some of them can be when you truly start working in customer service.

“Ouch!” you utter out, your ego suddenly falling at the backhanded compliment.

“Not that you look bad, like, ever, I just– you usually look way worse after a party, you know,” he explains while opening the door for you and leading you towards one of the booths, the red sofas making the whole place look like a retro motorest you’d find somewhere on your way through the middle of nowhere. The polka dot walls only beg you to order a milkshake with your pancakes, and you do exactly that, feeling unapologetic in your actions. It’s not your fault– and you guess that you deserve to treat yourself to a nice chocolate swirl once in a while.

“I didn’t drink as much last night, you know,” you snicker, remembering the fact that you actually pretty much managed to stick to your rules the whole time you were enjoying yourself at Park Jisung’s birthday party.

“Should’ve dragged you to one more game of beer pong, then.”

“So you do want me to suffer, huh?” you roll your eyes at him, resting your back at the flashy red booth to get a better look at his shifting expressions.

“It’s fun to see you embarrassed when you recollect your memory, that’s all,” he admits, kicking your leg under the table in a teasing manner.

Snickering at his comment, you hide your face in your hands at the growing embarrassment. Taking a deep breath in to hide your hesitance, you look outside your window for a short moment before you turn back to him, continuing on with the conversation before the moment gets too awkward for you to bear. “Yizhuo’s still asleep, by the way. She drank too much because Chenle got a bet with her and she was sure she could outdrink him and then the Mark guy had to carry her limp body to our house last night,” you explain, “she’s the one with a massive hangover right now, that’s why she’s not joining.”

“I see you two like princess treatment,” Jaemin teases, referring to the time he had to collect you and bring you home on his back, “besides, I invited you, not her. If she was here, she wouldn’t stop complaining about her headache, and I really don’t need that energy in my life right now.”

Laughing, you move your hands away from the table as a server brings you two your plates, filled to the brim with pancakes smothered in syrup and chocolate topping. A shiny cherry is adorning the serving, and you can already feel yourself salivating at the sight, the sweet smell filling your senses as you dig in, feeling hypnotized by the food in front of you. You are a sweets lover, and while you don’t know how Jaemin managed to do that, he hit the right spot with making you join him for a sweet lunch– making you adore the man even more, if that was even possible.

“Does it taste good?” Jaemin asks, watching as you nod to him with your mouth filled– as if the sight wasn’t enough of a confirmation to him– a hum of satisfaction slipping out of your vocal cords.

“It’s so good,” you mumble when you swallow, wiping your mouth with the napkin you found at the corner of the table. “Just what I needed right now.”

Jaemin finally digs into his own plate, a bright smile sitting at his face, and as you eat, you find yourself glancing his way from time to time. After all this time, you’re finally starting to realize just how relaxed you’re truly feeling right in this moment, despite having oily hair that’s tugged out of your way with a headband and only wearing your casual clothes, being too lazy to change your sweatpants for jeans and your hoodie for a fancier top. Jaemin just has something about him that once kept you on your toes, nerves tingling all in your insides, the same thing now making you calm and appreciative of his presence. Who would’ve thought that it would only take you two hanging out together the whole time of Park Jisung’s birthday party to finally feel relaxed and natural around each other?

Watching him as he takes a sip of his milkshake, you get surprised at his disgusted face. “What’s up?”

“I forgot I hate strawberries,” he notes, scratching the back of his neck as he battles the face of discomfort spreading over his features.

“And you ordered a strawberry milkshake… because you hate strawberries?” you snicker, laughing at his face.

“Well, I ordered it for the aesthetic, I suppose, but the fact that it’s actually gonna taste like strawberries kind of… escaped my brain for a sec,” he explains, making you shake your head in disbelief at him, offering the boy your own milkshake that you have yet to take a sip of.

“Want mine? It’s a banana one. I don’t mind strawberries,” you say, smiling at him encouragingly when he hesitantly eyes the tall glass.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” you say, nudging the milkshake towards him, seeing as he exchanges the straws and sets the pink drink in front of you with a grin full of gratitude. The man takes a sip out of your drink, his eyes instantly growing wide at the taste, nodding his head and closing his eyes in pure bliss.

“Now, this is perfect.”

Giggling at his expression, you finish your plate and sit in a comfortable silence as the boy in front of you does the same. Seeing as he’s done with his serving as well, both of your stomachs full of the delicious meal, you watch him as he clears his throat before speaking up again. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“You know, the usual,” you shrug, “check up on my roommate to see if she hasn’t died in her sleep, maybe try to wake her up in a way that doesn’t get me killed… Do the chores she was supposed to do because now she won’t stop complaining about her headache, and then watch the Spiderman movies, because I saw Tom Holland on my TikTok for you page the other day and suddenly got obsessed,” you explain, chuckling to yourself.

“No way!”

“What?”

“I wanted to watch those too!” Jaemin exclaims, expression full of surprise and excitement, his face lighting up something inside of you that makes you speak before you even get a chance to contemplate your decision.

“Let’s watch it together, then!”

His face falls into disappointment, pursing his lips as he shakes his head, full of disappointment. “I can’t today, I promised Jeno to drive him to his grandma’s in the afternoon.”

“That’s okay, let’s just watch it some other day. I’ll wait with it for you,” you say, finishing the last of your milkshake, seeing as the boy’s eyes light up at your suggestion.

“But what about your plans?”

“I can watch something else today,” you say, “maybe I’ll watch something with Yizhuo, so she forgets about her grumpy mood, you know.”

And with that, the plans are arranged. It all happens so quickly and spontaneously you can’t even let yourself process your actions, your brain only waking up when Jaemin pays for you at the counter despite your protests, deep voice full of teasing telling you that it’s okay and that it’s for all the snacks he’s eaten and will further eat while he’s over at your place.

“What do you mean it’s not on Netflix?” you hush, scrolling through the app popped up on the TV, clearly not showing any signs of the Spiderman movies. You could’ve sworn you’ve seen the movies on there when you were randomly scrolling through the service one day, not really interested in seeing them, but when it’s the time for you to actually watch the series, it’s nowhere to be seen, vanished from the face of the earth. It happens quite a lot with Netflix, actually– and while google may say the movie is available, when you open up the app yourself, it’s like you’re banned from seeing everything that’s there for the rest of the world to see.

“Well, we can just watch something else, then–”

“I am not watching anything else, Jaemin, we came here to watch Spiderman, so that’s what we’re doing,” you announce, rolling your eyes in annoyance. It’s not his fault– of course it isn’t– but the way he’s willing to give up on the movie so easily is making your blood boil. You’re no quitter when it comes to movies– either you get it on Netflix, or you do some digging (doesn’t matter if it takes you more time than the actual running time of the movie itself) and pirate it online. A few ads about hot singles in your area could never stop you when you’re about to watch something your soul has been searching for the last few weeks.

“We don’t have Disney plus, though,” the man squints, seemingly at the end with his solutions.

“We don’t need those paid streaming services,” you roll your eyes, shutting the TV off and getting your laptop from the bottom shelf of your coffee table, “let’s just find it online.”

Typing in your password and opening up the browser, a few searches of Spiderman online for free later, you’re able to find at least five sites with your desired movie in it. The only thing left for you to do is to check if it has subtitles– because when you watch a movie, all your listening comprehension abilities fly out of the window, no matter how fluent in the language you are– and see which one has the best quality. Settling on an ugly looking site with three ads covering the video window and another five around the corners, you smile to yourself, noticing as your companion only stares at you in awe. The look makes you feel like you just hacked the FBI site, and judging from his eyes, he’s admiring you as if you really did just show him the doings of Anonymous, but you only roll your eyes at him and snicker as you point towards your screen.

“Now we just click through 25 ads and pop-up windows and we’re there,” you nod, motioning towards the laptop, before a sound of the front door opening makes you jump up in surprise and halt in your movements.

Seeing as your roommate gets into the hall, seemingly out of breath and red in her face, carrying her tote bag scrunched up in the palm of her hand like a sack full of dog shit instead of the fashion statement it is, Yizhuo looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and a lost look on her face. “What’s Jaemin doing here?”

The boy next to you huffs in offense, opening his mouth and chiming in his defense. “And what are you doing here? Did the three meters from the elevator to the front door tire you this much?”

“I live here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. “And the lift is broken again, so I had to take the stairs. I don’t think we had a hangout scheduled today?” she asks, pointing towards her project partner with a lost look, seemingly annoyed at herself just in case she forgot about the study session and made other plans instead.

“No,” Jaemin gets out, shaking his head, “we didn’t.”

“Oh,” Yizhuo says, eyes drifting from him back to you and then from you back to him, before realization settles onto her face as she nods. “Oh,” she repeats, more exaggerated now, “I see how it is. Inviting Na Jaemin over when I’m not around…”

Heat rising to your cheeks, you speak up for the first time, completely ready to shield yourself from her slandering words. “Yeah, speaking of that, weren’t you supposed to be on your date with Mark?”

The girl smiles at you in irony, noting the choice of words, before she runs into her room and comes out with a purse instead, dropping her things into the new bag. Before she’s out of the flat again, she pops a head back into the living room, waving at you with one last goodbye. “I just had to take a different bag, since this kept falling off my shoulder. I’ll see you guys in the evening, and please, out of all places, don’t shag at the kitchen counter, at least–”

“Your date is waiting.”

“At least I admit that it’s a date, sweetie, so in your place, I’d shut my mouth,” she recites, tone laced with bitterness, “okay, bye, kiss kiss!” she says before the sound of the door loudly shutting pierces through your ears, leaving the two of you in complete silence.

Clearing your throat, deciding to not go back to the things that have come out of your roommate's mouth, you shift your focus back onto the laptop, awkwardly scratching your neck before speaking up. “Now that’s out of the way…” you mumble, “can you please try to get the movie playing? There will be about 75 ads popping up, you just need to patiently close each and every one of them and not play the porn games, okay?”

“Why would I–”

“I’m gonna make some popcorn in the meantime, since I imagine it’s gonna take a while. Oh and also, you can’t pause the movie, because that makes the whole process repeat and we’ll have to close all of the ads again, so when it’s done, just call me and I’ll be quick,” you finish explaining before disappearing into the kitchen area.

Rummaging through the cupboards, you finally acquire the popcorn you’ve been searching for. Plopping it into the microwave and setting the timer to approximately 3 minutes, you go on a search for more snacks– sweet ones this time, since chasing down the saltiness with a chocolate bar is your favorite activity to do after eating popcorn– and getting out some bowls to put everything into, preparing the things onto the kitchen counter.

Too absorbed in the noise of the corn popping in the microwave, you don’t notice footsteps approaching you in the small room, the voice of Na Jaemin scaring you to death.

“I love these!” he exclaims, motioning to the M&M’s you just opened and poured into a bowl. His voice makes you turn back to him in surprise, adrenaline in your veins only heightening when your face almost meets his chest, his body so close to your figure you can almost feel the heat radiating off his figure. Gasping at the close proximity, you react automatically and try to take a step back from him, but your back only meets the counter that somehow does nothing to support your frame as you back up to it, making you lose your balance and almost crash into the hard surface.

Jaemin’s arms shoot up quickly to steady you, one hand landing on your hip and another one gently catching the back of your head into his palm so you don’t meet with the upper drawers of the kitchen counter in a painful thud, the soft gesture making pools of honey gather in your stomach at the action. “Careful,” he snickers at your taken-aback posture, your hands aimlessly clutching the edge of the countertop.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t appear out of nowhere, I wouldn’t almost smash my head open out of surprise,” you mumble, eyes shifting from his face towards his chest instead, the so well-known feeling of curiosity and nerves you thought was long gone whenever you are around Jaemin approaching you again in great measures, keeping you up on your toes.

He only shrugs at your expression, not really offering you any more words, a chuckle escaping past his lips almost driving you to insanity.

One of his arms– the one cradling the crown of your head– comes down around you and reaches into the sweets bowl, taking a few into his hold and dropping them onto his tongue. Chewing, with an overly-exaggerated hum of satisfaction, the man offers you the sweets and feeds you off his palm, the sugar melting on your tongue somehow reminding you of the man standing in front of you, the tension growing big in your stomach.

“You’re standing very close,” you mutter under your nose when you notice his and your thighs touching, hearing as he hums at your remark.

“Do you not like it?”

“I–” you stutter, cheeks only further heatening at the question, “that’s not what I said.”

“See,” he snickers, “I’m standing in perfect proximity, then.”

Eyes hesitantly jumping to his face, seeing him looking down at you with warm eyes and a teasing glint in his smile, your heartbeat quickens even more, slowly starting to match the rhythm of the corn popping in the microwave. His hand still on your hip, the contact of it with your clothed skin burning, you’re suddenly finding it really hard to keep your nerves down, swallowing harshly before you open your mouth to speak up or else you’re going to go crazy.

“Jaemin–”

“Can you admit that to yourself?” he cuts you off, suddenly, face curious and a little more hesitant than before. Looking at him with confusion in your eyes, he repeats the question. “That this is a date. Can you… can you admit that to yourself, Y/N?”

Blinking a few times at the strange inquiry, you stutter again, your thoughts running back and forth in your brain too fastly for you to catch up with them. “I– well, I–”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jaemin snickers again. “I was told that you’re a bit oblivious, and that I should probably be more direct with my actions, because of… obvious reasons…” he chuckles, “so if you needed confirmation, I’d think of this as a date. And the lunch we had together before as well, if that wasn’t clear enough… I originally wanted to play it more subtly, but I realized that I should maybe change my ways for you to get me, so… if you don’t want this to be a date, just tell me. I just thought I should tell you.”

Gasping at his words, you shake your head in clear disapproval, suddenly too worried about him getting the wrong message. “It’s– I was hoping… this was a date? I– I mean–”

The man in front of you visibly relaxes, giggling at your reaction. His heartfelt laughter makes the mood lighter again– the knot in your stomach loosening a little only for a bit, before the man catches you off guard with another question, his face inching dangerously close to you.

“Do you do kisses on first dates, then?”

Breath shaking, eyes shifting from his deep eyes to the plush skin of his lips, you mumble out a reply. “I mean… by what you just said, this is not really a first date, so…”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?”

Gaping into his face, you nod– barely visible, but it’s there and it’s enough of a confirmation– before your eyes are shut in expectation and his soft lips land on yours, the sweetness of candy mixing in with the saccharine nature of his personality, gentle presses to your parted mouth making your knees week with bliss. Your hands hesitantly find their place on his neck, bringing him closer when he tries to pull away, earning yourself a smile from the male that you can feel in the kiss, the knot in your stomach fully disappearing and morphing into lightness and gentle fluttering.

Feeling the man sucking on your bottom lip and gently pinching the skin of your hip that he’s still kneading in between his fingers, you squeal into the contact as he gently hosts you up onto the kitchen counter, lips attacking yours only breaking apart when the microwave goes off and you try to catch your breath in between hungry kisses.

“Jaemin–”

“Hm?” he hums as his lips occupy themselves with your jaw instead, seeing as you’re meaning to talk right now and he’s a gentleman– he doesn’t want to break your words.

“The popcorn’s done,” you sigh, his lips only reaching further down your neck, not really paying attention to anything you’re saying, only responding with a content hum of acknowledgment. Seeing as he doesn’t really care– and neither do you, honestly, with his lips so magically attached to your skin– you let yourself indulge in the action again, tugging him back towards your face by his chin and connecting your lips once again, firm kisses exchanged between the two of you as his hands stay secure on the curve of your hips.

Fingers threading into the hair on his nape, you chuckle into the kiss when he talks in between, annoying you and amusing you at the same time– since you can’t get enough of his mouth, but still find his words kind of funny. “Oh look, it only took this long for you to realize I have a crush on you…”

Tired of his teasing, you shake your head in disbelief as you decide to move your lips away from his mouth, but rather pressing them along his jaw, just the way he did only a few seconds ago, shyly, yet determinately attaching yourself to his neck, pressing soft kisses steadily in between more hungrier ones, admiring the redness of his skin when you part away from him and see the wet spots you just attacked. “Can’t say it wasn’t worth it, though,” he hums as you seemingly find his soft spot, his whole body reacting as he squirms under you and moves you so you’re back against his lips, the contact more heated and rushed.

His hand slowly teases the edge of your shirt, cold fingertips drumming across your belly, and the further up he moves, the more goosebumps appear all over your back, pressing yourself closer to him on the uncomfortable kitchen counter.

“I know Yizhuo said no shagging on the kitchen counter, but I mean…” he hums as his hand reaches the hem of your bra, “what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, am I right?”

Giggling at his comment, you momentarily contemplate to giving in to the temptation, but a loud noise coming from the living room is enough to wake you up back to your senses, the sound of the movie acting as a wake up call, causing your whole body to jump and shrug Jaemin’s hands off you; his swollen lips and flushed cheeks on your full display when you gape at him.

“The movie’s playing?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods, “forgot to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me! I explained that you can’t pause it, now we have to load it again because rewinding it does the same,” you mourn, pushing him a little further away from you so you can jump off the counter and chime into the living room, his footsteps following you.

“I mean, I thought this was much more entertaining than the movie, but okay,” he says, causing you to playfully swat him on the shoulder before you close the tab and reopen it again, shoving him towards the kitchen instead.

“Go and get the popcorn out. I’ll load it back up, since you’re totally useless at the art of pirating,” you chime, rolling his eyes at him, battling back the grin that’s threatening to settle onto your features all while you’re trying to calm down the erratic beating of your heart.

And when the movie finally plays and you let yourself settle against Jaemin’s figure on the sofa, content with his arms around your middle and the occasional comments he lets out at the scenes rolling on the screen, you find yourself wondering how after all of this, this is the way you end up with him– spontaneously and totally unprepared.

A scene of Peter Parker appears on your laptop, the man in the red spider suit shooting webs to the top of the building to get MJ into safety, making a bubbly laugh heave out of Jaemin’s throat. “I wish I had those when I had to carry you drunk to the top floor,” he teases.

“Oh shut up, you did that to yourself,” you roll your eyes, reminding yourself of the day with much despair in your memory.

“And what was I supposed to do, leave you there?” he chuckles. “Besides, I quite liked the journey. Didn’t even mind that it took so long… it made the top floor feel like a big reward, you know,” he says, and when he looks at you from the corner of his eye, his orbs warming up like hot chocolate,

you swear there’s a metaphor– hell, a life lesson– somewhere in there.

#nct #nct dream #na jaemin #jaemin #nct x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfic #jaemin drabble #jaemin imagine #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream fic

2K notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 6 months

Text

⋆｡°✩ i'll fall for you again if this keeps up

or kisses with nct dream !!

includes: soft dream, reader is implied to be shorter than mark, jeno's is maybe a little suggestive ?? brief mentions of insecure chenle, implication of overworking (jisung) tooth rotting fluff

a/n: first dream reaction :D

gn reader (no pronouns used)

MARK

mark has never felt like this before. he’s sure of it.

his gaze never leaves your figure as he watches you dance around the kitchen. you dance along to an unknown song playing in your own head; your body sways in tandem with the rhythm.

leaning back against the wall, mark takes the time to admire you. your smile is even more entrancing in the golden glow of the morning. he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks when he notices that the oversized t-shirt you’re dancing around in belongs to him. the small variety of his favourite foods spread across the counter brings a flustered smile to his face.

quietly slipping away from the hallway, mark makes his way into the kitchen. you jump slightly at the sudden feeling of his cool hands gingerly resting against your hips before you relax back against his touch. “good morning, mark,” you chuckle.

“morning,” he murmurs. his hands slip underneath the fabric of your shirt, rubbing miscellaneous shapes against your bare skin.

you turn around, raising a small piece of freshly cut strawberry up to mark’s lips. he accepts the piece of fruit with flushed cheeks. “is it good?”

mark hums, leaning down to pepper a few soft pecks against your shoulder. “it’s almost as sweet as you.”

RENJUN

this is the worst moment of his life. renjun can feel his face burning a bright red; his embarrassment is clearly written all over his expression despite his attempts to remain calm. he catches his bottom lip between his teeth, resisting the urge to dig himself a grave to hide in until he’s ready to show himself to the world again.

“aw, is poor little renjunnie embarrassed?” chenle teases, reaching over and attempting to ruffle the other man’s hair. laughter bubbles out of his chest, fading into the background along with the other members’.

renjun is quick to swat his hand away before he makes a halfhearted attempt to fix the style. “shut up,” he mumbles, though his gaze remains trained on the tile floor below.

you bite back your own smile, reaching over to reassuringly rub renjun’s shoulder. he relaxes against your touch as your friend’s laughter fades out in waves around you.

smiling to yourself as you lean in, softly brushing your lips against his soft skin. your touch is gone just as soon as its there, but even the momentary touch makes his face ignite in a furious flush.

“y/n,” renjun whines, hiding his face behind his hands.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you chuckle, lovingly patting his head in an attempt to comfort him. “you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

JENO

even though his attention remains on the weights in his hands, jeno can feel you staring at him. you make no attempts to be subtle - something that both flusters him and boosts his confidence.

your own weights lay forgotten on the ground in favour of watching your boyfriend with his workout. jeno smirks as his gaze meets yours through the floor-length mirrors of the gym. setting the weights down on the ground, he stretches his arms out to flex his biceps slightly. “like what you see?” he teases.

“maybe i do,” you smile, standing up to join jeno on his weight bench. his arms wrap around your waist almost instinctively before he pulls you down to sit on his lap.

your arms snake around his broad shoulders as you lean down. “what are you gonna do about it?” you whisper; your lips just barely brush against his skin as you press a fleeting kiss against the underside of his jawline.

the feeling sends shivers down jeno’s spine, though he maintains his confident facade despite the heat slowly spreading across his cheeks. “i can think of a few ideas,” jeno murmurs before he leans in, catching your lips against his in a kiss.

HAECHAN

you’re being bored to death. the movie that once looked interesting from the poster and synopsis continues to drag on, seemingly refusing to showcase any interesting plot points or interesting characters. you resist the urge to let out yet another sigh as you nuzzle yourself even closer against haechan’s chest.

pressing your ear against his ribcage, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating. your attention falls away from the movie completely - now fully transfixed on haechan. you reach up, trailing your fingers along his jawline. he doesn’t react, letting you run your hand along his features.

a few minutes pass before you let your hand fall back to its resting place against his chest once again. leaning upwards, you begin peppering soft kisses against his neck. your lips trail along his collarbones, smiling to yourself when you feel him stifling a laugh beneath his breath.

“baby,” haechan squirms beneath your touch; soft chuckles escape his lips. his hands ghost against your hips in a lighthearted attempt to hold your body still. “that tickles.”

you pause, shifting slightly to look up at him. haechan doesn’t fail to notice the mischievous glint in your eye as you lean down to press yet another fleeting kiss against his skin. “that’s the point.”

JAEMIN

jaemin feels miserable. his head pounds with an ever-growing headache and his body feels like someone has deliberately shaken his organs around. he almost feels like he’s suffocating between the small mound of blankets you’ve cocooned around his body and whatever is blocking his sinuses.

he watches with tired eyes as you continue to frantically circle around the room, searching for anything else to aid with his sickness. there’s a cup of tea and a newly filled water bottle sitting on his bedside table, a bottle of foul-tasting medication you had all but forced down his throat, and luna curled up on the corner of your bed near his feet to keep him company.

“do you need anything else?” you ask, kneeling down beside him.

“a kiss?” jaemin requests, playfully puckering his lips in your direction.

you brush a hand through his hair, pushing the bangs out of his face. “i can’t get sick, baby.”

jaemin pouts; a dramatic sigh leaving his lips as a form of protest. you stifle a chuckle, softly shaking your head in slight disbelief.

his eyes flutter closed when you lean in before your lips press against the tip of his nose. jaemin’s face scrunches up at the feeling before he opens his eyes once again. “i’ll give you a real kiss when you get better, okay?”

jaemin playfully huffs but nods nonetheless, unable to keep himself from smiling. “okay.”

CHENLE

you noticed something was wrong immediately. there’s a slight frown tugging at the corners of chenle’s lips and the glint in his eyes seems to have dimmed slightly. his movements look more sluggish and tired than usual. the sight makes your heart ache.

“hey,” you say, catching his attention. “what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing.” chenle shakes his head softly. “i’ve just… been a little insecure lately, i guess.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you bring a hand up to cup his cheek. you brush your thumb against his cheek in a small attempt to comfort him.

“lele.” you reach over, taking chenle’s hand into your own. his surprised gaze meets your own when he feels your lips gently brush against his knuckles. “you’re so smart,” you whisper, gently pushing him back so you can maneuver yourself into his lap. “and kind,” you lean in, pressing a peck against the junction between his neck and shoulder. “and loving,” this time your lips brush against his cheek. “and generous.” chenle’s eyes only flutter closed when you lean in, finally sealing each of your promises with a sweet kiss pressed against his lips.

“i love you,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your body. he carefully pulls you even closer until your head rests against the crook of his neck. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, lele,” you whisper. “you’re my everything.”

JISUNG

jisung feels like a zombie. he’s sure he looks like one too as he tiredly trudges into your apartment. he moves in a daze, barely bothering to kick off his shoes beside the front door before he makes a beeline towards your shared bedroom.

“sung?” you quietly enter the room behind him. jisung simply groans in response - burying his face farther into the pillows. his body lays sprawled out across the sheets like a starfish; his long limbs dangerously near falling off of the edges.

you quietly make your way over to kneel down beside him before gently placing a hand against the back of his neck. you can still feel the remains of sweat clinging to his skin. jisung shifts slightly at the contact, turning to face you. an exhausted flush stains his cheeks.

a content sigh escapes his lips as you reach upwards to gently twist your fingers into his hair. your fingernails gently massaging his scalp makes his eyes flutter closed once again. “long day?”

“mhm,” jisung groans. “the longest. i thought i was gonna die in the practice room.”

you chuckle, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. “why don’t i run you a bath?”

“that sounds nice,” he murmurs. you smile, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead. when you pull away this time, the flush on jisung’s cheeks is from embarrassment. “i love you.”

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblogging !! and if you'd like to support me, check out my nct dream masterlist <3

961 notes · View notes

lowkeychenle · 2 months

Note

HELLO MY DEAR I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A REQUEST PLEASE 🌹 thought abt this classic scenario w chenle and immediately thought of ur writing hehe so like.... a fic where y'all go to your parents' house to visit and you stay the night and chenle's been eyeing you all day and now ofc he's horny as hell and the cliche of fucking when ur parents are right next door and trying not to be heard commences 😈 bonus points when ur jokingly trying to put up a front of "noooo its so wrong" but chenle knowsss you'll fold eventually and melt bc of his kisses and be putty in his hands.... also when his dirty talk is all like "i knew u wanted this" and how ur so dirty for seducing him and doing this when ur parents are right in the next room and can hear u and he has to put his hand over ur mouth to cover the noise (when its literally his fault like 🤨) anyways i know you'll come out w something amazing as always so thank you in advance my love 💓

- mari

oh my god hello this took me thirty freaking years I'm SOOOO sorry but I'm here and I tried to write this so plzzzz let me know if this is awful :D (plz I wrote this in like an hour last night i haven't written chenle smut in so long i was going through withdrawals)

Description: You and Chenle visit your family, and things get frisky idk y'all lol this was a request :D

Genre: Smut *MDNI*

Word Count: 2,165

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Content Warnings: Chenle says pretty girl, slut, mentions of the possibility of being caught by parents, orgasm denial, a mirror is involved, teasing, yk the drill LOL it's all here yay

Juliet's Masterlist | thoughts are appreciated loll

smut below the cut!

All you wanted to do was have a seamless visit with your parents. You and Chenle were going to stay there for the weekend since you hadn’t seen your family in a while, so you figured your boyfriend would be on his best behavior. Oh, how wrong you were.

It started off simple—quick smacks on your ass, resting his warm hand on your thigh while his thumb rubs your skin. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing his attempts to turn you on are working, so you opt to ignore him completely.

It doesn’t work. He pushes and pushes your limits until you have to swat him away from you. Your last straw was when his touch trailed over to your inner thigh, up, up, up until his fingertips brushed your clothed core. You jolted so hard, you startled your parents at the dinner table. Chenle, of course, thought it was hilarious. He’d been wanting you bad all day, and it wasn’t his fault you wore a skirt.

What’s worse, is that when he was preparing to finger you under the table, he held a steady and respectful conversation with your dad. As much as you hate to admit it, the two sides of Chenle on display for you drove you crazy.

Your father leaves the table to answer an important call, and your mom chooses then to get up and grab the desert.

“C’mon, babe,” Chenle murmurs, tapping your leg. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Are you crazy? We’re with my parents, Chenle.”

He hums, dropping his head on your shoulder to easily press his lips to your neck. “I know you. You want me.”

“(Y/N), can you help me?” your mom calls from the kitchen.

“Coming!” you yell, quickly pulling yourself from Chenle and glaring at him the whole way out of the room.

You hate how right he is—how damp your panties are at the thought of him taking you here when your parents might hear. It should repulse you, but instead, you feel your entire body heat up at the thought.

Desert drags, and Chenle rubs the top of your leg where it meets your hip, back and forth while you squirm at the contact. If your parents notice how erratic you’ve become, they don’t mention it.

“Mom, did you, um, did you need any help cleaning up?”

“Oh, honey, that’s okay.” Your mother waves you off. “It’s getting late. You two have been traveling all day, we’ll get this and you get some rest.”

Chenle doesn’t even hide the smug look on his face when he intertwines your fingers together. “Thanks, I am exhausted.”

Bullshit. He wants to get you alone as soon as possible.

Next thing you know, you’re leading him upstairs to get him undressed. Although, you didn’t expect for it to lead you to your current predicament.

Chenle’s slender fingers slide into you easily with how wet you are. After teasing you all day, he’s got you dripping down onto the sheets. He moves slowly, staring at you smugly with his other hand covering your mouth. Your eyes roll back, and you fist the sheets as if that’ll stop the overwhelming need.

The walls of your childhood bedroom close in on you like yours close in around Chenle’s fingers, and everything starts to spin. He reaches deep inside, curling to find your spot. With his palm firm on your lips, your moan doesn’t make it past his skin. He chuckles, leaning close to your ear without messing with his pace.

“See, pretty girl? I knew you wanted it. Can’t stay off my cock even with your parents down the hall, huh?”

You mutter incoherently in your best attempt to spur him forward, to get him to fuck you as soon as possible, but it seems his evening of teasing is far from over. He places his thumb on your mouth instead, and you instinctively open up and swirl your tongue around it.

“Little fucking slut,” he tsks. “Can you stay quiet for me while I make you feel good?”

You nod fervently, lifting your hips to match his pace. Desperate to reach your end, you clench the bedspread harder to ground yourself. If you make a sound, you know he won’t continue.

He uses the wetness of your saliva to trail down from your mouth to your collarbone down to your breasts, watching you in a mix of wonder and awe as your nipples harden further beneath his touch. You let out a shaky sigh, but luckily for you, he doesn’t count that against you.

Despite his distraction, his fingers still brush against your spot with every steady thrust, and your mind reels from the pleasure, your orgasm just out of reach. He knows your body like the back of his hand at this point, so he’s well aware of what you need.

As he continues his venture down, the cold air sends chills all over you. He stops at your lower abdomen, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“Remember,” he whispers. “Keep it down, alright?”

You don’t have time to reassure him before he nudges your clit. Inhaling sharply, you slap your own hand over your mouth.

“No.” He grabs your wrist and pulls your arm away. “Just fucking be good, you brat. Make a noise and you don’t get to cum.”

And he continues his work, rubbing your clit in steady, perfect circles while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His self-control surprises even you, with the way he hasn’t fucked you yet. The bulge in his boxers strain, and you can practically taste the precum dripping from his tip already. You crave it so fucking badly, you almost forget you’re supposed to be quiet.

When you let out a low curse, the determined look on Chenle’s face turns to stone, and he stops his circles to land a smack on your sensitive bud instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.”

Your body jerks, tears forming in your eyes, but you nod, so close to the brink it’s like you’re already there. The knot ties in your stomach almost as soon as his thumb is back on your clit, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip hard.

You’re so close, the warning signs of your orgasm becoming far too real to ignore. Lifting your hips, you’re desperate to match his pace, desperate to cum over and over again solely from his touch.

But just before the band of pleasure snaps, he abruptly removes his touch from you, leaving you to clench around nothing. You want to whine, to cry out for his attention, but you don’t dare when he warned you already.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you.

“The floor?” you ask breathlessly.

“Ass in the air, gonna show you how sluts get fucked when they don’t fucking listen.” He grips your thigh. “Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

You leap up from your bed, eager to please the man who holds the key to your euphoria. The carpet digs uncomfortably into your knees as you arch your back, putting yourself on display for him. Your bed is much too creaky for anything other than missionary, and sometimes, even that’s enough to cause it to squeak if Chenle has anything to say about it.

His hands squeeze your ass, massaging you while he studies you. A quick smack has you shuddering again. His shuffle to take off the last of the clothing covering him is music to your ears, and you wiggle back against him to try to entice him further.

He grabs a pillow and tosses it to you, and you already know what it’s for. You take it gratefully, but you bite down on it in preparation of what’s to come. The thought of getting caught has wetness leaking down your thighs, and as he rubs his hard cock along your entrance to collect it, you’re already shaking. Being denied an orgasm already has every inch of you craving release. His tip brushes your clit, and you push back with a muffled whine.

“What if I just leave you like this?” he asks, dragging his nails along your back.

You shake your head and repeat over and over, “Please. Please.”

“How disappointed would your parents be if they saw you like this, huh? Just down the hall begging to be fucked like a whore…” He slides his tip in, his breath catching at the sensation.

Your chorus of pleas are muffled by the pillow, but you push yourself back, making him slide another inch inside you. Legs wobbling already, you ignore the burn of the carpet against your knees.

Finally, he gives you some reprieve. As slowly as he can manage, he opens you up with his cock. You whimper, eyes watering as you bury your head in the plush fabric below you, already slick with your saliva.

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” he asks breathlessly, nails digging into your hips. “One sound and we stop, got it?”

You can’t manage a response, not with the way he fills you so completely. Whatever he’s gonna give you, you need it.

The choice to move to the floor makes more sense as he gives you one reassuring squeeze to your waist. He thrusts slowly twice, groaning quietly at the feeling.

And then he really starts. His hips slam into yours, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obvious and impossible to mask. You can barely breathe while he fucks you, your body jolting and the carpet rubbing against your knees. The pillow is drenched with your spit, and you’re biting down so hard your jaw starts to hurt. He pants behind you, his tip reaching your cervix with every rough thrust.

His cock pulses inside you, like he’s ready to burst at any given second. It’s so overwhelmingly good, tears stream down your face. Next thing you know, he’s wrapping his fingers around your neck and pulling you up until your back is against his chest. He squeezes tight enough to make sure no noises will escape you, but your brain clears long enough to see his motive.

The mirror stands in front of you, displaying your body as Chenle slides in and out of you at a steady pace. He leans forward, tightening his grip on your neck.

“See the mess you made?” He licks the shell of your ear. “You’re taking me so fucking easy right now, slut. Don’t think you’ve earned the right to cum.”

Whatever escapes your lips is muffled gibberish.

“I guess I’ll be nice.” His condescending tone sends a chill down your spine as his hand dips between your legs. All it takes is the slight brush of his fingertips to send you reeling over the edge, your body jerking as your orgasm takes you full-force. He doesn’t stop there, though, applying pressure to your clit and rubbing fast. Your vision blurs as a burst of wetness soaks your thighs.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, breaking his rough facade for the briefest moment while he processes what just happened.

He pulls out of you, much to your protest, and turns you on your back. Propping your legs up on his shoulders, he slides back inside with ease, his own eyes fluttering shut. He leans down and takes your mouth with his, the stretch in your legs almost as delicious as he tastes.

“Need to see that pretty face when I cum.” He nips your ear lobe, rocking his hips hard against yours.

Mind hazy from your orgasm, you stare at him in awe as his face contorts with pleasure with every thrust. When his pace becomes erratic, you know he’s close.

He moans lowly in your ear, pushing himself as deep as possible before he spills his load. Panting, he wastes no time in kissing you sweetly, gently as he releases your legs from their uncomfortable position. He rubs your thigh, humming into your mouth.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “You feeling okay? Was it too much?”

You still can’t speak, so with a smile, you shake your head and place a hand flat on his chest.

He pulls out slowly, a shaky breath escaping his lips as he does. A sheen of sweat covers him, the gentle starlight from the windows illuminating him just enough for you to see. He stands, puts his boxers on, and walks over to grab your towel.

You’re oversensitive, and as he spreads your legs again to clean you up, the rough fabric against your clit makes you jolt.

“I love you.” He kisses your forehead in an attempt to distract you from the mess he made. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

You weakly smack his shoulder. “You did all of this at my parents’ house?”

He grins, scooping you up to help you onto your bed. “Don’t complain. The wet spot on the ground says you liked it.”

#nct dream #chenle #nct #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #chenle smut #nct smut #nct dream chenle #chenle imagine #chenle scenario #chenle x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenario #nct dream imagines #nct hard hours

123 notes · View notes

moonlezn · 7 days

Text

— espresso.

fake text!au; fluff; sugestivo (?) ficantes!dreamies emocionadinhos, querendo chamego e te ver. n/a: eu tentei (não ser mlk com vc...), não sou a melhor pessoa pra isso mas eu não posso ouvir uma música nova q tenho ideia. OUÇAM ESPRESSO DA SABRINA CARPENTER. espero q gostem, podem pedir mais mensagens falsas bjs.

#nct dream au #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fake texts #nct pt br #nct br au

88 notes · View notes

tonicandjins · 1 year

Text

eyes tell

characters: haechan/female reader genre: fluff, confession word count: 3.9k summary: donghyuck has been trying to confess his feelings to you. third time's the charm, he thinks.

Note: nothing but donghyuck brainrot for valentine's ^_^

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

DONGHYUCK KNOWS HOW MUCH YOU LOVE THE HOLIDAYS—the fairy lights surrounding every place in Gangnam, the Christmas songs playing in every corner of SM Entertainment (courtesy of every EXO Christmas album ever), the sound of kids singing Christmas carols—and he thinks it’s the best time to confess.

It’s a foolproof plan: all he had to do is take you somewhere under a mistletoe, look up and pretend he didn’t know there was one, show it to you, and VIOLA! A kiss under a mistletoe!

However, three hours into the small party the crew members threw for both NCT Dream members and the crew themselves, Donghyuck realizes it’s better said than done. He couldn’t, for the life of him, keep you in his space alone for more than two minutes. People are always pulling you from him—either to ask you to get something for someone or hand you a small Christmas present—and you are always too nice (too kind, oh, be still Lee Donghyuck’s beating heart) to say no.

Sulking, Donghyuck decides to settle on the couch, sitting between Jeno and Jaemin who are arguing about a stupid game they were playing earlier in the night. Donghyuck knows he’s pouting, and he’s pouting really hard hoping you would glance his way and kiss the pout out of his lips. Perhaps if he whines along that cute pout of his, you would hear and come running towards him and call him cute. But none of those happen because, of course, Mark Lee and Park Jisung are hogging you for themselves.

Donghyuck even wore a hoodie with your favorite color so he could catch your eyes tonight, yet here he is: stuck between Jeno and Jaemin who wouldn’t stop debating over everything and nothing at once.

It’s Renjun, bless his heart, who notices Donghyuck sulking while he watches you laugh with Jisung and Mark. Chuckling at Donghyuck’s distress, Renjun pulls him by the hand towards the small table where the sweets are.

“Let me guess,” Renjun starts as he offers a chocolate-covered strawberry to Donghyuck. Donghyuck pries his mouth open to take a bite, eyes still on you. “You’re sulking because she’s not giving you attention.”

“I wore something cute for her,” Donghyuck says while chewing. “But she won’t give me a second of her damn day.”

“It’s because you’re not trying enough,” Renjun answers. “What does she like most about you?”

“Does she even like me?” Donghyuck contemplates.

Renjun laughs, “Of course, she does!”

“Don’t,” Donghyuck whines. “Don’t keep my hopes up. It’ll break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Renjun assures. “Come on. Think about it. What does she like most about you?”

Donghyuck thinks as far as his memories allow him. You’ve told him a million times how much you like him—love him, even—and Donghyuck could only hope to become as vocal as you are when it comes to how you feel towards people.

One time, you told him about how easily he could make people gravitate towards him and how much you like his innate talent in grabbing people’s attention (which apparently doesn’t include you because here you are now, giving him 0 attention). Another time, you admitted loving how much he adores and cares for his family—specifically for his younger siblings—and you wish you had someone like him in your family (Donghyuck doesn’t want you to think of him like family, like a brother, damn it. He wants to kiss you on the lips).

Just as Renjun was about to say something, Chenle grabs everyone’s attention by testing the mic from the karaoke the crew had prepared for everyone.

“You know I love you, right?” Donghyuck remembers you asking in a drunken haze that one night you and him drank your guts out two days after his 22nd birthday. Donghyuck remembers nodding, but not truly realizing you had meant it. “I think I love you more and more whenever you sing. Sing for me please.”

Donghyuck remembers singing softly to your ears that night, and he realizes that’s what you probably like most about him.

Hence, he takes the mic from Chenle and enters the code to the first song that comes to his mind. As soon as he starts singing, he notices your attention back to his eyes. Donghyuck smiles in triumph, winking at you as he sings his heart out.

“Express your love four times a day, laugh eight times, kiss me six times,” Donghyuck sings his heart out. “It’s the only password to my heart, No one else can know it, only you can have me, you are my secret, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl!”

When it’s done, Donghyuck finally, finally sees you approaching him. Chenle takes the mic back from him and Donghyuck doesn’t even mind.

“Hello, Ms. Everyone’s Friend, you’ve finally noticed me,” Donghyuck jokes.

“Hey, as soon as you came here I hugged you,” you protest. “Not my fault all your friends like me. Hey, do you have a second?” you ask like Donghyuck wouldn’t give up anything for you.

He nods (a little too quick, a little too obvious), and lets you pull him by the sleeve of his hoodie, taking him to a small storage room, far from the noise and small crowd. Donghyuck isn’t aware of your proximity until you whisper a small hi.

“Hi,” Donghyuck says back, smiling as he look down on you, eyes locked in yours. “What are we doing here?” he whispers.

“I wanted to give you my gifts,” you whisper back. “I didn’t get the others a gift and I really don’t want them to feel upset that I only got something for you.”

“Y/N, my dear, what makes you think I’m not going to brag whatever you have for me on a daily basis?” he asks, chuckling as he watches you take a small box from your pocket of your hoodie.

“I figured you probably already have everything and this is something you can most likely afford to buy ten times, but…” you trail off. Even under the small light bulb, Donghyuck could see the blush on your cheeks.

He takes the small box from your hand, and it’s a box from a luxury brand, Donghyuck suddenly realizes he didn’t get anything for you for Christmas. He opens the present, and it’s that famous Thomas Trench bear bag charm from Burberry.

“He reminded me of you,” you mutter shyly. “You can put it on your hand carry bag whenever you travel. I mean, you’re going on tour with NCT 127, and like I said, it’s nothing big, like I said, you could probably buy this ten times, like I sai—”

“Y/N.” Donghyuck is going to kiss you now. He wraps an arm around your waist, caressing your back as he pulls you close.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper. You look up. Donghyuck does, too, and who would have known? A mistletoe right above the both of you.

Just when Donghyuck is about to lean in, of course—of fucking course, Park Jisung.

“Y/N noona, Renjun is about to sing your favorite song, aren’t—am I interrupting?”

You jump back from Donghyuck’s arm, looking at Jisung, then at Donghyuck, then back to Jisung, who’s still holding the door open.

“No, no,” you stutter a few seconds later. “I’m coming.”

You don’t look back at Donghyuck and follow Jisung.

Park Jisung is so going to get beaten up.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

His second attempt came out of nowhere, unlike the first time he decided he’d confess and finally ask you out.

Donghyuck is in the hospital, and he feels like it’s the shittiest day of his life because it most likely is. They were in the middle of a schedule promoting Candy, and just when the music show was over, Donghyuck’s body failed him. His chest started hammering like crazy, and he had always thought this was normal because it happens to him all the time, until it started to hurt and his body started shaking unceasingly. The medics were quick to get to him as soon as Mark shouted for help. Donghyuck doesn’t really recall much of what happened; all he knows is that his body just collapsed and Jeno and Jaemin helped carry him so he could be transferred to a stretcher and that Renjun was on his phone already calling his Mom, probably because he knows Donghyuck would want them to call his Mom.

When Donghyuck wakes, hazy from the oxygen and the dosages of medicine they’d put through his dextrose, feeling adhesive patches stuck on his chest, he sees you sitting beside him. You’re on your phone, and you quickly bid goodbye to whoever you were speaking with as soon as you see him open his eyes.

“Donghyuck, baby, how are you feeling?” you ask, holding his hand. Donghyuck’s throat is dry so all he could muster up is a nod. “Your Mom and sister went out for a minute to get something to eat. I’ll call the doctor real quick.”

Before you could stand, Donghyuck reaches out to weakly grab your wrist, keeping you still on your seat.

“What is it, my love?” you ask. The influx of nicknames is making his heart hammer against his chest, and it’s proven when the cardiac event recorder starts beeping like crazy behind him. “Donghyuck, calm down. They’re trying to stabilize your heartbeat. I’ll call the doctor.”

“I love you,” Donghyuck barely whispers.

“Oh, baby,” you softly coo. “I love you, too. Now please let me get someone to check on you.”

Donghyuck can’t remember much after that. He could hear his Mom nagging in his ear, something about pacing and how he should really calm down. His sister was just whining in the background, saying that the expensive shit he buys for them aren’t worth it if it means they find him in the hospital multiple times a year. He reckons it’s the dosages of medicine that makes him hazy, but everything else are all blurred and toned down. While he lies on bed, high on oxygen, all he could see clearly is you—the worried look on your face and just the way your eyes are glued to him—and all he could think of is maybe love isn’t all about a big, grand confession one makes an effort to prepare for.

Perhaps love can be as quiet as the way he said I love you, hand weakly holding your wrist, voice barely audible. Perhaps love can be as simple as being there on days as quiet as this.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

The third time Donghyuck musters up the courage to tell you about his feelings is about two months later, when NCT Dream just won the grand prize for a prestigious awards show.

He finds you in the crowd as they perform, and you’ve always been the kind to easily blend in the crowd, wearing your usual crew fit, a lanyard with your ID labeled as NCT Dream’s staff allowing you all access to wherever he is, but Donghyuck’s made it a habit to make sure you know that you stand out whichever crowd you try to blend in. Tonight, Donghyuck winks exactly at your direction when he sings the words to their hit songs, and he does it multiple times, making sure you’re as affected as he is whenever your presence is within a mile radius.

They’re on their way back to the dormitories. Tonight, Donghyuck is staying at NCT Dream’s dorm and will most likely share a bed with Jisung. He had a schedule the next day for 127’s fansign, but he doesn’t have much energy left and would rather share a bed than go back to the other dorm.

You sit on the back of the van with him, and by default your hand intertwines with his as soon as the lights and cameras are out. Donghyuck is so, so, so tired and happy, but he keeps himself cool and calm because he doesn’t need a part two of the hospital scene during the promotions for Candy. But Lord Jesus, what can he do when your first instinct as soon as you and him are out of people’s sight is to hold his hand? You know how much he loves holding hands. You might as well kiss him now if you’re planning his doom.

The other members are quiet. Donghyuck could hear Renjun snoring already.

Gently, you massage the back of Donghyuck’s hand, and seconds later, he could feel your lips softly kissing his fingers, humming the tune to one of the songs playing at the venue before the team left. Donghyuck smiles, content with the way his heart flutters at your actions.

“Y/N,” Dream’s manager asks while he takes a turn, his hands tightly holding the steering wheel. “Shall I drop you off at your building?”

“Yes, please,” you answer. “You know where it is, right?”

The manager hums and makes eye contact with Donghyuck through the rearview mirror. “Donghyuck.”

“Hm?”

“If you want to stay over at Y/N’s, you can. I’ll have someone pick you up at six in the morning tomorrow.”

“Really?” Donghyuck gasps, a little too loudly because Renjun groans as soon as he does. “Sorry. Will you really let me stay over?”

“Unless Y/N says no, then it should be fine. You deserve it,” the manager answers. Donghyuck turns to you, eyes pleading, as if you’d say no.

“As if I’d say no,” you parrot whatever he had in mind.

Donghyuck happily (but quietly) cheers.

“No funny business, Haechan,” the manager reminds as soon as the car stops in front of the building you live in. “Be ready at six in the morning.”

“I love you, hyung,” Donghyuck pouts, sending the manager a flying kiss, before opening the door and jumping, offering his hand to help you. “Thank you. I won’t stay up and I will wake up early.”

The other members mumble a quiet, tired bye-bye, and it seems like only Donghyuck has enough energy left to even tell each member he loves them. Their manager allows you and him to enter the building first before Donghyuck hears them drive away.

It doesn’t hit Donghyuck that it’s his first time staying over for a night until he hears you lock the door and he gets a full view of your place. His confidence runs low when you start removing your coat and shoes, realizing that holy shit, this is real. He’s really staying the night at the love of his life’s safe place. Will you let him sleep on the same bed? Probably not, what is he even thinking? Of course, he’s sleeping on the floor, and you’re taking the bed. Why does he thi—

“Donghyuck, stop thinking and get rid of your shoes,” you interrupt his thoughts as your enter the small living room area, switching some lights on one by one. “Go take a shower.”

Donghyuck nods, following you while he carries his backpack of necessities. You lead him to the bathroom and tell him you’ll prepare the bed.

When Donghyuck is left alone, he decides that this would be the best time to confess to you, the only time he really can because you’re all alone and there’s no Park Jisung to interrupt your bubble. He starts the shower and composes his thoughts, thinking about the most beautiful words he could string so he could put the message across.

When he’s done, his mind is all fogged up just like the mirror in your bathroom. He hears you knock, asking if he’s done yet because you would also need to shower. He puts his clothes on, a shirt and some sweatpants, drying his hair with the spare towel you prepared for him, and opens the door to find you smiling softly as you wait for him. He steps out and allows you in, finding his feet padding on your warm floor.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” you say before locking the bathroom door. Donghyuck hums.

The door of your bedroom is already open when he reaches it. Donghyuck is suddenly so conscious of his presence inside your safe place, inside the privacy of your home. He’s never been here, and didn’t think this day would come so soon. He doesn’t know where to sit, if he’s even allowed to sit on your bed, and is not sure whether this is okay suddenly.

Your room is almost the same size as the one he shares with Johnny in the dorm. He finds your computer setup in the corner of the room, a small shelf of your favorite books displayed right beside it. He sees a vinyl turntable on top of the small shelf, and he makes a mental note to buy you a record the next time he visit a record store.

Donghyuck honestly doesn’t know what to do, so he settles himself on the swivel chair and takes his phone as he waits for you.

The sound of the shower running stops and the sound of what seems like a hairdryer echoes from the bathroom; it doesn’t take that long until you’re entering your bed room, hair still a little damp from the shower.

“What are you doing? I told you to make yourself comfortable,” you mutter as you enter, brushing your hair, yawning a little. Donghyuck looks up from the TikTok video he’s watching.

“I—I didn’t know if we’re staying on the same bed or, or, like…”

You giggle, walking towards him. “Oh, Donghyuck, you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sleep on the floor.”

“So, like, we’re—we’re like sharing? The bed? Together, I mean.”

A look of surprise, more like confusion, flashes on your face. “Oh, is it not okay? If not, then we—I can, the living room, well, there’s a couch, and perhaps—?”

A second of silence.

Donghyuck starts laughing, and you do, too.

“We’re awful at this,” he comments, you agree and offer your hand. “How do you want this, my lady?”

“The bed has enough room for you and me,” you answer. “Come on, Donghyuck-ah. Let’s sleep.”

Donghyuck pulls you close, and you hold onto him like magnets connecting. Kissing the top of your head, he hums in content as you hug him tighter, your face nuzzled comfortably on his chest. You kiss his cloth-covered chest and make a comment about him buffing up especially on his chest area.

“Taeyong-hyung forces me to go to the gym. I’m glad you noticed,” Donghyuck jokes as you pull him towards the bed after switching the main light off, leaving the small light from your side table on. Donghyuck takes the right side and, as if you’ve been doing this for a long time, allows you to comfortably rest your head on his chest.

“Congratulations again,” you mumble sleepily. “You were so handsome on stage. I was about to fall on my knees.”

“Thank you, I made an effort to keep your attention on me. The entire venue was screaming for Jaemin. I need at least one person to keep their eyes on me,” he jokes.

“The world is your stage, Donghyuck,” you reply, voice softer. “You have everyone’s attention.”

“Some days, I only want yours.” This is it. This is when Donghyuck confesses and tells you about his undying love and how much he wants a future with you.

“You have mine every day,” you mutter, voice barely audible.

Hold on, God, are you really falling asleep before he could confess?

“I lo—Y/N, I’m having a moment. Please let me have this moment. Can you stay awake?”

“No,” you mumble. “Night.” Barely there.

“Wow,” Donghyuck sighs in disbelief. “You’re really sleeping when I’m about to give you my entire heart.”

Donghyuck hears you hum. Fuck it.

“I really,” he starts. “Really, really, really, really, really, really.”

He inhales, waiting. No response.

“I really, really, really love you.” There. No reaction.

“I have loved you for a long time,” he continues anyway. “I think the first time I realized it was when you were bringing food for us, and prior to that all members were talking about how much they’re craving for pizza. But when you arrived with the food delivery, you—” He chuckles at the memory. “You were holding a separate box for me. With fried chicken. For me. Because you know I don’t give a shit about pizza.”

He turns a little to kiss your hair.

“And it wasn’t even a eureka! moment,” he continues. “It wasn’t even a punch in the gut. It wasn’t loud, like my heart hammering against my chest, screaming for your name. It was—it was quiet. Like a tap on my wrist, telling me it’s always been there. You’ve always been in my heart. And you didn’t come in screaming, pulsating, crying. You walked in my heart, slowly and surely, like—like, the sun rising. It doesn’t abruptly rise from the horizon and blind everyone before they get the chance to wake up to start their day. The sun rises slowly, seeping through your curtains, gently waking you, kissing your skin like it’s the most precious thing ever. You’re like that for me. You’re the sun rising quietly into the horizon for me.”

“And I just—” Donghyuck sighs. “I wish I could say it better. I love you. I have loved you for a long time. I don’t think I’ll ever stop, so please let me say this. Let me tell you I love you.”

Donghyuck is left with silence for a few moments. And he wonders if he said it right. Honestly, he doesn’t even remember the words he said. He probably just spluttered nonsense. Main point is he loves you, and damn does he wish you were awake to hear all of it. He feels you breathe slowly, then—

“I love you, too,” you whisper, sniffling. He thinks you may be crying. “Have for a long time, too. I can’t remember when. I can’t even remember a time since we’ve met that I don’t look at you like you hung the stars for me.”

“Baby,” Donghyuck pouts when he realizes you’re already crying. He moves so that he’s lying on his side as he grabs your face with both hands, thumbs wiping away the tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You giggle.

“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck asks and you nod too quickly. He wipes the stains of tears from your cheeks and leans closer, closer, closer—

And there. Finally. The most-awaited first kiss.

He presses his lips only softly, a feather-like touch, waits for your reaction, but you keep your eyes closed, and then he’s leaning again, pressing his lips firmly this time.

He kisses you gently—carefully, like a curator carrying a piece of art that’s been around for ages, and you kiss him back like you mean it.

The kiss is over not long after, and Donghyuck brings you back close to his chest, hugging you and telling you to sleep.

You hum. Donghyuck closes his eyes.

The room is covered in silence. Donghyuck feels like he’s dreaming, and slowly, he lets himself fall asleep. The last thing he hears before drifting of is: “for the record, I’ve always known, Donghyuck. I’ve always known, because the things you can’t say, your eyes tell.”

#haechan fic #haechan fluff #haechan imagine #haechan bf #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck fic #lee donghyuck fluff #donghyuck x reader #haechan #haechan x reader #nct haechan #nct dream fic #nct dream scenario #faye's moving castle

818 notes · View notes

hyuckmov · 1 year

Text

request #4 - himbo haechan (preview) FULL FIC HERE

wc: 1k (full thing est. 10k) genre: mostly fluff, gets suggestive (full thing will be 18+) a/n: by this time it should be clear that i'm someone who posts previews to encourage themself to finish the whole thing. and also because my account is so dry writing-wise (entirely my fault lmfao)... i just want to leave something here. so yeah i'll be working on this...and the rivals one... and whatever comes to my mind i guess.... thank u to everyone helping me along w this idea <3 this hyuck is turning out to be very special to me and he will only change and show more sides of himself as this fic goes on 🫶🏻 lmk if u like this or wna be tagged

the first time you meet haechan, he doesn't exactly make a good impression.

"what are you doing?"

slowly, he lifts his head from where his lips were brushing your neck. "um…" blinking, his eyes refocus on yours. "trying to kiss you."

"haechan!" you hiss.

eyebrows raised, he beams back at you. "y/n!" he hisses back, imitating your tone.

"i came here with someone else." you push his shoulder lightly, trying to make space between him and you but it's no use — his body slumps even harder, and you can see his eyes scanning your neck, zoning out of the conversation.

"i know…" he mumbles, tracing a fingertip at your pulse point and making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

"you do?"

"yeah…" his other hand hovers in the air, as if he's deciding whether to grab your waist or press his palm to your lower back.

"so you know i'm talking to someone right now, and it would be bad if i went around kissing my project partners...?"

silence.

you dip your head slightly to try to look at him through his messy bangs, only to jolt slightly when you glimpse his expression. his eyes already half-lidded with lust, mouth hanging open and drool glistening on his plump lips. why did he look so…needy? fucked out? it had only been about a minute or so since you saw him walk towards you, the easy smile he kept on at full blast. you had exchanged small talk for about 10 seconds over your professor, and then he started nosing at the juncture between your jaw and your neck.

"haechan?" you prompted, hesitantly. "everything okay?"

"um...all's good," he mutters, before moving back towards you, lips puckered slightly and ready to mark your skin.

spluttering, you push him away, again, confusion starting to settle in for you too. could he not take a hint?

"were you even listening?" you ask, incredulously. "i said i'm talking to someone right now."

"uh huh." he tilts his head to the side. "um, did you say something after that? sorry-" he breathes, wincing at the frustration on your face. "you just smell so good, i couldn't pay attention…" and as if he couldn't help himself, you noticed his body gravitate towards you, again.

gripping onto his shoulder to keep him at a distance, you say slowly, "haechan, if i'm talking to someone, it wouldn't be good for me to mess around with other people."

you see the words register in his head, see the furrow in his brow deepen as he ponders what you're saying. "it wouldn't?"

"no, it wouldn't."

"but you're not dating him yet."

"no, i'm not." you see him open his mouth, so you quickly add, "but we're on our way, and i want to show him i'm serious about it."

"but i'm serious about you." it was practically lazy – the way he pulled your hand off his shoulder and intertwined your fingers with his.

you couldn't help the thrill that ran down your spine as you were reminded of how strong he was, even though he didn't necessarily look it.

"serious about me or serious about fucking me?" you bite back.

"both."

you let out a scoff. unable to stop yourself, you blurt out, "are you used to women saying yes to you or something?"

"huh?"

"where do you get your confidence?"

he raises his eyebrows at you in genuine concern as if you're the confused one in this conversation. "where do you think?" he makes a vague gesture to indicate his pretty face, and you're a little annoyed at how right he is. with heavy eye makeup, mismatched contact lenses giving his look a more piercing quality, moles tracing across his cheek just begging to be suckled with kisses and those heart-shaped lips…you think you would be hard pressed to find a woman in this room who would say no to his shameless flirting.

"you shouldn't assume, haechan." something close to confidence begins to stir up in you, and you straighten, shaking your hand out of his. "it's not nice to kiss someone without asking them properly. you should always try to read the situation, and make sure you have consent."

listening intently like a student in a classroom, he nods slowly to show he understands. "not nice, got it. anything else?"

"don't try to steal people away from their dates," you add on, inspired.

"right."

"and don't say things like 'i'm serious about fucking you' if you don't really mean–"

"-this is hot." he interrupts, words blurring together in a rush. his eyes unfocused and dreamy, he drags his gaze up and down your body indulgently. "you teaching me things."

"hae-"

"teaching me how to be a good boy…" he breathes. "yeah. fuck."

your jaw drops, momentarily speechless. and yet, despite everything you were supposedly teaching him, his straightforwardness, the lack of filter, the raw desire that seemed to course through his entire body…you couldn't deny that it was making you feel a certain way too.

fixing him with a look that conveyed as much seriousness and frustration you could muster, you shake your head.

and he cowers.

"sorry…" he mumbles, stepping away from you, almost ashamed. "i should've kept that to myself."

you resist the urge to laugh. "yes, maybe you should have."

turning to go, you pat him on the arm lightly, feeling a little bad for him. "see you around in class, okay?"

he nods, eyes cast to the floor gloomily, and you're about to exit and head back to the main room when he calls your name.

"y/n?"

"yes?"

"i meant it."

"what?"

"i meant it when i said i was serious about fucking you." quietly, and with surprising gentleness, "i wouldn't lead you on like that. i wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it."

and as you turn your back on the pretty boy in the hallway, you couldn't help the butterflies that seemed to burst into life in your chest at his words.

#not tagging anyone bc this is really a previewwww sry #like i only have this and another scene and like the start of the final scene but anyway im treating this like a fic bc i like the idea #and this is gna have a world and everything #haechan fluff #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan scenario #nct scenario #nct dream scenario #nct 127 scenario #haechan au #nct smut #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck smut

576 notes · View notes

cinnajun · 2 years

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: sun and moon | lhc

summary | your childhood best friend, donghyuck, claims he loves you. given his other friends and who he is as a person, you don’t believe him.

genre | lee haechan x fem!reader, high school seniors! au, childhood best friends to lovers, angst, fluff at the end, hyuck + the rest of 7dream are canonical assholes

warnings | high school parties (i.e. underage drinking)

wc | 6.1k

a/n: got a little carried away w this one, so thanks to the anon who requested it! anywho, i listened to tek it by cafune on repeat while writing this, so if u want a song rec ^^ imagine black haired glimo hc for this one <33 (p.s., if you want to play the game reader describes, this is the link) (p.p.s ignore their high school classes this is fanfic logic)

ft. sungchan, loona’s gowon, le sserafim’s chaewon

IT’S A SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and Donghyuck is laying down on your bed, watching you play whatever stupid video game you were infatuated with now. He didn’t come over often, not since your first year, so there was a slight bit of awkwardness between you two.

Nevertheless, you allow him to lay there, dressed in the tacky cool-guy getup that he seemed to love so much.

Outside, rain poured, and you knew that was the chief reason he was in your bedroom right now. If there wasn’t a flash flood warning, he’d be out and about with Mark Lee, Na Jaemin, and the rest of them, ruining people’s days left and right for the fun of it.

You wanted to consider Donghyuck to be your best friend, still. Given who he was now, the reputation he harbored, and the lack of time spent with one another, you didn’t feel like he was.

“I don’t understand the game,” he said, catching your attention fairly easily. You turned your head, giving him a dirty look for interrupting your flow. “You just look like you’re putting lines and boxes on a screen, but there’s a score.”

“You’re supposed to make paths. You close them off with the little dots,” you mumbled, turning back to your screen. The sound of Donghyuck sliding off your bed and kneel-walking to your side filled your ears but was mostly drowned out by the rain and the sound of the music coming through your speakers.

He stopped his kneel-walk adjacent to you, squinting at the screen. You didn’t slow down or try to explain your moves, simply placing each piece you were given in a way that most made sense.

“I seriously don’t get it. Is there a strategy to this?”

“No.”

“So you just…play for fun?”

“U-huh.”

“Man,” he mumbled, leaning his chin on the edge of your desk. You continued playing, clicking your shapes around into places they most fit, ignoring the way Dongyuck seemed to stare at you, now, rather than the game. “Who’ve you been hanging out with, these days?”

That question struck a chord. Briefly, you remembered the week-and-a-half where you stuck to Donghyuck as he began growing close with his current friends, and how left out you felt through the whole experience. It was, quite possibly, the worst week of your life.

“Sungchan from the grade below, Chaewon, and Gowon,” you replied, wondering if he’d even know who they were. From the way he didn’t respond, you assumed he didn’t, which hurt a little bit. “Uh, Chaewon is—”

“The girl with the short hair. Yeah, Renjun had a bit of a thing for her a while ago,” he cut you off with some unprompted information, which shocked you. If you remembered correctly, Chaewon had a massive crush on him for about a year; the new information made you wonder if he’d pursued her and dropped her the moment he’d found a better target.

“Really? Huh,” you hummed, glancing down at him. You made eye contact for a split second, but you broke it off the moment you realized how intense his stare was.

“So, how do you play this game?”

A small sigh escaped your lips, short in duration yet heavy in weight. You pointed at one of the boxes on the screen, turning to him once again. “You want to put the little circles in the boxes. Using the ‘X’ shapes, parallel lines, and the single lines, you want to connect all the boxes together to make paths. You put the little circles on the end of empty lines, too. You get points depending on how many circles you put in the boxes and how many circled-off paths you make.”

“Yeah, that makes absolutely no sense,” he scoffed. You were glad his attention was on the screen again. A bright flash of light broke through your bedroom windows, followed by a floor-shaking boom shortly thereafter. “You were always smarter than I was.”

“Not a chance. You just never tried hard enough.”

Silence fell between you two, and the only noise in the room turned into soft clicks and the droning of your music. It was nice being able to pretend like he wasn’t there, although you couldn’t help but wonder when you started feeling so…averse towards him. Maybe it was a product of the leftover hurt of his abandonment last year, or maybe it was because of how different his presence was.

When you were little, your mom always called him the sun and you the moon. He was bright and happy, always dressed in vibrant colors and ready to stand up for you whenever anyone did or said anything mean. He loved it when you and your mom took him to the beach, in the same way you loved it when he and his mom took you up into the countryside.

You were opposites as a kid, in the way that you were puzzle pieces that easily fit together. At some point, though, other pieces were added to that puzzle, and you both were torn apart by pieces that just fit better.

“[First]! Donghyuck!” Your mom called, her voice barely comprehensible above the pouring rain and the music. “Dinner!”

You picked up your phone, paused the music, and unplugged your phone from its charger. But, before you could stand up, Donghyuck put a hand on your knee, sending a shiver down your spine. You gave him a look, mentally saying “what the hell?” but he quickly explained himself.

“Can we talk? Just for a second.”

You gave him another look but complied. “One second, Mom!” you yelled, hoping she heard. “Just finishing up a game!”

He pushed himself off the floor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You spun around in your desk chair, pulling your knees up to your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek. He cleared his throat as if he was nervous, which would be surprising given his personality.

You never thought you’d see the day when both you and Donghyuck were nervous to talk to each other.

“You don’t hate me or anything, right?”

You wished you knew the answer to that.

“What? No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Why would I hate you? We just grew apart, it’s not the end of the world. It was bound to happen.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, looking off to the side. There was a pause in his sentence, then he cleared his throat again. “I’m in love with you.”

The whole room seemed to freeze over. You were utterly speechless.

“Pardon?”

“I love you. A lot. Like, love you.”

Letting your mind move faster than your mouth, you replied faster than you would’ve wanted to.

“No, you don’t.”

That seemed to stun him, as his eyes widened and his lips parted ever-so-slightly. You watched as hurt filled his expression, but you couldn’t help but stick with your response. He didn’t move to say anything else, so you stood up, stretching your arms into the air.

“Look, we’re friends and all, but you don’t love me, Hyuck. You can’t love someone when you barely know them.”

Saying that probably hurt you more than it hurt him, but you stood by it nonetheless. “How do I barely know you?” he asked, standing and walking to block your path. “Did I imagine the past fifteen years or something? I practically know everything there is to know about you.”

“I’m not sixteen anymore, dude. We’re practically eighteen. The last time we talked frequently was the end of our first year,” you said, crossing your arms. “If you told me you were in love with me back then, I might’ve believed you. But, as things stand right now, you are not.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he replied, frowning at you. “A year isn’t going to change everything about you, [First]. I knew you were weird about this, but that’s—that’s just ridiculous. Don’t you realize how ridiculous that is?”

“It’s not very ridiculous when I spent three months wondering if we were even friends anymore. You realize it took you three months to even text me back? You ignored me, pretended like I wasn’t there, and now you expect me to think you’re in love with me? Give me a break.”

“Maybe I ignored you because I was trying to get rid of the part of me that was hopelessly in love with you because I didn’t want to destroy the decade and a half of friendship we’ve built. Ever consider that? I bet not because you’re always so goddamn unreasonable with this. God forbid anyone gets too close, huh? God forbid the one person who knows you best get too close.”

“I let you get close, Donghyuck,” you spat, narrowing your eyes. “I put my whole trust into you, my entire life was you. I was nothing if not yours, and then you threw me to the curb the moment you found better people. I’m not upset about that, it was bound to happen, but—”

“But what?”

“But you didn’t even apologize.”

He scoffed at that, crossing his arms. “Oh my god, it’s not like I told you to fuck off and never talk to me again, did I? Back then even looking at you was difficult, but, for the entire three months, my friends—who you so vehemently hate—kept telling me to reach out. I thought that if you disappeared, if I pretended like I never let my feelings go that far, things would go back to normal, but they didn’t. They still haven’t.”

“Why now, then? Why now, after I already decided that our friendship was pretty much over, huh? Why did you wait? Why not after those three months? Why not any time other than now?”

You side-stepped past him, opening the door to your bedroom and approaching the stairwell. You didn’t hear him follow, but you didn’t care to look back or check what he was doing. Instead, you ran downstairs, cringing when your mom’s face turned into one of confusion.

“Where’s Donghyuck, sweetie?”

“He’ll be down in a second,” you said nonchalantly, assuming your normal seat at the dinner table. “He just needed to deal with something quickly.”

The summer sun beamed down on you and your friends, and you lamented the lack of clouds, or really anything, blocking the sun. You sometimes wondered why you and your friends had decided to eat lunch at the very corner of the school’s soccer field, but, when the weird time between summer and autumn hit, you were sure to remember.

“It’s so god damn hot,” Sungchan panted, flopping onto the grass. The green seemed to cradle him in a way that made him look a bit majestic, even with your ugly uniforms. Chaewon hummed in agreement, shoveling noodles in her mouth; she, like you, always brought lunch from home.

“Where’s Gowon?” you asked, glancing down at him. He put a hand over his eyes, covering the painful gaze of the sun. “Did you see her in the lunch line?”

“She’s not walking over yet?” Sungchan asked, turning his head towards you. Chaewon waved away a fly that was getting too close to his uncovered lunch, mumbling something about how bugs in the summer were always so terrible. “She wasn’t too far behind me in line. I dunno where she would’ve gone.”

“Hm.”

You scanned the field, looking for any sign of her, but she was nowhere to be found. Chaewon turned her whole torso around to look as well, looking for any sign of her. “She might’ve gotten caught up with somebody. I’ll go check, just to make sure.”

She hopped up from the grass, running in the direction of the building’s doors. You looked at Sungchan, who didn’t move at all. “Dude, P.E. wrecked me today. I can barely feel my legs.”

“You wouldn’t have to take P.E. if you had taken a music course.”

“Oh, shut up, not everybody is as perfect and lovely as you, [First],” he huffed, pushing himself off the grass. You reached out and brushed a blade of grass out of his hair, but he didn’t thank you for the gesture at all. “You’re quiet today. Is everything good?”

No, my childhood best friend, who I didn’t think even liked me as a friend anymore, confessed his love for me, you thought.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. We had a big English test today.”

“Gross,” he replied, finally picking up his tray and beginning to eat. “Man, I can’t imagine having to start preparing for my CSATs. Do you ever go home?”

“I don’t study often. I’m gonna study enough to get into a college and get a degree.” You shrugged, taking a bite out of the fruit sandwich your mom had made you after you woke up incredibly late. Suddenly, in the distance, the doors to the school building burst open, revealing Chaewon, who was dragging Gowon behind her. Gowon barely had a steady handle on her lunch tray, keeping it balanced enough that it wouldn’t spill everywhere as they ran.

“Jesus,” Sungchan muttered, taking a bite of whatever they served for lunch that day.

Gowon and Chaewon made it to you both at record speeds, with Chaewon practically sliding into her previous sitting spot. “Dude,” she began, huffing and puffing from the running she did. Gowon practically crumbled onto the floor, taking three big swigs from her water bottle. “What in the world happened between you and Donghyuck?”

“What?”

“I found Gowon, like, surrounded by his little gang as he talked to her. She looked like she was going to faint, but he pretty clearly asked where you were,” she giggled, reaching out and slapping your shoulder. “So? What is it?”

“He told me he was in love with me yesterday.”

Chaewon practically shrieked with joy, to the point where it almost made you feel bad for the outcome of his stark leap. “And? And?”

“I told him that he didn’t love me and that he doesn’t know me very well anymore.”

Gowon choked on her water, covering her mouth and trying not to spit it all out. Instead, she just coughed to the side, barely able to swallow it all down. Sungchan stared at you in complete shock, and Chaewon’s excited face morphed into a sad and confused one.

“Excuse me?” Gowon breathed out. “You what? You, [First] [Last], known for your compassion and kindness, said what?”

“I mean, he doesn’t love me. He loves who he knew a year ago, when we were still attached at the hip and he still wore that stupid yellow bomber jacket that I bought him in middle school,” you sighed, taking another bite of the sandwich. “I’m not—I’m not the same, you know? I like different things, I do different things, and I hang out with different people. He’s not the same either. It wouldn’t…it just wouldn’t work.”

“Bullshit.” Sungchan laughed dryly, giving you a sour look. “You can’t just say that to someone confessing their love to you, no matter how well you know them. I mean, imagine if you worked up the courage to confess to someone and they immediately invalidated your feelings?”

“It’s not like I don’t know that my approach was bad, but it’s the truth. We just aren’t compatible as we are now.”

“But…but weren’t you two…? I mean don’t you still hang out?” Chaewon asked, frowning.

“When he can’t make it to his other friends, yes. Snow days, the flash flood yesterday, when we had that huge dry lightning storm and the power went out. I’m his backup entertainment, and, even when we do hang out, we usually just watch movies in silence or do our own things.”

“I agree with [First].” Gowon nodded, her voice hoarse from the coughing fit she just escaped. “She has a point. I mean, you guys remember what he was like first year…nothing like he is now, y’know?”

“But it was mean to do that,” Chaewon argued, crossing her arms. “You can’t just say stuff like that. You need to apologize, [First].”

“I’ll apologize when I feel like I need to. For now,” you paused, taking a final bite of your sandwich. “I am not going to talk to him about it.”

“[First], don’t be an asshole,” Sungchan replied.

“Oh, I’m the asshole? Shall I recount when he left me in the dust last year? Or when he forgot my birthday and skipped out on my birthday dinner, which both of his parents attended, because he was going to Incheon with Na Jaemin and Lee Jeno? Or when he blew me off every single time I tried to keep our friendship going?” you scoffed, turning towards him. Gowon, who’d been the first person to befriend you after you lost Donghyuck, kept quiet, but she placed a hand on your shoulder in support. “I don’t owe him anything for being a dick, and then deciding he wants to date me. It’s a miracle I even keep him around.”

Chaewon frowned, laying off, but Sungchan didn’t seem to like your answer. Instead, he picked up his tray, pushed himself off the ground, and began a tantrum-ish march to the school building. Nobody tried to stop him.

“I didn’t know,” Chaewon muttered, twiddling her thumbs. “Sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” you hummed, packing up your lunch box. “Sungchan’ll get over himself.”

Once again, rain poured outside, trapping you and your classmates in your classroom while everyone waited for the principal to announce it was safe to leave. For the most part, it was quiet, with mostly everybody parked at their desk and studying or napping. You were watching some random Japanese drama from 2008, laying your head on a quasi-pillow (your bunched-up sweater) that rested on your desk.

Everyone was tired. Of course they were, as it was a Thursday, and nobody wanted to be at school past 4 pm on a Thursday.

The sound of the classroom door being thrown open seemed to grab everyone's attention. You glanced up, cringing when you saw who was invading your peaceful, little classroom. They instantly caused everyone (who was awake, that is) to start whispering back and forth as if the visitors were the president and his men.

You were lamenting the fact that the boy who sat in front of you wasn't at school today.

Donghyuck pulled the chair in front of you closer to your desk, taking a seat so that he’d be facing you rather than the chalkboard. You didn’t move, trying to focus on the subtitles of your new show. But, it seemed he wasn’t very deterred by your current activity, as he easily plucked your earbud from your ear.

Sighing, you paused your show, pushing yourself up from the uncomfortable position. Your back creaked as you did, causing a few sharp pains to travel up your spine.

“Did you need to bring your entire posse with you? you mumbled suppressing a yawn. He shrugged, leaning his elbow on your desk and putting his head in his hands.

“My birthday’s tomorrow,” he said, glancing down at your little setup before looking back up at you. “I’m having a party tonight, though. I’d like for you to come.”

Last year, you missed his birthday party, simply dropping off a gift with his mother before it began. You remember looking out your window, staring at the lights protruding from his house at the end of the street, the kids in the front yard, and the cars parked down the street. The neighborhood you lived in was a nice one—your house was one your mom inherited, which was the only reason you lived somewhere that nice—so houses were spread out to the point where he could get away with a party.

Plus, neither his mom nor his dad seemed to care what was happening. After you dropped the gift off, you watched them drive off together, and they didn’t seem to return until the next Sunday.

You remember thinking how much you would hate to go to a party like that.

“I’m not really into stuff like that,” you replied. “I’ll drop off your gift again and say hi, or something, but I’d rather not go to a party.”

“What if I said you could lock yourself in my room and hang out there the entire time?”

You scrunched your nose up, thinking about what your mom would do if she saw the party happening again while you lazed around in your bedroom. “No studying, no partying, just useless,” she’d tell you, pinching your cheek. “At least do something.”

“I guess,” you mumbled, looking around to see everybody staring at you. In the doorway stood Huang Renjun and Zhong Chenle, both watching you converse a little too intently.

At your response, a warm smile blossomed on Donghyuck’s face. “Great. See you tonight.”

He pushed himself up from the chair, leaving it where it was rather than tucking it in. He shoved his hands into his pockets, pushing past Renjun and Chenle, who stayed and stared at you for a second more. Chenle said something, but you couldn’t hear what it was; after that, he walked off, Renjun following.

You laid your head back down, putting your earbud back in your ear, but you didn’t go to play your drama. Instead, you sat there, staring at the rain pour, slamming into the window faster than you’d ever seen it go.

You hoped he’d leave you alone after this. Getting over the loss of the person you spent nearly your whole childhood with would be difficult, but you’d muscle through it—you always did.

Chaewon and Gowon sat on your couch, watching you fail at wrapping the gift you’d prepared for Donghyuck. They were dressed casually for the event so that you didn’t feel out of place as you walked in and beelined for the upstairs.

“So, you’re…regifting him something?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, ripping tape out of the dispenser. “It’s a little keychain he got me two years ago, along with a ring I put on a chain. He likes necklaces…I think. It’ll be a good way to say, ‘let’s not see each other for a while,’ you know?”

You ignored the tugging at your heart and the way your throat seemed to close at the thought, focusing on how best to wrap the small box in a way that didn’t look ugly. Because of your intense focus, you were lost on the way Chaewon and Gowon looked at each other as if they somehow picked up on the way you were feeling.

“You’re sure there’s no way you could be in love with him too, right?” Chaewon suddenly asked, causing you to perk up. You furrowed your brows at that, your heart lurching in your chest at the question. It made you nervous.

“What? No.” You shook your head, placing a final piece of tape on the gift. You held it up and examined the poor wrapping job you did, frowning at it. For a temporary-last gift, it sucked. “Not a chance.”

“Should we go then? It’s 8, we’re already an hour late.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, standing up with the box. “Now or never, I guess. Have you heard from Sungchan?”

“He’s probably there already. Heard he’s friends with Zhong Chenle and never told us,” Gowon said. You looked at her, eyes widened.

“Really? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, well, now’s the time for learning, I guess,” she said. The three of you approached the door, slipping on shoes and putting on jackets. The moment you opened the door, you were hit with a blast of wet, hot air.

“I hate summer,” you mumbled, stepping outside. Your friends followed, and, together, you made the small trek to Donghyuck’s house. It was surrounded by cars and kids, and the sound of loud music accompanied by bright lighting filled the air. You were glad you didn’t live in a packed area, because, if you did, you were sure this would’ve gone a lot worse.

You pushed past all the already-drunk people outside, grabbing onto Chaewon’s hand for support. “This doesn’t look like a gift-giving party,” you whispered, to which Chaewon rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand.

“And you’re close to him, so you’re expected to get a gift.”

Gowon opened the door and, instantly, you were hit with the scent of alcohol and sweat, which wasn’t pleasant at all. Donghyuck’s house, having been renovated when you were kids, was the perfect location for a party like this one, with people roaming about and searching for something to do. The music drowned out anything you could hear, so you hoped Gowon would follow as you moved ahead, slipping past several people you knew (and, many people you didn’t).

The stairwell wasn’t far from the door, and you made it easily. Jaemin and Mark were lingering near it, seemingly making sure nobody tried to sneak up there and potentially steal something. You nodded your head at Jaemin the moment you made eye contact, but he didn’t step out of the way.

“I can take the gift,” he half-yelled, holding his hand out. Despite the volume of his voice, you could barely hear him and were a bit confused when he took the box out of your hands. You leaned closer to hear him, but you halfway wished you hadn’t. “Only you’re allowed up.”

You lurched back, looking at Chaewon and Gowon, who both nodded at you reassuringly. Chaewon released your hand, giving you a small smile before linking arms with Gowon. You sighed, running up the stairs as fast as you could. As promised, it was much quieter upstairs—as quiet as it could be given the surroundings—and much emptier. The upstairs looked just as you remembered it looking, with the only difference being a couple of newer pictures placed along the walls.

This felt like your childhood. A bit of nostalgia squeezed your heart as you walked down the hall, staring at pictures of the Lee family that you knew so well. Donghyuck’s parents were beautiful—unsurprising given how beautiful their son was—and that was made known by their wedding pictures, which sat framed at the edge of the hall.

You approached them, examining the bundles of photos they had put up. You remembered the several times you, as a small kid, told Donghyuck’s mother how you wanted to look just like her when she got married, with her gorgeous white gown and veil.

How ironic.

You turned the corner, approaching the final door in that section of the corridor. It was closed, and a small “do not enter!” sign was plastered on it. You blatantly ignored the directions, turning the knob and pushing inside.

His room looked different from the last time you were here.

It was darker, more mature, with more posters and less empty wall space. It looked like the teenage boy's room you’d see on a TV show, especially with the fancy computer and three monitors he had sitting on the desk. You shut the door behind you—it was kind of shocking how his room blocked out all the sound from downstairs—looking around at all he had up.

On his dresser were a few framed pictures, all of which were pictures of you two. The first one was one when you were little, two kids smiling on a playground with no worries in the world, dressed in matching sun and moon outfits. Then, there was a picture of you two at a class performance you had to do in second grade, dressed in tacky outfits that your parents had made together.

The third was a picture of you two in middle school, dressed in your uniforms roaming Lotte World, eating ice cream and laughing at whatever joke was shared between you two. You look back on that day fondly, remembering how much fun you’d had. That was where Donghyuck had gotten the keychain you were gifting back to him.

The final picture was one from your first year of high school. This one was much more robotic than the rest, both of you smiling for the picture and not just to smile. You stood far apart from each other, holding onto your school bags and looking mildly uncomfortable. Your hair was messy from a long day, and there were prevalent bags under Donghyuck’s eyes.

He looked unhappy, in a way. So did you.

Sighing, you approached his bed, taking a seat on the floor and leaning your back against it. You slid your phone from your jacket pocket, scrolling through various notifications you had. Most were from Chaewon, who was using her phone to have her and Gowon communicate with you.

“On an adventure to find a bathroom and lock ourselves insides,” read the first one, along with a couple of random emojis she tacked on.

“Sungchan is all up close and personal with some of Donghyuck’s posse. Who’d have thought they were friends when he’s such a loser lol.”

And, finally, a “Hiding in a non-crowded corner!! Only one bathroom was open, but we will survive by people watching!!”

You typed back a swift response, confirming you were in Donghyuck’s bedroom and feeling quite tired. If you had to guess, this night would end without you seeing Donghyuck at all, and you’d fall asleep on his bedroom floor, only to be woken up by Gowon and Chaewon, who’d snuck upstairs after everyone passed out drunk.

“Gowon here, and I think Donghyuck opened your gift. He doesn’t look pleased, I think. Storming towards the stairs. Fighting!”

Okay, so maybe you spoke too soon. You looked towards the door, wondering what he would have to say to you about it; maybe he’d reject it, giving it back to you and telling you to fuck off, or maybe he’d be reasonable about it, let you talk through things.

Considering the way the door opened, you assumed it to be the former.

Donghyuck practically slammed the door shut behind him, holding up the small white box that you’d put the ring-necklace and keychain in. He stared at you for a second, and you stared back, waiting for him to say something.

“What is this?”

You shrugged, looking at the box. “The sun keychain you got me a few years ago and—”

“The ring you liked to wear all the time in middle school. Yes, I know, I’m aware, but that’s not what I meant.”

You knew what he meant, but you didn’t want to. “Okay, then what did you mean?”

He narrowed his eyes, dropping to the floor in front of you. He stared at you, trying to gauge what exactly you were trying to accomplish by acting clueless. “Why are you giving it back?”

“Because I feel like we need to separate for a bit longer. Like, actually separate this time. Not the not-see-each-other-for-three-weeks routine anymore. A few months without being sun and moon, and just being two different people.”

He put the box down, crossing his legs. Donghyuck didn’t say anything, assuming the same hurt face he had when you told him he didn’t love you. “This is exactly why I never wanted to tell you,” he finally said, letting his head drop to the floor. “One chance your perfect bubble is disrupted and you’ll freak out and shut down.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you were a bit shocked at his response. You had nothing to say, nothing to defend yourself with other than the pitiful look you gave.

“But I’m going to say no to that, [First]. You can’t run every single time something doesn’t go your way. So we either figure this out right here and now, or I don’t think we’ll make it much farther as friends.”

You didn’t want to lose your friendship with him. He was the closest thing to you, the closest person to your secrets, the closest person to your happiness. You were okay with a break for a few months, maybe more, but you did not want to unfriend him for forever.

The way your heart hurt, the way your head spun, the way you found it hard to look him in the eyes and say “but we need this” was taking a toll on you. And, as you went through the motions, a little voice in your head began to say “Maybe you are in love with him, just a little bit. Maybe you have been for a while.”

“I’m sorry for ghosting you last year,” he continued, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I didn’t consider how you would feel and put myself first. I ejected you from a big change in my life, and I just assumed you’d be there to come back to after it was all said and done. You didn’t deserve it.”

You bit your lip in an attempt to keep your emotions squared off and invisible. Even hearing the apology made you want to fall apart, after waiting so long to hear anything of the sort. You remembered how lost you felt without him around, how hurt you felt when you sent text after text and yielded no response.

“Okay, I forgive you.”

It was short, but it got the point across without you bursting into tears at Lee Donghyuck actually apologizing to you. He took another deep breath, closing his hands into a fist.

“One more time, then. [First], I am in love with you.”

You sharply inhaled, looking down at the floor. “Okay. I could be, too. Maybe a little bit.”

It went silent between you, and you refused to look up from the ground. Gently, you reached out and began tracing little drawings on the floor, ones that you visualized in your mind. Saturn, the moon, the stars, the sun, you and Donghyuck, in constant orbit with each other, up in a boundless space you would never reach.

Suddenly, he got onto his knees, causing you to look up. Faster than you would’ve imagined, he shuffled over to you, encasing your face with his hands and pulling you into a soft yet heavy kiss. It left you stunned, but you didn’t seem to mind it that much.

Like the sun, Donghtuck was warm, from the way his hands managed to warm up your already burning cheeks or the way he practically emulated heat, as you felt from the close contact. He tasted like sour lemonade, perfect for a hot, summer day that had you trapped outside for the majority of the day. In a way, he was summer, carefree and bright, ready to ditch all responsibility and run off into the sunset.

When he pulled away from you, he seemed a bit embarrassed, sitting back on his feet and looking off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “I didn’t ask if I could do that. Sorry.”

“I…didn’t mind too much,” you responded, looking down at the floor for the white box that held the keychain and the ring necklace. You opened it, picking up the chain and sliding the ring off it. You grabbed his hand, hoping it would at least fit on his pinky (which it did, thankfully). “Happy birthday.”

He looked down, a small scoff escaping his lips. “What, are you proposing? It hasn’t even been a minute, I mean, are you that obsessed with me?”

“Oh, yeah, For sure.” You rolled your eyes, dropping his hand so you could leave a small punch on his shoulder. “Let’s date, Lee Donghyuck.”

He repeated your idea with a high-pitched, mocking voice, and you could tell he was incredibly embarrassed. It made you giggle, and flick his forehead, to which he lurched back and gave you an incredulous look.

“Get over yourself.”

“If I do, will you take the keychain back?”

“Oh, shut up, loser.”

thank you for reading!

#cinna.nct #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenario #nct dream imagine #nct 127 x reader #haechan x reader #lee haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct dream au #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #req

2K notes · View notes

hyuckiefluff · 11 months

Text

Pretty Boy

pairing: na jaemin x f!reader genre: roommates to lovers wc : 1.2k + summary: you are determined to convince your roommate to let you put mascara on his pretty eyelashes but things escalate when playful touches become more intimate. a/n: this is a short story that i wrote in like an hour sorry if it’s kind of all over the place lol. it has an open ending so possible part 2 if it doesn’t flop?? tysm for reading <33

part 2

"Jaemin, come here!!" you followed him out of the room as he escaped.

"Nope! Not a chance!" Jaemin retorted.

"C'mon, you're being so dramatic,"

"I'm not the one trying to poke your eyeballs with a strange object," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he walked away, keeping a safe distance from you.

"Please, it's just mascara. I'm trying to see how it looks on you," you said, practically sprinting after him across the shared department.

"When I agreed to room with you, I didn't know I was signing up to become your little experiment," he grumbled, effortlessly leaping over the couch and assuming a defensive stance. "Why do you even want to put mascara on me?"

"Like I said, you're being dramatic. And you have the prettiest eyelashes I've ever seen, so I must see what they look like all done,"

He rolled his eyes, having had this conversation with you before. You had always pointed out the unfairness of him having such long lashes but never doing anything to them.

"I'm not letting you come close to my eyes with that thing," he firmly stated, causing you to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Wait, what’s that behind you?” While you didn't expect him to actually fall for it, he momentarily looked over his shoulder, and in that split second, you swiftly jumped over the couch, landing right on top of him with a victorious war cry.

"C'mooon," he protested, but his hands instinctively found their place on your hips, keeping you in place.

"I'm just going to apply a little bit," you said innocently, moving closer to his face. He remained silent, which caught you off guard, considering how vehemently he had opposed the idea just moments ago.

His gaze was fixed on you, and you took it as an opportunity to concentrate on your task. You were so focused on not accidentally poking his eyes that you failed to notice what his hands were doing. He started slowly caressing your hips, it seemed like he was doing it unconsciously at first but then he started gently pinching and groping and it was getting harder for you to keep your hand steady.

"Does it usually take you this long to do this?" he asked, looking upwards as you worked the mascara brush on his lashes.

"Well, excuse me, but you're distracting me," you responded, pausing for a moment to give him an accusing look. When he met your gaze, you almost dropped the brush because of how absurdly beautiful he looked. His eyes appeared larger, framed by the now even longer and darker lashes. Despite his frown and occasional uncomfortable blinking, he looked mesmerizing.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to hide the smile threatening to escape. However, he caught your gesture and gently took your hand, placing a kiss on it. "What are you smiling at? Do I look that ridiculous?" he asked, his voice lowering in tone.

"No," you replied, your voice slightly faltering. "You look good." If he hadn't already sensed your flustered state from the way your voice trembled, he certainly did when you flinched in response to his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you down closer to him.

"Really? Show me then," he said, his gaze fixed on you. For a moment, you were confused, dazed by the way he was looking at you. Then it clicked, and you understood what he meant. Without hesitation, you pulled out your phone to take a picture of him.

As you captured the shot, you couldn't help but bite your lip at how intimate it looked. He was looking up at you through his eyelashes, a slight smile playing on his lips. The image clearly showed the fact that you were straddling him, his hands resting on your thighs. You knew you'd have to delete this picture after showing him because your best friends were notoriously nosy, and the last thing you wanted was for them to stumble upon a photo of you practically riding your roommate.

"Are you gonna show me or..." his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat, handing him the phone. You would have gotten off his lap by now if it weren't for his hand still holding you firmly in place.

"Mhmm..." he hummed approvingly as he looked at the picture. "I like it. I'm sending it to myself."

"What? No, no," you panicked, attempting to grab your phone, but he held it out of reach, lifting it over his head. Retrieving it would mean getting even closer to him. Instead, you gave him a death stare and an expression that clearly said, 'Seriously dude?'

"If you like it so much, I can just take another one of just you," you pleaded.

"But I like this one because you're in it too," he responded, raising an eyebrow.

Your stomach dropped, and before you could form a coherent response, Jaemin propped himself up on his elbows, your phone abandoned somewhere behind him. His face was now incredibly close to yours, his minty breath filling the space between you. You couldn't move away, and if you're honest with yourself, you wouldn't even if you could. After two years of being roommates with Jaemin, you had grown used to him being clingy and affectionate, and while you had found yourself on his lap on previous occasions, it had never escalated to this level of intensity.

Unconsciously, you bit your lip, a nervous habit of yours, catching Jaemin's attention. He lifted his hand and gently caressed your bottom lip with his thumb, causing you to cease the biting. Now his focus was entirely on your lips, and perhaps it was your imagination, but he seemed to be getting closer. "Don't bite these pretty lips; you'll roughen them up," he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Sorry..." you murmured instinctively, your voice sounding small and vulnerable. It was a clear indication that he was flustering you.

There were so many alarms going off in your head, warning you of the dangerous territory you were about to venture into. If you were smart, you would heed those warnings and run away.

"Okay, well, I'm done here, so..." you began to say, your voice trailing off.

"Are you? But there's a space here that needs taking care of," he pointed towards his eye, and as you leaned closer, you struggled to see anything out of the ordinary.

"What? Whe-" Your words were abruptly swallowed by his lips as they pressed against yours, catching you completely off guard. A whimper escaped your lips, met with a low grunt from him, as he skillfully moved his lips against yours. His hands found their way up from your hips to your waist, exploring the exposed skin revealed by your riding-up shirt. The kiss started off gentle but quickly escalated, his lips and hands working their way up your body. It was you who deepened the kiss, prodding him with your tongue, silently asking for entry. He sighed contently, granting you access, and the kiss grew wetter and more intense as your tongues danced together. His hips began to buck up, creating a delicious friction between your cores, eliciting moans from both of you.

There was no turning back now. You were well aware of it, and Jaemin seemed to understand too, as he pulled away from the kiss, suggesting, "Maybe we should move to the bed."

The implications made your lower stomach churn with a mix of excitement and nervousness, but you nodded, a smile playing on your lips.

"Let's go, pretty boy," you said teasingly, before darting away, Jaemin hot on your heels, eagerly chasing after you.

part 2

feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

#jaemin moodboard #nct #nct dream #na jaemin #nct x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfic #jaemin drabbles #jaemin imagine #nct dream fic #nct dream scenario #jaemin x you #jaemin x y/n

3K notes · View notes

flashbangstars · 1 month

Text

Searching for Sun, water, and attention

Pairing: Jeno x Female reader wc: 2k +

Summary: You honestly thought you were coping with being a stem major in finals week pretty well... up until you weren't

Genre: low key hurt comfort, idk man rough week, fluff, i call mc a plant

Warnings?: none really, I say sex like once

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Your leaves were wilting, and you were in dire need of water. You weren’t placed in a spot where you get enough sun, and they didn’t tend to your leaves, You felt as if you hadn’t had a proper day of self-care in weeks. Which was true.

But you were also not a plant, you were an engineering major in your second semester of senior year struggling to make it through. You hadn’t eaten since the couple slices of apple you snuck this morning from your roommate’s breakfast plate (dire need of water), you hadn’t changed out of the pajamas you had been wearing for two days not (leaves were wilting), and you had been sitting in the dark of your room with only your computer screen illuminating the space (you weren’t getting enough sun)

You had taken on a giant project and had yet to see the end of it. You had been dealing with group members who had checked out and didn’t care anymore, and professors who were doing the same thing. Hence this little room has become your evil lair for the past couple of weeks, Everything was online so you did not need to leave, and why would you leave if you could get things delivered?

It was about 1 in the afternoon and thanks to your blackout curtains your room was pitch black. Hearing the door open you knew it meant Jeno was home. Jeno was your roommate, you two had met online on the student group chat and the rest is history.

He did think you were a dude at first, but hey it’s 2024 who cares?

You hear a soft knock on the door and a pause after two knocks.

“Hi,” You hear Jeno say from the other side of the door.

“Come in”

The door opened and Jeno walked into your room and beelined to the windows, quickly opening the blinds and letting in the afternoon sun.

Hissssss

“Did you just fucking hiss at me?” His head swiveled and his eyes were big.

“Gut reaction, my bad” You raised your hand in surrender.

Jeno was no stranger to this, with your major this was the territory every finals season. You would become a recluse and lock yourself in your room to work on things. He felt bad because he knew it took a toll on you, but you never said anything when things got hard. One afternoon a year ago your friends on their way out had thanked him for “taking care of you” He hadn’t done much but he was glad to know he was of some help in your life.

“OK get up, you’ve been in here since I left. You need fresh air” He knew you probably hadn’t gotten up in his absence to even move around the apartment either”

“You were gone for like an hour, that’s nothing!!!” You said laughing at your roommate’s accusation.

Jeno paused and turned around with an unamused face to stare at you

“Y/n I was gone for 4 hours” the monotone voice matching the vibe his face was giving.

Pause

“You were gone four hours? When did you leave?” You questioned.

“I left at 7:45 this morning, and it is currently noon” He deadpanned.

“Oh,” you remarked.

“Yeah OH, now get up we are going for a walk” He grabbed your hands and began to pull you out of the chair. Blankets falling to the ground and exposing the pajamas you hadn’t taken off since you woke up.

“Put on different clothes” he muttered as he walked out of your room.

Glancing down at the Hello Kitty pajamas pants you were a little offended as to why he thought you couldn’t wear these out in public, but you still fulfilled his wishes and changed into leggings and a clean sweatshirt. Probably looking the most put-together you have in a couple of months.

You both walked down the street your apartment was on in a comfortable silence, watching your reflection in the windows of the stores you passed. Jeno was always someone people looked at, he had all these pretty angles and pretty features. It was hard not to like him, you two in comparison were very different and It was hard to not crave the structure Jeno had created for himself. He was smart, he didn’t have to struggle to get ahead, he just was a good student. He also was very attractive which helped.

You knew a lot about him from living together for as long as you did and you still didn’t know whether you wanted to be with him or be him.

“Wkgrbnorgnognwg?” A voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You asked turning your head to face Jeno, his brows up showing he had just asked you a question.

“I said do you want to sit down? The park is across the street” he repeated pointing to the benches lining the walking path across the street.

“Oh yeah! Do you want to grab coffee first?” You suggested.

“I’m not sure you need more caffeine in your system actually, it really can’t be healthy how much you consume” Jeno warned, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was also incredibly easy to read.

“It’s fine, I think I go through withdrawals now if I don’t consume a dangerous amount” you joked, Jeno not finding it amusing though.

“I’m seriously ok I promise, the caffeine is just a necessary evil in college,” you said again trying to reassure him you weren’t macro-dosing caffeine every day and ruining your health, and probably stomach lining.

“Coffee is fine, but you are getting decaf” Jeno laid down the law and then pulled you by the wrist into the coffee shop.

Jeno ordered for the both of you and got you a decaf vanilla latte and himself an iced americano, and he PAID! The sugar baby era commenced.

Getting your drinks and then walking to the park bench you both sat down and stared out into the park. It was the same old comfortable silence you were familiar with Jeno, you two were the type of people who could sit with each other in silence and be content.

“Not to be a dick, but why do you do that to yourself,” Jeno asked breaking the silence. From your peripheral, you could tell he was still looking forward. Confusion partially took over at the turn in conversation and you didn’t respond, unsure of what he wanted you to say

“You don’t take care of yourself I understand school is important believe me, but watching you push yourself to the extent you do it sucks to see”

Your confusion only got worse as Jeno began to voice his concerns about you, you didn’t even know he noticed things like that.

“And I wish you would let me help you, I live with you for fucks sake. Ask me for help” He finished by turning to face you, your face still staring straight ahead, afraid to turn to meet his gaze.

Part of you thought you had been handling things alright, and part of you knew he was right. You kept to yourself when you were struggling because putting in on others felt selfish. You barely left your room at this point, and you hadn’t done anything other than school for the past two weeks.

“It’s just something I need to deal with, I’m almost done with this project and I will get a break. I’m. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” You said not sure how to make things better.

Jeno sighed and rubbed his face turning his body so now he was facing you. “God I’m not asking for an apology, I’m saying this because I care about you. I care about you a concerning amount and I hate watching you go through this and I can’t help” He admitted

“Why do you care a ‘concerning amount’? I promise you I will be fine I don’t know what else I can tell you” your tone coming off defensive, now turning to face him. Your confusion now mixed in a twinge of frustration as to why Jeno was being so cryptic in his concerns.

“Y/n I care because I like you. It is hard not to worry about the person you like, especially when you live with them. I get this urge to fucking tell you to go to bed on time, take you into my room away from your screens tuck you in with me, and make sure you sleep” Jeno had now begun rambling, his voice laced with the tiniest hint of anxiety

“I want to bring you out of the apartment with me and go on walks and run errands where we hold hands and talk about life and I know I don’t have to worry about you not moving from the same spot for more than 4 hours, I want to start and end the day with you” He kept going.

With every confession he was making you felt the confusion melt into a weird guilt, guilty you had made him feel like he couldn’t do anything, guilty you had made him feel helpless. You also felt this blur of emotions you couldn’t decipher with the sudden burst of someone pouring out how they liked you.

You reached your hand out and wrapped it around his wrist effectively stopping his diatribe. His eyes immediately caught yours searching for some sort of answer, a reaction to what he had said. Fear, anticipation, and a secret third emotion swirl around in his irises.

“Then do that” your voice came out stronger than you had planned.

“Take care of me,” you asked

Jeno’s eyes widened and his features began to soften.

“I want to be that person for you too ” you finally admitted, your eyes breaking the staring contest you had been holding for the past couple of minutes.

A couple of moments passed and neither of you moved. Hearing movement across from you, and then feeling arms grabbing you, Jeno pulled you into his chest and hugged you, his cheek pressing against your forehead and arms fully wrapped around you.

“Ok” you heard from above you, and then a soft kiss was placed on your forehead.

“Let’s go home”

Waking up you blinked away the sleep and felt the sun coming into the room from the windows. Sitting up and pushing aside the blankets, you grabbed a sweatshirt from the dresser as you got up and pulled it on leaving the room.

Jeno’s shirtless back faced you in the kitchen as he stood in front of the stove cooking something.

Coming up beside him and rubbing your hand up his back feeling the notches in his spine.

“Good morning,” you said resting your head against his shoulder.

“Good morning sweetheart” Jeno turned grasped your check and pulled you into a soft kiss his thumb caressing the top of your cheek. He tasted like toothpaste and his lips were covered in a thin layer of chapstick. You knew you probably tasted like morning breath and had dry lips but Jeno didn’t mind.

Pulling away he stared at your face with a smile. And patted your butt covered with his sweatshirt.

“I made you coffee” Jeno Pointed to the pink mug sitting on the counter with a banana sitting next to it. “Decaf because I know you don’t have any classes today,” he said turning the burner off.

“Thank you,” you said kissing his shoulder blade with the warm coffee cup now in your hands.

You both sat in a comfortable silence as you ate breakfast beside each other at the counter, Jeno’s hand periodically finding itself resting atop your thigh. You valued the moments of comfortable silence especially when they were spent with him.

You were now a healthy plant, your leaves were strong and you were regularly taken care of, you knew what you needed to grow, and you had the help of a very cute gardener (boyfriend) who made sure you got enough sun (literal sun), water (literal water), and care (love and good sex).

i actually struggled to write this one because of how bootycheek this last week and a half has been for me. so it lowkey reflected in my writing. lemme get to spring break and I promise i will be more positive

157 notes · View notes

neocentral · 9 months

Text

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: jeno x reader, implied bullying but it's not detailed

masterlist

Sweet words and gentle touches are what you remember of that night. The slow thrusting of Jeno’s cock and nibbles of his teeth over the sensitive parts of your body. You felt special, the intentional and soft, yet eager treatment resembled what you thought was yearning. He seemed to savor everything your body was willing to give, kissing, licking, sucking, grasping, pulling, pinching, every part of you he could. But you never dared speak of that night outside of the four walls of your bedroom after the first time you dared open your mouth. Jeno had humiliated you, laughing in your face and spewing demeaning words in front of his friends. He didn’t spare you a glance as he pushed past you, shoving your shoulder.

Though, you were never more confused than when Jeno slipped through your window that same night. His behavior was just as it was the first time, like he was worshiping everything about you, only this time there was apologies and promises on his tongue. It won’t happen again, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. They just wouldn’t understand. I promise you’ll never cry because of me again.

You were stupid enough to believe him every time, giving in as his fingers threaded through your hair in any way possible, pulling you into loving kisses and wandering touches. Jeno loved to slide his head between your thighs, pleasuring you until you squirmed beneath him. He spoke sweet words and mumbled about his regret into your flesh after yet another cruel encounter, refusing to release you until you accepted his apologies. His kisses light as he let you come down from your high before latching himself onto you once more. But you were always left disappointed when he would slide out of your window.

339 notes · View notes

rrxnjun · 11 months

Text

portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst. warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob word count: 5.8k playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!

turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.

It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.

Because he’s not.

He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger.

And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun’s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.

If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.

Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.

“What the fuck are you doing right n–”

Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.

That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.

The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.

And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..

“Dude, what is–”

“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.

It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.

Because he’s not.

He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.

It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.

That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.

“Renjun!”

“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.

“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.

“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around.

“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else.

It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.

“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.

“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.

“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”

You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.

“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.

“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.

“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.

“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…

“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation.

“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you.

“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”

And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?”

Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”

“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.

The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.

“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step.

Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.

When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand.

“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.

“Have you done this before?”

“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action.

Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk.

“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in.

“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.

Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.

“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so.

“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.

“What do you–”

His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.

He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”

“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.

“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.

You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.

His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.

And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.

His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.

Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you.

“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.

“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.

“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?

His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.

Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.

“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.

“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”

“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.

“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”

“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.

“What are you–”

“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.

“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.

“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”

You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

“You drew all of these?”

“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.

“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.

“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”

Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft.

It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.

“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.

“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.

“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”

#nct #nct dream #renjun #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun smut #renjun scenario #renjun fic #renjun drabble #nct dream scenario #nct dream reaction #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagine #renjun imagine

898 notes · View notes